Student Post, Helleborus

Helleborus

Lenten Roses

Happy Helleborus, as I like to call them, are a fantastic genus group of beautifully flowering, evergreen perennials. Helleborus are very adaptable and will grow in many different situations making them a garden must have. Helleborus originally came to North America from both Europe and Asia, and they can now be found throughout the U.S. in almost any nursery. They bloom before or around Easter and can sometimes last for a month or more. They can be planted in zones 4-8, and they are deer proof!

The greatest feature of Lenten Roses is the wide range of flower color choices available. One thing to remember when purchasing is that they do not bloom sometimes in their first year, but will start blooming the second year so you may want to spend the extra money to get a larger, older plant.

They also come in double flowering varieties.

Almost an equally interesting feature of Lenten Roses is their foliage. They do not disappoint even when they are not flowering. They remain a vibrant groundcover throughout the rest of the year. Several different cultivars offer unique foliage combinations.

Helleborus are perfect for a shade garden, but I have also planted them in full sun and had them perform well. They will do best with afternoon shade. At times older leaves will need to be removed in the winter to keep them looking fresh. Another trick I learned from a long time gardener client was to add lime to the soil when you plant them. This will help them grow fast and strong. Give them small amounts of organic fertilizer, adequate water (but not to much they don’t like wet feet) and make sure to take lots of photos when they bloom and you will never have another garden without Helleborus!!

Student Post, English Oak

This post is by Ngoc Ngo, who is also an accomplished photographer:

The English countryside is full of magnificent trees, and the English Oak , Quercus robur, is among the most majestic. Known to grow from the Urals and the Caucasus, from Mount Taurus and Mount Atlas, almost to the Arctic Circle, it is a tree full of historical and mythological associations. In ancient times, massive oak forests covered most of central Europe, and oak was the favorite timber of the Greeks and Romans. Being particularly prone to lightning strikes, the oak tree was associated with the supreme gods in many ancient cultures, including Zeus, Jupiter, and Thor. Ancient kings wore crowns of oak leaves to symbolize their roles as representatives of gods on earth. In ancient Rome, it was also the custom for commanders to wear crowns of oak leaves during their victory parades.



Historically, the English valued the oak for its strength and durability, which made excellent timber for building ships and churches. Much of Tudor architecture was built with oak. Because of their size and longevity, oak trees were often planted as boundary markers. Prominent oak trees were also used as the locations for the reading of the Gospel during ceremonies, leading to their being known as Gospel Oaks. The high tannin content of the oak bark was found to be useful for tanning leather during the Industrial Revolution. Other common uses for the bark included making brown ink and a tonic for treating harness sores on horses.

The cultural significance of oak trees in England is summed up by the historian Simon Schama; “Ancient Britons were thought to have worshipped them; righteous outlaws are sheltered by them; kings on the run hide in them; hearts of oak go to sea and win empires.” The oak is a symbol of strength, refuge, longevity and resilience. Robin Hood was reputed to hide in the hollow of an oak tree. King Charles the Second also found refuge in another hollow ancient oak tree near Boscobel on September 6, 1651 before successfully reclaiming his crown. The accommodating tree became known as the Royal Oak, and today there are countless pubs in England with the same name.



Botanically, Quercus robur is in the Fagaceae family. Its common name is English Oak, or Pedunculate Oak. Its size can reach 75 to 100 feet in height and width. Its leaves are alternate, simple, obovate to obovate-oblong, 2 to 5” long, with rounded lobes, rounded apex and auriculate to rounded base. The earlobe-like (auriculate) leaf base is a distinguishing feature from the otherwise similarly shaped Q. alba leaf. There are 3 to 7 pairs of veins on the leaf, which is dark green above and pale blue-green underneath. The bark is deeply furrowed and grayish black in color. Q. robur is monoecious, and the flowers appear 7-14 days after the leaves burst. Fertilized flowers develop into acorns of about 1” long, narrow elongated conical, enclosed by a cap. The acorns ripen in the autumn and fall on the ground before the leaves drop.

