HOW TO PLANT A TREE (THE NEW WAY)

Prepare yourselves. I'm about to tell you how to plant a tree in a way that may go against everything you've ever been told about planting a tree. But bear with me because I'm also going to tell you why it's a good idea to plant a tree like this.

Plant a tree for life, not for the short term.

First of all, you need to start thinking about a tree as a many-year (possibly a lifetime) investment. You need to think about the long-term health of it, not just the next five years. There are things you can do when you plant a tree that will determine if it lives to see your kids' weddings, or perhaps the next owner's kids' weddings.

The typical advice about planting containerized or balled and burlapped trees is to disturb the roots as little as possible and plunk it in a very wide but not too deep hole. For balled and burlapped trees this advice often includes leaving all the burlap intact to rot away naturally (which I've actually never seen happen), which you pretty much have to do in order to leave on the wire cage that holds the whole thing together.

Here are the problems with that method:

1. Once roots start circling, as they are wont to do when grown in containers or spend a lot of time in the balled and burlapped state, they will continue to circle because they have "root memory." Roots that circle will never properly anchor a tree and are lightly to girdle the whole thing, essentially choking itself off.
2. Trees, like almost all plants, do not like leaving familiar territory. Roots are unlikely to stretch out beyond the conditions in which they are accustomed. This is why it is no longer advised to put a "$5 plant in a $25 hole." Why would roots want to seek water and nutrition and stretch out if they are comfy in their little universe?
3. It's very easy to plant containerized or balled trees too deeply because they've been growing that way at the nursery.

Balled and burlapped trees are typically grown in clay because it's the only kind of soil that will stay together in a ball, but few people grow trees in full clay. My garden is certainly an example of that. My soil is mostly sand or sandy loam, although there is some clay in a few spots in the yard where clearly fill had been brought in at some point.

So when I got a tree recently—an espalier Asian pear that I've been desiring for a long time—I planted it in a way that was pretty much exactly the opposite of what the nursery advised. I turned it into a bare root plant.

Don't freak out. This whole process moves quickly so at no point are the roots allowed to dry out. Here's the process:

1. Lift the whole thing into a very sturdy wheelbarrow. A kiddie pool would work too. Then fill it with a few inches of water and let it soak for several hours. The bottom of a balled and burlapped tree is likely to be hard as a rock so it needs some time to soften up.

Start with the tree in a wheelbarrow or kiddie pool and allow the bottom to soak in a few inches of water for several hours to help loosen the root ball.

2. Then use a hose and some gentle work with your hands to carefully work all of the soil off the root ball without tearing away fine roots. I'm not going to lie, this is a long, messy process.

Carefully wash all the soil off the roots. In the beginning of the process, above, you'll be breaking off big chunks. At the end, you have to tease it out through the roots, as shown in the quick video below. 

3. When all the dirt has been washed off from the roots, examine the root ball. Look for circling roots and cut them. Clean up jagged roots (mine had a ton of these that seemed to have been ripped off and scabbed over).

Here's what the roots looked like when I cleaned off the soil. There were two huge roots that had been ripped apart at some point and a few fiberous roots. I would have liked to see a lot more.

4. Find the root flare. This is where the trunk flares out and the roots begin. That is the level where you want the top of the soil when you plant.

5. Dig your hole as you usually would—at least twice as wide as the root ball and no deeper. In fact it's best to plant just a touch high to accommodate for the soil settling. Don't add any amendments to the hole. (I did sprinkle some mycrohizal fungi on the roots. There is some discussion as to whether this does anything or it's a feel-good thing, but I opted for feel-good put some on.)

6. Place your tree, making sure to face it the best direction and check that the soil level is correct by laying something—a long stake or a shovel— across the hole, then gradually add soil to the hole. About halfway through, firm in the soil—I like to face my foot toward the truck and my heel out and gently press down in a circle. Don't smash it! You're just trying to firm in the tree, not squish the life out of it.

7. Add in more soil and repeat the firming process.

Firm in the soil by gently pushing with your heel around the tree.

8. Water it well, preferably using the water from the root-washing process which can have beneficial bacteria in it.

Water in well, preferably using water from the root washing process.

