January 2014
Dismembered limbs, trunks in oddly leaning postures, some painfully prostrate and unable to right themselves. Others still breathing but gasping to absorb replenishing carbon dioxide, their ether of life. Susceptible to insects and wood rot through broken branches and wounds, they are in a race to beat back these aggressors. Desperate to thwart the inevitable, at least for a while, for they know deep in their phloem only the strongest survive in the wild.
Those that succumb will decay quickly in the moist atmosphere of our woods. Marked disturbingly with mushrooms protruding from cavities in the body, these trees are on the way to becoming compost on the forest floor.
These scenarios are most poignant in a trek through winter’s landscape, when misshapen and mangled trees are most easily seen. A walk through a local wood can unveil a full spectrum of the life stages of the trees growing within them.
Such visits prompt many emotions. Some elicit deep sympathy –for majestic crowns snapped off in a major storm.
Some, sadness — for those unable to support themselves in soils saturated by relentless heavy rains.
Compassion — for the innocents crushed or twisted in the fall of a neighbor.
And further, reverence — for the largest and strongest in the Stand of whose branches cushioned a lucky few that fell into into their arms. Their lives now forever entwined, growing over and around each other until death do them part.
In another realm, city trees are left to fend for themselves. Planted in hostile environments, they must also deal with restricted root growth, noxious pollutants, and the general indignities of dogs. Those planted within a planned community or park might be treated a bit better but are still subjected to the ever-present environmental stresses that will age them prematurely.
Conversely, prized and pampered suburban trees suffer less than their wild and urban cousins. A damaged tree on a residential property is likely to receive aid through fertilizing, chemical sprays and regular pruning. Compared to the other two locales, their lives are generally less stressful and long-lived.
Winter hikes are more than just macabre visits into a bleak wasteland. They are a seque for the anticipation of Spring’s renewal and hope. Successive walks in February and March will reveal a forest floor coming alive with saplings of a new generation, finding their way through the unmistakable physical history of their neighborhood.
Surrounded by their fallen elders, most will manage to become upstanding citizens of the wild.
