Torquato Tasso was an Italian poet of the Renaissance. His greatest work had some politically-incorrect bits in a day when political incorrectness drew a worse penalty than a raised eyebrow. He had to wait years for the church bureacracy to rule on whether his great poem could be published, and apparently went somewhat nuts while waiting.

His Oak?

Each day the mad old poet would go and sit under a certain oak tree near the Vatican, waiting for a final ruling on his life's work. The oak was lovingly preserved for centuries. Here is a rather poor picture of Tasso's Oak as Marian and I saw it in 1977.

Here is a strong painting of Tasso's Oak by modern surrealist Peter Blume.

Our Oak?

The oak outside our house is much bigger than Tasso's, but not the same species at all. Ours is a Valley Oak (California White Oak).