I have ridged, reddish-gray bark leathery leaves with pointed lobes stubborn, searching roots and, if I do say so myself, the best fall color on the street. In my neighborhood alone, hundreds upon hundreds of us are weaving our roots into the soil like knitters on a mission. Red oaks are one of the most common trees in North America. I am proud to say that I’m a northern red oak, also known as Quercus rubra. Maybe we’ve met? Oak tree near the elementary school? Big, but not too? Sweet shade in the summer, fine color in the fall? Nonetheless, if you find yourself standing near a particularly friendly-looking tree on a particularly lucky-feeling day, it can’t hurt to listen up.Īnd if all you hear is the whisper of leaves, don’t worry. They probably don’t know that trees can talk. Perhaps you’re wondering why the fact that trees talk wasn’t covered in science class, during those Mother Nature Is Our Friend lessons.ĭon’t blame your teachers. The next minute you’re turning us into tables and tongue depressors. Trees have a rather complicated relationship with people, after all. So do we ever talk to people? Actually talk, that most people-y of people skills? There’s that sycamore down at the corner.

We talk to flashy butterflies and bashful moths.īirds? They’re delightful. Trees do talk to some folks, the ones we know we can trust. Photosynthesize.Īnd just try to get a tree to tell a good joke.

That’s not to say we can’t do amazing things, things you’ll probably never do.Ĭradle downy owlets.

Wishtree book