Tag Archives: rescuing fallen trees

Down but not out

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When the Magnolia sargentiana var. robusta fell over in July 2023, we were a bit sad. Not distressed or devastated, you understand, but disappointed. It is always sad to see a big tree fall, especially when their demise is unexpected. At its best, M. sargentiana var, robusta was as pretty a sight as you could wish for in a magnolia.

Sargentiana var robusta in a good flowering year, before it fell.
The colour can vary from appearing pink all over to white flushed pink.

I say at its best because our tree was a bit biennial. It only wanted to flower in profusion every second year with a rather weak attempt in its off years. Its flowers are also anything but robust being very light in texture – sometimes likened to paper tissue. The are good reasons why both Felix and Mark bred magnolias with heavy textured petals; in our climate with rain that is often torrential in spring and strong equinoctial winds, light textured blooms do not fare well. A single storm can take out the whole display.

The sad sight in July 2023
We left it untouched and it flowered again a year later in 20024

This tree was imported by Mark’s dad, Felix, sourced from the famous Hilliers Nursery in the UK, back when plants were easily moved around the world, with few, if any, restrictions. It was in the 1950s when Felix was first planting up the park so this specimen would be around 70 to 75 years old. It will have had wet feet, as we say about plants in sodden ground, because it was planted down by our stream.

So, fall it did in 2023.  It is a big tree but fell alongside the path and stream without impeding access, the root ball half in and half out of the ground. We made the decision to leave it and see what happened. I looked at it this week. There was one chunky branch low down that was coming out at right angles from the main trunk. When it fell, that branch then found itself upright. It clearly preferred this position of dominance because it has grown quite a bit and is forming a tidy new canopy.

The lump in the foreground is the root ball – disturbed but still anchored. The vertical trunk to the left is the branch that we will now save, cutting off the main lengths to the right.
That is the new upright on the right of the photo. But really, I took this to also show the prodigious quantity of astelia epiphytes that establish on our older trees – signalling a climate that is both mild and with adequate rainfall all year round. The seed is spread by birds.

We are now at a point where we think it will be fine to cut the rest off and just leave the upright section which is close to the roots. We won’t be doing anything about the big, chunky mound of roots. They can just stay – a bit of natural contour.

It is pleasing to realise we can keep the tree. M. sargentiana var. robusta is not the sort of magnolia most people would decide they simply must have. Nor is it suited to small gardens. But it belongs in magnolia collections and the tree is part of our own garden history.

Magnolia ‘Mark Jury’, believed to be a chance seedling with M. sargentiana robusta

Besides that, the species itself – though not this particular tree in our park – is thought to be one of the parents of the beautiful tree Felix received from Hilliers that was meant to be ‘Lanarth’ but wasn’t and he named after his youngest son, so Magnolia ‘Mark Jury’. That tree, also still in our park, turned out to be Felix’s special plant – his secret weapon, Mark says – which he used in the parentage of six of the eight magnolias of his that were released commercially. In turn, some of Mark’s hybrids also descend from those. The rest, as they say, is history.

Back from a near death experience – an obscure fig

 

Very curious fruit on Ficus antiarus

The most asked about plant in our garden was Ficus antiarus. I say was because the small tree became collateral damage when a massive pine tree fell over last April. We feared for its long-term survival as all that remained in the ground were some of the longest roots.

Brought down by an enormous falling pine last April. That is the root system, uprooted. 

It took a couple of weeks to clear the area sufficiently to have room to move and then Mark and Lloyd levered up what remained and installed a prop to hold it more or less upright. Mark took a chainsaw to it to remove most of the canopy and the broken branches. He pruned to keep the shape while reducing the stress on the tree by reducing the smaller branches and much of the foliage. Too much leafy growth would mean increased loss of moisture and we hoped it would put its energy into re-establishing the root system over winter. We crossed our fingers.

levered more or less upright, pruned by chainsaw and propped in place last April

Behold the fresh leafy growth now. It is a sight to behold. It set no fruit this year but we didn’t expect it to after such a shock. It appears that it will live on for another few decades. I asked Mark how long the prop would need to remain in place and all he said was that he had no idea so I guess he hasn’t thought about that yet.

Ten months later and we are delighted by all the fresh growth

Mark’s father Felix brought Ficus antiarus back from his one and only intrepid plant-hunting trip – to the highlands of New Guinea in 1957. He thought that in the cooler temperatures of the areas with altitude that he might find interesting plants that would survive back here. He didn’t bring a big haul back but the ficus, Schefflera septulosa and Vireya rhododendron macgregoriae have all stood the test of time.

The ficus has mid to dark green leaves with an interesting rasping texture – not unlike green sandpaper. It is evergreen, unlike most eating figs. What is most remarkable about it is the generous set of tiny figs growing out of bare wood. They start out cream, ageing through orange to red. Birds don’t strip the tree so the fruit must not be very inviting to them. I have nibbled the odd red fruit and they have a faint figgy flavour but not enough to make them an addition to the diet. We just like it as a curiosity at the end of the Avenue Garden.

Before it was knocked down – we are now optimistic it will return to this state.