The Greek botanical writer Theophrastus, writing around 300 BC noted: “The oak bears more things beside its fruit than any other tree.” The complex ecosystem of an oak tree provides the habitat for at least 350 varieties of insect, more organisms than any other trees. The insects in turn attract birds. Caterpillars and moths also feed on oak leaves. In southern England, the oak trees also host colonies of the rare Purple Emperor Butterfly in the summer months. In the autumn, the acorns that fall to the ground provide an important food source for wood pigeons, rooks, squirrels, and mice, all of which in turn attract birds of prey, such as sparrow hawks and owls.



The life expectancy of an oak averages from 200 to 400 years; however, there are specimens aged over 800 years. The oldest oak in England is thought to be the Bowthorpe Oak in Bourne, which is estimated to be over 1,000 years old. My favorite is this beautiful specimen in the countryside of Sussex, south of London. The tree stands alone in an open field dissected by a public footpath. I have spent many wonderful hours walking along this footpath, and I am always happy to see the sight of this magnificent tree, a symbol of strength and a source of so much life.

Student Post, Cherrylaurel

We are just past the peak of autumn and most of the trees are bare. While there's no shortage of material to post about, this seems to be a good time to post some more blog entries from my students. First off, the cherrylaurel, by Pat Miller:

In Washington, DC it is de rigor for visitors to swoon over the famous Yoshino Cherries with their magnificent scent and flowers. Oh how they remind us of the chiffon dresses popular in the 1960’s. But on this trip, I was distracted by a plant I’d never seen before. Its leaves, a perfect shade of dark green, appear to stand smartly at attention guarding Jefferson’s Memorial while making a hedged path that frames the monument. The hedge is perfectly formal, yet surprisingly natural. And it perfectly complements the magnificent cherries.

Speaking of perfection, I found out the Landscape Designer’s name. It is Arthur Edwin Bye and he was my new hero, but the green-leafed beauty remained a mystery. Some 12 years after this journey to Washington, I am working at a nursery in Connecticut surrounded by trucks and workmen. It is early May and the men start to unload various shrubs from Hines Nursery. And there they were again; still green, still dazzling and standing at attention. B&B in all their glory with hundreds of fluffy white flowers. The plant looked fabulous to me and I couldn’t wait to bring one home.

Now my love can be properly identified: Prunus Lauroserasus, and this particular cultivar is ”Otto Luyken”. From that day forward I never stopped planting “Cherry Laurels’ in my clients’ gardens even though (it seems it was a lot colder back then) I was told they were not really “Winter Hardy” in Fairfield County.

Fast forward to Jen’s first class meeting at Bryant Park. It’s Fashion Week in the City and, wait, isn’t that Lindsey Lohan walking right through he Park!

Speaking of celebs, our first plant of the day is a “Cherry Laurel” all perky and bright resting underneath the canopy of a Dogwood. I toned down my excitement in front of my classmates but I could hardly control myself. There were some “Shot Holes “ in the leaves, which I’ll get to later, but they were nearly perfect specimens in a really low-light environment.




The great thing about “Laurels” besides the great leaves, great color and great habit is they can be planted in the sun or the shade, at least that’s been my experience. I now have 31 plants on my property and have planted dozens on others so I think I know what I’m talking about. In the US, the shrub is referred to as a “Cherry Laurel”, “Skip Laurel” or sometimes “English Laurel.” But in England, not surprisingly, they refer to it as Cherry Laurels.

Prunus laurocerasus , Rosaceae family.

“Otto Luykens” (Cherry Laurel) is named after the director of the “Hesse Tree Nurseries” (Baumschulen Hesse) in Weener (a town in Lower Saxony, Germany close to the Netherlands. His nursery bred the cherry laurel variety beginning in 1940 and introduced it to the trade in 1953. Royal Horticultural Society Award of Merit in 1968, Award of Garden Merit in 1984.

“Schipkaensis” (Skip Laurel) Selected in 1889 from Schipka Pass at 4,000’ near Kasanlik, Bulgaria by Spath of Berlin. Royal Horticultural Society Award of Merit in 1959.
They are indigenous to South Eastern Europe and Asia Minor. For more than 400 years they have been grown as hedges and ornamental garden shrubs in Europe.

