Today was white and silent and offered time to think. Walking on the Lakeshore Path on campus I watched as students walked past over Lake Mendota ice. Breezes ruffled the remaining leaves on a few red oaks. I stopped to think about all of the sights and sounds these slow growing sentinels have seen and heard over the years. Oaks are a stubborn sort - hanging on to their leaves through the winter, acting as a bridge from one growing season to another. This tree knows what Picnic Point looks like in all lighting conditions, weather, and seasonal variety. I appreciate that wisdom, in a tree.
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