Linden Summer Dreams

Have you ever had a scent that took you far away?
To a distant memory where you once did play?
Well this happened to me on a sleepy summer day...

It came about when I did a walk one sunny afternoon
And suddenly I stepped inside a special kind of room
I then I heard a buzzing sound up in the canopy
The humming of the honey bees intoxicated me
But most of all, what I recall was the sweet perfume
Wafting o'er my senses five, it slowly did consume.

Above the flowers sweet and gold were bracts so green and long
They looked like helicopter wings delicate but strong
Amidst the fragrance and the sound, I slowly fell asleep
And dreamed of places far away with stories wild and deep



Bees a chanting...
       Eyelids slanting...
               Wings a spinning...
                            Dreams beginning...
       


The fragrance carried me away with its scent sublime
To other places in the world and to other times
Places where the linden tree is loved and so revered
For its special treasures for a multitude of years

Slovenia was the special place I first saw in the east
Where children danced around the tree during spring time feasts

And then I saw the linden tree in Polish countrysides
Protecting castles and churches old with reverence and pride
And artisans were carving wood from the linden tree
Of Mary holding her little child oh so tenderly
​
​And then I flew to cities grand, Berlin and Paris too
Where linden trees dotted streets and giant avenues
And mothers in the land of France had a wisdom best
Linden tea for children young to help them sleep and rest
And it is said in tales of old that maidens young and free
Waited for their knights so bold 'neath the linden tree 
In Germany the leaders met in tiny village squares
Underneath the linden tree to make a judgement fair
For linden trees were symbols then of justice, truth and peace
In ancient lands and ancient times of Turkey, Rome and Greece

I flew around the world it seemed on that summer's day
To places where the linden tree had stories old to say

So if you ever find yourself amidst the linden sap
You just might like to fall asleep for a summer nap
And climb aboard to journey far on helicopter wings 
Where the linden tree is loved by poets, knights and kings.

written by Christine Summerfield © July 22, 2018

Springtime's Magic Snow

Petals falling on the ground, what makes you wander so?
Silently, without a sound...spring time's magic snow.

When the wind it comes around, blowing to and fro
Like snowflakes swirling round and round, spring time's magic snow.

Fluffy, white and silky soft on my fingers and toes
Tufty white and milky...springtime's magic snow

If you're wondering who it is, his name by now you'll know
Thank you Crab Tree for your gift, spring time's magic snow!

​written by Christine Summerfield, May 30, 2018

"I'm getting old" says tired old tree
Who will come and visit me?
I'll settle in before winter comes
And lean towards the setting sun.

   It was the month of December on the shores of Silver Lake. Crystals twinkled and sprinkled on the water. George walked through the garden in his shiny red boots. He was used to hearing all kinds of sounds in the garden, birds singing and squirrels chirping, but now, all was quiet and still. The was a gentle hush in the garden as it was now falling asleep.
   
Inside the house, his mother was busy baking cookies and simmering hot apple cider. George could smell the cinnamon and nutmeg all throughout the house. He loved a hot cup of cider after walking outside all day in the cold, crisp air. "This is a time for giving to others" she would say. " A time to make gifts and share them with our family and friends."  Even though it was hard, he learned to share his favorite cookies with his neighbors and friends. How he delighted to see their smiling faces as they opened up a tin of star-shaped cookies.
   
   As George wandered through the garden, he poked about here and there with his favorite walking stick. He looked for worms and beetles and bugs, but could not find any. Most of the birds had flown away for the winter. Even the busy squirrels were not there to wiggle their fluffy tails at him, inviting him to play. All was quiet.
   
   And to add to the hush of this time of year, there was not much color in the garden. All of the blossoms had faded and the bulbs lay asleep under the ground until spring. He could see brown on the barks of the trees and grey in the sky. But the evergreens did shine bright. The cedars, spruces, and pines filled his heart with joy. "I never really noticed you before  in the spring and summer" he said to them with a smile. "Now that all is brown, I can see your bright green needles."
   
