kite and string

Angebote / Angebote:

There was a tree in the backyard we called, "the Climbing Tree." It was the one we climbed, after all. Rachel claimed the higher branches as her own. I set up camp a few rungs lower. Haley, the youngest, was assigned the thick slabby limbs nearest to the base where she wouldn't fall far if she fell. We had our spots, but we shared the whole tree. Our names changed once we left the ground. Rachel went by "Songbird, " and Haley by "Giggling Squirrel." I don't remember what I called myself. I think I changed my name a lot. None of them ever stuck for very long. We only ever used these names in the Climbing Tree. That's where they were born, and where they remained. They're probably still up there. We whittled away the days and the hours of three seasons a year up in the tree. We told each other tall tales about how we earned our namesakes and what special abilities we had. We were each of us impressive creatures full of wit and sly and strength (and some of us were invisible, and some of us could fly, and some of us could change into different animals). Using sticks that we pointed off with rocks from the Down Below, we drilled holes the dimensions of baby carrots through the bark and into the hard pulp of the ashwood. The Climbing Tree didn't seem to mind, and anyways we needed the holes to store dried leaves and pebbles in. These were our supplies that would get us through another hard Minnesotan winter. Some days we would crack a few sticky ears of the neighbor's corn off the stalk and shell them high up in the Climbing Tree, making a "corn storm" that would rain yellow "corn drops" through the limbs and bring us good luck.