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Where Has All the Mistletoe Gone?

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Locust and alder trees in my region are commonly infested with mistletoe. Some were severely infested. A few of the locust trees downtown were actually unsightly because they are so stressed and sparse from mistletoe infestation, and also because they were so full of big shaggy mistletoe bushes that obviously do not belong there. Now, viable mistletoe can not be found. Even the carcases of the big dead mistletoe bushes are hard to find. They seem to have died and deteriorated before anyone noticed. The formerly infested trees are noticeably healthier, and producing more healthy foliage than they normally do, partly hiding any remnants of dead mistletoe.

No one here seems to know what happened. Is this part of their natural life cycle? Is there something that sets them off to die all in the same season like some specie of bamboo do? Is there a disease or insect that we should know about? Is this isolated to our region, or is it happening elsewhere as well?

I know I should be pleased that the mistletoe is gone, even if it is only temporary. It is such a destructive parasitic weed! The concern is that we just do not know what happened.

Years ago, Phytophthora ramorum started killing tan oaks. At first, not many of us minded. After all, tan oaks are considered to be trashy trees that clutter otherwise pure redwood stands, or compete with more desirable oaks. Dead tan oaks were better than live ones, and only needed to be cut and split to be sold as seasoned firewood.

The following year, the same disease started to kill coast live oaks. Then we had a problem. Coast live oak is one of the two most majestic oaks in our region (and the most majestic in the Santa Cruz Mountains where the valley oak is uncommon). It took a long time to identify the disease because the ambrosia beetle, which is a secondary pathogen, was initially blamed for the widespread death, which became known as Sudden Oak Death Syndrome, or SODS. It took a few years for the worst of the SODS epidemic to subside, and it continues to kill oaks sporadically.

That is why it is hard to ignore what is happening with the mistletoe, even though we really should be pleased to see it go.

Posted on by tonytomeo · 10 Comments

Felony Garden

blog11Brent and I met in college, when we were assigned to the same dorm room in Fremont Hall at Cal Poly in San Luis Obispo. Our similarities were remarkable. He came two hundred miles north from west of Los Angeles. I came two hundred miles south from west of San Jose. We were both the middle of three children, although I had just acquired an extra younger sister the year before. While the other boys we grew up with were playing with Hot Wheels, Brent and I were busy planting miniature trees around the miniature roadways. His childhood dog was Speckles. Mine was Freckles. We were weirdly similar prior to September of 1986, but have been perfecting our differences since then.

Brent is now a famous landscape designer in West Hollywood. He has landscaped some of the most prominent homes in the region, including the Osbourne Residence of formerly popular realty show, ‘the Osbournes’. Many of the streets of Los Angeles are now outfitted with street trees that Brent installed. He regularly installs mature plants and large boxed trees, without giving much thought about where they came from.

I just grow things. Back in the early 1990s, I grew citrus trees. By 1995, I was involved with the production of mostly rhododendrons, as well as azaleas, camellias, pieris, and a few other minor crops of similar cultural requirements. I provide the plant material for landscapers like Brent, but do not give much thought about what they do with it.

While we were in school, Brent and I would often see plants around town that we wanted to grow in our own gardens. Sometimes they were old fashioned plants that we could not find in nurseries. Sometimes they were plants from other regions that we did not have access too. Usually though, they were just plants that we wanted but could not afford as starving students.

Being the grower that I am, it was up to me to procure pieces or seeds of these desired plants to propagate. Sometimes, we got entire plants. I did all the work; but usually by the time the copies were produced, Brent would take them back to Los Angeles, where many died because he did not care for them properly. However, in the Miracle Mile neighborhood, there is still a coastal redwood that Brent and I procured on one of our adventures. It does not like the climate much there, but it is surviving.

Our techniques were not as bad as stealing the un-pink bearded iris. (see The Colors Of Karma, https://tonytomeo.wordpress.com/2017/09/12/the-colors-of-karma/.) We merely took pieces that no one would miss. We got several types of succulents and geraniums. (I had actually acquired my favorite geranium years before I ever met Brent, so I knew how easy they were.) We sometimes took plants from compost piles and trash bins, and plants that were to be discarded from a nursery where Brent worked. You can imagine my delight when San Jose started curbside greenwaste recycling! I got piles of bearded iris; and I did not care what color they were. I got yuccas, New Zealand flax, African iris, banana trees, cannas, calas, bergenias and really too many cool plants to list.

