by Zach Smith | Apr 19, 2015 | Care, Flowering, Hawthorn, Potting, Soil, Watering
Back on March 7th I posted a blog on my large hawthorn that needed repotting. You may recall the scarcity of roots on such a large tree four years after collection. Here’s what I had to work with:
Not much in the root zone, eh? Hawthorns are a bit peculiar in that they don’t necessarily root as vigorously as the top growth on the tree might suggest. This was is a classic example of the phenomenon. But regardless of how vigorously your tree roots, it’s always advisable to repot every second to fourth year (I don’t like going beyond three). This is because the soil tends to “wear out” with repeated watering and fertilizing, and it’s good to find out if anything is going on beneath the surface you need to know about.
When I repotted this tree I did something I’ve never done before: I placed a layer of pea gravel in the bottom of the pot to provide better drainage in that lowest strata of the root zone. As you probably already know, drainage in a container that is less deep than it is wide has physics stacked against it. Head pressure, or the force of the water pressing down in the pot, causes it to drain at a certain speed; the more head, the faster the drainage. As the container empties, the speed of drainage slows simply because the amount of water available to press down on what’s below is severely reduced. Drainage slows to a crawl as that last eighth to quarter-inch is all that’s left. What this means for a bonsai is, the roots in the very bottom of the pot tend to stay wet and fail to get enough oxygen. Root death occurs most readily in this zone, for this reason. So, by putting the pea gravel in this area my hope is to reduce the normal holdup you’d expect a standard bonsai soil to provide (which exacerbates the wetness by preventing drainage of that last bit of water). To be sure, I anticipate roots will grow down into the pea gravel layer; what’s unknown at this time is what condition they’ll be in when I pull the tree at its next repotting.
But here’s the point: look at the growth of this tree in six weeks! It appears the tree is very happy with its growing environment, as it’s sporting shoots a foot long.
The growth density was fairly consistent between the first (lowest) branch and those in the upper part of the tree. So my goal was to both lighten the density as well as do directional pruning. At this point in the tree’s life as a bonsai, my work is focused on building the secondary and tertiary branch structure. Given that it’s a larger tree, this does take more time since the primary branches need to be proportionately thicker than on a smaller tree in order to make them believable relative to the trunk thickness.
Here’s the result after pruning. The tree will continue to grow, which I’ll allow for another four or five weeks before doing any more trimming. Remember, don’t keep your trees “show ready” all the time, meaning don’t pinch every new shoot that appears and starts to extend. In order to encourage robust health, let your trees grow out unhindered for a time and then prune back relatively hard. Otherwise, the tree can weaken over time and become more susceptible to pests and diseases.
Finally, the lowest left branch is my thread-grafted branch, which I believe can be set on its own next year by cutting the supply branch on the right-hand side of the trunk. A close examination of the collar looked very promising. You may notice that its growth density is not quite up to par with the other branches. This is simply due to the limited moisture and nutrient supply through the sapwood caused by the restriction on the supply branch, still connected, and the fact that the new supply through the left hand side of the trunk into the new layers of sapwood on that side has not yet caught up. So my strategy is simply to let the thread-grafted branch run wild, to build more supply and layers of sapwood.
All comments are welcome. Let me know what you think.
by Zach Smith | Apr 3, 2015 | Care, Oaks, Potting, Soil, ZPC
You may remember this Willow oak, Quercus phellos, from past posts. I collected it in Winter 2011, and it responded very well to its new home. After just four years, it had put on branches of decent thickness and more importantly produced a nice new apex that I let run in order to continue the smooth tapering of the trunk.
Last year I thought I had lost the tree in the brutal winter of 2014, but it surprised (and pleased) me when it came out very late and grew as strong as always. By rights, last year the tree should have either been repotted in a nursery container or into its first bonsai pot. But the late budburst took me past the ideal potting season and so I left it alone.
I couldn’t let it go past this year without working the root zone. I happened to have a nice Byron Myrick oval that previously held a water-elm (victim of Winter 2014), so I figured there was no reason not to make a real bonsai out of this fine tree.
I cut the tree back during winter. The tapering transition in the apex is fine; the lower branches needing chasing back. But how did the roots look?
Full up, I’d say. I wasn’t too surprised to see the mass of roots that had completely filled the nursery pot. What’s more, they were extremely dense at the soil surface. But that’s what a good root hook is for. With a little elbow grease, I had everything teased out and trimmed in about 15 minutes. Better than that, I got a chance to see the surface rootage I’d buried all those years ago.
