Cottage Ornee

The view from my bedroom window on January 27, 2012.

White Birch and Green Conifers

Ice is heavy.

Iced branches

And to think I was planning to collect forsythia branches to force today.

Yellow Birch

View from the Welcoming Platform. I have photographed this tree in every season and every weather. It is always beautiful.

Snowy stream 1-25-12

Temperatures hover at 32 degrees and the stream keeps flowing.

The winter garden can be a challenge for gardeners, but today I am looking at the trees in my landscape. Two are particularly important to me. Right next to the Cottage Ornee is an ancient apple tree. Even when we first moved here over the 30 years ago, the tree had been damaged. The main trunk had begun to rot and to hollow out. By the time we had young grandsons there was enough room to allow them to slide down the interior of the trunk from the tree house to the ground. I want you to know we did not encourage this pasttime, but their mischief did not seem to damage the tree.

Over the years it has lost two great sections to ice. Again and again we thought irreparable damage was being done, but the apple tree carries on, blooming every spring, dropping immature fruit on the metal roof of the Cottage all summer and giving me enough apples for applesauce every fall. In the winter it is a veritable sculpture.

The other tree stands alone in a field to the west of the house. This is an old yellow birch, with a graceful spreading shape. This tree is noble  in every season and every weather. I have taken hundreds of photos of it veiled with the earliest spring green, throwing deep shade in summer, nearly hidden in autumnal mists, and a crystal vision, encased in winter’s ice and frost.

October 18, 2011

We have planted trees for our daughters and grandchildren. For the girls we chose lindens (Tilia cordata) but they have not faired well. Only our daughter Diane’s linden, and her daughter Caitlin’s remain, both have suffered greatly, but so far these two are surviving. I enjoy lime flower tea which is actually made of linden flowers. Every winter I promise myself I will harvest the small fragrant linden flowers but so far I have not done so. Next spring I am sure I will absolutely pay attention to bloom and harvest time.

We planted gingko trees in the Lawn Beds for our five grandsons, in their honor, but also in memory of our China sojourns. One of the five trees did not last long, but the other four have done well over the past 13 years. The boys are growing tall, but not as tall as their trees. Those trees do remind us of how quickly time passes, and how brief is childhood.

People always ask me about the foul smelling fruit ginkgos produce. We have not had to worry about this, and probably never will. First you need to have male and female ginkgos; at the moment we do not know the sex of our trees. In addition, the female trees do not bloom or produce fruit until they are mature, which we think will be sometime after our time on this earth.

Recently I wrote about the Harvard Forest. Since then I have been paying more attention to my own woodland. At the edge of our west field is a white pine woods. I knew that the pines had crept east into a southern slope that is not really visible from the house, but all of a sudden I realize that the pines are also creeping east and north. Soon I will have an ever larger ‘old field white pine’ forest.

After getting snowed in a couple of times during our early days at the end of the road we took the advice of our elderly neighbor Mabel Vreeland and planted a snowbreak along the road. The oldest of those trees, mostly white pine, but with a few Scotch pine and balsams, are now over 25 years old. We admire them from our dining table window, and give thanks for them all winter long. The road crew appreciates them too. No longer do winters snows drift six feet deep over the road.

We purposely over planted so that we would be able to take out our Christmas tree every year. This has resulted in some Charlie Brown Christmas trees, but we think ours all have an inner beauty, even if it is not apparent to others.

I think trees are an important part of our domestic landscape. They can offer shelter and food for birds, cooling shade for our house in summer, and protection from the wind in winter. It just takes a little planning.

What about the trees in your landscape? Do you have a grove? A ribbon of trees between your and your neighbor? Do you have a magnificent specimen? Do your trees carry you back in memory, and into thoughts of a hopeful future?

Will you plant a special tree in 2012? Many trees grow faster than you think, but don’t put off planting your tree. Plant memories and hope this year.

Between the Rows   December 17, 2011

December 21, 2011

December 21, 2011

December 23, 2011

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One view of our 2011 Christmas tree

We have had many different kinds of Christmas trees over the years. Below is a column I wrote in 2005 that chronicles our history in Christmas trees.

Many family Christmas memories revolve around the Christmas tree. These stories rarely have to do with the magnificence of the tree. In fact, Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree may be our culture’s most famous Christmas tree, standing for the true meaning of the season.

We have many family stories about our Christmas trees beginning with our first Christmas in Greenfield in 1971.  I was a single mother of five children when I came to town. Our life had changed and so had many of the family routines and rituals.

As a gift, a new friend invited me and the children out to the Heath wilderness (as yet totally unknown to us) for a picturesque outing to cut down our own tree. There had been snow and frigid weather, but that afternoon was relatively warm and sunny, a perfect day for a holiday outing.  The boys had disappeared, but the three girls aged 7, 9, and 10, and I set off with our friend caroling and laughing.