Well, as tradition dictates, Brent had to come up with something derogatory to say about my gardening style. After all, even though he benefited more from out techniques of acquiring plants, more of mine survived. His garden was lavishly landscaped with plants that he purchased from nurseries, while most of what he got from me got shaded out. My garden was meagerly landscaped almost exclusively with plants I had propagated and grown. Well, making the observation that very few plants in my garden were acquired ‘legally’, he named the main part off my garden the Felony Garden. Yes, and to the south of that was the White Supremacy Garden. (See White Supremacy, https://tonytomeo.wordpress.com/2017/09/21/white-supremacy/.) Out back, we kept the Fruits and Nuts. Oh, the joy of gardening!

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The Physics Of Fruit

datsun_b210_1_76Sir Isaac Newton had something to say about an apple that was a victim of gravity. My high school physics professor was even better. He taught us all about velocity, force, inertia, vectors and much of what he had to teach us about physics with the help of a very ripe persimmon . . . and an insipid green 1976 Datsun B210.

I was reminded about these lessons a few years ago while Brent and I were in his old neighborhood in Los Angles. He pointed out an old burnt-orange Caprice that was in remarkably good condition. It had less than the typical wear and tear for a car that was nearly as old as we were. Brent pointed out a nearly imperceptible but specific dent in the driver side tail flank, and explained that it was made by a hard under-ripe peach. I did not need to ask how a green peach had attained sufficient force to cause such damage. I grew up in the Santa Clara Valley, where we all know the joy of attacking cars with fruit.

Most of our ammunition was apricots in various stages of ripeness. While in season, the orchard provided an unlimited supply. While they were out of season, we took what we could get from other fruit trees. Winter was meager; but just before 1977 became 1978, we discovered the gloriously humongous and squishy fruit of the ‘Hachiya’ persimmon tree in a neighbor’s front yard. Each fruit had the destructive force of a large ‘Marsh’ grapefruit, but with a squish factor of tapioca pudding! We had never seen anything like it!

Our first victims probably did not know what hit them. They probably heard the mild thuds on their cars, and drove home believing that they had been hit with the typical and mess-less lemons or oranges that are available in winter. Only after parking their shiny cars and getting out did they witness the horror or ‘Hachiya’ persimmon! Perhaps that is how ‘Hachiya’ got its name. It sounds Japanese for something someone would say in response to such a hideous mess. “Hachiya! What happened to my Mitsubishi?!” I do not know if Mitsubishi was around back then. Most of our targets were big American cars.

Then one day, we got a more challenging and more appropriately Japanese victim; a bland green Datsun B210. It was a smaller and speedier target than what we were accustomed to. Our small herd of neighborhood boys ran out to greet it; but then something unexpected happened. The car stopped. The red-headed leprechaun driving it saw us coming and just stopped there before the first persimmon took flight.

We were baffled. The other boys dropped their fruit and ran. I was too annoyed. I did not want to waste the big fruit that the persimmon tree had put so much work into. So, . . . I threw it. It made first contact on the right side of the windshield, and slid its sloppy ripe goo over most of the windshield to the driver’s side. Yes, it was glorious!

I stood there briefly in awe before I realized that the driver of the car was just glaring back at me . . . with the LOOK! Yes, it was the look; the look that said, “If I did not have these short leprechaun legs, I would run after you and beat you into the mud!”. Then I ran off to join the other boys, believing that was the end of it. I occasionally saw the Datusn around the neighborhood afterward, but did not think much of it, unless the leprechaun driving it happened to glare menacingly back at me.

We started high school a few years later. Part way through the first day, I got to my physics class just before the teacher arrived. I was already seated when he walked in, and glared right at me. Yes, it was HIM; the leprechaun! For the first time ever, I saw him smile. He did not have long fangs dripping with blood, but he was terrifying nonetheless. This was going to be a long nine months!

