The acorn doesn’t fall very far from the tree, the old saying goes. And best I can figure, it probably has had two meanings:
Like father, like son (or daughter). Blood runs true.
And, in an earlier time, perhaps it meant that families tended to cluster together, at least loosely, and over time, build to become a kind of kindred tribe.
Well I don’t know about the first meaning. It’s too early to tell if any of the First genes by way of our daughter will manifest in the appearance of little Taryn born a week ago, our second grand daughter. And later, for good or ill, we may see some of her momma’s personality coming through in the attitudes and aptitudes of this little acorn.
I do know this fruit fell more than a thousand miles away from both scions of the tree–on Goose Creek and in Cullowhee NC. The paternal g-parents just returned from South Dakota. We’ll be heading out that way very soon. And you can be sure there will be pictures. Little Abby shares the viewfinder now with a newer member of the tribe.
And someday–can it be?–we’ll have one tiny girl playing in the creek here with an elderly Tsuga, admired by her teenage sister, doted upon by her Grannie Annie, and photographed by her decrepit old Grampa Grumpy (who Taryn may also refer to as “the Dumpster” just like her older sister does.)
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Congratulations! What a beautiful baby!
How very special, Fred. Congratulations!
Congratulations, Double-Dumpa!
Absolutely gorgeous
Now I know who to send Garrison Keillor’s poetry selection to! I just read it & knew it was meant for someone with a new daughter (or grandaughter, as the case may be).
SUNDAY, 23 SEPTEMBER, 2007
Listen (RealAudio) | How to listen
Poem: “My Daughter’s Morning” by David Swanger from Wayne’s College of Beauty. © BkMk Press, 2006. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)
My Daughter’s Morning
My daughter’s morning streams
over me like a gang of butterflies
as I, sour-mouthed and not ready
for the accidents I expect
of my day, greet her early:
her sparkle is as the edge of new
ice on leafed pools, while I
am soggy, tepid; old toast.
Yet I am the first version
of later princes; for all my blear
and bluish jowl I am welcomed
as though the plastic bottle
I hold were a torch and
my robe not balding terry.
For her I bring the day; warm
milk, new diaper, escapades;
she lowers all bridges and
sings to me most beautifully
in her own language while
I fumble with safety pins.
I am not made young
by my daughter’s mornings;
I age relentlessly.
Yet I am made to marvel
at the durability of newness
and the beauty of my new one.
many congratulations, dumpa!
Fred — She’s beautiful! Congratulations, Grannie and Grampa, and best wishes and welcome to Taryn.
Special from the beginning…ever more precious as the days speed by…blessings on your new grandchild!
what a lovely gift to add to the other First acorns…
It bears such precious fruit.
A beautiful new grand-daughter…….Congratulations fred & Ann………