We got to Heath and started trekking through the woods. Unfortunately, though our friend was kind, he didn’t know much about Christmas trees, or even about the woodlot he drove us to. We found nothing resembling our fantasy Christmas tree. Even worse, the sun had softened the snow crust and the going was hard.  Kathy, at 7, was floundering and falling in the deep snow. Everyone was getting colder and wetter as the sun hid itself.  I decided that the next tree we saw would be the perfect tree. No arguments allowed. We cut it down, dragged it out to the road, and lashed it to the car. The car heater conked out and we were exhausted. There were no carols or happy chatter on the way home.

Happily, Henry, the man I had recently met and  would eventually marry, met us at the door. While I got the girls into hot baths and their warm nighties, Henry set up the tree. The trunk was crooked and it took lots of  guy wiring to hold it stable. The sparse branches started to drop their needles almost immediately and my two sons just hooted in derision when they finally made their appearance.

I said the tree gave us lots of scope for ornaments. Unfortunately, somehow, in the move from Connecticut, all the Christmas ornaments disappeared, including all those my children had made in school over the years. There was no money for a treeful of ornaments, so we all sat around the table to make lots of big construction paper decorations, some of which still go on the tree every year.

Better angled view of this year's tree

That was our first Christmas tree with Henry. In 1975 we moved to New York City to live in his ancestral apartment. One year there we had a magical tree. A friend came in with presents and an angel he had made for the tree top. He gave it a casual toss across the room – and it landed gently, and perfectly, just where it should.

After four years in the city we moved to Heath.  The boys were out on their own so only the three girls made the move with us the day after Thanksgiving.

This time it was easy to cut down our own tree. It was growing right in front of the kitchen window, blocking the light and the view. It was big and beautiful and shapely. It was also a blue spruce, with stiff branches and the prickliest needles. It nearly killed us to get it cut down and into the house, fighting us every inch of the way.

From our elderly neighbor Mabel Vreeland we learned about snowbelts, and over time we planted a triple row of evergreens, tiny seedlings, purchased from the Conservation Service, along our road.  Our plan was to over -plant so that we could thin the snowbreak by taking out a Christmas tree every year. And that is what we have done. No longer do we trek through unfamiliar woods, but just down over our field. We don’t pay much attention to the snowbelt and sometimes the trees are small, sometimes tall, sometimes quite odd, but we can always say we planted them and grew them ourselves.

This year we have what I think of as a dancing tree. The trunk twists first one way and then the other. The branches go up on one side and down on the other.  If it were a Jules Feiffer cartoon character it would be dancing an ode to the solstice. There is lots of scope for ornaments.

No matter what the Christmas tree looks like – and when we spent a year in Beijing it was a potted osmanthus decorated with shiny ribbon and a handful of sequined ornaments – to me the evergreen tree (even the osmanthus) is the place where we gather with beloved family and friends to celebrate the generosity of the season.  And I don’t refer to all the shopping at the mall, but to the thought and kindnesses that we render each other throughout the season, the care we take of others when we make donations to the Food Bank or Warm the Children, and the prayers we send for peace on earth good will toward men.

This year's tree with an ornamented history of our family

Between the Rows – December 2005

Gray skies 12-6-11

A gray day with gray skies,

Deerfield River

and silver reflections.

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The Pre-colonial woodlands c. 1700

The Harvard Forest is located in Petersham. That is the first thing I learned about the Harvard Forest, which actually belongs to and is cared for by Harvard University. It is not located in the town of Harvard.

I first heard of the Harvard Forest and the Fisher Museum when I met John O’Keefe a year ago after he had retired from his position at the Harvard Forest. Recently I called O’Keefe because I wanted to know why I suddenly seemed to be seeing so many beech trees in our local woodlands. Beeches are easy to identify at this time of the year because they retain their leaves, even as they turn gold, and then brown and crisp. O’Keefe explained that the younger trees are even more likely to hold on to a good portion of their leaves because they are immature and do not yet produce the hormones that cause the leaves to drop.

When I told him that the trees I saw seemed to be pretty much of an age and were growing in groves he said one possibility was that these young trees were not seedlings but root suckers. “Several years ago many beech trees were attacked by beech bark disease. When the bark on the tree was damaged, stress caused the tree’s roots to send up suckers which grow rapidly.” He further explained that not all those root suckers would survive to adulthood, just as not every seed that germinates would survive to adulthood.

In another discussion with O’Keefe a few days later, he said he had been talking with a forester about the forests in Weston. Although there are only three mature beech groves in the Weston forests, this forester had also been impressed by all the ‘new’ beeches growing in the area. He cut isolated saplings in order to age them and found that they were all about 20 to 25 years old. He was so interested in this explosion of beeches that he sent samples to a lab for DNA testing and learned that they were all saplings, growing from seed.

