I love trees. I admit, I hug trees—literally. I always have. We moved a lot when I was growing up, but I remember one house we lived in had a great climbing tree in the front yard. I spent hours in that tree; I would read on its branches, think, and conjure up stories I hoped to one day write.
Even my pen name, Eila Oakes, is a product of my love for trees… especially oak trees. One of the meanings of Eila is tree, or oak tree. Oakes, well, I don’t need to explain that.
The only trees I don’t like are palm trees. But that’s just because they are invasive to the natural landscape where I live. Palm trees in their native environment are lovely. It bothers me when I’m hiking, surrounded by beautiful, old, knobby oaks… then all of a sudden, there is a massive palm tree growing in the middle of it all. Go home, palm tree. You’re drunk.
Anyway, this is supposed to be be about oak trees because I’m on the letter O. I guess I can continue my gripes about palm trees when I write for the letter P, but I probably won’t.
I live in southern California, and I’m sure most people know that the state is in the middle of a drought. The drought, along with a deadly pest from Guatemala, called the Gold-Spotted Borer, has been taking out many of our beautiful, native oaks. This makes me sad. As it is, I don’t want to live in California. Being here would be unbearable to me without the option to get away and be surrounded by the trees I love so much.
What is your favorite tree?