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TREES GROWING OUT OF ROCK IS NORTH SHORE MARVEL
Lilacs were showing off their lavish lavender blooms in Duluth and along Minnesota's North Shore during three days at the end of June as I joined my daughter for canoeing, hiking, wildflower viewing and a full-moon sail on Lake Superior. I was experiencing spring a second time because lilacs "down south" in Carver County had finished blooming three weeks earlier.
As we hiked the cascading river trails at Gooseberry Falls, Temperance River, Kadunce and Judge Magney state parks we were treated to blankets of bunchberry blossoms and mounds of thimbleberry bushes in full bloom. Our noses alerted us to wild roses even before we spotted the pink flowers growing in sunny openings amidst the dense canopy of maples, birch, aspen, spruce and pine.
Bunchberries are one of the signature flowers of the northern forest in late spring. They grow in large masses spread across the forest floor. With its easily recognizable four-petaled white flower, this member of the dogwood family is easy to photograph. It's tempting to stop and peer through the camera lens at each new floral display. Bunchberry flowers are replaced in the fall by clusters of showy, bright-red berries.
One horticultural marvel of the rocky North Shore is plant life growing out of solid rock. As we eased our bodies to the very edge of Palisade Head, a 200-foot rock cliff on Lake Superior, we marveled at alders, cedar and mountain ash trees that had somehow managed to establish footholds in the most unlikely spots. How do these woody plants obtain moisture to sustain life? I'm sure there is a plausible scientific answer but, lacking scientific references, we concluded they must absorb moisture through their leaves, thanks to the moist atmosphere created by waves crashing against the rocky shoreline.
Amber, a former wilderness guide on the Gunflint Trail, informed me she had once descended Palisade Head while leading a contingent of teenage campers on a rock-climbing expedition. She made the descent without mishap but didn't have sufficient stretch and strength to climb the last 6 feet to muscle over the top of the rock ledge. She recalled her feelings of failure and dejection as she climbed her way back to the bottom. "I was so depressed. I remember crying for a while, and then discovering a thicket of ripe raspberries. As I popped juicy berries into my mouth, I knew everything would be okay."
The raspberry story related to a note I had sent to Amber during her first year of college in Oregon at another time when she was feeling stressed. She said the following Zen story helped her put the climbing experience into perspective.
"As a Buddhist monk was meditating, he heard the growl of a tiger. He started running and soon came to a 150-foot cliff. A mouse came along and showed him a vine that hung down from the cliff. He grasped the vine and began his descent. Halfway down he discovered another tiger at the bottom of the vine. As he hung there pondering his plight, he noticed a strawberry plant growing on a small ledge. Growing on the plant was a plump, juicy strawberry. He picked the strawberry. He enjoyed the strawberry."
Okay, back to the North Shore...many decades ago the northern forests were mainly white and red pine and white cedar. On our hikes on state park trails we saw numerous woven-wire cages along the paths. These 2-foot-diameter x 6-foot tall cylinders were put in place by forestry workers to prevent deer from destroying tender, young conifers.
Deer populations began to explode after logging, and now it's hard for white pine and white cedar to get established, according to park managers. White-pine seedlings are protected with the fencing and also by "bud capping" - covering the main shoot (terminal bud) with a piece of folded paper. The paper deters deer from eating the tender new terminal shoots.
We made an unannounced call on a gardening friend at Lutsen who is living proof of the dueling-with-deer game that North Shore gardeners are forced to play. We discovered Don double-digging the red earth in a 40-foot x 40-foot fenced enclosure that will become a raised-bed garden after many more hours of heavy labor. Twelve raised beds will be filled with soil that Don, a retired geologist, is manually sifting through his geology sieve. I have no doubt that he will produce marvelous flowers and vegetables during the 2005 growing season but clearly at a high cost in terms of sweat and building materials.
I could write many more paragraphs about horticulture on the North Shore. If you haven't visited recently, I encourage you to "head north" before the end of the brief northern summer.
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PUTTING DOWN ROOTS:
A Delightful Blend of
Gardening Wisdom, Wit
and Whimsy
$10 + $2 for shipping
by Cliff Johnson |
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