That’s a weeping willow. It was always in my top three favorite trees. The Japanese Maple and the Bonsai are interchangeable for numbers one and two. My mother was obsessed with Asian design. I grew up in a relatively big corner house for our neighborhood, surrounded by rock gardens. My parents laid down rolls of black plastic to keep the weeds from poking through the tons of dark red pebbles and pagoda statues. There were some white pebbles that wove through the rockscape to look like a flowing river. We would play Barbies and GI Joes (when GI Joe was still 12 inches tall with Kung Fu grip and a lever for eagle eye movements) for hours. Or at least until the rocks left painful imprints on our butts. Most kids played in grass. Our imaginations thrived in that rocky terrain.
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