Where I'm visiting long-term for a while, between travels around Wisconsin, I find myself amid many oaks.
During childhood I discovered all kinds of oaks I met provoked watery-eyed sneezes during autumn. However, now I understand this reactive relationship has shifted mysteriously for the much, much better -- no hay fever symptoms irritated me all season.
For weeks the oaks along this street have been expressing soul-exciting synergies of greens and oranges -- contrasting wavelength mergings and emergings, stirring my self-questioning. What fun and innovation am I mixing up today within the branches of this universal tree?
Next, I blur my vision on purpose and imagine the darker russet leaves hanging onto taller oaks a few blocks away are spirit-crewed fleets of enchanted wooden sail-ships ganging up -- nearly ready for voyaging, just awaiting sudden favorable wind shifts, to soar and explore new or old, huge or tiny mysteries, dispersing anew on daring, singular, momentary death in life or life in death missions.