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Yesterday was a  really cold with the wind chill. I was thankful Wes pulled me outside. I mostly hugged close to the garage or a tree to stay out of the wind. While I was standing back against the garage, I couldn't help but to take in the massive white pine trees at my mom and dad’s house. My fondest memory of them while growing up was sled riding right next to them all the way down the hill. One time in particular, my two older cousins and I went down on one sled (or maybe it was a tube) together. As we flew close to one of the pines they both bailed on either side and left me in the middle. I got to know that tree pretty good that day, but it didn't stop my love for the trees.  I don't remember their branches being so big and so widespread when I was younger.  They always stole the show in the winter and still do. They are quite glorious to look at with their large sweeping branches and soaring height.  The trees are around 30 years old now.  They were planted when I was

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