Officially winter ends today. I think winter finished on Aug 6 or 7, that is 46 days or half of 3 months after the winter solstice, but they aren't going to change it because I have differing logic.
Our young and recently planted Tulip tree (Liriodendron) burst its leaf buds 3 days ago. I bought this tree bare rooted to plant in Nobelius Park last winter (2005). It was to replace one that I'd planted a few weeks earlier but was stolen. The stolen one was planted to replace one that was removed because my predecessor, old Gus, had planted it too close to a large liquidamber, and, because its base bark was damaged by buffoons on tractor mowers, it was not worth the huge expense of moving it. Better to start off with a new one, my arbourist said, and plant it away a bit. I put the new one in a large pot temporarily, not the ideal but better than having it too stolen, with a view to plant it in the autumn at leaf drop, by which time the thief may have moved on or fallen under a truck. For those who don't know, I am curator of Nobelius Heritage Park, an honourary position, as a part of the management committee of this council owned land.
In the meantime, a Vegetation Management plan for the park was started and during conversation with the consultant doing the plan I realized we had plenty of tulip trees in the park and there were higher priorities and limited space. With this on board and a heightened awareness of trees, in particular tulip trees which were never previously high on my list of favourites, come the autumn I saw fresh butter yellow tulip trees all over the district.
I was so impressed I planted the tulip tree at home, to replace a 25yo claret ash, the first tree we planted after our house was built. The ash tree never had coloured up well in autumn but gave precious late afternoon shade to the house in summer so it will be missed for a few years until the tulip tree gains some height. Lib wouldn't entertain any notion of removing the ash, but I finally talked her around, explaining the tulip tree is a quick grower and there's a golden ash attaining some height further from the house and in line with the late summer sun, and my arborist friend Steve agreed the claret ash was of poor form and would cause limb dropping problems in the future. Off came it's head and it will be part off next winter's firewood.
With this background, the new tulip tree is special to me and will be nurtured. One of the things I feel very fortunate about is that my life's path has involved me in planting trees. Our farm, which in 1972 was six and a half acres of weeds, a treeless, former potato paddock, is now a productive garden woodland of hundreds of trees and shrubs. Some of the first trees we planted, English oaks and pinoaks, which Meredith grew fom acorns have been removed because of the massive size they attained in 30 years, taking over the garden and resticting other more productive plants. When the garden is your livelihood you have to constantly renovate and refresh. I do the same at home on our acre and a half. And in the 12 acre Nob. Park the same role came my way, not in creating a commercial garden, but to maintain, improve and preserve the park for the future.
Of course I'd never been familiar with tulip trees because the foliage is of no market value, it doesn't 'keep' in the vase, and it doesn't produce edible nuts or fruit. So we have none at the farm. But the new addition at home is there for shade and autumn colour and I'll enjoy seeing its growth each year, as I do with other trees I plant.
My tree book describes the tulip tree well.
"You can hardly grow a more adaptable or less demanding tree, or one that grows faster. In the wild it grows in the Great Smokies and along the Ohio river, but its range reaches fom the Great Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico. Ideally it likes deep loose soil and a wet spring. A seedling with its prayers answered has grown 50 feet in 11 years, but tulip trees will soldier on in polluted air, mutilated by amateur tree surgeons, in disease (they catch few) and drought (provided there is a moist subsoil). They offer an individuality that makes one think of the gingko. There is no other leaf quite this shape. It keeps an even fresh medium green from spring to autumn then changes to a clear light yellow. As for the tulips, which open in May or June (northern hem.) it's a pity they are not often in reach: they are sumptuous flowers, beloved by bees, with pale green petals opening to show a soft orange lining and a noble array of parts."
Something tells me our tulip tree will have it's prayers answered.
