On Seeing The Forest And Seeing The Trees

(But I was not in the forest, only the park.)

They say that you cannot see the forest for the trees meaning that you are paying too much attention to the details to see the larger picture.  I get the gist of the idiom, but to really see the forest you must also see the trees. There is no either or. The mind is like the eye in its amazing capacity to switch focus from near to far, and to perceive also, however dimly, those things just sneaking up off to the side and at the edges.

Joe dragged me to Prospect Park to see the blooming witchhazel and I so I went out for the flowers (yay!) but also saw the trees. Joe also brought home a book from the library which I have swiped out from under him, The Man who Planted Trees by Jim Robbins with a subtitle Lost Groves, Champion Trees and an Urgent Plan to Save the Planet. I expect it will switch back and forth from specific beetles and regional forest die-offs to global perspectives, particular species and things in between, notably one man's quest to clone the world's champion trees (I read the bookflap). I expect to oscillate between being sad and hopeful, wanting to read it whole and taking my time with it. There is no either or.

On the books cover is an image of a tree cutting in a test tube presumably one of those cuttings from a Champion tree. Or to put it another way, there is an image of a small piece of one big tree.

Recovering

 After a week spent indoors and one illness after another, a late afternoon recovery walk to Prospect Park brought me by a most sweet-smelling Camellia on Eastern Parkway, grass catching the last light of the day in front of the Brooklyn Central library and a massive tree stump in the park that looked like it had a story or two to tell.

The air was cold but the sun on my face felt so much like a warm welcome that it seemed liked it had to be trying to comfort me. I don't formally practice a faith, but you wouldn't be far off if you said I was something of a sun worshipper.

From One Year to the Next, A Cherry, Prospect Park

Last year, I stood at the foot of this very same ornamental Cherry (I'm going to go with Okame cherry, it's definitely an early one) in Prospect Park on the opposite ends of one week and snapped some similar photos. The difference between last year and this one? (besides my having to rely on a phonecamera and not the real thing this year?) About a month. The tree is not yet in full bloom, though, the earliest of flowers are open on it. Looks like I'm going to have to just start officially calling it spring and amping up the minutes of paying serious attention outside now. If it's going to be a fast onset to spring, I don't want to miss it. (Also spotted yesterday, the first leaves on a crabapple and a magnolia bud opening at Brooklyn Botanic.)

The Inspiration for Velcro

                                 Lesser Burdock (Arctium minus) seed head January, Prospect Park

and one of Joe's favorite treats (not the seed head, but the roots) at Gen, our local Japanese restaurant. At least that's what I think these seed heads hanging around in January are.

Counting Seasons

We draw hard lines between the seasons on a calendar and we mark our own time in years in the same way too. But the seasons bleed into each other, with evidence of last year's autumn via lingering seed heads on this year's winter day and still future plants just seeds waving in the wind. My best friend's son turned a year old today and he is just beginning to walk and to name the world around him. Now I've been wandering around on two feet for many more seasons than him, but still in some ways I too am just figuring out the world around me.

Rosemary Blooms Still Lingering At the Zoo

                                              Rosemary, Early January, Prospect Park Zoo

There were sea lions being fed too very nearby, if you're into that kind of thing and what kid isn't.

What Am I Looking At?

Yesterday, on a walk with Susan, the first of what I'm sure will be the many plant mysteries of the year. What could possibly be blooming at the start of the new year in Prospect Park? It seems like some kind of Viburnum. I thought the branching was opposite, but I think I'll have to return to see if I can find some more clues.

Last Year There Was Snow on the Ground

This year on the same day, there is the only the coldest weather of the season so far and clear ground. If I was in Prospect Park right now as the sun nears setting on the day, I wonder if I'd be looking at the same things as last year. Would I be counting pine needles, looking at tree silhouettes for clues on identification, or admiring Magnolia buds catching the last light of the day? Probably. One could spend years and years on end, a lifetime really, just getting to know some of what there is in just this one city park. It's a small thing to pay attention to what's growing around you in the moment, a winter bud, branching patterns, or the number of needles on a pine, a tiny thing really, but you are connecting to something bigger with the practice too. I have plans to go for a walk in the park with Susan tomorrow. The goal as always is just to see a little bit more of what there is.

