My maternal grandparent's farm was reached by turning of a back country road to a narrow dirt road which went down a hill, across a marshy area and then up to the top of a hill that was called "Dutch Hill". The hill got its name because my great grandparents were Mohawk Valley Dutch who had moved on to Oswego County to start their own farm. They called it "Twelve Oaks Farm" from the huge oak trees near were they built their farm house and barns. There were some fields and pastures surrounding the buildings and the whole thing was encircled by forest. This farm was very isolated.
From a small child's point of view the oak trees were very very BIG and very very OLD. The first branches were high above my head. From one of those high branches hung the longest swing I have ever seen. After a lot of "pumping" one could get a very long "swing".
When my grandparents needed to "retire" and leave the farm, my Daddy and I went looking for a seedling. I remember that part of the acorn was still attacahed to the one he choose. We carefully dug it out of the ground, lovingly carried it to our own front yard and planted it there. I grew up with that tree knowing how much it meant to my father.