Posts Tagged ‘maple tree’
Unexplained Death
I am loath to admit what is daily becoming more apparent. The maple tree that I have been gushing about for the last seven years, transplanted from our woods as a sapling in the fall of 2016, is not showing any sign of life this spring.
We keep hoping beyond hope that the stunted little buds on the branches are just delayed, but the little branch I snapped off a few days ago didn’t offer much hope, with little in the way of green life showing.
My inner pessimist has me thinking my cocky decision to begin annually measuring the circumference of the trunk to track its growth brought on this outcome. What I don’t understand, among the many things I don’t understand, is how and why this is occurring so suddenly. I have watched a lot of trees die in my lifetime, and they usually show plenty of signs they are on the way out.
This is how that maple tree looked ten months ago:
The dang willow tree in the small paddock that I cut almost to a stump and has no reason to have any real future health has sprouted a surprising amount of new branches. If this maple is failing, couldn’t it at the very least pop out a few little attempts to get some nourishment from the sun?
In the spring of 2017, we draped a sheet over the delicate new transplant to protect it from freezing temperatures.
I am so very sad and disappointed. More importantly, I am at a loss as to what happened and what we might have been able to do differently to prevent this sudden failure. When we can muster the mental fortitude to take invasive steps to inspect the roots, we would hope to learn if there is rot. Did it get too much water? Did the lack of snow and hard, hard freezes last winter have this impact?
There are no signs of insect activity or any other visible fungus. All I have is the perception of full leaves last summer, a normal fall change of color and dropping of leaves, and tiny buds that stunted and stopped this spring. It feels like going from all to none.
It sucks. I’m heartsick over it. At this point, I’m not sure I even want to bother trying a fifth time for a tree in the center of the labyrinth garden.
Maybe it’s just dormant and will make a second attempt at leafing out. I could try cutting off the limbs like I did the willow tree and see if that makes it sprout new growth.
Instead, I plan to do nothing. It is what it is. I plan to sink my oodles of tree love into all the other wonderful volunteers around our property that we didn’t need to transplant, but now are being nurtured by protectively clearing around them and frequently monitoring their well-being.
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Early Test
The shade sail had barely been up for 24 hours when a line of thunderstorms closed in and weather watches and warning alarms started pinging our phones. As the wild-looking radar scans reached our area, I stepped outside to see if the sky looked as spooky as the Doppler readings and warning boxes on our screens. Rain had started to fall, but I was outside during an early pause in the precipitation.
When I came back inside, it was announced that our county was under a tornado warning for the next half hour. Did we run to the basement? No. We were hardly getting any rain, and there was very little wind. The sky seemed to be getting lighter instead of the expected threatening darkness.
When the line of storms had moved beyond us and all the warnings had expired, we went out for a walk. The asphalt of our driveway beneath the trees wasn’t even wet. Not only did we dodge a severe storm, but we didn’t even get enough rain to water our plants. We thought it was going to be a big test for the new canopy in the paddock. A thunderstorm wasn’t the test.
Behind this line of storms, we got slammed with heavy, gusting winds. Serious gusts. Suddenly, I heard the distinctive sounds of wood cracking and raced to look out our back doors to witness the top of one of our big maple trees crash to the ground in a cloud of shredding branches and leaves. Wind gusts were reported around 40mph.
The tornado didn’t materialize, but we still suffered the loss of a big tree. So many maple leaves that just popped open in the last week, snuffed out in an instant.
We went for a walk to check on the shade sail. It was holding its own amid the gusts.
I took some pictures showing more details of the turnbuckles we are using to anchor the canopy and how we ran the eyebolts diagonally through the corners of the posts.
Here is a shot from Wednesday showing the level of shade the canopy provides in the hot part of the afternoon. The old willow tree never offered that amount of solid UV protection in its heyday.
Speaking of the old willow, I noticed the other day that it is refusing to give up entirely.
I don’t think it will be offering much in the way of shade this summer, but it is probably making a statement about what it thinks of the new shade-maker taking its place.
