July 26, 2011
At the House on the Hill, I loved climbing the oak tree out front. There was one branch that I could grab and use to swing myself up, grab with my legs and pull myself up. Once I was off the ground, I would climb as high as I could go without the tree limbs bending beneath me. Our property was about twenty feet higher than the road; from the tree I would watch the houses across the street and traffic cresting over the hill just east of our property before beginning the long downhill stretch to the corner.