Planting Trees I’ll Never Climb

It's coming on Christmas They're cutting down trees They're putting up reindeer And singing songs of joy and peace — “River,” by Joni Mitchell |———|  Several mature water oak trees dot the front pasture, which is about three acres of Bahia grass leading to the highway. We set up some outdoor furniture beneath one of the trees. It is my favorite place to read when the weather is nice. Sometimes I nod off on a Sunday afternoon, lulled by the breeze whispering through the branches, the distant sound of traffic. I never sleep for long, maybe 15 minutes, then return to whatever book...

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