The following is a passage from my book..THE ERSTWHILE ACORN… in progress.

I am one who profoundly admires trees. In my opinion, every tree has it’s own personal story, spirit, and soul.

Being an artist, when I encounter tree branches, I admire the lines, curves, curls, and twisting limbs. I engage the setting behind the tree, and admire the framed picture it creates.

As I sit on our big country porch, I view the huge, succulent, Burr Oak that resides in our barn lot. It has stood on our farm for 350 years, as a monument to those who nurtured this land before us.

Indians roamed our acreage centuries ago. As Mr. Moo Cow plowed the fields over the last 45 years, many artifacts have been discovered. They resonate as proof of our former land dwellers.

Recently, we were going through farm deeds, maps etc. As of Feb. 2017, we are a Century Farm. However, we have records on the land back to 1823. In that year, President Andrew Jackson, deeded the land to two men for military service, from either the Revolutionary War, or The War of 1812.

In 1885, Mr. Graham bought the land, and built the homestead in 1890. Years ago, I had met his 90 yr. old niece. She informed me that she was married in our front parlor in 1911.

The farm was sold to a Mr. Long. He in turn, sold it to my husband’s grandfather, Pat Conway in 1917.

My Burr Oak….. It stands as a symbol of faith, and the lives of two young kids, building a life together. God has given it to me as a symbol of my becoming.

Years ago, I remember questioning Col. Grandpa. “Can you imagine what that tree has seen in its 350 years? Someday that tree will tell a story.” Grandpa’s answer: ”For what it’s worth, my Dear, entitled it THE ERSTWHILE ACORN.

LITTLE DID I KNOW ….that it would be about me.