Where trees should grow

As I walked the dog this morning past the fenced-in factory on the edge of the neighborhood, a thought drifted into my mind and stayed there.

The west side of the factory property, about two acres or so, is close-mown grass. Better than asphalt, certainly, but still, rather useless from the perspective of the planet, other than for beetle grubs and robins.

What if I could talk to the big shots that own the factory? Convince them to let some conservation group, Boy Scouts, etc., plant about forty trees in that grass? In years to come, a cool, shady forest requiring no attention from humans, no mowing, no fertilizing, could cover that area. Great PR for the factory, and a money-saver, too.

Oak babies

Although I did not have the good sense to take any pictures today, I can happily report that the five native oaks our school children recently planted in a local park are flourishing.

That is in addition to the four pines we planted last year.

I wish these little baby trees all the best. Someday, birds will nest in their branches and squirrels will hoard their nuts and pinecones.

It is a little thing, in the scheme of things -- eight little trees when greedy idiots are obliterating forests many times that size even as I type these words. But a little thing is better than nothing.

Feeling piney

Why is it that "to pine" in English connotates a bad thing? I like pines. Pines in the sunshine smell like summer to me. A forest of pines is soft underfoot (except for the cones), and still, and peaceful. A pine is also the tree you are most likely to meet gripping the rocky edge of some wind-blasted mountainside.

While the oaks and maples stand stark and skeletal in winter, pines persist, presenting their display of green even in the depths of December.

I will not buy cypress mulch

The tragic genius of man is that if he works at it hard enough, he can find a way to exploit just about anything.

How about an ugly, inedible sea mollusc? Well, turns out the cuttlefish makes a great toy for caged birds. A root that forks like the legs of a man? Medically useless, but try telling that to superstitious people who pay dearly for ginseng. Horseshoe crabs? Scientists drain their blood for research.

Somebody recently discovered that the great sentinels of our southern swamps, cypress trees, make a long-lasting, pest-resistant garden mulch. And the saws are now cutting them, fast and furious, to sprinkle upon the suburbs of America.

That is a sad and sorry fate for such a special tree, arborial neighbor to the 'gator and cottonmouth, the eagle and the muskrat.

I will not buy cypress mulch. I will not be as those who tore down the buildings of Rome for cobblestones and doorstops. I will not spread the shattered shavings of this wild wonder upon my petunias.

http://mygardenguide.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=1242&Itemid=27

I am a tree lover

Call me a tree-hugger and I will not feel insulted.

Trees are mysterious beings upon our Earth, resilient and ancient. Redwoods loom in the California mist, massive and magnificent. Palms wave in the tropical breeze, with their feet planted in the sand. In the northern forests, spruces survive the worst of winter and upon the spine of the western mountains, the bristlecone pines are the oldest living things on earth.

From trees come chocolate and cherries, cinnamon and cloves, lacquer and chicle, taxol to fight cancer and quinine to fend off malaria.

I am a tree lover and I am not ashamed.

Please visit this blog: http://ten-thousand-trees.blogspot.com

Can you ever have too many friends?

This week, I have been enjoying two new blog friendships: Walking Man -- certainly my alter-ego, Enkidu to my Gilgamesh; and Nicotine Queen, a witty and feisty dweller in Gotham City, aka the Big Apple, aka New York.

And tonight, I found another great blog to explore: Genevieve's treenotes.blogspot.com. A labor of love about our magnificent Eastern American trees.

Can you ever have too many friends?

Pondering ashes

The oak I know, the beech I know, the fragrant, resinous pine I know.

The maple, the sycamore, the walnut, the hickory -- I have pictures in my mind as I write each of these words.

But I do not know the ash.

Here in the US, they make baseball bats from it and kids in bygone days loved to hang their tree swings from its sturdy but flexible branches.

In Europe, this member of the olive family -- another tree venerated since the dawn of man -- was long held to be that plant from which the first man sprung, the Yggdrasil or tree of life. The belief was held from Scandinavia to Greece.

What I don't know is why this tree? It produces no nourishing fruit like its sibling the olive or the familiar favorites in the rose family, not even an acorn like the oak. It produces no sweet sap like the maple, no useful tannins, no bark from which to make books. It has not the shimmering display of an aspen nor the gravitas of a beech.

Even I, who love trees and try to know them, cannot recall in all my life ever seeing one except in the pages of a book, though surely I have.

Why in English do we even call it an ash tree? What's the etymology?

Going backwards? (quick lunchtime post)

"You see those trees?" said my guide on a tour of a certain facility today. "Take a good look at them. Next week, they'll all be gone."

He seemed proud. My group seemed happy too, for the trees are coming down to make way for a big, important building. I kept my feelings to myself.

Ironically, those trees were planted there, about 20 years ago, in a push of environmentalism. Now, with unexpected growth, they're in the way. They'll be swept away along with the deer, box turtles, snakes, frogs, birds, insects and other plants that lived there, who are never consulted in these matters. Environmental laws -- pfft. If you have money and influence, you can build what you want, where you want.

Backwards we go. From what shall we print all our new money when the trees for paper are gone?

I read The Lifted Lorax, by Seuss, when I was a wee kid. It affected me. Do we read that book to children anymore?

Happy 300th post to me!