Now that’s a nice mass of roots! And check out the flaring at the base.
Perhaps the most difficult part of growing bonsai is we don’t have any way to directly gauge what’s happening underground from day to day. It’s easy to see wilting leaves or fungal spots. It’s easy to see most pests. But underground is the great unknown. So we prepare our soil using time-tested principles, and ensure the soil remains properly moist.
Time to pot the tree. As I’d done with my large hawthorn a few weeks ago, I put a layer of pea gravel in the bottom of the pot for drainage, then a layer of horticultural charcoal on top of that, then in went the tree with my standard screened bonsai mix.
You may be thinking the new apex is too long, and you’re right. I need to shorten it by about half to continue the tapering process; but I plan to work it back slowly to ensure against dieback.
As you might have guessed, this is the nicest willow oak bonsai I’ve ever owned.
Finally, here’s a close-up of the nebari. I usually forget how the surface rootage looks on any tree I collect after time has passed. So it’s always nice to see a good set of roots re-emerge. And what character!
This tree has a 4″ trunk base above the root crown and is 12″ to the original chop. The finished height will be about 16″. I anticipate it’ll take another four or five years to bring this specimen to show-able condition.
I seldom run across larger willow oaks to collect, but I am growing a few specimens in the ground (along with live oaks and water oaks). I hope to have some pre-bonsai material available in two or three years.
by Zach Smith | Mar 16, 2015 | Care, Elms, Potting, Water Elm, Watering, Wiring
As many of you know, in the winter of 2014 I lost a number of trees including most of my specimen water-elms. Of the water-elms that were on benches during the snow/ice storm and 15 F deep-freeze for a couple of days after, exactly four survived – but in the case of two of them, barely.
Here’s one of them, in a photo taken in September of 2010, two months after it was collected. I direct-potted this raft into a vintage Richard Robertson tray and let it recover from collecting. During the next three years I worked to refine the planting. Then came 2014, brutal cold, and I initially thought the tree was dead. I left it along, and finally in late April I saw some hopeful buds. But there was nothing to do at that point except water the tree and wait to see what was going to happen.
So here we are in 2015, and here’s what was left of my forest; this photo was taken from the opposite direction of the first. You can see I paid no attention at all to the planting, as evidenced by the butterweed that sprang up (or maybe laziness is a better explanation). What I’ve got here is a number of shoots emerging from the spreading root base, near the original trunks. Note: the two trunks off to the side had been part of the original raft, but became separated during the collecting and potting process. I kept them with the group, which I think was the right decision.
My first step was to completely wash off the roots, to see what was going on underground. I was pleasantly surprised to find a healthy root mass. So I definitely had something to work with.
I cut back the stubs of the original trunks, trimmed off unneeded branches and new trunks, and wired those new trunks that were not moving harmoniously with the others. I also removed the smaller group from this planting, putting it in the ground for future growth and use.
Finally, my new raft/clump style bonsai begins its new life in a fine Byron Myrick tray. Obviously, the quality of this specimen is not nearly what the original was. But isn’t it better to make lemonade out of our bonsai lemons whenever possible?
I’ll post an update once the tree leafs out.
by Zach Smith | Mar 15, 2015 | American Elm, Care, Elms, Potting, Wiring
Many of you read my post from a few weeks back, “The Humble Bud – Sign of Things To Come.” The bud is the means by which any plant grows to its genetic limit and is able to remain alive for the duration of its lifespan. Most of them begin as a very small thing – some invisible to the naked eye. Yet within such a small package lies the entire means by which a bonsai artist can create a miniature representation of nature.
The humble bud turns powerful in due course. Consider that as it develops and elongates, it produces leaves the plant cannot survive without. The leaves are the powerhouses of any plant. Photosynthesis is the second most important biochemical reaction known (second only to enzymatic activity). Without photosynthesis, the plant starves and is unable to power any of its other metabolic processes. No hormones to produce roots or shoots. No enzymes to produce chlorophyll in order to support more photosynthesis. Nothing.
