For more than 12 months I had this scrap of paper under a magnet on my fridge. “What’s this?” visitors would ask, and tug at the note covered with my scribbly writing. “Oh, just some random sketchy details about how to find a tree.” “A tree?” “Yeah. You know what I’m like, it’s another tree I’d like to visit.” My obsession has led to thousands of photos, and hundreds of kilometres of travel with sore feet, aching muscles, and even broken bones. But I have a particular fondness for oaks; my beloved Quirkus. I grew up squeezing through this little gap in my hometown to hug the oak inside, and when…