Over the past few weeks, I’ve been really struck by how colourful the oak trees I see on my morning walks are at this time of year, with their wild orangey-red foliage so different to the surrounding trees heavy green. So here’s a poem I wrote in my head about those oaks this morning. The images are from Tom’s Range project.
Edited to add: thanks to those who have sent links to the phenomenon of oak trees putting out fresh new orangey leaves in July and August – Lammas growth
This oak is
This oak is
most itself when seeming
to speak
of other seasons
First leaf among
the last in spring
as yellow as
September
Verdant July
draws all colours to itself:
scarlet and bronze, it
glows in unexpected flame
Yet, while birch and beech are turning
it’s fresh as
June’s green
In hoar frost and mist
this oak carols out
May’s blossomy joy
from the heart of December
And, in February’s dim bunting
of usnea and moss, it
flies the promise of
borrowing days
In speaking of
other seasons,
this oak is
most itself when seeming
July 5th, 2020
Hi, Kate. So happy to see a phenomenon I’ve been seeing in my own garden memorialized in your poem. I was sure that our one rose, inherited from my mother, was a goner this year when it got a major case of black spot and dropped most of its leaves. A knowledgeable friend encouraged me to cut it right back to stubs and let it regenerate… And now we have a mass of gorgeous bronze leaves and buds — in July! Your description of the ways these unexpected colors call from one season to another gives me the shock of recognition that I look for in my most favorite poems. Thank you!
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Beautiful poem Kate. I love it. May I ask your permission to write this in my calligraphy practice? Photo’s not bad either! ( well of course the photo is perfect! It’s Tom’s! )
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go right ahead, Penelope! I’d be honoured for you to render it in calligraphy!
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Thank you Kate and Tom. In this time of uncertainty, your bit of writing poetry and Toms photography really fairs well in lifting the darker moments. Thank you, thank you, thank you💕
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I love your website— first thing I check in the morning.
Poetry, photography , the joy of nature——and yarn too!!! Thanks to all of you!
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I have eagerly awaited each day of your Covid Blog. Each and every one has its own special beauty; I have enjoyed them all. Today your poetry, Kate. Absolutely beautiful! Please keep writing poetry, you have a gift. Thank you for such a lovely blog. It brightens my day in a challenging time.
Take very good care, cuddles for the pups please.
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My dad Eric Labrum was wont to explain that the extension growth that came after midsummer rains was called “Lammas growth” ( Lammas-tide is 1 August; I guess things are changing these days).
He used to point out this phenomenon on oak that grew on Harpenden Common, on his daily two mile walk to work, which I shared as a student.
I love love love your poem, Kate, especially as Oak is becoming “my” totemic tree. I would like to link to the poem on my blog, which had an oak theme last week …
Would you be able to leave a link and comment on http://www.writingpresence.com where the latest post (#16 in a series) is about a calligraphy ‘O is for Oak’ that I did at school over fifty years ago? Sadly lost, but I attempted a sketch…!
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thank you for the link to Lammas growth!
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Thank you for teaching me a new word – usnea. I looked it up. I also live in a relatively unpolluted part of the world – North Northumberland and take great pleasure in noticing the mimutae of the natural world. Thank you too, Tom, for your evocative and atmospheric photos. I so enjoy your blogs.
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Your poem is quite beautifully constructed and says such a lot in a few lines. I love it! And the first and last pictures of your oak speak for themselves.
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In Devon our wonderful oaks are really green. Never seen a golden one at this time of year.
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Just beautiful Kate, a poet too. Am printing this off to keep. Keep writing poetry…… Sarah x
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Stunning pictures. As always. Tom is a super excellent photographer.
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Very nice, I have also one in the garden, not so big, but I keep the poem
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How lovely. I’m ashamed to say that I’ve never noticed this phenomenon.
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