There was one branch of the cherry tree that was the perfect height for me to grab. From there I could swing my legs up and hoist myself into the tree. It took a few years, but when I got the courage I remember the first time that I climbed high enough I could actually see the 7-Eleven on State Street. Not only was it a great climbing tree, but it gave us great cherries.
Unfortunately the tree has died and no longer bears the sweet fruit that we grew up enjoying. Fate would have it that the man living in the house is a good friend of mine that I know from my former place of employment. On Tuesday I was there helping him cut the tree down.
Cutting down such a large tree has been a difficult task, especially since the tree is fighting back. My own blood now stains the tree after it kicked the chainsaw I was using back at me and cut my hand. Good memories.
2 comments:
Hard to see it go. What will happen to the wood? I think Dad could do something wonderful to help us keep a part of it.
What a great idea to make something out of the wood. I would love to have a little bit of it, even just a branch to frame or something. I got teary reading this post. Lot's of memories playing in that tree.
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