Of late, my best days are those spent collecting and planting acorns. Some days, other projects, things one might call chores, take precedence, cutting and splitting firewood, as one example. Acorn planting fits into a special category, one that is more satisfying. There are few better excuses than acorn planting to spend a day wandering through the forest. Sometimes I count ten paces between plantings, sometimes I forget to. I intend to work my way in straight lines but often wander off course drawn to openings that are calling for an oak tree. The compass that might keep me on track is forgotten. The acorns go into the ground in pairs because I use a two-pronged lawn aerator to punch holes into the soil. If I had my druthers (a phrase I’ve never had the opportunity to put in print before), I would purchase a Squirrel Acorn Planter made by Lowell Larson and sold by Forestry Suppliers; but between its price and the cost of shipping, the lawn aerator works well enough. It pokes a pair of three-inch-deep holes about a foot apart. In theory an acorn should only be planted about 1 ½ inches deep. Concerned that the acorns end up deeper than they like, I pause after covering them and wish the little things, ‘best of luck’. My dear wife and I have adopted different methods of getting the acorns into the ground. Rena, a former kibbutznik, prefers a simple hoe rather than the aerator. I think the hoe may require more skill, though she makes it look equally efficient.

If I was to really do this right, I would be planting in the fall, not now in the spring. That’s when the YouTube videos say you should. But I’m here, now, last year’s acorns are lying on the ground at the bottom of our neighbor Priscilla’s driveway and are just starting to sprout. So why not now? There are worse things to waste one’s time and energy on. Acorns on the verge of sprouting remind me of chicken eggs about to hatch. Cracks form in the nut’s shell and as these cracks widen, one can spy a bit of pink interior, the naked tiny growing plant embryo about to send its root stalk down into the world. They appear to my anthropomorphic eyes as naked baby things. How can I not pick them up, collect them in shopping bags and take them into the forest hoping to find them good homes?   Theoretically while it might work better to collect acorns in the fall, stratify them over the winter, and plant them the following fall, as I mentioned, I’m here, now.  If lucky, I’ll have trees growing by next fall.