Posts Tagged ‘maple tree’
Trumpet Vine
It appears we have succeeded in transplanting a vine to the gazebo beside the labyrinth. That metal frame used to have a canvas cover that provided shelter from sun or rain but it succumbed to the elements a few years ago. We decided to try crafting a natural roof, starting with weaving long sticks through the frame and then filling spaces by threading in old grape vines.
We have since transplanted multiple versions of vines in hopes they will climb the frame and take up residency in and around the sticks and old vinewood. The trumpet vine is showing the most vigor and recently began bursting forth with blossoms.
I suspect it may take a year or two more to fully cover that gazebo but we are in it for the long game. Heck, we’ve got a maple tree in the center of the labyrinth that I dream will command dominance over the space in a hundred years.
We can wait a little while for the gazebo to gain its full green crown. At least that can happen while I’m still alive. The maple tree… I’ll just have to imagine what that will look like when is has soared to its maximum height and largest diameter trunk.
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Top Down
With a title like “Top Down,” you might suspect my mind is stuck on the incredible and a little bit crazy escapades of the Tour de France racers making their way down the sides of mountains at ridiculous speeds. I’ll admit, the thought did cross my mind but, no, this choice of words came from the way the tree in front of the house next door is dying.
When we were up here for Memorial Day weekend, the leaves all looked healthy, but Tom told me it was going to die because squirrels (the most likely culprits) had eaten away the bark over winter.
There is no denying the accuracy of his prediction now. I was startled to see how dramatically the demise was represented in the gradual decline of life from the top down.
In circumstances that echo our experience with the maple tree we transplanted to the center of our labyrinth at home, this was the fourth tree that Tom and his dad had tried growing in that spot. This one had finally proved a success but now that achievement has ended up being short-lived.
At least a half-dozen other similar-sized trees on the properties up here suffered the same fate over the winter. I don’t know what drove critters to devour so much tree bark up here last year, but now I want to wrap the trunk of our maple at home before next winter arrives.
It’s such a helpless feeling watching a tree slowly die.
Meanwhile, the number of little oak sprouts that appear on our beach every year (only to get plucked because… it is a beach!) is mind-boggling.
I’d like to volunteer to transplant a handful of those sprouts up to the vicinity of the dying maple of the Whitlock’s and we can see if one takes.
We’ve all been marveling over how unnoticeable it is that so many trees were cut down up here last November. The remaining trees have done well to fill in the gaps that were created by the removal of ailing ones.
If the planet hadn’t just set a new record for the hottest temperature ever recorded, I’d feel a bit more optimistic about the overall health of our forests up at the lake as well as at home.
It certainly has me appreciating what we have at this moment. Here’s to all the trees that are currently healthy from the top down.
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June Fourth
What makes June Fourth so special? It’s Cyndie’s birthday!! We are not old or anything, compared to everyone older than us, but when you qualify for Medicare in the U.S., it suddenly feels like you are older than ever. Well, older than you’ve ever been before.
It feels wrong to be doing anything other than celebrating my lovely wife today but there are weeds to be cut, you know. We are meeting Cyndie’s mom and our kids for brunch, but after that, it’s back to the battle against allowing weeds to go to seed.
I don’t know how many versions of this photo I have posted over the last ten years, but it’s a view that truly captures my experience for hours on end.
I worked the string trimmer along the fence line, around the round pen, and along the deep washouts of the drainage swale. I used the Greenworks riding mower to knock down weeds in the round pen and along the inside of the fence line. Finally, I pulled the brush cutter behind the diesel tractor to cut the back pasture. Among the multiple weeds battling for dominance against grasses in the field, thistle is the one we are keeping at bay by mowing.
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In the background of the photo with the cleanly trimmed fence line, you can spot the little maple tree that is in the center of the labyrinth.
This morning we opened the gate to the back pasture, giving the horses access to all that cut grass. They took little notice after finishing the feed in their pans and lolled around near the fans under the overhang. It’s not uncomfortably hot yet this early in the day, but the humidity is noticeable and those big-body mares know the heat will build faster by the minute.
