Why is a raven like a writing desk?

I arrived at the ranch this past March shortly after the big winter storm that took the state by surprise. There was running water by the time I arrived, and Aunt Vera had kept the donkey Sam Houston alive by breaking through icy water troughs, but the effects of the storm were evident. Most noticeably, the live oaks were all barren of leaves.

Though live oak trees do drop their leaves every year, they drop them at nearly the same time as the new leaves are emerging—a process called leaf exchange—so the tree appears evergreen.

In the early mornings, I would sit on the couch and write as the sky gradually lightened. The outline of the oak trees was the first thing that would come into view, trunk and bare branches silhouetted against the navy-blue sky.

On returning to the ranch this fall, I noticed with surprise that the trees that I’d assumed were live oaks were unmistakably cedar elms, now at the peak of their orange fall foliage.

I had glossed over the difference. It felt like when you wave to someone across the street only to realize you thought they were someone else. Everyone ends up feeling a little awkward. 

Over the next few days as Dory and I ambled up the road on our morning walks, the Mad Hatter’s riddle from Alice in Wonderland kept popping into my head, “why is a raven like a writing desk?” Except the question became “how is a live oak like a cedar elm?”

There are similarities, certainly—the twists and turns of the trunk, the gnarled growth, the relatively rough bark compared with the smooth bark of the persimmon. Mature cedar elms can grow to similar heights as mature live oaks. Ball moss hangs from both—but then again, ball moss can cling to telephone wire, so that’s not saying much.

In Alice in Wonderland, the caterpillar Absolem tells Alice that she’s lost her “muchness,” the thing that makes her Alice. A cedar elm is not a live oak because its leaves are smaller, and rougher than live oaks’ waxy leaves. A cedar elm is not a live oak because its leaves turn yellow and orange and drop from the tree in the fall. Contrariwise, a live oak is not a cedar elm because its bark has deep ravines that look like an enlarged dry elbow, while the cedar elm’s bark is flatter with fewer or no “ravines.” If you ask my dad, a live oak is not a cedar elm because the live oak has a rounder, “cumulous cloud” shape, compared to the cedar elm whose limbs start higher on the trunk.

And still, each tree differs—some cedar elm limbs grow lower to the ground, some live oaks have taller trunks. It’s a reminder to not make assumptions, but instead to be in conversation with our fellow inhabitants of this wonder land—to ask, like Absolem, “Whoooo are youuuuu?”

And then listen.