​   Just then, George heard a sound above him. It was a cackling and a crackling. Two big brother crows flapped their wings and then "whoosh!" they flew away towards the shore. As George looked up, he saw the tree that the black birds were in.It was Grandfather Cottonwood Tree, his favorite tree that he had climbed last year for the very first time. 

But now, there were no leaves on this tree.It was bare, brown and dry. George saw new things he had never noticed before about the tree. "I never noticed how big your trunk was before" he said to the tree. How strong and mighty you are! The tree stretched and yawned and leaned down towards the ground as if to settle down for a long winter's nap. George ran his soft small hands along the trunk of the tree."Oh, how rough and dry you are!" he said. He looked and saw no nests in the tree. There were no birds, or animals to be found. Then George began to wonder.
   
   "I don't see any animals here around you. I wonder if you are lonely" he said to the tree. "I have family and friends and neighbors to play with. Perhaps you too would like some friends." George thought about the Christmas tree that hung so proudly in his home. It was decorated with all kinds of fancy things-shiny glitter, candles, apples and a gold star at the top. There were even a few red robins that his mother had stitched out of wool felt. He loved looking at that tree each night and watching it twinkle in the darkness. That tree was magic.
   
​   And then, George got an idea. It was a special idea. He ran to the garden shed and got his little willow basket, some scissors and some twine. Then he walked through the garden, looking for little treasures. "There IS still some color left!" he said as he snipped some fat, red rose hips and some long juniper branches full of purple blue berries.

​He also snipped some red vines that had dried black berries and an evergreen vine with white berries. He even cut some cedar sprigs and a few pine boughs with pinecones till on them. "Oh, there's LOTS to see this time of year in the garden!" he exclaimed. And he kept filling his basket until it was full to the brim. 

   And then George tip toed into his mother's sewing room and gathered some colorful tufts of wool and some pretty threads from her scrap basket. And in the kitchen, he quietly took one red apple from the bowl on the dining room table. He polished it and made it shine brightly. "Now I have something to give to another!" he said to himself as he walked out the door.
   
​   George skipped to the Grandfather Cottonwood tree and emptied his basket of treasures on the ground. "See?" he said to the tree. "These are all for you! You have given so much to me in all of the seasons. I have climbed you in the spring, took naps under your summer shade and played peek a boo in your autumn leaves. Now I want to give back to you!"
   
​   George carefully cut pieces of string and tied them to the vines, branches and sprigs. One by one, he strung them along the lower branches of the tree. The berries looked just like a string of colored lights shining in the sun. "And here" he said, as he squeezed the soft cedar needles. "See how good this smells? Just like the cookies baking in our house, you too can smell the cedar from this bough." The old tree bent down as if to take in the fragrance of the fresh greenery.

​   Then, George spread little tufts of colored wool in the hollow of the tree, as if to make a wee nest. He strung the scraps of pretty threads in the branches and they blew softly in the gentle breeze. He place the red apple among his twisting roots. The  shiny red could easily be seen against the brown on the bark. "There!" he said. Now you too are quite fancy, just like the Christmas tree in our house!"

   The old tree admired the colors that hung from his branches. Just then, a handsome blue jay landed on his branch and nibbled on some of the berries. And soon after, brother squirrel hopped over and started to nibble on the apple. The old tree listened to the squirrel's stories of all the friends he had met that day on his adventures on Silver Lake. And as the sun was setting, a sleepy mother mouse arrived with her 3 babies and they curled up in the little woolly nest. Grandfather tree now had many friends.

   The old tree was no longer lonely. He was happy to be with his newly found friends, the bird, the squirrel and the family of mice. George knew the tree was content. Once again, he rubbed his soft, white hands along the tree's bark as if to say "Merry Christmas dear friend." The tree nodded in return in silent reply as if to say "Thank you George. You have given me the best gift of all. The gift of companionship."

 Later that night, as George entered his home, he put his little red boots to dry by the fire and smiled to himself as he thought of Grandfather Cottonwood tree, surrounded by his new friends. He imagined the tree was smiling inside, just as George was too. How happy he was to give back to the old tree.

