In 2007, Virginia celebrated the 400th anniversary of the founding of Jamestown. It was a grand event. The highpoint was when Queen Elizabeth II addressed a joint session of the General Assembly. As a small gesture, the Jamestown Foundation gave each of us a small potted oak tree. We were told it was a Jamestown Oak, but based on the leaves, I think it’s a red oak.
When I took possession of it, the seedling stood about 8 inches high. I carried it to my office, placed it on a windowsill, and forgot about it until a week later when I found it practically withered. I was disappointed by my neglect.
That evening, I took it home hoping that I could revive it. The next day, I planted it at our river place, not expecting that it would recover. Yet 18 years later, it stands no less than 50 feet tall and is thriving. Impressive.
Trees fascinate me. They always have. Even when I was a young boy, I could hardly resist climbing a tree that offered its branches. Climbing as high as I could, often as if gravity were no threat, I would sit perched to watch, well, whatever. A tree could serve many purposes. A fort, ship, airplane, or just a place to be enthroned. But more times than not, it was simply fun. And for a boy, sometimes that’s reason enough.
Now I have an assortment of trees. I grow apples, peaches, cherries, and figs at the river. Accompanying those are a Virginia pine, a Japanese maple, an ornamental cherry, and an assortment of maple, gum, and locust trees. Many varieties. Most care for themselves except those bearing fruit. They require spraying for disease and pests. I use an organic formula. At 74, growing trees is safer than climbing them.
Most recently, I’ve attempted to grow oak saplings from acorns. Gathering them in the fall, I place them in a container of soil, refrigerating them to mimic a cold, dark, and dormant winter. When they begin to sprout in the early spring, I transplant them into a container and let them grow. Later, when they are large enough, I’ll find a place to plant them outside, protecting them with nets in their early years from nibbling deer.
Trees are of great value. If you are a conservationist—and I am—you will know that trees are one of the best organisms on the planet to consume excessive animal and human induced nutrients in the soil. Planted by a river or a stream, trees are very effective in preventing nutrient runoff that pollutes the water that imperils aquatic life. In all truth, the value of trees was not in my mind as I scaled many in my youth. I would come to learn the larger benefits of trees when I served as a member and later as Chairman of the Chesapeake Bay Commission. To say trees are vital to the environment is an understatement. We simply cannot do without them.
Which brings me to this. There is a lot about trees that resembles human life. The metaphors are many. Even the Bible highlights the tree of life in the Genesis story. We frequently speak of a person being “strong as an oak” or another being “deeply rooted” in this or that pursuit. We use terms like family tree, tree of knowledge, tree of liberty, extending an olive branch, the root of the problem, or branching out to some other aspect of livelihood. There are many examples.
But it occurs to me that in this time of social and political turmoil where values and virtues are sometime sidelined for hedonism, personal gain, and getting ahead at all costs, we should ask ourselves is it time to regard—in particular—the mighty oak.
Is it time to consider how something so majestic can come from a tiny acorn that unless you were looking for one, you would stride past it during a casual walk? Is it time to carefully replant values and virtues that must be tended to as they grow and take root in the lives of the children we raise? Is it time to consider why it is important to be rooted in good soil and nourished by the water and elements of life we all need to thrive? Is it time to stand like a mighty oak against the winds of temptation that otherwise uproot and destroy lives? Will we be people of principle, rooted to prevail against what we know is wrong? Shall we offer our branches to a young boy or girl to climb to new heights?
Have I told you about the mighty oak that once was a dying sapling? Now it grows indefatigably in my yard. We can learn something from trees.
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