Grow Where You are Planted

Was harvesting some wood from a huge limb that had broken out of an old black locust tree nearby, when I saw this little plant:

[image credit Gary]

Somehow a seed blew into this recess, or was dropped there by a critter, and the plant took hold.

Not to be trite, but I am reminded of such positive attributes as tenacity, optimism, and courage.  I guess the take-away is to grow where you are planted, and grow well.

Tree Work...and Ultrarunning

NOTE: I guess Wednesday's post was a bit prophetic, coming as it did a day prior to the death of Prince.  He was truly a musical force and will be missed.

Now...on to today's post.  I did some blowdown removal along my section of the Appalachian Trail on Thursday.  The work just about kicked my butt: I was really whupped at the end of the day.  Tree count was about 7 trees on the ground across the trail, and another 3 leaning but not yet down.

This particular tangle involved the 4 trees you can see plus another out of sight below.  Thank goodness none exceeded about 12" in diameter.  This was a pretty straightforward cutting job.

[image credits Gary]

On the other hand, the blowdown pictured above was a bugger due to its sheer size, a dead oak some 28"-30" in diameter.  I thought carefully through the job and elected to make 2 cuts approx 4' apart (the width of the trail), then I'd roll the cut section away.

No dice.  While I was able to make the huge twin cuts without any issues (such as pinching my saw), when the log dropped I still had a pair of issues.  First, the log was simply far too big for me to muscle.  Plus it was kinda wedged or slotted between the standing tree on the left, the rocks on the trail, and the remaining unmovable ends of the downed tree.

The only solution was to make 2 more through cuts to render the big log into 3 smaller pieces that I could handle.

The connection to Ultrarunning, is of course, that trails do not maintain themselves.  It takes a legion of volunteers to construct and maintain the backcountry paths that we enjoy so much.

Bumper Crop of Walnuts

This year, the single Black Walnut tree I have in my old remnant of a farmer's woodlot has gone off the charts in its seed production.

[image credit Gary]

I've gathered a half wheelbarrow with the prospects for another.  Plus Mister Tristan (the 7 year old human being, not the blog), has gathered about a half 5-gal bucket's worth.  I hired him at 10 cents per walnut, but he kinda lost focus and motivation after about 50 or so.

He'll be here again in a couple days to renew the effort.  Oh, and the local squirrels benefit from the pile I will leave them.  They in turn will carry many of the walnuts back into my yard, following their instincts to bury them in the grass, flower beds, and any planters I don't bring in for the winter.  Any walnuts they don't recover for food later will eventually sprout, yielding a robust crop of walnut seedlings next spring.

The walnuts have to be gathered up, otherwise the lawnmower whacks them and sprays juicy green and black pieces all over (they stain, big time!).  Plus walking barefoot on walnuts is not too much fun.

Note that I have a similar acorn "problem" elsewhere on the estate with my treasured White Oak--this year its acorn production is also off the charts.  It's like trying to walk on marbles.

Ancient Trees...and Ultrarunning

Please go view the images of ancient trees on this site, then hop back.  The photographer is Beth Moon:

Standing as the earth’s largest and oldest living monuments, I believe these symbolic trees will take on a greater significance, especially at a time when our focus is directed at finding better ways to live with the environment.

Here's one example:

Did you catch your breath yet?  The words stunning, breathtaking, gorgeous, humbling, don't begin to cut it.

The link to Ultrarunning, of course, is that my backcountry runs here in PA are always in the forest.  Trees as far as the eye can see.  And because I am by nature anal about labeling and classification, I am good at tree identification.  Really good.

So as I trot around the woods I'm always looking for the unusual tree, meaning large, or unexpected in that location.  Like native American Chestnuts that are old enough to produce nuts before succumbing to blight.  Or a huge Eastern Hemlock tucked away in a precipitous, shady ravine.  Perhaps a southern tree too far north, or a northern tree too far south.

Natural History in Rome...and Ultrarunning

I must confess that the notion of Ultrarunning seldom crossed my mind while on our Europe excursion.  But two events come to mind: first, in the fabled Black Forest of Germany where I saw a trail snaking suggestively and alluringly into, well, the black forest (lower case).

Next was in Amsterdam where we found ourselves in the city on the very day of the Amsterdam Marathon with 40,000 of our closest running comrades.  More on both of these points later in a separate post.

No, today I want to discuss natural history.  My first love is biology (I do have a MS in the field that I never used professionally) so whenever I run, I am always ion the lookout for unusual plants and animals.

In Rome I was absoutely dumbfounded by what I believe are called Umbrella Pines, ubiquitous in Rome.  It's a tree that looks deciduous up its trunk, to the branching crown...but then the branches end in needles, not leaves.  My only experience with coniferous trees is that they grow straight up with small, regular lateral branches.

So, couple photos. In the first we see the trees in daylight; if you enlarge it you can probably see the needles, but can't quite make out the branching structure.

Image credit Gary, near the Vatican

In this daybreak shot from the window of our apartment, scope out the Umbrella Pines on the left, where you will see the branching effect quite clearly:

Image credit Gary, looking north from Via Babuino

That crazy Mother Nature!

Arbor Day Foundation Quotes

Probably from having attended an American Chestnut seminar last year, I've landed on the mailing list of the Arbor Day Foundation (link here).  They have a variety of worthy programs, all centered around the notion that "We inspire people to plant, nurture, and celebrate trees."

