The ancient magnolia stood proudly on the top of the hill, tall and majestic. It's uppermost boughs swayed over one hundred feet above the whispering grass, by one young lad's guess.
I came here often, mostly because of the hill, which was more like a cliff. The gently sloping mound rose slowly to its summit some thirty feet above small North Carolina town I callled home. Where the downward slope leading into the town should begin, there was only a sheer drop. The grassy overhang was always a favorite hang out of mine, and just about every other young boy or girl my age.
I approached the overhang, peering over the grassy lip. I sat myself down at the ledge and swung my legs over the solid turf cliff. The view was... okay. The hill provided a good vantage point over the entire town, which is hardly entertaining, at best. It was enjoyable, however, to sit with my leg's hanging out over the cliff, feeling as though I had successfully climbed a mountian. I was on top of the world; my world. True, this world of mine was very small, and flat, but it was my world, and I was on top of it. I was on top of my world, and could not possibly go any higher.
Then I remembered the whopping hundred foot tree behind me. I sprang to my feet and spun around to face the magnolia. Of course! Why had I never climbed it before? Then, as I cast my eyes upon it, I remembered also the reason why not.
No one had ever done it before, not for as long as I had known the huge magnolia. Many had tried, but just as many had failed. John A. had tried to last year, but came away from the experience with bloodied fingers and a broken wrist when he fell back to earth. I could see why; the massive trunk shot straight from the ground, and did not split or bend until maybe ten or twelve feet. I cast my now despondent gaze upwards, staring at the barren stretch of bark between myself and where the twin trunks broke from each other.
It was hopless, of course. There was no way that I could climb far enough to reach that split. This defeat that I suffered before I had even started was made all the more painful by the fact that beyond the two trunks, it appeared to be impossibly smooth sailing. Despite the fact that I was badly altitudinally challenged, I decided to give it my best shot.
I circled the magnolia a few times, trying to find a good handhold in the bark. After finding one, I leaped up as high as I could, running up the tree like they do in those crappy action movies. Well, that was the plan, anyway. It worked, so I was thankful for that, but sure was I glad there was no one else around! Turns out it's a lot tougher than they make it seem in the movies.
I held on to that little knot in the tree with all my strenghth for long enough to get my feet under me. Looking up, I realized that I was already halfway to where the trunks split. That first leap had been mostly luck and quick reflexes, and I wasn't sure I could do it again without solid ground to jump from. That didn't stop me from trying, though. I braced myself against the tree, readying myself for the spring.
What followed, I can hardly remember. What I do know, however, is that it was far from graceful, yet still a sight to see. I suppose that the only way that I could have done it would have required some squirrel-like scurrying. Next thing I knew, I was nestled safely between the two trunks. I had made it! I had made it. What was even better was that I was the only human in recorded history to have made it.
The rest of the eighty-or-so-foot climb was, as I had suspected, impossibly smooth sailing. In maybe another quarter of an hour, I was perched on the highest stable branch, looking out over my small world. I gazed out over the corn and tobacco fields that surrounded my small world, and knew that nothing could beat me now. I saw many tall trees that from any other height would seem immence, and I knew that in defeating this one, I had defeated them all.
On the way down from my lofty seat, I fell and broke my wrist.
I came here often, mostly because of the hill, which was more like a cliff. The gently sloping mound rose slowly to its summit some thirty feet above small North Carolina town I callled home. Where the downward slope leading into the town should begin, there was only a sheer drop. The grassy overhang was always a favorite hang out of mine, and just about every other young boy or girl my age.
I approached the overhang, peering over the grassy lip. I sat myself down at the ledge and swung my legs over the solid turf cliff. The view was... okay. The hill provided a good vantage point over the entire town, which is hardly entertaining, at best. It was enjoyable, however, to sit with my leg's hanging out over the cliff, feeling as though I had successfully climbed a mountian. I was on top of the world; my world. True, this world of mine was very small, and flat, but it was my world, and I was on top of it. I was on top of my world, and could not possibly go any higher.
Then I remembered the whopping hundred foot tree behind me. I sprang to my feet and spun around to face the magnolia. Of course! Why had I never climbed it before? Then, as I cast my eyes upon it, I remembered also the reason why not.
No one had ever done it before, not for as long as I had known the huge magnolia. Many had tried, but just as many had failed. John A. had tried to last year, but came away from the experience with bloodied fingers and a broken wrist when he fell back to earth. I could see why; the massive trunk shot straight from the ground, and did not split or bend until maybe ten or twelve feet. I cast my now despondent gaze upwards, staring at the barren stretch of bark between myself and where the twin trunks broke from each other.
It was hopless, of course. There was no way that I could climb far enough to reach that split. This defeat that I suffered before I had even started was made all the more painful by the fact that beyond the two trunks, it appeared to be impossibly smooth sailing. Despite the fact that I was badly altitudinally challenged, I decided to give it my best shot.
I circled the magnolia a few times, trying to find a good handhold in the bark. After finding one, I leaped up as high as I could, running up the tree like they do in those crappy action movies. Well, that was the plan, anyway. It worked, so I was thankful for that, but sure was I glad there was no one else around! Turns out it's a lot tougher than they make it seem in the movies.
I held on to that little knot in the tree with all my strenghth for long enough to get my feet under me. Looking up, I realized that I was already halfway to where the trunks split. That first leap had been mostly luck and quick reflexes, and I wasn't sure I could do it again without solid ground to jump from. That didn't stop me from trying, though. I braced myself against the tree, readying myself for the spring.
What followed, I can hardly remember. What I do know, however, is that it was far from graceful, yet still a sight to see. I suppose that the only way that I could have done it would have required some squirrel-like scurrying. Next thing I knew, I was nestled safely between the two trunks. I had made it! I had made it. What was even better was that I was the only human in recorded history to have made it.
The rest of the eighty-or-so-foot climb was, as I had suspected, impossibly smooth sailing. In maybe another quarter of an hour, I was perched on the highest stable branch, looking out over my small world. I gazed out over the corn and tobacco fields that surrounded my small world, and knew that nothing could beat me now. I saw many tall trees that from any other height would seem immence, and I knew that in defeating this one, I had defeated them all.
On the way down from my lofty seat, I fell and broke my wrist.
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