Under the elm

Several years back, I saw a blurb in the local weekly paper in the want ads. Someone wanted leaves and if you had them raked into a pile, he'd collect them. I had done a good bit of raking, covered the garden and flower beds with all the leaves i wanted to use as a mulch and still had leaves left. I was happy to share the bounty.

He arrived promptly, and i helped him to fill tarps and drag them to his truck where we dumped the leaves. It was he who first told me that i had an elm tree in the yard.

He was more into chestnut trees, and after that meeting for the leaves, i never met  up with him again. I then wondered if the plants i thought were slippery elm were rather young elms and called the larger of the two Junior and the smaller Baby.

I searched to see if i could find someone who would help me with digging them out and transplanting them. Since they were likely sprung from the old elm in my yard--who had somehow escaped the dreaded Dutch elm disease that wiped out nearly every elm in the US--i wanted to have someone who knew what they were doing to help with these rare babies.

My searching came to naught, Junior grew a little more each year and was becoming quite crowded. Baby was in the shadows, not growing much, but happy to leaf out each summer.

And then i wondered if they really were elms or something else as the leaves were very close to Mother Elm but not exact. She had toothy edges and these younger trees didn't really. Junior had a slight toothy edge, Baby's was hardly noticeable.

We had a heavy snow in early April and another one about a month later in May. Both were extremely heavy, wet snows, and after the May snow, i saw many trees in our area succumb to the weighty white stuff. They snapped in half or lost large branches.

We didn't fare too badly, although a large branch of the white lilac, the branch most birds liked to perch on, twisted at its bottom. I wanted to wait until after it was done blooming before we cut it away, but Himself wanted to tend to it sooner. He was right to do so, but it pained me to cut it away with all those blooms showing great promise.

The maple on the line between us and our neighbour's, which is our neighbour's, lost another large branch. And as i walked around our yard, i saw that Mother Elm had also taken a hit. Two of her most canopy part in front and back were hanging. They're up too far for us to cut them, so i've called the arborist who trimmed our giant oak last year, as it had branches touching the roof.

He came out to see the elm and called me (we weren't home when he stopped to look) to say he could do it once we moved the boat, and it would take him between three and four weeks before he'd have room in his schedule for us. He lamented his boat was in a similar place, would we get ours in the water? Maybe. Yes, maybe he would, too, this year has been so weird.

I did say i wanted to see if we could save the tree, and he immediately replied, "We always try first t save the tree."

I said i agreed with that approach, but this one i felt especially dear since it was an elm, and they are so rare. I didn't want the mostly off/partly attached large branches to hinder her chances of survival.

He said, "Yes, it seems she escaped The Disease that took so many. We can also clean her up a little bit, and around her, too, if you'd like."

They had done the same when working on the oak tree, and we were pleased with the results, so i assented.

After the call, i went back out to look at the Mother Elm. Everything was greening up nicely, leaves extended themselves to their summer size, when i realized with a start that Junior had nary a leaf. I looked down at the base of his trunk, which like many elms, had multiple trunks rather than just one. He had three, and they were all twisted just enough to kill him. Like the lilac branch loaded with so many blooms.

This afternoon, i cut away most of Junior and felt very sad. I dragged the branches over to the woodshed where i'd break them down and put them in the tinder or larger sticks pile. A few of the smaller twigs had leaves on them. They were quite small, so methinks 'twas the May storm that did Junior in. Although the April one may have weakened him, too and May the death blow.

I  had hoped someone would help me dig him out and transplant him. It seemed ludicrous to have this tree die from a snowstorm when against all odds it had sprung up and grown so close it its now rare mother. I had done internet searches to see how best to transplant or care for them, but couldn't find anything besides generic tree information.

I marvelled that even though this tree was for all intents and purposes dead, a small part of it was still fighting to live. What if i cut off those living parts and stuck them in the ground? I realized that it was likely folly, but i couldn't not try. So there are now five awkward looking sticks with tiny leaves between the two witch hazel that decided to stick around.

I really do think Junior was an elm because he looked a miniature of Mother Elm. His shape, curve of his branches, and the canopy at the top mimicked hers.

Baby is still very much living in the understory of some volunteer maples, so when the arborist comes, I'm going to ask  him about Baby. Because the leaves are slightly different but only just, so i'm hopeful to get a positive ID and perhaps a plan for moving Baby to a better location.

And in that three to four weeks, we can see if any of the five sticks will leaf out more. I don't hold out a lot of hope but wanted to give them at least a thin whisper of a chance rather than relegating them immediately to the burn pile.