​"I am old" says tired old tree
There was a time when I was young and free
Thank you George, for your treasures fine
You truly are a friend of mine."

written by Christine Summerfield-December 2017

Old Tree Finds a Friend

It was early spring by the shores of Silver Lake. The quiet earth was waking up from her long winter's sleep. Green shoots were peeking out of the ground and buds swelled on the branches of the apple trees. Grandmother Winter had knitted one last blanket of snow over the land in the meadow. The animals were building their homes for their babies to be born in spring.

One apple tree stood all by himself at the edge of the meadow. He was the oldest of all the apple trees and he lived all alone. His trunk was crooked and leaned down towards the earth. There were no buds on his branches. Underneath, his bark peeled and fell to the ground.

As he watched the other trees fill with nests of robins and squirrels, he bent his head down low. He too wanted a friend to make a home in his trunk. "Who will come and visit me?" he wondered. "My bark is old and rough and I have no soft, green buds anymore."

Just them a white tailed rabbit hopped by. She was looking for a home. She leaned against the tree, trying to burrow herself inside and feel cozy. "Oh, this tree is too rough for me" she said. "My fur is so soft. I will itch and scratch on this tree." And off she hopped to find a softer home.

A little while later, a mother lady bug gently landed on the tree. She too was looking for a home for her babies. As she crept along the brown bark, she cried "this bark is too brown for me. My pretty shell is much too shiny and it will show up too much against these dark brown walls. I need a home where I will feel safe and no one can spot me. And away she flew in search of a more colorful home.

Molly mouse scurried along the bark of the tree, looking to settle in to the right home for her babies that would be born that spring. Her soft whiskers brushed against the rough, dry bark. She looked for a little pond of water to bathe in but could not find any. "Ooh" she cried. "This tree is much too dry and far away from the pond, where I like to collect my thistle down from the milk weed pods. I must find a home closer to the pond." And off she ran in search of water.

"Goodness me" thought the tree. "Who will make a home in my trunk? Surely someone will come and keep me company this spring. His trunk sagged a little lower to the ground. He felt sad and lonely. Some of his bark even peeled off and fell to the ground. As the sun set in the evening, he bent his head down low and cried himself to sleep.

The next morning, a mother spider awoke early. She crawled along the bark under the old apple tree. She carefully looked at all of the nooks and crannies inside the rough, dry bark. "Ooh" she said to herself. It is nice and quiet here. Far away from other creatures. I won't be bothered here and I can spin my web in peace. The walls are dark brown, just like me! I could hide safely in here and no one would find me. And just look at this scratchy bark! It is just right for me to build my web onto. It will attach well to the rough edges and be strong and sturdy against brother north wind. This is the perfect house for me!"

And so, Mother Spider set to work, busily spinning her web. She carefully crafted each thin strand and her web stuck strong to the bark. The old tree watched with wonder as the silvery, delicate web came to life. And as she finished weaving her last thread, tiny dew drops collected in the web and they twinkled and shone in the morning sun.

​The old tree smiled at those sparkling jewels and said "thank you dear spider. You are just the friend I have been waiting for.Your web is so fine and delicate against my scratchy, old bark. How I delight in watching you spin and weave. And the fresh dew drops remind me of when I was a young and supple tree. You have made me happy in my old age." Looking up towards the sky, he stretched his trunk up high and smiled at Father Sun.

And so, the spider and the tree lived together that spring. The old apple tree shared stories of his past years in the meadow and the spider spun stories of spring times yet to come.

George and the Curly Catkins

Catkins catkins hanging from a tree
Dancing in the wind...tra loo, tra lah, tra lee   

   It was late in the month of April on the shores of Silver Lake. All that week, it had been sprinkling and raining, but this time, George woke up to see a blanket of heavy, white snow on the branches of the lilacs and willow tree outside his window. "That snow is much too heavy for those soft, delicate branches" he said to himself."They might break. I must go outside and tap the snow free from them."
  
   George pulled on his shiny red boots and buttoned up his warm coat. He covered his head with his woolly cap and stepped outside. There, leaning against the wall by the front door, was his walking stick. It was strong and sturdy and was as long as he was tall. He had found it under the grandfather cottonwood tree after the early spring snow storm. He walked outside into the chilly, snowy wind with his lucky stick.
 
