Invasion of Color

I've lived in California for 39 years. When I go back to Missouri (pronounced Mazzuhra

by the locals) in the fall I'm reminded of the amazing display of fall color in that almost

entirely deciduous forest. In California, near the coast, we have to rely on exotics from

ecosystems near and far. One of the trees now blazing away is the ornamental Chinese

Pistache (Pistacia chinensis). Here are two photos of this stunning introduction from

parts of China. Enjoy it while you can. In Texas it's considered an invasive plant.

It's showing up in Sacramento riparian habits as an escapee.

Soon to be on the hit list of the native plant enthusiasts in California.

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Bean Hole Beans (?!)

It’s end of summer and the rainy season roared in with a vengeance—three to 15 inches of rain in northern CA. Great start to the rainy season. Didn’t add hardly anything to the reservoirs and thus the drought continues.

Alas, the beginning of the rainy season means the end to the “bean hole” season. I’ve been cooking beans underground in a Dutch oven buried under 12 inches of sand for 20-24 hours for over 15 years. People beg me to prepare a pot of bean-hole beans when they are invited to an evening of food and conviviality.

I started by digging hole big enough to be able to line it with bricks and still have enough space to accommodate a Dutch oven with room to spare. My hole is lined with bricks and as well as the bottom and is about 24 inches deep.

I soak the beans for at least 2 days and change the water two to four times, I cheat a bit and use a pressure cooker to soften the beans a bit, but make sure they are still firm. (These steps plus the slow cooking time seem to make for flatulence-free beans.)

The next part of the “recipe” starts with a large fire fed by scrap wood–hardwoods work the best–to develop a huge pile of hot coals and to store plenty of heat in the bricks. Takes 3-4 hours depending on the wood. (I live in dry-land forest. For protection, I make a cone of ¼ inch hardware clothe to trap the occasional drifting ember. There’s also a gravel four-foot radius circle around the bean hole for extra protection. And I hose down the nearest foliage.)

Next I take out ½ of the coals into a metal wheelbarrow. Put the Dutch oven filled with the “secret” bean mixture in with a few layers of moist newspaper to protect from getting sand in the Dutch oven. Then the rest of the coals go back on top of the Dutch oven. Sand is added to mound up to 12 inches above the top of the Dutch oven. The beans slow cook for 20-24 hours for eating the next evening.

[Footnote: I found some discarded clay features that look like a large spine. I added them next to the bean hole to prove this was an ancient BBQ place dating back generations and when lost Italians in the 1800s (many of my neighbors are Italian) stopped to feed themselves.]

Here, never revealed before is my “secret recipe” for the bean-hole beans.

Bean Hole Beans Recipe

2# beans, kidney, black, or white (slightly pre-cooked in a pressure cooker)

½# bacon (Can be deleted by vegetarians, vegans, the overweight, or potential heart attack victims.)

3 TBS Mustard

¾ TBS black pepper, freshly ground

½ cup dark molasses

2 (or more) large heads of garlic, peeled and diced into big chunks or left whole

1 cup of your favorite hot sauce

1TBS chopped rosemary leaves

1 TBS or less, fresh-ground French roast coffee grounds (The real secrete ingredient.

Combine all the ingredients and fill the Dutch oven.

My oven is big enough to feed six to eight people, depending on their waist size.

You can cook the beans for hours in a Dutch oven in an oven. But where’s the fun in that!

Enjoy!

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Oaks, Watered to Death

I rained 4+ inches yesterday. This got me thinking about water and native coastal oak trees.

I live in the arid Mediterranean zone of California where the oak trees get no rain from May through September. To native oaks, summer water is a poison which can quickly kill. These trees spent a millennium, or more, evolving to thrive without summer rain. In the process, oaks were able to tolerate a number of hitchhiking fungal hosts. These predatory mycelium—examples include crown, armillaria, and heart rots—need two things to thrive: moisture and warm soil. As evolution arranged it, the soil is plenty moist during the wet California winters—but too cold to promote fungal growth. During the dry summer, the soil is warm enough to stimulate fungal growth, but the upper layer of the soil has dried out enough to retard most fungi. These seasonal alternations insure that there's very little time when both necessary ingredients are in abundance together. Thus whatever limited amount of fungus survives is not enough to threaten the 300 year life expectancy of the oak.

