My life measured in trees
The first childhood tree was a big old plum tree in the front yard of my home. It had grown too large for the yard, and the fruit never seemed to get ripe enough, but I still loved the spring flowers and the tangy hard fruit. Trees mean more when you have a relationship with them.
Then, there were the spectacular Madrones that grew on Orcas Island. We took some wonderful photos of our daughter, Keli, against the blazing orange puzzle bark when she was 3 yrs old, forever capturing their beauty for proud parents.
I am spoiled, admittedly, by living on a beautiful island and I have and had several trees that I know and watch through the years. There was a Monkey Puzzle tree in town, situated next to a bakery that was called The Monkey Puzzle. It was a spikey living fossil, but it met its demise during a winter snap. There was also a madrone tree with a swing that dumped you into the water at Lisabuela beach, but that also bit the dust.
At my home, I am wild about the birch trees that my husband Dave occasionally frets about the possibility of falling in a winter storm. There is also the Impressionistic Golden Chain, that blings out in spring and is magical against a Spring blue sky.
Our yard is framed by a couple of grandparent apple trees, garnished with moss and full of gnarly branches. They are easy climbers and lots of visiting children have spent some time in their branches and crotches.
The photo for this essay is a splendid Big Leaf Maple, one that is tucked near a gorgeous marine park that I often hike in with my faithful companions, Stella and Dave.
To be able to have trees as long time friends and life markers is a joy and quiet gift. Sap, strength, presence, and outward reaching.