Leaving aside the rest of the negatives that go with lack of buds in the plant kingdom, not least of which is you and I would die, let’s focus on the raw power of the bud. As you might imagine, if each bud that appeared on a tree consisted of only one leaf the tree wouldn’t last long. Therefore each bud is a complex package, containing not only leaves – which appear readily as the bud opens – but also the entire vascular structure needed to transport raw materials to the leaves and food throughout the tree. Consider for a moment the collected deciduous tree consisting of only a trunk and severely pruned roots. The tree “knows” that without a branch structure supporting food-producing leaves it’s a goner. Therefore, the first order of business for the collected deciduous trunk is to grow new leaves and start making and transporting food; beneath the ground, it’s to grow the entire sub-surface support system that provides raw materials to the leaves. (The order in which this occurs varies from species to species; each knows what it has to do, however, regardless of the order.)
This is the American elm that appeared in the earlier post, in a photo taken March 7th. The buds on the tree at that time were very tiny – just big enough to be visible to the naked eye. Fast-forward a single week, and they’re beginning to move. Even at this early stage, you can see the extension of one of the buds. But what’s much more fascinating, at least to me, is the knowledge that this extending bud is programmed to become a mature branch with its own sub-branches and sub-sub-branches – what we in the bonsai world call ramification. I mean, consider the fact that all of this is programmed in right from the start. The bud doesn’t grow and then “learn” to get bigger and produce axillary buds; everything is already there, just waiting for signals from hormones to do their thing.
This process is reliable. The photo on the left was taken March 14th. Now our nascent shoot from last time has about half a dozen leaves (some are very tiny, waiting their turn to expand). It’s not a branch yet; that’s the next stage. Right now it’s very tender and easily damaged. It also has the ability to perform photosynthesis just as the leaves do. This ability only lasts until the shoot hardens off, at which time it will become brownish gray. But as with most plants that make their own food, there lies beneath the inner bark a layer of chlorophyll-infused tissue called the cambium layer of the plant. Whenever you use the “scratch test” to see if a branch is alive, you’re exposing a bit of the cambium layer – essentially it’s the presence of chlorophyll you’re seeking. If the branch dies, the chlorophyll degrades and turns brown (and dries out).
Notice that this shoot is stronger than the others. Whenever we chop an apically dominant tree, it’s only focus is to regain its height. This doesn’t work for the bonsai artist, meaning I can’t allow the strong shoot on this tree to become the dominant one. Once it hardens off sufficiently, I’ll trim it, wire it and bring it down into a horizontal position. This will automatically alter the dominance of certain hormones, allowing me to create an entire tree in just a foot-tall specimen.
I’ll post updates on this tree as it develops. This year I’ll be able to create the basic branch structure and get some secondary branching established. In 2016 the tree will be ready for a bonsai pot. By 2017 it should be a presentable American elm bonsai.
by Zach Smith | Mar 7, 2015 | Care, Hawthorn, Potting, Soil, Watering
I collected this Mayhaw, Crataegus aestivalus, in 2010 and potted it in this beautiful Byron Myrick oval in 2012. It’s grown, from a bare trunk, pretty happily since I first got it. I did a thread-graft to create a second branch (on the left) back in 2011. I think it could be separated now but plan to wait another year or two; there’s no need to rush.
I got a little dieback up the trunk at about the 2/3rd point. You can see the dark area. My plan was to carve this area back to live wood as part of the general repotting and pruning process. I also needed to find out how far down it ran. The tree is exfoliating bark this year, and it can be a bit challenging to tell the difference between the underlying live bark and dead wood.
Here’s the tree trimmed back and carved. The dead wood only went down a short distance, terminating in a V shape which is ideal.
I need additional thickening at the transition between the original trunk chop and the new apex. I cut the leader back hard and will let a new shoot run during this growing season. Getting the proper thickness is going to take another three to five years. But again, there’s no need to rush.
Here’s the root mass. As is fairly common with hawthorn, the roots are not as dense as you’ll typically find with other species. Hawthorns don’t seem to mind this a bit. I’ve seen them grow amazingly well with very sparse roots.
I went ahead and washed the roots off because there weren’t that many and I also wanted the opportunity to repot the tree in well-screened soil.
This is a large and deep pot, so I put a layer of pea gravel in to help with drainage. I water frequently, especially in summer since it gets very hot and I have lots of sun. Drainage is a vital factor in keeping your bonsai healthy.
Next, a layer of horticultural charcoal. I’m experimenting with charcoal this year to see how it affects the growth and health of some of my trees. I’ve heard good things, but it’s always best to check for yourself.
