This is my favorite tree. It's a huge catalpa, over 100 years old. It gaces the landscape of my grandparents' farm. The tree is always present in my memories of spending time with my grandparents. I am fortunate in that my grandparents were just a field away (well, about 20 acres) growing up. I spent lots of time with them, and I'm certain they've influenced my life.
When the tree would bloom in the spring, I remember picking the delicate and fragrant blossoms from its branches. In the summer, I would pick green beans with Grandma. I'd get too hot and sit under the shade of the tree. When the my sister was big enough to play, I would push her in the tire swing that hung on one of the branches. I remember escaping to this tree to be alone and to daydream in my own vivid fantasy (ususally, I was an Indian princess).
This tree reminds me of of my grandparents. It is old and wrinkly, and beautiful. It provides shelter for animals and humans, and it gently dispenses wisdom. It may be more brittle than it used to be, but it is still powerful.