Garry Oak

I maintain a mental Rolodex of trees. I’ve found most of them driving. These days, I no longer have the time to wander up and down dead-end streets, but I once did, and I would explore the city for hours looking for the unusual, the beautiful, the secret parks and concrete eddies where I could stop, smoke a joint, and float.

This tree, I discovered about a decade ago when I rented the attic of a Beach Drive mansion (a strange space I should write about some day). It was the largest Garry Oak I had ever seen, and while writing this post I’ve discovered that, in fact, according to UBC’s records it is BC’s girthiest specimen.

Its diameter at breast height (how they measure) is 1.74 meters or 5′ 8.5″ (coincidentally, my exact height).

If you decide to go look for yourself, take the time to read what is written on the tree’s bark, a story if you like: where branches have fallen, perhaps from disease, in other places cut; scars in the trunk, smooth, almost vitreous (fire?); obtrusions that could be eyes, hieroglyphs, even breasts from which a myth could be constructed; waves crash against each other as rivers join; and within the canyons and darks spaces live insects, spiders, and other creatures; there is here an endless interpretive opportunity, a whole world if you build it.

I’ll return every so often these days to just check-in and see if it still stands not lost to old age or development.

It is an ugly tree in much the same way that we talk about people with character, who have charm, who attract us regardless and because of their soul, and in whose presence their is no questioning of their beauty, but of ourselves, our shallow acceptance of beauty and the uncomfortable urges we now feel: we want them; they attract us.