Trees

Two mornings ago, after the kids were off on their merry way to school, I heard this sound.  "Where on earth is that coming from?"  It sounded like a buzzing, but with intensity.  Ah, then I heard the wood crack.  My bedroom windows face northwest, and I thought for sure that this intense buzzing, whirling, cracking sound with very high motors, men yelling "STOP!", and other obscenities was a few doors away.  I was about to take my shower.  I walked into the bathroom and cracked the window.  No, the sound was not coming from two doors away, it was NEXT door, practically in my backyard! 



There are two trees in this yard.  One on either side of the yard, bordering on one neighbor's fence, and the other, bordering mine.  I'm a cross between a semi-morning person and an semi-evening person (can't really decide, so that's where we are staying for now.), so this sound wasn't exactly welcome to one who fights headaches on a weekly basis.  I thought, maybe they are taking down both trees.  I would miss the shade of this maple in the yard, but on the other hand, wouldn't miss the fall clean up.  OK.  So I showered. 

The buzzing, whirling, continued.  Looks like only one tree was coming down on this day. 
But then it got me thinking about trees. 

My Dad and I had a brief exchange in an email this last week about what tree we would be.  I've always identified with the Weeping Willow, and not because I cry all the time, either.  I don't. (Just to be clear.)  It's base is strong.  It's leaves sway freely.  It looks like it could hug the earth and those sitting under it.  I have a strong base and a strong foundation in my beliefs,and the way I live my life.  So that's how I interpret that tree.  It might not have the changing colors in the fall, but it falls away quietly and unassuming in order to wait for winter's arrival. 

But, I digress.

I was thinking about the tree in our neighbor's yard when I lived in Pennsylvania.  My best friend Nancy lived directly next door.  That was THE best friendship a little girl could have.  We played until all hours in our rec room/basement, playing house and pretended we were our mother's doing dishes and talking.  (Actually our mother's DID do dishes and would talk across the lawn;  that's how close the houses were.)  We were Nadia Comenici and Cathy Ribgy on the picnic tables on the balance beams.  We put our stuffed animals up our shirts and pretended we were pregnant women and carried our mother's handbags in the backyard.  Sometimes the dog, Janie, would follow, but Janie mainly liked to stay near the big maple tree in front of the house.  It was on The Quinter's property, but it provided shade for all the teenagers on summer days playing games outside or a place to hide in the evening when they were playing games that Nancy and I were too young to play.  It was also their dog, Janie, who felt that relief, panting while watching us all play in the neighborhood.

On really special days, Mrs. Quinter would invite me over for lunch.  Oooh, lunch at someone else's house!  I loved their house.  AND the kitchen was carpeted.  Back then, I thought that to be very fancy.  Mrs. Quinter would make tomato soup.  Always.  One day, I remember, I asked her, why it tasted so different than what we had at our house.  "Oh, I add a stick of butter to it.", she would say.  What did I know!  I just said, "Mmm."  (Most of you are cringing)  There was more butter.  If it was saltines with the soup, then you put butter on the saltines.  If it was a grilled cheese, then it came greasy as could be before dunking it into the soup.  So Nancy and I would have our giggles over soup and then be sent back out to play. Today I would head straight for the couch.

I visit that tree whenever I am down in Pennsylvania visiting my Dad.  It's still there.  The Quinter's are not.  They have moved to another area of town.  I've been trying to track down Nancy and have given my Dad the task of sleuthing.  Oh, to reconnect with that childhood friend would be fabulous.  Kind of like going home.  I wonder if that tree had as much meaning to her as it did me;  well, maybe not so much meaning as much as sweet memories.  Our little dead end street was filled with memories.

Even at night, when Nancy and I would be summoned to our own homes for bed, like the movie, "Big", we would talk across the lawn to each other until someone heard us and say, "Girls?  It's time for bed."  It was the best feeling ever.  Playing outside, exhausting yourself, having a bath, and talking with Nancy while the breezes caught our windows and made the curtains dance. 

So maybe this isn't as much about food today as it is about friendship.  And trees. 
What tree do you identify with and why?

Smiles. Memories.  Balance beams, and tomato soup.

As always...enjoy,
Kathy