Jay is active in a number of clubs and has contributed greatly to the local scene. He acquired the maple below some time ago and has done a great job developing the ramification.

Japanese maple

If only there were more big maples around. They are a striking variety in every season and are relatively easy to care for.

From below

Maple roots and moss

All of Jay’s trees featured bright green moss as a top-dressing. He claims a secret source for the stuff – a valuable vein somewhere in Marin County.

I missed the opportunity to get a shot of a second large maple Jay had on display, but I caught his trident maple, again displayed with the great moss.

Trident maple

All told there were plenty of attractive maples at the show, including the following.

Japanese maple

Japanese maple

Japanese maple ‘kiyohime’

I recently learned that Kiyohime is a mythic Japanese character who, once driven to a mighty rage, transforms into a fiery serpent. It didn’t end well for her paramour, the priest Anjin.

I don’t know that the variety is named for her, but I can’t say the name is inappropriate due to its fiery spring colors.

Landscape

Abstract

Monkey and bird

Landscape

Flowers

Box display

Box display

Open box display

See more photos from the exhibit here.

For all of this, I’m grateful. Bonsai has enriched my life and led me on wonderful adventures around the world. Through it, I have made lasting friendships and learned to appreciate some of the more subtle beauties nature has to offer. I expect this year will be no different.

Years ago, I came across a flyer that provided a good summary of what makes a bonsai special. Age, character, and beauty, it asserted. I’ve used the definition often. If a tree lacks age, it cannot demonstrate its relationship to the environment. If it lacks character, there is nothing to distinguish it from the next tree on the bench. And if it lacks beauty, whether the elegance gained over time or the heart-rending tenacity that keeps it alive, the tree will fail to move us.

Full of age, character, and beauty, the Bristlecone Pines never fail to move me. The following grow along the Discovery Trail in the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest.

One of the more famous trees along the trail. It lived for over 3,000 years.

It’s neighbor is still alive – it too has celebrated more than 3,000 new years.

John next to a huge Bristlecone pine.

Maybe the most photographed branch in the grove. The natural twists are outstanding.

A proud tree on the west edge of the grove.

Two Bristlecones catching last light.

]]> http://bonsaitonight.com/2009/10/16/bristlecone-pine-deadwood/feed/ 0 xwires http://bonsaitonight.com/2009/10/13/most-ancient-forest/ http://bonsaitonight.com/2009/10/13/most-ancient-forest/#comments Tue, 13 Oct 2009 15:00:13 +0000 xwires http://bonsaitonight.com/?p=737 ]]> By far the best Bay Island Bonsai field trip of the year was our visit to the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest in California’s White Mountain range. The slow-growing Bristlecone Pines are a marvel – and this is the best place to see them. Along the Methuselah Trail alone, 11 of the 19 known 4,000+ year-old specimens continue to grow, including some of the very oldest (see Anne Johnson’s The Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, 1999).

Really old Bristlecone Pine grove.

A combination of factors lead to such long lives, many of which are attributable to the locale. The growing season is short at 10,000 feet – two months give or take – and the weather is harsh. Summers are warm and dry. Overnight freezes mark spring and fall; winter is bitter cold. And unlike the Sierra Nevada range to the west, the White Mountains get relatively little precipitation, 80% of which comes in the form of snow.

It turns out that this is exactly what helps the Bristlecone live as long as they do. While these conditions make it hard for Bristlecone’s to thrive, they make it even harder on any pests or fungus that might give the trees trouble in more hospitable climes. Bristlecone growing in better soil with more precipitation grow larger and more quickly but die much younger.

Walking past a large Bristlecone

Many of the older Bristlecone sport dead roots that sit on top of the ground. This is due to erosion. The soil here typically washes down the mountains at a rate of about 1 foot per millenium. Gauging the original soil line is a good way begin estimating the age of a tree. When over a foot of roots are exposed, the tree is likely over 1,000 years old.

Erosion at the base of a Bristlecone

The Methuselah Trail itself cuts right through the most fascinating groves. Visitors are warned not to veer from the trail to protect the trees. As the soil is mostly loose rock and dust, wandering about can hasten erosion. Fortunately for visitors, there’s plenty to see at almost every turn.

Trompe l’oeil – the tree is big, but not that big. The photographer is shooting a subject behind the pine in the foreground.