9. Once you've watered and all the water has been absorbed, check the soil level again and add more if necessary.

10. Mulch deeply around the root zone, but don't pile up mulch on the trunk. If need be, water again at this stage.

11. Stake the trunk low and remember to remove the stake when the tree seems well anchored, no more than year from planting.

A few notes about my specific situation:

• Because I was planting an espalier tree that will be supported by guide wires on the fireplace facade, I planted the tree quite close to the house, about 14 inches. This is much closer than you should ever plant a tree in any other case.
• I also didn't stake the tree because of it's location and the guide wires. There won't be wind whipping this tree around so I skipped the stake, but it's an important step in almost any other case.
• I firmed down the soil under the root ball only because I'd recently put that soil in from another spot in the garden. Here's why I did that. 

When the tree is planted, it's not uncommon that it will sulk a bit at first. Don't freak out. The tree is stressed. It has experienced a drastic change in growing conditions and its roots have been disturbed. This is unlike what you've probably experienced with other methods of planting (and a good reason to plant in spring or fall but not the heat of summer, which is stressful enough on its own), but keep in  mind that you're aiming for the long term health of the tree here. 

You will probably have to be very careful about watering for the first two weeks. I don't want the roots to dry out at all during this time, so I stay on top of the watering, but be sure not to over water, which is probably worse. Once you're past this first critical period, you should go to a "proper" watering schedule, which is to say regular but infrequent (generally weekly) deep watering. This encourages deep root growth rather than surface root growth.

The planted tree is looking pretty good in its new home and it has acquired its own bodyguard.

I bet you're skeptical right now and maybe even thinking, "Planting the old way worked fine, why change it?" But did it really work better? Have you seen trees die or just fall over in a wind storm? Of course these things happen for other reasons as well, but often it's because of improper planting. And just think about it: Doesn't it make sense to get a tree growing in the soil that it will call home for the rest of its life from the get-go?

Here's a study on this method if you need a little science to quell your skepticism. And here's more information on the why of this.

FINDING A FOCAL POINT

Big things happen in my garden when I'm not able to garden. It is absolutely a case of my gardening eyes being much larger than my gardening stomach, but what else is a gardener to do during the long days of winter than think about the garden?

The west side of the house is the first part you see when you drive in.

This spot along the west side of the house has been problematic over the years. First I grew a very questionably hardy Japanese maple there (it died; I was sad). Then I planted a rather ordinary witch hazel there as the focal point. Unfortunately I was at the mercy of local nurseries, which seem to stock the most plain-Jane cultivars they can find, and ended up with a not-so-special plant. The best that area has looked was in the early days of the planting there. The witch hazel was small but lush, in front of it were black Heucheras and on the edge was a swatch of Hakonechloa 'All Gold'. 

The second year after planting this area was looking pretty good (minus the creeping Charlie problem in the lawn).

But the Hakonechloa happily took off and the Heuchera, which is not long lived in my garden to begin with, suffered. It's still there, it's just much shorter than the Hakonechloa, so you can't even see it. I divided all that Hakonechloa three years ago to make the new garden by the garage and I'll be able to divide it again for the new circle garden this year. Despite being considered a shade plant, it thrives in that spot with just a big of fading late in the summer. It's an all-star in my garden, seemingly accommodating a variety of light conditions.

But several years later it's less of a success.

Clearly this spot is in need of a bit of a redo. The good news is that because of the large spruce we cut down on the south side of the driveway there will be more light on this side of the house. Also, it's really more of a west southwest exposure, so there is light there by late morning. You can get a feel for the layout of the garden—this space is labeled as the "West side garden"—in the slightly outdated "artist's rendering" of the garden that I did a few years ago, below.

The most important part of that planting, and frankly, perhaps one of the most important parts of the entire garden as it is visible as you drive in, is the focal point plant in front of the chimney. In my opinion, it needs to be highly structured and a little simple so as to not compete with the busy pattern of the stone. I've been wary of dark foliage because I want it to stand out against the dark of the chimney.

A month or ago I took Margaret Roach's 365-day garden webinar. It was very good and full of valuable information but the only thing I can tell you about it right now is that Margaret has an Asian pear espalier on the side of her house and I'm in love. I would love to link you to a picture of it but I can't find one that links back to Margaret's page, so you'll have to trust me that it's fabulous. I've been obsessed with the idea of doing an espalier tree in front of the chimney ever since and that led to a ferocious amount of calling around to local nurseries. 

