Southland
Robert Guyton’s ode to conifers.
Lately though, I’ve changed my mind about pines, larches, firs and cedars, after recognising their usefulness and beauty for purposes other than producing edible pip or stone fruits. For one thing, I’ve learned that some of the mushrooms I’ve come to desire grow only in combination with conifers: slippery jack with Pinus radiata, painted mountain Suillus with Douglas fir, and larch bolete with, well, larch, naturally.
In order to collect those mushrooms for the fry-pan, I’ve had to find the associated coniferous tree and in doing that, I’ve come to recognise their various good qualities: their majestic height, the range of needle size and form, their interesting barks and fascinating cones.
I’ve begun to fancy them and collect any seedlings I find underneath the mature, mushroom-providing parent- trees.
I know they’ll grow too big for my garden, but am planting them anyway, figuring
I can fell them just before they’re too big to process, and either turn them into firewood and enjoy their resinous fragrances as they warm my house, or leave them on the ground to feed the fungi that typically populate fallen logs.
I have noticed, however, that conifers that originally grew in Europe or America grow at a startling rate here, out-stripping our native cone-bearing kauri, mata and rimu by a serious margin. The stone pine I planted two decades ago at the bottom of my garden is a giant and if it wasn’t for the sloping nature of our land, would be blocking the sun now. So too the juniper planted five years ago that’s now waving its growing tip above older trees planted 10 years earlier. They clearly like it here, in the same way the wilding pines like the South Island high country.
The challenge those trees present to the tussocklands and high country stations is one the country struggles with, knowing both that traditional farming practices are under threat from the encroachment of the conifers at the same time that there is a need for widespread reforestation to ease the effects of climate change.
Cone-bearing trees have their place in New Zealand.
We already have many indigenous examples, not the least of which being the magnificent kauri, but there exists a growing aversion to some of the exotics, most especially Pinus radiata, planted en masse on what has been for 100 years or more, pasture.
The solution to the forests v farms puzzle is, to my mind, diversity. Plant as wide a range of trees as possible, mixed together, conifer and deciduous broadleafed trees, breaking the monoculture and making great habitat for birds and insects, fungi and reptiles.
The great villain of the peace, Pinus radiata, has found a place in my garden, much to my amazement. I’ve planted several gifted saplings amongst my fruit and nut trees, with Christmas in mind.
Every festive season, I feel the anguish of not having secured a traditional conifer for setting up in the lounge and draping with tinsel and decorating with baubles, so these quick-growing but readily available pines will ease that worry and provide me with a solution when the time comes around again.
Knowing the prosaic pines are only temporary in my garden allows me to enjoy them while they’re here.
They are pretty and smell wonderful, and I can’t help but admire the speed at which they seek the sky. They are great hosts for the red and white capped fly agaric mushroom, and bring a Siberian reindeerpeople atmosphere to this snow-free garden at the opposite pole that’s greatly appreciated by my grandchildren.
Lastly, I’ll sing the praises of cones, not just those of pines, such as are found, stuffed into fertiliser sacks at farm gates for $5 a bag, but those produced by larches and firs, cedars and the many other forms of conifer that are found in arboretums and parks throughout the country. Cones from some of these trees are so attractive they are given pride of place on mantlepieces or firesides in many homes in New Zealand, and those that aren’t so beautiful or novel, in the fire itself, where they blaze romantically – and briefly – through the winter nights. They make great fuel and are perfectly handle-able, especially for children, who also delight in making cones into owls and hedgehogs, if given the chance and some glue.
So, conifers, exotic and endemic – I like them, despite their sticky, trouser-ruining saps and lack of edible fruits.
There’s definitely a place for them here, I reckon, and there’s lots to be gained from having well-managed cone bearers in our landscape. ✤