A Place for a Chinkapin Oak

As a memorial to my Dad, Charles L. Woliver  (5/21/1927-5/9/2017), my dear friends that make up the “Porch Crew” presented me with a gift card to Oakland Nursery.  They knew that I would want to plant a tree in his honor.

As I pondered the type of tree that I wanted to plant, I recalled a story from my childhood and I knew the tree had to be a Chinkapin Oak.

But before we get to the tale, let’s talk about the tree:  Quercus muehlenbergii

“Description:

A stately large-growing shade tree with a rounded outline and wide-spreading habit of growth, distinguished branching habit; best for larger landscapes where it can spread its wings, very tough and adaptable but somewhat slow growing. 

(Photo courtesy of NetPS Plant Finder)

Chinkapin Oak has dark green foliage throughout the season. The serrated narrow leaves turn coppery-bronze in fall. The fruit, an acorn or nut, is borne singly or in pairs, matures in 1 year, and ripens in September or October. The chinquapin oak is especially known for its sweet and palatable acorns. Indeed, the nuts contained inside of the thin shell are among the sweetest of any oak, with an excellent taste even when eaten raw, providing an excellent source of food for both wildlife and people.”

Height:  50 feet

Spread:  60 feet

Sunlight:   

Hardiness Zone:  5a

Other Names:  Yellow Chestnut Oak

          http://plants.oaklandnursery.com/12130001/Plant/379/Chinkapin_Oak

Now for the tale.  When I was about 10 years old, we lived in a lovely little house that my Dad built with the help of a German emigrant and master carpenter, Mr. Capelle.  The house sat about 100 yards off the road at the edge of a patch of woods.

One afternoon, my Papaw, Ernest William Woliver (Ern), showed up with a gift for Dad- a sapling Chinkapin Oak tree that he had dug up from his Tennessee “holler”.  I was intrigued by the word Chinkapin and chuckled at the term thinking that my Papaw had just made up the name.  He and Dad took the tree into our patch of woods and found what they thought would be the ideal spot for successful growth.  Dad treasured his gift and began to feed, water, and nurture it.

The next summer, Dad had to attend a railroad union meeting in Kentucky (he was the Knoxville representative) and he turned over the chore of mowing to a young neighbor.  Upon his return home, the neighbor came by the house to collect his pay.  From afar, Dad looked over the woods, commended the teenager on a job well done, but asked, “Did you have any trouble?”  The young lad answered, “No, except for a tough sapling that I had to mow over several times, and finally had to take out my knife and cut it down.”  I noticed my Dad’s eyes bulge with suspicion and I followed him as he quickly headed to the spot where they had planted the sapling oak.  Upon arrival, Dad grabbed his head and exclaimed, “He has cut down my Chinkapin oak!”  Dad was distraught.

Several years ago, while walking around the Oval on the campus of Ohio State University, I noticed this label on a stately oak tree.

Immediately, the incident popped into my mind, and I fondly recalled the sounds of Papaw and Dad as they spoke the word Chinkapin. 

Now, almost fifty-five years later, on a beautiful summer day, (August 10, 2017) I have the pleasure of overseeing the planting of a Chinkapin Oak that is a memorial to Dad.  

It is my hope that the tree will stand strong against the wind and weather like my Dad did during his nearly 90 years of life.

CPW