There’s a patch of woods just behind our house. As if it were a road on a map, the wet-weather creek that starts at the front of our property leads you through open land, straight to a mighty oak tree that acts as a doorway to these magical woods. The creek deepens and continues beyond the oak tree, weaving in and out of various native cedars and massive oak trees, their canopy so thick that the sun seldom pierces through. There are many fallen limbs from long ago that now provide homes for the wildlife that call these woods home and just beyond the creek, as you trek deeper into the woods, there’s a small grove of tall elm trees that reach for the sky, parting the way for the sunbeams to make their way onto the forest floor. This is where we bury our pets as it is the most peaceful place on the entire property. Further into the woods, there are countless game trails that intersect with the ones I’ve cut through over the years, each leading you to one unique spot after another.
If you ever consider hiring a therapist, save your money and go find some woods to roam. I guarantee you’ll find the answers you seek and more. I’ve walked these woods too many times to count and there has never been a time where I emerged from them in anything other than a peaceful, almost trance-like state, yet unfortunately, that all changed on Friday evening as I emerged from this magical place with a heavy, heavy heart.
As some of you already know, we’ve been battling oak wilt on our property for years now. In what seemed to be the blink of an eye, the gorgeous oak trees around our house started to die right before our eyes. At first, we were consulted by a member of the forestry department of a local university. She was great, and offered a wealth of knowledge, but she only spoke of one option. By injecting the infected trees with a fungicide, it would, in some cases, prevent the wilt from spreading, thus “saving” the tree by basically preserving it in the state it’s currently in. It’s a laborious process with no guarantees, and the quote to treat the countless trees that we already knew were infected was way beyond anything we could afford so, with no real actionable options, we decided to let mother nature do as she saw fit.
Fast forward to earlier last year, we found an arborist that has a much more affordable treatment option that, if it works as promoted, actually starves the wilt by using microbes to basically eat what the oak wilt eats, thus starving the wilt to death. We decided to give it a try and with a couple of treatments under our belt, it seems that some of the trees are responding well, but it’s still too soon to tell. Keep in mind, we’ve only treated the ones nearest our house so far. We’ve been talking about treating further into the property, but haven’t pulled the trigger as of yet. This bring us to this past Friday afternoon.
I was ending my day of working on some projects around the farm, when I decided to take a walk through the woods. This wasn’t a walk to set my mind at ease or explore new areas, though… There was a distinct purpose in this walk.
For months now, I’ve noticed quite a bit of thinning in the tree canopy when I glance at the tree line from our kitchen window. I’ve gone through almost every “reason” for it like “The brutal summer must’ve stressed them a bit.” or “That last freeze shocked them more than I thought.” but, deep down, I had a feeling what the true answer was.
As I walked through the woods, stopping at each oak tree, that feeling was confirmed.
Veinal Necrosis.
This is the telltale sign that a tree is suffering from oak wilt. It’s where the veins within each leaf die before the “meat” of the leaf, just as a cancer attack our cells from within. It’s an unmistakeable sight, and it was the common denominator in almost every tree I checked. I stopped about halfway through the property but, out of all the trees I checked, ninety percent of them were infected and in decline.
I’ve been struggling with this ever since, but not in the way you might think… Let me explain.
The Stoic philosophy, a philosophy that I continue to deepen my understanding of, teaches us to willingly accept the things beyond our control. It reminds us that we can only control our minds which, in turn, determines our actions. Along the same lines, there’s an excerpt from my favorite poem ‘Desiderata’ by Max Ehrmann. The excerpt reads “Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.” Philosophy and poetry aside, my trust in God affirms and reinforces that all things have happened, and are happening, as they should. Well, I feel like I’m failing quite miserably on all fronts the past few days as I have let this sudden realization stay with me as I seem to fight the acceptance of it all.
Yes, these are just trees. Trees die, just as all living things do, but the fact that I stand to lose the majority of these oak trees hurts me so deep in my soul and I don’t really understand why. I mean, I get it, I’m a tree hugger. I love trees of every type, I always have. I can’t count the drawings of various trees, leaves, limbs, etc. that I have done since childhood. There’s just something so magical about a tree. Take these oaks in our woods, for example… Most of them are well over 100 years old, some of them were said to be around 300 years old, according to the forestry consultant we had out here years ago. They have stood for generations, providing shade, shelter, and guidance for all that have come into their presence. That is something that should be held in high regard as we serve as their stewards during our time with them. Watching the thousands of oak trees, in our area and abroad, die well before their time because of a disease is gut-wrenching and offers a feeling of failure, almost as if we’ve let them down by not holding up our end of the bargain to protect them and help them thrive.
I found myself standing beneath one of the trees in our woods yesterday and I couldn’t shake the thought of “how will these woods survive without you?”. What happens to the wildlife that will ultimately be displaced? What happens to forest floor as the leaves no longer fall, creating inches thick layers of decomposing materials, further enriching the soils below? What happens when the acorns stop falling and the saplings no longer sprout, completely dismissing the chance for repopulation? Even as I write this, I realize how silly this all sounds and, as of this morning, I was finally able to turn the corner and come to the following conclusions…
Many, if not all of these oak trees will most likely die, and that’s okay. I’m hopeful that some of the stronger ones will survive, and we’ll continue to treat certain ones with the hope that they’ll stick around, but oak wilt is extremely invasive so we’ll have to put up quite the fight. We’ll do our best, but we’ll keep a realistic outlook.
Yes the landscape will change. As I drive the back roads around our place and see the countless dead trees that the neighboring farmers and ranchers are faced with, I realize that they are also witnessing a changing landscape, and I’m reminded that I’m not alone in this struggle as they too are most likely heartbroken to see their beloved oaks fall.
These trees may fall, but many others will remain. There are other oak species that are much more resilient and can avoid oak wilt’s attacks, and there are the elms and native cedars I mentioned earlier. As mother nature does so well, she will adapt to the changes at hand and continue to thrive. Plus, as to lend a helping hand, we’ll plant new trees. Will they grow to be as tall and mighty as the ones that fall? Not in my lifetime, but grow tall they will as the generations to come stand in awe of their presence.
Last, and most importantly, God is indeed in control and I have the utmost trust that these trees are on the path that they are supposed to be on. It hurts to see them die, and I don’t understand why it is happening, but it’s all happening as it should. Again, these are trees we’re talking about. Just as we lose the ones we love, it’s okay to mourn their loss. It’s supposed to hurt. That pain is what grants us the perspective of the love and light we felt when they were here. That love and light remains with us, and it reminds us that we must in turn pass that light and love onto those next in line.
I’m convinced that this was a test, or at least a reminder to stay on the path that I’m currently on… Continue to strengthen my spirit, build resilience, and understand what it is that is beyond my control as I embrace that which I do control. Looking back on the past couple of days, I think I needed this. I think I had it in my mind that a strong spirit and resilient nature meant that I should be unaffected by adversity or, even worse, tragedy. I’m grateful for the reminder that the pain will still come and that it is important to explore its effect on your spirit. Most of all, I’m grateful for the reminder that the acceptance of that which is beyond my control is where peace reigns supreme.
As we all face adversity in whatever form it comes to us, it’s important not to lose our grip on our thoughts. Fear and anxiety love to see us slip as they thrive in moments of fatigue and hopelessness. Accept the pain the adversity brings, but remain at peace with your soul as there is no pain too great that can conquer a resilient spirit and mind. You are in control of it all. I know that may sound contradictory, but when it comes to all that life brings your way, even though those forces are indeed beyond your control, you command the fortress. Stand guard, fear no enemy, and the walls will remain impenetrable.