I'm going on 79 and climbing a tree is the last thing I can do, my daughter would have a cow but when I was a girl we had a Chinese Elm in our yard and at the very tippy top was a Y set of branches just the right size for my behind. I had three sisters who were all more outspoken than I was, I had asthma so I couldn't always keep up with them but I had my tree. When I got tired of them picking on me I went up the tree and stayed there till "I" was ready to join the world of family again. That tree saved me so many times. About a year ago I looked out my window at the neighbors tree, up in the tippy top was a young girl, our neighbor. She had a book in hand and ever so often I'd look to see if she was still there and she was. I wanted to say hello and tell her about my tree but thought better of it and left her to her privacy but realized I had a kindred spirit right next door...thank you for reminding me. Your tree is lovely.
Oh, Linda! Thank you for these two intertwining stories. I wonder sometimes if my kids and their compatriots have lost this ability to search out places like trees and such to claim as their own, being much happier to stay inside with their phones. It thrills me to know that your young neighbor has found her tree. And thank you for sharing your tree. It stimulated all kinds of memories for me, of the places I would go as a kid when the pressure of family was too much. I never had a specific tree, but I had spots of woods and creeks and trails that served a similar function and that I still love even now, even though they are hundreds of miles away from me and I probably haven't walked them in 40 years.
In answer to the question of a metaphor, one thing that came to mind right away was a willow tree - a weeping willow tree. It's still a tree... but it's branches are supple and softer. They sway in the wind and hang like tassels or cords, but the tree also has a very solid trunk, and is well rooted in itself. There is perhaps a cautionary tale that I also love about this tree, a story that my sweetie shared with me about wanting to jump into its embrace one day when he was small, and getting stuck in all the entwining branches, like a weaving or a web. His mother (who was later to become less of the heroine in his story) had to come and rescue him from the trees embrace. It almost feels, in the hearing of it, like the tree was trying to keep him, and didn't want to let him go. I'm not sure that fits the exact metaphor you're looking for, but it seemed a thing to share here. :-)
I'm so glad you did. Weeping willows used to be my favorite tree. They still are high up on the list. We have some enormous specimens here by Cayuga Lake. They're quite regal.
I'm going on 79 and climbing a tree is the last thing I can do, my daughter would have a cow but when I was a girl we had a Chinese Elm in our yard and at the very tippy top was a Y set of branches just the right size for my behind. I had three sisters who were all more outspoken than I was, I had asthma so I couldn't always keep up with them but I had my tree. When I got tired of them picking on me I went up the tree and stayed there till "I" was ready to join the world of family again. That tree saved me so many times. About a year ago I looked out my window at the neighbors tree, up in the tippy top was a young girl, our neighbor. She had a book in hand and ever so often I'd look to see if she was still there and she was. I wanted to say hello and tell her about my tree but thought better of it and left her to her privacy but realized I had a kindred spirit right next door...thank you for reminding me. Your tree is lovely.
Oh, Linda! Thank you for these two intertwining stories. I wonder sometimes if my kids and their compatriots have lost this ability to search out places like trees and such to claim as their own, being much happier to stay inside with their phones. It thrills me to know that your young neighbor has found her tree. And thank you for sharing your tree. It stimulated all kinds of memories for me, of the places I would go as a kid when the pressure of family was too much. I never had a specific tree, but I had spots of woods and creeks and trails that served a similar function and that I still love even now, even though they are hundreds of miles away from me and I probably haven't walked them in 40 years.
In answer to the question of a metaphor, one thing that came to mind right away was a willow tree - a weeping willow tree. It's still a tree... but it's branches are supple and softer. They sway in the wind and hang like tassels or cords, but the tree also has a very solid trunk, and is well rooted in itself. There is perhaps a cautionary tale that I also love about this tree, a story that my sweetie shared with me about wanting to jump into its embrace one day when he was small, and getting stuck in all the entwining branches, like a weaving or a web. His mother (who was later to become less of the heroine in his story) had to come and rescue him from the trees embrace. It almost feels, in the hearing of it, like the tree was trying to keep him, and didn't want to let him go. I'm not sure that fits the exact metaphor you're looking for, but it seemed a thing to share here. :-)
I'm so glad you did. Weeping willows used to be my favorite tree. They still are high up on the list. We have some enormous specimens here by Cayuga Lake. They're quite regal.