“Otto Luyken “ has a compact habit and matures to 4’ high by 6’ wide but can be easily maintained and pruned to 3’ high by 4’ wide. The 4” long and 1” wide leaves are a very shiny dark green (holly –like in color). The plants are covered with fuzzy-feathery billowy fragrant creamy white flowers that appear heaviest during May on upright 2” to 5” spikes (racemes). A “raceme” is an inflorescence with stalked flowers, which radiate off a single unbranched stem. The individual flowers are cup shaped with 5 petals and are almost a half-inch across. The fruits are 1/2 in (1.3 cm) cherry like drupes (stone fruits) that ripen to dark purple. (Floridata) Some people like the fragrance and others find it offensive. It is a matter of opinion whether or not the flowers have a powerful fragrance or a rather offensive odor. Many people feel it smells sweetly of honey and Dirr calls it “sickeningly fragrant” To be honest; I’ve never even noticed a smell one way or another.



“Schipkaensis” is the more upright cultivar and has the same basic characteristics as the “Otto Luyken”. This shrub can reach 10’ high and 4’ to 5’ wide. I have seen it planted as an individual plant but it ‘s much more suitable as a hedge for screening. It’s a really nice alternative to arborvitae in many landscapes. Both cultivars are fast growing. The USDA hardiness zones vary from source to source but for the most part it averages between Zones 5-8, Skip is said to be the hardiest variety and is said to grow as far north as Chicago. I have experienced some winter sunburn (leaves turn brown) particularly when I have planted them on a north/west side of a house and an unprotected area. If I have any doubts about the location I usually spray them with an anti-desiccant (wilt-pruf) for the first year or two and then after they are established I leave them alone. I have even planted them near the coast and they seem to tolerate the salt sprays and all the wind that goes along with living by the sea.

Many sources list these shrubs for deer damage but my own personal experience (and I Bambi’s extended family was tripping through my yard for years) shows that they don’t bother with it because they can be toxic. Along with their great use as a hedge plant, I like to use them to cover a foundation Otto is an expellant plant for shady borders and mass plantings. Makes a great plant near homes, walkways and roads, as the roots will not damage foundations.
Laurels are susceptible to something called” Shot-hole” (as if someone shot a hole at the leaf). It is usually caused by the bacterium Pseudomonas syringae pv. mors-prunorum, which also causes bacterial canker. The disease is usually worst at the garden centers and nurseries due to the watering practices-overheard sprinklers. Once they are planted they usually do much better. Most of the sources say to avoid overhead irrigation and make sure you remove and distroy the fallen leaves. If you want to be really smart about it buy clean plants to begin with. I have seen plants covered with Shot hole after a long wet summer and it usually goes away, especially after a dry, cold winter. Identical symptoms can be caused by a minor fungal pathogen known as Stigmina carpophila. In general, they can deal with difficult growing conditions. They need to have moisture but do develop problems when they are in a wet environment (Dirr says they are prone to root rot in places with inadequate drainage) and I have found them to be drought tolerant once they are established in the garden.


It appears that the deer stay away for good reason. …….Water distilled from the leaves is used as almond flavoring and in perfumery. All parts of the plant contain hydrogen cyanide, a poison that gives almonds their characteristic flavor. This toxin is found mainly in the leaves and seed and is readily detected by its bitter taste. It is usually present in too small a quantity to do any harm but any very bitter seed or fruit should not be eaten. In small quantities it can stimulate respiration and improve digestion. I read that Cherry Laurel water has been used in Paris fraudulently to imitate the cordial, Kirsch. I bet that gets your heart racing
Unfortunately, there are those people who don’t share my opinion of the Laurel.
They refer to this wonderful shrub as “unsexy” and say it doesn’t scream, “buy me” at the nursery but I just shrug and comfort myself in the thought that if it was good enough for a guy with the stature of AE Bye it’s good enough for me.

The images accompanying this post came from plantings in my own yard and my favorite nursery where I bought and planted them successfully for twenty years.

Student Post, White Birch

The Betula papyrifera from the Betulaceae family (also called White Birch or Canoe Birch)
was one of the few trees that really caught my eye when I was a young boy. Arriving in
Canada at the age of 7 from Tunisia, this tree, more than any other, was visually fascinating.
Its leaning trunk, peeling bark, and, most importantly its bright chalky whiteness, stood in stark
contrast to the predominant maples, oaks, pines, spruces and firs located on the north side of
the St. Lawrence River in Quebec.

