On the top of a not too distant hill stands a tree. All by itself. How did that happen. Were there other trees a long time ago? If there were, what happened to them? If that tree always did stand alone, how did it get so tall, all alone?
Even as youngsters the girls would walk up the hill and make up stories about their tree. The storm that blew down the other trees had a different saga each time they told it.
Then there was the tale of early settlers who planted one tree to be seen by all sides. It announced they were finally home. Fields on each side look up to the statement of ownership, the tree.
Funny, none of the town people could recall a time before the tree. They had handed down details of every street and even the lakes. But the tree had no tale. Well, no tale according to the people of Higgins Valley.
However, the tree was not unimportant. Decades later, the girls, now in their fifties, still treasured their childhood friend. Recanting stories, pretending adventures, or just spending a warm summer day, the tree would always be their childhood friend.
It makes one wonder what additional memories are yet to be savored by generations to come. . . in Higgins Valley.