The amazing, multiplying dogwood
A visit to the wildflowers in upper Bidwell Park, or maybe even Table Mountain remains on my spring todo list. However, there’s plenty to see in our back yards.
During spring break from teaching, I finally had time to look outside my front door, and the world is filled with color.
I grow veggies in a black plastic truck bed liner. There are so many poppies in and around that functional yet ugly container that I don’t mind stomping on flowers when I water my kale.
LaDonna called this week because she had a little room left in her green waste can. I’ve had my Dad’s convertible for a few weeks, and I’ll use any excuse to put the top down and drive a few miles across town, lawn garbage in tow. When I pulled up to her driveway, I noticed she had poppies growing in the cracks of the pavement.
The big, green field alongside Sierra Nevada Brewery has poppies as well, as do the cracks in my own alley.
But wait, there’s more. The lilac, freesia, daisies, geranium, the pink jasmine along my fence, Virginia creeper.
On the way to LaDona’s I noticed the dogwood.
Last year, the pandemic was brand new. My job at the college shut down due to the COVID-19 pandemic, and suddenly I had nothing but time and nowhere to go.
LaDonna and I began walking several times a week and could not help but notice the dogwood trees.
I’m convinced that if you plant one dogwood tree, you start a trend for the whole neighborhood. Birds help and suddenly volunteer dogwoods are scattered for blocks north and south.
The same thing has happened in the neighborhood south of East Park Avenue, where my friend Mark Carlson has more dogwood trees than he has bothered to count.
Similar to almonds and tulip magnolias, dogwood flowers bloom before the leaves emerge. This means the flowers stand out.
The dogwoods reminded me that I owed Mark and his wife Linda a visit, which gave me an excuse to fire up my muscle car.
Mark planted his trees in 1987, and you can spot dogwoods on nearly every block leading to his house. The flowers are stunning from a distance, filling the sky with color that sways from the relatively thin branches.
Yet, it’s up close that they really become amazing. Tiny clusters of green circles fill the center, like green caviar. The petals are sturdy, but not quite waxy, and long-lasting.
In the fall, dogwood trees give a grand finale, with a splash of color before the leaves fall.
For some reason, dogwoods reseed easily, yet the small trees have a high rate of failure when transplanted. I know, because Mark has tried to give me at least three trees in one-gallon buckets and there are zero dogwoods growing in my yard.
As I sat in the spring sunshine in the Carlson’s backyard, I noticed anew that the couple grows peonies in the shade of the dogwoods. The peony flowers survived even after I killed the gifted dogwoods. In fact, some peonies are currently blooming in the semi-shade at the side of my house.
Who needs upper park or even Table Mountain? The view from a friend’s back patio is pretty darn amazing right now.
I’m convinced that if you plant one dogwood tree, you start a trend for the whole neighborhood. Birds help and suddenly volunteer dogwoods are scattered for blocks north and south.