For every mighty oak...

There was once an acorn that held its ground.

It's autumn, and every jacket, vest, sweater and pair of trousers in my wardrobe has acorns in its pockets, offerings from red and white oaks, pin oaks and bur oaks. The towering mother trees are magnificent beings, much loved sisters and old friends after many years of rambling the Two Hundred Acre Wood. On sunny days, I find a comfortable seat among my tree sisters, and we have some of the most comforting, thoughtful and enlightening conversations ever.

Pockets without acorns rattling around in their depths enshrine other offerings, pine and spruce cones, black walnuts, butternuts, beech nuts, bitternut and shagbark hickory nuts. I can never resist gathering acorns, seeds, cones and nuts when I am in the woods, adore their shapes, their colors, their textures, their fragrance, the season of their fruiting. The season is one of entelechy, of becoming, of once and future trees. In the words of Robert Bringhurst,

"Seeds and seed capsules, in nature, are unfailingly elegant. Form not only follows function in these structures; it chases it around, like a mouse with a moth or a cat with a mouse. Immense amounts of information and nutrition are routinely housed in spaces handsome far beyond necessity and compact beyond belief."
Robert Bringhurst, The Tree of Meaning, Language Mind and Ecology

Turning pockets inside out this week before chucking everything into the washing machine, I realized that there has been a whole forest riding around with me, and it made me grin from ear to ear. No need to pine for my tree sisters when I am away from the woods - they are right here with me.