Dissing Cookie Cutter Trees

'Tis the season for fall tree planting. The question is: Are you going to choose the right species for your landscape? Or are you going to let your local big-box store choose for you?

Because really...nothing says "boring" like a cookie-cutter tree—one of those ubiquitous species sold at big-box nursery outlets. Often found plunked down in the front yards of new housing developments, or planted in rows along driveways and streetsides, the widespread popularity of cookie-cutter trees can be attributed to one primary factor: they're cheap.

And let's face it: a cheap price is always such a temptation for impulse buyers. Especially when planting season is in the air, generating a powerful urge to make one's mark on the landscape.

But where extreme-weather events are concerned, if ever there was proof of the phrase, "you get what you pay for," cookie-cutter trees are it. Bradford pear trees are a prime example of a readily available, econo-priced plant that is almost always the first to be damaged or destroyed when extreme weather strikes.

That is not what I'm looking for in a landscape specimen that should be adding value to my property.

Okay...let me qualify all that. For many years, the downtown business district of my town was lined with Bradford pear trees. Overlooking the fact that you couldn't see the storefronts or signs through the dense lollipop crowns, the trees formed a glorious avenue of blossoms for a couple of weeks each spring. What a pleasure it was to walk or drive down the street amid a shower of snow-white petals.

But let's return to those crucial words highlight above: for many years. You notice I didn't say for many decades, or for generations. Those downtown trees are all gone now—and I can easily recall when they were planted. Cheap trees tend to have short natural lifespans, even without being damaged by extreme-weather events or other stressors. Though they sometimes live on well past an age when they should have been removed and replaced, it's usually in an increasingly ramshackle condition as property owners attempt to stave off the inevitable.

So when I'm shopping for a new addition to my landscape's tree or shrub population, I opt for long-lived  species from lists provided by my county's cooperative extension office. These plants are best suited to my local climate and soil, which means they're more tolerant of the weather extremes that they're likely to encounter in my yard.

What's more, I rather fancy the idea of a tree that will outlive me, and go on doing its part to enrich my community's greater urban forest for many generations to come.

Today, I'm happy to say that I don't have a cookie-cutter tree on my property. I did have them in the past...but that's another story for later.

Since You Asked...Dean Hill

For the inaugural Q&A, I thought it appropriate to chat with the co-author of Weatherproofing Your Landscape...the book. Emmy-nominated landscape architect Dean Hill is co-host of the popular DIY Network program, Grounds For Development.

(You just never know where Dean will pop up next! Catch him on the Rachael Ray show next Monday, September 26th. Check your local listings for the time. And keep up with Dean on Twitter @greendeantv.)

Q. Dean, as far as extreme-weather events are concerned, what are the advantages of using trees and shrubs that are native to a local area?


A. One of the biggest advantages is that native plants can be genetically and historically adaptable to extreme weather events. For example, there are oak trees that survive and thrive after being involved in a fire event, and there are bald cypress trees that thrive in flooded, low areas.


The most important consideration is to find out what plants are native in your area, ecoregion and/or ecological community. (Plants adapt to specific areas,  known as ecoregions or ecological communities. That’s logical—plants that like water are going to grow where there is water, and plants that like dry are going to grow where it is dry! All of the plants that grow together in these specific areas form a community. These communities are where you can get ideas for your plantings.)


And always remember to put the right plant in the right place!  Don’t take a plant that grows in the wet and expect it to grow in a dry area.  Look around at natural areas where you live and emulate nature.     

Welcome to the Friday question-and-answer feature. Feel free to leave your own questions related to weatherproofing your landscape—or recovering your landscape from an extreme-weather disaster—in the "comments" section on any Weatherproofing Your Landscape posting.

Q. How difficult is it to convert a conventional landscape to native?

A. Conversion is not difficult. The best part is that it can be exactly the same as designing for a “conventional” landscape. Natives lend themselves to easy incorporation into mixed planting beds, perennial beds and even shady, woodland plantings!


As an added bonus, native plants that are incorporated into shady, woodland settings are less likely to be eaten by browsing deer that can be an extreme, ongoing problem.

Q. Can the conversion to a native landscape take place in stages, over several years?

A. The conversion can easily take place in stages. For do-it-yourselfers, if you have limited or no experience with native plants, start small! 


Do some online research. Choose a couple of attractive native perennials that you like, and plant them in a favorite bed. Keep expanding your knowledge and your plant palette.


Make sure to look for state native-plant organizations and associations. Some of these advocate groups—of  which you don’t have to be a professional to be a member—have annual sales of native plants that come with no-cost expert advice.


I have found native plants to be infectious...almost obsessive. Any time I travel to a new place or design in a new area, the first thing that I look for is information on the native plants of the area. This gives me insight into the local context, and also helps me understand why this place is unique and different from the next place!

Killer Mulch

Lately, I've been amazed and disheartened to notice how many trees die of mulch. That's right: mulch.

