“Friday night, Todd told us a story about an aging Emperor who was ready to choose his successor. As a qualifying test, each child in the land was given a seed to care for. After a year, the children reconvened to share their results. All but one presented the Emperor with a healthy plant. When the Ruler announced that he had roasted the seeds, it was obvious that there was only one honest participant. The choice for the throne was clear.
I liked the story but anticipated a different ending. I predicted the child without the plant had saved the seed for the next generation. I often overcomplicate parables, but the resulting ideas amuse me. I thought saving the seed would have been the decision of a great leader, too.
I pondered this idea as I walked along the gravel path that circles the prairies at Big Rock Forest Preserve. It was midmorning and the sun was strong. Fat dragonflies moved constantly, just high enough to tease me, to remind me that I would not be able to photograph them.
Doesn’t every parent want to leave their kids healthy food, water, and shelter? I have been dreaming of a multi-generational home for some time. It seems out of reach, but I haven’t given up on the idea. I thought about this as I photographed the rusty remnants of a windmill. There was a gully littered with deteriorating farm equipment. It was probably at the edge of the property, maybe a farmer’s dump. It was sad but paled in comparison to the dumpsters full of plastic that we produce today. I tried to shake off the sadness. The sun beat down. I felt slow and heavy with the weight of responsibility.
What more can I do? I wondered, overwhelmed; the thought was more of a statement than a question as I followed the trail into an area covered with a thick canopy of trees. The forest was cool and damp; relieved, I sighed deeply. Calm replaced the sadness. This. This is what I want for my kids more than a big house. I want them to be able to wander in Nature, to be sheltered by the trees, and to find answers in the wind. This is what I want for my daughters, I thought as a young woman jogged by, pepper spray in hand, but solo nonetheless. This is what matters, I remembered as I eased into a comfortable rhythm. This.
I moved toward an old quarry that became a lake thanks to torrential rain in the 90s; a fact that brings me great pleasure. I was surprised when I came over a small hill and saw a man stooping and standing repeatedly. He was gathering something in a pair of plastic bags. “Hi! Acorns?” I guessed brightly as I approached this sweaty old guy. “Yes,” he smiled. We chatted a bit about the park. He appeared to be about my age (old) and dressed to work with long sleeves, pants and boots despite the heat (sweaty). I asked a lot of questions. Brian, he’s called. He’s a Steward of the Big Rock Forest Preserve. He was gathering fallen acorns to plant in another area of the park. He holds a work day the first Saturday of each month. He invited me to join them.
We walked to the parking lot, chatting. I told him about my North Country Trail adventures. He and his wife camp in Northern Minnesota with their dogs. We exchanged information. I am happy to be on his email list. When we parted ways, I realized how simply and perfectly so many pieces fell together.
Joyful laughter erupted from my heart.
I stepped out of my car hours ago, considering the needs of future generations and saving seeds. I wandered around long enough to remember that our parks really matter to me. I met this sweaty old guru. He has given me an opportunity to help care for this park on a regular basis with like-minded individuals. One of the jobs? Planting oak trees. Not SAVING seeds, my half-baked idea, but PLANTING seeds. Like the Emperor, but I am pretty sure no one has roasted these.
This. This is magic, pure and simple.