"Hope" is the name we gave our tree when we first picked it out at the tree farm, as in "Hope this poor thing lives!". It is a red oak tree, not a far West Texas native, but we fell in love with pictures of its pale green spring and burning fall foliage. The tree farm owner explained to us that the tree would probably drown out here in dry West Texas. Drown? How can this be? Turns out that to plant its roots deep enough, the tree farmer would come to our front yard, jackhammer a bowl in the hard caliche rock that lies under our shallow topsoil, and put in the tree. As the tree is watered, the water collects into the caliche bowl and doesn't drain, and essentially drowns the tree.
Well, we wanted it anyway. We promised to be extra-vigilant and careful with the watering and would report the first signs of tree trouble to the farmer. Six years have passed, and, with actually NO apologies to Jesse Jackson, Hope is alive! And growing well. I guess nobody told it about its dire prognosis and its roots have gone deep into the unforgiving caliche and the fertilizer and water we give it have been sufficient so far. I just love seeing Hope in her fall ball gown. =)