Smishy smashy, Smishy smashy...went his little red boots as he walked in the soft, black mud.
Drippety droppety, drippety droppety...fell big, fat drops of water from the branches above his head. The drops made pretty polka dot patterns in the mud below. "My, oh my" he cried. "Mother Earth is getting a good soak today.I am sure the tree roots are drinking up the water and the worms are happy too."

   George took his stick and gently tapped the snow off of the lilac branches. He reached up as high as he could to do the same for the willow tree. The branches bounced happily back up, being set free from all that heavy snow. He knew that he was helping the branches from breaking.

As George poked about here and there with his stick, he found curly green catkins all over the ground. They were everywhere! He crouched down to look at them more closely. He picked up one and held it in his hand. "Ooh" he said, "this is soft and furry. It looks just like a caterpillar." He petted it with gentle care. "Wouldn't these be nice to put inside a bird's nest? George thought about how much he loved his warm and cozy bed at home, with the blue and green quilt his grandmother had knitted for him. Then, he smiled as he thought of Mother Robin and her babies curled up cozy in their nest of furry, green catkins.

Just then, George had an idea. He skipped back home to the garden shed and found his new basket. It was round and was the size of his dinner plate. His mother had just woven it out of soft, young willow branches earlier that spring. He took the basket back to the great willow tree. He gathered the green fuzzy catkins and placed them in the basket. While he worked, he hummed a little tune:

Catkins catkins hanging from a tree
Dancing in the wind...Tra loo, tra lah, tra lee

When his basket was full, he walked along the path, looking for the perfect place to leave his gift for the birds. "It must be just right" he said to himself. "It must be safe from Brother Wind or they will all scatter and blow away." George was a slow but steady walker. Patiently he strolled, with his arms lovingly wrapped around the basket of green curly catkins. While he walked, he hummed his little tune.

Catkins catkins hanging from a tree
Dancing in the wind...tra loo, tra lah, tra lee.

He stopped to rest on a stump by the edge of the path. He listened. High above in the sky, he spotted a robin, with her round, red breast. She was brave and sturdy to be out in the spring time snow. She was flying high. Something was dangling from her yellow beak. George looked more closely. It was a catkin! "She must be building her nest!" he said to himself. George got up with his basket and followed the bird until she landed on the branch of the tall willow tree, the one just outside his bedroom window.

George knew just what to do. He crawled under the bushes that led to the roots of the great willow tree. He brushed aside the dry, brown leaves and carefully placed the basket of catkins at the bottom of the tree. George smiled and dipped his hand inside the soft, furry bundle one last time. Then, he looked up to Mother Robin and said "here is my spring time gift to you. May you and your babies be safe and warm in your new home."

George walked through the door of his own home, happy to see the pot of cinnamon tea steeping on the kitchen table. He placed his little red boots by the fire to dry. He poured himself a cup of tea and curled up on his bed, deep in the folds of his blue and green quilt. As he sipped his tea, he looked out the window and saw the long willow branches swaying in the wind, back and forth, with the green curly catkins dangling below. It was is if the tree were waving to George saying "thanks for taking such good care of me!" Then, George drifted off to sleep for his afternoon nap, gently humming the words to his little spring time tune...

Catkins catkins hanging from a tree
​Dancing in the wind...tra loo, tra lah, tra lee.

Cottonwood Puffs
O tiny little puffs of air floating all around
You suddenly are here and there and do not make a sound.
I wonder where you come from and where are you going?
You seem to wander all about without a care of knowing.
"We come from grandmother cottonwood tree" whispered their reply
"We do not tarry very long, our breath is like a sigh"
Then whoops! one landed on my nose and gave a little itch
But you just merrily flew away laughing in a stitch!
And then another came drifting by and softly kissed my cheek
Just like a gentle lullaby you send me off to sleep.
To dream of white and fluffy clouds that look a lot like you
I'll see you there in summer dreams 
In soft skies of blue.