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Monday, January 22, 2007

The Locust Tree (Front Door continued)


There isn't much left of the old locust tree.

Once there was a tire swing that hung from the lower branches.

In the spring the blossoms would perfume the air and scatter like a wedding quilt over our front lawn. Our youngest daughter would wheeze and search for her inhaler.

The squirrels and birds made their homes high in its branches.

The afternoon shade fell across my kitchen window and the sunlight would filter lightly through, painting designs on the cupboards and kitchen table.

As summer was fulfilled and the sun moved to the north, the green mass would shade our cars and garage from the afternoon grilling. The breeze playing in the branches above brought to mind the sounds of pages turning and muffled giggles in the children's library.

Its leaves came down with the first fall rain and left images on the sidewalk and leaf dunes against the cedar fence that runs from our house to next door.

Winter found it a stalwart foe silhouetted by star light during the longest nights. Snow hid in the crook of the boughs and dropped on unsuspecting open collars.

One day the tree doctor diagnosed a terminal insect infestation and said it was too late for recovery.

I cried across the street.

Something about that old tree must be dear to our neighbor, Bill. The tree surgeon cut and cut. When he left, however, there stood the trunk of our old locust friend.

Every so often Bill tells me that he needs to get the rest of that old tree down.

I always respond that I don't mind watching it from my front door.

20 comments:

The very nice man said...

Maybe you need to plant a new tree??

swampwitch said...

So glad I came here first. The serene skies, the soothing-beautiful words so gracefully strung together, was a wonderful way to start my Pajamala Day.
Maybe your neighbor could get one of those chain-saw artists to come carve something from what's left of the trunk. It's a shame to just cut it down when it has provided you with a wonderful post that you shared with us.
Would you believe me WV is:
pjpmlaz? I can't believe it !

Jeanette said...

Hi Pamela
I haven seen or heard about a locast tree since i was a young girl lol We used raid the tree as the fruit ripened the only trouble with the friut there was more seed than fruit,

BarnGoddess said...

beautiful story. I agree w/ swampy-carve the trunk into something like a totem....

my Father has an old apple tree (it was ancient when I was a kid and Im 37 yo!)he refuses to get rid of it.

DesLily said...

it's sad when an old tree has to be cut down after surviving so much for so long. I love trees so it's hard to see that happen.

East of Oregon said...

oh I wouldn't want that tree taken down either - beautiful photo.

you have a great blog! I gave you a shout out on my blog yesterday - take care and have a great rest of the weekened:)

mark said...

Wonderful story about the tree. My grandpa carved a 7' tall Viking out of a Willow tree stump at the lake cabin - something he always wanted to do. Another alternative is to do something like this. (Vermillion, SD)

Claudia said...

What a beautiful shot. The story reminds me of the giving tree.

Heather said...

Sometimes you can't say goodbye. I'm like that with my teddy bear. ;)

Matt said...

Pam, this is the funniest thing you've ever written. You really had me going there for a minute w/ the crying about the tree bit. Too much.

local girl said...

I wouldn't want to get rid of it, either. It holds too many wonderful memories!

Mert said...

Pajamela, that was a beautiful post... I cold picture every word. You are quite the artist in more ways than one. :O)

Willowtree said...

Hey I've been ripped off! Your title says its more of the front doors posts, but you tricked me into reading one of your artsy fartsy literary posts.

And what's Mark's grandpa doing messing with my stump?

Karmyn said...

That tree was evil....it cut the rope on the rope swing when I was swinging, causing me to fall and bruise my butt.

Melissa said...

I thought that was lovely. It made me remember a tree and a memory of my son when he was three and still thought I was his best friend. They grow up much too quickly.

Susie said...

Beautiful photo and a lovely post. the purple and pink in the sky is gorgeous!
:)

Masago said...

...the relentless march of time.

Stephanie said...

Ah, phooey on Willowtree's "artsy fartsy" comment! As I've said before, you are a poet, and you should write a book!!

Oh, and thanks for helping me out my first day as a blogging Mama!!

Robin said...

Beautiful prose + beautiful picture = beautiful post.

I do math well;).

Amanda said...

I braved the wheezing and played on that damn swing anyway. Loved that ol' swing. Pretty picture mom!