YaYa calls these trees “refrigerator trees” because they are cold to touch. For me, they are reminiscent of a camp I attended when I was a teen.
The camp was a rather pricey backpacking camp which only the rich kids could attend. Except, there were a couple of spots open on some sort of scholarship for the less fortunate. Given we were on welfare, we qualified to go. My mom made the arrangements for us.
I don’t know if we knew that we would be the minority. I don’t remember what we were told about the camp or the situation. I just remember having a checklist of items we were to bring. I remember going to the Goodwill with my mom in search of these things. Hiking boots, a rain poncho, sleeping bag, etc. My mom did her best in obtaining these items. Little did she know that our plastic plates and slurpee cups would be ridiculed as they passed hand to hand down the dish wash line.
Yet, in spite of how badly we stood out as different, we made friends and had a good time. And Big Sis kicked all those rich kids arses on the hardest hike offered — because she’s awesome like that.