Perspective is everything. Looking up into the tall oak, I am a tiny brown leaf, lying on the ground, covered by snow, revealed by sun, and then covered by snow again. Looking up into the tall oak, I am a tiny creature sheltering under his mighty limbs. Even in winter, he shelters me in his embrace. All within his reach are safe. Looking up into the tall oak, I am given encouragement. I am told, “You, too, can grow and be great.”
The protected ecosystem under an oak is magical. The ground is soft when not frozen, and fresh and crisp during winter. The scent is still lovely, even when the air desperately freezes my skin. Some of the gnarled roots poke up through the soil, forming an impenetrable network, an umbrella shielding the underworld. It is not unlike the umbrella of the summer leaves, which shields the overworld.
The oak dips its feet into one world and its branches and twigs into another world. The trunk, shrouded by scratchy skin sometimes hard as metal, carries on the secret communication between the two worlds. Each enters the other through the hidden passageway. This is what oaks do, and as a creature who lives underneath an oak, I share in the magic.
|Staring up into the overworld.|