The Crankee Yankee and I enjoy bringing our cups of coffee out on our front porch in the early morning. We chat, wave at people passing by, and, because it is Fall, we enjoy the colored leaves of the huge tree across the street from us. Some years the tree’s fall colors are just “meh,” but this year they are spectacular.
That tree is what I would call a great climbing tree. If I were a kid again, I would be scrambling up that tree with a book in my back pocket. I know a good climbing tree when I see it. I can just imagine how it would be to sit on a branch, surrounded by all those gorgeous leaves of bright red, orange and yellow.
There is something rather wonderful about climbing a tree. When I was a kid, I would pick out the right tree to climb, and up I’d go; my book in one hand, the other hand grasping limb after limb, and a sandwich in my pocket. It was both peaceful and wonderful.
Well, my tree climbing days are long over, but I remember still what it was like. That’s really the only thing I mind about getting older; you can’t (or shouldn’t) do the things you used to do. Besided, if I tried climbing that tree today, the Crankee Yankee would call the police to get his idiot wife down; how embarrasing is that?
Those were the days; I could climb any tree I chose. I could sit on a branch, my back to the middle of the tree, reading (with no glasses), and eating a sandwich my mother made for me. What days those were!
But at least I can still enjoy the beautiful fall colors and NOT fall out of a tree!