Most of the oldest trees grow in a swath of particularly dolomitic soil, identified by the white band in the photo below. This is the Methuselah Grove. In it is the Methuselah tree, a 4,841 year-old specimen, and the world’s oldest known tree.

Methuselah Grove

The trees in the Methuselah Grove are smaller than the surrounding trees. Most are odd arrangements of deadwood with occasional younger shoots indicating that a tree is still alive. Several have fallen as erosion claimed the ground beneath the roots yet continue to grow upwards. The tree in the photo below is typical of the area. It is likely between 4,000 and 5,000 years old.

Very old Bristlecone

The Methuselah tree itself is unmarked to prevent unwanted attention. Curiosity rankles many visitors to the area, and the tree’s exact location is the subject of many questions put to on-duty rangers.

Awesome roots in the Methuselah Grove

After spending a day in the area I became very comfortable with the Methuselah tree’s secret. It’s neat to know how old the trees really are – and fascinating to know down to the year, thanks to dendrochronologists – but a tree’s exact age isn’t apparent to the human eye, and in the big picture, it actually counts for very little. I took as much time as possible to simply study the trees, to see how they grow, to follow the curves of their deadwood and to appreciate their unique characters. I think this is why the area has such appeal to bonsai folk – it’s an outstanding place to see age, character and beauty in nature.

A small Bristlecone

Of course, seeing smaller Bristlecone that exhibited characteristics sought after in bonsai brought big smiles to our faces. Some trees, like the one pictured above and below, received a lot of attention from our group as they were very understandable through our bonsai-tinted lenses.

Same tree from the side

This was my second trip to see the Ancient Bristlecone Forest. I think next time I’d like to spend more time in the area and explore the Patriarch Grove, home to the world’s largest Bristlecone Pine. Like a large bonsai exhibit – think Kokufu – it’s both wonderful and a lot to take in for one day.

Formal upright Bristlecone with hollowed-out trunk.

Our day ended with rain. It made the view more striking and it brought out the unique desert aroma of sage and sand. Driving down from the mountain we appreciated dramatic rays of light striking the Owens Valley below. The trees above, I am sure, were appreciating the fresh water.

See related post and gallery on Suiseki Art.

Like its closest relatives, the Rocky Mountains Bristlecone Pine and the Foxtail, the Great Basin Bristlecone Pine’s short needles grow in clusters of five. Unlike most pine needles, however, Bristlecone needles can live up to 20 or 30 years.

Bristlecone Pine foliage

Bristlecone pine cones mature over two years. The first year cones are small and blue with relatively long bristles.

Bristlecone Pine cone – first year

Second year cones are much longer longer and darker and are frequently covered with sap. The cone in the photo below is uncharacteristically free of sap.

Bristlecone Pine cone – second year

Male flowers cluster below new growth like tiny raspberries on the trees’ lower branches. Female cones typically develop near the top of Bristlecone pines. This helps maintain a grove’s genetic diversity. Were the catkins directly above the cones, the odds would be greater that a tree would self-pollinate.  Reversing this encourages cross-pollination and places the female cones where they’ll catch the most pollen from other trees in the wind.

Bristlecone pine – male flowers

Bristlecone pines produce viable seeds long into old age – there doesn’t seem to be a limit on their ability to parent new trees.

First, second, and third year cones on the same branch.

Bristlecone growth habits vary greatly. Occasionally they grow quite rangy, as demonstrated by the tree below.

Rangy growth habit

More commonly, Bristlecone produce very symmetrical growth with increased branch density near a tree’s base. While it’s hard to tell from the photo, the shoots above John’s arm represent at least 20 years of growth.

Bristlecone pine – typical growth habit

The Bristlecone are not, however, sought out for the details mentioned above. The isolated groves in the White Mountains are a global destination due to their unparalleled character obtained at very great age.

On a recent visit to the White Mountains – yes, to see the Bristlecone pines – I gained a new appreciation of the variety. Here are some photos of my favorite growing along the Methuselah Trail in the Ancient Bristlecone Forest, part of the Inyo National Forest.

Old Limber pine

John posing for perspective

Same tree – deadwood detail

Its foliage is easy to spot: pale green, needles in bunches of five, bright white branches – usually bare save for the past few years’  needles – and gray-brown bark. Its cones are pointy and green with flat scales.