It wasn’t that bad. In fact, the leprechaun was one of many excellent professors at my high school. We all liked him. He did have an odd way with word problems though; you know, those situations involving ‘object A’ and ‘object B’. We had word problems like, “If object ‘persimmon’ weighs .75 pounds and is traveling east at 25 mph, and object ‘Datsun’ weighs 2,000 pounds and is traveling southwest at 25 mph, how much force will object ‘persimmon’ exert against object ‘Datsun’ when they collide?”.

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White Supremacy

winchesterMany people have a favorite color. I learned how seriously some people can take their preference for a particular color when I was in high school, and taking care of the yardwork for a few homes in the neighborhood. There were three tract homes next to each other. One was grayish blue, with a silvery blue Sedan deVille in the garage, and a garden of blue flowers. The middle house next door was soft amber yellow, with a buttery yellow Oldsmobile 98 in the garage, and a garden of exclusively yellow flowers. The house next door to that was iron oxide red, with an exquisite rich red Electra in the garage, and a garden of, you guessed it, red flowers.

The blue garden was the most challenging because true blue is not easy to find, and the big hydrangea kept trying to bloom pink in the slightly alkaline soil. Yellow was the easiest. There is no such thing as too many marigolds; and I really like nasturtiums! Red was my favorite because it included a few white flowers to contrast with the rich dark shades of red. Between the dark green juniper hedge and the deep red petunias, I grew a row of white petunias. A few white pansies got mixed with two shades of red pansies. I grew my first white geranium there, with several shades of pink and red. I really liked the white flowers.

Then I went to school with Brent. He was from a neighborhood with a purple Bonneville and an orange Caprice with a small dent in the driver side tail flank (which I can explain in another essay). Brent loves color! To him, white is only good for brightening dark areas or highlighting other colors. I can not argue with him. He is a landscape designer. I am primarily a grower. He knows a lot more about color than I do.

Well, by the 1990s, while I was growing citrus trees (which, incidentally bloom primarily white), ‘white gardens’ became a fad. How annoying! I always liked white; but loathed fads! I had this thing down long before it became a quaint coffee table book! It was mine! Brent thought that it was funny, especially since my garden had very little white in it. I would not give up my brightly colored nasturtiums and geraniums that I had taken with me to every home I lived in since childhood. I grew sunflowers, and yellow and orange gladiolus in front because they looked so good on my old apartment building. Too much white just would not have been right.

Eventually, I moved my blue lily-of-the-Nile and roses from a side yard that was not visible from out front, and planted only white flowers around a big white oleander tree. I had callas, daisies, iris, dahlias and white lily-of-the-Nile. There was not a lot of bloom at any one time, but there was enough for me to brag to Brent about. I had such attitude about it that Brent said it was more than a mere ‘white garden’. He said it was my ‘White Supremacy Garden’! Oh my! Take a look at the picture above. That is Brent and me back in the early 1990s. I am on the right. When we were in school, Brent would sometimes get marked absent at our night classes.

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Baker Creek Seeds

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The problem with growing the same reliable plants that I have been growing for so long is that I rarely get to try something new. Seriously, my rhubarb was in the garden long before I was born, and will be around long after I am gone. I will probably never grow a different variety of rhubarb. The same goes for my lily-of-the-Nile, geraniums, many varieties of bearded iris, all nine apple varieties and all fourteen fig varieties! Sustainability can be such a bother. Only on rare occasion, I grow something from seed that I do not already have available. I do it in moderation; and I do not feel too guilty about it.

California is the best place in America for gardening, but ironically, we do not have as much variety of vegetable seed to choose from as other regions do. We can get all sorts of weird kale and heirloom tomatoes, including some that were recently developed to exploit the heirloom tomato craze; but if it is not a hip new fad, we might not have access to it. (Yes, ‘new’ ‘heirloom’ varieties) I still get my favorite simple and common vegetable seed from the local hardware store like I did when I was a little kid. There is not much in between. Most vegetable seed here is either very simple and common, or hip and trendy.

