The Shapes of Trees

Trees edging the north ravine

I spent several hours Wednesday afternoon pruning roses and removing frost blighted annuals from various pots and tubs near the front porch. 

Later I walked the loop path around the front and back meadows.

It is in this time of year that I become very aware of the structure and shape of trees as leaves fall and bare branches are etched against the sky. 

The papery chalices of the tulip poplar cling long after the stiff bright blooms of early spring fade, still there after leaves have turned golden and drifted to the ground.

This hickory lost most of its leaves earlier than some on the property. 

Clusters of polished brown nuts still garnish the limbs, though many have fallen to the ground below, crunching under our shoes as we walk along the path.

In my native Vermont most of the hickories were of the distinctive 'shag-bark' variety, more easily identified.

On Tuesday, striding along near the north-west boundary line, I halted as a swoosh of leaves gusted down and a group of startled sparrows flew up from the scrubby underbrush. For a few seconds there was a mingling of swirling leaves and small fluttering bodies.

Burning bush [euonymous alatus] has naturalized in hedgerows and woods, the seeds eaten and dispersed by birds.

At our first Kentucky home former owners had brought one hardy specimen from the woods and planted it outside the dining area sliding glass doors. Untrimmed for several years it had grown to touch the eaves of the small one-story cottage. I managed to lop it down to the height of the door and a pair of cardinals promptly established a nest there. A rather undistinguished shrub through much of the year it blazes into crimson glory in autumn.

 

The gardener/landscaper who covets them can spend quite a bit on various hybrid cultivars sold in nursery pots. 

I've been toying with the thought of establishing several along the west side of the house where my prior  gardening efforts have been less than impressive. 

I trundled down carrying a shovel, pried up a fairly small specimen, and interred it at the end of a terraced bed. I had poked my head in the shop and mentioned to Jim that with all his variety of tractors and equipment it was a pity he didn't have a 'digger' that could scoop out the shrubs I wanted.

I was surprised when he popped round the edge of the house and announced that he was willing to serve as 'the digger!'

There were plenty of shrubs of different sizes to choose from growing just beyond the path.

J. announced that he 'wouldn't do this for just anybody!'

I was meant to be impressed!

I was sent to fetch the old wheelbarrow and load each disinterred bush.

Jim set in three large ones in a line under my west bedroom window while I arranged several smaller ones along the raised bed.

Thimble-cat heard us working outside the window, climbed onto the sill and poked grey paws through the partly opened sash, stood on her head, smacked at the glass, wanting our attention.

Its a bit late in the fall to be transplanting although the ground seldom freezes to more than a depth of several inches. The native burning bush seems to have a rather shallow spreading root system, fairly easy to move.

It will be sometime in the spring before I know if the transplants have taken; pruning and shaping will be needed. I don't know the growth rate.  My hope is that the shrubs will fill in, making a loose hedge, providing shelter for birds. 

I had previously planted up one of the large black bins hoping it would provide blooms outside the window. At that time we placed flat creek rocks around the edge of the bin and beneath the window area. 

Today Jim shoved the bin aside to make room for a burning bush--the tractor will be needed to haul the bin to a more useful location.

I pried up many of the flat stones and carried them around front, fitting them carefully over the soil in the planter tubs. That should deter the outside cats from using the planters as winter latrines. They can stretch out on the warm rocks on sunny days and trot off to the edge of the garden to do their 'business!'

Landscaping and gardening are on-going projects. Plants that may flourish for several seasons suddenly fade away or are overtaken by those that are more vigorous. Some plants simply aren't happy with the soil, available sunlight, or moisture in the area where I have optimistically plonked them. 

There will likely be a few more warm afternoons when I can continue tidying and trimming, meanwhile pondering what the next gardening season may hold.

For the next several months I will be idling along the path, head tipped back to admire the trees as they raise bare branches skyward.