The Oak Grove

I first came upon the Oak Grove in the winter of my Freshman year. The air was thoroughly chilled and I desperately needed some air and a study break during a weekend grind, so I decided to explore some of the areas of campus I had not yet acquainted myself with. I had gone that way to inspect Kenarden, a building that I thought looked like a castle. After a thorough examination of the living space and getting lost multiple times, I headed down the brick path towards Kauke, stopping along the way to read the stone pillar at the entrance of the Oak Grove.
I was startled at what I found. I’m not sure what I was expecting, probably an engraving of dedication and gratitude to one of the school’s many donors, or a marker of a special tree dedicated by a graduating class. But rather than formalities I discovered a phrase that both at the time and still even now quite frankly creeps me out: “…” As I continued to roam the small area and admire the old growth trees the creepiness only intensified, especially considering that the sun was now falling to a brisk, late-November dusk. But it may be that exact creepiness that has left me so infatuated with the Oak Grove. It is now one of my favorite locations on campus, and I find myself there often, rereading the stones and speaking to the wise, old growth oaks.