Preface to this post:
Hello again. It has been four years since I've written anything for this blog. Maybe it's because I've been busy doing, instead of talking about doing, or else I just haven't felt like documenting or writing. Maybe it's a little bit of "running away with my tail between my legs" as a failing gardener. It's a humbling endeavor, even in the midst of some great successes. I've thought of erasing the previous posts and starting over, but I guess I won't in case they could be valuable. I have documented plenty of my gardening and homesteading activities on my Instagram account, but I'm currently enjoying a break from that platform.
Anyway I've had the itch to write recently. If the itch continues, I'll likely update you on some garden improvements and additions in due time. For me, writing is a nice way to process my thoughts, and that's my main motivation in doing it. I'm not a great writer. But hopefully my words are interesting and perhaps educational for others, in addition to helping me work through my thoughts.
The actual post:
Gifts of our Maple Tree
I was recently listening to an interview of Dr. Zach Bush and he mentioned Charles Massy's book on regenerative agriculture as one of his favorite accounts of the earth's remarkable ability to heal. I looked up Massy and checked out his book Call of The Reed Warbler from the local library. I'm really enjoying the book. It began with some history of the Aborigines, particularly their amazing way of living on the driest continent on earth for thousands of years without degrading the land.
In the chapter he tells a story of when Aboriginal Ngarigo elder Ron Mason visited his farm. Massy brought Mason to the last remaining of seven Kurrajong trees that once stood on the farm. These Kurrajong trees were planted by Mason's ancestors outside their natural range. They were very important food and fiber trees for his people. Mason spent some time with the tree and the author describes the deep emotional experience Mason had in that moment.
This inspiring account left me with a desire to have such relationships with my local plants and trees, and animals for that matter. I contemplated the maple tree in our backyard and was really amazed at the generosity of the tree and I'd like to share my thoughts.
Technical note:
I've decided to use the pronoun "ki" when referring to this tree. This comes from a chapter in Robin Wall Kimmerer's book Braiding Sweetgrass in which she discusses the problems of referring to plants as "it". She came up with the pronouns "ki" and the plural "kin", "ki" relating to "chi" (life energy) and "kin" as in relatives. Since reading that chapter I've had difficulty using "it" when talking about plants and have tried to avoid it if possible. Now's my chance. Apologies if it's distracting. Braiding Sweetgrass is an excellent book. I highly recommend reading it, especially if you have a thirst for American Indian culture and views.
The tree I'm writing about is a maple tree, a Crimson King Norway Maple. Acer platanoides 'Crimson King' is the botanical name. You've seen kin in the suburbs before - the maples with the dark maroon-colored leaves. This one is about 40 feet tall with about a 25 foot spread and a trunk about 18 inches in diameter. My guess is that ki was planted by the Joseph's (the previous owners of our house) sometime in the 1970s or 1980s but I really can't be sure - Crimson Kings don't get much taller than 40 feet. Ki's leaves are not quite as purple as some I've seen - they're more of a deep dark green, although the new leaves in the Spring are bright red-purple. Those new leaves are so wonderful to see emerge each Spring.
Norway maples get hated on a lot around here as they spread by seed prolifically. Some of my neighbors have Norway maple fences - saplings that didn't get weeded out of chainlink fences have grown into dense and tall barriers - perhaps desireable for some; local building codes limit fence height to 6 feet, but there's no height limit for Norway maples now is there? We have a huge Norway maple growing out from under the neighbor's garage that does drop a lot of seed. We would have a maple and black locust forest here if we didn't intervene. I'm not sure if our Crimson King's seeds would grow true to type - the small saplings appear to have green leaves, like the regular Norway maples. Either the seeds are not true to type or the saplings require some maturing before the leaves would be purple. Some claim that Norway maples produce a chemical that inhibits the growth of other plants around them, similar to the Juglone of Black Walnut trees. Some say that low growth around the maples is due to dense shade they cast. I'm prone to believe the latter, noting that in our yard other plants seem to be doing fine unless they're directly shaded by the maples.
I've often wished our Crimson King was a persimmon tree, or a chesnut, or some other kind of nut-bearing tree. But upon contemplation inspired by the story I read in Call of the Reed Warbler, I've realized that the gifts ki provides are pretty remarkable. This tree requires no imputs from us. Zero. All ki needed was to be planted and watered that first year, which was done long before we were here. And now ki provides us with an abundance of gifts, some of which I will list below:
