I am a tree

By Marc Milbradt of Slayton

My first memories are of darkness all around but warmth above, which I was growing toward. A short time later, I broke through the earth and felt the sun on my leaf. I didn’t think anything could feel so good. I was wrong. There was rain, cool and pure, washing my leaves.

And so the seasons went. Every season I grow taller and stronger.

Life as viewed through a tree. Contributed image

Then one spring I heard human footsteps and a small voice asking, “Daddy what are we looking for?” And Daddy said we are looking for a tree to take to our new home in Minnesota. A tree not too tall, but a tree tall enough to survive the long trip from Ohio to Minnesota. A black locust would fit the bill.

The little girl saw me first.

“Would this one do Daddy?”

He came and looked, and I felt proud and a little scared when he said this one would be perfect.

So he dug all around me and got me out of the ground, wrapped my roots in a gunny sack, and told the little girl she had to make sure the sack was always damp or wet. If it dried out, the tree would die.

And so began my long journey across the plains to a place called Minnesota.

Every morning before the sun was up, the little girl would water the bag to keep my roots wet, talking all the while telling me her hopes and dreams. Day after day, week after week, we traveled. Finally, one afternoon everyone was all excited and they said we’ll be there tomorrow.

I couldn’t wait to see my new home.

We arrived a bit after noon and everyone walked about looking at the site. The father would say we’ll put the house here, the barn over here, etc. The daughter finally asked “Daddy where does my tree go?” and he marched to a spot not far from the house site and said right here, arms outstretched, turning in a circle, right here! Your tree will provide shade for our house, protection from the sun, and a place to play under.

And so it was.

I was planted in the rich Minnesota soil, and I grew up and up and out. I became a magnificent tree, if I must say so myself. Cats and squirrels and children climbed on me, birds made their nests in me, I had many swings hung on me, and many a picnic or meals eaten under me.

After I was planted, the little girl dutifully watered me, always talking, always telling me her plans for when she would grow up. And one day she said she was leaving. She had met someone and she was getting married and would be moving away.

How could this be? I thought we would be together always, but I later realized I would outlive many owners. My life span was so different from humans.

And so I was alone. People, owners, came and went, but no one came and talked to me like the little girl, and I would miss that.

Like I said, owners would come all excited with their new life, their family would grow, and get older and leave. And the owner would get old and have to sell, and the new owner would come and the cycle would start all over again.

One day it started again. The owner said I will have to sell my land, I’m getting too old.

People came and looked at the land and the buildings, and the house. Some said the house didn’t have any running water, or any modern conveniences, whatever that meant.      

The old owner seemed to get along fine. The old owner raised beautiful cattle (Herefords they were called) and he loved his cattle and the pasture that they grazed in.

One day a potential buyer was looking at the farm site and the land, and commented on if he’d push down the trees and get rid of the pasture so he’d have more acres to farm. The old man threw him off the farm, he loved his pasture.

Then a new couple showed up. I liked him right off the bat, especially when he walked up to me, laid his hand on me and said, “What a beautiful tree!”

I was so proud and excited. Here was someone I could talk to again. And then he started talking about the beautiful pasture, and how he would love to graze his cattle out there, and I could see the old owner had found a buyer.

And so the cycle started again.

The young couple moved in, in the spring, fixed up the house, got those modern conveniences, made the big barn into a dairy barn, and got his cows out into the pasture. The young couple struggled a bit. He was pretty new to farming, guess his dad did most of that, but he sure was a good dairy farmer. The wife worked at a bank and would occasionally feed the calves when she came home, but I always got the impression she was looking for something. Then a couple years later they had a little boy, and a short time later, another. Maybe that’s what she was looking for.

Every morning when the new owner would wake up and go to milk the cows, he’d walk by and say good morning. Sometimes, he and the old dog (Schnooks) would sit and lean against me and just talk, just like the little girl a long time ago. Those were special times.

Then came the day when he came and said she’s leaving, she’s going away, and she’s not coming back. She cleaned out the house, took the car, took the two boys. Guess she was still looking for something.

After that, the fire and excitement left the owner. He didn’t take care of his cows or anything. He didn’t want to do anything. He just sat, he was so depressed and sad.

Another young lady started showing up. She had two boys also. She would help him the best she could, make his meals, wash his clothes. By winter she and the boys had moved in.

She was a good wife, helped him a bit, but she had her own shop in town, and he needed a lot of help now. Depression got worse and worse and I was worried about him.

One day I saw him walking past, on his way to the pasture, carrying the old dog. I could tell old dog had died and the master was going to bury him under the big oak on the hill overlooking the pasture. That really hit him hard as he and the old dog were always together. Now he’d have no one to talk to but me.

That next fall, the boys got a sister. She added a bit of happiness, but it wasn’t enough.

One day the master said, “I’m going to have to sell everything.” I can’t keep doing this. I have nothing left.

And so the cycle started again.

I watched as he lined up all his machinery, all his possessions, all his dreams, gone, sold off. One can’t describe how painful it is for a farmer to have to sell his machinery, cattle, and land.

Farmers have a strange attachment to their land, maybe it’s from all the sweat and blood they put into it. People from the cities can’t understand it. I know I heard the master say he had a container of earth from where he grew up, and he would take one from here.

And so he was gone. I was alone again. I watched him pack up his few belongings and drive off, knowing I’ll never see him again. I’m going to miss our talks.

So different people came and went. No buyers, only renters. Seasons came and went.

Then one day there came a buyer. Someone to set down roots. He came from far away and had his funny way of talking, and a funny way of doing things, which leads me to my last chapter.

One morning a huge semi rolled onto the place, and on it was a massive bulldozer. He started that thing up and headed toward the silo! In a short time he had pushed the silo down!! I couldn’t believe it. I remember when it went up, the master was so proud and now these idiots had pushed it down. How is he going to feed his cows?

Now he’s heading for the barn. Surely he’s not going to push that down? That beautiful old barn, I remember when they put that up. It was the nicest barn for miles around. Now it’s gone. I can’t believe it, where is he going to house his cattle?

Now where’s he going? He’s heading up here toward the house. I suppose he’s going to push the house down. Then he won’t have anywhere to sl----. Just a minute, he’s not heading toward the house, he’s heading for me!!

So, this is the end. I guess modern farmers don’t have time for old barns and trees.

I’ve had a long good life. I’ll remember the young lady that planted me, watered me, and I’ll remember the master and the old dog that sat beneath my branches.

I am – I was a tree! I was a black locust!!