There was a time when I wondered what I would do with myself once I finished building the garden. I’m the sort of gardener who gets more pleasure out of the process than the result. As it turns out, I needn’t have worried.
In 20 years, the garden has never even approached “done.” Colorado’s capricious weather sees to that. This spring I’m dealing with the damage from a snowstorm last September that hammered mostly south and east of the Denver metro area. Six inches of very heavy, wet snow crushed and broke just about every tree for miles in every direction.
A 30-foot green ash next to the front sidewalk toppled over and landed in the street. A black locust in the backyard looked like a sprung umbrella. We’ve always been told that weak-wooded trees like these were especially prone to such damage. But, in this storm, the breakage was indiscriminate. An “indestructible” bur oak, although salvageable, was left badly misshapen.
This storm’s widespread havoc illustrates why the plains of eastern Centennial are mostly treeless. In the woodlands of the eastern United States, trees are what grow back when man stops cultivating the land. Here, nature attempts to re-establish the equilibrium by destroying our hubristic attempts to put a forest where it doesn’t really belong.
Ecological considerations aside, my garden has a lot less privacy and a lot less shade than it did before the storm eliminated two of the largest trees. The saying “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade” generally sends me into a nearly homicidal rage, but where the garden is concerned, you might as well try to view every disaster as a chance to rectify former errors.
I’m not sure why I chose a green ash in the first place, other than 20 years ago it was being promoted as a practically unkillable tree. My biggest mistake was not selecting a seedless variety. This tree rained down thousands of samaras, aerodynamic seedpods, all of which seemed to germinate and create an annual “lawn” of green ash seedlings that had to be pulled out by hand.
Ash sawflies, a pest that was unheard of when I planted the tree, are now heard loud and clear every spring all across the metro area as they audibly munch the leaves down to bare stems. So, truth be told, I’m well rid of the green ash. While hauling branches to the chipper-shredder, I contemplated what would best fill the hole left behind.
The front garden has a preponderance of herbaceous and deciduous plants so this was the perfect opportunity to introduce something evergreen. Water shortages are ongoing in my neighborhood so the replacement had to be fairly drought-tolerant. The best choice was an evergreen that would get tall enough, say 8-10 feet, to provide privacy without blocking the light, but not wide enough to hog the whole bed. I also wanted something slightly out of the ordinary.
I took my list of requirements to Kelly Grummons at Timberline Gardens. He had one tree left in stock that fit the bill. The Swiss stone pine Pinus cembra “Chalet” he recommended could eventually become the centerpiece of the front-yard garden – if our erratic weather lets it live long enough. For now I’m just happy it survived the winter.
Marcia Tatroe is a garden writer and lecturer. E-mail her at rltaurora@aol.com.
