A year among the trees

by Wilson Flagg

THE CHECKERBERRY.

The Checkerberry is peculiarly an American plant, well known by its pleasant aromatic flavor, its shining evergreen leaves, its delicate white flowers, and its scarlet berries. There are no wild fruits so attractive to young persons, from the time they begin to redden in the autumn, and all through the winter, when the ground is open, until they are seen hanging on the vine with the blossoms of spring. Indeed, this fruit is not perfected until it has remained on the bush during the winter. The severest cold has no effect upon it; and the berries increase in size, after the spring opens, until they become as large as strawberries.

This plant is very abundant in all woods in New England, and seems to be confined to no particular soil or situation. Indeed, I doubt whether another woody plant can be found so generally distributed throughout the New England forest. If it has any preferences, they seem to be the lower slopes of wooded hills and mountains. But I have seen it in all locations where it can enjoy the protection of trees, in evergreen as well as deciduous woods; for though the leaves of the pine prevent the growth of any considerable underwood, the Checkerberry is always abundant in the openings of a pine forest.

THE BEECH.

The Beech is a common tree in all our woods, where it is distinguished by the length and size of its smooth clean shaft, which is often perceptibly ribbed or fluted. In dense assemblages these columns, rising to the height of sixty or seventy feet, are very striking, and the more so when the land is covered entirely with Beech timber. The suckering habit of this tree and its vigorous constitution are the important cause of its predominance in any tract that is occupied by it, and the close matting of leaves that covers the ground under a beechen wood prevents any abundance of undergrowth. The same inconvenient habit is the cause of its rareness in dressed grounds. George Barnard says of the English Beech: “In no tree are the decaying hues of autumn more beautiful than in the Golden Beech, its foliage changing from green to the brightest orange, then to glowing red, and eventually to a russet brown, in which state the leaves remain on the tree through the winter.” The leaf of the American Beech, on the contrary, is remarkably dull in its autumnal tints. It turns to a rusty yellow in the autumn, gradually fades to a leather-color, and drops from the tree near midwinter.

The style and spray of the Beech, as observed in its denuded state, are worthy of particular study. The lower branches of the tree are generally very long and rather slender. They take an almost horizontal direction when they start from the tree, but soon make a curvature by turning regularly upwards, and causing a peculiar primness in their general appearance. Every small twig also turns upwards, pointed with elongated leaf-buds, resembling so many little spears. The terminal branches, forming the spray, are very numerous and slender, and remarkably beautiful. The Beech, when in full leaf, is seen to the best advantage where it skirts the edge of a wood, if it has grown up there since the original clearing. In that situation we perceive the elegant sweep of its branches, and the upright character of its leaves, each leaf pointing obliquely upwards in the direction of the spray, instead of hanging loosely in all ways, like the foliage of the large-leaved poplars. Deciduous trees have generally a drooping foliage, and the want of this habit in the Beech gives it a very lively appearance. The heaviness attributed by Gilpin to the English tree is not observed in the American Beech; on the contrary, it is remarkable for a certain airiness, seldom putting forth its branches in masses, but in such a manner that every spray may be traced by the long upright rows of leaves.

I should hesitate in saying that on cultivated ground, and as a standard, the Beech would display those qualities which are most admired. It is chiefly interesting by the woodside, or skirting the banks of a stream. The stiffness of its foliage renders it ungraceful as a solitary standard. It may be remarked, in its favor, that it differs so widely in its ramification from other deciduous trees as to add a pleasing variety to any miscellaneous assemblage of species. I can easily believe that it is not a favorite resort for birds; for its branches are too long and slender for their convenience, and its foliage too thin to give them a feeling of seclusion. If I were to plant a grove of beeches, I would select the crumbling banks of watercourses, where the trees would bind the fragile soil with their roots and cover the banks and the hillside with a beautiful wood and an agreeable shade.

The tendency of the Beech to produce mosses and lichens upon its trunk and branches has been observed by the earliest writers. It is also a matter of common observation among woodmen. No such growth, however, is seen upon beeches that stand alone or in an open grove. These parasites are generated by the dampness of a thick forest; and they attach themselves equally to the bark of other trees in the same damp situations, but cannot adhere to it if it be rough or scaly. The smooth bark of the Beech, and of the red maple while it is young, permits such plants to foster themselves upon it, and adhere to it without disturbance.

THE RUSTIC LANE AND WOODSIDE.

Nature is greatly indebted to Art for many of her attractions, if it has not been exercised for the purpose which is effected by it. We see this not only in wood-paths, which all will agree are the most delightful parts of a wood, but in many other operations of a rude agriculture, more especially in the rustic lane. It is no matter whether the lane be bordered by trees and shrubbery, or only by a plain wooden fence or loose stone-wall, provided for several seasons it has been entirely neglected. It must have been long enough under nature’s spontaneous action to restore that condition of the turf that precedes cultivation, to green the borders with ferns and mosses, and to gem their velvety heaps with anemones and violets. The nice trimming and weeding which are generally apparent in all the paths and avenues of a country-seat or a model farm deprive them of the attractions of the rustic lane. No matter how many flowers are cultivated in the borders of one of these trim avenues, it is, after all, only an exhibition of splendor and luxury. It delights the eye, but it cannot win the heart. It is only a conservatory of elegance; it is not a paradise.