The good news is that I found one not far away and they claim to be reserving it for me (I always wonder if nurseries are really saving plants though as they never take a deposit and it all seems very casual). Supporting it will requiring putting bolts and wires in the stone or mortar. Obviously a full southern exposure would be best, so fruiting may be slightly compromised but that's OK. I'm frankly more worried about aesthetics than production and would have been equally happy with a non-fruiting espalier if one were able to be located. 

I will leave the Hakonechloa after dividing in hopes that it can handle the increased amount of sun, but the Heuchera will be replaced. With what, I don't know. But it feels good to go in to gardening season with a plan. 

IF A TREE FALLS IN THE FOREST

If a tree falls in the forest and there's no one there to hear it, does it make a sound? I'm going to weigh in with my own answer to this age old question: No. I say that because on Sunday we discovered that a very large tree had, in fact, fallen in our woods, not far from our house, and until we tried to walk down our little path in the woods, we had absolutely no idea it had fallen.

It's a sad loss because it was yet another birch and of the few birches that remain on our property, it was one of the healthier ones. Birches are not long-lived trees in our area and I think most of the birches on our property were planted (or planted themselves) at about the same time, so we've been losing them steadily since we bought the house 14 years ago.

It turns out that the rather torrential rain we had last week did it in. I'm not sure how much rain we got but it was certainly a few inches at least over a handful of days. This birch, a naturally shallow-rooted tree, was growing in the woods near the creek and seems to have just toppled over, roots and all. Unfortunately it landed in a younger maple tree where it is currently hung up so we'll have to do something about that and a some point we'll take care of the trunk.

Unfortunately it's hung up in an otherwise healthy maple, so we'll have to get in there to free it up.

A few big branches fell onto the little path that we mow through the ferns in the woods in order to get to the road to the east of us. The branches are beautiful white ones, perfect for Christmas decorations, but I'm torn between wanting to find a spot to save them and wanting to stick them in the chipper shredder to make some great mulch.

So yep ... somehow a big 'ol tree fell and we had no idea. At least one mystery is solved.

OH CHRISTMAS TREE, OH CHRISTMAS TREE

Welcome to The Impatient Gardener blog, where Christmas happens in slow motion. I've been slow to get things finished this year, pared down the decorations and haven't quite finished wrapping yet.

That means that I'm just now getting around to showing you some of how Christmas is happening in my house. Today I'm showing you the tree, mostly because the lights in the lanterns on the mantel needed new batteries and I didn't want to show it to you without them lit.

Last year we put the tree in a container (now home to the boxwood by the garage) because our old dog Hudson would have a tough time navigating around it. This year we did the same thing except with a basket because our puppy would surely wreak havoc on a tree.

Frankly, I quite like the look. The tree still appears tall but it doesn't take up as much space in the room. We ended up with a Canaan fir this year, mostly because the tree lot was sold out of Frasier firs. As proof that I have mellowed dramatically over the last decade, we actually picked it out in five minutes via Facetime, with Mr. Much More Patient at the tree lot and me at work. It's a beautiful tree but the branches have gotten very droopy.

When it comes to Christmas trees, I'm a traditionalist, so I will never have a trendy tree. I like mine with red and white lights (interestingly I use the same amount of lights regardless of the size of the tree), some regular ball ornaments, fancy ornaments that have been given to me over the years, and topped off with dozens of glass icicles.

In case you were wondering, it is possible to have a beautiful tree with a puppy (even one who is currently weighing in at 75 pounds) around. Here's how I do it:

1. I happened to find a tree stand that fits perfectly in the basket, so it's a tight fit, but in the past I've also used rocks to help stabilize it. 
2. We always tie the Christmas tree up with fishing line. You can't see it unless you're really looking and the peace of mind is so worth a little extra time.
3. I don't put anything fragile on the bottom of the tree, even when it's raised up in a container.
4. I used ornaments with bells on them at the bottom of the tree so I can hear if Christmas tree hijinks ensue.
5. Any ornaments that are toward the bottom of the tree get attached tightly, rather than just hung on a branch.