With extreme-weather events growing more and more prevalent, landscape trees and shrubs must contend with hurricanes, tornadoes, ice storms, droughts, wildfires, flooding, lightning...sometimes it's like a war zone out there.

But since mulch has become a decorative addition to many landscapes, surpassing its purely functional purpose of the past, what should be a benefit to plants is increasingly becoming an outright killer. The problem is with "coning"—piling mulch in a deep cone shape against the trunk.

You've seen this practice for years in shopping-mall landscapes. Now it's becoming a common sight in residential landscapes.

Coning puts a plant at risk in three ways. First, piling mulch around the trunk can cause trunk rot. Second, mulch that is piled deeper than four inches can suffocate roots, especially those of young transplants. And third, new roots can grow directly into these mulch cones—then, because mulch dries faster than soil, those roots are quick to die during drought conditions.

To prevent this from occurring, keep mulch at least a foot away from the trunk, and limit it to four inches deep. Use light materials, such as cedar mulch, to promote air circulation (yes, roots do "breathe"). And pull mulch materials back altogether during persistent wet spells.

Landscape plants are threatened enough by extreme-weather events. It's downright painful to think of them dying because of what was intended as an act of kindness.

A Burning Question

This summer, I planted a new crape myrtle inside a walled, sun-blasted courtyard. With little root system to sustain it, the young shrub wilted badly under temperatures that reached 100F to 110F degrees in the shade day after day. Tender leaves began to go brittle.

With unrelenting, record-setting heat for three months running, this summer has been especially brutal to even established landscape plants. I've seen outer leaves on the crowns of mature Japanese maple trees fried to a crisp. And then there are the sunscorched evergreen hedges grown next to reflective surfaces.

A wall—or even a parked vehicle—exposed to direct summer  sunlight can turn that area into a broiler. Any plant grown in close proximity to reflective surfaces during periods of extreme heat is in danger of scorching. For low-growing plants, there is a short-term remedy.

Once I began tossing a sheet over my crape myrtle during the heat of the day, it perked up and made it through the summer in good shape. Low-growing hedges can benefit from the same protection. (Plants growing near reflective surfaces need more water, but watering won't prevent sunscorch.)

Unfortunately, there isn't much you can do about a large tree that is suffering sunscorch, other than make a better choice of species the next time. Most trees that suffer burned foliage during extreme heatwaves are either too tender for such extremes—or are understory species, adapted to filtered sunlight, that were planted out in full sun.

As summer draws to a close, it's time to take stock. If sunscorched  twigs are brittle, they've died and need to be pruned away. If the twigs remain flexible, wait until spring to see if they sprout new foliage. If the same problem occurs summer after summer, the long-term remedy is to remove the plant and replace it with a more heat-tolerant species.

As for my crape myrtle, I expect the fast-growing crown to be above the top of the courtyard wall by next summer, safely out of range of the reflected heat.

Lifesaving Gray Water

It happens every time we have water rationing: Homeowners appear on the local news, bewailing the fact that their shrubs are dying in the drought. Every time that happens, I can't help shaking my head. Because in most cases, that didn't have to happen.

We've developed into a use-it-and-throw-it-away society. And that goes for the water that comes out of our taps. Right now, for those in the Southern Plains who are locked into exceptional drought conditions, letting precious water simply pour down the drain is a luxury that can be ill afforded.

                                      National Oceanic & Atmospheric Administration/
                                                               Department of Commerce

Each day, we let enough tap water slip through our hands (often literally) to keep at least some of our landscape plants alive during dry spells. Shrubs and new transplants—both trees and shrubs—in particular can subsist on regular doses of gray water alone.

Two years ago, I tested that. In one calendar year, I placed a bucket in the kitchen sink to collect water. (If you use "green" dish soap, you can use rinse water and dip water from the wash sink.) I also dipped water from baths and showers. From a two-person household that is notoriously stingy with natural resources anyway, I was able to contribute more than 4,000 gallons of water to my landscape plants.

But during serious dry spells, you need a strategy to get the most out of this "extra" water resource.

• Concentrate on watering shrubs and new transplants. (Mature trees and large hedges require far more water than you can provide with buckets of gray water.)

• Pour each bucketful of water in one place, rather than splashing it around. (You want the water to soak into the soil as deeply as possible to reach feeder roots.) Then pour the next bucketful next to that until you've worked all the way around the plant.

• Concentrate on soaking the ground out to the drip line beneath each plant, beginning a foot from the trunk.

• Water all the way around each plant before moving on to the next. (Obviously, you'll need to prioritize, watering the most valuable and the neediest plants first.)

One caveat: If you're thinking of hooking up your washing machine so it can water your trees, be aware that this isn't allowed in most municipalities. Check with your community's code-enforcement office. If you are permitted to pipe gray water directly, be sure not to empty hot water into the landscape; use only "green" detergents; and preferably empty laundry water into a vat or barrel where it can be diluted with clean water before final release into the landscape. And...and...monitor moisture levels closely, being careful not to drown plants.

