The Mighty Cottonwood
There is nothing quite like a tree. I love the sight and smells of all flowering trees, but especially the pink crabapple trees that bloom so beautifully most springs--except, sadly, not for this year's too-cold spring. The majestic oak trees, with their acorns, have always fascinated me, and the vibrant, orange, sugar maples in Michigan are without comparison in the fall. But here in Nebraska, nothing can compare to our state tree, the mighty Cottonwood. One of many Cottonwoods at Scottsbluff's Riverside Park. I'm not talking about the newer, cottonless, ornamental trees, erroneously called Cottonwoods in spite of their relatively wimpy appearance and inherent lack of cotton. The trees I love the most are decades old, or even a century or more in age, stretching their branches heavenward, with trunks that can only be encircled by several people clasping hands around a tree. Shimmering leaves. The shade of a magnificent Cottonwood provides a refreshingly cool sanctuary on ...