If trees could talk: part one. A small scrubby oak tree less than waist high was given sporadic, sometimes grudging, attention this past year. It is not in a convenient place for watering because of having to lug buckets, and frankly, it isn’t much of a tree to look at either. It is in a place easy to forget and even easier to dismiss entirely. Then came the current year of disgruntled weather. The diminutive oak took it all without complaint: drought, cold, grasshoppers, and multiple hail days. It sprouted new leaves after every damaging event, determined to fulfill its purpose of...