Day 265: Weed Free - See Tree

Face the crud at the bottom of the garden.  Trellis and fence choked with dead climbers, killed by successive Arctic winters.  Earth colonised by bindweed and snails and spiders with tiny peppercorn bodies and long delicate legs.  The skeletal remains of shrubs-gone-by still bear faded plastic tags, announcing what they were in life. 

But under the sticks and the leaf mould and the snail shells, there is some surprising green.  A tiny oak sapling - about four inches high, but with three unmistakable oaky leaves.  There are no oaks nearby.  But there are squirrels.  I can only think that this is the result of a forgotten buried horde. 

 Mighty oaks from little acorns grow. 

But first they are tiny.