The first acorn of the season fell this morning. It sounded like a pistol shot as it slammed into the deck outside my door. I looked up just in time to see the crown go rolling one way and the body another.
Our house is surrounded by massive old oak trees dating back to the 1800’s. Some years they drop huge amounts of big, fat acorns. Other years, there is just a smattering of small, undernourished looking things. A hungry squirrel could fit a dozen or more of them in its cheeks.
I have been making an anecdotal, unscientific study of acorns. My observations show that in the years when lots of acorns fall, the winters tend to be relatively mild. But the years with just a few acorns are long and cold. That makes no sense to me. Mother Nature should give the squirrels and chipmunks lots of food to help them get through harsh weather, not the other way around. Perhaps she has a perverse sense of humor?
Hearing that acorn hit the deck this morning so early in the season told me that we will have an abundance of them this fall, which means there’s a mild winter ahead. That’s good news because last winter had half the population of New England wanting to sell the family home and move to Florida.
Acorns also mean it will soon be foliage time here on the lake. We used to take rides in the fall to the Berkshires and Woodstock, Vermont to see the foliage. Then we realized we could stay home and see Nature’s riot of harvest colors right outside our windows. Next to summer, foliage season is my favorite time of year. And it’s almost here.
An acorn told me so.