Gleaning and Prospect Park, 2011

Normally, my gleanings in Prospect Park are simply the information gathered about what is budding or blooming. But there have been a few times this year when I've gleaned in the park in a way that is closer to the idea of gleaning in the fields or gathering what is left for waste but still usable. The latest example of this kind of gleaning are the Magnolia branches with buds in the vase above. On a bike ride in the park I had passed some branches on the ground left by parks workers, who I'm assuming were pruning as part of park maintenance, whether for the health of the trees or safety of park users and workers. They hadn't been hauled away yet and I just clipped the tips of a few of these cut branches to bring home for a vase.

Below, two similar rides in the park in late winter and early spring offered opportunities for salvaging, but the reasons I was able to gather those times were not because of park work, but normal wear and tear of the year. In both instances, I found branches recently damaged by wind or weather and was able to bring home some blooming witchhazel and the amazing early growth of a young Buckeye.

(This post was inspired by my recent watching of a film by Agnes Varda, which made me think of her beautiful documentary film, "The Gleaners and I".)

The Latest Bloomer of Prospect Park

Hamamelis virginiana

I've only been following its bloom in the park for the last three years, but early November is when I keep my eye out for it. This week on a bike ride, I finally noticed our native witchhazel blooming. The blooms aren't as showy as many of the winter-blooming hybrids, but its delicate flowers make it a native to look out for in the fall.

Riding in Circles

Red Maple Flowering as winter turned to spring, Prospect Park

You don't get anywhere riding in circles in Prospect Park, but getting somewhere isn't the point of every bike ride. I ride in the park to train primarily, and after hundreds of laps through the years, the loop is like an old friend. Now that I garden though, rides have another purpose and there are certain trees I keep an eye out for through the seasons. Here's one from this year: A Red Maple (Acer rubrum), one of the earliest blooming trees as winter gave way to spring this year (March 20th), and again, this week as the leaves on that same early bloomer are changing and falling.

At the Beech in Fall and Winter

Beech Tree, Fall, Prospect Park

I went for a ride in Prospect Park yesterday, breathing a little hard and checking out the fall color, and I ended up beside the same beautiful Beech I admired on my first fair-weathered winter ride of this year. On that mid-February day I saw my first blooms of the year as well. The park is pretty magnificent right now and this fall is turning out pretty well, despite the freak October snowstorm.

Beech Tree, Winter, Prospect Park

On Goldenrod

Solidago speciosa, a garden gift from Susan in today's what's blooming bouquet

The time of goldenrod is long. This year, I saw my first goldenrod blooms in late July on the road to Saratoga and just this week in September, the Solidago speciosa (Showy Goldenrod) from Susan in my own garden began blooming. (I clipped only a little, leaving most of it in the garden for the local pollinators.) Yesterday, while taking a flower break from riding laps in Prospect Park, I couldn't even count the species I saw visiting this pollinator favorite. But I saw a new Syrphid fly and a wasp I'd never seen before just standing before those sunny native blooms for a few minutes.

Syrphid fly probably in Genus Eristalis on Goldenrod in Prospect Park, Brooklyn

Unmistakable, Tulip Tree of Prospect Park

There are a lot of reasons to be excited about the Tulip Trees (Liriodendron tulipifera) of Prospect Park, not the least of which is that the species is a majestic towering native with spectacular blooms. What I particularly like is that this tree is unmistakable, identifiable with obvious characteristics in all seasons. Below, the flower reveals its lineage clearly and anyone who has ever looked closely at a Magnolia flower could at least guess that the trees are related. (In fact, they share a family, the Magnoliaceae.)

Still Waiting

on a bloom or to find a good tree identification book in order to make the call on my mystery berry-making tree in Prospect Park. When I first saw the tree growing in Prospect Park, I thought perhaps it might be an Amelanchier. But it hasn't flowered yet like the others around town and the leaves, which have grown, don't quite fit the bill either. My latest guess is the Chokeberry, (Aronia arbutifolia), an East Coast native. I know it's going to make berries like the ones pictured below and I think the fuzzy underside of the leaves in the bottom picture might be the best clue. But I'm still not sure yet. Pretty sure I should see a bunch of white flowers on the tree though soon. I just have to remember to look for it when biking through the park.