First thing yesterday morning, we finished reconnecting the electric fence and took down the temporary barrier between the two paddocks, which gave the horses access to the automatic waterer again.
I’ve been waiting a long time to get that stretch of wood fence standing straight up again. It’s very rewarding to see.
Throughout the evening, I frequently checked on the canopy through our surveillance camera down at the barn as the wind continued to blow. It was definitely being pushed down or puffed up at different times, but not in a way that looked worrisome.
Since I’ve heard from several people with shade sails that they leave them up in the wind, I’m feeling less skittish about taking our chances with it.
Yesterday was a pretty dramatic first test. So far, so good.
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Not Panicking
Just because my pet maple tree that we transplanted to the middle of the labyrinth hasn’t sprouted leaves yet, while almost every other tree around has, we’ve chosen not to panic. New buds are visible, but they just haven’t made as much progress as we expect at this point. There are a small number of other trees of a variety of species that are similarly delayed compared to the majority of broadleaved trees and bushes around here, so there is that. It’s not alone.
Since we have been enduring a long span of hot, dry, sunny days, our cool-headed response to the situation was to put a watering bag around the trunk to keep the little guy well-hydrated. We are hoping to see visible progress of advancing leaf buds soon.
I had another opportunity to not panic yesterday afternoon while mowing. As my confidence and control on the zero-turn riding mower have improved, I find myself pushing beyond some of my previous boundaries. I’ve started mowing a half-swath beside some of our pathways with the deck at the highest setting to control the walkway narrowing from tall grass on the sides bending over into the lane.
Cutting it back with the riding mower is a great improvement over my previous effort of walking along and swinging the hedge trimmer blades across the too-tall grasses after the fact. That is laborious, back-aching work.
While making a first pass along the edge of our path around the back pasture and hay field, the front wheels suddenly jumped, and the mower deck bottomed out on a tall mound. The mower was pointed down into a bunch of scrub brush trees along the drainage swale. With the deck stuck on the mound, the drive wheels had no grip on the ground. I couldn’t move forward or reverse.
I do believe my years of experience were revealed in a complete lack of cursing and tantruming. I simply walked all the way back to the shop and got the ATV and a come-along. After a couple of futile tries, I realized I needed Cyndie’s help. I pulled out my phone to call her and found she had texted me.
“We’re walking off leash & see you on ATV- need help?”
Since she has never operated the zero-turn, I offered her the ATV, and I spun the wheels on the mower. Nope. No progress, but I had a hunch.
I asked her to try the mower, and I got on the ATV. The throttle just needed to be goosed with a little more oomph, and we pulled it right off that mound.
When success comes without having put myself through the angst of getting overly upset at the outset, the reward of solving the dilemma is that much sweeter.
It pays not to panic.
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More Trimming
Before the ground in the small paddock turns into a swampy mess with this February thaw, I took advantage of the warm afternoon to use the pole chainsaw on the mostly dead willow tree to get another level of limbs removed.
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By the time I finished, we were picking up branches from pools of standing water at the base of the tree.
I had considered removing all of the large stump at the center of the tree, but Cyndie talked me into leaving it for the time being with a comment wondering how that might affect the center of balance of what remained.
Most noteworthy for the afternoon was the fact that the chainsaw started easily after just a couple of pulls, and none of the branches I cut fell on my head.
It went so well that I immediately made my way to a maple tree beside the hay shed that had several dead limbs I’d been wanting to cut out for some time. It won’t surprise me if those are an indication the rest of the tree may not be far behind. We’ll be watching to see what the coming growing season reveals.
Last night, we watched the Screen Actors Guild Awards Show on Netflix. Jane Fonda was given a Life Achievement Award and gave an impassioned acceptance speech that media responses labeled “fiery” and “politically charged.” Would we expect anything less from Jane Fonda?
She tossed in, “Woke just means you give a damn about other people.”
It was mentioned that, in addition to many awards she has won for her accomplishments, she made it onto Nixon’s enemies list for her anti-war activism. I won’t be surprised if she just made it onto the current administration’s enemies list, as well.