In Quebec’s cultural folklore, there is the legend of the flying canoe, made of birch, that soars
over the mountains to reunite separated lovers. Interestingly, the Laurentian Mountains located
north of the St. Lawrence River are the oldest mountain range in the world, dating back 5
billion years. They were once high altitude mountains and are now for the most part less than
3000 feet in elevation and home to many birches.

I soon learned the story of the European colonists arriving in the New World more than 400
years ago with their big sail boats and needing to find a way to navigate the smaller rivers and
lakes so dominant in this post glacial landscape. The Native Americans of the Northeast
taught them how to build canoes made from white birch bark that were both light and fast. The
bark of the birch can be easily unwrapped in one large piece from the trunk of the tree and
then attached to the canoe structure.

The fall color of the Canoe Birch is stunning. It is considered to be the second best Betula –
after the Betula lenta – for its fall color. When the yellow leaves and the white bark are
standing in front of a dark green conifer, the effect is remarkable. In the winter, the tree is
susceptible to breakage under heavy snow or ice. One winter, I remember the White Birch in
front of my house being completely hunched and curved to the point that the top of the tree
was touching the ground. Amazingly, the tree recovered and stood straight up within a few
days after the ice had melted.

During the first few bitterly cold winters that the Europeans colonists spent in North America,
they suffered from scurvy caused by a deficiency in Vitamin C. They were not prepared for the
harsh climate and had no vegetables or fruit to eat during the long winter months. Again, the
Native Americans helped by sharing their knowledge of local resources. Their recipe for
healing scurvy was a concoction made from birch bark. Today, the sap of the birch is collected
and used for cleansing therapy.

--Pierrick Absolonne

Student Post, River Birch

BETULA NIGRA (River birch), Betulaceae family

Betula nigra, what a discovery!

I did not know this tree. In fact, I did not know any trees (except for plane trees, Christmas trees (lol!) and the trees of my region – I am from the South of France - so, olive trees and lindens (tilleul)), before I met Jennifer.

Betula nigra is such a fascinating specimen.

It starts as a local story.

Originated from throughout the southeastern United States (from New Hampshire west to southern Minnesota, and south to northern Florida and east Texas), river birch is commonly found in flood plains or swamps (River birch is the most common species on the banks of disturbed streams in Tennessee), is closely associated with alluvial soils and grows near willows.

River birch wood is hard, strong but of limited commercial value since it is usually too knotty to be used for lumber. Its main uses are for local furniture manufacture, basket materials, small woodenware, and fuel.

Native Americans used the boiled sap as a sweetener similar to maple syrup, and the inner bark as a survival food.

Recently, Betula nigra (together with gray birches (Betula populifolia) have become the beloved of “modernist” (that is to say, minimalist) architects and landscape designers.

Why?

Its relatively small-diameter trunk, combined with the beauty of its bark – brown, reddish, pinkish bark peeling off in film-like papery curls all year round – provides for a sophisticated element of verticality in a space. Its papery texture refers to “art brut” and coexists extremely well with contemporary architecture.

Also, its branches are…black, which is quite dramatic,…

and drooping, particularly when they are wet with rain.

Foliage is delicate and lets the sun filter through, providing a light atmosphere to the ground where Betula nigra is planted.

Plant Characteristics:

40 to 60’ high and 25 to 35’ wide, with an oval, pyramidal, symmetrical canopy

fast grower, and likes sun. Monoeicious.

Leaf is simple, double serrated, ovate, deciduous, green in the summer and yellow in the fall.

If left unpruned, it often becomes multitrunked in its first or second year.

Tolerant to clay, loam, sand, acidic, extended flooding, low soil oxygen.

Pendulous catkins are characteristic. Producing abundant pollen and therefore contributing to hay fever.

Seed production and seedling development.

Good seed crops are usually produced annually. The winged seeds are wind or water disseminated. Water dissemination is probably more important because water deposits the seeds on moist shores favorable togermination and establishment. It is an early pioneer on stream bank alluvium, and requires high soil moisture coupled with no shade for germination and establishment.

“The most beautiful of American trees!”. That’s what Prince Maximilian thought of river birch when he toured North America before he became the short-lived Emperor of Mexico. I concur!

