My childhood was spent in Springfield, Mo. which is situated in the heart of the Ozark mountains. Consequently, trees played a large part in my life, and to this moment, I think with intense fondness of wooded picnic areas, of acres of black walnut groves, and of picking hickory nuts from thick forest floors. I recall climbing high into trees and of once building a tree house in our yard. Well, actually, it consisted of a few boards, hammered into place, but it functioned as a lounge-about-spot for my siblings, cousins and friends. Once either my sister Donna or my brother Junior got stuck in the high tree near the back of our yard, and was afraid to come down. I can’t remember which one of them it was, but it worried me, and I recall Mama standing at the base of the tree urging him/her down.
Closer to our house we had a peach tree. I was learning to play the violin, and I think my parents were not terribly fond of hearing me practice which no doubt led to my clear memory of my propping music in the forked branch of the peach tree, and of practicing the violin as I stood in the side yard. That must have been a sight and there’s no telling what the neighbors said. I don’t believe they thought I was a budding virtuoso, for I have no recollection of anyone standing around to gather in the magnificent stringed tones!
Earlier today I found pictures of remarkable treehouses, have posted some of them and urge you to click the link that will show you the others.
From weburbanists: 10 Tree Houses
Those are fabulous treehouses, but there is nothing quite like a couple of boards nailed high in a tree supporting a gaggle of giggling girls (with a boy or two thrown in). For a tender vignette, tuck in a peach tree music stand with a pigtailed girl pulling the bow across rosined violin strings.
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My devotional blog is here.
Shirley Buxton 