I was on a walk in my neighborhood several weeks ago and I came to a stop to stare at an oak tree. I can’t really explain why; maybe it was because it at the top of a hill and I needed to catch my breath. Perhaps it’s because things often catch my eye and I pause to take a closer look. In this case it was the way the huge limbs swept up and over my head; a canopy to filter cloud and fog. I snapped a picture and kept walking. A week later my family enjoyed a Sunday morning at the Oakland Museum of California and I spent some time in front of the exhibit about the oak tree. A blog post was born. I have been asked how I come up with what to write about; well there you go. My busy mind got to work. Why is Oakland named after the oak tree? How did it become the symbol of our city? From our garbage cans to our T-shirts; its roots symbolize our civic pride. What started as a momentary stare at an old giant turned into a quest to learn more about Oakland’s beloved oak.