Finally, the tree potted in fresh, well-screened bonsai soil and watered thoroughly. The buds are already swelling on this tree, so I expect it’ll begin pushing shoots in one to two weeks. I’ve got buds on most of the new hawthorns I collected this season, so spring is pretty much upon us.
This tree has a 4″ trunk base and is 28″ to the chopped tip. Finished height will be about 32″.
by Zach Smith | Feb 28, 2015 | Care, Chinese Elm, Elms, Potting
We got some rain this week – it’s been without a doubt the most miserable weather of the winter – so my “mini-swamp” is partly full, as you can see in this photo. I know spring is not far off, because I’m getting budding on a number of “early risers.” You can see another clue here – the beautiful Louisiana irises growing in my mini-swamp started pushing a couple of weeks ago and are already getting pretty lush.
It’s time to lift this Chinese elm, which has been growing for the past five years with only the occasional disturbance by me. This next photo, which was taken a couple of weeks ago, shows some of the details of the tree and the plan.
The original cutting gave me a good start because it had a turn in the trunk. Often when you make cuttings, they end up arrow-straight. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; you can chop the trunk as it develops either in a pot or the ground. In the case of this specimen, I was able to let it run undisturbed for a few years. But a second chop was in the cards, and I dutifully made it two years ago. Now, you can imagine that after three years of strong growth without much restraint this tree could put on some wood in a hurry. The new leader that runs to the left is only two years old! Yet it’s 1.5″ in diameter, while the trunk base is 3″.
This is a good time to make note of a key factor in the development of bonsai material. Imagine if I had decided to lift this tree two years ago, when I made the first trunk chop to establish a second turn in the trunk. Do you think that, in a pot, the new leader would have swelled to 1.5″ in diameter in only two years? The answer is absolutely not! To grow the proper tapering transition in a pot would have taken at least four or five years. Not that it can’t be done, mind you, but in my experience when folks jump the gun on development this way they tend to skip the next step. This is very simply letting the new leader run to build thickness. Instead, they get in a hurry to create the tree’s crown and end up with a peculiar looking transition. This is easy to hide while the tree’s in leaf, but every winter the mistake is glaringly obvious. So one of my tasks is simply to practice restraint while developing this tree. I can build the next phase of the tapering transition in a couple of years, and have the crown finished out in another couple.
I’ve got a lot of practice collecting trees in shallow standing water; that’s the very best place to get bald cypresses. As with cypresses, this one came out in under five minutes. True to where I am, a crawfish was sitting on the root ball. He was too small to eat (and one’s hardly enough), so I put him back in the water.
Back to the tree. I went ahead and cut the top close to where I want the next turn to be. No reason not to. Now it was time to go find out what sort of root structure I have to work with.
Here’s the specimen with the mud washed off of the roots. I’ve found that Chinese elms are very cooperative when it comes to putting on a nice radial root structure. This is one of the reasons I rate Chinese elm as one of the best bonsai trees for beginners. You get everything in one package: easy care, naturally small leaves that readily reduce further, prolific budding, resistance to pests and diseases – and good roots. There are more than enough species to challenge your horticultural and artistic bonsai skills; I for one like some that don’t challenge me quite so much, if only for a change of pace.
Now the roots are cut back to fit a bonsai pot; this is the best approach whether you go directly to a bonsai pot or into an intermediate nursery pot. This is another point where the new enthusiast often gets off-track. When collecting deciduous trees, the major roots need to be cut back to both fit in a bonsai pot as well as to establish tapering transitions in each, in exactly the same fashion as you build a new leader. The tendency, unfortunately, is to make the mistake of trying to collect as much root as possible. This is simply not needed with deciduous trees (but it most definitely IS needed with pines and junipers, which may be why the assumption is made). The cut roots will reliably sprout new roots. Yes, I know deciduous trees store food in the roots during dormancy. But the collecting process typically removes the bulk of the tree’s above-ground structure along with the bulk of the below-ground structure. This maintains a balance, and dramatically reduces the need for stored food to promote budding in spring. New roots grow and buds become new shoots, and this process repeats in cycles throughout the growing season.
Finally, I went ahead and potted the tree into this very nice Paul Katich piece. I think the color will complement the foliage color when the tree leafs out. I went ahead and buried the roots to ensure they won’t dry out. But aren’t they outstanding?
I can grow the entire crown and branch structure from here, since the hard work of building the trunk has already been done. This should be well on its way to being completed in three to five years.
