Acorn
Found a home in a field
2021. A surveyor crouches down to examine the trunk of a majestic oak tree. She has been charged with developing a town acre into a park dedicated to ancestors who established the area. There is a strand of barbed wire embedded in the tree’s side, buried beneath decades of overgrowth. It is rusted and decorated with unusual twisted diamond-shaped barbs that are rounded and dull. She lays a hand on the bark, suddenly inspired. “No one’s cutting you down,” she says. “Because you are the foundation.”
1921. A farmer walks his property line, holding a branch with both hands that serves as the axle for a spool of barbed wire. A bale of single-strand cable was his first major purchase for the property, and he spent a week double-braiding it and attaching handcrafted barbs. He wraps the wire around a tree, then heads in the direction of the morning sun, counting 100 paces. His entire savings is invested in this rocky, tree-filled plot. His bride has doubts but he has vision. He knows there will be children here someday playing among the trees and working the farm.
1821. A child rends the sky with an imitated war cry, wooden axe held high in the air. In his mind he relives the great battle recounted last night by a visiting elder. He stops before a sapling and raises the axe higher. “Stop!” He is startled and turns to see his father nearby, astride a horse among the tall grass. “It is a child, just like you,” he says. “Give it a chance to prove its worth.” His father’s words stay with him. He grows up visiting the tree often and caring for it like a sibling. He feels responsible for ensuring that it becomes the tree it was meant to be.