Beech trees, obviously enough, produce beech nuts, sometimes called mast. The nuts should have germinated near the parent trees, but new groves were sprouting in new locations. The theory? Twenty to 25 years ago is when the wild turkey began its resurgence. Perhaps turkeys carried the beech nuts to more distant locations, much as other birds spread various seeds to new areas.

This is how I learn. One thing leads to another. A call to O’Keefe about my observations of  a beech tree explosion led to information about plant disease, plant hormones, propagation by root suckers, and plant dispersal by wildlife.

Having gotten so much information from O’Keefe in just a couple of friendly conversations, I decided to stop in at the Harvard Forest on my way home from Cambridge last week. Harvard University has managed the forest and used it as a research and educational facility for over 100 years. Originally intended as a laboratory to teach sustainable forest management, the focus of research changed after the 1938 hurricane destroyed 70 percent of the forest. Now research concentrates on soils and the ecological processes that affect forest development.

Since I was not ready to go trekking the trails in the forest that day I contented myself with a visit to the Fisher Museum, named for Professor Richard T. Fisher who founded and directed the first years of Harvard Forest. The Museum is small, but it is famous for the 23 dioramas that illustrate the landscape history of the New England woodlands from before the early colonists arrived, as well as issues of forest management and conservation.

John O’Keefe and David Foster have written a fascinating book titled “New England Forest Through Time: Insights from the Harvard Forest Dioramas,” which lays out in substantive form the history of our landscape and illustrates for the general reader, and landowner, new ways of looking at our woodlands and information about how those woodlands can be managed sustainably, with awareness of the ecological impact.

A scavenger hunt sheet will help children focus on the details of the dioramas while they begin to understand the changes in a woodland over time.

There are education programs for students beyond Harvard, from a summer research program for undergraduates from other institutions including community colleges, who need not be science majors, to a program with the Overlook Middle School in Ashburnham where students gather seasonal budburst and color change information from a webcam set up in the schoolyard trees. This Schoolyard Ecology webcam is the first of four more webcams to be installed in other school locations in the near future. The information the young students gather can be compared with webcams in the Harvard Forest. The whole program is part of a national phenology project. The goal is to study the influence of climate on the recurrence of annual phenomena like leaf budding.

Having discovered the Harvard Forest, or more specifically the Fisher Museum, I am now looking forward to visiting the Forest itself, and learning more from the volunteer guides who are on duty during the good weather. We have an old field white pine plantation that is self seeded, and so far those trees have escaped the dreaded white pine weevil. I am looking forward to learning more and becoming a more responsible forest manager.

The first settlements cleared woodlands

Between the Rows  November 26, 2011

DON”T FORGET - I’ll be reading my book, The Roses at the End of the Road, at Boswell’s Books, Sunday, December 4 at 2 pm. Hope to see you there. AND I’ll be signing books at Tower Square in Springfield on Tuesday, December 6 from noon to 2 pm and 4-6 pm next to the splendid Festival of Trees.

ALSO – if you want to win a copy of my book, and a copy of Debra Lee Baldwin’s Succulent Container Gardens, click here and leave a comment. I will have a drawing on Dec. 7 to celebrate my 4th blogoversary.

American beech

This fall I mentioned to my husband that I was amazed at how many beeches there seemed to be in the woods all of a sudden. How had I not noticed all these beeches before when so many of them grew right along the roadside and still retained their leaves when most of the other deciduous trees were bare. I knew that beeches kept many of their leaves until the old leaves were pushed off by new leaves in the spring. I wrote about beeches here last year.

My husband felt the trees I thought were beeches had simply not lost their leaves yet. Other trees that still had foliage, like the young oak trees along the roadside. He said I needed to pay attention to bark and leaf shape.

Young oak

It is true that there are young oaks along the road, but I KNEW all those other trees were beeches.  What do do? I had to prove my point. I remembered a very nice man I had met at the Conway School of Landscape Design last year, John O’Keefe, newly retired from the Harvard Forest in the eastern part of the state and a part of Harvard University. Just the expert to teach me about beeches. He said I was correct and that the beeches I saw growing in grove-like groups were probably caused by root suckers. A few years ago many beeches were afflicted by beech bark disease. The damage done to the tree caused it to produce these root suckers. He said the only tree that looked anything like the American beech (Fagus grandifolia) was the chestnut and we do not have any of those in our area.

American beech leaf and bud

John O’Keefe also said that the pointed bud is distinctive and an easy and positive identifier. The reason the trees don’t lose their leaves in fall is because they are immature, and it takes the action of a special hormone that tells a tree it is time to let the leaves go.  He said the young oaks are holding on to their leaves for the same reason. They are not mature enough to have the necessary hormones.

