Some years ago, a forgetful squirrel buried an acorn in a patch of soil near our back door. At first, I thought it was just a weed, and was about to pull it out when I realised it was actually an oak sapling. Just a spindly little thing, with two huge oak leaves weighing it down, but a mighty oak in the making nevertheless.
He—for it is a male, as far as I am concerned—has grown in stature. He doesn’t get watered, but does get a dose of mulch from time to time. I am convinced he has put on nearly a metre in height just this year alone. I guess we can put that down to the early warm spring, soggy summer, and another dose of mulch.
We think he’s strong enough now that we can transplant him into the woodland behind us. He obviously can’t remain so close to the house, though it may be many decades before he becomes a nuisance. Still, once he’s properly dormant in the dead of winter, we’ll shift him somewhere more commodious.
I’d like to think I will be able to go and visit as the years roll by, but I doubt I will recognise My First Oak Tree™ after a while. He surely won’t remember me. Who knows? Perhaps one day a forgetful squirrel will lose one of my tree’s acorns in someone else’s garden.