I remember as a little child, sitting on a tree swing leaning back looking up into the tree and seeing the sun glinting through the leaves. It was a beautiful sight, the light greens, the dark greens, the golden sunshine pouring through. A lovely pattern.  I could close my eyes and still see the light.

I think I fell in love with trees then.   They were strong, solid, safe.   I would climb trees and sit among a sturdy crook and read books from the library.

There was one especially good climbing tree on the grounds of our elementary school. It was so large around the base that several men would have been required to give it a proper hug.   The wide branches though were low enough that a skinny girl could easily climb up without assistance.   This was my favorite tree.   I told it all my secrets, my dreams, my agonies.

I would hide among the leaves like a nut hatch.  Scampering higher and lower along the trunk. I enjoyed the cool shade when it was to hot to be on the ground.

In the fall,  I love the smell of damp fallen leaves, wet, earthy, warm and cool at the same time.   I love the crunch as you shuffle through them on a hike in the late autumn,  when the air has a bite of cold.  I love that they will protect our garden through the winter and provide hiding places for the small creatures.

It is interesting how an old neighborhood is defined by its trees.   People will passionately protect their old trees.   I recently found a tree in a neighborhood built in the early 1900s.  There was an awesome tree growing in the space between the sidewalk and street.   The roots had grown up forming a base that looked like an upside down crown.   When the sidewalk was replaced,  it had been cut back to go around this lovely tree.

I will always love trees and a lovely walk in the shade whether it be in a vintage neighborhood or a verdant forest. Any season, any temperature,  to be among the trees is to be among friends.