Hillsides on the north side are glowing with the russet leaves of large oak trees, but here on the south side all the oaks fell to logging sometime before we moved here in 1975. Our hillside was home to hackberry, elm, redbud, cedar and osage orange trees, but no oaks. Only a logging trail remained to tell the story of the great oaks that once grew here.
Over the ensuing years squirrels have worked to remedy this loss. Gradually oak seedlings began to appear on our hillside. Only at this time of year are they clearly visible. Most other trees have lost their leaves, but the oaks are late to turn and the last to drop their leaves. Looking down from the back deck I see many spots of color.
Russet
Wine red
I will not live to see these trees mature, but I take joy in hoping that our great-grandchildren will treasure these trees. Oaks are part of our legacy to them. The oak is a symbol of strength and endurance, qualities those yet-to-be-born children will need to survive in a world where 25 million acres of tropical forest are destroyed every year. Water will be in short supply for the world's population of humans, which will have reached eight billion by the time those children are born. A myriad of other problems will beset them in our rapidly-deteriorating environment.
We do what we can to protect those unborn children and hope for the best.
2 comments:
Are you thinking of helping them along? We have a photo of our son at 9 years standing next to the red oak in front of our house, planted by the city. Thirty five years later it is a large tree. Hang in there!
One thing is for sure: I don't have another thirty-five years. Maybe we could put some compost on the little oaks, but they're coming along pretty well. One bore its first acorns this summer. That's progress.
We also have three pin oaks that a group of visiting German students planted in our yard as gifts. These trees are quite large now, but pin oaks are fast-growing, more so than any other oak. They give me joy.
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