Baker Creek Seeds is one of my favorite seed suppliers, both for the formerly common varieties that I grew up with, as well as varieties that might be common in other regions, but not available here. I know it sounds silly, but we just do not have much variety of collards, okra, beets and turnip greens to choose from. The catalog of Baker Creek Seeds, which can be found at rareseeds.com, has it all. If you can not find it in their catalog, you probably do not need it. Although I cringe to say so, Baker Creek Seeds has more heirloom varieties than any other supplier I can think of.

I cringe at the term ‘heirloom’ because I do not like fads or crazes. Baker Creek Seeds does it differently though. Their heirlooms are legitimate and documentable, with nothing to prove, even if some of them look like the ordinary modern varieties. The tomatoes do not need to be blotched, striped, wrinkled, black, purple, ugly, or whatever it takes for them to be marketed as ‘heirloom’, although a few of them are. Some were developed by the Amish. Some were developed by Early American settlers. Some Baker Creek Seeds are heirloom in other cultures, but new introductions here. You just need to take a look at what they have.

All of Baker Creek Seeds are ‘pure’. This means that they are NOT genetically modified. This is their ‘Safe Seed Pledge’:

“Agriculture and seeds provide the basis upon which our lives depend.  We must protect this foundation as a safe and genetically stable source for future generations.  For the benefit of all farmers, gardeners and consumers who want an alternative, we pledge that we do not knowingly buy or sell genetically engineered seeds or plants.  The mechanical transfer of genetic material outside of natural methods and between genera, families or kingdoms, poses great biological risks as well as economicc, political, and cultural threats…”

This makes their work significantly more difficult. Any seed that fails to meet their strict standards can not be marketed. Sadly, some heirloom corn varieties are no longer available because they became contaminated by pollen from genetically modified corn. While so many unscrupulously exploit the ‘sustainability’ fad with products that are contrary to sustainability, Baker Creek Seeds is the real deal. They can be found at rareseeds.com.

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Change Of Scenery

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Hollywood is the Capital City of the entertainment industry because there is such a variety of scenery within relatively minimal proximity to Southern California. Before Hollywood, silent movies were made mostly in Niles, located about halfway between San Jose and Oakland, for the same reason. Snowy mountains, foggy forests, arid deserts, idyllic beaches, open prairies, placid lakes, and wild rivers can all be found within only a few hundred miles. California really has it all. The Santa Clara Valley alone has more climate zones than the entire state of Kansas.

I have not moved around California much. I spent a few summers in San Bruno and Montara, went to school in San Luis Obispo, and sometimes work in the Los Angeles area, but otherwise lived in the two adjacent counties of Santa Clara and Santa Cruz, just a short distance from the homes of my ancestors. Los Gatos is actually in both counties. Technically, most of my gardening has been within Sunset Zones 15 and 16. However, my garden in the Santa Cruz Mountains gets more than two feet of rain, which is about twice what the western side of the Santa Clara Valley gets, even though it is in the same zone!

That is not the only difference. Instead of homogeneously rich alluvial Santa Clara Valley soil, I work with a variety of strange soils; sometimes filled with pulverized sandstone, sometimes sand under a thin layer of forest duff. I do not know what I will find until I start to dig. The Santa Cruz Mountains are such that I might have less flat area dispersed over nearly nine mountainside acres than friends in the Valley have on a single flat suburban lot. Much of it is shaded by tall coastal redwoods. The deer in the Mountains eat more than the gardeners in the Valley can steal.

This all makes it very challenging to grow many of the plants that I enjoy so much and acquired from the Santa Clara Valley. Some adapt quite nicely; but many of the most important ones really want to be back in the Valley. The rhubarb from my great grandfather’s garden looks great, but seriously lacks flavor. I just want to keep it going long enough to find a sunnier and warmer spot with richer soil to relocate it to. The two quince trees that were grown from cutting from an old tree in western San Jose seem to be fine, but much of the fruit gets taken away by rodents before it develops.

Then there are the fig trees. There are fourteen of them! About half are copies of the first fig trees I ever met when I was a kid. Some are black figs. Some are white. I think that only one is a honey fig. They are all very important to me. I am very fortunate to be able to grow them. However, like the rhubarb, they need a sunnier and warmer spot. If they make any fruit at all, it is bland and pithy. My objective with them now is to grow them in the cool and partly shaded spot where they are presently located so that they can provide cuttings to plant when a better situations becomes available. In that regard, they are actually doing just fine!

