Friend or Foe

Friend or Foe?

Exactly how does a home, once it turns back into a house, stay strong enough to still be standing long enough for a tree to grow through its ceiling? Is it happy for the tree’s company? Is the tree pulling it down, or holding it up? Is the cabin pulling the tree down?

“You would think it would be enough that those kids came wandering through here in the middle of the night and fell through my floor. What were they thinking wandering around in here with nothing but moonlight to guide them. Thank goodness it was a full moon or who knows what might have happened,” House grumbled. "Now I have a hole in my floor and…Squirrel! Can you please stop storing your nuts and seeds in my floorboards? Why are you trying to fill it with nuts?” The squirrel startled at the harsh voice and then ran back into a nearby tree to gather more. The house sighed, creaking as it did so. "Foe, definitely foe."

Not all of the nuts sprouted, but three or four did; some flower seeds too. “I have a dang bouquet sprouting from my bottom,” the house complained. “Well at least something looks nice around here. Guess I shouldn’t complain."

“Hello down there,” he says from the rafters, “Are you friend or foe?” He chuckled to himself.

The house quivered when a child-like voice answered. “I think I’m a friend. At least, I want to be a friend. But, it gets mighty dark in here. Sometimes I’m afraid and I get lonely.”

“Hey little fella. No reason to be afraid,” the house replied. “See that window over there, right behind you? Well it used to be a window. Now it's more of a broken pane of dirty glass. But I’m getting off track. A sunbeam comes to visit nearly every day. More through the break than the grimy pane, but see the little dust devils swirling? It almost lands right on you. I think if you stretch a  little bit you could reach it.”

“Uuuhhh! I can’t quite reach,” relied the little hickory sprout. “Not a problem for us,” came a chorus of boastful voices. “See how we stretch our long, slender stems into the swirling light? Some might even call us graceful the way we sway. The sunlight is so warm too. It is a tad cold here with the wind sweeping through that hole by the front door, House. Oh and we’re, Daisy. Some would say we’re wild Daisy,” the boast continued. The voice seemed to come from a bunch of spindly white blossoms sitting just south of Sprout.

“Nice to meet you, Daisy,” grumbled House, “try not to crack my floor boards anymore than you already have.”

A couple years went by and Daisy didn’t seem to grow much. They went away for quite a while when it got cold but had always come back when the sun shone through the window again and the floorboards began to warm. Then one year they just didn’t come back. "Do you suppose they moved?” Hickory, who now preferred to be called Hick, asked House. “I suppose they did,” House replied. “Or maybe they went to live with that young lady who was wandering around here last summer. Remember, she plucked them off right in the middle of their stems and took them with her when she was done exploring. Maybe they stayed.”

"Well I know there is something kind of slimy down there now and something that tickles,” came Hick’s reply. “But they are kind of cool looking too. Don’t talk much. Maybe they sleep a lot. Two of my branches are leaning out the window now. There really isn’t much light in here anymore. Just that little bit of sun up high.”

That’s my roof you are talking about, boy,” House huffed. “Shingles blew off last fall and now the rain has started dripping through making the hole bigger and bigger. Gives me a headache just thinking about it.”

“Don’t call me a boy,” came the angry answer. “I’m almost tall enough to touch that hole. I’m not a baby anymore. I’m growing more every day and I’m going places and up through there is my first stop. Someday I’ll bust right through that hole”

“Friend or foe, Hick? Friend or foe?.” House commented resignedly.

House was getting really old now. Very tattered and worn. Slats had fallen off his sides and someone had stolen his door. The frame no longer sat firm and straight. In fact House really didn’t think he would see Old Harvey again. His caretaker had been gone many seasons now. When Old Harvey had been here, things might have been dusty but there was no lack of laughter in House, who was then known as Home. He remembered Old Harvey playing the banjo but really missed the fiddle. Turkey in the Straw had been Home’s favorite, but Salty Dog and The Wabash Cannonball had been really good too. Home loved when the fiddle made the train whistle sound.

The grandchildren had giggled and jumped on the old iron bed, when they visited, making it squeak so much that they giggled some more. A couple of mouse families live there now. House was not sure if they were building a home or just tearing things apart. He didn’t ever ask, because he really didn’t want to know.

“Hey, why so quiet? A new voice asked.

“Who’s that?” asked Hick. “House, something is tickling my trunk again.”

“Calm down. Now that you think you’re grown you shouldn’t be upset by a little tickling.” 

“I’m Fern,” came a very feminine voice. I love it here in the shade of your branches, Mr. Hick.” My other friends love it too, but they don’t talk much. Morrie, say hello. 

“I don‘t have time to talk.” a husky voice came that was also obviously female. “I’m busy eating. These roots are delicious.”

“Stop that,” Hick shouted. “I am not for eating. Foe, House! Foe! Kick them out!”.

“You know I can’t stop anyone from living here, Hick.. Just like you stretch your branches to the roof and window, these little ladies thrive in the darkness of that shade. But, Morrie, if you could eat on the floor instead of on Hick it would be much appreciated. My floors are made of pine. Surely you would like that better.

“Ummm…no…pine tastes like, well it doesn’t taste good. I’m fine right here.” 

“Well they are small and wrinkly, Hick, perhaps they won’t stay long.”

“Easy for you to say, House, they aren’t tearing you to pieces,” Hick replies dramatically.

House replies, “may I remind you all where you live.” Hick looks around questioningly, but Fern nods her fronds. “Yeah, Hick, we live in House. And none of us even asked. In fact, I’m not even sure how I got here.” A faint chittering of squirrels was the closest thing to a reply any of them got.

Still the years passed. House was quite old and bent now. Sir Hickory, for he never grew out of the dramatic, was quite the opposite. He had grown tall and strong, if a bit twisted. “House, he announced. You should look at the view from up here.” 

“I am the view from up there,” grumbled House. “Just look down.”

“No, no, House. I mean up here. Look up.” House turned his gaze up. Leaves. Leaned a bit to the North. Leaves and blue. He hadn’t seen blue in a while. Just then a harsh wind blew through from the South. House heard a large crack and his top shifted significantly. Was he falling? “Sir Hickory, help!” he shouted. “I’m falling.” House swayed precariously.

“Hold on,” Sir Hickory rumbled, steadying House and resting his rafters in his limbs. “Friend, House. Always your friend.”