I reach into the bag, where a selection of tree whips – hawthorn, blackthorn, buckthorn, guelder rose, hornbeam, spindle and crab apple – have been stored to keep the roots from drying out. What shall I select this time? Spindle I think. This one has quite an extensive root system, fine and feathery. I gently tuck them into the slit and, holding the slender green stem upright, I use the heel of my boot to close the open sides together, trying to ensure that the soil is pressed firm against the roots so that there are no air pockets that will lead to the plant dying from a lack of root development. Then I pick up a bamboo cane from the pile on the ground and insert it next to the prospective tree, one of hundreds that have been planted over the past few years to make a small copse that will provide shelter for wildlife and a much-needed barrier against the wind.
After yesterday’s relentless wind, dismal grey skies and driving rain, it is great to be greeted by a chillier but brighter morning. It’s amazing the difference a bit of sunshine makes to the day and people’s outlook and enthusiasm. The wind has dropped to a gentle breeze, still constant but nowhere near as numbing as yesterday’s nagging assault on the senses. Despite the chill, the sun is gently warming on my back as I bend to place the roots of another whip – a hawthorn – into the levered open slit in the earth. How much nicer planting trees is when it isn’t a test of one’s endurance of the elements. There is noticeably more chatter and more laughter, especially at the idea that there is a museum in the US dedicated to barbed wire, which leads onto ideas for other quirky museums, plastic pegs being one of the favourites. Using a spade I start another slit trench, 3 or 4 feet to the side of the last one, using my weight to ease it into the ground, which is remarkably dry. Standing atop the blade and rocking to and fro and side to side, more in an exaggerated effort to keep my balance than from any proven technique, the slit gradually deepens and opens up, the metal scrapping and crunching against hidden stones. Eventually, the blade is in most of the way and the exposed sides have been teased apart, taking care not to compact the soil too much. I reach into the bag, where a selection of tree whips – hawthorn, blackthorn, buckthorn, guelder rose, hornbeam, spindle and crab apple – have been stored to keep the roots from drying out. What shall I select this time? Spindle I think. This one has quite an extensive root system, fine and feathery. I gently tuck them into the slit and, holding the slender green stem upright, I use the heel of my boot to close the open sides together, trying to ensure that the soil is pressed firm against the roots so that there are no air pockets that will lead to the plant dying from a lack of root development. Then I pick up a bamboo cane from the pile on the ground and insert it next to the prospective tree, one of hundreds that have been planted over the past few years to make a small copse that will provide shelter for wildlife and a much-needed barrier against the wind. A spiral plastic tube goes over the top of both spindle and cane to provide the growing plant with support, while also protecting it against the unwelcome attentions of local roe deer and rabbits. It will also act as a mini greenhouse, guarding it against the frosts to come. Lastly a woven tree mat is placed over the top, each square having a convenient slit cut in the centre. Lose fibres float free and tickle my nose and cheeks. I try not to breathe then in. One tickles my lip and I brush it away before I accidentally swallow it. The mat is designed to suppress the competing grass and weeds although, from the look of the ones put down in previous years, this appears to be a somewhat dubious claim. However, they will help to keep the moisture in, something that will be much needed for these young trees on this exposed windswept slope. Lastly, the mat is pegged down, the plastic pegs looking like miniature upside down Christmas trees. These, along with the mats will biodegrade over time, or at least that's the claim. I pick up the spade, mark out another gap and repeat the process, this time with a hawthorn… then with a hornbeam… then with a blackthorn…always ensuring that there is a mix of trees rather than a grouping of just one type. Over time some of these trees will do well, some will struggle and some will fail. In theory, planting them reasonably close will encourage them to compete and the strongest plants will come to the fore. When the time comes to thin out the trees to give them a healthy space in which to grow it is these that will be favoured until, after a number of thinning exercises, the copse will be made up of the strongest, healthiest, most vigorous trees. After lunch the clouds begin to gather the rain is clearly visible in the distance, like vertical lines of a thick grey mist. It looks like we are in for another wet afternoon. Oh joy, another evening of clothes drying on the radiator! Then, just as it looks as though we’re in for a soaking, successive rain clouds pass to either side – as though the weather has taken pity on us for yesterday - and, instead we are treated to a succession of rainbows. Before long the sun has broken through again and the weight of expectation is suddenly lifted from our shoulders. Then, as the sun dips and the light begins to fade the day comes to an end with the last trees being planted, the last canes being put in and the last of the tree mats being pegged down. Looking back at the growing forest of canes, I get an overwhelming of satisfaction, of having contributed towards something that hopefully future generations will reap the benefit of. Greek proverb: “A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in.”
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AuthorDespite being raised in London I have been a lover of the countryside all my life. Over the past few years I have been priviledged to be able to work as a countryside management volunteer, picking up new skills and knowledge along the way and seeing the countryside in a way I never had before. The Urban Countryman is my personal view of that countryside, the seasons and the work that goes on to protect and manage this wonderful environment. Archives
January 2019
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