This week my daughter took me on a trip to the north shore of Ohio. We were
going to visit an ill relative but my dd wanted to visit Ashtabula. She was
born there and had memories of helping her dad plant a willow tree. We found
the house and the owners happened to come out to their car and were happy to
talk with us. The tree was gone.
Sometime in the middle 60s I picked up a switch that the neighbors had cut off
their willow. I stuck it in the clay between the back of the house and the
sidewalk. When we saw it had rooted, Beth and her dad took it way out to the
back of our yard (probably 70 ft. at least) where we had a soggy spot and
planted it. It grew to be magnificent. A place for kids to play and hide.
The owners told us it reached the sewers in the 90s and had to be destroyed.
We all knew that willows have roots that search for water but it was kind of
Marilyn in Ohio