I expect we’ll find them out there soon enough. They have a good sense about the opening of gates around their confines.
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Red Leaves
On my drive home from work yesterday, I accidentally allowed myself to hear news on the radio as it blathered nothing but bad vibes, one after another. It knocked me for a loop that needs an antidote of something hopeful or some promise that better days for all might lie ahead. I can only assume that promise remains somewhere beyond the horizon because it’s not visible to me yet.
I am lucky, though. Home is a sanctuary with Cyndie and our animals happy to greet me when I arrive and the scenery around our house offering a soothing view.
Check out the maple tree leaves turning red over Cyndie’s gardens.
It’s an early adopter.
Surrounded by love in our paradise, I was able to leave the gloomy news behind for the time being.
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Three Trees
Cyndie sent me this image yesterday and what caught my eye was the combination of three of the trees we have planted in our time here were all in the frame.
On the left is a crab apple in blossom.
On the right is a hydrangea that Cyndie planted beside her labyrinth. When we moved the gazebo last year, that tree needed to be relocated to the opposite perimeter.
In the background is a maple that we moved from beneath one of our big old maples a short distance away to the east. That little maple offspring is now all by itself in the center of the labyrinth.
All three trees have gone through a lot in these new locations. The hydrangea is showing some green this spring, but we think it is a last gasp before the end. We were thrilled to see it didn’t appear to look shocked after the last transplantation, but then, later in the summer, a limb dropped off and revealed a spongy wound that showed little sign of healthy life.
I didn’t expect to see any leaves this spring, so what did sprout has me curious to see what another year might bring.
The most rewarding of the three is that maple. It was our fourth try to get a maple of that size to survive the trauma of the move to the middle of the labyrinth. I like to imagine what it will look like in a hundred years when it towers over the circuitous garden.
I hope to live long enough to see what a 20-year-old tree looks like in the labyrinth.
In the meantime, we are thoroughly enjoying all of them, just the way they are each day.
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Growing Hope
Our hope is growing for the maple tree we transplanted to the center of the labyrinth. If you are keeping score, this is the 4th time we have tried to move a maple sapling from beneath one of the character-filled old giants lining the driving path along the back pasture fence line.
This tree is currently holding its leaves longer into the summer than any of the previous attempts did. Between our extra effort and the favorable weather conditions this year, I’m finally allowing myself to hope this one will take, maybe even flourish!
It’s funny how much I want certain things to grow, while at the same time wishing others wouldn’t. It would be just great if the weeds currently sprouting in the hay-field would just take the rest of the summer off. I’d love it if the tree-climbing vines would cease and desist. And the poison ivy that is thriving here could make me very happy if it would just shrivel up and die.
Maybe I should try to transplant the things I don’t want. I could do a mediocre job and watch them wilt away.
Do plants fall for reverse psychology?
The growth along the fence lines has been neglected for too long and has become both a nuisance and an eyesore. Cyndie, back when she had the use of both arms, was doing a heroic job of landscape maintenance using the Stihl power trimmer. In her absence, the fence lines have been ignored, as I’ve been putting my focus on the lawn and the main part of the fields.
As it is, I haven’t even kept up with the fields. There is still one section of pasture that I haven’t cut all summer, and it has gotten about as overgrown as possible.
Even though I am behind on the mowing, it occurred to me last night that we shouldn’t feel too bad about the state of things. Over the last two weekends, we have given up over 4 days to entertainment activities which borrowed entirely from time I would have been tackling chores on the property.
It appears that I am my own worst enemy when it comes to interfering with my ability to get things done. I better review Wintervale’s time-off policy and see if there has been a violation of the guidelines.
Now, if I could only figure out where the HR department is around here…
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Nascent Blossom
It looks like we have some mixed success with our transplanting of last year. The maple sapling we hoped would be our 3rd-time’s-a-charm in the center of the labyrinth is not showing signs of life. For comparison, I check the trees of similar size back in the area from which we moved him, to see progress of buds and leaves. They already have a lot of buds.
