Yesterday I planted and oak tree, more precisely a quercus robur L. My little sister Luisa would be proud.
But not just any oak tree, a centennial tree, planted in the 100th year comemoration of the portuguese republic, planted on the 18th of April, International Day for Monuments and Sites.
A tree to last at least another 100 years.
A tree to last at least another 100 years.
It's a tiny acorn in a plastic vase which requires special treatment in the next six months: shade and plenty of water. But this isn't just any oak tree, this is my tree, one I intend to transplant later on in my parents fields and mabey, when I am old, carve my name on it and take a nap under it's shade.
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