I realized today what this property is lacking.  Pine trees.

Growing up in New York, right up in the corner next to Canada and Vermont, we had lots of pine trees.  They grew well in the sandy soil, and soared over our house.  I’d get exercise twice – once from climbing the nicely-spaced limbs, and once from washing the pine tar off my hands.  (It hadn’t occurred to me until just now that my Mom must have dealt with tons of pine tar on my jeans.)

I am in a position where I could use some pine trees.  I want to exercise more, and I could use some of the built-in belly-tightening attributes of tree climbing.  I’d be willing to dedicate a pair of jeans to be sapified.  I’d enjoy building a treehouse or attaching a hammock, but I don’t think those are in the near future.  I just want a tree to climb.

We have some cedar-type trees, but they are scrawny and bushy.  Not a lot of space to move among the branches.  An evergreen, in and of itself, does not make a pine tree.

All the other trees around here are deciduous, and grow in an upright and branchless way that makes them eminently non-climbable.  I want a tree with branches, spaced well enough to stretch me but not to make me use a ladder to start off.

And no, I don’t think I’m trying to recreate my childhood.  I’m trying to locate something that I know works.

Please don’t ask me about the bicycle in the shed, the one with flat tires.  That’s different.  Somehow.