One of the first trees we planted here was a swamp oak. There’s an open area on the property that is easiest to access by first walking alongside the road. Behind a utility pole, you can duck into the hedge and follow a deer trail into the sucking mud. It’s been so dry this summer, but when we walked back there the other day it was still wet. This area is where we planted the oak. At its base, a mix of native wetland ferns, skunk cabbage, and invasive grasses. Nearby, some red twig dogwood. I think this is the only oak tree on our land. There are two volunteer saplings on the other side of the road that we intend to transplant before the township mows them over.

Recently, I found a few small acorns rolling around in the bottom of a bag. Later, I dreamed of a grown boy leaving home. He and his adopted father pulled up wooden floorboards in their apartment, unearthed a plant the boy had grown there, and replaced it with an oak sapling they’d dug up together.