When I Was a Little Girl

I lived in a house that had a "horse tree" in the side yard. It was really more bush than tree, and little kids could get into it and play. There was a doorway, with a little cubby above it where you could hide berries and leaves. There was an arm that you could sit on and ride, hence the "horse" tree. There was a branch going straight up in the middle, like a fireman's pole.

Now I am an old girl, and at the south end of the corn crib is a huge trumpet vine that is tree-like. It has branches and swirls, and a perfect place to tuck a pot of geraniums. As I secured the pot I was drawn to remembrances of that earlier tree. What we see and feel as little ones has such an impact.