Monday, March 29, 2010


We name trees. No, not names like maple and oak and hickory. Names like The Robin Hood Tree. The King and Queen of the Forest. Elmer. Lord of the Great Hall.

I know that probably sounds crazy, but, at our house, it makes sense. It's so much easier to say, "Mom, we're hiking back to the Lord of the Great Hall" - than to say, "We'll be somewhere around the enormous oak in the grove at the top of the bluff above the back hay field."

Easier, and definitely more romantic. When we were clearing brush once, Granddaddy pointed out a gigantic beech towering over a broad grove of beech trees. "That tree was huge when I was a boy. I used to play back here when I was little, and imagine that an Indian boy my size once played under this very same tree." We all stood breathlessly admiring the Silver Giant - the woods seemed suddenly alive with ghosts and whispered voices. Life is an adventure when you live on a farm forested by the Silver Giant, the Narnia Trees, and the Wild Bee Tree.

If we had ears to understand the rustling of the leaves, do you think we would learn that the trees have names for us?


Anonymous said...

Did Claytus spike your custard again?
Just kidding. I can so relate. A tree by any other name would be....a different tree.

Camille said...

Hahaha! The story of Claytus and the pine tree would make a great blog post - but I'm reluctant to post swear words. Hmmm....

emily said...

I have never heard this story.

Might I suggest the judicious use of asterisks?


Anonymous said...

Any story pertaining to Claytus would be a delectable blog post. What a woman!