Thinkingdog Publishing

If you’ve ever seen one of my videos, you might’ve caught a glimpse—just a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of moment—of a massive old hickory tree standing like a stoic sentry in the park near my house. It’s an absolute beast of a tree. Towering. Majestic. With a trunk so wide it splits into two at the bottom like it’s got a dramatic flair for posing. This tree is old, scarred, and—dare I say it—glorious. Naturally, I became obsessed. I mean, who doesn’t fall in love with an elderly tree that looks like it’s been through several wars and come out the other side throwing shade (literally and figuratively)? Two autumns ago, while others were sipping pumpkin lattes and posting selfies with cinnamon sticks, I was crawling around on my hands and knees in the dirt, collecting hickory nuts like some sort of deranged woodland creature. But not just any nuts—oh no. I carefully selected only the viable ones. (I even did a float test in water, because yes, I am that person now.) Then came the c...