A tree refuses to drop its leaves, to join all else in suffering winter’s indignities. Is this what makes a tree an oak?
Its cloud of bronze leaves defines a world all its own, different from that of its ilk, and delicately defiant of its urban setting.
Contrary to expert predictions, the foliage was spectacular in the Midwest this autumn. Particularly notable were the leaves of the oaks (which have yet to fall in many cases), hanging in thick leathery swathes of maroon and rust, their stands spangled with the brighter tones of sassafras, maple, and beech.