In my husband’s defense I have to say that halfway through our discussion I began to realize that he was thinking of the European beech (Fagus sylvatica), a magnificent tree that is the tree used for landscape purposes. We used to dine at the Copper Beech Inn and always admired the glorious tree in front of the restaurant.

I’m glad we straightened that issue out to everyone’s satisfaction.

Gingko

This fall we have truly been having a ‘golden season.’ The weather has been relatively mild, if rainy, and the usual flame of the maples was muted.

But a golden glow shone on every sunny day. But today we got rain – and a surprise.

This photo was taken around 4 p.m on Thursday.

October 27 9 p.m.

October 27 10 p.m.

October 28 7:15 a.m.

October 28 7:30 am

And home again.

For more Wordlessness click here.

Seeing Trees

In our part of the world we are surrounded by trees. We are so used to seeing trees that we don’t really look at them anymore. When we do attend to them we see them in their entirety, trunk and an undifferentiated mass of leaves. As autumn approaches some of us pay a little more attention, the flame of maples, the sheen of dark oaks and the gold of birches, but still we are not seeing the whole and complex reality of the tree.

In their book “Seeing Trees: Discover the Extraordinary Secrets of Everyday Trees,” (Timber Press $29.95) Nancy Ross Hugo and photographer Robert Llewwllyn show us the details. They show us what we have been missing. “There is always something to watch when you are paying attention to the intimate details that define tree species and the processes that characterize their life cycles. . . . a practiced tree-watcher knows there are dozens of seasons.’”

I like the conceit of likening tree watching being akin to bird watching. I have never gotten very far as a bird watcher, barely able to distinguish big birds from little birds. Somehow I just can’t see fast enough. Trees have the advantage of standing still. The leaves may dance in the breeze but I can pluck a branch and examine it at close range, noticing the arrangement of leaves on a twig, the form of the leaf, whether the edges are smooth, notched or scalloped, and the tracery of veins.

Even so, Hugo and Llewwllyn show me that I have only noticed the grossest of details. To help and guide me Llewwllyn used a “new form of photography. Using software developed for work with microscopes, he creates sharp close-ups by stitching together 8 to 45 images of each subject – each shot at a different focal point.” I don’t really understand how that works, but I can tell you that the result is a gorgeously illustrated book.

The book begins with advice on viewing strategies and quickly moves on to discussing individual traits, from leaves, to flowers and cones, fruit, buds and leaf scars, and bark and twigs. This is just the beginning of learning a new vocabulary with words like lenticils, breathing pores in bark, or strobili, the gingko’s male reproductive structures. Sometimes a familiar word like ovules which is obviously related to ovary rates a lush description from Hugo: (gingko ovules) have pointed tips and are held atop the cup-like ends of the stalks. To me, this stalk looks like a miniature crutch, the ovules like breasts with nipples angled away from each other.” In every case there are clear and extraordinarily beautiful photographs showing each feature in magnified detail.

I have gingkos in my lawn bed and I am now longing to see strobili and pollination droplets, but I think the odds are against me. When people visit and look at the gingkos they ask how I stand the stink. I’m told that gingkos emit a terrible smell, but I have also been told they don’t do this until they have reached puberty and are capable of producing pollen and making those stinky seeds. As far as I can tell it takes more years for a gingko to reach maturity than I have to worry about. I think I will never see – or smell – the process in my own garden.

Fortunately, Hugo and Llewwllyn have devoted the major part of their book to ten chapters about common trees that most of us have in our own backyards, or possibly local parking lots. In addition to my gingkos I have paid some attention to the American beech in our woodland because I am fascinated by the fact that it holds its dead brown leaves through the winter. Only in the spring do the new leaves push the old leaves off the twig in a process called marcescense. Of course, white pine and red maple grow around our house as well. The sex life of these trees is more visible than I thought. White pines, like all pines, have male and female cones on the same tree. Hugo quotes  a U.S. Department of Agriculture publication from 1899 that described the “purplish rosy lips of the erect pistillate cone (of the white pine)”. What prose!

I am looking forward to seeing the tiny eastern red cedars that I planted this spring as they grow. Apparently I will have to wait for the juvenile  needle-like foliage of my trees to develop the scale-like form that I like so much. I’ll watch closely.

The other five trees they examine are the American sycamore, black walnut, southern magnolia, tulip poplar, and white oak.

Nancy Ross Hugo has taught, lectured and written about trees as well as native plants and design for over thirty years. In this book she gives credit to John Hayden, a biology professor at the University of Richmond and her patient mentor. She had to be careful of her vocabulary too, and the ways she explained the botany to all of us.

It is no surprise to learn that Robert Llewwllyn’s photographs have been featured in major art exhibits, not only botanical books.

I have only one further comment to make about this beautiful and exciting book: the gift giving season will soon be upon us.

Between the Rows   September 24, 2011