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One might think that, after living on the same property for just months short of a quarter of a century, the land would hold no surprises.
I know I did.
And yet, during the spring of 2017, I found a new wildflower (cheevers) and discovered my stately birch also had surprises in store.
How can a tree surprise? Days ago, I'd have had no answer to such a silly question.
Trees just stand there. Right? Depending on the kind, most change color with the seasons and many shed their leaves in the fall to grow new ones come spring. and of course most -- if one and the tree are lucky -- will continue to grow.
My birch was a gift from the makers of the cabinets for my kitchen and bathrooms when the house was erected. It was a stunning surprise, duly planted in the yard reasonably far from the house. I have a perfect view of it at all times.
And I swear I do view it. Morning, noon, and night. It doesn't move -- and hardly at times do I.
I've devoted many happy hours to photographing and identifying the birds and wildflowers I see here. (I have no desire to go further afield.) Of course I've thought of adding trees to my collections. What could be simpler? Well … even those who claim to be in the know aren't all that sure about the cherry to the south or the pine to the west. If experts -- and my reference books -- aren't absolutely positive, what luck would I have?
My leaves definitely didn't match the drawings of any of the birches in "How to Recognize Trees." I was delighted to discover "The Audubon Guide to North American Trees" which even has real photographs -- and includes the bark which has to help with the identification of my birch.
Well, it's a lovely moderately warm sunshiny day as I write so I really don't mind the two trips out to the tree, the repeat to get my camera. In spite of the welcoming weather and the pleasure it brings, I'm cursing genteelly that I will not -- never, never -- try to identify another tree.
Birch is easy, right? Particularly when it's a gift. Only birches are marked with the easy-to-recognize horizontal lines across the trunk, varying only in size between the Paper, Yellow, European White and Gray Birches. Should I really have been surprised then to see that mine isn't like any of those at all? The bark looks quite a bit like the Texas Mulberry on the same page but scratch that for that one doesn't grow over twenty feet and mine is already far above that.
I ultimately settled on the River Birch though, being the "southernmost New World birch," I'm not sure why it's here. But the leaves match: "usually with 7-9 veins on each side" (yes) and "shiny dark green above, whitish and usually hairy beneath." (Yes!) And, what got me started on this in the first place: "It has tiny flowers in early spring with the male yellowish, with 2 stamens, many in long drooping catkins."
It's those catkins -- long, drooping indeed -- that seemed to take over the tree. That's what drew my attention (and camera).
I can offer no explanation for why I never saw them until this year. Is it a maturity issue? Did the tree have to grow up first? Or is there a new girl birch in the neighborhood? This year they were impossible not to see.
Catkins, I'm sure. Identification? Eh? Well maybe.
I know I'll measure its height in August as I do most growing things here. I hope it will continue to keep growing for many years to come.
And I'll continue to silently thank my cabinet company for the beautiful cupboards and for my special tree.
Whatever it is.
Susan Crossett has lived outside Cassadaga for more than 20 years. A lifetime of writing led to these columns as well as two novels. "Her Reason for Being" was published in 2008 with "Love in Three Acts" following in 2014. Both novels are now available at Lakewood's Off the Beaten Path bookstore. Information on all the Musings, her books and the author may be found at Susancrossett.com.