ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE our emblem, the pretty and ubiquitous poplar leaf. What better motif than a leaf for a publication aspiring to help people make the most of their country lifestyle? It's on our cover as a jaunty accent over the "I" in our "flag," which is magazine jargon for the printed title, Acreage Life. Our first, patriotic thought was the maple leaf. As it happens, though, this national symbol is not prevalent from coast to coast. Poplar trees are more common in our distribution area, from Ontario to British Columbia. In fact, the poplar is renowned as North America's most abundant tree. Having adopted the poplar leaf, we had more ideas for it. We're using it to signify the end of each feature story. (Don't you hate it when you're uncertain you've come to the end of a magazine article, and you flip around to see if there's more?) In magazine speak, that little symbol is called a dingbat. And yes, we instructed the exasperated designer, the leaf dingbat had to appear in these places at the same breezy, looking-forward angle, although a vertical format would take up less space on the page. Since Acreage Life anticipates the seasonal needs and interests of acreage owners, our dingbat leaf changes colour. Our debut issue, emerging in April along with spring, featured lime green leaves throughout. The leaves are a deeper green in this summer issue. In September ... well, you'll just have to wait and see. Having done some research on the poplar family recently, I can tell you the choice of this leaf as our symbol was serendipitous: it suits us beautifully. Its Latin name, Populus (people), refers to the practice of planting poplars in city squares. You seldom see one poplar; they like group dynamics. Our convivial magazine is a virtual gathering place for acreage people. Poplar groves provide wildlife habitat, too, and fostering an appreciation for nature is one focus of Acreage Life. Heart-shaped poplar leaves, bursting forth in bluffs on a sunny afternoon, herald spring. The leaf stems of aspen poplars are especially long, so the leaves shimmer and whisper in the breeze. Aboriginals knew aspens as "talkative" trees, and we're communicators, too. Some poplar varieties produce quantities of fluffy pollen that blow across the land. Under proper conditions, the poplar fluff produces seedlings. Similarly, Acreage Life is spreading across the countryside. We're dispersing information and ideas, trusting they will fall on fertile ground. The poplar's vigourous root system makes it unsuitable for urban yards, but great for acreages. Saplings springing from the roots are clones of the parent. An enormous stand of poplar in Salt Lake City may well be the largest life form on the planet. Meanwhile, Acreage Life is solidly rooted in its 82-year-old parent company, The Western Producer. The magazine strives to be entertaining and practical, and the hardy poplar is a useful tree. It grows quickly, stands tall, and is a staple of the pulp and paper industry. The paper now in your hands may well have poplar content. A reader claimed taking an Aspirin and browsing through the first issue of Acreage Life cured her headache. How fitting, since the active ingredient in this time-honoured pain reliever is extracted from aspen bark. As to poplar's relatively short life span, you can extend a metaphor only so far. Besides, 80 to 100 years may not be long for a tree, but it's a good healthy run for a magazine. Henceforth, I'll be scrutinizing our boldly printed pull-out quotes. Errors seem to gather there as if drawn by powerful magnets. Take the typo, pulled out and writ large in my first column, incorrectly defining an acre. It should be 43,560 square feet. Those who've been frantically pacing off their properties and coming up short can relax! Take an Aspirin!