Limber pine foliage

Limber pine cones

Keep an eye out for your favorites the next time you’re wandering around treeline in the Western US and Canada. Although they don’t have their own National Park, I imagine that there are plenty of breathtaking specimens out there.

Looking closely at the grain of this exposed wood reveals minute subtleties of shape and texture – the result, in part, of characteristics inherent to the wood itself.

When we create deadwood on our trees through carving and other techniques we inscribe a story directly onto the tree. The more compelling the carving, the more compelling the story. This is where quality comes in.

I’m impressed when bonsai artists quickly carve up deadwood with power tools. I’m more impressed when they do it well. Creating shapes not found in nature, working unevenly from branch to branch or haphazardly crossing the grain can belie a tree’s nature and create an incongruous story that yields more dissonance than harmony. Carefully thought out and well-executed carving can trigger our imagination by suggesting a more plausible story for a tree.

Michael Hagedorn relates an anecdote about natural deadwood in his account of life as an apprentice, Post Dated: The Schooling of an Irreverent Bonsai Monk. Barely able to contain his excitement about a tree that was new to his garden, Shinji Suzuki encouraged his students to name the “best point” of the tree:

Tachi hesitated, and said, “Ubu?” “YES!” said Mr. Suzuki. “This tree has never seen a carving tool – it could never have been improved by one.” Ubu (as if just born, innocent) is a very special, rare quality in an old bonsai that Mr. Suzuki is particularly fond of impressing on us. Still his excitement grew. “Michael! Michael!” he repeated, grinning at the tree and prancing around it, “Tachi! TACHI! There ARE no such trees, this is the very apex of bonsai, a true Major Leaguer! (36)

Natural deadwood is a vehicle for nature’s story. Carved deadwood, and to some degree the whole practice of bonsai, is our vehicle.

Here are a few photos of pine deadwood found along the Mt. Whitney trail.

Limber pine deadwood

Lodgepole pine deadwood

Lodgepole pine deadwood

Lodgepole pine deadwood

The specimen below was the largest, grandest and oldest-looking Foxtail I found. The photo, unfortunately, doesn’t do it justice. Although the tree isn’t very tall (maybe 15-25′) the base was over 8 feet in diameter creating “fast taper” more often seen in bonsai than in the typical forest specimen. Very thin lifelines keep this tree alive. It could be anywhere from 1,000 to 2,000 years old or more.

Ancient Foxtail pine

Another isolated tree – the highest specimen I spotted along the trail – had a crook to it and deadwood along the uphill side of the trunk and branches, likely from the wind, snow and rock that comes barreling down the mountain in inclement weather.

Lonely Foxtail pine at timberline

The deadwood on Foxtail is very attractive, ranging in color from pale yellow or white to black, when the wood is damaged by fire, with plenty of natural oranges and browns in between.

Dead apex above scrappy foliage

Further down the mountain the Foxtail grew straighter and taller – and seemingly straight out of the granite. These were some of the most attractive pine groves I’ve seen.

Foxtail pine grove

The foliage on foxtail pines is very similar to Bristlecone pine foliage. Needles grow in tight bundles of five.

Foxtail pine foliage

It’s also easy to spot from a distance. Seen below next to a Limber pine, the Foxtail growth is very compact with short, straight needles growing all the way back to the trunk. And like the Bristlecone pine, the Foxtail produces pointy purple cones that point downward from the ends of branches.

Limber pine and Foxtail pine

If you’re interested in visiting these trees, walk five or six miles up the Mt. Whitney Trail from Whitney Portal. You’ll spot the Foxtail along with some Limber pines right at treeline. They’re not hard to miss – the photos above were shot from the trail.

Shimpaku

This shimpaku is young and has only one branch – but what fun design potential! Fortunately these smaller junipers are easy to grow from cutting. And although they don’t all come out like this, limited trial and error can produce some pretty good starts.

The first name that comes to mind when I think of young shimpaku is Jim Gremel. Jim has been growing shimpaku for a long time and produces some of the best that I know about.

Tosho – needle juniper

This tosho is another story altogether. After a recent haircut the tree now has two main branches, but I’ll repeat – what great potential! In just a few years this will become a great tree. I don’t know if I’d be brave enough to cut so boldly, but I’d truly love the opportunity to work on material like this. Despite, perhaps, the legendary cuts that accompany tosho work.

Are there any outstanding tosho in the US? It would be fun to see them if there are.