Buckeye Fever

There's something magical about the Buckeyes (Aesculus sps.) and their relative, the Horsechestnut in early spring. Above is a picture of some fresh leaves on a young Buckeye in Prospect Park, only a few days since the leaf buds opened. Below a bud just a little behind in development, with the leaves not quite unfolded. (And for an amazing shot from last spring of a bud from this genus, which gets quite big right before opening, rivaling even the beauty of the magnolia's buds, check out Rebecca Bullene's photo from Brooklyn Botanic. Wow.)




































Every season you might as well go and fall in love with a tree or a flower, some bark or a bud. Right now I'm crazy about what I think is a million-dollar branch on my windowsill. That Buckeye branch is the prettiest thing. Surely the leaves right now rival even the aristocratic Japanese Maple? I'm pretty sure my ID is right on this one.

Some Weeks

it seems like a lot happens. Others not so much. This week was one of those weeks that you could blink and when you opened your eyes the world around you looked different. Above, one of the blooming cherries near the Grand Army entrance to Prospect Park and below, the flower buds on the same tree last weekend.





Of all the weeks to get outside and pay attention to spring, the upcoming few are ones I don't want to miss for the opportunity to be both dazzled by the beauty, but also to learn more about the trees and plants around me. There are a few trees I am hoping to identify by their flowers and leaves. I realize that this spring explosion happens every year but it seems pretty spectacular this time round, like all the buds on the trees are supersized. Even the side of the road near the Belt Parkway and Plumb Beach bike lane looks dreamy and pastoral right now and it's filled with mostly weedy species like henbit and deadnettle, wild garlic and dandelions. (I love this bike lane and have loved biking in this spot for the past 9 years or so. I wish the city or the state or whoever is in charge would fix it properly.)

Laps Among Early Bloomers of Prospect Park

Male flowers on a Red Maple, me thinks.

Among the yellow haze of the blooming Cornelian Dogwoods and the bright Red Maples flowering in Prosect Park, there were some salmon blooms. I first thought perhaps it was a different early-flowering maple, but now I think it might be a Red Maple with all male flowers. Apparently, the Red Maple is polygamo-dioecious (say that three times fast), with some trees bearing only male or female flowers (dioecious) and some trees bearing flowers of both sexes (monoecious). I see only anthers on the flowers on the tree pictured above and below, so I'm pretty sure it's a tree with only male flowers, but I'm not sure that it's a Red Maple. Maybe there's a Pink Maple (nah) or perhaps it's a Silver Maple, which also blooms early and flowers like the Red Maple.





The other sightings on a crisp-weathered bike ride were the yellow blooms of the Cornelian Dogwood in closeup above and one of the first Magnolias in the park to bloom below. (There was one flower completely open at the top of the Magnolia and if you look closely at the picture below, you can see the hint of white in another just beginning to open.) I seem to remember seeing a Magnolia on the east side of the park blooming just a bit earlier than some of the others last year.

Yellowwood Again

Freshly cut Yellowwood, Prospect Park

There's always something to see on bike rides in the park. How about some beautiful yellow heartwood, recently cut from the Cladrastis kentukea near the lake? Last year's bloom time in Prospect Park? Mid-May. Thanks to Mike and the Woody ID class at Brooklyn Botanic, I can almost correctly spell the botanic name of this tree without spellchecking via a quick google search. Almost, but not quite. I usually end up putting the r in the wrong place. Botanical names can be a challenge to spell.

















Yellowwood flower cluster and chives in a what's-blooming bouquet from last year, May 17.

Ninety Plus Ninety

Mid-November morning in the rock garden, Brooklyn Botanic

It was just about ninety days from a brilliant fall morning until the light of today.



Beech leaves and a bare skyline in mid-February, Prospect Park

And in another ninety we'll be more than halfway through spring. The winter may seem long and cold, but really it's just a cold blink of an eye. We'll be getting a taste of the near future later this week, with a spell of spring weather.



Under an Umbrella Magnolia in Mid-May, Native Flora Garden, Brooklyn Botanic