Jenn Box | 4/29/2010
When I was a young girl, I lived on a tree farm with my grandparents. The farm was wooded with rolling hills. When my brothers and I sat out on the back porch each evening after playing on the farm all day, we would stare out at a lone hill - it was the furthest thing our young eyes could see. On top of that hill sat three trees. We always wondered how long it would take to hike out to them.
One morning, we decided to give it a try. We got up at dawn, packed some snacks and lunches, had breakfast and then set off for the trees. We had to cross tilled fields, briar patches, streams and an old logging road. Finally, we reached the top of the hill. What amazed us was that the trees were in the very center of rows upon rows of corn. From the trees, all you could see were stalks in every direction. We sat there under the trees and ate our snacks. From that spot, we could stand on our tiptoes and look back and see our tiny house in the distance.
We learned later that when the farmer was planting his field and reached the three trees, he didn't have the heart to cut them down, so he left them there. And reaching them became our great adventure, our amazing journey, our Mount Everest.