Adding irrigation in the summer insures the rapid growth of the sometimes fatal fungi. There is little more unnatural than watering beneath a oak tree in the summer. Such trees can die from rot in 25 to 50 years—a rather quick demise for something that could live another 100 to 300 years. Most houses are owned by two or three families in the quarter century it takes the tree to slowly die. Thus, the actual culprit who installed the irrigation system isn't around when the tree meets its brutal end.

One of the debates about oak trees revolves around how far away summer irrigation should be kept from an oak's trunk. The conservative answer is a zone free from summer irrigation for radius of six to eight feet from the trunk. Yet the more prudent gardener would agree that an unirrigated area equal to the width of the canopy—called the dripline—is the minimum distance. As described in my book Roots Demystified, the greater portion of any tree's roots, especially the majority of the tiny absorbing root hairs, are well beyond the dripline. In a heavy clay soil; roots, as a general rule, roots growth half again as wide as the dripline. A sandy soil, because of its lower resistance to root penetration, allows tree roots to grow as much as three times wider than the canopy. If nature selected oaks for no summer water, than the natural landscaper should avoid all summer water within the entire root system—up to three times the canopy's width, or more. Alas, if there are two or more oak trees on the typical suburban yard, this means the entire yard should be irrigation free—period. This brings up the delicate art of denial. Most homeowners rationalize—if they even give it any consideration—that some lawn or a few irrigated shrubs under part of the oak's foliage is alright. But this does shorten the oak's natural life—period

Fortunately, nature has developed plenty of species of plants which thrive beneath California oaks without summer moisture. The trick is to plant these special plants in the fall, in October or early November, so the winter rains can establish a healthy root system before the parched winds of summer arrive.

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Persimmons & More

I love persimmons. The first crops are coming into the specialty supermarkets. Soon, I'll be eating some from my own trees. I was fortunate enough to visit and taste some of the 81 varieties in the Wolfskill collection near Davis, CA.

The photo on the left documents that foggy, exciting day. The one on the right is just a few of the rare varieties of persimmons.

The Wolfskill collection is a fascinating occurrence between the private sector (Francis Wolfskill’s) and the public sector (the University of California at Davis.)

In 1934, when John Wolfskill’s daughter Francis died, she left approximately one hundred and seven acres of the grant to the Department of Pomology of the University of California, Davis, with the understanding that the property was to be used as an experimental horticulture station and the line of olive trees planted by Wolfskill in 1861 was to remain standing.

The collection is a virtual Noah's Ark of common and uncommon fruits and nuts such as:

As of 2009:

Actinidia (kiwi) 79

Diospyros (persimmon) 81

Eriobotrya (loquats) 36

Ficus (figs) 303

Juglans (walnuts) 552

Morus & Maclura (mulberries) 69

Olea (olives) 148

Pistacia (pistachio) 239

Prunus (all stone fruits) 1457

Wingnut (Pterocarya stenoptera, used to develop rot-resistant walnut rootstocks) 31

Punica (pomegranate) 180

Vitis (grapes) 3113

TOTAL # of varieties in the entire collection = 6309

USDA National Clonal Germplasm Repository (NCGR),
Wolfskill Ranch,
4334 Putah Creek Rd., Winters, CA

Here’s how to get some scions for your edible landscape:

Almost all plant material from the Davis gene bank is distributed as cuttings and deadlines for orders are those appropriate for such cuttings. These cuttings must be rooted or grafted/budded to produce a plant. Material of Juglans, Pistacia, and most Prunus are very difficult to root and the recipient must obtain appropriate rootstocks prior to receipt of scion cuttings.

Domestic orders are sent Priority Overnight by Federal Express. A packing list and certificate of quarantine compliance are shipped with the plant material when required. When orders are shipped within the U.S, it is necessary for the recipient to obtain and submit a Fed Ex account number. Fed Ex account numbers may be obtained by calling 1-800-GO-FEDEX.

Please indicate dormant cuttings, budwood/scionwood, or summer cuttings or budwood. Please use accession numbers when ordering material. Orders for dormant cuttings or budwood must be received by December 1^st, and are shipped in January/February. Orders for summer budwood/cuttings and open-pollinated seeds must be received by May 1^st, and are shipped in June-August. Orders for pollen must be received by January 31^st, and are shipped at appropriate times for each crop.

*Summer request for Punica and Morus germplasm should only be made if propagation will occur under mist.

*Due to great demand for dormant cuttings and their higher rooting success rate, we will no longer have routine distribution of Ficus summer cuttings.

Please be sure to include a phone number, email address, and Fed Ex/DHL account number.

