I’ve been thinking about oak trees lately.
There’s a large oak (looks like a white oak but I could easily be wrong) just beside a road that I pass on my way to work each day. It is magnificent. Easily among the oldest trees in Guelph and majestic in its dark, deeply indented bark and craggy limbs. At least a metre at the base, the sidewalk has to swerve around it. So tall that the hydro lines do not dare to trespass: they cross the road to avoid it and start up again after. It is rare that it doesn’t astonish me. On those few times when I, likely up too late the night before, bike past it unseeing I turn to face it. Even if I can’t see it I acknowledge it.
It’s got a strange presence. It might be the way the limbs jostle about at odd angles and with such careless strength. It’s hard to say in words.
Wikipedia authors have had a lot to say on the subject. I was especially intrigued to see the following in this article:
In Celtic mythology it is the tree of doors, believed to be a gateway between worlds, or a place where portals could be erected.
Oaks have had such an impact on our minds that we have given certain of them special names and significance. Check this out. I wonder if my tree should have a name or already has one?