Even then, not "all" of us would come away with the gold!

I just wonder what it is exactly that people who are attracted to a forum called "Garden Writers" expect, platitudes, a nice read or a contribution a bit of banter, an exchange of ideas?

Perhaps some of us are pushing too hard? I was reminded today of one of my favorite John Steinbeck passages (Cannery Row) which, I believe, has some bearing on writing about gardens:

"How can the . . . . the quality of light, the tone, the habit and the dream -- be set down alive? When you collect marine mammals there are certain flat worms so delicate that they are almost impossible to capture whole, for they break and tater under the touch. You must let them ooze and crawl under their own will onto a knife blade and then lift them gently into your bottle of sea water. And perhaps that might be the way to write this book -- to open the page and let the stories crawl in by themselves."

We have an "Olympics" per se in the Live Oak Society. The largest registered oak gets the Gold Medal and the title of President. The first president was the "Locke Breaux Oak" in Taft, LA. He was a magnificent ancient oak who probably saw the first European settlers arrive and who probably hosted many native Indians in his shade. Unfortunately, he was killed by air and ground water pollution from chemical industry which arrived on the Mississippi River banks in the 1960's.
The current president, who replaced Locke Breaux, is a grand lady, "Seven Sisters Oak" located on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain in Lewisburg, LA. Her waistline is 38 feet in girth.
We have over 4,775 live oaks registered in 14 states. Oddly enough the majority of them are sponsored by men who are vying for "the gold medal." If you would like to see some of them go to www.louisianagardenclubs.org and click on Live Oak Society. There is a Picture page with the current officers and a few other ancient oaks with some historical background given. A complete registry is also listed and updated often.

In an Olympian context I wonder what 'pushing too hard' can mean. I understand what Steinbeck means and that a writer can only serve as the conduit to experienece but I also feel that he was against the secret society of knowing. The Olympics as they now stand is a grandstand of 'show us what you can do" and an invitation to push it as hard as you can.

What superiority?

A figment of an over-stimulated but ill-disciplined imagination, I guess.

There is no superiority, there is only the constant battle to hold ground, to be lost once the struggle is given up.
In my yard, the sheer number of silver maple seedlings that pop up each year gives a hint at what plans Mother Nature has for this property.

I think the answer is changing one's perception of what the goal is. I look at my garden as an attempt at convincing mother nature to allow me my garden if I share. If I do my part. She allows me to plant some perennials and I allow her to decide if it will take over the entire garden or if it will stay nicely put.

I am not always pleased by her decisions. I would have preferred the dusty miller stay put and provide a spash of contrast intead of becomming the river of grey it is, running its course through 'our' garden. I am also not fond of her decision to refuse to let me grow lupines, but i love the battalion of golden daylillies she lets trumpet in the arrival of summer.

The gold is fleeting, whether daylillies or an award for running the quickest. Mother nature eventually takes them both.

How did liveoaklady determine that one of the oaks she talks about is a "he", and the other a "she"? Do you turn them upside down, or what?

You have to raise the bark up and look to determine sex of oaks, that or you can just go by the one that has the biggest acorns.

It is difficult for me to comment on the efficacy of a disciplined imagination because a bird in a cage may be the closest some people get to free flight.
In spite of that however, Poppa seems to have grasped my over stimulated point. The idea that "The gold is fleeting, whether daylillies or an award for running the quickest" is poetry. Poetry is not a discipline represented at the olympics simply because it is about sharing and not about competition. Big John is the only poet I know on steroids!

Strictly something of my own summation! If the trunk is thick, gnarled and twisted I usually surmise that the oak is a "he". If the trunk is graceful and airy I think it is a "she". Our Live Oak Society website at www.louisianagardenclubs.org (and click on Live Oak Society) has several photos of our current president whom I think is a "she". Oddly enough, her name is The Seven Sisters Oak. Our Picture Page also has photos of some of our grand oaks. Old Dickory is another one that I think is a "he."