Ever since A Tree Fell in Madison I haven’t been able to get a wink of sleep during a thunderstorm.
Terror strikes with every flash of lightning; I convince myself another tree is falling and falling right on my dear child’s bed.
I bring Arlo to our bed upon the second or third strike and then we all have a restless, awful, wakeful night — but if we go down, we go down together.
We finally hired an Arborist to review the property and identify anything rotten and too close to the house, and then cut it down. Turns out we didn’t need much; we had a large oak leaning too far over the roof and other minor hazards, but we are all sleeping better now that it’s done.
One thing I learned from Eon (Note: if you name your child Eon and raise him in Madison, Wisconsin, chances are he will become an Arborist), is that the smaller maple outside Arlo’s window is a Silver Maple, is in great shape and should be cared for and cherished. Now that it’s autumn, I see what Eon means.
When you walk into Arlo’s room these days you are greeted with a bag of cloth diapers that need to be washed and a brilliant burst of gold, orange and red.
Despite the cold winters, the difficulty of changing the sheets and the questionable security, I purposely placed Arlo’s bed against a wall of windows. He wakes and sleeps and dreams in the trees. He gets a full heart and an eyeful of nature.
If you name your child Arlo, raise him in a Tree House in Madison, Wisconsin, will he grow up to be an Arborist? I couldn’t hope for more.