You surpass yourself my friend. And moreover, in the future I won’t be able to tread on a fallen acorn without summoning your imagery. The squirrels here have an ambition to transform our croquet lawn into an oak woodland, and love trees though I do, I’m forever trying to thwart them. Tiny oak saplings spring up overnight, even though the parent trees themselves are a field away. It’ll only be a matter of time before they succeed. When we are gone and someone less vigilant gardens here, perhaps the squirrels shall have their way. I like that notion. Not ‘The Man Who Planted Trees’, but ‘The Squirrel Who Never Gave Up’!