Willow

willow birdhouse watercolour

The place where my family vacationed when I was a child is the place where I now live. I remember being amazed by the mountains and tall fir and pine tress with their wonderful scent, but I had seen those before. This is the first place where I remember seeing a weeping willow tree. They don’t grow on the prairies in Canada.

One hot July day, many years ago, while Mom fried potatoes and bacon on the little green Coleman camp stove, and Dad set up the tent, I cooled my feet in the brook that runs through the campground in the center of town. I watched the breeze play with the long trailing branches of the willow trees. They dripped down to the earth like luxuriant overflowing green fountains. On a hot day their shade was satisfying to my soul. I remember declaring out loud, “Someday I am going to live here.”

And now I do.

And I still love weeping willow trees. They remind me of the goodness of God.

 

For I will pour water on him who is thirsty,
And floods on the dry ground;
I will pour My Spirit on your descendants,
And My blessing on your offspring;
They will spring up among the grass
Like willows by the watercourses.

(Isaiah 44:3,4)

2 thoughts on “Willow

  1. I grew up in Washington State (and still live in Washington State, just a different city) and our backyard had a huge weeping willow tree. It was one of my best friends. Oh, how I played and found solace at times in its tent of shady coolness. Thanks for the memory, Charis. Weeping willows are so lovely…

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    1. Often our family would camp here on the first leg of a trip that took us to Couer d’Alene or Priest Lake and then to Spokane to go shopping for school clothes in a big American city. I remember the willows there as well -and the heat! But that’s what made the coolness so luscious -that and American red, white and blue popsicles. Good times. Praying you have many more good memories to make.

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