You'll notice the top of the tree is rather naked. Turns out I forgot that the star (which I didn't care for much) broke last year, so I ran out and got something new but I haven't gotten around to putting it up there. Maybe tonight.

So that's the tree. That just leaves the rest of the decorating, the Christmas card, the wrapping and maybe the cookies to show you tomorrow. Like I said, home of the slowest Christmas reveal ever.

If you can't stop in tomorrow because you are busy celebrating, I wish you a very merry Christmas (or happy Hanukkah, a bit late, or Festivus or whatever you choose to celebrate).

Big snow, big mess

Last week Tuesday we got a dumping of snow the likes of which we've not seen for years around here.   It wasn't so much the quantity—a healthy 12 inches at least, but probably more like 14 or 15—but the water content of what fell. I read somewhere that it had 30% more water than the average snowfall, thanks to the storm system picking up massive amounts of moisture from Lake Michigan.

All that heavy snow wreaked havoc on the yard. The trees were laden with snow, bowing under its immense weight.

I've heard plenty of times that it's not good to shake the snow off trees (I believe that's because the branches can be brittle and break when they snap back up), but it was clearly a salvage mission out there. The Serviceberry tree, which stands at good 20 or 25 feet tall was reduced to a 6-foot-tall mound, all its branches bending over. The new arborvitaes planted last year had all flopped over, laying almost flat in the snow. The main branch on an older birch that we hang the bird feeders on drooped so low the bird feeders were laying on the ground.

The Serviceberry to the left of the photo was completely crumpled.

One of the bird feeders was sitting on the ground as a branch of an old birch bowed under the weight of the snow.

The cedar trees, though, sustained the worst of the damage. We have precious few cedars left on our property as they are difficult to grow because they are the favorite treat of deer and therefore are stripped bare of all foliage 7 feet off the ground and lower. They do line our driveway and we have a lovely mature cedar outside the living room window that provides an excellent screen from the neighbors and the road. We also have a few more the east edge of our property that screen us from the neighbor in that direction.

That's our garage back there. The Serviceberry was bending almost into what should have been the driveway and the cedars and spruces on the other  side of the driveway were full of broken branches.

Every cedar lost branches. We actually had to cut branches along the driveway just so our neighbor who plows for us could clear the driveway. The ones to the east were a huge mess. And the great cedar outside the living room lost two branches, causing the remaining tree to list toward the house, at one point making it so heavy with snow that it rested on the roof.

With a main branch broken, this big cedar outside the living room was listing badly.

We spent all weekend clearing fallen branches and took six overflowing truckloads of branches away. Lumberjacking is exhausting work!

Most trees recover pretty well once the snow falls off them and the remaining part of that cedar did pop back up a little, but it's clear that losing two more main branches (we had cut one damaged one off that balanced it in the other direction several years ago) was the death nail. It's no longer safe.

The ancient birch tree that the bird feeders were on needs to go as well. We knew that was coming when we were hanging Christmas lights on it and discovered that the entire thing is mostly hollow and dead.

And then there is the great birch to the east. It is a stately tree that I look at from our bedroom windows in every season. I've noticed over the last couple years that the branches seem to be getting closer and closer to the bedroom windows. It is a lovely tree to set the hammock under and relax in summer. Occasionally we find huge dead branches from it fallen on the lawn. It's not healthy.

Sadly I think it's time for this birch to go.

Birch trees have a life span of about 50 years here and I have to think this tree is at least that. This has been wearing on us lately, and last week when I laid in bed listening to the branches break outside (I heard the big cedar branch come down with a huge crack), I couldn't sleep for fear that I'd wake up with that birch tree in my bed. I guess when you start not being able to sleep because you're worried about a tree falling on your house, it is, perhaps, time to do something about that tree.

We will be incredibly sad to see it go, which is why we've put off what we knew was inevitable for at least three years now.

Any doubts we had about our decision to have the tree removed by a professional when the snow melts a little (but before the ground thaws to minimize damage to the yard), were tempered when we saw the huge birch that fell in our next door neighbor's yard during the snowstorm. Our houses were built within a year of each other and we have reason to believe the trees were planted at about the same time too.

Our neighborhood is called Cedar Beach, but with all the damage to the cedars in the neighborhood, I'm starting to think someday the "cedar" part of Cedar Beach won't make much sense.

