Here are some of my favorite photos of gifts from the Mother….
Here are some of my favorite photos of gifts from the Mother….
I spotted this great challenge this morning and thought I’d join in.
Picking a tree photo has proved impossible because I photograph and write about Trees I’ve known and loved all the time. (If you go to my site and look up Trees, you’ll see what I mean.)
I am so connected to many, many trees, maybe because growing up in the smallish ocean-side town of Pacific Beach (San Diego), in our front yard, we had the tallest tree in the entire town. That tree was a huge part of my life. I experienced it as a living being, a friend, and that has informed my experiences with trees ever since.
I wrote this story about it years ago.
Not just a Tree
By Kathie Arcide 10-07
For fifty years, there was a Star Pine tree in Pacific Beach that could be seen from almost everywhere. Rumor had it that this particular tree was, by far, the tallest in this San Diego beach community, and the surrounding area for that matter.
The true story about the origin of this tree is a well-guarded secret, but for a good cause; to prevent sibling rivalry.
Here is the part of the story that can be proven. It seems an unusually forward thinking young man moved to the West Coast from Coffeeville, Kansas in the late 1940’s, and wisely bought a piece of property close to the ocean.
He had it all planned; settle in to his new job as an aeronautical engineer at Convair, build his new house and get it all ready, and then, begin his search for the woman who would become his wife.
The only thing missing from the homestead he was creating was a large tree on which his future children could climb. (Well, that and a storm cellar, which, being from Kansas, he believed, was an absolute necessity. But that is another story.)
Here’s where the secrecy starts. This man eventually had three daughters. Each of these daughters has a different tale about the origin of the big old Star Pine tree that dominated the property, as well as the Pacific Beach skyline. I am the oldest of those daughters, so here is my version, told to me by my Daddy when I was very little.
The yarn goes like this. When my father met the woman who would become his “one and only”, she already had a two-year-old daughter; ME.
In order to welcome me into his life, we went shopping for a tree for the front yard of his newly built home. We had to look around a bit because he had many specific requirements for this tree.
1) It had to be a future climbing tree.
2) It had to be a pretty tree; none of those Monkey Tail trees that my Dad thought were inferior.
3) It had to have the potential for providing shade.
4) And most important, was that at the time it was planted, it had to be exactly the same height as his new little daughter, “so that the tree and I could grow together”.
So we found the Star Pine that occupied the front yard of this home in Pacific Beach for many years. Well, “occupied” is a relative term. It grew to become massive and regularly needed a “trim” to prevent its branches growing into the bedroom windows and overtaking the house completely.
This tree really saw some life, let me tell you. I am now in my fifties and some of my fondest (as well as harshest) memories are of sitting way up high in this old tree, for hours at a stretch; sometimes reading, sometimes privately watching the neighborhood, stretching from the West to the Pacific and to the South to San Diego Bay. Sometimes I’d climb the tree with a little friend to enjoy a picnic lunch, and sometimes I’d hide up there from my bothersome little sisters, or from my imperfect parents.
The Star Pine was where I would “run away”. My favorite thing, a guilty pleasure now I see, was that from high on my perch, I could hear everything my parents said when they would come out into the yard, worried and looking for me. I loved to eavesdrop on my Mommy and Daddy while they discussed how much they loved me and how very much they would miss me if I never came home again. (Now, of course, I’m sure my folks knew I was up there in that tree all along.)
And then there were those times when that old Star Pine tree was utterly a place of soul saving refuge.
As much work as raking up the shedding needles and branches? was, Dad loved that tree and so did we.
It was a landmark of sorts. One really couldn’t miss it as it could be seen from most angles throughout the town. It should have been left to live out its life in peace, just as our father did.
He is gone now, having lived a wonderful, fulfilling life in his cherished, self-built homestead. Pacific Beach flourished and filled in around him, but somehow retained its small beach town atmosphere.
When Dad passed on my sisters and I made the very tough decision to sell our childhood home. We idealistically tried to require the buyer to promise NOT to cut down this magnificent old tree. He agreed, but if you are ever in San Diego, don’t bother looking for 1361 Wilbur Ave. The TREE is no longer there. The man who bought the house professed termites and immediately had the tree removed. He also did other things to the house that, other than the address, make it no longer recognizable as our childhood home, our Father’s dream.
But some part of my Daddy is still there, his spirit and energy strong. And so are his three beloved little girls, frozen in familiar childhood poses, arguing over whose myth about the origin of the tree is really the truth.
FIRST, here is a music video to play, softly, in the background as you scroll down to read this. ALL the words are not quite right but the sentiment of the chorus is perfect.
