2015 is very tiny and unassuming, but it’s there inside those acorn cups, which will ripen and drop next fall. then, in 2035, i’ll be 70 years old, and one of these acorns might very well be a mature pin oak, dropping its first generation of offspring onto the trail i walked today. i hope to be striding briskly that day, crunching a few of those youngsters under the aggressive tread of my fashionable cushioned sneakers.

baby acorns

rice creek regional trail, saint paul,  minnesota