Falling down

I set myself a couple of goals this month, one of which was to write a blog post a day (for writing practice). Then the US financial system began to implode -- a few months after our local economy came to a screeching halt, by the way, causing problems for quite a lot of people -- and writing about plants and children, as I always do, seemed inappropriate. When debris is falling, one ducks, right? Runs for cover? It's foolish to stand here with an umbrella talking about my funny, adorable kids.

On the other hand, perhaps we're in a tent waiting out a snowstorm; if so, we could spend the time talking about what interests us.

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Did you hear the story about the boy -- his name is Henry -- whose best friend is a ponderosa tree? Henry has a ponderosa tree in his front yard, and it's a fine tree but it's not his best friend. His best friend stands in a forest of other ponderosas down by the Deschutes River.

Now, most ponderosas, like the one in his yard and the others in the forest, grow straight-straight-straight-straight (straight as a board) and their branches start up so high you'd have to be an acrobat to climb one. Henry's ponderosa is crooked. It leans out over the river. Its branches are low and thick. Henry can climb it without a worry; he can sit in it secure as a squirrel, peeling off pieces of bark and tossing them in the river below.

Henry's mother said he has a porcupine family to thank for his crooked tree. She said porcupines will girdle trees with their nests. Henry replied that he would say thanks, if he ever could find a porcupine to say it to.

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I thought up this story the other day. Tt's not finished yet, of course. This is just a sketch... Sasha says there's no way a kid could have a tree for a best friend, but Blake thinks it's possible. What do you think?