Posts Tagged ‘trees’
Seeing Things
Sitting on the deck for lunch during one of the brief moments of sunshine over the weekend, I glanced at the window on the house and noticed a psychedelic distortion in the reflection.
I had a moment of wondering if it was me or the window that was responsible for the weird image. Others confirmed what I was seeing, so I pulled out my camera and snapped a photo.
Groovy, man.
No software filters were used in the making of this image.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Deer Crossing
Our latest positioning of the trail cam has proved successful in capturing some deer traffic on —or across— one of our pathways. Snapped ’em coming and going. Based on the hoof prints we have seen, it was obvious there are some youngsters hanging around. While this spot appears to be a crossing point, the little one had altered course toward the camera in the wee hours of the morning.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Those Days
It’s been one of those days lately at the day job. Several of those days, actually. So, on my off-day of the week, I’m still grinding away on the work email to address issues. Issues that come in bunches. Bunches of issues that I prefer not occur.
But they do.
I looked out the bedroom window this morning and spotted a volunteer oak sapling that I staked up last year in hopes it would become well established and fill a void created by the loss of a pine. The new leaves are all wilted and sad.
It got me thinking that the same thing would likely have occurred to the new transplanted maple in the center of our labyrinth, had it actually sprouted new buds this spring.
So is it a good thing that it didn’t grow?
Maybe I’ll look at it that way. By not thriving after being transplanted, it avoided the fate of frozen new growth last weekend. Smart little tree.
It’s been one of those springs, thus far.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Wilted Leaves
I heard on the radio yesterday that the local vintners suffered significant losses to their grape-vine crops because of the two nights of below freezing temperatures last weekend. Of all the plants on our property, the wild grape vines look the worst. Luckily, we don’t need to harvest any fruit from these vines. Ours are all volunteer plants spread most likely by the activity of birds.
Growing right beside the vine in that picture is a large poplar tree. It doesn’t look too good, either.
The first thing that stands out is simply the lack of healthy green color in the leaves. They all look too pale and are a little droopy, but a small portion are curling along the edges.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I took a picture of a maple tree across the driveway from it for comparison. Does the difference in coloring show? Maybe not as obviously as the difference in number of leaves on each. The maple is way ahead of the poplar, and maybe that contributed to it surviving the freeze so much better than the other. New growth seems particularly fragile in the presence of freezing temperatures.
It’s sad to see how harsh this can be on growing plants, and frustrating to be so powerless to protect them all.
It has me feeling a little wilted, right along with the leaves.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Yard Hay
I mowed the back yard yesterday afternoon and ended up with windrows that look like I should be borrowing George’s baler to pick it all up. I feel like I have mowed when it has needed it worse, but not ended up with so much in the way of cuttings as I did this time.
That must be a good sign that the lawn is thick and healthy. I hope the same holds true for our hay-field out front in a few weeks!
The weather hasn’t been so kind to a lot of other growing plants. Over the weekend we had two nights of below freezing temperatures. Cyndie was proactive about protecting her newly planted wild flower garden both nights, covering them with blankets. She also brought all potted plants into the garage.
Unfortunately, we have too many growing things to protect them all. Several trees with new leaves look to have suffered to the point of drooping wilted leaves.
In the autumn, by the time we get freezing temperatures, the leaves are on their way to the ground, if not already there.
It’s not obvious yet if anything was damaged beyond recovery, but we will be watching the labyrinth with hope that plants there didn’t experience the couple of freezes as fatal. Cyndie’s initial survey brought hope that some may not have suffered at all.
That offers promise to which we intend to cling.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
No Fish
One of the things that seems so sad about the failure of our 3rd transplanted maple tree in the labyrinth is how many hundreds of volunteer maples are sprouting in unwanted locations around our house and yard. A less stubborn (and probably smarter) person would likely make the obvious choice of moving one of these hearty little yearlings to the center of the garden, but not me.
I have been bound and determined to get a head start on a future giant center piece for our labyrinth by planting a tree taller than me with an already good-looking crown of leaves. When Cyndie suggested buying a tree with an established root-ball, I countered that I preferred one from our property, and each time my attempt fails, I am going to pick an even taller one next, to make up for lost progress.
