Twin Oaks and Twin Oaks and Twin Oaks and....

About 150 years old (judging from the rings of similar-sized trees) this pair of oaks looms over my lane, across from the garage, and they're massive. See, if you can, my six-foot picnic table at their feet. Wind and ice rip off some branches, but in autumn they simply rain acorns and some of 'em take, especially just to their north which is sunlit meadow. And the young trees (three are pictured below) are twin oaks just like their parents. That tickles me no end. I uproot or hack down competitive and invasive red cedars and vines to keep the native Missouri oaks and hickories thriving. After living here 10 years I can see the results, new oaks that will long outlast me, and am so very happy.

On the Trail

To walk through a sturdy Missouri oak and hickory forest is a privilege. It is a mighty thing. This view, a path all paved with light, is along a steepish two-mile trail I walk often, near Rockwoods Range, never failing spring summer winter fall to halt in my tracks and marvel and wish I had been born in Missouri.

Did We Dream This?

Took this at 9:00 a.m. 100 yards up the road.

The Stained-Glass Chapel of Autumn

I dread autumn -- before it gets here. Then, when it comes -- its blue sky, translucent vivid reds and yellows, warm browns, black branches -- I step outside and it's just like a chapel; practically drives me to my knees. Here's one view. I could choose any of a hundred, a million views, all of it rustling, the light shifting, furry and feathery creatures weaving through them like spirits.

The natural Ozark foothills forest is oak and hickory. Non-native, invasive cedars (tall evergreens, conical like Christmas trees) came west with the pioneers; we know that because the oldest cedars are 150 years old. (But who can hate a tree?) What a birthday: 150! If only I may live 100 more years and see 100 more autumns!