I really wish I could do my gardening in the Santa Clara Valley; but if I had to do it the other way around, it would be just as difficult. I mean that if I had a big garden in the Santa Clara Valley, and had to give up gardening in the Santa Cruz Mountains, many of my favorite plants would not like the transition. The Mountain grown apples that I have always taken for granted would never be as happy in the Valley. Neither would Douglas firs or bigleaf maples. Redwoods are common in the Valley, but are not the same as they are in their natural range. There’s no place like home.

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My Philosophy On Garden Chemicals

70927lthumbspareI have very few reservations about using chemicals in my garden. I bet you did not expect to read that. It is the quick and easy explanation about my philosophy on garden chemicals. Almost all chemicals that are available to the general public are reasonably safe if handled and applied properly. I am actually more concerned about the larger volumes of chemicals used in the landscape industry, and applied by technicians who can not read the labels or write their use reports. Yes, it happens. Anyway, some of the sugars, salts, preservative and other components of some of the food I eat is more dangerous than chemicals I use in the garden.

That is because I use almost no synthetic chemicals. I have almost no use for them. I only occasionally use semi-synthetic fertilizers like fish emulsion. Just about every disease or insect problem I have encountered in my own garden was most efficiently controlled by cultural methods or simple home remedies that have been effective for centuries, or even thousands of years, long before the first and worst of the really nasty garden chemicals were invented less than two centuries ago.

That certainly does not mean that all home remedies are completely safe, or even any safer that some of what are considered to be ‘chemicals’. I mean, they are supposed to ‘kill’ things. Tobacco is unfortunately toxic, and kills many people quite regularly. That is precisely why a cigar butt or a few cigarette filters can be simmered into a tea to spray onto small potted plants, like fuchsias, to kill aphid. Adding a few drops of dish soap makes it even more effective (although in a different way). Is it toxic? Yes. Am I concerned about it? Not really. Although, it would be nice if no one used tobacco anymore.

Dish soap that so many of us use as a ‘natural’ remedy for aphid is almost as effective for immediate kill even without tobacco tea, but lacks residual toxicity. Because it is necessary to use a slight bit more soap if it is used alone, it is more likely to damage tender foliage. Also, most dish soap is actually less ‘natural’ than tobacco is! Homemade soap made from bacon fat may seem to be more natural, but the fat contains of all sorts of unnatural nitrates. It certainly does not bother me any; but those seeking totally natural remedies should know. (They probably should not eat bacon anyway.)

What do I do for peach leaf curl? Nothing. Well, nearly nothing while the disease is actively ruining foliage. However, while the trees are bare through winter, I prune them very aggressively. Pruning is done so that the trees do not overburden themselves with fruit, but it also stimulates vigorous vegetative growth the following spring and summer. After bloom, while peach leaf curl is busy ruining the first phase of foliage, vigorous vegetative (non-fruiting) stems are busy speeding beyond infection with reasonably healthy foliage. Inadequately pruned trees lack vigor, and are therefore more susceptible to the disease.

The worst of the damaged foliage lower in the canopy falls away as it gets replaced by healthier foliage. It should be raked and disposed of (not composted) because spores of the disease overwinter in the fallen foliage. I actually prefer to pluck much of the damaged foliage from the trees because, technically, it dispersed spores more efficiently while still viable and actively infected. Does this eliminate the disease? No; but neither does spraying chemicals.

Does putting ‘Tanglefoot’ or axle grease around the trunk of a lemon tree infested with scale eliminate the scale? Of course not. It merely keeps out the ants that cultivated the scale. (Ants have a symbiotic relationship with the scale because the ants consume the honeydew excreted by the aphid. Ick!) Without the ants to herd them around and protect them from natural predators, the scale are not so prolific. You might not even know they are there. ‘Controlling’ them just might be better than ‘eliminating’ them with a chemical insecticide. Besides, it leaves something for their natural predators to consume so that they are there when we need them.