If necessary, in a few years I will hire a truck with a giant conical tree spade to dig up a 10-year-old beauty, I’ll dismantle rock paths to make room for it to back into the center of the garden, and they can plop down a transplant that won’t dare fail.
I’m finding that it might be easier to replace rocks for the labyrinth path than get a tree to survive being transplanted to the middle.
A few days ago, a person who shall remain nameless, to protect their anonymity, dropped off a small fish for our landscape pond. Cyndie learned about it after dark, and went out with a flashlight to check. Yep, she confirmed, there was a fish swimming in our pond.
That’s the last time the fish was seen. I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn it didn’t adjust to the move, if we had found it floating days later. I never suspected it wouldn’t survive the first night and would disappear without a trace. Did a predator —probably raccoon— really find and dispatch it that swiftly?
Maybe it is just hiding really well, like the hidden growth of roots on the transplanted tree. Maybe the tree isn’t actually dead. It might just be taking a year off to develop roots, instead of sprouting leaves.
On Monday, I went to see a home game of the MLB Twins at Target Field with Rich, Jill, and Bob. It’s not a good sign that my only photo taken that night was of the giant display screen blazing the weather radar as the PA voice announced the game was being postponed.
I’m experiencing a trend. No tree, no fish, no baseball.
One of these tomorrows, I sure hope that sun comes out, and soon!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Reconciling Melancholy
Every day isn’t always rainbows and unicorns. Sometimes transplanted trees don’t survive and balanced rocks fall. In and of themselves, individual issues are not really that big of a deal. What I noticed over the weekend was that the little things have a mysterious power to lurk below the surface and weigh down the ambiance of an otherwise wonderful series of days.
Fortunately, I have access to an incredible antidote in the form of some fine animals in a very special setting. Photos by Cyndie.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
After a short span of time, the rocks that I used the tractor to lift into place on the tall tree stump, have already fallen. Since it happened so quickly this time, I have decided not to try again. I was thinking I could cut the stump to a lower height, where I would be able to reach without needing the tractor, and then select some rocks that aren’t too heavy for me to lift. But then I remembered that we have another bird house that was given to us, and that could be a great spot for it.
It was probably a bird that landed on, and tipped, the balanced rocks anyway. What do you figure?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
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.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Springing Along
The season of spring is springing along nicely at Wintervale. The leaves have started making an appearance on a variety of shrubs and saplings. The raspberry bushes in particular have shown dramatic development in the last few days. It is hard to tell whether the recent rains triggered this, or it was just coincidental timing, and would have happened at this time, anyway.
It amazes me how quickly the initial sprouts of foliage obscure the view into our woods. Very soon, there will be so many green leaves, we won’t be able to see more than the outer surfaces.
I’m wishing I could remember this moment long-term in order to hold it as a reference for comparison with the other extremes of the stark bare branches of winter and the view-obscuring green leaves of summer. Every season seems to last just long enough that I mentally fall into a trap of perceiving views as if a present state is the only way it could ever be.
When the forest is fully leafed out, I find it hard to comprehend that just months earlier, it was the complete opposite.
Though most areas of our yard have yet to be mowed, I already needed to cut one section a second time.
I sense that summer is just a short blink away from replacing spring, and the expanding leaves on trees and bushes will be leading the charge in the days ahead.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Preventive Medicine
We have now received three diagnoses for what has possibly been killing our pine trees over the three years that we have lived here.
The first guy thought it might be related to spider mites. He offered to treat all our trees with over $1000 worth of insecticide.
The second guy became very alarmed over the visible damage from sap suckers. I am grateful that the second guy was at least thorough enough to have also taken needle samples back for further analysis and consultation with other experts.
We are feeling most confident with the follow-up diagnosis he came up with of a fungus. Given that we are not interested in applying toxins in hopes of treating our remaining trees, I have responded to advice from the arborist to give our remaining healthy trees plenty of food and water for the best chance going forward.
When he suggested giving them a good bedding, I pointed out that I have plenty of composting horse manure.
“That would be great for bedding.” he said.
Done.
Well, one done. Many to go.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