Orders must be submitted via email to Bernie Prins (bernard.prins@ars.usda.gov)

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Santolina

Some sub-shrubs last–even thrive–in our deer-ridden, drought-resistant landscape. One of my favorites is Santolina. Lavender Cotton better known as just Grey Santolina (Santolina chamaecyparissus) shows up in most of my designs as it is also free of pests. Pictured on the left is a mixture of Grey and Green (Santolina virens) Santolinas in bloom. This was planted in 1983. The photo on the right is 26 years later. The foliage was still in pretty good shape. Down at the base is a trunk over four inches in diameter. Pretty good life for a wonderful plant.

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Spooky

It’s getting to be Halloween time. Here’s a fun arrangement from Maxine’s eccentric garden. Always the theme of death in eccentric gardens. As mentioned in my blog of September 14^th 2009. Enjoy.

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Shame on Bambi

Oh deer! (Old pun. Sorry) The bane of a forest gardener. As discussed in my blog of May 4^th 2009, lots of plants that were deer resistant in my garden are now readily consumed or dead. I lost all my red-hot poker plants (Kniphofia uvaria), also known as torch lily, over time. They went untouched for maybe 12 years when the deer started to nibble on the leaves. Soon all the leaves were eaten to the ground and no flowers ever formed. They were eaten so severely that the plants eventually died.

Now 10 years later it’s all starting over. The victim this time is the fortnight lily (Dietes iridioides). What’s so amazing is that one plant is untouched (on the left) while, only 40 feet away, another fortnight lily is being heavily grazed. Notice the number of severed leaves on the right. I predict that it will take only five years or less before the plant is too heavily browsed to survive. I like this perennial plant as one of the few straight, vertical lines in my garden. Drat. I’ll have to come up with another “deer-proof” vertical accent plant for these two guardians of the straight lines.

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A Chinese Puzzle

In 1998, my Dad & I went to China—before the outbreak of hideous air pollution. Our on-the bus-off-the-bus tour was misleading because we toured mostly cities—not the rural, farming communities which make up 70 percent of China’s population of over 1.2 billion. Where there are no cities or towns, there are provincial farms—especially during our cruise up the Yangtze River.

What was unexpected was the corn. Rows and rows of corn planted five to eight feet apart, but always planted straight up-and-down the slopes, not on the contour. Our guide Paul remarked that the corn was used expressly for feeding hogs for market. But the steepness of these unmulched slopes with a nitrogen-hungry crop was completely boggling to my gardening experience. With no mulch present on such precipitous hills, it was plain to see why, in part, the Yangtze River was a silty, murky-brown color. I wondered if vertical rows was a time-honored tradition, or a recent plundering of the soil’s fertility before the Yangtze River dam (which is now the world’s largest) inundates the area. The answer wasn’t available from our urbane guide, another enigma in this land of contrasts.

But, in talking with: Mr. Joshua Muldavin, Professor of Geology, Co-Chair of International Development Studies, UC Los Angeles, CA.

(Fluent in Chinese, spent seven years in China, talked directly with farmers along Yangtze river.)

I found out:

“The lower areas near the river have poorer soil and are prone to flooding. So, the farmers don’t want to invest the time and effort required for terraces. The terracing is done higher, above the flood zone. Also, the vertical rows allow the water from a storm’s deluge to go directly into the river. Contour planting collects water in the furrows between the rows of mounded soil where the seed is planted, this often leads to root rot. Sometimes the collected water in the furrows breaks through, washing some of the corn away—along with the soil of the planting mound.”

Who would have guessed it? Not me!

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Garden Angel

This is another unique sculpture carved by the wonderfully-eccentric Marcia Donahue in Berekely, CA. See also the blog entitled "Rot". The arms can be moved to suit your mood. There are two sculptures, one acts as a shadow of the other one.

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Indicating Past Fires

I’m chopping firewood and remembering all the old native Pacific madron trees (Arbutus menziesii) that used to grace pockets of the forest around my house. The trees rarely occur in pure stands. Some had trunks three feet or more in diameter at breast height (DBH). (I don't know who's breast.) Over the past 22 years all but a handful have died a natural death and were resurrected as firewood.

