Thursday, July 26, 2007

My baby oak


A friend of mine just sent me a picture of an oak tree.


Of course there's more to it than that.


I raised this oak tree, literally, from an acorn.


I rescued the sprouting acorn from beneath its parent tree on a university lawn many thousands of miles from where I now live. I think I had to use a spoon to pry it out of the ground. Most college kids don't keep shovels handy.
Mowers would surely have cut it down within a few days. I kept it in a pot of soil until I graduated college, then brought it back with me to the East Coast.


Years later, the opportunity arose to give it to a local university where I had developed some friendships.


Now, the fragile sprout has become a healthy and strong young tree and I looked at the picture that my dear friend sent me and smiled. Barring some awful storm or the caprice of university officials, this tree, now taller than I am, will continue to grow, providing sustenance and shelter for birds and squirrels and such, many decades after I am gone and forgotten.


It just feels good to do a little good thing for our Earth!

5 comments:

eastcoastdweller said...

I hope that this %$#& blogger problem isn't blocking any comments from my readers, for You all know how much I love to hear from you!

...amarpreet said...

I hope no storms and stupid groundskeepers get near your tree, that is really special!

eastcoastdweller said...

I've been told that they already trimmed it once but it appears to have survived and even thrived.

I warned them when I gave it to them that burr oaks grow to be big, big trees -- and that they should not be fooled by its sapling slenderness.

Plant it where it would have room to grow, I said.

leslie said...

I really like your tree. Be proud!

eastcoastdweller said...

I am proud. And it makes me happy to think that its acorns will fill the hungry tummies of many generations of squirrels, and that a whole ecosystem of lichen, insects and the things that feed upon lichen and insects, can form in its bark, branches and leaves, where only a few years ago languished a boring square of sun-baked lawn grass.