Farmhouse Trees

Life is filled with competing interests, thus our visits to the Farmhouse this year have been sporadic. Our last visit coincided with my last post in late March. Since then I have managed another 12 day work stretch, and this coming weekend will be spent checking on my folks in Oklahoma. But we’ll be up soon after that. By then hopefully spring will have had time to dig its hooks in for good.

The Farmhouse is home to a number of old-growth trees. Several very mature beeches and hemlocks surround the house, and a truly massive, spectacular white pine anchors the northeast corner. I can look out a bedroom window at 80 feet of towering pine tree straight above my head and be thankful that the wind generally blows from the west.

A few miles down the road, Black Cap Farm sells only trees and perennials native to Michigan. To my delight (because they have brilliant fall foliage) I discovered that tupelos, which I associate with southern swamps, are Michigan native. I purchased and planted one on the slope north of the house. It is probably a good thing I only have one acre instead of fifty, or I would happily plant unusual specimens everywhere. As it is, an old oak with arms stretched wide fills most of that available space. I received a giant sequoia seedling for Christmas which I hope eventually to plant somewhere on the slope. It needs at least another year in a pot before I transplant it, giving me time to absorb the space and figure out exactly where it should go. Is there a landscaping version of feng shui?

Admittedly, giant sequoias aren’t native to Michigan. But just down the road at Lake Bluff Farm, three giant sequoia specimens planted 75 years ago are still doing fine, and one of them is now 100 feet tall.

Spring, slowly but surely, is coming to Michigan, and with it, a desire to dig in the dirt. Daffodils are just now opening. Willow branches are blushing with catkins, branch tips are greening, and buds are swelling. The north slope soon will be covered, all too briefly, with forget-me-nots.

The Earth, wild at heart, will shrug us off some day, but until then I hope it tolerates my amateur landscaping efforts. I have a winter’s worth of fallen branches to clear, perennials to tend, and a bluff that needs thinning (professional tree trimmers for that, don’t worry). Who knows, if the opportunity presents, I may even make some headway on reclaiming a bit of beach from the thickets next to the lakeshore.