At only 80-100 years, these are so short-lived trees compared to the mixed coastal oak (Quercus agrifolia), Douglas-fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii), tanoak (Lithocarpus densiflorus), the California coast redwood (Sequoia semperviren) – with a DBH of 8-25 feet - and California bay trees (Umbellularia californica) in “my” forest. This is because the madrone, while drought resistant, is a colonizer of fire-scorched earth. They are among some of the first trees to sprout after a fire. It is said the seeds need fire to germinate. (However, most germination in nurseries is done by freezing the seed before planting in flats or tree tubes.) These trees at first grow more rapidly than the Douglas fir trees associated with a more mature forest. They help to stabilize the soil. Eventually the Douglas fir trees grow above the madrones and shade them to death.

To maintain madrone in a mixed Douglas fir, oak, and redwood forest, the tree needs fire. Not a firestorm in the tops of mature trees, but frequent fires about every five to 50 years. Pacific madrone depends, on these periodic fires to eliminate or greatly reduce the beginning of a Douglas fir overstory.

However, the forest here hasn’t burned in over 100 years. (A 1/2-acre fire last week a mere two miles from my house was quickly extinguished. What a close call and a relief!) The amount of “kindling” (dead trees and shrubs as well as the invasion of foreigners along parts of the forest’s edge like Scotch broom (Cytisus scoparius), which act like little balls of standing gasoline because they burn so easily and hot) on the ground is tremendous. When the next fire comes the burning grasses or Scotch broom will leap up the trunks of the trees to form a crown, or canopy, firestorm. Nothing, except the noble redwoods, will be left. Including my house.

This photo is of one of the few Pacific madrone trees left on the property as it snakes toward sunlight from beneath the maturing Douglas fir trees.

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Winterize Your Drip

It got down to 36F here last night. So, it's almost that time of the year when light frosts begin to glaze the flowers. Soon many parts the country will be having hard freezes.

I've outlined how to get your drip system as described my book Drip Irrigation for Every Landscape & All Climates. Here's an excerpt.

A proper drip irrigation system is too valuable to leave neglected like an abandoned garden hose at each winter’s nippy return. Shut off your system’s water supply at a point inside the house where the water supply is protected from freezing. Loosen all unions at each main assembly to drain all water out of the pipes, filters, pressure regulators, and check valves. Make sure you don’t loose the O-ring which seals each union. Be sure to open the flush ball valve on the Y-filter so the filter chamber doesn’t crack. Better yet, bring the filter or the entire main assembly indoors. Also bring inside any battery-powered controllers which you have attached to faucets.

The drip irrigation hose can stay in place in the landscape, but as much water as possible should be drained out. The photo on the left shows draining a system with a figure eight closer device. Open the end-closures on all lines, let all water drain out, and close. Start at the highest elevation and work downhill. I prefer to use threaded end caps because the Figure-8 end closures (The photo on the left. Not my finger nails.) will quickly wear out the kinked end of the hose. I prefer the threaded end cap for its strength. (The photo on the right.) It’s essential that the water is drained from every low point of the system.

A deep mulch will help protect in cold winter climates. You don’t want anyone stepping on cold plastic tubing, but since many drip systems are primarily located in perennial plantings, the risk of trampling the tubing is low. Some compulsive people do lift out the entire assembly of header and lateral lines, roll up the tubing and store it in the garage for the winter. Porous pipe and in-line emitter tubing make this a lot easier than hose with emitters punched in or hose with, God forbid, spaghetti tubing with emitters.

If possible, lay out your drip irrigation lines so they can all be drained from the low ends. Otherwise, install your drip lines so they naturally drain to various low spots, install an access box at the lowest spot in each line of the system for the winter. Install a manual drain-down valve a simple ball valve. Each fall, the metal drip irrigation ball valve should be opened to fully drain the line.

Lonnie Zamora, a former rooftop-gardener and irrigation designer in New York City, used drip irrigation for over four years on most of his jobs, even in the flower boxes for a penthouse on the 27th floor of a Manhattan apartment building. To winterize his client’s drip irrigation systems each fall, he would:

l Drain the pressure regulator.

l Close the faucet at the home’s wall.

l Attach a 110VAC air compressor with the necessary fittings to the female hose thread at the beginning of the drip system.

l Set the timer to run each line or zone for five to seven minutes.

l Run the air compressor pumps at 25 psi or less to blow out all the lines.

l Manually drain all lines on multilevel, terraced gardens.

l Open the Y-filter’s ball valve to drain the filter cartridge chamber.

Finito!

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Lavender Butcher?

I’m trying another bold experiment. Radical pruning of aging lavenders. I tried this two years ago and it worked. However, this plant (Lavandula angustifolia ‘Munstead’) is much bigger.

