I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only god can make a tree.
Joyce Kilmer
The delicate blossoms of apple trees are amazing, the heady scent attracts not only bees but also a young girl seeking a place to hide away to escape in a book. As a child and teenager, I spent many hours perched in the branches of our apple tree and tree house, escaping from my chores, brother’s teasing, Mom’s calling, and the world, in general, losing myself in the pages of a book.
Of course, the apple tree and climbing up in the tree house were not the only trees I climbed. There were three tall trees along the edge of the property where I grew up. The center tree was home to a rope swing, hung off a high branch. While one could get some swinging in just pushing off the ground, the best experience was to climb into the adjoining tree, walk out onto the branch, then have someone toss the swing up to you.
The key to a successful swinging experience, to soar back-and-forth above the ground, was all in the timing. To get to where you could actually sit on the swing (a large, smooth stick tied onto the end of the rope), you had to grasp the rope tightly, and then jump all the while lifting your legs and wrapping them around the stick, straddling it. But what a glorious thing to swing, the wind rushing by and the earth, cloud-studded sky, and branches slanting like a crazy green, blue, white, and brown kaleidoscope. That swing was one of my favorite places to be.
At some point, one of us came up with the idea of doing doubles — meaning one person would launch themselves on the swing, while a second waited on the branch; when the first person arced back toward the branch, the second person would jump, and if all went well, land so the two passengers were sitting criss-cross, on the swing. The rush of adrenaline would surge through as you made the leap, hoping you timed it right to go soaring into the sky, slowly slowing down until you could put feet on the ground.
Success every time — until I missed the rope — and essentially, jumped out of the tree from about 10 feet up. It was a spectacular belly flop, straight to the ground. I hit, the wind knocked from me, head and teeth jarred from the abrupt stop. On the ground, I gasped for breath, everything hurting until eventually air filled my lungs, and I realized I was not dead. Fortunately, nothing was broken.
One would think this would have cured me of climbing trees, but it didn’t. I loved the experience of conquering a tree; smooth versus rough bark, testing the strength of branches and climbing ever higher. The whiff of raw pine, the feel of wood beneath me, surrounding me, the slap of a leafy branch, springing back to catch me in the face — it was all a part of the experience.
Even when I was grown with children of my own, I climbed trees, with and without them, the apricot tree outside my kitchen window my ladder to the roof of the house where I placed trays of fruit leather to dry (or escaped to read, so the kids couldn’t find me) — until I didn’t.
Because I was no longer agile enough. Because I became fearful that my weight would break the branches. Because I no longer had the upper body strength climbing trees requires. Because I was afraid I would fall and break something. Because I thought it would be ridiculous for a woman of my age to be climbing a tree. But, I was wrong.
When I began what I think of as my journey back to me, one of my goals was to lose enough weight and regain enough leg strenth, upper body strength, and toning to be able to climb trees again — and after a year-and-a-half of dedicated work, I have done that. A few days ago, I climbed a tree. It was not without its challenges, and I did encounter a setback, but ultimately, I succeeded and found myself in the leafy branches of a tree, and it was as exhilarating and wonderful as I remember. Here’s to more tree-climbing adventures!
KyneWynn's Chronicles 