While I will unable to financially support them at this time, I loved the cards that were enclosed in the fundraising materials:

Going to the woods is going home.  --  John Muir

In wilderness is the preservation of the world.  --  Henry David Thoreau

He who plants a tree plants a hope.  --  Lucy Larcom

Do You Want to Feel Insignificant? The World's 2nd Biggest Tree

Ran across this video linked to from the Kim Komando techy site.  As I watched it I began to maybe get the tiniest inkling that humankind really doesn't matter all that much (except insofar as we have the capacity to destroy all these trees).





If the embedded player does not work, try this YouTube link, here.

I've run among the redwoods, and if that doesn't make you feel insignificant, you have no soul.  I envy our left coast Ultrarunning brothers and sisters and hope they never take for granted treasures such as these.

 

Eerie Trees

The view from my south window (photos by Gary):

 

 

And a bit closer up:

 

 

Sometimes in lieu of a run I take a short walk through this park beside my home, where there is a quarter-mile long trail through the remnants of an old farm woodlot.

 

These Black Locust trees--useful as they were to the farmer for virtually indestructible fence posts--always give me the willies when I pass under them.  Can't put my finger on exactly why, it's just a feeling I get.

 

 

Death of a Tree...and Ultrarunning

Here's what I was working on all last week. A large red oak in my front  yard had been slowly dying back in the crown for the past several years.  I had it diagnosed, but forget if it was bacterial, viral, or fungal...but it wasn't gonna ever get better.

Anyway, I had a tree guy come to take it down, then I proceeded to cut, split, stack and clean up.  Easier said than done....

First a look at the stump and a partial reveal--finally--of Mister Tristan, the 4 year old human being, not the blog:

[Oops, I accidentally cut off his head in the photo]

Here are a couple other shots that indicate the extent of the work:

 

 

 

 

I reckon this tree yielded nearly 6 cords of wood, which should cover my heating needs for next winter (2013-2014).  Thank goodness for chain saws and hydraulic wood splitters!  But it makes me wonder how the heck the first settlers of this land ever got it cleared enough for farming?

 

The link to Ultrarunning is that trees are so commonplace as to be below the radar when I am out in the backcountry.  See, here in PA "backcountry" means forested trails--we have no treeline or bald stony mountains.  So leave it up to a "domestic tree" in my yard to bring me back to reality.

 

When a tree of this size falls in the backcountry, it's a total non-event.  It just happens...and whether it makes a sound or anyone hears it remains a mystery.  But in my yard, it's almost a life event.

 

 

Don't Take Your Trees For Granted...and Ultrarunning

From a cool article in Boing Boing--which as I always say, should be on your daily reading list if it is not already: "Income inequality can be seen from space."

How? It's surprisingly simple. Turns out, demand for trees in neighborhoods behaves a lot like a luxury item, as opposed to a basic necessity.

Tim De Chant at The Per Square Mile blog wrote about research on this a couple of weeks ago. Then, he went out and found examples, using images from Google Earth.

Research published a few years ago shows a tight relationship between per capita income and forest cover.

...They found that for every 1 percent increase in per capita income, demand for forest cover increased by 1.76 percent. But when income dropped by the same amount, demand decreased by 1.26 percent. That’s a pretty tight correlation. The researchers reason that wealthier cities can afford more trees, both on private and public property. The well-to-do can afford larger lots, which in turn can support more trees. On the public side, cities with larger tax bases can afford to plant and maintain more trees.

The trouble, as De Chant points out, is that the disparity here is about more than aesthetics. It's about air quality, cooling effects in the summer, and documented impacts on stress, crime, and quality of life. It's also interesting because it seems to go against the stereotype of wealthy suburbs where all vegetation has been eliminated in favor of houses.

So the next time you cuss out a tree root for making a horizontal Ultrarunner out of you, please give a thought to the folks for whom trees are a luxury, not something simply taken for granted.

 

When I Am Among the Trees...and Ultrarunning

Yes, it's another poetry post, and I just did one last week.  Have I suddenly begun to despise my readers?

Fear not, this is another good one (also from Hecate, here) , short, and you in all likelihood will not need to fire up the DELETE key.

When I Am Among the Trees - Mary Oliver

When I am among the trees,

especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness,
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,

in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
 
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.

 And they call again, "It's simple," they say,

"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."


Trees--Ultrarunning--what's not to like?  And the trees DO save me.

 

Why Trees Matter...and Ultrarunning

From the March-April issue of Sierra, the Sierra Club's magazine, but I forget the particular article of column:

There's something about being near a massive coast redwood, its spire impossibly tall, or a broad sequoia, with its lava flow of soft, knobby bark, that evokes a visceral response.  It's less like viewing a tree and more like stumbling on a geologic wonder, an arboreal version of the Grand Canyon or Niagara Falls.  People use their library voices while walking among redwoods.  Maybe it's being in the presence of something that can outlive 50 human generations--a single tree, standing now in the Sierra Nevada, born during the Bronze Age, and whose grandfather shed its cocoa-colored cones before recorded history.

This is why trees matter. We have a solemn duty to protect and bequeath to successive generations the best of the natural world.  As Rachel Carson said, "Conservation is a cause that has no end.  There is not point at which we say, 'Our work is finished.'"

Oh, and the link to Ultrarunning is obvious.  When you're running among trees, somehow you feel protected and sheltered.  Trees never seem sinister or foreboding; they are always benign and welcoming.  That's why running on forested courses is so comfortable, like slipping on an old shoe, or running with a dear friend.