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Let us find, and protect, our wild elms of nature.
Aloft they fluttered. Parchment-thin, the countless tiny discs wafted in the breeze. Gently they settled in tiny heaps, on the earth, on the grass, upon the rows of chairs. I brushed them off my chair, and then sat down. I was sitting on Yale’s Old Campus in New Haven — the Elm City — in the shade of a lofty American elm. After a moment or two of admiring the elm, I realized that the papery discs all around me were samaras — the winged seeds of the American elm. Hmm … I thought. Might I plant a seed and grow an elm back on the Island? Hopeful, I gathered a handful of samaras, and stashed them in my suit pocket.
I love Ulmus americana, the American elm. Who does not love elms? I love their graceful, arching form. I love sitting in their shade and reading Moby Dick on a summer afternoon. I love the old survivors, defying Dutch elm disease. There’s a large American elm that graces the Village Green in Edgartown (a Preservation Trust park tucked between Main Street and North Water Street). There’s another, truly massive elm that shades a stretch of Summer Street a couple of blocks away. And I wish that I had seen Music Street in its elm-shaded, sylvan glory, before Dutch elm disease killed so many of these magnificent trees.
On returning from New Haven, I promptly forgot about the samaras in my pocket. Yet the following Sunday, I came across the most hopeful article in the Boston Globe. The piece described the work of The Nature Conservancy and the U.S. Forest Service in Vermont to breed a strain of disease-resistant American elms. The piece reminded me of the seeds that I had collected. I took the suit from my closet, emptied the pockets, but found only one samara. Hopeful nonetheless, I filled a paper cup with soil, set the cup on my porch, and planted the seed.
Are elms native to Martha’s Vineyard? The 2008 version of the Flora of Martha’s Vineyard states that American elms are introduced. Some elms are indeed introduced, as the magnificent elms that grace those fortunate, select sites around the Island were planted in these locations. However, I believe that American elms are also native.
Elms, after all, are present in the Island’s pollen record. This demonstrates that, for many centuries, American elms grew beside our other familiar native vegetation, such as beetlebung and sassafras and oaks and hollies. Elsewhere in New England, one still finds American elms growing in their natural habitat. They grow upon flood plains. They shade riverbanks and the edges of creeks. They grow, unnoticed and untended, in ditches and on overlooked, unkempt edges of streets and yards. They persist, in spite of Dutch elm disease.
On the Island, I’ve walked through many a woodland, but I admit that I have not come across American elms growing naturally. Perhaps there were never many natural-growing elms to begin with. Perhaps Dutch elm disease killed those trees without an arborist to tend to them. Perhaps I just have not noticed the elms, or perhaps I did not venture deep enough into the riparian zones where I might more likely find them. Regardless, I still believe that elms are growing here as native trees. I will make a quest of finding them.
Who does not love elms? I love their graceful, arching form. I love sitting in their shade and reading Moby Dick on a summer afternoon.
In the meantime, I will try to plant them. In this effort, so far I have failed. It has been more than two weeks as I write this, and the New Haven samara that I planted in a paper cup full of earth has not germinated. I think that I should have planted it at once, instead of forgetting about it for a week and then only planting it after being reminded by the newspaper.
Last Sunday I tried again. I gathered up another handful of samaras that had been produced by the elm of the Village Green. These looked a little yellowed, though, and I feared that I probably had arrived a bit too late. It’s been five days now since planting, and I have seen no signs of germination. If I fail, I resolve to try again next year, but with a basket full of freshly-fallen samaras and plenty of potting soil.
In his masterpiece, A Natural History of North American Trees (available on Amazon and on Thriftbooks), Donald Culross Peattie writes, “If you want to be recalled for something that you do, you will be well advised to do it under an Elm — a great Elm, for such a tree outlives the generations of men; the burning issues of today are the ashes of tomorrow, but a noble Elm is a verity that does not change with time.”
Let us be recalled for what we do for our Island elms. Let us tend to our planted elms of stature. Let us find, and protect, our wild elms of nature. And let us hope for triumph over disease, so that a century from now, elms once again grace our Island woods and swamps and streets.
What You Can Do
- Tim Boland tells us that the West Tisbury Tree Committee has planted several American Elms around town; take a look!: 7a near the parking lot entrance and at Town Hall northeast near the road
- See Adam’s Field Note about planting a Chestnut orchard on MV
- If you want to help support the work of restoring the American elm, please contact Catherine Newman, Director of Philanthropy for The Nature Conservancy in Vermont: catherine.newman@tnc.org
