Forest Garden (part 2)

Emergence: a photo essay of a black walnut grove.

Often times, I am asked when someone buys a nut or fruit tree from me: “how long will it be until it produces nuts or berries or fruit”. Of course there are many sources of information available that provide estimates for the maturation of most trees, but in fact, the question is difficult to answer given the many variables to consider.

Choosing to plant a tree is like accepting and invitation to being surprised. Unlike most other ‘goods’ we can purchase, trees appear to have a mind of their own —for indeed they do! And even when planted in the best of situations — where the conditions meet all of their apparent requirements for optimal ‘growth’ — it is still possible (although the odds are lessened) that our beloved (and often expensive) tree might not thrive or even survive. Planting and caring for a tree teaches us to expect and even embrace the unexpected.

But for me, the question of how quickly a tree will produce nuts or fruit is not the most important, or the most interesting question to be pondering. So, I always try and paint a broader, more vivid picture of what to expect by extolling a range of delightful possibilities that someone daring enough to plant a tree might get to experience. These expectations follow a trajectory of emergence and relationship building that bind us —the human tree-planters — together with our trees, as they (and we) grow and change over many years. For indeed, that is what we are talking about — many years! There will be many years of commitment and care —watering (especially in the first summer), mulching, and ensuring our tree has access to quality soil and nutrients. There will be years of waiting and watching to learn how our trees respond to their surrounding and to us. We will spend years anticipating the expected and unexpected vagaries of each season (especially as the earth’s climate changes) that could set a tree back: such as late spring frosts, summer droughts, infestations of disease, insects, or deer, wind and even fire! But, along with all the worry and dedication there comes many moments of wonder, when we notice the glorious small things.

Then, one fine day you suddenly notice that the tree seedling you planted and nurtured all those many years ago is taller than you are. That the bark has changed from a smooth juvenile sheen, to a darkening grey and roughened adult coat. That certain birds prefer to visit your tree and roost in the branches. That your tree now casts a shadow. And then, suddenly, there comes the season when you behold the first blossom buds forming, and you know that you and your tree have arrived —together — at the long awaited year of fruiting and a promised harvest. The harvest, however, is not the ultimate reward for your perseverance and loyalty to each other. The harvest is merely one more step in your journey together; one more event in your shared and unfolding story. This relationship of mutuality and passion builds slowly, steadily, and surely - poco a poco.

The following is a photo essay of the black walnut (juglans nigra) grove I began planting, shortly after arriving at our Cape Breton homestead in the fall of 2018. As I described in Part one of this series on Forest Gardening, my partner and I had purchased a once-upon-a-time farmstead, whose long abandoned hay fields were trying their darnedest to return to being a forest. Much of the field directly behind the old farm-house was well established in an array pioneer flora, but the small section where I chose to plant my black walnut saplings —that I had started from seed that spring — was still relatively free from the encroaching hawthorns (Crataegus spp.), white spruce (Picea glauca), wild apple (malus spp.), bayberry (Myrica pensylvanica), chokecherry (Prunus virginiana), and serviceberry trees (Amelanchier spp.). It seemed like the perfect location, as my young walnut trees would have little in the way of competition from the wilding trees.

While black walnut is going to be the main tree (canopy) in this grove, I intend to plant other botanicals to fill the vertically layered scheme of a forest garden design: canopy, understory…..

The area of my future black walnut grove (as depicted in the photos below) is approximately one acre, with an open, north-facing slope bordered by 2 shallow ravines, that only rarely have a water flow. Regenerating the patterns of water flow on this land is a long range objective for me.

One acre plot for black walnut grove. October 2018

Photo taken facing north-west: my friend Torch and I began planting trees the day after we arrived in Cape Breton. October 2018.

Black walnut saplings, from seed collected in the fall of 2017 Lake St. Peter, Ontario. These trees were approximately 6 months old.

Mulched with cardboard from moving boxes and random bits of old, rotting wood we found. I had also brought a bit of compost with me in the moving van.

In total we planted about a dozen black walnut trees that first day!

I built nests of sticks to protect the walnut trees from browsing deer, and to add more nutrients to the soil and encourage the growth of forest fungi.

My first garlic patch, hand-dug in the foreground, with a few of my black walnut stick-nests in the back ground. My stick nests provided a visual that allowed me to more easily imagine the impact the maturing trees would have on this space.

Early spring (2019). Some of the trees had been girdled by rodents, although none were killed. I realized that my stick nests, while keep the deer at bay, had provided perfect rodent habitat during the winter, especially since we had, had a heavy snow load. I determined that the perimeter of the nests needed to be moved further away from the base of the tree before the next winter set in.

That first spring (2019) here, we got a late frost. Since my black walnuts had already begun to unfurl their leaf buds, the first set of leaves were fried by the frost. I was worried the trees had been killed, but after a couple of weeks of looking pretty sorry, they did grow a new set of leaves. But the trees had clearly been set back several weeks of growth, and they reestablished themselves, they also grew new ‘leaders’ branches, where the first terminal bud had been destroyed by frost. Now my trees would no longer be able to grow straight, but would always have a forked trunk, unless I pruned to establish a single leader again. Late spring frosts are a significant liability for fruit and nut trees in Cape Breton, especially since our homestead was in a bit of a valley — a frost pocket.

August 2019, nearly a year after being planted - and a dramatic set-back from being zapped by a late spring frost — the little black walnuts are thriving.

November 2019. Reinforcing the stick-nests for the coming winter, I remembered to move the perimeter of the nests further away from the little tree trunks to mitigate rodent predation. I also have planted additional trees in this black walnut grove including: shagbark hickory, American hazelnut hybrid, Sweet Chestnut hybrid, pawpaw, and heart-nut.

Compared to the first picture in this series (nearly a year earlier) the black walnut grove is really starting to fill in. Although the trees themselves are not very big, the sick-nests help me to visualize how the forest garden will look as it matures.

In the spring of 2020 my young trees got hit again by a late spring-frost. I was beginning to understand the impact of planting trees at a location where I had not taken the time to observe a whole year’s worth of seasonal change. But I was still hopeful that the black walnuts et al, would eventually grow tall enough that they would not be as affected by the frosts, which tended to only damage plants close to the ground.

June 10, 2020. The ‘morning after’ a late frost. I was devastated by the look of the tender little leaves.

July 31, 2020. Just a little over a month after the devastating frost fried the first leaves. My little trees have recovered and even put on some height. Notice that the stick-nests are nearly invisible. That is because the wood has rapidly decomposed, adding nutrients to the soil, and encouraging mycorrhizal relationships.

I’ll end this segment of the photo essay here, as I am nearing the allowable length limit. I will continue the photo essay (years 2021- present 2023) shortly. I hope you have enjoyed taking this little trip down memory lane with me, and that you feel inspired to take on planting more trees, or even establishing a forest garden. As you can see, after only two years the trees have really made an impact on the land here, and I can already well imagine how my forest garden will look as it becomes more mature. There is still plenty of room in this one acre space to add more trees, shrubs and plants, which I intend to do! Until next time - many tree blessings.