Friday, October 8, 2010

Acorns in the mail

My 4 favorite words are: Acorns in the mail.  These beauties are sawtooth oak* (Quercus acutissima) from a buddy down South.  These have several futures:  some will be planted next spring, some will be eaten very soon, some will be analyzed for nutritional content.

In the short term all will be fridged, much to the chagrin of my family (who operate under the bizarre assumption that refrigerators are for food storage and were not invented for the sole purpose of stratifying acorns; sheesh).

I have never in my life been so anxious for the arrival of spring, which is a bit depressing since it's only October 8 and I have about 9 months of winter to go.  In part that's because every winter, as a result of some promise I don't actually remember making, my kids get to choose a sledding hill for me to go down and a jump for me to go off.  So far it has worked out OK; I haven't actually broken any bones (contrary to what I thought at impact) and my kids get a new story they can laugh about all summer ("Papa I never knew you could fly that far, ha ha ha.  I  thought you probably broke your arm, ha ha ha").  But I'm not getting any younger, and the jumps keep getting bigger.  So if I stop posting sometime about January 20, it's because I'm in traction somewhere.

But mostly I'm anxious for spring so I can get planting.  Nothing makes winter seem longer than having acorns starting to germinate in the fridge.

* Remind me soon that it's time to have a little discussion (and by that I mean multi-sided audience participation!) about native versus non-native oaks.


  1. I remember one time making my dad go sledding down the hill near our house. We had just gotten a new plastic sled for Christmas, there was enough snow on the ground to say that it had snowed (but you could still see clumps of grass) and my brothers and I had a blast going down! So - we drag my dad to the top of the hill, put him in the sled and watch him go... didn't think about the fact that he was heavier than us or about the rocks on the hill. He ended up riding over a sharp rock that cut through the plastic sled, through his overalls and into the skin on his butt! Fortunately, mom was pretty good with a butterfly bandage - though that was the last time I saw my dad on a sled...

  2. Your dad is a brave man... but much smarter than me if he stayed off a sled after that ;-) Last year I somehow managed to gash my arm through a winter jacket and a flannel shirt... without damaging either fabric!