The GuideSeptember 4, 2023
Druids WatchSeptember 13, 2023
T hree oaks grew in my front yard. They had been planted in the optimism of my middle years, and in the hope for my new son who was only three at the time. My two older boys were fourteen and sixteen then. And my hope for them had been shaken as was their own—and theirs’ in me. Each year they grew stronger, in humility I grew wiser.
Attracting squirrels who understood this was the promised land. A bounty of acorns spread across the land.
The oaks looked down from on high—ever sharing in their season.
To the rabbits we gave fresh produce through the warmer seasons, so they burrowed round our foundation warm until the spring plantings and new growths were served unintended.
They had many tunnels and many children who were curious about red tomato’s among delicate ferns and sprouts.
Across the years I came to see, wherever I was was where you’d be.