Learning to be rooted

In the thrall of our heat wave, I went summer crazy at our local [big box] grocery store and came home with watermelon and peaches that weren't on the list. This week I've been gorging on ice cream cones. As this is being typed, I'm patiently watching to see if any of the forecast thunderstorms deliver some rain to our parched little corner of the Anoka sand plain. Once upon a time, before the Anthropocene, June used to be the wettest month in Minnesota. It's not looking like that will be the case in 2021, although the wettest days fall toward the end of the month so we'll see how it goes.

oak trees and storm clouds

Photo by J. Harrington

Last night I began to read The Nature of Oaks by Douglas Tallamy. There's a fair amount of information regarding the beneficial roles oak trees play in their ecosystem, and a factoid I hadn't even considered before reading it. Blue jays play the most significant role in spreading oak trees into new areas. I knew about squirrels and chipmunks, but jays bury acorns up to a mile from the tree of origin. It's becoming clear that, as annoying as I find oak tree leaf drop going on month after month, the benefits of oaks to ecosystem services more than offsets their annoying habits. Since we live in the country and are, from time to time, harassed and/or annoyed by pocket gophers, biting insects, moles, voles, whitetail deer, black bears, chipmunks and squirrels, poison ivy and nettles, adding oak trees to the list isn't a big deal. It is also a pleasant surprise to learn about a positive aspect to having blue jays around. Their bright colors add to a winter landscape but during summer they've mostly been known for their raucous cries.

Black Oaks

by Mary Oliver

Okay, not one can write a symphony, or a dictionary,

or even a letter to an old friend, full of remembrance
and comfort. 

Not one can manage a single sound though the blue jays
carp and whistle all day in the branches, without
the push of the wind. 

But to tell the truth after a while I'm pale with longing
for their thick bodies ruckled with lichen

and you can't keep me from the woods, from the tonnage

of their shoulders, and their shining green hair.

Today is a day like any other: twenty-four hours, a
little sunshine, a little rain. 

Listen, says ambition, nervously shifting her weight from
one boot to another -- why don't you get going?

For there I am, in the mossy shadows, under the trees.

And to tell the truth I don't want to let go of the wrists
of idleness, I don't want to sell my life for money,

I don't even want to come in out of the rain.

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