There was a mulberry tree in my childhood where my brothers and I climbed, and perched and dreamed.
There was a fast growing Chinese elm at the center of my butterfly garden that my children climbed, and beneath those fine leafed branches they played while we grew together in the garden.
There was a willow tree by the river in our town. Generations of children played along its sturdy trunk over the gentle flow of sweet water. This summer a wild wind took it down. When you visit the park where the willow once stood, memories flow like the water in the river, poignant and sweet.
There are so many trees on this farm; some fresh and new, others brittle with age. The stately sycamore guards the house and a host of cedars greets and guides us on our woodland rambles.
How long has it been since you climbed a tree or sat beneath one lost in a book or a long slow daydream?
Where ever you are, whatever the weather I wish you the comfort and company of trees.