Growing up in the Evergreen State, I was used to trees in every corner of space available. Even single-family home on a quarter acre might still be home to multiple 50' Douglas firs.
Imagine coming home one day and thinking something horrible had happened to your neighborhood. It looked like a war zone.
The cornerstone of every successful childhood is a really amazing tree. For me, growing up in Naperville, it was the weeping willow across the yards behind my house.
Sometimes you might see me in a tree. What am I doing in a tree? I might be climbing. When you see me climbing, you might see me holding onto branches.
When I was a kid, I lived on an 80-acre abandoned orchard in Michigan with mature oak woods and pine groves. The white pine trees were probably 30 years old.
“Christy, Christy, where are you?” my mother called, in vain. I was only about a dozen feet away from her, but as it was 12 feet straight up, the odds of her finding me were slim.
