Tree-following: angles, shapes, & light

‘Stairway to Unknown Tree’

It’s January in Wyoming, a time of cold here in the continental interior, and mostly a season of dormancy for trees. But I visited the tree I’m following anyway.

I thought I was taking a photo of my tree against the wall (first photo below), but it’s the one next to it (same kind). Mine is hidden behind the two trees growing in the island in the sidewalk. It has far fewer leaves than its neighbor, which is better protected from the wind.

My tree.

Neighbor tree.

With samaras, opposite branching, and colorful leaves (last fall), these may be maples …

… but I find it hard to believe these are maple leaves. What do you think?

That’s it for tree news, not too exciting. But one benefit of following this tree is that even when it’s not doing much, there's an art building next door with something of interest inside … except this time. It’s winter break. The doors were unlocked, but there was no art. So I had to make my own—abstracts composed of angles, shapes, and light.

'Sunny Parallelograms'

‘Everything Fell Out / Gravity’

‘Vertical Horizontal’

‘ytuaeb enadnum’

It has been a long time since I’ve played with my camera this way. It's wonderful! Making abstract compositions from real views is so engrossing that the rest of the world fades away.

‘Exit to Sanity’

This is my contribution to the monthly gathering of tree-followers, hosted by The Squirrelbasket. News about everyone's trees can be found here. Consider joining us! Never any pressure, and you can let your creativity run wild.

Tree-following: Thinking Ahead

I’m finishing this year’s tree-following by making plans for next year. Which tree should I follow? The Number One Candidate right now is a tree I spotted in October during my monthly visit to 2019's hawthorns. It grows near the west end of the Art Building.

It had such colorful leaves! Of course those leaves are gone now, so on my recent visit I took along the October photo. That way I would know which tree to introduce myself to.

It was cold, windy and getting dark at 4:30. I left my trusty field assistant behind after assuring her she would prefer the warmer cab of the truck.

En route to the west end of the building, I visited briefly with the pair of hawthorns I followed this year. They still had haws, but quite shriveled. I sampled one; it had the texture of fruit leather and just a hint of flavor.

 

With the photo I easily relocated the tree of interest. While I struggled to take a clever photo of print and tree in the wind, several people walked by and smiled. Of course they smiled—being artists, they wouldn't think that what I was doing was the least bit odd.

Assured I had the right tree, I approached it. “Hello, I’m Hollis. What’s your name?” It mimed a response, with branches, leaves and fruit. But I didn’t fully understand.

The branching was opposite (hard to see in wind, sorry):

Leaves had mostly serrated margins and pinnate veins—at least that's what I thought (mystery ahead). The second photo is a zoom from the October shot, click on it for a slightly better view:

There were many clusters of pedicels but only a few with fruit ... which happen to be keys or samaras, doubled like those of maples!

Are you surprised too? These are strange leaves for maples, especially the pinnate venation. Maybe I need to expand my concept of the Aceraceae. Learning awaits.

The other reason for choosing this tree is that it grows next to the Art Building which offers a bright warm whimsical refuge on cold, windy and/or snowy days, or when the mosquitos are bad. Currently there are several new exhibits, including one under construction. But I headed straight to the This and That Galleries because this month both have exhibits featuring plants!

In This I found “Plains Placement”—an exhibition of prints by Ben Nathan. They were made from copper plates etched with leaf designs. Colors were overlaid, and sometimes effects added with a piece of grass with black ink. These works are all in response to a "prompt"—experience in the West.

I was surprised when I walked into That. Flower photos, illustrations and even scientific literature (!) hung on the walls. On a small table lay an explanation by Rebecca Austin and Erin Bentley—artist and scientist. One “needs only look at the field notebooks … to see that when people seek to understand the natural world, they often turn to artistic endeavors … we would like to show that these fields are inherently, if not always obviously, connected.”

For this beautiful illustration of Actaea rubra, they chose Alice Bacon’s 1903 paper Experiment with the Fruit of Red Baneberry “because it was funny.” So of course I had to read more. Turns out Alice performed the experiment on herself! Fortunately she survived, and duly reported her findings.

“Then suddenly the mind became confused and there was a total disability to recollect anything distinctly or arrange ideas with any coherency. On an attempt to talk, wrong names were given to objects, and although at the same time the mind knew mistakes were made in speech, the words seemed to utter themselves independently.”

She experienced pain in many parts of the body. Perhaps scariest of all “the heart fluttered most unpleasantly.” After three hours she was fully recovered but “The experiment was carried no further, as the effects in heart and brain were danger signals not to be ignored.” (I didn't find the funny part.)

