Friday, August 19, 2022

Thoughts about the trees in veneraton: redwood, aspen, bristlecone

  

Veneration

Note added 9/4/2022: the ancient trees are in danger

When I wrote this song two years ago I was not too worried about these trees. I had naively thought they were doing fine, not yet touched by climate change, and having lived so long, through so much, that they could survive the problems we are creating. I knew redwood forests were being hit by fires, but I also knew they needed fire. But through this last year I've learned that these trees are in fact in trouble, and each needs our attention and preservation efforts to continue to thrive. So I added to each section about the trees some notes regarding their fragility.

   

Pando, 12/2021, Photo by theilr@flickr. No little ones to be seen...
 

 _____________________

 

This song is dedicated to George & Gladys Korber

      

My parents often took my sister and me to visit the great the forests of the American West.  We were raised in LA, but the coastal redwoods, Sequoia sempervirens, the Sierra redwoods, Sequoiadendron giganteum, and the great aspen stands of the Rockies, Populus tremuloides, were all part of our summer-lives.  My father knew by name and habit every tree of the western forests.  My mother wasn’t fussed about names, trees just delighted her.  She affectionately called the ancient and dignified Pinus longaeva of the lonely White Mountains “Bristletoes”.  I suspect this might be their true and secret name; it suits them. The trees became extended family, the sweet scent of their woodlands a sanctuary. 

 

Thanks, Mom and Dad. 

 

#Pando. Latin for “I spread”. One tree, a clone with shared roots, became a forest. Pando is ancient: some estimate that he is 80,000 years old, some say 13,000; I think it must be hard to know precisely, he’s just … old. Pando’s seed found its home as the glaciers retreated, likely a place near a spring in soil left rich by fire, strong beginnings that enable a take-off. His first root sipped some water, his first leaf unfurled in the sun. He stretched out to cover mountains. He became the forest that he is now the essence of, in the mountains of Utah. His extended family forests much of the Rocky Mountains. He shimmers, he sings, and he is utterly beautiful. 

Pando is dying. He needs wolves. (Pando, One of the World's Largest Organisms, is Dying). It turns out that cattle and deer enjoy the tender young saplings too much. There are no apex predators left anywhere near Pando's woods, and the deer can jump the fences that have been put up to protect the forest. My family went to visit Pando last winter. It was incredibly peaceful in that forest, the trees rising from deep snow with their graceful limbs bare and shining white bark against blue sky. But the sad reality that I had read about was very evident: there are no saplings. 

You can hear Pando, this ancient giant being, sing his own song (leaf, bark, truck, roots into the ground) in these amazing recordings: 

https://www.npr.org/2023/05/10/1175019538/listen-to-one-of-the-largest-trees-in-the-world

#Methusela. Methusela is the oldest of the Bristlecone pines in the White Mountains. She is, in fact, the oldest known living being (outside clonal life, like Pando). She is thought to have germinated in 2880 BC, and so is nearly 5,000 years old. Bristlecones live in wild high places, grow slow, and take the shape of the wind. They hold the history of the seasons, the history of rain, in their rings, so they are a living a record of the climate. Older trees that lived and died can be linked to the patterns in Methusela’s tree rings, and together they can take us back through 9,000 years of seasons. They are teachers. Their forests are places of peace.  

The Bristlecones of the White Mountains live so far from human comforts, in high mountains in a dry, austere landscape, with white alkaline soils, that I had hoped we could not harm them. But our broad impact on the climate is endangering them, as the bristlecones are becoming vulnerable to bark beetles, the same beetles that have been on climate change-charged spree of tree-killing in many western forests, as trees are left more vulnerable by prolonged drought and intense heat (Drought and bark beetles are killing the oldest trees on Earth. Can the trees be saved?). The same drought that makes the piñon and Ponderosa pine near my New Mexico home vulnerable to these beetles is weakening these ancient ones. Bark beetles bore through the bark into the inner bark, phloem; to protect themselves the trees fill these bore holes with sap and force the beetles out and heal. But to make enough sap, trees need water. 

#Sequoia. The coastal redwoods are the last of the genus Sequoia. They can live to be more than 2,000 years old, and are the tallest trees, growing up to 115.5 meters. In a grove, head back looking straight up, awe reawakens, a feeling too rare in our times. Sequoias thrive in the cloud-mist and fog and the cool coastal rains that are the life-giving sweet breath of the Pacific. Their forests are the gentlest places. Fern, bird song, water music, the perfume of bay laurel. Tiny white blossoms of wood strawberries, with promise of sweetness to come. Blue jay and butterfly, the wild iris and her bees. 

Finally, both the coastal redwoods and the giant sequoia have been subject to great fires exacerbated by drought and heat due to global warming coupled with past fire suppression leaving excess fuels in dense understory. These conditions allow fires to rage with greater intensity. An example is Big Basin Redwood Park. 97% of this park burned, but some the old growth trees have survived along with the spirit of those that tend the forest (Big Basin's Story) (After the Fire). Despite being both fire resistant and fire-dependent the magnificent Giant Sequoia are also becoming more susceptible to fire (Wildfires Kill Unprecedented Numbers of Large Sequoia Trees).

Veneration is the first song to be recorded of a trilogy of tree songs that I’ve written, and each one of the three songs are sung to old Irish melodies. This one, Veneration, is sung to Carolan’s Welcome, a tune by the great harpist Turlough O’Carolan (1670-1738). Music and image credits are at the end of the video, thanks to all that helped me with this. 


This Song won the 2022 New Mexico Music Award for Best Song in the World Music Category.



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