I was consumed by finishing my drip irrigation book (Drip Irrigation for Every Landscape and All Climates, revised 2009.) and traveling back-and-forth to St. Louis to help my Dad and greatly neglected my lavender plantings. They got heavy with bloom on long stems. They sort of flopped open a bit. This allowed the sun to cause tiny buds to grow far down into the plant. On stems many might call “dead” wood. (See the photo on the left after removing most of the foliage.) But far down the stems the unpruned plant sprouted many very tiny buds, as seen on the other two photos.

These tiny buds grew on a small plant I pruned this way two years ago and nobody suspects it use to look like the photo on the left.

So, the guy who wrote the lavender book (The Lavender Garden, Chronicle Books, 1998) is disobeying his own guidelines about leaving three to five healthy buds just above the mature leaves. Ha. It’s never too late to experiment.

We had a week of 90-100F days after this pruning experiment. So, I don’t know how the lavender will react. But it does look well right now. I’ll keep you posted on another blog.

(PLEASE, don’t do this in cold-weather climates. It’ll probably kill the poor plant. Just for us west-coast gardeners near the ocean to try.)

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Falling for Fall...well, sort of

The heat waves of the past month have produced a semi-deciduous forest. The leaves pictured here belong to the native bay tree (Umbellularia californica) - also known as 'pepperwood', 'California laurel' and, in Oregon, 'Oregon myrtle', or simply myrtle. This is NOT the leaf found in the store that is sold as a bay leaf (Laurus nobilis). This is yet another late summer drought strategy to reduce the surface area transpiring ever-dimensioning moisture supplies. The lane that leads to my house is littered after a strong wind with needles of the redwoods and the leaves of bay trees. But many needles and leaves remain in this evergreen forest.

We do have leaf fall in my neck of the woods. It’s just a few: the native horse chestnut (Aesculus californica), thimbleberry (Rubus parviflorus), wild currants (Ribes spp.), spice bush (Calycanthus occidentalis), and maple (Acer macrophyllum). The colors appear washed out or muddy if there is too much heat. A cool, late summer will make the maples glow yellow against a dark-green evergreen forest. The horse chestnut loses all its shriveled-up brown leaves a month or two before the chance of rain as a drought-protective “strategy”. The only bright and clear colors come from the poison oak (Toxicodendron diversilobum) snaking up a Douglas fir or Coast oak, with the most vibrant reds and oranges of any other native plant around my house.

Back in the ‘70s I was experimenting with friends on wild, native, and lesser-known edibles. We skinned the bay fruit, slit the seed’s skin, extracted the nut and proceeded to cook it in a pan until almost a coffee substitute. Tasted “interesting”. It seemed to be only a last-ditch survival food. Little did we know that some lists and books consider the California bay tree to be a toxic plant. This includes the leaves that we so naively used as a free substitute in a sauce for spaghetti – long before it was called “pasta”.

Except for this uncontrollable twitch, I seem fine. So it probably didn’t effect me.

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A Carnival of Trees

Some horticulturists exhibit superior technical skill. Others possess monumental drive. A very few manifest pure art. Axel Erlandson, a 20th-century visionary who sculpted trees into never-before-seen shapes, combined all of these traits. This retired surveyor and nurseryman literally bent nature to his will, creating a body of work unrivaled in the history of horticulture. Over a 20-year period, Erlandson grafted, shaped and pruned 70 trees on a quarter-acre lot in Scott's Valley, California, into the most amazing shapes. In time, this fantastic collection came to be known simply as "The Tree Circus." Legacy or lunacy? Serious horticulture or pure theater? It's all in the eye of the beholder.

It's hard to describe what Erlandson actually did with trees. Although he used grafting on occasion, his Fellinisque forms also required careful bending, shaping and tying to armatures. He used pleaching (plaiting or interlacing limbs, usually to form arbors) to join together many parts of each living sculpture into a single fabulously-patterned tree. The word topiary applies to clipped and shaped foliage, but here the foliage grows mostly above the main "composition" of limb and trunk. His techniques defy neat classification.

In his early 40s, he began a hobby sculpting living trees. In 1946, due to the promise of developing a roadside attraction and a more hospitable climate along the coast, he and his wife Leona moved 75 miles west. Erlandson barerooted and transplanted nine "living sculptures", the fruits of 20 years' work in Turlock, to new land in Scotts Valley.

The collection was dubbed the "Tree Circus" by Erlandson's daughter Wilma after listening to the comments of guests. Her father devoted himself full-time to his trees, and never put off a visitor He draped sheets to isolate each tree for photographs.

