The Mighty Oak

When I was sixteen I experienced the most magical kiss. On a cool autumn evening, I was walking with a boy I was dating along a country road and we stopped to admire a massive, craggy, old oak tree growing along the roadside. I walked over to it and pressed my hands against the rough bark and said, “I love this tree”. I turned around, leaned against the massive trunk, and looked up into the bare, but no less impressive, crown. When I returned my gaze to eye level I was brought back to my senses by a very passionate kiss. That kiss has stayed with me for nearly thirty years. Never before and never since have I been kissed under that tree.

Now, if I was writing a romance novel, that boy and I would have eventually married, reciting our vows under that magical ancient oak tree. But for me, life is better than fiction and fortunately for me, ten years later, someone else proposed to me under my favorite front yard maple tree. Although, nearly twenty years and a million memories have passed since I said, “YES!” that oak still holds a special place in my heart. Even after all these decades, the wonder and admiration I felt for it as a teenager hasn’t waned. Thinking back, I now know that the kiss wasn’t magical because of the person kissing me but because of the tree. You see, sixteen was the age I was when my passion and appreciation for all things nature blossomed. It was the time I went from merely enjoying the great outdoors to learning all I could about it. That night so very long ago I said that I loved the tree; not the boy.

So many times I have walked, ridden my bike, or trotted my horse on the same country road, bearing witness to the tree’s seasonal and annual changes. So many times have I stopped to appreciate this historical giant who has survived centuries of progress. I imagine as a young sapling it saw the first dirt road being built as people traveled through the countryside in horse-drawn wagons. It survived the building of the railroad and then its destruction when the paved road was put down. The oak saw the end of the farmers and the subdivision of their land; its trunk boasting posted signs with the names of various owners and its limbs being trimmed so the power lines could run along the road.

Last week, when the temperature climbed above freezing and the sun shone high in a blue sky, my daughter and I decided to go for a walk. This is nothing new for us but it had been a month since our last stroll down the road. We chatted about our usual nonsense as we walked for a mile or so. We stopped to make snowballs and throw them at telephone poles. When the wind picked up and the clouds started moving in, we determined it was time to head home. As we strolled back home, our shadows leading the way, we stopped to acknowledge that hers was catching up to mine. We then, of course, had to meld the two together to make a two-headed, two-armed, three-legged monster.

That’s when we both noticed him- my old friend. There he stood, pale gray against a vivid blue sky, just dwarfing everything around him. King of kings, a silent benevolent force with more mystery and knowledge than any of us could ever possess. It was as though Hannah observed the oak for the very first time. Sure she, like her big brother, had knelt beside the massive trunk to gather acorns in the fall but this was the first time her attention was grabbed from afar. “Whoa”, was all she muttered as I took a picture of my oldest forever love. She ran across the street to lean against the trunk so she might be in the picture. I soon caught up to her and together we touched and examined the bark. We ran our hands over the countless scars and nails that mar it. Thankfully not a single sign hides any part of his grandeur. This tree belongs to no one but himself.

That recent little interaction with the immovable giant got me thinking about all the memories we had made together from that passionate kiss to collecting pockets full of acorns with my children to standing beneath it with my dying father as he stared up in amazement as if it were his first time seeing the tree. I wish I had known that would have been our last walk along the road together. I would have loved to take a picture of him with his childlike wonderment. I sit here now sharing all this with you because, well, it’s been on my mind. It’s been making me wonder. I’ve been desperate to have something to wonder about.

For days now I had been thinking about the mighty oak. Then this past Sunday at breakfast with my neighbors, huge history buffs who live in the oldest house in the area, I mentioned the tree. I told them that I marveled at how the tree was older than any other living thing or structure around here. Then one of the owners of the house took a picture off the wall to show me. It was a grainy black and white of the road before it was a road; it was a railroad. This led to a lengthy discussion about all the changes that took place along our little stretch of heaven. This made me think about how young and insignificant I am in the grand scheme of things.

Oak trees can live for hundreds of years and some species can grow one to two feet a year. They seem to stay standing while the ash and maples around them succumb to pests and disease. I’ll tell you this much- I will cherish every little oak growing on my property now that my maples have been cut and my ash trees are all falling around me. I learned that some species of oak can take anywhere from 50 to 100 years to produce acorns.

I find this fact both astonishing and upsetting. I think about how long it takes for these trees to reach maturity and how many have been cut down before their prime because the wood is prized for its many uses. Fortunately, there are a lot of dendrophiles out there who revere this tree. Not only is the oak considered a keystone species but it is also a symbol of strength, morale, resistance, and knowledge. Think about it! Oaks not only keep the forest healthy by providing food and habitat and maintaining a greater diversity of organisms wherever they grow but they also inspire people and fill them with awe. And we should all be awe-inspired by a tree that is believed to have roots that reach as far into the ground as its branches reach to the heavens. This makes the oak the symbol of the witch’s saying, “As above; so below.

I like that saying but I’m not going to expound on the religious, philosophical, and esoteric tradition of it. For this wondering, I’m going to interpret it as what we see on the outside should be indicative of what’s on the inside (or below the surface). Maybe that’s a simple way of seeing life. After all, so much of what we are exposed to is just fluff with no real substance. But if you take some of the words that are associated with the mighty oak - life, strength, wisdom, nobility, family, loyalty, power, longevity, heritage, and honor - and apply them to how you live your life then you will have a life well lived. I mean apply them; not just for show but even when no one is looking. Your life will be even better lived if you surround yourself with people who also possess these qualities.

This brings me back to my beloved Oak and how the little moments spent beneath its massive crown have had a huge impact on my life. I see images of a youthful me leaning against the massive trunk, a mother me crouching down beneath the shade with a curious child, and the daughter me standing beside a wise old man as he becomes filled with reverence. One day I might find myself doing the same thing as my father. I can only hope I will have one of my children with me when that day comes. I can't help but marvel at the deep connections I’ve made with the people who live on the road with the oak. These are people I consider dear friends and chosen family. These are people whose families had put down roots on this land long before I came along. Some even have roots as deep as the oak trees. I’m merely a sapling by comparison but I’m catching up. With any luck, my cherished oak will continue to grow during my and my children’s lifetime so we may be reminded of the beauty, strength, and courage that exists in all of us.