Our Laurel Oak gave us shelter, shade and our own private world.


We bow our heads in memory of a magnificent soul.

Our Laurel the Oak died on Friday, September 21, in his home, our front yard.
We say "our front yard," but it belonged to him. His trunk, his sprawling limbs, his green leaves, dominated every aspect of the place. His was a commanding presence for us and for our street.
He died from complications of old age and a debilitating and contagious fungus. He had already dropped some main limbs. When an arborist informed him of his failing health and threat to his brother oaks in the back yard, he asked that we consider our role as his stewards.
No one can own a tree. It's beyond the limit of possibility. We can plant, water, feed and nurture, admire, appreciate, but we can't own. A tree belongs to the earth.
Our oak left us while we spent Friday in daycare. He knew our howls would bring down the heavens if we were forced to watch him go.
Our oak, protecting us to the very end.
Laurel, what an apt name for him. A laurel can be a crown, and he was the crowning glory of our street; a laurel can also be something that festoons, or decorates. He certainly did that. And more.
A laurel is also an honor. He honored us for the years we have lived here, and honored this street for over 50 years. A laurel can be a wreath, and he embraced our yard and home with a benevolence that enticed owls, squirrels, birds, rabbits, possums and even rats. He sheltered Zephyr from the hot Florida sun as she helped plant the row of azaleas across the front; he soothed Nigel on his walks around the front yard in his last months. It was a great pleasure for Nigel to roam among the ferns and under story in the front yard. He could transform himself into a young dog in the wild and relive former adventures. Laurel also harbored Joe the Cat when he was a stray and needed a cool and private shelter until he could find a home.
Maybe it was Laurel the Oak who persuaded Joe the Cat to select us as his new family.
The oaks in Laurel's family are short-lived. Fifty years was a very long life for one of his kind, and he was loved and admired to the end.
Now that Laurel's gone, we face a different sky and horizon. It's a new world. But he left us with several other trees who will now have a chance to grow and shrine with more sunlight, and an opportunity to have flowers in the front yard. We have so many gardening adventures ahead of us. Laurel left us with his tales, but with a new beginning.
Look at the trees in your life and take time to get to know them. Give them admiration and your thanks, because even strong oaks thirst for respect and devotion.
Some portraits of Laurel, taken by Joe the Cat. We think it's some of his best work, but Joe says he had a beautiful subject.



Laurel, from the front step.



Laurel, his right profile.


View of Laurel's domain, from the street.


Laurel, from the left. There's his scar after losing a limb.


Front row seats for the Laurel Oak Admiration Society.


For Laurel the Oak, with love from Joe the Cat

Posted: Sun - September 23, 2007 at 10:54 AM          

©