The Weeping Willows of Riverside Park South

Weeping Willow

This past May a new stretch of parkland along New York City’s Hudson River was completed. Rustling tall grasses, a winding wooden boardwalk, slant-back chairs, and an abundance of Weeping Willows make Riverside Park South a serene destination. One feature of this park is rare for the city: a section of tiered steps at the water’s edge allow you to sit at water level.

The majority of the Weeping Willows (Salix babylonica) are young; many years will pass before these fast-growing trees reach their full height of 30 to 40 feet. I imagine that someone at the Park’s department must have weighed in on the invasive capacity of these trees. Not only can one tree drop half a million seeds a year, the easily broken twigs can root in the ground where they fall.

That said the enveloping canopy of shade created by a full-grown Weeping Willow is exceptionally lush. This past August I sat under one at a Lower East Side community garden. The drooping branches curtained me from the heat like a gigantic beach umbrella.

For more information on the park and the dedicated volunteers who fought to preserve the land for public use go to the NYC Parks and Recreation site.

Curb That Dog

Educate dog owners

If you ask nicely you can always ask again. Many a dog owner has heard me say, “Please don’t let your dog pee on the tree.” When said dog owner studiously ignores your request, repeat: “Excuse me, your dog is hurting that tree.” When said dog owner justifies the canine flow by declaring it fertilizer, educate them.

The concentration of urea, salt, and ammonia in dog urine is corrosive and will eventually destroy the bark of the tree, which leaves the tree vulnerable to disease. Planting flowers in the tree pit helps. Flowers make some dog owners feel guilty about dousing the colorful petals with urine. Of course, your best bet it to install a tree guard around the tree pit.

Some dog owners will snap at your request. Be firm, be polite, and ask them to, “Please curb your dog.”

Soil Compaction

Tree guards on duty!

The next time you saunter down a block and find yourself shaded by an especially lush and leafy tree take a second to see if someone has installed a metal tree guard around the tree pit. Then compare this tree to its weakened cousin, a tree with no tree guard. When people tromp across the tree pit or rest heavy futon frames against the trunk for Monday morning garbage pick-up they are compacting the soil. The packed soil prevents oxygen and water from reaching the tree’s roots. During a heavy downpour the water stays on top of the soil instead of penetrating below the surface.

On April 15, 2008, Drew Beecher, the Executive Director of the New York Restoration Project, recommended to the New York City Council that commercial developers be required to install tree guards on new properties. The 2008 Spring/Summer issue of Good Dirt, a newsletter produced by the New York Restoration Project, states that tree guards protect the tree from “pedestrians, dog waste, bicycles, and other urban elements.”

This is a hot issue. On July 20, 2008, the New York Times ran an article stating that the Transportation Department has recently ticketed many city homeowners because their tree guards block the sidewalk. Stay tuned for more updates on this issue.

Bradford Pear (Pyrus calleryana)

A row of Bradford Pears

A friend of mine calls the Bradford Pear a “weed tree.” Each spring when they flower and dot the streets like so many fluffy white Q-tips, it becomes apparent just how many were planted across the city. According to Edward Sibley Barnard, the author of the indispensable field guide New York City Trees, this species of Callery Pear was planted in abundance after 1963. Among the Bradford Pear’s desirable traits are its resistance to disease and tolerance of soil compaction and pollution. The tree’s aforementioned flowers and glossy green leaves that turn purple in the fall are other recommendations.

The danger of overplanting a particular species is that it creates what’s called a monoculture. While it’s true that a long line of similar trees creates a picturesque boulevard, that same boulevard won’t look so tidy when each and every tree has been ravaged by the same pest or disease. By planting a variety of species, you increase the odds that some of the trees on the boulevard will survive.

MillionTreesNYC

MillionTreesNYC is a citywide program launched in April 2007 with the goal of planting one million trees by 2017 throughout the five boroughs of New York City. The program is part of a larger initiative to improve the city’s environment. By planting one million trees, the New York City Parks Department in partnership with the New York Restoration Project, will increase our urban forest by 20 percent.

This is a tremendous undertaking. Young trees require maintenance if they are to thrive. My goal in the coming months is to introduce you to the various trees you see on your block and to encourage you to do your part to help these million saplings survive.

For more information on this program go to: http://www.milliontreesnyc.org/html/home/home.shtml

Tree of Heaven (Ailanthus altissima)

The Tree that Grows in Brooklyn

 The Tree of Heaven is a cheap date. This tree doesn’t require fancy terrain or tending. If you spot a tall skinny tree with long palm-like fronds growing from a crack in the asphalt you’ve likely spotted an ailanthus. In spring the tree emits a pungent, shall I say fertile, odor. Come late summer an ailanthus will drop thousands of seed pods called samaras. An nps.gov site stated that one tree can release almost 325,000 seeds a year.

This tree is invasive. When I lived in Brooklyn, I would pull its young branches from the middle of a prickly barberry bush at least five times a summer. The ailanthus is not invincible, however. A New York Times article from June 8, 1996, states that many of the city’s stands of ailanthus have fallen victim to a fungus. This is good news and bad news: good news because this quickly-growing tree crowds out native trees; bad news because it offers shade in neighborhoods where no one has bothered to landscape.

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Water That Tree

Tree no more

Do you notice the trees on your block? Do you care if the earth beneath the tree is dusty and littered with cigarette butts? Must the tree die and become an eyesore before you become aware.

Why should you care? If you live in a city a street tree may be your nearest brush with botany. A street tree let’s you boast, “The heat is not so bad if you stick to the shade.” Fat old trees let you hide from people you don’t like. Healthy trees smell finer than the exhaust from delivery trucks and buses. The rising rustle of branches and leaves before a storm is a thrilling cue that it’s time to go inside.

So, hoist that bucket and dampen the dust beneath your favorite tree once a week with at least 20 gallons of sweet, reviving water.

 

 

Ginkgo (Ginkgo biloba)

Ginkgo Tree

There is a ginkgo tree outside my fifth-floor bedroom window. The tree was probably planted in the 1970s, after the gypsy moth descended on the tri-state area. During the blight my schoolgirl cheeks were frequently accosted by the green cocoons and white silk threads that hung down from trees. To rebuild the urban forest that the gypsy moth consumed—thousands of acres were stripped bare of leaves—many cities planted ginkgos, a species the hungry moth ignores.

Ginkgos have been around for more than 200 million years. The T-Rex probably napped beneath its canopy. Young ginkgos resemble gangly teenagers with their long limbs lurching crookedly toward the sky. Given the proper amount of space these trees can grow to a height of 80 feet. In the fall the ginkgo’s fan-shaped leaves turn a bright yellow and then quickly drop.