I wonder if you can volunteer to be added to such a list. That’s an honor I’ll gladly accept if it ever comes my way.
Maybe I should join SAG-AFTRA.
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Still Blooming
Nearing the end of the second week of October in my part of the world didn’t used to involve rose blossoms. These days, this kind of outdoor plant behavior is not all that surprising.
Asher and I were visiting the labyrinth to top off the water bag around the maple tree when I noticed the flowers. They stood out against the drought-influenced fading life and fallen leaves all around them. I was struck by the fact the rose bush was able to do so much with so little moisture available in the ground.
I must admit, it feels somewhat futile to try giving one tree a tiny bit of extra water while the rest of the growth in the surrounding woods is left wanting.
The fall colors have been less spectacular than some other years but it is changing.
As dusk settled in and the half-moon stood out brightly in the sky, the uncharacteristic warmth of a summer evening on this October night was simply the new normal.
While other parts of the world are coping with floods, our little nook in Wisconsin, USA, is warm and dry.
With rose blossoms.
Wintervale Big Trees 8
[John and Cyndie are currently on vacation in Iceland with our friends, Barb & Mike Wilkus. While we are gone, I am featuring the results of the big tree survey I did in August on our property.]
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The eighth tree is also a maple. It is located just beyond the bird-pecked tree, near what we call the “Middle Trail.” There isn’t anything particularly distinguishing about this tree but its girth caught my eye and earned it a spot in the survey. Deservedly so. I left the vine in place for the photo to show what we need to constantly address. I uprooted it and pulled it off the bark immediately after taking the picture.
“Be gone with you, $*@%# vine!”
Measuring a circumference of 105 inches, this maple is calculated to be approximately 150 years old.
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Wintervale Big Trees 7
[John and Cyndie are currently on vacation in Iceland with our friends, Barb & Mike Wilkus. While we are gone, I am featuring the results of the big tree survey I did in August on our property.]
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The seventh tree is another maple. From behind the labyrinth, I walked to the trail that leaves the backyard at the bottom of the hill near the red raspberry garden. It may not be long for this world as the reference I gave the tree is “bird pecked.” It looks like a variety of woodland creatures are hollowing residences out of the body of this noble gem, both up high and down low.
Measuring a circumference of 95 inches, this maple is calculated to be approximately 135 years old.
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Wintervale Big Trees 4
[John and Cyndie are currently on vacation in Iceland with our friends, Barb & Mike Wilkus. While we are gone, I am featuring the results of the big tree survey I did in August on our property.]
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The fourth tree I measured is a stone’s throw from the chicken manure spot, toward the middle of this section of woods, away from the trails.
It is also a maple tree. I referenced it as “swing arm” because of a massive lower limb that stretches out and absolutely begs to have a swing hung from it. I would need to clear out a bunch of small trees in the vicinity to make a swing viable. Maybe someday?
Measuring a circumference of 117 inches, this maple calculates to approximately 167 years old.
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Wintervale Big Trees 3
[John and Cyndie are currently on vacation in Iceland with our friends, Barb & Mike Wilkus. While we are gone, I am featuring the results of the big tree survey I did in August on our property.]
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The third tree I measured is just down the trail a bit from the first two and I referenced it in my notes as “chicken compost” because we used to dump the chicken manure beside it.
It is another maple tree. There are five maples in total in my survey.
Measuring a circumference of 101 inches, this maple calculates to approximately 145 years old.
I wonder what it was like in Iceland when this tree first sprouted from the ground…
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Wintervale Big Trees 1
[John and Cyndie are currently on vacation in Iceland with our friends, Barb & Mike Wilkus. While we are gone, I am featuring the results of the big tree survey I did in August on our property.]
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The first tree I measured was chosen for its prominent location and because it was the tree that first caught my eye when we initially visited the property with the intent of purchasing these 20 acres.
It is a Maple with a big burl knot growing on it.
Measuring a circumference of 98 inches, this precious specimen calculates to approximately 140 years old.
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Relative Something 