Scent

there's a scent in the air,

the fresh of Fall,

Summer cooling,

days move small

too a sense in the soul,

season of Fall?

Summer fading,

heart's new call?

the seasons now churning,

outside and in,

feeling in love,

Jesus again

those dog days of Summer,

thirsting to end,

waiting to quench,

His springs to send

~tmk

The Old Oak Tree

We love our old back yard Oak. It's home to squirrels that gleefully play in its branches and depend on its acorns for winter's supply. Blue Jays sit in it and mock their teasing subjects while arrogantly peering down upon them. Thatched rope swings have hung from its reaches, and children have giggled and swung carefree while trusting its strength with utter abandon. It sits next to Grizzly Creek where it's fed copious amounts of H2O, and it's shielded by a hillside on its southeastern exposure. Many years ago someone planted non-indigenous Eucalyptus trees on that hillside to act as a windbreak. Those trees are home to a pair of owls that make it their seasonal nesting place and soothingly hoot at dusk right before they venture for an evening's out. Those trees also serve their purpose and capture the silence of wind that makes it howl while screaming across aromatic leaves. The Oak is crooked, and all bent in every different direction, except on that southeastern side where shaded by another of its species. Limbs have struggled to sprout there and the bark on that half of its trunk is scaled with moss. We're told the tree may be over 150 years old. If only it could talk... the stories it might tell.

Over the last few summers our neighbor has slowly removed some of those Eucalyptus trees, perhaps to improve the view, or perhaps to reduce a fire's fuel. While we were originally saddened to see some of the Eucalyptus forestry felled, our Oak is now seeing the light of day where it's rarely felt it for years gone past. We can already see signs and sighs of relief as it welcomes that long lost nutrient, its warmth and its rays. We know the tree will never fully balance with limbs growing where it originally desired, but in a way we like that because it's shape is a reminder of so many things about ourselves, about our children, about our adoptions. We leave our imagination to venture the similarities, and end here with what cannot possibly be captured by word.

To live under that Oak was a dream, now one come true as we christen a small cottage to welcome our children, our family, our friends and ourselves. The tree was begging for more friendship, or maybe we for its. Perfectly framed by all of the tree's irregularity, the small dwelling sits right under its shade. Now its light source comes not only from above and all around, but also beneath.

We love our old back yard Oak.

In gleeful abandon,