Tree Hugger

That is me.
I am a tree-hugger. Not in the way the media uses the phrase, but in the purest sense:
I. Love. Trees. Any kind of tree, anywhere. Alive, dead, rotting, cut up into camp fire stump stools, crafted into multi-thousand-dollar furniture.
I ask you: What's not to love? They are vital to the biosphere, to life on the planet, to life in the air, on the ground, and underground. They are vital to human existance from antiquity: where would the human race be without trees? Fire, shelter, tools, transportation on ground and on water, communication- tribal drums to wood cuts to the finest papers-, music, art, food, & modern materials from rubber to resins to extracts used in medication and research. Trees protect us, comfort us, sustain us, nourish us- in ways both physical and non-tangible.

Some of my greatest memories take place in trees.
The tree across the street from my bestest friend's house, in whose branches we spent hours upon hours playing. It's limbs formed our house, our spaceship, our boat, our fortress... It was a friend, one that i made sure to thank and say goodbye to when my friend's mother sold the house when i was an adult.
The trees in the mountains surrounding the camp my family went to for church retreats and family camps- towering pines, shimmering aspens. What smells, what sounds, what sights greeted my little kid senses as i explored the hillsides on nature hikes, in expeditions with my friends, or on solitary adventures in the quiet majesty of living things so old, so extensive, so solid, so real- yet so mysterious and secretive.
I remember the playground area at the camp, created out of lengths of pine branches with the bark still on them. One complete structure that included swings, ladder and "fort"- a walled, roofless deck of pine, up higher than the log to which the swings were attached, and accessible only by a vertical ladder of bark-covered horizontal pine branches. To my little stature, that fort was towering. We used to "battle" to see who commanded that fort. We'd pick off the bark to see the insect grooves underneath- and we carried red clay up to use as mortar between the vertical pine branches that formed the chest-high walls... it was replaced long ago by something more modern, more "safe" (more boring).
Then there were the huge old cottonwoods that lined the banks of the two ponds behind the apartments we lived in when i was in 3rd to 5th grade. Those trees each had special secrets, compartments, personalities... Giant old trees with thick, multiple trunks that formed platforms, nooks, alcoves, rooms: nest-like areas at ground level, or sometimes higher up, with the multiple trunks centered on one giant base trunk creating giant arboreal candelabras... Sometimes the thick trunk-sized branches stretched out almost horizontally over the pond's water, allowing young tree-friends to sit or lay under green canopies while gazing down at their reflections, the shimmering surface blending the boundaries between human, tree, leaves, and sky...
Of course, sometimes the best trees were commandeered by other denizens of the natural world- loud hissing and honking indicating to the child clamboring into the cottonwood room that it was now the property of nesting geese. Much to my consternation, they always seemed to appropriate the best trees... Stinky geese...
There was a tree we called the "Monkey Tree" at that same place, Not a cottonwood, and smaller, but with many more low branches radiating out from ground level, suitable to clamboring around in and swinging from, jumping up into and out of, a giant natural jungle gym. And no geese.
There were also apple trees in an old orchard, there at those apartments. i recall spending quality time climbing them as well, sometimes looking for ripe fruit to enjoy as an afternoon snack. Years later, one of my best college-era memories is of the day-trip I took with 2 friends to Madison County, Iowa (to see the "famed" covered bridges). Somewhere in Madison County, we found a park with apple trees. The lower branches were all picked clean, and the trees were small enough that climbing up higher wasn't an option. So i climbed up into the multi-trunk trunk, grabbed a couple of the larger branches, and shook as hard as i could. Kirsten and Cathy were left to scramble out of range of the sudden apple-sized hail. We found 3-4 that had dropped and also had no worm holes. That little apple was one of the most delicious things i have ever eaten. Ever.

I have gone on long enough about trees. I'm sure there will be more stories in the future. But considering that i've been working on this posting now since January 25, i'm going to just post the thing already!
What are your favorite tree stories?