Poly Mountain Oak Grove

I’m at the point this week where I can’t give much thought to nature or ecoliterature. So tired! Six, four, five, and six hours of sleep for the past nights. I could be comfortable at home in bed, or out her in the oak grove, and it makes little different; the one thought on my mind is peaceful, uninterrupted, lengthy slumber. Now let’s see if I can’t salvage this terribly un-ecolit journal entry.

The oak trees sprawl overhead in a gnarled maze, blocking the warmth of the sun from the cool enclosure below. Crunching, brittle, dry leaves litter the ground in a blanket of autumn. The leaf covered ground seems out of place with spring in full swing, but the does have a feel of separation from the world. It’s barely visible from below, and more extensive than I thought possible from the little that could be seen. The natural structure formed overhead brings to mind the Wendell Berry’s poem “The Timbered Choir”, and I imagine he was thinking of a similar grove when he wrote it.

Cool air blows constantly across the bare skin of my arms and face, and I wish I brought a sweatshirt. San Luis Obispo’s moderate climate is both a curse and a blessing, depending on the circumstances of when you ask my opinion. Right now I want to be sprawled out in the hot sun, skin absorbing the rays, eyes closed, and I drift off into blissful nothingness.