Excerpt from the Diary of an Autumn Oak Tree

by Meg Brodeur '24 on October 20, 2022
Portfolio Co-Editor


photo creds: pixabay

I have sunk into a patch of highly manicured terrain and am leisurely suffocating from the anthropogenic air. Dwelling around me is a plethora of frosty elements, embellishing my dull brittle bark with glimmering crystals. My rough skin serves as a protective barrier against the penetration of snow, sleet, and ice. However, my natural body struggles to contend with the manmade chunks of machinery that constantly zip past me. Thoughtlessly, they disrupt my meditative state and emit harmful fumes into the atmosphere. My roots confine me to a sedentary lifestyle and force me to remain in a perpetual state of observation. Watching from my post, I often notice a universal look of introspection in the eyes of faculty and students. Today, I watch as they scurry past me in a fray of rosy cheeks and frostbitten noses. Their potent anxiety strikes the air, evaporating the peaceful aura of this calm autumn morning. Like armor, I’m wrapped in thick, rough bark from my roots to the ends of my branches. My body is embedded with long vertical scars and islands of mossy refuge. The nooks and indentations along my trunk serve as places of reprieve for tiny woodland creatures. My branches are piers for vigilant birds and watch posts for protective avian mothers. And while all this life scurries around me in a frenzy, my own permanence swells. Unable to run for cover, I drown in the downpour of rain, crystallize in the wake of a blizzard, and split apart during hurricanes. However, the constant turbulence is not without reprieve, and the sunshine feels particularly warm when it’s drying up my leaves after a vicious storm. Lying at my base are twigs and branches that have fallen from my adapting body. I’m constantly losing and regaining pieces of myself to fit the mold of each passing season. Throughout autumn, my vibrant leaves are shed, leaving behind a skeleton held down by inviolable roots. As days become years, my roots stretch out farther and farther into the depths of the soil. Ropes of pliant, vascular tissue pull me towards the Earth’s core. Thus, the unassailable parts of my being remain unobservable to any above-ground onlooker.