To end:

Let us not omit that Icelandic singer and actress Björk Guðmundsdóttir, known simply as Björk. She bears a fine, ancient Viking name meaning ‘birch tree’!

Student Post, Hornbeam

ODE TO THE HORNBEAM

One morning in an old neighborhood of Palo Alto, California, I came upon a hedge of trees that stopped my burn to Starbucks in my tracks. It was the most iridescent and mesmerizing fresh leaf green color I had ever seen, and had the form of a naturally topiaried tree. The tree was without any showy flower, or amazingly handsome bark or a fragrance that knocked me over, but almost had me in cardiac arrest. Wow! Botanical virginal green straight from God himself! It’s beauty has never failed me since frantically finding out its name, Carpinus betulus or the common name, ‘European Hornbeam’, and it’s splendor is implanted in my brain as the venations are on its leaf.

To say I’m ‘hornbeam struck’ is an understatement. Most of my landscape designs include at least a specimen or if the budget allows, an allee or hedge of the hornbeam. I validate this by pointing to it many wonderful qualities. Besides its magnificent fastigiate form, it tolerates a variety of soils, and culture suits zones 5-8 (where most people live, so you can most probably plant this at least as a specimen). It is slow growing but you will have it adorn this earth for at least 150 years after finally your own boots are put to rest. It’s a great tree to anchor surrounding plantings for all seasons and so often complements traditional and modern landscaping.

After more research of my beloved Carpinus betulus, I find out some more history and lore belonging to the tree. Fred Hageneder in his book,‘The Meaning of Trees’ (Duncan Baird Publishers: 2005) writes, ‘Latin carpinus is derived from Celtic car, q’er and carya, the ancient eastern Mediterranean goddess of wisdom.’ As the wood is extremely dense and durable another common name for Carpinus is ‘Ironwood’. In old times it was used for windmills, water cogs, axles and yokes for farm animals. The Cherokee used the astringent inner bark of the American hornbeam to treat discharges and urinary problems. Hageneder further mentions in ‘Europe hornbeam leaves have been used to treat wounds and stilled water from leaves as an eye lotion.’

In this age of instant gardens and impatience for nature to evolve before our eyes, it would be good to pause and put something in our designs that will last longer than 30 years. We probably will not enjoy its beauty at maturity but thank God gardeners and designers were thinking of our generation a hundred years ago so we may enjoy the heritage trees in our national parks today. I am biased towards the ‘must-have’ Hornbeam, but really you cannot go wrong with any of the classics like Beech, Japanese Stewartia, Chinese Elm and Quercus to name a few. Buy it, grow it, name it and if you want to, talk to it. I can assure you, if you pick the Hornbeam, alias ‘the goddess of wisdom’, it will give you much pleasure and delight.

Written by,

Horn.beaming

Student Post, Kapok Tree

Next up from my students, Hyunch Sung:

"The Space Inside a Tree: Ceiba petandra"

Ceiba petandra, family Bombacaceae, also known as the Kapok tree, grows in the tropical rain forests of Central and South America, Africa, and the West Indies. It grows very fast to over 100 feet and has nocturnal blooming flowers. With its giant trunk and spiring branches covered in fuzz resembling an insect's appendages, it appears as mythical as it is imagined and defined as being by the ancient Mayans.


Mayans believed that this tree served as a portal between the sky and the earth. It is often hollow because of the decay caused by the moisture from torrential, rainy seasons. Monkeys often live inside the hollows. The hollow of this tree creates space for the myth of entry through the different spheres.

The creation of super-space inside this tree is a human installation of super natural power. Nature's aspect as flora is often backdrop and/or pure science. Fauna usually play active roles in sacred storytelling. Ceiba petandra, however is not just backdrop or magical canopy. It is a passage between the world of above and the world below. It is a gate between the different layers of the natural world. This tree reminds me that we are walking through sustainable and living installations that are art and magic after committed transformation. The internal spaces and functions of plant material are abundant sources of inspiration for time-based installations and living sculptures.

by: Hyunch Sung
http://www.hyunchsung.com
http://www.videolandscape.blogspot.com

Student Post, Franklinia

Next up from my students' submissions is Todd Haiman's post (also can be found on his blog, Landscape Design + More) about the Franklinia.

