They range from the happenings of a toddler to what we see and admire in our old age. They often cease to be inanimate objects and take on personalities. We frequently speak of their character. We interact with them and they become woven into the very fabric of our lives. Occasionally they become a part of who we are.
Trees figure into our lives in assorted ways.
How often they shade us from an otherwise scorching summer sun. Perhaps we recall the one that the old swing hung in. Then there's the one which produced the broken arm. We remember the beech tree into whose smooth gray hide we carved our sweetheart's name or initials. How we observed the hollow oak, home for squirrels, raccoons, possums, owls, bees, birds and bats.