I discovered this red oak as a tiny sapling hiding among irises. No doubt, it hoped to avoid death-by-squirrel, while its tasty acorn produced new roots until depleted and was no longer interesting to squirrels. For my part, I protected and nurtured the little oak in place for two seasons, then transplanted it to where it is now. It thrived — grew tall and straight, as red oaks do — now ten years old and roughly forty feet in height (a wild-ass guess or “WAG”), promising to one day challenge and perhaps surpass its nearby older siblings and cousins.  

As its caretaker, there’s something I appreciate about this young oak tree: it’s a survivor, with character and grit, scarred by curious deer who nibbled on its bark as they passed by. Each year, this red oak stands defiant, fully-clothed as its neighbors undress before autumn’s end and winter’s beginning, clinging defiantly to its dry, brown, brittle leaves.  

It is one of the few trees I’ve ever seen in the southern Connecticut — USDA Plant Hardiness Zone 7a on the 2023 climate-change-adjusted map — which waits for its new spring leaves to grow in and push out the old ones from last season…

Subject: An oak tree in winter snow and morning sun
Location: Stamford, CT (Zone 7a)
Camera: SONY Alpha 6500
Film: N/A (digital)
Photographer: Russ Murray