After centuries of breeding plants to do what we want them to do and behave very unnaturally, we really should consider how to get nature to do some of the work it really wants to do ‘naturally’.

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No Respect

IMG_0417Horticultural industries are full of them; those who changed their respective careers half way through to do something ‘green’. We hear it all the time. “I used to be a ______ (Fill in the blank.), but I got so tired of ______ (Fill in the blank again.) and decided to get into landscaping.” Really?!? That is what you think of the landscape industry? Anyone who flunks out in your industry can ‘easily’ make it in landscaping?

While driving the delivery truck (because we could not hire a frustrated brain surgeon to do it for us), I had to deliver truckloads of rhododendrons to a ‘landscaper’ who did several jobs in Alameda and Contra Costa Counties. This ‘landscaper’ would walk through the nursery and tag whatever looked good at the time, and then assemble the landscape when the selected material arrived on site. Of course, he selected material that was in full bloom at the time, so the flowers were deteriorating by the time they arrived. His ‘landscapes’ were atrocious! The material was just tossed together so randomly, with plants that needed shade out in full sun, and full sun plants in the shade of big trees that were not pruned before the landscape was installed.

I can distinctly remember a job in the Oakland Hills that had two big Canary Island date palms that had not been groomed for many years. Decaying fronds were sagging low enough to mingle with the carcasses of agave blooms that were still sort of standing (or not) around the perimeter of the yard. Below these two palms (and I mean ‘below’, and within only a few feet of the trunks), the ‘landscaper’ had installed a few Colorado blue spruces, even more saucer magnolias, and about as many Japanese maples. These poor trees were literally pressed up against each other, and the rhododendrons that were getting delivered still needed to be stuffed in with them! Well, I could go on about how bad the ‘landscape’ was, but you probably get the point. Really, agaves and rhododendrons.

While unloading, the ‘landscaper’ explained to me, using the classic line mentioned above, “I used to be a chiropractor, but I got tired of all the stress and decided to get into landscaping.” He then continued to explain to me what made his career so stressful. After unloading the truck, I explained how frustrating it is to not be able to hire anyone to drive the truck or do the hard work at the farm. I hate working the irrigation through the middle of the night when summer gets hot. I am tired of the mud and rain in winter. Perhaps I should become a chiropractor!

Well, he did not like that much. He said that the two industries are completely different. Okay, I get that. He had to go to school for many years to earn his degree. Okay, I get that too. He had to work long hard hours for his career. Okay, I am still following here. It is a very stressful job that is not for everyone. Okay, have you worked out in the summer heat and dust, or winter cold and mud, until the sun went down, and sometimes into the night? Can you drive a tired old tractor or operate a chain saw? Do you even know how a shovel works?

The more he tried to explain to me that a chiropractor can become a horticultural professional, but a horticultural professional can not become a chiropractor, the more I realized how qualified I was for his former job. Yet, the horticultural industries are crowded with those who should be in other industries, or who simply do not take their work as seriously as it should be.

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The Colors Of Karma

0407160708aThe statute of limitations allows me to discuss this now. It happened thirty years ago, in the spring of 1987. The famous landscape designer, Brent Green, was my roommate in the dorms at Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo. As the bearded iris started to bloom, Brent immediately noticed a bed of uniformly pink bearded iris off the edge of a lawn in the inner campus. He watched it bloom from beginning to end, and occasionally updated me on the progress. During the process, he convinced me that these iris were very rare. Neither of us had ever seen pink bearded iris before. We had no idea that they could easily be purchased from mail order catalogs or nurseries.

Late one warm spring night, Brent telephoned me from a landscape design lab where he had been working late. Back then, we answered a telephone when it rang. Before I could wake up enough to think about what I was doing, or just say “No.”, Brent convinced me to bring something that he needed from our room to the lab. Without thinking, I got dressed, grabbed his designated duffel bag and got on my way. I was sort of concerned that the duffel bag seemed to be empty. I figured that whatever was in it was very lightweight.

