In which I dream of planting a little forest

“Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant.” 

Robert Louis Stevenson 

Last September, thanks to the healing properties of time, and with the support of a new medication, I finally had the energy to begin taking walks in town again. I was not ready for hikes up steep mountains yet, but I could manage the tree-lined slopes in our town. At first, I was fascinated to see how many of the homes I was walking past have been renovated since I had last been out and about. Then I began to notice the trees. I ‘discovered’ a massive incense cedar that spanned the front of two houses. I saw pines that were so tall that they seemed to pierce the sky. As fall started to touch our valley with cooler temperatures and longer days, I watched the leaves on the deciduous trees change color, and I delighted in the deep purples, reds, bright golds, yellows, and rusty bronzes. 

   I remember driving up to our farm one day and looking at the empty meadows around the house and the barn. Aside from the areas occupied by the vineyard, some landscaping, and the buildings (our house, the garage, the barn, and the rotunda), most of our land is open meadow. By late fall these meadows are sad looking areas of sunburned grass. We have some ornamental trees around the house and a few fruit trees, but the rest of the land is open.

   At some point in time the land on our side of the valley was cleared of trees to create range land for cattle, and fields for growing hay. Today we still have a few farmers here who raise cattle, sheep, and goats, and grow hay. Other folks, like us, have planted vineyards on their land. Then there are the people who keep horses in their fields. The one thing you don’t see are former fields covered with trees. 

   As I sat in my car looking at our land I remembered the olive terraces in our mountain village in Lebanon, and I decided that I would plant trees on our land. The trees would be native species that could survive our hot and dry summers. They would be species, like Oregon white oaks and black oaks, that would provide food and shelter for our local wildlife. 

   And just like that my reafforestation project began. In the middle of September I began to collect acorns from trees that overhung the streets in Ashland. I read that it is important to gather acorns from the trees, or to find ones that had fallen to the ground very recently. Insects quickly find the acorns that have taken the plunge and bore holes into them. 

   Soon bags of acorns were making their way back to our farm. After doing some research and consulting a local expert, I placed the acorns in bowls of water to see which ones had the potential to germinate. If they floated they had to be discarded because they were either dried out or had been damaged by insects. The ones that sank were placed in containers lined with peat moss and put in the fridge to stratify. This process mimics winter and prepares the acorns for germination. 

   To my surprise in just a month I started to notice that little white roots called radicals, which look like

small cream colored worms, were pushing their way through the acorn shells, seeking out soil to burrow into. What followed was a busy time of planting. I bought nursery grade biodegradable pots, filled them most of the way with a seedling soil mix, placed one acorn with its radical pointing downward on the soil, and then covered it with a mix of seedling soil, growth hormone, and plant food. Finally I topped this with a thin layer of fine bark mulch, which would help keep moisture and warmth in the pot. Then I labeled the pot with the date of collection, the type of oak the acorn came from, and if it had produced a radical or not. 

   For a month of so these pots with their precious cargoes lived in a mini greenhouse that a friend gave me, and then, as more acorns produced radicals, I built another temporary structure fabricated using a plastic shelving unit, tarps, a plastic zip door, and large quantities of duct tape. 

   Then we bought a proper greenhouse. It is not very big and it is basic, but it will serve as a safe home for the baby trees until they are large enough to be planted on our land. Brian and I worked together to build the greenhouse a cedar wood base. I then stapled several layers of heavy duty chicken wire to the underside of this frame so that creatures would be deterred from burrowing under the greenhouse. Then the frame was anchored to the ground using pieces of rebar. I began helping with the construction of the greenhouse but then hit a rough patch health wise. While I was recovering, and without my knowledge, by husband finished building the greenhouse. I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw what he had done. 

   Before I started to set up the interior of the greenhouse I had a load of gravel delivered and lined the floor inside with a thick layer of gravel. It was hard by satisfying work. 

   It was a happy day when I was finally able to set up shelves inside the greenhouse and move the acorn pots inside. By that time I had a collection of other trees that people had given me. They had dug up volunteer trees from their properties and gifted them to me so that the trees could become a part of Marya’s Reafforestation Project. I was so touched by the generosity, and by their interest in what I am trying to do.

   I cannot tell you have much joy I experience every time I step into my greenhouse to check on my baby trees and acorn pots. Some of the acorns have already sent up shoots, and it is only January. These babies will have to wait a year or so before they can go into the ground because I want to give them the best possible change of survival. In the interim Brian and I will set up an irrigation system for them, and have someone auger holes in the ground to plant them in. There is hard sandstone under our thin soil and we have learned that baby trees need some help to get started on our land. 

   I know that I will not live to see my ‘forest’ mature, but that does not bother me too much. I take pleasure in knowing that a green space will be my legacy, and perhaps the acorns from my trees will be carried by jays and ground squirrels to other areas on our hillside where trees once stood. 

Art (top) by Orchard Grove

Art (left) from the book Because of an Acorn written by Lola M. Schaefer and Adam Schaefer, and illustrated by Frann Preston-Gannon