The Quiet Observer

 

There is a Black Walnut tree on our grounds that sits near the barn. We are guessing that this tree is about 150 years old. It is older than the house (built in the early 1920's) and probably older than the original farm. I imagine that the house was built with this tree in mind. Is it an accident that you have a perfect view of it from the kitchen window? Beneath the tree are the remnants of an old chicken house - a rather large one. The ground there would make excellent, rich soil for planting, but as far as we know, nothing grows under a Black Walnut. In the Spring it is always the last tree to bloom. It stands in this incredible nakedness until you think...have we lost it this year? And then it seems like suddenly one morning you wake up and there it is, dressed to kill. One branch holds an old wooden swing and the other a porch swing which my husband added so that we could sit under the tree and look out across the pastures to the beautiful mountains. I think I understand the fascination with trees. They are the quiet observers of time. I watch my sons toss a football in the yard or swing on the swing and think, how many children have come and grown and gone beneath this tree?