Subtitled: A Gardener's View of Life
When I looked at the twenty-five foot tall weeping cherry tree, with it's thinly leafed branches twisting through Central Hudson's and Verizon's wires, I remembered the fellow at the nursery telling me: "This is the perfect tree to plant under power lines. It won't get more than ten feet tall." That was thirty years ago. What he didn't know about plants he made up for in salesmanship. Well, he's long gone now. There's no one to blame, but maybe myself for being so gullible. I had to cut that tree down foot by foot, carefully snaking each piece through the lifelines of the house until it could be safely dropped. So much for long-term planning.
There's something sad about cutting down a tree. This massive life-force of nature is not just a storehouse of future energy. In it's prime it was a home to birds, food for honey bees and insects, and a graceful and attractive addition to the landscape. Now it is firewood. I make some small amends for my sin by building a brush pile of the tops. Hopefully, birds and animals will find shelter there. And I save one gnarled branch for a wood worker I know. He'll make a ladle, or some useful something out of the burnished wood. The tree will live on as an ornament, or piece of art. And, of course, in my memory. Now, another must be planted. There is, after all, a balance to maintain.
"It is a free man who plants a tree he will not live to sit under." I've always liked that saying. I think of it as I walk down the nursery rows, with splendid and costly specimens of large trees vying for my approval. Gardeners today can have instant gratification. There is no need to consider future growth. Nurserymen routinely deliver and plant full grown, or nearly so, trees. Of course, that means missing the joy of nurturing and coddling a young sapling; feeding, watering and protecting it through many seasons. How would life be if we got our children that way? Fully grown and formed, instead of shaped by a parent's love and guidance. The spirituality of the connection formed from decades of care cannot be replaced.
So I move on to a row with a size I, and my pocketbook, can more easily handle. As I pass, I recognize many trees from my years of planting. A few, such as the weeping cherry, did not fulfill their early promise. But it wasn't their fault. It was bad planning, or bad advice. Some of the rest, such as the Norway Spruce that now towers 30 feet over the pond, did double duty as Christmas trees before gracing their section of old farmland I call home. One, a weeping version of the big spruce, I called Charlie Brown's Christmas tree. This spindly epitome of Mr Shultz's caricature sat, looking sad and forlorn, through one Holiday season before being planted at the bottom of the lawn. Now it's as big as I am. A child can walk through the bower it forms and be nearly embraced by the graceful branches. Imagine that. I don't necessarily have to live long enough to sit under any of my trees, but I'd sure like to be around to be embraced by one.
Years ago I bought a red-flowering horse chestnut tree during a tour of the coast of Maine. It was only about a foot tall then. It has the most miles of all my trees on it. I packed it in the trunk and we drove on to Canada and back before finally planting it. Now it is a regal tree, over thirty feet tall, but with only a blush of red in the throat of it's white flowers. That is probably the best reason to buy a more mature tree. Switched tags, and unscrupulous, or inexperienced, sales help can leave you disappointed years later, with no recourse. But, at the time it was a rare tree, and nearly impossible to find in any size. I was, and still am, glad to have it.
Did I forget to mention that I collect trees? I guess, then, that I should own up to that now. I've always had a fondness for them. Whenever I find one which, for whatever reason, moves me, I buy it. Some of them are quite rare, or, at least, like my sweet gum, rare in this zone. All of them possess beauty in their own way. And one, or two, are simply drop-dead gorgeous. There is a weeping Japanese maple, with leaves cut so finely it looks like a billowing mound of deep red threads, fully ten feet across and just 4 feet high. It is breathtaking! Then there is a weeping hemlock nearly as big. Each Spring, it's lush new growth is embryonic green, and so soft looking you'd think it's a giant pillow. Both are very slow growing, and at these sizes quite valuable. Of course, they were inexpensive little things in pots when I could afford them. But, with some attention, (and no few years) they are a beautiful asset in the landscape.
Have you every been to Mohonk Mountain House? They have a weeping beech there which is nicer than the one at the Vanderbuilt Mansion. It is the centerpiece of their entrance drive, and huge. What we admire today, they planted over a century ago. I always wanted one myself, but you can overdo the weeping thing in a small landscape. As it is, three dwarf varieties are pushing it in my yard. But I did find and plant two upright beauties. A rare tricolor, and a purple leafed one. I expect both to mature in about a hundred years. Hopefully there will be someone around then to appreciate their beauty, and my forethought.
But, back to my mission. In search of a replacement for the cherry, I decided on a unusual little maple. I saw a beautiful clump at the Swathmore College Aboretum while I was on a garden tour of Southeast Pennsylvania two years ago. It is very slow growing, with a leaf more like a Sassafras tree than a maple. But what I liked most was the unusual peeling bark, like a river birch's, only in a rich cocoa-rust color. It was beautiful. Success, in the shape of a diminutive specimen barely three feet tall, is now in a protected section of the lawn, under planted with vinca. And I know, even at my most optimistic, that I will not live long enough to sit under it. Nevertheless, I didn't plant it under the power lines for future generations to deal with.
As you can see, planting a tree takes a great deal of planning. It is like planning a town or village. Our town's founder had the right idea. Lay out the street grids and centrally locate all the services for the needs of the residents. But he didn't have influential unions, powerful political parties, and an electorate raised in this age of instant gratification to worry about, or answer to. That is what's wrong in our community now. Planning is not done for fifty or one hundred years down the line. If it is done at all, it is to appease the voters right now, and win next November's election. For the most part decisions are made on the untutored whim of someone new to the area, or someone with little real knowledge or genuine concern for our community. Unfortunately, we see that everyday in our town and village.
My advice? First, plant a tree your great-grandchildren can sit under. Then vote for the people who will make sure this is still a nice place to live when your future generations are resting there.
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Comments: 14
"...but you can overdo the weeping thing in a small landscape." (I love this phrase on many levels!)
wonderful!
Seriously, thanks for the kind words - I'm honored to be on an inspirational sign. AND - if it helps to make the world a better place - it's because of you. Good luck with the carreer!
Faith - thanks - I love trees too. I confess to being the past "President of the Board of Management of the Woodstock Tree Trust" It is the oldest tree trust in the US. Before that I had the coolest title ever - Tree Warden! (truth)
if you're ever in Chicago area, go to the Morton Arboretum west of Chicago. I try to visit every time I go tht way.
Oh, by the way, we have a family up here in our county who has made a profession of cloning trees esp. historical trees. They have gone around the world gathering specimens, even to China, and they've become very famous (among tree afficienados. ) It's the Milarch Farms.
I always like to see people who think beyond their own next few years. Refreshes a bit of my faith in humanity, which is far to easily depleated by reality television shows, the values I've seen instilled in some of my peers by their parents and community, and even the news occasionally.
Continue your forward thinking and try not to get bogged down by the mediocrity around you.