Tag Archives: trees

May 19, 2026 · 1:09 pm

Into the Woods

It’s no wonder the novel The Secret Garden resonated so deeply with me when I was around ten. I found myself identifying with the characters who became immersed within the natural world, inside a special, hidden-from-civilization plot of greenery that ended up healing them in some way. And since I grew up surrounded by woods and thickets, I became enveloped by endless groves of tall trees, season after season, never wanting to leave what seemed like home.

The scent of pine mingled deliciously with the tang of autumn, only to be overshadowed by the sweet aroma of blossoms each spring. And I can’t begin to describe what it felt like to be enshrouded by the lush vegetation come summer. I still remember how cool and smooth the maple leaves felt against my skin. Even winter, with fresh snow sitting atop tree branches, offered a special brand of awe in my secret garden.

Although much of the time I was alone in the woods, sometimes my brother or the neighborhood kids would join me. For hours on end, we’d wander through the trees and brush, turning over flat rocks to see what hid beneath them, transforming errant sticks into spears and knives and building all manner of forts over what seemed like limitless acreage of forest. Footpaths snaked through the woods, connecting each of those beloved forts.

The ravine where most of our time was spent was a challenge to climb as I recall, but we managed to make it to the top despite masses of leaves slipping underfoot. Of course, it was worth it because the view from the other side was spectacular. Besides, after reaching the summit, we’d discover multitudes of huge, moss-covered oaks that beckoned for us to sit and read a good book, if we remembered one, that is. I’m not sure there’s a reading nook quite so perfect, nestled on a spongy blanket of moss while leaning against an unyielding tree trunk, breathing in the intoxicating scent of the earth.

To say that I’m grateful to have had such a nature-immersed childhood is an understatement—chapters of my life that I won’t soon forget. I think all three of our kids had one, too. But I fear the majority of kids today aren’t being afforded a similar experience. Whether it’s due to trepidation regarding the safety of our charges while they’re unsupervised or because said charges are inextricably glued to screens.

Regardless of why, I still think scores of impressionable youths are missing out on connecting with their environment in a way that could positively impact their lives. That said, kids need to play in the woods. They need to breathe fresh air. They need to build forts. They need to work together with their friends toward a common goal (constructing something that won’t collapse right away) and get their hands dirty in the process. And they need to spend time in those forts—forts that are in a constant state of development and redesign, utilizing their creativity and making their brains work harder. Tree forts, I dare say, require even more critical thinking skills. I’ll never forget the one my friends and I attempted to erect using an enormous cardboard box and ladder, perilously fastened to a tree. It didn’t end well, but we all learned something valuable.

Thankfully, by the time our daughters were traipsing around in the woods with hammers in hand, we had enough sense to provide them with wood scraps and pallets, not cardboard. And the forts that were built out of them held up to the weather for years, although now there’s little trace that said forts ever existed.

But they know they existed, and that has made all the difference.

Welcome to my world. It’s where I live (probably rereading The Secret Garden). Visit me there at www.facebook.com/NotesFromPlanetMom. Signed books are available on Etsy at PlanetMomMarket.

A Tree is Nice

We have a half-dead tree in our yard. Make that FIVE half-dead trees. A pine, an ash and three fruit-bearing ones, although they haven’t produced much of anything in a very long while. Hence, the time has come to take them down, which by almost anyone’s standards makes perfect sense. It’ll be safer, since the risk of toppling over during a windstorm will be reduced to zero. We’ll also likely get some ample firewood out of the deal and we’ll free up a sizeable portion of the lawn for Frisbee in the process.

Everything about the felling of said trees is good. Except that it isn’t. The sad part of it is that there are memories attached to the trees in question—especially the peach tree, whose blossoms burst forth each spring in a glorious explosion of pink. Likewise, in winter its snow-covered boughs make me want to fetch the camera to freeze the moment in time. I just know I’ll look out my window weeks from now and lament that we ever made the decision to cut it down and dig up its roots, erasing from my mind the notion that it ever existed.

For more than 20 years we’ve been harvesting peaches from that tree. My husband was the designated proper-upper of craggy branches, assigned with the task of placing boards beneath its heavy limbs, laden with bushels of ripened fruit. Together we picked them, sampled them and then hauled bucket after bucket into the garage—a staging area for figuring out what to do with them next. Fruit flies be damned.

I wish I could claim that I baked an impressive number of pies with what we reaped over the years, but that would be a lie. Many of my neighbors, however, probably did, as we were inclined to give away scads of the fuzzy fruit each September, knowing we’d never consume all that we had gathered.

Likewise, I’m sure I’ll recollect a time when I watched my twin toddlers from the very same window, perched upon their dad’s lap as he circled the peach, the apple and the pear tree with the riding lawn mower. Round and round they would go, ducking beneath the limbs, smiling in the sun. One year they even built a teepee of sorts by leaning leafy branches we had trimmed from other trees against it. For days on end that summer, it was the most wonderful fortress in all the land, providing a haven of shade and camouflage for all who were so fortunate to crawl inside.

The aforementioned peach tree was one of their first climbing trees, too, its mossy branches low to the ground, inviting gangly children to develop and hone their scaling skills. I remember hoisting them up, assuring them it was perfectly safe and that it would be worth the effort because of the view it afforded them. After they had mastered the peach tree, it was on to taller and more daring venues, like the maple in the back yard, and the massive oak out front.

It’s possible I’ll miss the dear trees we plan to chop down, as well as any others we might lose in the years to come, because they remind me so much of my childhood—a time during which I practically lived in the woods behind my house, building a plethora of forts and climbing to the tops of trees all summer long, carving my initials there as a way of marking territory and perhaps time. I often wonder if my carvings remain, or even if the trees are still standing straight and tall. Far above the ground, swaying in the breeze was one of my favorite places to be, enveloped by a canopy of verdant leaves, summer after delicious summer. From my lofty perch, time was suspended, after all, and all was right with the world.

I can only hope that my progenies have had enough time in their special trees to make memories that will last.

Planet Mom: It’s where I live, lamenting the fact that our peach tree will soon be history. Visit me there at www.facebook.com/NotesfromPlanetMom.

Comments Off on A Tree is Nice

Filed under "N" is for Nostalgia, A Tree is Nice, Endless Summer, Gratitude, Love and Loss, motherhood, Unplugged

Tagged as childhood memories, nature, nature lover, parenting, tree climbing, tree house, tree hugger, trees

April 25, 2022 · 5:33 pm

A Tree is Nice

www.melindawentzel.com We have a half-dead tree in our yard. Make that FIVE half-dead trees. A pine, an ash and three fruit-bearing ones, although they haven’t produced much of anything in a very long while. Hence, the time has come to take them down, which by almost anyone’s standards makes perfect sense. It’ll be safer, since the risk of toppling over during a windstorm will be reduced to zero. We’ll also likely get some ample firewood out of the deal and we’ll free up a sizeable portion of the lawn for Frisbee in the process.