How Erlandson trained the trees is mostly based upon the recollections of a few contemporaries and horticultural deduction, as he jealously guarded his "trade secrets." In Scotts Valley he started many specimens behind a privacy fence, and each grafted or pleached union was wrapped in cloth bandages, not only to protect the healing wound from the sun but to conceal his technique.

Erlandson died virtually broke. From 1947 through 1963 only about 1500 visitors came through in a good year." Though he tried to sell the place in the last few years, he never trained anyone in his methods. A year later, he put up a sign inviting visitors to "See the World's Strangest Trees Here."

Hearing that a developer planned to clear the trees, nurseryman Michael Bonfante purchased them in 1985, and 30 of the healthiest specimens were boxed up and transported to Bonfante's Tree Haven Nursery. Now a horticultural “Amusement Park” near Gilroy, CA. (Some of the 28 which survived the move are pictured here.) Bonfante has replanted these rarest of trees in an amusement park slated for a neighboring parcel, hopefully the final home for the last living "performers" in Axel Erlandson's Tree Circus.

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The Spread of Lavender

These are photographs of the Cloisters in New City and the outside the present-day Abbey of Senanque, Near Gordes, Provence. Tucked away in the background of the Cloister’s gardens is a lavender plant. This authentic reconstruction of an Abbey, including the food and medicinal gardens. This lavender is often referred to as “English” lavender. It is associated with England with the large industry that once carpeted England’s agricultural lands.

This species of lavender (more accurately Lavandula angustifolia.) never originated in England. It’s true “modern” –see below- origins are from far away in the upper altitudes of the southern Alps in France. In the “regionale” of Provance.

As mentioned in my book The Lavender Garden, on a special sale on my web site, “In spite of over 2500 years of recorded use, the origins of lavender are shrouded in mystery. Some varieties of the plant are thought to have first been domesticated in Arabia. It may then have traveled with Greek traders of around 600 BC to what are now the Hyères Islands on the southern coast of France, from whence it spread to the areas now known as France, Italy, and Spain.” (All a matter of great discussion. Let me know what you think is the early history, origins of lavender.)

The botanical name comes from the Latin word for "to wash". The Romans used it to disinfect their baths. Some think it is most likely the Romans brought it with them when they conquered England. The medicinal gardens of various Monasteries and Abbies incorporated “English” lavender into their plantings. The common names of various species named after countries, especially English and French, are at least ambiguous – if not flat wrong. Knowing the Latin name is the only way to be 100% sure you have the correct variety. The medicinal lavender is only Lavandula angustifolia, not the inferior lavandines such as “Grosso”pictured on the left. It is really Lavandula X intermedia “Grosso”.

Some of the medicinal uses of Lavandula angustifolia by the monks include: anti-spasmolytic, antiseptic, carminative powers, restlessness, insomnia, nervous stomach irritations, Roehmheld's syndrome, meteorism, nervous intestinal discomfort, and lack of appetite

The Cloisters in NYC are a testament to empire-building and religious-herbal gardens for the spread of this favored herb.

(NOTE: If you go to the Cloisters, be prepared for a huge surprise. The buildings are surrounded by many busy streets on two sides. The photos never prepare one for the intense din surrounding this former holy place.)

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Splitting in the Wind

The Douglas Fir tree in the left photo didn’t commit suicide. It was just “squeezed" off by the other poorly attached branches. This phenomena is called included bark – and occurs on defective V-shaped crotches in which the bark grows inward and on itself, causing a physical weakness when the co-dominant leaders meet. [Two vertical trunks about the same height.]

Notice the fallen branch was sharing the same area of the trunk with three other branches. This tree was topped during a wind storm some 40 to 60 years ago. The loss of the single leader [tallest, vertical shoot] caused four side limbs to compete to become the new leader. In the process, the interior tissue had to share increasingly smaller amounts of tissue. This lead to a structural weakness that allowed a slight wind to cause one of the limbs to jetison. The close up shows the darkened wood where the attachment was very weak.

The photo on the right is a Liquidambar tree [also known as a Sweet Gum tree in the Midwest] that exhibits the same problem – included bark. As mentioned above this happens when two shoots share the same location of growth. The trick to preventing this, as cabling is not an option, is to buy trees without two trunks attached at the same point. Or, prune off one of the leaders when the tree is young.

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NOTE: The comments section at the bottom of the post has disappeared. Click on the "___ Comments" button or the title under the "Blog Archives". Thanks, Robert