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Rated: E · Short Story · Nature · #2280049
About a tree and how it lived,

Standing here I feel like a giant. I can see so far from up here. I remember the first day this place became my home. I was just a small bundle all wrapped up in a cloth blanket. The family who adopted me had large yard that had beautiful flowers and shrubs. They placed me by the front gate in a big hole and now ten years later here I stand fifteen-foot pine tree. I have had some good times with my friends here. I can recall every season.

In the harshness of winter, I became a Christmas tree all covered in the first snowfall. The neighbors would all gather round and decorate my branches. They strung lights and tinsel and Christmas bulbs. Afterward they would gather round me and drink cocoa and sing carols. When the lights were turned on, I lit up the whole neighborhood. Christmas was the best part of wintertime.

Springtime I always got my branches trimmed. It felt good to shed the withered pine needles from winter. The birds found my branches to be the best for nest building. They told me my pine needles worked great for keeping unwanted visitors away from their babies. I enjoyed the birds being there. The sound of the baby birds was a sweet melody to me and often lulled me to sleep. My owners would hang bird feeders all over me, so the birds and their babies had plenty to eat. They placed a large stone birdbath beneath me and when the birds took a bath I would get splashed by the water. It was a wonderful time for all.

When summer came along, I was the best shade in the yard. Often people would stop by to visit, and we would have a picnic on the ground beneath my branches. Butterflies would come and dance all around me. The smell of honeysuckle would fill the air. The cat next door tried all summer to get in my branches, but he always failed. The summer nights brought out the fireflies and they would fly among my branches and the children would try to catch them.

I think fall was my favorite time of year. The trees in the neighborhood would turn all shades of colors. It was as if someone took a paintbrush and painted them all. Fall was a little sad though, because I could never change color. I wanted so much to look like the others, but alas, I couldn't. The other trees always said they wished they could be like me, because soon they would lose their leaves and get cold.

Now here it is winter again and the ice storm we had two weeks ago has left me bent and broken. I have grown very weary from bending over and think perhaps this is to be my last winter. My branches are turning brown, and my needles are falling off. I will never see another Christmas. Never again hear the sweet music of my friends the birds or enjoy the butterflies as they frolic among my branches. I will surely miss this place and those I have grown to love. As the blade of the chainsaw touches my branches, they fall one by one. Slowly I fall to the ground and at last I can have a peaceful rest.
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