The Oak.....

This past Saturday we traveled back to the Santa Ynez Valley to attend a wine tasting event at the Roblar Winery located just south of Los Olivos within sight of Hwy 154, the road that descends out of the San Marcos pass and sweeps into the Santa Ynez Valley in a wide arc before staightening out and disappearing into the distant oak-studded hills and valleys. It is a singularly beautiful scene that unfolds before one's eyes, even if summer has withered much of the life from the grasses and wildflowers, though there are still golden poppies showing color in clusters along the side of the road.

The Roblar Winery parking lot was the location of my "afterthought" described in the "Plein Air Wrap-up"
blog. Out the back end of the tasting room is a beautiful sitting area covered by a roughly-constructed log pergola overgrown with sweet-scented wisteria vines and flowers . Not more than forty yards farther was the first row of vines...one of thousands on the property. After a time, I excused myself and walked back to that row to see just how things were done with the vines....I am always curious about how things are done.

Fortunately, it seems that winery managers and owners are reluctant to remove the oak trees that dot the fields and hills upon which the vines have been planted. I found myself standing under one of these trees after following the course of  that first row of vines for thirty yards or so. The shade of the oak and the cool breezes blowing across the vineyard were soothing, so I decided to enjoy the moment . I was struck by the massiveness of the trunk and as I raised my eyes to follow its line upward where it branched out I was awed by the sinuous strength and the girth of the main limbs. Gnarled and twisted, they supported a canopy of leaves that must have been forty or more yards across. Altogether, I was reminded of some giant Medusa's head... the branches seeming to writhe and coil into the sky like so many serpents.

That oak had been growing long before I was born and will probably be there long after I pass. It predates the vineyard and most of the monuments to human activity in the valley. It is a living thing....but it is not sentient: it does not feel or sense. It is indifferent, if one can ascribe a human attitude to a tree. It has stood by as a sentinel, so to speak, to the passing of many seasons and to the circle of life. Today it shelters a man from the sun while that man looks up to its highest branches and wonders how such dark and rugged beauty can come about naturally. Understanding the oak could live to be several hundred years old, the man wonders at the brief amount of time allotted to him and others. Like the grasses and wildflowers withered by the summer sun, so is his life force withered by time.

The man cools himself for a few minutes, thinking thoughts, and then goes back to his life and to his loves.

He will remember that oak and those few minutes of solitude and wonder, perhaps for the rest of his life.

SRH