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| Our white oak holds on to its faded brown coat all winter. |
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| Only in May does does it don its colorful spring outfit to replace the old. |
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| For a very brief time in early April it is bare like most normal deciduous trees are in fall and winter. |
Today was a pleasant Friday, one of my days off, to spend a couple of hours on our Snapper mower, bagger attached, sweeping up the last clippings of grass and remaining leaves that have fallen from the maple, walnut, river birch and fruit trees on our .4 acre yard. They are all added to a giant compost pile next to our garden, ready to become the blankets of mulch we put down between rows of corn, beans and other produce each spring.
Our young white oak, though, now some twenty-year-old, isn't ready to yield its faded leaves just yet, and will refuse to do so until its new 6-8 inch growth, with brand new leaf buds, begin to emerge in early spring. The oak (above) grew up voluntarily right against the trunk of a large pine that was like its protective parent until a storm a decade years ago forced it to the ground, leaving the orphan tree to stand alone and fend for itself.
There must be some metaphors about resurrection and new life in all of this, to be sure. Regardless, we get to enjoy the wonder of this ordinary half-acre portion of God's wonderful world we all get to delight in every day, year round.
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