Me and my Trees
I love my trees. Before you start calling me some sort of tree-hugger (I will resent that greatly), let me explain. My trees are a little like people. I have an old weeping willow in the north yard that always pretends it’s crying because it’s sad, but they’re only fake tears and if you’re careful, you can get it to giggle at its own foolishness.
The mother tree and father tree reside in the south yard. They’re the only ones who have actual people names, or at least they’re the only ones who’ve told me theirs. I can’t give the names away because trees are very confidential, and if you’re going to be friends with them you have to be the same way.
There are three other trees in the south end. One is a stately, sophisticated ponderosa. She’s pretty much the ruler of the whole yard, but to be honest, we’re not very close. I climbed her once and she threw me out, after scratching me excessively. There’s also an old sailor tree, out in the middle of the south end. He’s been all over the yard, and he’s old and tanned and wrinkly.
And the tales he could tell you! Once he saw a tree blown down by the wind, but the tree didn’t want help, he just wanted to be an example to other trees to never let your roots grow shallow (shallow roots were considered very fashionable back in his day). Another time his ship got caught in a storm, and flower petals and dirt clods rained down onto the deck. To this day, he is convinced that it was an omen, but nothing has ever come of it. But he’s friendly and jolly in a seaman sort of way.
The last tree in the south end is my tree. It leans to one side and it’s very sympathetic. It doesn’t tell stories; it just listens to mine. It’s old and comfortable and there’s a very comfortable spot to sit where you can see the world, or at least my corner of it. It’s neither a he nor a she, but an it, because it’s always changing itself. The only thing that doesn’t change is its friendliness.
The only trees in the east part of the yard are ghosts. I can hear them whisper past me sometimes, with stories and giggles. Tree ghosts are much nicer than most human ghosts.
One of the trees in the west end is neutral. It isn’t here, nor there, not angry or happy or sad. In fact, it’s rather boring. But then again, so are some humans, so I can’t blame the trees, because there are definitely fewer boring trees than humans.
Another of the west trees is an old gossip, but very friendly. She’s right next to me, and she says I can tell you that her tree name is Westrella. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but it’s what she wants you to know and therefore, it is what I tell you. Westrella is in bloom now, but she doesn’t bloom as much as she used to.
The two border trees are right in betwixt the south and west ends, and they’re kind of like guards, but they are so friendly and mischievous that no one ever thinks of them as guards. They’re always getting distracted, but nobody has the heart to fire them, so they remain border trees.
The last-but-not-least tree (I must say that so as not to hurt her feelings) is all in bloom now, and very pretty she is. The two border trees are both in love with her (she is one of their greatest distractions) but no one can blame them. She is sweet and funny and delightfully wild. She always dresses in pink. I tell her to dress in red, as that is more eye-catching, but she doesn’t listen and persists in wearing pink.
Anyway, I’m to finish this so I have a little more time to visit with all of my trees. They can get a little fussy if they’re ignored for too long.
This isn't really true, of course. Or is it?