As we sat on the patio this afternoon, the Idaho breeze was getting pretty strong. Our neighbors have a cottonwood tree in their yard that was planted in the late 1800s. It is a giant. It is so tall that even when the trees in our yard are still, there is a wind current that stirs the top branches. When the turkey buzzards are migrating, they like to linger, just enjoying riding the currents as they circle above the tree. The eagles and hawks do the same, so we sometimes have quite a show.
There is nothing to compare with the sound of the wind in the the big cottonwood tree leaves - I suppose the pleasant associations date back to childhood and warm summer nights when we would go to sleep with the windows open, and could hear the sound of the breeze in the cottonwoods over at "Emmy's", about 1/2 a block away, along with the sound of the river, even farther. Those cottonwoods are all gone now, and the river has been decimated to a comparatively small trickle, as more and more water upstream has been diverted for irrigation purposes.
One summer, either in the late 1940's or the early '50's, Steve was on his way to the mail box, and a terrific wind burst came up. As I recall, Dwight ran to get Steve, and he was all right. However, one of the giant (to us) cottonwood trees blew over, and we had fun climbing and playing with the now horizontal tree. I'm sorry to leave Judy's picture out, because somewhere I have a picture of her with her jubilant smie, sitting on the upper big part of the trunk, swinging her heels. All I've found so far are these two of Ann and Steve, still looking pretty pleased with themselves for having climbed such a huge tree.