********

There is much history surrounding this small, deciduous tree that has beautiful camellia-like late summer blossoms and striking orange to red fall foliage. All plants in cultivation today can be traced back to the original collection of naturalist, botanist and plant explorer, John Bartram in 1770. According to the Arnold Arboretum, “the species was discovered in southeast Georgia, along the Altahama River near Fort Barrington, on October 1, 1765, by John Bartram and his son William.

“I set off early in the morning for the Indian trading house, in the river St. Mary, and took the road up the NE side of the Alatamaha to Fort Barrington. I passed through a well-inhabited district, mostly live plantations, on the waters of the Cathead creek, a branch of the Alatamaha. On drawing near the fort, I was delighted at the appearance of two new beautiful shrubs, in all their graces.”

-Travels of John Bartram

Illustration of John Bartram

Bartram's illustration of Franklinia tree from the British Museum, 1788

The Bartrams carried some of the plants and seeds back to Philadelphia where they propagated the plant. When they returned to Georgia after the American Revolution, they could find no surviving examples. Every Franklinia in cultivation today is a direct link to the specimen found by John Bartram and his son William in 1765. The first successfully grown tree was given to its future namesake Benjamin Franklin. Dependent on which piece of history you read, the species became extinct in the wild somewhere between 1790 and 1803 due to land clearing and over-collecting by plant enthusiasts. No other plants have been found in the wild since 1791!

Franklinia has also endured a name change. Originally the specimen was named to honor Bartram’s friend and fellow member of the Philosophical Society -- Benjamin Franklin and the location where they found the specimen (near the mouth of the Altamaha river). Somewhere along the way Franklinia alatamaha evolved into Gordonia pubescens, then Gordonia altamaha by European botonists, but in 1925 it reverted back its original nomenclature. Of even greater detail is that the genus portion of its name is a misspelling (an additional” a”) of the Altamaha River that stuck!

Other reasons for the disappearance of the species from it’s native habitat include the following suggestion…”The good cold-hardiness of the surviving plants suggests that Franklinia may have originally been native to the north, but was forced to migrate southward during the Ice Ages to escape the extreme cold and the repeated advances of the ice sheets. But conditions in the south might have become less suitable for it after the Ice Ages ended. If it got stranded there, it might have begun to die out as the climate warmed again. The plants discovered by the Bartrams could be the last survivors of what was once a much larger population.”

I have also read that it responds adversely to a chemical produced by the cotton plant, therefore that might have led to its demise in the native woodlands of the south.

There is much legacy with this plant, as it was even featured on two different U.S. postage stamps, one of which was from 1969 -- back when you could actually mail a letter for 6¢!

“Bartram’s Garden”, the website of the John Bartram Association maintains a census report of Franklinias, whereby you may register your tree or those which are growing in commercial properties or public gardens.

What does all this mean? From a personal perspective, when I visit my brother-in-law David’s house in Bala Cynwyd, Pa. and gaze upon his Franklinia Tree, I know it comes from the same exact seed that Ben Franklin’s tree did, just up the road, a descendant from almost 250 years ago.

Student Post, Taxodium

Courtesy of Ken Missbrenner, kenmissbrenner.com

Knocked Kneed and Bald

I love this tree. Really.

The first time I ever noticed one was when I was working as a photographer at an old estate in Yonkers called Wave Hill.

There was (and hopefully still is) a gorgeous specimen planted out on the lawn not too far from where the couple getting married were holding their ceremony.

She possessed a distracting beauty. Graceful lines, an airy disposition and a radiant confidence. I’m referring to the tree. It was a mature specimen with a broad, pyramidal habit, an exquisite fine texture, feathery leaves and handsome gently peeling, reddish bark.

The ceremony wasn’t bad either but it took place under the punitive sun of a withering August afternoon.

I did not know that it was possible for the human body to sweat so much and still remain upright.

The tree didn’t seem to mind the southern swamp climate. It must have felt right at home under the conditions of its native coastal US Southeast. Pass the Mint Julep, please.

Several months later, while deeply ensconced in my ragged edition of Dirr’s Encyclopedia I identified the tree as a Bald Cypress.

I recall an image from the Dirr’s book showing the trees growing next to water where they had developed fantastic protrusions from the roots called “knees”.

