Plant Native Trees Now

 

Or tomorrow; or next week; or next month. Late fall is the best time to plant trees in Georgia, and some areas of Georgia can plant in winter. Georgia’s Arbor Day is in February, proof that it is a good time (not April when it is getting too warm already to establish trees). Tree and shrub roots get their best start during our cool and wet winter season.

A collection of oaks with one pine

As more development advances, native trees are the biggest loss. Even the ragged edge of sweetgums, tuliptrees, pines, and maples found on vacant lots and roadsides are serving the native ecosystem while they remain. All too often those trees fall to parking lots replanted with exotic plants like crape myrtles, Chinese pistache, and loropetalums. Some older parking areas were landscaped with red maples, many of which are still colorful this week. Newer parking lots are not using them as much.

You can make a difference by planting native trees in your landscape and recommending that areas near you do too. Several of my previous blogs help explain why and give links to many of my native tree posts over the years:

A Native Tree is Not Just a Tree – it’s an ecosystem.

Get a Tree That Does More – ideas for trees by category (spring flowers, fall color, underused trees, small trees).

A Celebration of Trees – links to most of my tree posts, including evergreen ideas.

So get out there and make plans to add more native trees to your landscape. Replace an exotic tree like crape myrtle if you need to make room; I think Serviceberry makes a great replacement! It doesn’t have to be a big tree; science has proven that smaller trees recover from the transplant sooner and grow to equal a bigger tree in just a few years.

Serviceberry in spring, summer, and fall

November 2024 Moment in Nature

A late-blooming native flower is always welcome, even if we had to bring it up here from the Coastal Plain. Climbing aster (Ampelaster carolinianus) is native of swamps, thickets, marshes, streambanks, freshwater tidal marshes and swamps - mostly in Florida but perhaps also in one south Georgia county (Chatham County).

Ampelaster carolinianus

It is sold in Georgia, even up to my area of the Piedmont, where it is a rambling, late-blooming woody plant (sometimes called a shrub, sometimes called a vine). I have one in my garden where it scrambles through a wooden fence in search of protection from the deer.

Seek out and enjoy your #momentinnature as often as you can.

Fight for Conservation

 

Georgia aster (Symphyotrichum georgianum S3)

Once nature is no longer protected, it is hard or – in some cases – impossible to get back. As environmental stewards process where we are at this moment in America, it’s time to double down. Vital lands and resources are once again at risk, and it’s up to us to protect them. For a preview of the kinds of changes waiting ahead, the folks at Alt National Park shared this impact list compiled from 4 years ago.

Seek out the causes that are important to you: local lands, state & national parks, tribal lands, ocean health, endangered organisms. Join groups that monitor environmental issues so that you have enough notice to take action when needed. In addition to the ones mentioned in the linked article (Earthjustice, Center for Biological Diversity, Sierra Club, National Resources Defense Council), I would also mention Southern Environmental Law Center and The Nature Conservancy.

Donate your time, your talents, and money if you are able. As always, convince others that these issues are important. Remember, there is no Planet B and birds, insects, and animals have only us to speak for them. Let’s get busy.

This is How a Robin Drinks (the book)

 

The author of this new book is absolutely a kindred spirit for me. This is a collection of urban nature essays that remind you that nature is right outside our door. I first heard of Jo Brichetto’s Sidewalk Nature blog from my friend Gail in Nashville, TN. Subtitled “Everyday wonders in everyday habitat loss,” my own experiences in Georgia can validate what she is experiencing just 4 hours north of me.

The stories of her exploring nature at baseball fields while her child played (I mean, you might as well, right?); shouting out findings to anyone with her (“Coopers hawk!”); getting excited that someone was taking a picture of a hackberry (“That man sees that tree!”); all of these are my same types of ups and downs (he didn’t see that tree after all) that come with living in urban nature.

This collection of essays is grouped by season but they are perfect for anytime. If you’re a Southerner, you’ll enjoy her easy conversational style, sprinkled with the expressions we all grew up with (and if not, you’ll be amused by them at least). Most importantly, these are stories of someone living with nature every day: in every walk and car ride; with every sound, smell, and wayward leaf; and sharing it as much as possible with those who will listen … and learn.

In the catalpa story in the spring section, we discover someone did listen (and those rewards keep us all going). I’ll let you read about that yourself but leave you with her delightful description of the flowers: 

“Catalpa blooms such blooms. Big, frilly, and so exotic I’d never buy them if they were in a flower shop, which they aren’t, and if I bought cut flowers, which I don’t. They look like some made-up tropical thing on a sunscreen bottle, but catalpa is a native tree. They are as Nashville as Osage orange or black locust, and nearly as redneck as a hackberry.”

Catalpa speciosa