The limestone cliffs on Highway 165 near Table Rock Mountain tower above the road and above the lake which flows, ribbon-like, far below. Brief afternoon sun highlights the bluff, etching ancient karst rock in warm relief. Cathedral walls in nature are easy enough to overlook on a busy schedule — just another rock cliff, just another bunch of trees, just the lake below. Even here, in the miracle of space and air and stone and life, the mind reduces the experience to the mundane — shopping...

A lemon sky gathers, clouds a distant tangerine smudge where the sun is setting on the far western horizon, somewhere over Oklahoma it seems, and the ribbon road is again endless, east versus west, time over and again. The forest ridges tumble away on all sides, faceless, nameless to the 80-mph-travelers on I-44, forest ridges that were not long ago crimson and rust-red, before then, dusky green and thick in the summer heat, now, hazel and gray, umber and dead.   These passing miles are good...

Oaks are known for strength, but it takes more than just strength to weather the storms of this old world.