Three weeks ago...
as I neared the end of my ride across America
I picked up a small acorn from the New Hampshire road.
What better reminder of an awesome journey than this small creature?
I can plant it at my Land, I thought.
And watch it grow into a mighty oak.
Every day I see that tree I can remember the day I found that acorn on my ride to the Atlantic.
So today I set out to plant my tree...
I arrive at The Land late in the afternoon.
With my trusty bucket I search out the best site for my tree to grow.
The shovel crunches into the hard dirt.
It's so dry.
This is not like our rich Indiana soil -
dark and sweet.
The dry summer has
Luckily we have a well.
New England acorn
I remember the wonderful book, The Man who Planted Trees.
It tells of a shepherd in modern France who restores a desolate landscape to life
by planting 100 acorns every day.
I've planted trees
To the north of the house
are the trees
with her second grade class.
They are 30 feet tall now
making their own acorns.
Along the gravel drive
are the seedling oaks
three years ago.
They are hidden
Their leaves stressed by the sun and drought.
I'll remind Tom to bring them water.
I flag my acorn to protect it from the mower.
My tree will grow over the years.
It will give shade to my grandkids.
Branches to climb.
Nesting for the birds.
I will sit on my porch to watch my tree grow.
And I will remember
when I found
in New Hampshire
a long bike ride