In September, every garment in my wardrobe seems to have acorns in its pockets, offerings from the red, white and bur oaks of the eastern Ontario highlands. After years of rambling its hills and valleys, I have come to think of the towering woodland quercus people as beloved sisters and old friends.
On sunny autumn days, I find a comfortable seat among my kin, and we have long conversations, some of the most thoughtful and enlightening discussions ever. I have no leaves, and I don't bear acorns, but the great oaks welcome me nevertheless.
Pockets without acorns rattling around in their depths enfold other offerings, pine and spruce cones, walnuts, butternuts, beech nuts, shagbark hickory nuts and conkers (horse chestnuts). I adore their shapes, their colors, their textures, their fragrance, the whole season of their fruiting, and I can never resist gathering them out in the woods. Autumn is a season of entelechy, a time of becoming, a time of of once and future trees.
Turning my pockets out this weekend before chucking everything into the washing machine, I realized that there has been a whole forest riding around with me for several days, and it made me smile. No need to pine for my tree sisters when I am away from the woods - they are right here with me.
1 comment:
'Autumn is a season of entelechy, a time of becoming, a time of of once and future trees.'
There you go, sending me to the dictionary!
Love this entry, taking me with you out there.
Think I'll throw off this housecoat, get dressed, and head out among the trees myself.
-Kate
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