For more on life-saving gray water, check out: http://greywateraction.org/greywater-recycling

To Feed, Or Not To Feed, That Is The Question

Your tree has stood in flood waters for weeks, or suffered through a long, brutal drought. Or major limbs were lost in a storm. Or maybe the poor thing was partially tipped over by high winds, and you've had to straighten it up and brace it. Whatever the insult, the tree now looks some the worse for wear, and you're anxious to make it healthy again.

So out comes the bag of fertilizer and...

DON'T! Just don't.

If there is one thing you should not do "for" a damaged tree, it's fertilize it. (The exception: if your soil is deficient in nutrients—and that has been confirmed by a soil test. Even then, only the deficient nutrients should be applied.)

I inadvertently broke that rule several years ago, after our beautiful pin oak was severely damaged by an ice storm. Come spring, I spread organic fertilizer on the grass, remembering too late that I needed to keep it well away from the tree's expansive root system. Sure enough, the injured tree put on a spectacular spurt of growth that year—which was not good.

When a tree is damaged—especially when it suffers root loss—it needs to pour everything it has into healing wounds and regenerating feeder and anchor roots. It cannot do that when its energy is being diverted into growing lush new leaves and branches.

Initially, fertilizer might give you what you want: a landscape specimen with a lush, green crown. From all appearances, your tree will have made a miraculous recovery.

But if the flush of new growth pushes the tree past its capacity to sustain, and the healing process stalls, your prized specimen could become even more susceptible to attack by diseases or pests. This year's miracle recovery can turn into next year's sudden decline.

In the case of our pin oak, we were lucky. The tree managed to heal its many wounds over the next few years despite the dose of fertilizer. But that healing would undoubtedly have progressed much faster if the oak hadn't been forced to support an unnecessarily luxuriant crown.

So what can you do for a damaged tree once any needed pruning repairs have been made? Of course, the tree will need a steady supply of soil moisture, especially inside its drip line. And if the specimen is particularly valuable to your landscape, you might consult a certified arborist as to whether it would be advisable to have it treated with growth retardant. (See Surviving Dead Roots, posted on 9/9/11.) This will keep crown growth minimal during the healing period, while enhancing root growth.

Other than that, one of the best things you can give your recuperating tree is time...time to catch its breath and heal.

Lessons From New Orleans

In 2005, the world watched in horror as flood waters inundated much of New Orleans, Louisiana. Earlier this year, a massive tornado swept away a large part of Joplin, Missouri. This month, wildfires of epic proportions have charred large swaths of Texas. The costs in precious lives and property from these and other recent natural disasters have been devastating.

But for most people, disasters are usually "over there," soon to be forgotten as the next big event hits the news. It is the individual loss that kicks you in the gut and breaks your heart.

I learned this several years ago when I experienced my first real disaster, in the form a catastrophic and deadly storm that left several states locked in a sheet of ice. The sheer tonnage of frozen stuff killed or damaged tens of thousands of trees and shrubs in my community alone, destroying 20 percent of the urban canopy. Trees fell through roofs, uprooted buried utilities, and blocked entire streets. Some parts of town were without power for weeks in bitterly cold temperatures.

But it was huge limbs that crashed down on my roof hour after hour—snapping tree trunks that boomed like cannon shots in my front yard—and power that no longer drove my furnace, that made me truly grasp the deep emotional toll that a disaster can exact. Even after all the debris had been cleared away and the damage repaired, I was left with a case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

As New Orleans and Joplin and Texas know, there are wounds to the soul that cannot be healed with bricks and mortar. Certainly, we can never replace lost lives. And though we often can replace lost or damaged homes and businesses,  man-made structures cannot restore that vital element that we so often take for granted until it's gone: the visual tapestry and environmental anchor of our community's urban forest.

Aware of the importance of trees to both the environment of the city and the psyche of its population, New Orleans—still on its knees after the flooding from Hurricane Katrina—set out to test the restorative powers of re-greening.

With 75 percent of the city's famous trees drowned, Parkway Partners' executive director, Jean Fahr, began recruiting local citizens to supplement municipal crews in an ambitious replanting campaign. Once tree-lined Elysian Fields Avenue alone received more than 200 magnolias and oaks. Six thousand more trees soon went into surrounding neighborhoods, and the long-term planting program continues.

The response to this re-greening effort was amazing among citizens still grieving the loss of lives, property, and seemingly a way of life. The planting of new trees was akin to raising a flag on a ravaged battlefield. Passing drivers honked as workers dropped root balls into holes along Elysian Fields Avenue. One morning, a businessman in office attire on his way to work (see white shirt below) stopped to lend a hand. The spirit and pride of the city was returning one green tree at a time.

                                                                          Parkway Partners

Trees—green, living trees that cast shade and fill the air with birdsong—help us to reroot our own lives. And as they grow and prosper and once again fill out the scenery of our lives, we too heal.

New Orleans learned that. So can we all.