This old cottonwood is a favorite. I’ve seen the owl pair bring their owlets to this tree every March since 1999. I’ve seen a hawk, hassled by magpies to her breaking point, grab a magpie and kill it fast, letting the carcass hang for days. The magpies stopped after that.
This tree started growing when my Grandma Marie was a baby on the Southside of Chicago.
This tree saw maybe the last of the Arapahoe leave.
This tree was where a lot of high school students fumbled with each other for the first time in the backseats of cars in the 60s, or so my friend Kim, born and raised here, says.
I lie down at the foot of this tree on a late summer evening and look up to see the birds start swooping; flycatchers, swallows, kingfishers, and kites, and minutes later, the bats come, everyone eating the dragonflies who are eating the midges who are hatching out of the grass. One huge blue dragonfly lands near me with a wasp. A frenzy of flying and buzzing but it is calming. No one pays attention to me or this tree; we are just here, part of something bigger, watching.
Marie McHale Drake 
One of these days, weeks, months, years, or – god forbid – you’re going to recognize that you have a special gift with words that must – NOT ought – must be shared beyond your email list. It’s wonderful getting these impacting, striking words, les mots justes, but somehow, somewhere, some time it’s gonna be time to start submitting your pieces, and definitely to self-publish. I know what it’s like, I have a special gift for writing children stories, probably because I’m such a kid myself and identify with that level, and despite much encouragement from Marg, Kim and Alexis for 4 decades, have always blown it off.
Please don’t be that person. Please don’t delay, or you’ll wake up at 72 and say, “Shit, shoulda done that.” You’re too damn good for that!! .
Your friend,
HUgh
Thank you Hugh! Such kind words. OK, I’m in it–even at just 20 minutes a day right now. I’m doing it. You are a great friend my friend.