Once upon a time [in 1996], a dreamer [uninformed gardener] traded in some magic beans [hard-earned dollars] for eight baby walnut trees. The babies had been raised in a loving nursery [shady tree farm- pun intended], and announced to the world as healthy infants [advertised as fast-growing foot-high trees].
The dreamer [increasingly skeptical gardener] received her bundles of joy [plastic bag of dead-looking twigs] by special birth delivery [US mail], and promptly set about creating an environment that would please the babies [dug a row of holes along the railroad tracks and put them in].
Then she waited. The little trees burst forth with [got a few] leaves. The first winter, the little trees thoughtfully helped the wildlife flourish [were eaten by the deer- aren't walnut trees supposed to taste bad?]. Come spring, the babies developed a shy streak [were now only 3 inches tall and completely hidden in the grass.] The dreamer [disillusioned shopper] became involved in other pursuits and left the youngsters to learn and grow [figured they were dead and forgot about them].
Skipping ahead [let's condense this a bit], after a time of seasons [maybe in 2005] our heroine [ok, it's me] went hunting for the eight little trees. Lo! Here was a mystery [this was freaky]! Six of them had miraculously survived, but two had tired of living by the tracks and had moved closer to the path [what the heck? trees don't walk, do they?].
Then she remembered! After first tucking the babies into their bassinets [sticking 'em in their holes], she had sprinkled the leftover fairy dust [dirt] around their new home [in the general area rather than dragging home a plastic bag full of grunge]. Despite the continued thoughtfulness of the trees toward the wildlife [being trimmed by the deer every single doggoned winter], after yet more moons and suns [last year], the little trees began to fulfill their destiny [you could see them above the grass].
But, alas, the little trees, although sturdy [4 survivors of the original twigs and two sprouts from roots that weren't even planted], have never lived up to the promise of being fast-growing [they're about 15 inches tall in full leaf]. But life is good [what the heck, I changed my mind]. The dreamer now likes to watch the chuffing blue monsters [trains], so all is well. The little trees are content [these six seem to be hangin' in there], and have chosen not to block the view [aren't in danger of hiding any trains in my lifetime].
|See Report on the Baby White Pines|