THE LASH HORN PINE

The phone rang, blasting me out of my recliner and back into the real world!

It was my brother, Larry. He had a sadness in his voice as he informed me, "Brother, I hate to tell you this, but the old lash horn pine tree blew over in a storm the other night." It was like hearing of a death in the family……….and in a way it was.

Larry was referring to the tree that stood beside our Blue Ridge mountain home for as long as we both could remember. It was the last remaining vestige of a place dear to our hearts. Bulldozers, chain saws and the ravages of old Mother Nature had taken their toll. The house, the buildings and the landscape itself had gradually slipped into the past in this ever changing world.

I really don’t know how old that tree was. It was there when I was born and for seventy years had stood as a symbol of my origin. The tree stayed the same size and had not grown one inch in these many long years. It had remained vigilant and unchanged in good times and in bad times, in war and in peace. Where so ever I strayed, when I thought of home, the vision of that old tree was the first image to appear in my mind!

I really thought that old lash horn pine tree would live forever.

It fell and I wept!

Some memories of a long lost past
Remain both true and clear.
Like relics in an old shoe box
Of things that we hold dear.
The lonesome wail of a distant train
Made my eyes light up and shine
While sitting on a special limb
Of that big old lash horn pine!

The tree that stood beside our house
And a special place to me;
A highway for a toy truck
Was built around that tree.
It umpired a lot of marble games;
It was a pleasant place to dine
On a biscuit filled with fried fatback
‘Neath that big old lash horn pine!

I figured out the reason why
That tree had stood so long.
It got a lot of salty fluids
That made it big and strong.
On those quiet and snowy mornings
Was it your name or mine?
In those yellow lines of snow holes
‘Neath that old big lash horn pine,

I used to lay a quivering
In the bedroom by that tree.
I could hear them ghosts a coming,
A coming after me!
For a knife that I had stolen
And claimed that it was mine.
They sifted in, with the howling wind
Through that old big lash horn pine!

Many years have come and gone
Since I last saw this species
That stood beside a house now gone
Just guarding memories,
Of family and those things held dear
That I call yours and mine

With Christmas time approaching
I feel these things draw near,
And wish that we could visit
With the ones we hold so dear.
We’d decorate that old big tree,
Then celebrate and dine
On goodies baked from yesteryear,
‘Neath that old big lash horn pine!