Trees, part I

Growing up, I loved climbing trees. It became a personal challenge to climb 
every tree in our yard. Some were easier than others; some became personal 
favorites. When we weren't climbing the trees, we were playing underneath 
them, making hats and doll clothing out of leaves pinned together with their 
stems. Or we'd make endless clover chains and define the "rooms" of a 
playhouse by stringing the chains around groups of trees. We even had names 
for our most popular trees.

The most infamous was "the broken arm tree". A white mulberry tree by the 
corner of the "little house", this tree had been struck by lightning. There 
was a stump and half a tree, leaning over the edge of a small patio, with a 
smooth branch placed just right for grabbing while standing on the stump. 
White mulberry trees have big fuzzy leaves that are mostly round (with a 
slight point). Instead of berries, they have these fuzzy cattail things. But 
their bark is very smooth, so they are easy to climb. 

We created a game where we'd stand on the stump, grab the branch and swing 
out, seeing how high we could swing (hoping we could touch a higher branch 
with our toes. My dad saw us playing this and was worried someone would get 
hurt, so he sawed off the branch. Unfortunately, he didn't get it flush with 
the trunk. The little piece sticking out was almost long enough for two 
little hands side by side. I was the first to try it with the new shorter 
branch. I pushed off really hard...and twisted right off the cut end of the 
branch--flying high, for sure. I landed in a heap and my left arm felt all 
funny. Turns out I had broken my ulna, so I started second grade with a cast 
on my left arm, and our trapeze tree acquired a new name. 

To make up for the loss of the "trapeze", dad ran a garden hose up the tree 
with the nozzle set on a wide spray, like a shower. This was our new game--to 
run under the sprinkler. Sometimes we'd climb up the tree and sit over the 
shower, pretending we were inside a raincloud.

We had another white mulberry that I named the merry-go-round tree, because 
its first level of branches were perfectly evenly spaced all around. But 
it was boring to climb, because once you were above that first level, 
everything was too skinny to go any higher. So after climbing it once, I 
pretty much ignored it (except when we needed big leaves to make something).

Our favorite tree to climb in the yard was the buttered toast tree. It was 
a tulip poplar planted right outside my bedroom window. It had really smooth 
bark (important when you have to "shinny" to reach the first branch) and 
nicely spaced limbs up a sturdy trunk. I could climb higher than the roof 
of our house and look down on my attic window. From the top branch you could 
rock and sway in the wind. It got its name from the way the leaves turned 
in the fall. First they'd turn a bright butter yellow, and then, before they 
fell, they'd turn brown and crispy around the edges. We decided they looked 
just like buttered toast, and so the tree got its name. I didn't have to 
shinny long--the first branch was about 4 feet off the ground. First I could 
reach it by jumping, and then on tiptoes, and finally I could grab it easily 
and swing up to the branch beside it. 

Outside the yard, our very best climbing tree was the ladder tree. It was 
a giant syccamore whose first branches were just inches off the ground. Even 
as a little child, I could step right onto the first branch. From there on, 
it truly was like a ladder. It had smooth white bark, with peeling patches 
of gray and brown that we fantasized had been used as paper by the Indians. 
The leaves were huge, but not as silky smooth as the buttered toast tree. But 
it had cool gumball seeds--about the size of a golfball on a long stem. They 
were fun to throw, and spray painted gold or silver made cool Christmas 
decorations. Eventually they softened and came apart in a floating fuzzy puff 
we decided must be like asbestos. It was near the very back edge of our 
property and in a hollow between two bluffs, so the view was limited even 
though the top was very high. It did, however, offer a spectacular view of 
the junkyard that bordered our back property line. The junkyard was full 
of old cars and even more old construction equipment--bulldozers and backhoes! 
But the scary looking dogs kept us from sneaking in to play on the very 
tempting occupants. High in the ladder tree, we'd pretend we were in an 
airplane on a bombing run over the junkyard. We agreed we'd strafe it first, 
to chase off the dogs. Other times I'd climb alone and pretend I was in the 
crow's nest of a ship and the tall grass waving in the field in front of 
the ladder tree was the sea. The far off house was another ship, and I'd 
wonder if it was friend or foe.

c. 2009, B. Riley