The Sacred Harvest Festival where I spent the last week was held in a large grove of bur oak (Quercus macrocarpa) trees, a variety I'd never seen before. Unlike the Louisiana live oak trees I loved when I lived in New Orleans, the bur oaks stand tall and straight, with deciduous leaves that have the classic oak leaf shape I remember from fall illustrations in my first grade reader .
Bur oaks have delicious edible acorns that need no blanching or other preparation. In essence, we picked them up from the ground, peeled them and popped them right into our mouths. No bitterness at all. One of the guys at the festival liked them so much that he whipped up an oaken version of chicken breasts almondine on his camp stove.
We had a full moon during the festival, and the sight of the moon shining through the trees was truly magical. It reminded me of stage sets I've seen for "Swan Lake," and other set-in-a-moonlit-glade ballets. The floor of the grove was dappled with patterns of shade and moonlight.
I also liked to sit and look up at the pattern the leaves made against the sky. I tend to get up very early, so could see the tops of the trees reaching for the dawn light while the rest of the grove was deep in shadow. The festival itself was wonderful, but one of my most special memories will always be these trees. 
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