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Tasty Haws on Leafless Trees

Poplars at the Visual and Literary Arts building, University of Wyoming.

This year our fall colors include lots of pale browns, especially on poplars and cottonwoods. These are leaves that died and dried on the tree. The cottonwoods in my yard are still half-covered in dead leaves. Of course they're impossible to rake, and unfortunately our green waste pickup service ends this week.

But the trees I’m following—a pair of hawthorns next to the Visual and Literary Arts building—are all but bare. Last month they were covered in dull green leaves (and some rust-colored ones). I don’t know if they turned brown before or after falling, but in any case, the trees went from leafy to leafless in less than a month.

Early October.

Early November.

With no leaves it was easy to see the haws, which were wrinkled and shriveled. I suspect the hard frosts a few weeks ago are to blame. Actually “hard” is a gross understatement. We were hit by a blast of arctic air and suddenly it was winter—in mid-October! One day the high was 4º F (-16º C), and early the next morning we had a low of -15º (-26º). Fortunately, beautiful fall days have returned, with highs in the low 50s F.

Last month, several readers suggested I harvest haws and make jam or syrup. It probably would have worked out—with enough sugar and someone besides me as cook. So it didn't happen. But I did eat a handful of shriveled haws, straight off the trees.

All hawthorns (Crataegus spp.) produce 'edible' berries, i.e., not toxic (as long as you spit out the seeds, which contain cyanide). But the berries of many species are bland at best. So it was a nice surprise to find the haws on these trees were relatively tasty. They were mealy, but slightly sweet and with a nice flavor. Maybe shriveling up with the hard frosts concentrated sugars and tasty compounds … ?

Why are there rose hips in this post? Because we love color this time of year! These are for Lucy, the original Tree Follower.

After waving to the Woman at the Entrance, who was of two minds that day, I entered the building for my monthly art fix. The main gallery was closed but no matter—the This and That Gallery was open, with new exhibits.

This featured Alexandria Pawlow's Song & Dance:

Decorated skulls by Sophia Spicer—Skull Candy—were on display in That:

This is my contribution to the monthly virtual gathering of tree-followers, kindly hosted by The Squirrel Basket. As the year draws to a close—just one more report on these hawthorns—I've started thinking about a tree to follow in 2020. It's a good time to join in the fun!—more information here.

Treefollowing, Literary Art & Wyoming Coal

Treefollowing on a cold windy day—note bundled-up photographer reflected in window.

Back in March, I decided to follow a pair of hawthorns growing next to the building that houses the Department of Visual and Literary Arts at the University of Wyoming. By July, I had concluded these most likely were Russian Hawthorns, Crataegus ambigua, following suggestions of several readers; also, Russian Hawthorn cultivars are popular in Wyoming. But I still haven’t checked with the University landscaping folks for confirmation.

Despite the severe cold last week (low of 0º F, -18º C), my hawthorns were covered in leaves—a mix of dull green and several shades of reddish brown.

With their haws fully ripe, these trees revealed that they are more productive than I had thought. But they still are slackers compared with their fecund neighbors!

Above and below: my hawthorns.

Above and below: neighboring hawthorns loaded with ripe haws.

One reason I chose these hawthorns over several other candidate trees on campus was their proximity to the Arts building—a pleasant and interesting place to duck out of the wind, cold, rain, etc. There are several galleries, display cases in the lobby, and works of art scattered through and outside of the building. Not knowing much about art, I've enjoyed expanding my horizons.

The inclusion of literary art intrigued me. When I first visited, I assumed this piece on display in the lobby was an example:

Literary art?

Or perhaps the works currently in the main gallery—Joanne Kluba’s Artist Books:

L’Atlantide, Artist Book; Joanne Kluba, 2003.

Mindfullness, Artist Book; Joanne Kluba, 2006.

But no. Literary Art refers to creative writing, which was transferred from the English Department just recently. This is where Wyoming coal comes in.

Wyoming’s economy is being hit hard with the decline of coal, a major source of state income. Multiple big mines have closed, their companies now in bankruptcy, including Peabody Energy—made famous in John Prine’s Paradise.

As a result, the University of Wyoming has cut and reorganized programs. Though the English Department still exists, creative writing was put in Visual Arts—no idea why. At least it wasn't eliminated, as was poetry.

Departmental sign not yet updated.

This is my contribution to the monthly virtual gathering of treefollowers, kindly hosted by The Squirrel Basket. Consider joining us! It's always interesting and fun—and no pressure :)