Pepper Trees

Pepper Trees

Long avenues of pepper trees lined the country roads in Southern California when I was a child. Warm Sundays in summer were times when our family took long drives in the car along these roads to reach a picnic destination, sometimes to the local mountains, desert, or regional park.

The sun often grew hotter as we drove inland farther and farther away from the coast. The one or two-lane curbless asphalt road radiated heat and shimmering illusions of rippling water in the distance.  We passed through acres and acres of fragrant orange groves on our way.

The pepper trees with their graceful, soft shapes, branches drooping almost to the ground and rough, gnarled trunks and branches shaded the road on either side. Where they met overhead a green tunnel provided cool relief as we passed underneath.

The journey was as much a part of the day as the arrival.

The pepper tree in my grandparents’ back yard was a different kind; tall and old with thick branches suitable for climbing if you could make it up the trunk to where they began maybe ten feet or so above the ground. I was not up to the task, but my two younger brothers and our cousins were. The tree’s little pink berries rained down and carpeted the grass, and us, as the climbers shook the branches.

Every Fourth of July saw my entire family gathered at a long table under that tree in the late afternoon, sharing my grandmother’s excellent cooking (she had been a farm wife) and dishes they had contributed to the summer feast. Cold gelled salads, potato salad and cole slaw, watermelon, corn on the cob, fruit pies and home made ice cream and grandma’s wonderful Parker House yeast rolls with real butter.

The kids could hardly wait until it got dark and we could set off the fireworks.

It makes me happy to see pepper trees here and there and I always take notice of them. They are like faithful old friends that speak of cool shade, the heat of the sun, the tranquility of a quieter time, the safety and closeness of a family.