Tree Report: Losing an Old Tree

It isn’t the grandest tree or the oldest tree. I’m not even sure what kind of tree it is.  Some type of apple, I think.

It stands about 20 feet tall with a 15-foot spread, just right for its space:  it anchors both the corner of a barn and a smaller side lawn. And is tough enough to have weathered decades of harsh New England winters and the cutting of several of its large branches that had probably fallen victim to previous storms.

Then came the heavy rain and high winds that pummeled the area the day after Easter this year.

I was working from home, sitting at a desk with a view of the front lawn. Just a few small branches had fallen by mid-afternoon, a small miracle. Periodically, I looked outside to see if any trees near the house had sustained serious damage but didn’t see (or hear) anything that concerned me.

Then, in the early evening, my sister noticed that this beautiful tree was split.

I’d like to conserve everything here. Nature, however, will always ultimately control what gets conserved and for how long.

A Suitable Replacement – Just in Case

Part of me thinks my brother can saw off the almost-severed branch, then the lopsided tree will be fine. Under that scenario, the remaining heavy branch won’t create such an imbalance as to pose a threat to people or property. The most hopeful part of me thinks I can fasten some kind of tourniquet around the tree which will then mend it itself together again.

Truthfully, I don’t think either option will work long-term. I’m trying to make peace with the high probability that even though the tree is still in front of me, it’s really already gone.

I hate to lose old trees. They’re so singularly appealing that I can’t think of anything that can readily replace one – except another tree.

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So, as upset as I was to discover the substantial damage to this tree, I also began thinking almost immediately of a suitable substitute, if needed. Off the top of my head, I considered the following three possibilities. Coincidentally, they’re all growing here so they’re all free!

The Young Crabapple

It’s growing in the middle of the “connector field” between the main house and the little house. The biggest negative is that it’s rather spindly, and I’d prefer something more substantial to fill the space. Since it’s a pain to mow around in its current location, I’m pretty sure I’ll transplant it to the edge of a hayfield in the next year or two.

The Old Crabapple

At least, that’s what I think the tree in the below photo is.  I don’t recall it ever bearing fruit, maybe because there’s no compatible pollinator nearby. And, as often happens when I envision the size of specific plants or areas of the property, I was wildly off about this tree until I was actually standing in front of it. This potential substitute is much larger than I thought, too big to transplant on my own, and may not even survive the trauma of being uprooted.

The Poorly Positioned Lilac

I don’t think any of my lilac varieties is a tree, but some are big enough that they may as well be.  One lilac bush is poorly positioned near a row of large deciduous trees. At this time of year, it gets a decent amount of sunlight, but once the trees’ leaves unfurl, it’s in a pretty heavily shaded area. I think this is why it isn’t thriving and has never blossomed. The new location offers full sun.

I’ve wanted to transplant this lilac for years. And yet, I’m not convinced that this is the best substitute for the split tree.  A row of smaller lilac bushes already borders the barn, behind the tree in question, and I’d like keep a bit more variety here.  And, as I noted above, I really would like a more substantial plant there so it doesn’t look too empty.

Other Small Standouts

My next possibilities will likely cost a fair amount of money since I’d want a decent-sized specimen. Though I usually prefer native plants, I’m not a purist:

1. Azalea. This is my sister’s suggestion. Although I don’t care for rhododendrons, I love azaleas’ colorful blooms. It isn’t a tree either, but I may be patient enough to plant a cultivar that will resemble a small tree several years from now. Evergreen and deciduous varieties both seem to do well around here. Our mother planted an evergreen azalea with bright purplish pink blossoms near her and my father’s bedroom window decades ago, and it’s still going strong. And I have a big deciduous azalea with pale violet blooms at my house.
2. Kousa Dogwood. Several mature specimens border the main lawn and have an outstanding display of white blooms.
3. Japanese Maple. Two or three of these show offs grow at the end of a long garden bed across from the main house.
4. Magnolia.  I don’t know which cultivar could work for this space, but every magnolia tree I’ve ever seen has spectacular blossoms.
5. Redbud.  There are so many varieties, and they all seem to have lovely blooms.  One of my local nurseries usually offers dozens of Eastern Redbuds of varying sizes.
6. Hawthorn.   I’ve only seen photos of this tree, but I think it would be a splendid accent next to the lilac bushes and the old barn.
7. Japanese Tree Lilac. I do love lilacs! Maybe a lilac tree in front of a row of lilac bushes would be just fine after all…

Next Steps

So, what will I do with this tree? I’ll ask my brother to saw off the split branch if my tourniquet idea turns out to be pure fantasy.

And if I lose the tree altogether, I have no idea what I’ll put in its place. However, just knowing there are so many beautiful substitutes will likely reduce the sting of the loss. It might also lessen future inevitable heartache as other trees will eventually succumb to age, pests, animals, disease and/or weather.

Photographs of this property from over a century ago show an array of massive trees (and, at one point, an impressive group of flowering dogwoods) long since gone. And yet, there are so many worthy successors here today. Previous conscientious owners made sure of that though they knew they’d never see the full fruits of their labors. It’s my turn to continue that steadfast tradition.