Etcetera etcetera

Henry's ponderosa tree is not just his best friend; that tree is Henry's hero.

All ponderosas are rather heroic trees. Noble. In a mature forest they grow so straight and tall, with branches starting up so high, that they're just above people -- like an eagle, like the sky. One walks on roots. Ponderosa pine needles are as long as a person's foot or longer; their pine cones fit one to a hand. Their bark is thick enough to withstand fire, and in fact ponderosas prefer a good burn. Clears out the detritus. Their trunks scald, they might drop a few lower branches, and then they nod thanks.

Henry's tree, as I have said, is not like those others. It's quite tall but it lists; it grows out over the river. It asks to be climbed. And so Henry climbed it.

The first time he met that tree, Henry and his family had pitched a tent nearby. School had just let out. Later in the year they would hike to camp spots in the High Lakes; this place so close to town was a kind of early summer camping practice. The kids practiced falling asleep near their parents. The parents practiced letting their kids roam. Henry tended to roam far, so his parents were happy when he found a nice climbing tree that would keep him busy but close.

The second time he found the tree I described to you already. That was the time he discovered the tree could hide him, and he threw pine cones at his sister like some mad squirrel.

The third time he climbed the tree, it saved his life.