It was a fine spruce when my great grandparents lived here. I never met them but they were the ones who build the small house and made this place their modest home.

It was not much but it was a home. Like the spruce the house is still there. Existing even they are long gone.

It would have been nice to know them. I have only heard some stories of them. Mainly stories about what happened during the civil war which was the great tragedy of their time and changed their world permanently.

My grandmother and her husband continued to live in the same house. The spruce continued its growth and became larger and larger.

The World Wars went by but the place stayed about the same. Originally the spruce was on governments land but after the war was lost there were many people that needed to be relocated. We got our new neighbors and the spruce got new owners. Nice people who build their own house and made it their new home. They all are now long gone.

My parents worked in the city but when it came the time to retire they build a new house next to the old and moved back to the farm. The spruce was still there and it had grown to be the biggest one I have seen.

Now my parents enjoy their life in a peaceful country side. Growing their own vegetables and potatoes. The spruce continues to grow and has now gotten a new owner once again. The tree has been there before us and probably will be there long after we are gone.

The spruce has inspired me to plant trees. Something that with some luck will be there several generations.