fallen tree

I have begun to investigate the ash tree that collapsed next to the wildlife pond in the meadow this summer.  It hadn't been looking very happy for a long time, with sparse foliage, and if it had been next to a footpath or road I'd have been worried about it.  Now that the leaves are off I can see that the whole tree hasn't toppled as I thought, but a big limb has torn away.  It's still attached to the trunk by a strip of bark and wood, and propping itself on the ground.  Perhaps, if we leave that part, it will root where it's touching, and regenerate.  On the other hand, it wasn't looking too bright before, and ash dieback is bound find its way here within the next few years.

The bits of tree that have crashed out over the meadow need clearing.  As I began to lop long, looping twigs off the crown so that I could get at the larger branches, I discovered the mangled remains of a Cornus mas.  This is a pleasant tree, that bears yellow flowers in late winter, and small red fruits that are in theory edible, though I've never met anybody who bothered to collect enough to cook with.  The stem of mine is now split, twisted and bent double a couple of feet above the ground.  I am hopeful, though, that if I clear away the remains and prune it to a clean cut, it will shoot again and grow away quite nicely.  The roots are intact, it's not a grafted plant, and still young.  Shrubs that have suffered the accidental loss of their top growth can regenerate surprisingly quickly, when the energy of their entire root system is suddenly directed into a drastically reduced set of branches.  Of course it might simply take umbrage and die.

Several small box plants are badly squashed, but I have a nasty feeling that the worst of the damage was done by my treading on them when I first went in, before I'd cleared some of the mess and could start to see what I was doing.  A bargain evergreen that had become so tired and pot-bound at the plant centre that it was destined for the bonfire, and regenerated unexpectedly well when released into the soil, has been bent flat.  Until I've finished clearing branches off it and can stand it upright and assess the damage to its base I'm not too sure how that will fare, but it must have been flattened for weeks and the foliage still looks healthy, so it will probably be fine if I stake it. I haven't yet got in far enough to discover how the Heptacodium jasminoides has fared, but since it's a fast grower I expect it too will regenerate.  Beyond that I'm struggling to remember what else ought to be in there.  Did I plant an exotic Chinese privet, or just think about it?  It's a rather peripheral piece of garden, and until a tree fell on it I was hoping the shrubs would meet up to make continuous cover and I wouldn't have to do much.

The brambles are reaching back over the fence.  They sent their long, prickly arms waving, which causes whoever is mowing the grass to avoid trying to cut right into the fence.  The brambles seize their chance, rooting where their branch tips touch.  The lawnmower steers a path round the new bramble plant, and so they advance.  I'm chopping the stems down to a foot, trying very hard to concentrate and not poke myself in the eye on a cut stem, and will go along with the pickaxe at some stage and get the roots out.  I've found two bird nests so far, which goes to show that we're right to hold off bramble bashing in the spring and summer.  It's a race against time now, to chop as many as possible before next March.

Even the smallest twigs of ash are the thickness of my fingers.  It's a chunky plant, not like birch or even oak and chestnut.  The twigs will go through the shredder to make wood chip mulch for round the compost bins, while anything thicker than an inch will go on the stove.  None will be wasted. The brambles are bound for the bonfire.  I already had a trailer full after one morning's work, and there's going to be a lot more than that.