Sad.
The good news is with our trillium. I’m not sure we have 100% success, but any is better than none, and we definitely have a couple groups of blossoms.
It’s a long way from the carpet of flowers we get in the woods up at the lake place, but it’s a great start! The next excitement to celebrate will be the day we see them spreading naturally and bringing up new shoots nearby. That’s what we are hoping for anyway.
Since we have success transplanting small plants, I am tempted to just transplant a little seedling of a maple tree to the labyrinth to increase my odds of success. If I would have done that a few years ago, we’d probably now have one about the size of what I keep trying to move.
It is just so tempting to see a nice crown of leaves overhead in that spot. I’ll probably try again next fall. First, we’ll find one that looks like a good candidate when it is fully leafed out this summer, and we’ll mark it. Then when it drops its leaves and goes dormant, we’ll dig it up and move it.
Hoping the 4th time will be the charm.
Place your bets on which we will achieve first: a naturally spreading carpet of trillium blossoms in our woods, or a surviving transplanted maple tree in the labyrinth garden.
I’m going to keep trying to accomplish both. Practice makes perfect.
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Labyrinth Water
I only accomplished a short portion of my list of things deserving immediate attention yesterday. First and foremost, I completed the project to install a hose spigot for water to the labyrinth garden. Despite my 3 attempts to achieve a leak-free set of connections at the bottom of the hill, I quit while there remained a slow drip and deemed it good enough for now. Perfection isn’t everything, you know.
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If you look closely, you just might be able to spot the transplanted maple tree by the large rock at the center of the labyrinth. It appears to be holding its own in this first summer out in the open sunlight.
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Wonderful Wetness
We have received several days of light-to-moderate precipitation which is soaking in more than running off, and the plants around here seem pretty thrilled with the conditions. The grass sure is growing fast.
Hopefully, the horses have properly adjusted to all the greenery available for grazing, as we are now leaving the gate to the back pasture open 24/7 again. They don’t seem to like the noise made by rain on the metal roof of the barn, so when precipitation is falling, they move away, either to the bottom of the paddock or way out in the pasture.
I was in the city working yesterday, and when I got home in the afternoon, Delilah was laying in the gate area of her kennel, which is beyond the tarp that covers the main area, so she was soaking wet. Silly dog.
We walked down to feed the horses, but they didn’t show any interest in coming in from the far side of the pasture. Since it was raining steadily, I didn’t wait around for them, taking Delilah on an abbreviated walk back toward the house.
After having just mowed last Saturday, there are places where it already looks like it needs cutting again, just 3 days later. On our way in, I stopped to empty the rain gauge, which had 2 inches of rain in it since Saturday.
Before going to the horses, we had stopped by the labyrinth to see that the maple tree looked okay (hard to tell exactly when the leaves are drooping from the wetness), and the trillium in the woods was looking very good.
I’m grateful for the rain not coming all at once in a gully-washing downpour, but instead has soaked in enough to help fuel growth in everything around here. It’s making things a sloppy mess in some places, but overall, it is a wonderful wetness.
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Still Hoping
I wrote earlier about being on my third attempt to successfully transplant a young maple sapling to the center of our labyrinth. Each time, we have tried something a bit different from the time before, hoping to eliminate issues that contributed to those failures. This time, our method was to dig out as big a root ball as possible and transfer as much intact soil as we could, and to do so before the tree had leafed out.
We were a few days later than I had wanted, as the buds were just starting to open, but it was still better timing than the previous two attempts we had made. I was greatly relieved to see the buds continue to open and full leaves unfold about a week after we moved it.
I’m a bit like a nervous parent now, checking on it every chance I get, as if peeking in to see if our little baby is safe and sound while she naps. I thought the leaves looked a little droopy yesterday afternoon, but looking around at all the other trees of that size, plenty of them have that same look. I wondered if it might be a result of the shift back to colder temperatures.
There were frost warnings posted last night for central Wisconsin. No wonder the leaves are experiencing a little shrinkage!
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Relative Something 