E is for Edgar Allen Poe and the weeping willow tree. Fifth of 26 posts in the April 2021 Blogging From #AtoZChallenge. Theme: “Endwell: My Early Teen Years”— adding my story to the family history mix. Please join me on the journey. 
Scaring the pants off yourself is a time honored teen tradition. Today it’s done by watching terrifying movies, but in my early teens in the 1960s I had my own method — and it involved Edgar Allen Poe and our soaring weeping willow tree. So let me set the stage.
Start with a towering weeping willow
My dad started our weeping willow tree from a branch stuck into a bottle of water shortly after we moved to Endwell in 1957. Willows are notoriously fast growers — so by the time I was a teenager our willow tree towered high above the roof.
Most days the diaphanous tree looked stately and beautiful, its green, sun-dappled leaves cascading down the branches. But at night the willow was huge and imposing — and when whipped about in a storm, atmospheric and scary.
Enter Edgar Allen Poe
My parents encouraged reading — and my mom regularly took us children to the George F. Johnson Memorial Library in Endicott so we could tote home stacks of books. I was a voracious reader and loved those library trips.
But just to be sure there were always some quality books around the house, my folks also purchased a set of Modern Library Classic Literature — and one of those classic volumes was the scary Works of Edgar Allen Poe.
Wait for a thunderstorm
We had an enclosed back porch off our garage with a sturdy roof, screened walls, a pop-up wall mounted table and wall-hung lamp. When the sun was up, it was a shady place for us kids to hang out — and our family sometimes ate dinner there in the summer.
But in the dark, or when it was windy, or especially during a thunderstorm, it was the perfect place to curl up with the terrifying Works of Edgar Allen Poe.
Surrounded by the roaring darkness outside, with the willow tree thrashing about amid flashes of lightening, I would crack open the Poe volume under the little cone of lamplight — and before you know it, I was being buried alive in “Premature Burial” or walled up in a deep, moldy wine cellar with the “The Cask of Amontillado.” Yikes!
Up next: F is for Farm visits and Family Fun. Please leave a comment, then join me as Endwell: My Early Teen Years unfolds one letter at a time!
© 2021 Molly Charboneau. All rights reserved.
Molly,
My grandparents had a weeping willow in their yard. I always liked watching it sway in the wind but I hated the bugs that seemed to flock to it. Edgar Allen Poe is perhaps the first poet I recall from my childhood despite my lack of interest in reading. I think I became interested somewhat after seeing an old Vincent Prince horror film that had something to do with Poe.
If you haven’t already, I invite you to check out my Looney Tunes Art Sketch of Elmer Fudd! Happy A2Zing, my friends!
I love that you found the perfect spot to read Poe. Weekends In Maine
Great story to add to your family history. You have a talent for building a visual image of the scene as you build tension in an entertaining story. No weeping willow in my childhood but plenty of wooded areas in general.
You set the scene perfectly 😉 Now I am scared and don’t want to read Edgar Allen Poe!
Are you aware of the “Tree Horoscope”? According to it, I am a weeping willow.
https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.com/2021/04/a-z-2021-dont-put-all-your-eggs-in-one.html
Weeping willows remind me of my grandma’s home
Here from atoz https://poojapriyamvada.blogspot.com/2021/04/eucatastrophe-newnormal-a2z.html
That willow tree just looks peaceful to me. Fancy scaring yourself like that! 😆
Ohhh I remember my own adventures in the weeping willow tree at my grandparents house until a storm took it down in the 70’s. Luckily my grandmother snapped a pick of me in it with my grandfather before he took the chainsaw too it. Those were some scary stories, but so much fun.
Cheers
Crackerberries