Circle of the Seasons

By GCleare

Over Two Hundred Years

The original part of our farmhouse was built in 1760. A row of huge old maple trees started here, next to the house, and led back along the farm road into the woods to the upper pasture. It used to be the road to the next village, back in the 18th century. At one point, it was lined with trees. Now there are only three left standing, and two of them have been pared down by windstorms so only a few branches remain. The one that survives more or less intact is here, in my Red Carpet blip.

The maple outside my office window was home to many generations of squirrels. It was fun to waste time watching them scampering up and down the broad trunk. When one big limb fell on the rooftop, it came right through the attic and broke the upstairs ceiling. When the rest of it came down in a storm a few years later the whole building shook! Luckily it missed the house that time.

We went out to clean up and found out it was nearly hollow at that point, with a magnificent nest inside. How they must miss their home! I know I do.

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