The paloverde tree the boys and I liked best forked into a V shape, its narrow, green-barked trunk split against the sky. On afternoons when the Arizona sun beat down too hot to wander the desert surrounding Cactus Country RV Park, we climbed into the paloverde one at a time, our bodies filling its branches like fruits. Our tree was shady, with long leaf-stems good for plucking and absentmindedly skinning with our fingers, the dozens of tiny leaves fluttering to the ground until we held only a slender green straw.