I walk up and down my long, dead end street (the equivalent of about three city blocks) 2 or 3 times, every day, all year round. Not very far for an athlete but a good number of steps for me.
I love my neighborhood. And I love to take pictures of the things I see.
I have a favorite tree…
This tree is huge, old, lush and glorious. I love to stand under her when it’s pouring down rain. You can stay completely dry and the sound of those heavy drops smacking her leaves and then bouncing off is amazing!
My neighborhood is changing so much these days. One by one, the older homes are being flattened, in order to be replaced with huge and mostly beautiful new houses.
My son grew up (part time) in the “yellow house”, two doors away. They had a pool, and a kid exactly his age. For a time, when the neighborhood was full of young, single Mom’s, we would babysit each other’s kids and on Friday nights, we Mom’s would have a “progressive” relaxation evening. We’d go from one house to the next, to the next, for snacks, and wine. Among us, we had an outdoor Sauna, a hot tub, a pool and we’d finish at my house on my deck. I had the best view of the sunset.
Other great families have lived in the yellow house too over the years, but…..it has been the next one to bite the dust.
What a back ho and dozer can do to a home on purpose, in just 2 days, is exactly the same thing we see on the news, someone living in Tornado Alley, whose home gets flattened in minutes.
Yellow House…….. gone…
I get this, intellectually, but I have so much judgment about it…the waste, the destruction of usable space, and the loss of history. At least, this builder is big into recycling, re-purposing, and replanting. He (and the owners) saved as many bushes and plants as possible and offered them to the neighbors.
But to me, personally, what is way more painful, is murder of the trees. I know that’s a dramatic (and controversial) way to say it, but what else can you call killing a huge living thing that’s been here since before you were born??
I’ve written about this before…kind of like eulogies, but I think each one of these ancient stately beings deserves at least that much when they are taken down.
There is a young, mystery ecologist on the street and I’m just sure she wrote this sign the day the heavy equipment showed up at the yellow house…and she pinned it to my favorite tree.
but they didn’t….
So disrespectful of her remains…
I will miss her so much, and I am committed to working on understanding the perceived necessity of her demise.
This may be all that’s left of her…
But THIS is how I will remember her!
After the Queen interlude, see if you can put yourself all the way in the following short video…so you can meet my friend. Volume UP! (You may have to scroll up and down while viewing to see the whole thing.)
I LOVE this challenge.
See, I think I am pretty weird sometimes…what I see, how I see, and what I actually take pictures of.
This challenge frees me up in such a delightful way because you are primed to expect weird!!!
So here goes…definitely some oddballs I can’t classify any other way…
I’ll take my Hummer sightings any way I can get them!
Wow, this is one of my favorite photography challenges but this week, I am in awe, and pretty much left in the dust of some true artists! Not only are these entries beautiful pictures, but the knowledge and talent to change a photo to a work of art is really apparent here.
I like the following photos, mostly taken on walks in my neighborhood, but I do not know how to “change” them.
I hope you enjoy them anyway.
What an amazing time of year in the Great Northwest!
I’ll start with what I call the Wonder Wall. I wait for it to change like this every year.
And then some plants, bushes and trees on my street, none of which I can name, but love to see as they change each year.
These first 3 are what I call Autumn Berries. No idea what they actually are…
This one looks like CANDY to me. Yum!
And I love this yellow and green one. The leaves don’t ever fall off, just change color, and then change back in the Spring.
Always so sad to see the last apples of the year.
Can one of the Pros please tell me why the photo I see on my computer, before transferring to my WordPress post, is sometimes so much more crisp, clear and bright???
Oh, and it changes the size also, like only posts a portion of my shot?
I met a tree yesterday…a real old-timer, in the front yard of the new home of some dear friends. I spoke to it as I entered the house, asked if I could photograph it, and then left it to contemplate its answer.
When my visit with my friends was finished, I walked back out to visit the tree. I told it that while I was inside, I had checked on my phone for the daily photo challenge and discovered, coincidentally, the word for the day was branches and I wondered if it would be OK to take a few pictures of its glorious examples for my daily post.
It told me yes but only if I passed on this statement.
“I am a very old tree, even for my species, and I have sheltered this home, and its people since 1938.
I was here first.
I could live a lot, longer if I am allowed to.
Elderly trees like me are just like the elderly of your species. We are living, and breathing beings, and sentient, in our own way. As we age, we may need extra care, but…
We can tell you such stories……”
I grew up with a giant tree in my childhood front yard. I climbed way up in it to hide. Its branches held me safe and kept me invisible while the pain down in my house was happening.
I believe this tree has also held many children, but in joy and play.
I told the tree “Thank you for posing for my photos of Branches.”