Apparently, the “knees” help the tree to obtain the oxygen it needs when growing in wet conditions.

The memory of that photograph conjures up the distant sound of a banjo playing, the buzz of insects larger than birds, the fecund aroma of thick, swamp air and the visage of an ancient, shirtless, toothless man in overalls bent to the work of poling his battered, old skiff full of crayfish past slithering snakes and the glowing, wet orbs of semi-submerged alligators to a tin shack on stilts. Spanish moss hanging from every available branch. Deliverance Revisited.

That said there are two magnificent, majestic examples of the trees side-by-side at the south end of the Harlem Meer in Central Park. From swamp to city. No banjo music there. Hip Hop or Salsa is more likely. Shirtless old men, optional.

There are also two Bald Cypresses growing in my neighborhood in New York City. The tree planted this past spring shows all of the vigor and optimism of youth. It proudly displays its lush, green, feathery foliage and stands approximately twelve feet tall. The old tree that lives around the corner seems much more dour and likely to complain about the weather or your dog. The old tree stands a very leggy thirty feet tall and has a rather mangy habit. The Gingko trees on either side have been bullying it for a long time. The tree becomes almost insignificant in this situation. Given the space and the absence of competition, the young Bald Cypress should grow into a beautiful specimen and a worthy street tree.

The Bald Cypress will grow within Zones 4 through 9. The tree will be evergreen or semi-evergreen in the warmer zones and deciduous in the colder zones.

Keeping that in mind, a Bald Cypress in a northern climate will end up as bald as a cue ball. A single, naked tree might look good in the right setting but a group of trees could provide a rather striking structural element to the winter landscape. Bald Cypress, like most people, certainly look better with their clothes on.

A few of the images accompanying this post were taken in Battery Park where the Bald Cypress has been used very successfully in both specimen and in group plantings.

Battery Park is located at the bottom of Manhattan in a rather exposed location requiring tough, wind resistant plantings. Due to the park’s proximity to the ocean and the briny quality of the tidal river, I imagine that salt spray could also be an issue there. Nonetheless, I have to wonder about the viability of the trees in truly exposed coastal settings. The deciduous quality of the tree should protect it from desiccating winter winds. A close source of fresh water could keep the trees alive in that harsh environment and maybe even throw in a few knocked knees. Let me know.

The Bald Cypress is a wonderful and beautiful tree. Plant it. Enjoy it. Tell your friends.

Student Post, Sassafras

This summer, my students had a couple options for their final project. One option was to write a blog post for this site about a plant they admired and provide photos illustrating the plant's qualities. So I will be posting these now and then in the upcoming weeks.

First up is Jeannie Marcucci (jdm2142@columbia.edu), writing about Sassafras.

*****

Sassafras albidum, Common Sassafras Tree

This is one of my favorite trees. Until we bought our house I had never seen one and since it was October when we had settlement, the tree was a gorgeous red—so I had to ID it. The give-away were the mitten-shaped leaves, yet not all the leaves are shaped like this. Some of the leaves are more oval or elliptical. Fall color aside, the leaves are bright green or medium green.

I don’t know how old my tree is, but it’s about 15 feet tall right now. It blocks my view of the neighbor’s garage when it’s in full leaf, but in the winter, the habit of the tree, the asymmetrical branching, the sympodial branching (branches do not have terminal end, they just keep re-branching) is even more interesting. Since the tree was planted too close to that garage, it does lean a bit. I hope once the canopy is above the roof line of that garage it will straighten up some as it seems to be a very supple tree. I should also limb it up some, but the low canopy provides nice shelter for the birds.

In the spring, the squirrels love the fattened buds. I have watched them hang upside down by their hind legs to reach after particularly luscious samples. During the warm weather, the tree is host to lots of small birds. I was lucky enough to get a photo of some fruit, which I’m sure is why the birds have really been enjoying the tree more than usual of late. I have only seen a few seedling trees sprout, which to me indicates the birds are getting nearly every piece of fruit available.

In the two years we’ve been here, I have not seen any Japanese beetle damage, scale, mildew; it has been trouble free. I had applied leaf compost to the area under the tree this season and that seems to have brought some extra vigor to the tree; it does look like it’s grown a lot this year.