How NOT to Identify an Ash Tree

Today the Bro and I went on a hike with a friend. Twenty percent of our hike was through the woods–what I consider actual hiking–and eighty percent was walking on the side of a road as we circled back to where we parked our vehicles. (We don’t believe in backtracking.)  I wondered if the people driving past us thought we were on the hunt for a gas station after our vehicle ran out of gas. 😉

As we walked we exchanged stories, and I debated about sharing one particular story from when my brother Ethan and I went hiking last May. I decided to go ahead, after all, it is rather funny, even if it is only a little embarrassing to me.

Ethan and I were in a state park, bushwhacking through trees and brush to find some land previously unexplored to us. We were on the edge of a swamp when Ethan stopped and evaluated the tree in front of him. He broke a small branch off and looked at it. “This is an ash tree,” he said.

I knew Ethan knew what an ash tree looked like–that information came from working with an arborist who knew his stuff.

“You know how you can tell if this is an ash tree? When you lick it, it tastes like ash from a smoldering fire.” He raised the twig to his lips and it looked to me like he tasted the branch, just as he’d said.

“Really?” I asked, unbelieving yet at the same time trusting, because why would my dear, sweet brother ever steer me wrong?

Ethan tossed another twig my way. It landed on the ground. I picked it up, gave him one last glance of trepidation, and then I licked it.

It tasted like wood. Like I was licking a pencil, or in my case, a plain, old, ordinary stick. Nothing like ash at all.

The look on Ethan’s face was one of unbelief and endless amusement. He doubled over in laughter.

“You’re such a liar!” I attempted to throw the stick back at him, but of course being the tiny twig that it was, didn’t go very far. “I can’t believe I trusted you!”

Ethan, between bursts of laughter, said, “You just licked a stick!”

By this point, our friend who I was telling the story too, was definitely amused. “Everyone does stuff like that when they’re young.” Obviously trying to make me feel better. And under the misconception that I was a little girl when this happened.

I was happy to let him assume this happened years ago, but Ethan was quick to chime in, “This happened last year!”

Of course this made the story all that much better, and we all laughed about it. I’ve learned my lesson however–brothers with a reputation for being mischievous are not to be trusted. And wood from an ash tree does not taste like ash! 😉