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Alive & KickingThe Wonder of Trees |
“I think that I will never see
a poem as lovely as a tree
A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
against the earth’s sweet flowing breast…
But poems are made by fools like me
But only God can make a tree.”
– Joyce Kilmer
What has nature provided to man that is more useful than trees or, perhaps more generally, plants? They build our soil, capture and store our energy, become the backbone of our homes, point upward to lift our spirits and can be made into countless numbers of creative useful products.
How well I remember my mother’s wooden spoon, justly applied to my seat of learning.
With a group of my students, we visited our chemistry teacher’s apple and nectarine orchard. She had many acres of carefully managed trees.
Pausing under an apple tree, one of the students asked her if she had any single tree she regarded as her favorite. Her reply was, “Yes, the tree we’re under right now.”
In showing us her ranch, she had led us to her favorite apple tree. I wonder if you have had a favorite tree? I know I’ve had several.
Along the forested ridge behind my childhood home stood a large Douglas fir. Its base was several hundred feet above our back porch, and its trunk was about three feet in diameter. It towered 200 feet above the top of the ridge.
For adventure and bragging rights with my young neighborhood friends, three of us made plans to climb that tree. The lowest limb was 20 feet above the ground.
Close by within six or eight feet grew a much smaller tree with lower limbs, making it more climbable. We threw a weighted rope over the large tree’s lowest limb, tying one end securely around the giant tree. Then we climbed the smaller tree, drawing the dangling rope as close as we could.
We tied a loop into which I placed one foot. After long contemplation, I swung across the gap, crashing into the big fir—only to find myself unable to touch the large limb three feet above my head. It was then I freed my foot and slid down the rope to the ground.
That was enough for the day.
Somehow the next morning, courage grew for another attempt.
Finding our rope as we had left it, we pulled the rope back down and tied several double knots above the loop. These were to serve as nonslip hand and foot holds to help us climb the three feet to the safety of that fir limb above our heads.
All went as planned.
The next series of limbs on that monstrous tree were dead, but seemed strong enough if we kept close to the trunk, until we reached limbs with green needles that would assure safe climbing.
Here I waited for my friend, Duck, to follow me from the ground. Our other friend, the youngest among us three, went home afraid—no, maybe smarter than we!
Up we went, the rest being easy. What a view!
Carefully, we continued climbing until the tree was four inches in diameter. We could see for miles, from our vantage point high above that high ridge.
Finally, we started our descent, but not before I tied my red farmer’s handkerchief to a short branch. We carefully worked our way to the ground.
We tumbled home euphoric with our success in having survived to live another day.
It was so pleasing to see that splash of red up there some 400 feet above the house.
I showed that red blotch against the sky to my dad that evening as soon as he stepped from the car.
He looked up above the ridge and said quietly, “Did you put that flag up there?”
“Yes, I did…” I said.
“You be careful.”
Somehow, that’s my favorite tree.