Oak Moon*

Live thy Life,
Young and old,
Like yon oak,
Bright in spring,
Living gold;

Summer-rich
Then; and then
Autumn-changed
Soberer-hued
Gold again.

All his leaves
Fall'n at length,
Look, he stands,
Trunk and bough
Naked strength.
- The Oak by Alfred Lord Tennyson

We are now in the month of the Oak Moon. The oak tree that stands in our neighbor’s front yard has shed all its leaves (too late for the last of our county leaf pick-ups) and its bare branches reach to the sky. Our front lawn is still littered with acorns and the squirrels are busy stocking their winter stores. Oaks are endangered in our neighborhood, they are all suffering from a vascular disease that slowly strangles the tree, limb by limb. The oak next our garage is almost dead. It was scheduled to be taken down this year but the county ran out of funds before they got to it. We may lose it this winter to heavy snow or next summer to the tree surgeon. Either way, its days are numbered. I’m hoping I can recover a mostly healthy limb when it finally comes down to make a wand.

I have always loved oak trees. They are sacred to My Lady and to at least one of the Gods in my personal pantheon. And, I suppose, there is a mystery about them. I grew up with a yard full of locusts and silver maples, but I longed for just one oak. To have deep brown leaves fall in the autumn to mix with the golden yellow of the other trees. I was so happy when we moved to our current house and there were oaks all around. I’ve always felt the Oak was the King of Trees, to stand beside the Willow as the Queen. My own tree sign** is Coll, the Hazel, but we don’t have any in the area we live in and despite its legendary wisdom, it’s never really called to me.

To me the oak has always stood for power. It’s a warrior tree in my mind and a magic tree too. Its Celtic name, Duir, means door and there are legends that the oak was a doorway to the underworld or other world. Mistletoe, the Druid’s most sacred plant, grew on oaks and made them truly special. What is more appealing than the image a tiny faerie crowned with an acorn cap? There is such hidden power in the Oak, if we only remembered how to tap it.

I’ll be sad to see our oak go, even though I can never really remember it being a healthy tree. When we finally lose it, it will be the end of an era. Maybe our oak’s passing is a symbol of a part of my life passing and when it finally falls, it will be a doorway that opens on the next journey. The county will require us to replace the tree once it’s been removed. Perhaps we should put a hazel in instead...









*This moon name comes from the English Medieval naming tradition and I have chosen it because I connect this month with the rise of the Oak King. Other common names are Christmas Moon, Snow Moon and Long Night Moon.

**The Celts used a memory system related to trees which in modern times has become associated with a zodiac of tree months, thanks in large part to Robert Graves, who connected the “Tree Alphabet” to Ogham script.