I often wish my Tulip tree could talk. Oh the tales it could tell! It could tell nature stories of squirrels, deer, and woodpeckers. It could tell happy stories of laughing, shouting, climbing children. It could tell sad stories of tear-filled eyes and bloodied lips. It could tell of cats and dogs, slugs and scolding jays. Each story would be more wonderful than the last.
But let me first tell you about this wonderful tree. Whether you call it a Tulip tree or a Magnolia makes no difference. Whatever you call it doesn't change the fact that its first branches are just inches off the ground. These aren't puny, little, bendy branches. They are big, strong, mighty limbs that branch out into smaller limbs reaching ever skyward, limbs that bud out each spring. The resulting saucer-sized, rosy-pink blossoms are beautiful to behold. Then come the huge leaves that provide shade for my front porch all summer long. It is truly a wonderful, beautiful tree. I love it. I call her Maggie, as in Magnolia.
Anyway, if Maggie could talk, these are some of the stories she would love to tell you.She would be thrilled from the depths of her roots to the tip of her branches to tell you about a very special visitor, a little girl who couldn't walk. This delightful girl's wise parents let her sit on the ground at Maggie's base. From there the child gazed longingly at the uppermost branches, then slowly pulled herself onto the first available limb. There she sat, just inches off the ground, beaming from ear to ear. I don't think Maggie could see the huge smile on the child's face, but I know she could hear the excitement as the young one proclaimed, "This is the best day in my life. I climbed a tree!" I know Maggie would love to share that story.
Then there was the oldest grandson who often came to visit. He could climb into Maggie's arms like all the other cousins did. He, too, loved to play and swing and jump on her branches. But one day was very special for Maggie. This young lad, a lover of books, changed the junction of branches and trunk into a comfortable chair.This was not a ground-level chair. It was a greatly elevated throne. Then for a very long time he and Maggie just sat in solitude and silence, he, enthralled as he lived out the book's tale, she, lovingly providing shade on a sunny day for this grandson-child of mine. It was a moment in time that Maggie will always remember.
Then there was the sit-in, the protest, the demonstration by the grand-kids. You see, Maggie needed some pruning since some of her highest branches were resting on the roof of the garage and the house. Her branches also needed thinning to improve air circulation and light distribution. I'm sure Maggie understood what had to be done.
But then there was that one big limb, the one the kids loved to hang from before dropping to the ground, the one they all loved to sit on, side by side, and discuss the day's events, the one we adults were always bumping our heads on then declaring, "That limb has to go before it kills someone!" You know how adults talk.
So there they were, the macho guys with small chain saws and glasses of iced tea, standing on the porch discussing how to amputate the killer limb. Finally the decision was reached, and the men marched off to tackle the gruesome project. They were not prepared for what confronted them. There on that limb sat the children with arms crossed and defiant looks on their faces. "You can't cut off our favorite limb!" they exclaimed. "We will sit here all night!"
I know Maggie would love to share that story because she still laughs and rustles her leaves whenever someone bumps their head on her limb and declares, "That limb has to go before it kills someone!" I know she truly loves those children who loved her enough to stage a sit-in on her behalf.
Another story that makes Maggie laugh is about the dachshund that used to live at the house. He loved to chase the cat that also live there. He was an inside dog and she was an outside cat. Whenever the opportunity arose, that short little dog would take off after the speedy cat who always shot up Maggie's trunk, tickling her in the process. Kitty, from her perch on the roof, would look down at the mutt and grin. I know that is what she was doing.
That brown pup, now worked into a frenzy, always attempted to climb up Maggie's branches too. He had no trouble getting onto the first one, the one just inches off the ground, but always toppled off as he attempted to reach the next level. All who watched this comedy routine chuckled silently, but I know the sound of Maggie's rustling leaves was her way of joining in with our glee.
I have know Maggie for only fourteen years now. I know many of her stories during that time, but I have no idea of the years before I got here. I don't know about the other kids who played in her branches, the squirrels who ran up her trunk, the woodpeckers who drilled holes looking for bugs. I know none of those stories, but wish I did. Maybe someday she will tell them to me. In the meantime, I will enjoy her God-given beauty while watching new stories unfold.
Enjoy God's blessings this day.
Jan
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