The Demise of Willow Oak
On a rainy day in February, our nearly 200-year-old Willow Oak came crashing down.
For well over 170 years, Willow Oak had perched on the hill overlooking the Haw River. She had watched the 2-legades (aka people) chop down her sisters, build caves for themselves and even bigger caves for their noisy creatures (aka machines). The noisy creatures rattled and shook and tooted day and night. In the mid 1880’s they spit out cloth for Confederate Army uniforms. But, perhaps her saddest moment was when the 2-legades built a brick cave so tall that she could no longer see her beloved Haw River.
When she was young, she had some patience for these changes. She watched as the gravel road at her feet was paved with asphalt. She watched as wheelies (aka motor vehicles) passed under her branches carrying people and goods. Suddenly in the 1920s the village became quiet. People were having financial problems and Mother Nature was also suffering. Willow Oak watched the drama as the mill owners and products changed. She also saw kindness when the 2-legades planted Red Bud and Dogwood sisters nearby to keep her company.
In recent years Elementary School children were picked up by their par-ents who parked under her branches wheelie motors running. Adult custom-ers visited new businesses and stayed late into the night. Renovation of the other mill buildings meant even more 2-legades and more wheelies. The hill where she had grown up, and lived her whole life, had become a chaotic uproar. During the summer her faithful bird friends no longer nested in her branches, squirrels no longer chased each other up and down her trunk. Even Saxapahaw Sam took a summer leave to get away on Saturdays.
Yes, she knew that the 2-legades had organized to deal with these issues. But it was just taking too long. As she neared her 200th birthday, she became impatient, grouchy and angry as is common with the elderly. “I will stop the noise and the traffic - I will slow things down as they were in quieter times”, She muttered. Her roots were being loosened by the perennial rains. The winds were pulling at her branches. She determined to stop the chaos and noise. So, on that rainy night in February she called on Sister Wind and Sister Rain to help. The three of them lifted her out of the soil, tipped her on her side, threw her across the road and over the brick cave. We will miss you Willow Oak. We are listening and will try to make things better.