A Year of Blogging: May 16, 2011

May 16 was 'Love a Tree' Day. I don't consider myself a tree-hugger, but I do like trees. I'm actually quite fond of them. My favorite flowering tree is a Magnolia. There are many types of Magnolia trees. My favorites are the ones with mostly pink flowers. Here's a picture I took last year of a Magnolia tree nearby. We don't have Magnolia trees in NY. I always thought of Magnolias as being in the deep south- Mississippi and Louisiana. Yet, the trees are in Ohio, so I must have been wrong because I do not live in the South! The Magnolia trees are one of the treasures of spring. There is not much time from when the buds appear until when the flowers are in full bloom, like in the photo. Once the flowers come on, they are only here for a couple of days. If you have a spring in which Mother Nature is unkind- such as a lot of wind or rain, the beauty disappears even quicker. This year the trees started to bud, and then it turned colder, and the trees seemed to be stunted. There are a few areas in the city where I live that the streets are lined with Magnolias. The trees are big, taller than the two story houses, and take up much of the front yard. It is beautiful to drive down these streets when they trees are in full bloom- it just takes your breath away. Not surprisingly, one of these streets is named Magnolia Street. As pretty as the Magnolia trees are, my absolute favorite tree is a Sugar Maple. They are tall, strong, and can last a long time. Sugar Maples are the trees of my childhood, they are the trees that make me long for NY. Growing up, there were two very tall maple trees on one side of our house. The tops of the trees stretched above the roof of our house. Grandpa said he knew the trees were older than he was, and he wouldn't be surprised if they were as old as the town. The trees stood, one on each corner of the house. Between the maple trees were two pine trees which were large in their own right. The result left this side of the house covered in shade all summer long, from morning to night. It was a delicious cool retreat from the scorch of summer. The maple trees served as bases when we played baseball, the safe spot when we played tag, the starting point for countless hide and seek games. We sat against the massive trunks talking to our friends. We set up tables and spread out huge feasts under the shady canopy. The breezes from the branches cooled the house in the summer. When we outgrew a swing set but still enjoyed swinging, dad fixed a wood and rope swing from the lowest branch of one of the trees. Sometimes I would sit under the trees and wish they could talk. The history they could tell us- how the town had changed through the years, and the stories of the children who had played under and around the tree, just as we did. They were constant, solid, and beautiful. One of the trees had to be cut down about 15 years ago. My parents know it is only a matter of time for the remaining maple. The house won't look the same without those two guardians. There's a part of me that hopes Mom and Dad will have the house sold before we see that last tree fall.