Daytripping Sept-Oct 2020 Issue

Most of the articles you’ll read in these pages have been written by readers like you.
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The Old Elm Tree
There was a tree that excelled beyond
all others on the farm where I grew up. It
stood outside the hedge that surrounded
the garden and the old farm home. It
was an elm, proudly stretching its one
hundred feet of maturity above all the
other trees in the farming community.
The elm’s growth was unparalleled
by the old maples marching in a row
along the fence line, across the road.
As a youngster, I would climb upon the
fence and hoist myself up into the leafy
seclusion of the maples, but the elm was
as unattainable as my thoughts of ever
climbing it. The rough, greyish-brown
trunk of the elm stretched branchless,
skyward, from its broad reaching rooted
level, spreading vast limbs some twenty
feet above ground.
Through harsh winter storms the
elm creaked and groaned. The elm, as
all trees, suffered greatly when an ice
storm hit the area.
Limbs would crack
and break, falling
with the weight of
the ice build up,
plummeting to pile
scattered on the
earth, or leaving
the splintered and
hanging limb precariously balanced
on the remaining branches. Every
spring with the nourishing drops of
rain it sprouted green leaf buds, and as
the sun warmed the new growth, the
heavily veined toothed leaves unfurled
toward the heavens, filling in the gap
of lost limbs with abundant foliage
while creating a canopy of shade for the
ground below. We falsely assumed that
the greatest threat to the elm would be
lightning. Due to the fact that lightning
usually struck the tallest obstacle, in its
zig zagging path of destruction, the elm
would be a direct hit. I don’t ever recall
the elm being struck, however the lone
fir tree that towered beside the house
was decapitated in a violent thunder
storm one summer evening. It was my
father’s habit to awaken and keep watch
over the homestead during extreme
electrical blasts and in the morning, as
we gathered around the top six foot of
the fir lying upon the ground, it’s pine
cones still intact, he related how the hair
stood up on his neck as he watched from
his bedroom window as the great
flash of lightning burned
into the tree’s towering
top. We all gazed
up in amazement
at the beheaded
fir, resuming its
stately existence
beside the stone
house, albeit a little
off balance. My sister
brought our focus
back to the tree top lying
spent upon the ground, when she
exclaimed that it was
a shame Christmas
was too far away to use the top
By Laurie BurrowsBreakey, Southampton
As the seasons marched on
through the years, the elm
withstood all that ‘mother
nature’ bestowed upon it.
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as our Christmas tree.
I imagine the elm tree waving its
rain soaked leaves in great relief after
each battering of the elements left it
unscathed. Perhaps it was a bit too smug.
Spring brought to life a goose berry
shrub that grew at the base of the elm.
In June, Mother would beckon me with
pail in hand, to help her pick the berries
before they became too ripe. There was
only one goose berry shrub, so it was
slim pickins’, but the few jars of jam
and jellies that where preserved from its
scant offering were delectable.
Long and hot the summers ruled the
land creating growth in all things. The
elm had become a family symbol. Tall,
majestic, strong and seemingly very
healthy, it continued on, turning its leaves
of rich green to golden yellow when the
days became short and autumn brought
nights of cold temperatures. Golden
leaves cascaded to
the ground, turning
brown and crisp,
swirling in the
fall breeze. As the
seasons marched on
through the years,
the elm withstood all
that ‘mother nature’
bestowed upon it.
Dutch elm disease hit our eastern
shores sometime during World War II.
We learned at school about the terrible
disease that would devastate our forests,
killing our giant elms as the sac fungi
was spread by the elm bark beetle. My
father remained proudly protective of
our family elm, claiming its strength
would overcome the disease, and he
would point it out to anyone that was
interested as to how tall and strong
it was. Dutch elm disease was only
beginning in Canada, and it worked its
way from the east and upward from the
south, claiming the lofty elms growing in
its path. By 1967 it was hugely evident
in Ontario.
My father died in 1969, the farm was
sold, all my siblings and myself had
moved on to lives of our own. I returned
as we all do, to the old homestead for
a brush with my past in 1970 and as I
drove up the old road, scanning the
horizon for the familiar landmark, stark
reality settled over me. I stopped my car
and tears filled my eyes and my
heart as I looked upward into
the leafless elm that had
finally succumbed to the
Dutch elm disease.
Today as I travel the
southern Ontario
roads, I find great
satisfaction in being
able to still see the
elm trees stretching
skyward. There may not
be as many of them, but
at least the few remaining
ones soldier on and I think my
father would be very happy
indeed, to hear of their survival.
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43 GRAND RIVER STREET
NORTH,
PARIS
Staff f
from left to right...
Mark Moran,
Rhonda Long,
Carrie Ann Timm,
Angela Lyon,
& Laurie Dunlop.
Carla Mejia absent
AN OLD FASHIONED DRY GOODS STORE
IN BUSINESS FOR OVER 150 YEARS
FIND US ON FACEBOOK
519-442-4242 www.johnmhall.ca
Your Daytripping ping
Staff...
...on a daytrip to Paris, stopping for lunch at Camp 31 in Paris
Robert Hall Originals
Pewter Studio • Rock Shop • Jewellery Showroom
• Fine Pewter • Jewellery
• Home Decor • Rock Tumblers
Ontario’s Largest Pewter
Studio & Rock Shop!
138 Sugar Maple Road, St. George, ON 1-800-360-2813
OPEN ALL YEAR:
Tuesday-Friday 10-5, Saturday 10 to 4:30
www.roberthalloriginals.com
Large Selection of
duck down duvets
and wool blankets for
Fall and Winter.
Visit our 2600 sq. ft.
Indoor Showroom!
Masks required for indoor showroom
WASHROOM FACILITIES AVAILABLE
Bus Tours & Group
Tours Welcome!
Sept-Oct 2020 “A year from now you will wish you had started today.” - Karen Lamb
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