By the time I got to lab, Brent was in the lobby, and his associates were leaving. Brent did not seem to be interested in whatever was in the bag. He just thanked me for bringing it as we waked out as if to go back to the dorms. I was puzzled. As we walked, Brent explained that he only needed the bag, and confirmed that it really was as empty as I suspected. I was even more puzzled. I asked why he woke me up in the middle of the night to deliver an empty bag across campus. Well, in the few minutes it took for us to get this far into the conversation, we had arrived at the bed of pink iris. You can imagine what happened next.

Yes. Brent dropped the bag on the ground and began to stuff it full of all the bloomed-out iris rhizomes he could grab! Suddenly, I was very awake, and protested. He explained that now that the iris had finished blooming, they would be dug up and disposed of. What else could I do? I knew he was correct. I did not want to waste the iris. I also realized that panic would only draw attention, and that delaying the process would only increase the likelihood of getting busted. I pulled up as many rhizomes as I could hastily grab as well, and stuffed the bag until it was full. Brent was feeling rather satisfied as we walked back to the dorms. I was mortified.

The rhizomes got split and groomed, and eventually went into our mothers’ gardens. We each got about half. The following late winter and early spring, Brent would check in on his when he would go south for the weekend. I would check on mine when I would go north. They grew well, and fattened up to bloom. The stalks came up. The buds swelled. Then, finally, and with much anticipation, they bloomed! They were magnificent! They were glorious! They were spectacular! They were purple and yellow! WHAT?!?! Where was the pink? What happened? This is NOT FAIR! Wait a minute, . . . Could it be karma?

Thirty years later, we still grow these two bearded iris. They are known simply as ‘Karma Purple’ and ‘Karma Yellow’. We do not know their real names. A few years ago, they were joined by a nice tall ‘Karma White’, which was supposed to be a rusty red that I ‘borrowed’ from a neighbor. Neither Brent nor I have ever grown a pink iris.

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Goodbye To An Old Friend

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After decades of deteriorating structural integrity, Quercus lobata of Felton finally succumbed to a need to prioritize public safety, and passed away at home in Felton Fair on June 20, 2017. His age is unknown, but may have been about three centuries. He was born in Felton before Felton was, and lived his entire life here. In the idyllic alluvial meadow between Zayante Creek and the San Lorenzo River, he was a simple forest tree for most of his career, and only became a distinguished shade tree when Graham Hill Road was built. Instead of retiring later in life, he became the most prominent tree in the parking lot when Felton Fair was constructed. In his spare time, he enjoyed feeding neighborhood squirrels. A tree of few words, or really none at all, Quercus lobata never complained about anything, even when cars crashed into his bulky trunk, and stripped away large portions of bark where decayed cavities later developed. His remains will be scattered as mulch,and used to warm homes throughout the region. Ashes will be scattered as stoves and fireplaces are cleaned. Rings will be counted privately. Quercus lobata is survived by an unknown number of children, countless squirrels, and countless admirers of various specie throughout Felton.

The obituary above was serious business when it was written. What it does not mention is that the deceased did not fall down or die completely of natural causes. It was cut down after dropping a very large limb onto a roadway, demonstrating how dangerous it could be. It would have gotten more dangerous if it aged and deteriorated more. No one wanted it to be cut down. It was just too necessary.

This is the part of the job of arborists that non-arborists do not seem to understand. We arborists love our work, and we love trees. However, that does not mean that we object to the removal of each and every tree. The people who live with trees are more important. Any tree that blatantly endangers people or property must be removed or made safe.

Unfortunately, valley oaks deteriorate and fall apart for many decades before they finally die. This particular tree might have survived for quite a while if it had not been cut down. It also would have continued to drop limbs.

Distinguished old trees are always the most difficult to condemn. No one is old enough to remember when they were not here. They witnessed more changes to their little part of the world than anyone. Without going anywhere, some of them here in California visited three different countries; Spain, Mexico and the United States of America.

In the end though, death is perfectly natural. The tree had spent centuries doing what it was put here to do. It was time for it to go. Behind the stump in the picture, one of its babies is already becoming a nice young tree. Another one is just to the east, just beyond the left edge of the picture. They might shade the road and driveway for a few more centuries. What history will they see during that time?