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 4 or 5 years old. My dad dug them up at a nursery when they were maybe two and half feet tall. The nursery needed to thin them out, and dad got a deal at $5 a tree. He planted them on both sides of the house for privacy, but the line of marching pines down the west side of the property was an added wind block. The ground is so much softer underneath their branches with the padding of pine needles. This past summer we got to watch different kinds of mushrooms quickly make their homes there.
I love that Wesley and Simon can enjoy the same trees that I did while growing up. I know that's probably not the case with everyone but we all have a chance to meet new trees. Every tree has a story if we let it and it can carry years and years of memories with it. Do you have a favorite tree? What's your story?
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