I don't think I wrote about this earlier, but I was reminded about it yesterday, so here goes. When I was in elementary school, someone gave the students dogwood trees, which we could plant. I planted mine next to our driveway near the line dividing our house from the house next door. It was on our side of that property line.
The tree never really blossomed. It just stood there. One lone stem, reaching up about six feet. Some called it an eyesore, but it was my tree. We had another dogwood tree nearby that blossomed every year. My tree just stood there, but it was my tree.
Years later, a yard man from next door cut down my tree. He thought it was on the other side of the property line and thus belonged to my neighbors. I was heartbroken. It wasn't so much that the tree was gone. It never amounted to anything, other than a living tree. It was because it was my tree in my yard. When my parents pointed out the deed to my neighbors, they apologized profusely and offered to get us another tree. I said no. It could never replace my tree.
The moral of this story is that it may have not produced flowers, but it was my tree. Maybe some people need to reflect on what that means.