I think every boy has a special tree in his life. I can remember several in my life. When we lived across the street from Maggie Weston, there was an old cottonwood tree between our house and Parkers' to the south. When we lived on third street, there was a willow tree between our house and the Haslett's, A cottonwood tree in the front yard with a swing on it, and a hollow apple tree that has special meaning to Donnie. At Elma's there was a tree house on the south side of the property. When Robert was a boy, there were a couple of trees in the yard. In one was his tree house, and in another was a squirrel that was really interesting. In front of Grandma and Grandpa Dunn's house, there was an elm. When Betty and I lived in Longmont, we had a Russian Olive that we replaced with a box elder.
Donnie and Jimmy Parker would climb high in the cottonwood between our homes. I was afraid to follow. I think that was probably one of the things that appealed to them.
The willow between our house and Haslett's had a tree house in it. It had been there for so long that it wasn't clear whether it was on our property on on the Haslett's. The barbed wire had grown into it and was buried beneath the bark.
The elm tree in front of Grandma Dunn's needed pruning. When the job was done, it was cut back radically. I was amazed that there soon was a ball of green growth at the top of the stump. Before long, it looked like a healthy tree again.
The hollow apple tree is where Donnie and his friends hid some Rocky Mountain Spring Water. It was the stump of that tree that give Donnie one of his nicknames when it was burned.
The cottonwood tree between our home and Sowards' to the north had a large, single roped swing. We would jump off of a 55 gallon drum onto the knot of that old swing. We spent many an hour going to and fro on it. I remember when one of my Kreps cousins got into big trouble because he lost a button swinging on that swing.
There was a treehouse in Elma's yard, but it was different. It was kept by girls. While we were up in the tree with them, their activities were not as alluring as matches and pocketknives.
There was a squirrel who built her nest each spring in the tree to the west of our home on Montrose. She would gather twigs until she had a huge ball shapped nest up in the tree. There, she would raise her little ones. As the season went on, and she had fulfilled her obligation as a mother, she would destroy that twig nest and she would chase her little ones away. I would swear that my mother did the same thing.
The Russian olive tree in our yard had a wonderful sweet smell when it bloomed. It was not a pretty tree, though. It was crooked and dropped little leaves into grass. Those leaves tracked into the house on wet shoes. Betty decided to have it taken out. My home teacher helped us with the job. He took a lunch break and left his ladder in the front yard. Betty and I looked out our living room window and there was a couple of mourning doves sitting on the ladder. They were looking longingly at where their olive tree had been.
We replaced that tree with a box elder tree. It grew straight and tall quite quickly. It had a characteristic, though that we found quite undesirable. It attracted box elder bugs, lots and lots of them.
In front of our current home, we have a miniature aspen grove. When we moved in, it looked neglected and appeared to be dying. I pruned it and have cared for it this summer. It looks healthy now and it has been enjoyable to watch it change.
Each tree I have written of has had a special place in my heart. Many of them are now gone from where they stood. They will grow forever in my boyish heart.
5 comments:
I loved our crab apple tree. I loved how it bloomed in the spring. I didn't like when it would produce the apples and children would use them as weapons or throw them at our house, or when the tree produced a lot of apples that would drop to the ground. It would make for mooshy mowing!
I should have included your pinafore story in this article. I had forgotten momenarily.
In Manassa there was a whole line of cottonwood trees that marked to boundary between the Vance and Sowards property line. In the back yard was also the big old pine tree. I remember the red and black ants that used needles from the tree to build their nest hill.
One of those old cottonwood trees had been hit several times by lightning. It had spiral scars around and up the trunk where the lightning blew a sting of bark from the tree in several places. KABOOM!! It was scary when it happened.
The old pine tree in the back yard was not for climbing. The pitch was not fun to have on your hands. The ants were also not so desirable. One day an ant climbed up my leg and latched onto my scrotum. I was very young at the time. My mother had to remove the ant because the pain zapped my strength and I was too busy crying to help myself.
Sometimes life's experiences paralize us just like that. The pain we feel sometimes prevents us from seeing the solutions to our dilemas or saps the strength required to act to resolve the dilema.
The treehouse across the street in Elma's tree was frequented by me.
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