Somewhere under that pile, the boxwood meatball is lurking. I wonder if it will be totally flattened when it emerges.

The stress-free tree

I've had all kinds of Christmas trees over the year. In 2004 I had a giant 14-foot tall thing that fell over within 10 minutes of finishing decorating (all future trees have been tied on top since then). The year we went to the British Virgin Islands right before Christmas we just had a small tree stuck in a pot outside. Last year I put up a small tree in an urn inside.

Many of these trees were fraught with stress (well, not the BVI year). I remember the year I absolutely flipped out because we got a tree that was "too small." It was not a happy year. I have literally been in tears on multiple occasions over the not-perfect tree.

But that was then and this is now. Welcome to the stress-free tree (a bit part of the stress-free Christmas I've been aiming for this year). You might notice that you are reading this just days (hours?) before Christmas. That's because I just finished it. And I'm OK with that.

Because we were shopping for a tree relatively late in the season, we knew a lot of tree lots would be picked over, and trees were already pretty stressed because of our summer of drought. So we decided to go back to the tree farm not far from our house, the scene of many an argument.

(It was also the scene of what certainly would have been a YouTube sensation if anyone nearby had a video recorder --this was pre-cell phone video days. We had both dogs with us. Hudson was probably 2 or 3 and Rita was either 1 or 2. That meant they were both huge and not so well trained. I was hanging onto their leashes when a seriously well-behaved lab--of leash and in a perfect heel-- walked by. They went nuts and I was determined not to be the annoying person at the tree farm with the awful dogs so there was no force on earth that was going to make me let go of those leashes. So they pulled, and I hung on. I hung on to the point where was being dragged by my out-of-control dogs, over the stumps of previously cut down trees. It hurt and I got up bruised, covered in snow and burrs and more than a little embarrassed but I'll be damned, I was still hanging onto those dogs. They don't come with us anymore.)

Anyway, in order to keep the process from going array -- that is to say, lasting for hours while I searched for the perfect tree -- we showed up at 3:30 p.m. on a Friday. That meant that we would have a maximum of 45 minutes for the entire tree-buying process before the sun went down.

Our timing couldn't have been more perfect. The owner of the tree farm was heading into the field to pick up a tree in his truck and he invited us to hop in for a ride, which we did. It has been a long time since I road in the back of a pickup truck. It's sort of fun.

Pickup truck ride to the tree field.

We hopped out at the Frasier Fir field and he told us to cut whatever tree we wanted at whatever height we wanted (they charge by the variety, not the size). After shuffling around in the snow (a bit of a surprise because at this point we had no snow at our house and this far isn't far from us) and giving a thumb's down to about four trees, I found it.

The one.

Mr. Much More Patient about fell over when I said I was sure of my decision, even after he pointed out a few less-than-full areas. I made a few cuts and then decided that was sort of a lot of work and handed the saw over to the lumberjack-in-training.

Holy cheesy smile.

Better let the professionals take over.

And then we dragged that baby right out of the field. The owner swung back around in his pickup truck for it and we were checked out, wrapped up and full of hot cider  less than a half hour after we arrived. A new record.

Sure the tree sat unadorned in the living room for the better part of a week. That's OK. Stress-free Christmas, remember? So I got the lights on (not particularly even or wrapped as nicely as I like, but that's OK) and several more days passed before I pulled out the ornaments and got that thing decorated.

It's so tall I couldn't the star in the picture!

I like to have the tree down by New Year's Day so it won't be there for long. That's OK too. The ornament boxes didn't have to go far. The ornaments aren't spaced very well (although part of that is on purpose ... only non-breakables can go on the bottom of the tree with two huge dogs around; and all bell-type ornaments hang on the bottom to tip me off when someone is rooting around where they shouldn't be) and it's far from perfect. And you know what? That's OK.

I'm writing this on Christmas Eve. I'm about to head into work and everything, save for a little bit of laundry, is finished. I have never, ever had that happen before. I'm convinced it's because I stopped caring about things being perfect and started just doing the things that mattered to us. Martha Stewart wouldn't approve, I'm certain, but that's OK (never liked her much anyway).

I hope you all have a wonderful, stress-free Christmas!

The ornament I won in our ugly ornament exchange, front and center on the tree!