Monday, April 21, 2014
Last Dance at Two Oaks
We've partied and dined under those trees; meditated and mediated. Stories have been told, philosophers have been derided. Several relationships have bloomed and a few have faded. But always the two sentinels stood watching.
Just two days ago we had a small gathering at the ranch. A delicious slab of salmon was grilled on the same hearth where beef and pork, chicken and turkey have crisped over the years. We spoke of how the space had once been canopied by the two surviving walnut trees, one now gone and other refusing to leaf out this spring in what will be its final season.
But always the pair of giant oaks towered above it all.
When they were last trimmed by the arborist, he said the far oak, the one that had lost the huge section about ten years ago, it was weak. It might last another hundred years in that condition. It did not.
I got a call only hours after I had returned to the City. A great crash in the night had claimed the towering beauty. The ranch and all inhabitants survived, there will be more gatherings in the future; but going forward they will be under a single oak.
Art: Landscape with Two Oaks by Jan van Goyen