The Lone Oak

While growing up the Lone Oak was part of our lexicon.  It is the only oak tree on our property (hence the name).  And it was the location of much of our outdoor play time.  Well, we never really played inside.  During summer we were outside shoe-less from the moment we woke up until dark.  Over twenty years ago my dad drew the picture above, which shows all of the places we explored during the day, and all of his handy work.

The girls recently discovered the Lone Oak and now they cannot visit my dads without going to say hello to the oak tree.  It is the coolest tree.  It appears to have slid down the hill when it was young and grew on its side, its gnarled roots finding stability grasping onto the side of the hill.  

I haven't been out here in years.  The branches are much greener than they used to be, filled with moss and lichen.  

My dad built this bridge for us when we were the girl's age, so we could play at the Lone Oak after a rainstorm (otherwise there is a stream that cuts off the path to the Lone Oak).

We took the long way back to the house.  When my parents made a living selling avocados it used to be lot more green but you get the idea.

During the walk my dad made a comment about how poor we were growing up.  Marla told my dad that it never felt like we were poor.  He replied by saying it was all he could ever think about.  

"The difference between rich and poor is that the poor do everything with their own hands and the rich hire hands to do things."  My parent's vision and hard work gave us the best childhood anyone can ask for.  My mom made fresh bread and granola.  I didn't know it was because we were poor.  I thought it was because it was delicious.

I suppose the only sign of being poor would be not having money, one thing that children just don't think about.