Oy Vey.
Tragedy doesn’t know the day of the week. Bad things can happen at any moment and yesterday turned out to be quite the moment. My beautiful junk tree is committing suicide quietly in the back yard right under my watchful eye.
And so, the story begins.
Winterpast is lush this year. For new readers, “Winterpast” is the name of my home which sits on 1/2 acre of land groomed to Martha Stewart – English Garden status. Well, not quite yet, but every inch IS landscaped. There are paths, roses and 23 trees. Truthfully, there are 25 trees, but, I kept quiet about two of them.
With all the spring rain, everything is thriving. The fruit trees have never looked so great. Loaded with hundreds of plums and apricots, they are looking great. All the trees, except for one of them. Sitting center stage along the back fence, I care for a 25′ Russian Olive. I’ve learned that some states have outlawed this tree, considering it an invasive species. Okay, fine for them. My tree invaded this space about 16 years ago and is now too big to ignore.
I love this tree this tree, as it grows right in the middle of the high plains of Northwestern Nevada. It’s managed to thrive through desert heat and brutal winters. Until 2023. The neighbor hates my tree, having told me so many times. Secretly, it makes me love my tree that much more.
The tree has been failing while the others were thriving. Yesterday was the day something had to be done. Now, if you think going to the emergency vet is expensive, just try a tree doctor on a Sunday afternoon. Or, just get out the chain saw. It would be cheaper.
I’m connected to my neighborhood through an online program called Nextdoor. I’m just learning about the program, and put out an SOS for my failing tree. Right away a suggested name popped up with many other comments that told me he was the guy I needed, so I called to leave a message.
He called right back. On a very late Sunday afternoon. He would be right over.
I learned so many things in a short period of time, my mind was on overload.
Within five minutes of being on the property, he discovered many problems. The tree was strangling itself with its own roots. This wasn’t helped by the rock and black plastic keeping the noxious weeds under control. As he ripped open the plastic to expose beautiful, big roots, I could almost feel the tree take a deep breath. The plastic around the trees would need to go. ASAP. Another tree was also suffering, just not as bad.
The second problem had to do with all the beetles that were living under the plastic around the roots. Opportunistic freeloaders were living in the tree and killing it.
The last problem was the big one. Girdling Roots. The roots weren’t going out to look for water, they were circling the tree. This had been going on a very long time, as the problem roots had made indentations on the bark. As he dug away the dirt around the roots, amazingly huge anchors were explosed. All of a sudden, this tree looked like a real tree. The roots were as amazing as the 25 feet above the ground.
With his trusty ax, he lovingly pruned the roots, chopping off the bad ones.
He pointed out many things about the other trees in my yard. The cherry trees have the softest wood and are under attack of the beetles. Every tree in my yard needs spray. The Russian Olive is so sick, she needs injections and a trim. My apricot tree is the most lovely one he’s ever seen.
What’s a non-smoking, non-vacationing, non-gambling gardening gal to do? The grounds of Winterpast saved me on many days over the last three years. Gardening is my passion and Winterpast my true love. The trees will not die under my watch. Not without a fight.
We made a deal as the sun was setting over the desert mountains. He’ll be back as soon as possible to treat all the trees, except the two that are hiding on the side of the house. For the next few days, I’ll be removing some black plastic to expose the roots.
The roses have had so much pampering, they need to take a back seat for a minute. My Russian Olive needs me.
As he was leaving, we turned around to look at her. I felt that she was already sighing in relief while waving a little “Thank You”. It will take a few months for her to recover from this.
A poem comes to mind that CC gave me when I started teaching. It seems appropriate here.
DEEP ROOTS
“When I die,”
She said,
“I’m coming back
as a tree
with
deep
roots
And
I’ll wave
my leaves at
the children
every morning
on their way to
school
and
whisper
tree songs at night in
their dreams.
Trees with deep roots know
about the things
children need.”
B. Andreas — 1993
Yes, trees know a lot about what widows need, as well.
Whatever you do today, check on your trees. Really look at them and make sure they are thriving. Do some reading and learn about them. Make sure they haven’t decided to commit suicide right in front of you like my sweet Russian Olive. While you’re at it, spend some time in the garden. It’s good for what ails you.
More tomorrow.