During a storm, the dead American Elm dropped the last of its limbs, leaving only a bare snag. Next to it was a skinny Pin Oak, a native tree that had volunteered.
Eight years later, the bare snag too had fallen and decayed into humus. Orioles were singing from the upper branches of the Pin Oak, which had grown as tall as our two-story house.
It made a lovely shape. By then we had learned how important native trees are to wild birds. And how the insects in native trees are the food of life to baby birds. Our young Pin Oak was supporting our booming population of orioles, bluebirds, and chickadees.
It spread a blanket of summer shade across the ground. A wild rose bloomed there, planted by a bird. We wondered what other flowers we could introduce under the oak.
Anything we planted there had to be able to live in the shade. However, many shade-garden flowers need lots of water. That’s a problem for oaks. Getting saturated repeatedly in summer can give them root rot. The shade-loving flowers would also have to endure being dry.
The woods on our land gave us the answer. Under their oaks, Blue Phlox, Spring Beauty, and Prairie Trillium put on a great show in spring. So I transplanted these three species under our Pin Oak.
The transplants were rescues from a site that was being dug up in the construction of a footbridge on our land.
The strategy of these native wildflowers is to come up early and bloom while the trees are still bare. By the time the trees leaf out, cutting off sunlight to the forest floor, the blooming time will be over. The plants will disappear back into the humus of the soil. They don’t need water in summer, because they are dormant. Flowers with this life pattern are called spring ephemerals.
I also moved some Wild Ginger and Wild Columbines, which are native to Iowa, from my garden. And some friends gave me starts of Virginia Bluebells from their woods.
The ginger slowly spread from its rhizomes in the ground. Within three years, it made a lush bed of leaves. If the summer is not too droughty, the leaves last until frost. The very day the columbine flowers opened in early May, hummingbirds arrived to suck their nectar. The Virginia Bluebells multiplied with abandon, making so many tiny new plants that I was able to give away dozens to friends.
We noticed a big patch of Mayapples growing wild in our woods. I marked the spot. In the fall, I dug three small roots and transplanted them under the Pin Oak.
The next spring, we had Mayapple plants. It took a couple of years before they bloomed, but now they’ve transformed the ground under our Pin Oak into a woodland microcosm.
My work was done. Nature would do the rest.
I grew up in Ontario in the sixties and seventies. The skeletal remains of dead elms bordered every field. Their dead branches like long withered arms reaching for salvation against a bright blue summer sky. At the end of our long driveway my pet crow "Inky" would wait in a dead elm tree for me to come home after school and fly down on my shoulder when I stepped off the bus. I don't think I've ever seen a live elm tree. Thanks for reminding me about the Elms.
What a life-affirming story! Mother Nature loves life AND has a time-tested plan. All we have to do is take some time to observe, and act in accordance with her example ... there is MUCH to ruminate over here.