There is a fine mystery in this black walnut tree. And if I sit silently for long enough, maybe I’ll hear what it is.
I look at her every day before dawn, starting when I can just make her out against the sky. Being near her feels like being near someone who is benevolent, powerful, rich and wise. And somewhat intolerant.
She’s like a queen.
Walnut trees make beautiful, hard, rich brown wood, expensive and much prized. The nuts have a sweet, musky, woods-dirt flavor that reminds me of truffles. They are locked away in a troll’s purse of rock-hard nutshell, and you really, really have to want the nutmeats to do the hammer-and-pick work of shelling them. Just a handful will flavor a pound cake, but it will take you forever to get them, and your fingers can…
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