I SHARE MY FRIEND, THIS WEEPING WILLOW TREE...

I love the weeping willow. Despite the fact that many people hate the sometimes messy tree, I took a photo today of a willow I know well, and now I share it with you.

Its shape is a bit peculiar, I admit. I have passed it almost daily over the years, but not until this time of year, when the colors of all the other deciduous trees have disappeared from view, do I fully see its glory. 

The willow holds its golden colors back until the last, and then it reminds me of a showgirl... a solo performer dancing under blue skies and sunshine, as well as in dark clouds and rain. In these days and weeks of the cold pre-winter, I always smile to see this willow looking like a long-haired blonde whose hair is being buffeted in all directions by the winds.

 

For sure, the willow is a NIMBY tree... Not In My Back Yard (or front yard or side yard or anywhere within at least 200 feet of the nearest septic field, water line, sewer line)... It's water-craving roots will move a great distance to invade such areas. Not good!

And certainly the willow does not belong in a residential yard or anywhere you're trying to grow a lawn. Willows, after all, are self-pruners. More accurately, Mother Nature is the pruner, in tandem with her storms, preserving the main frame by cutting out the weakest branches of the willow tree itself. But what a mess that pruning process can be; small branches and twigs all over the place; and the tiny leaves, wherever they fall, will thin your grass considerably and are all but impossible to rake out.

If you have acreage, however---and especially if that acreage has a creek, river, a lake, drainage basin, or slump that holds a lot of water---the willow can be beautiful and beneficial too. It can help prevent erosion of the shorelines; and when given all that space in which to spread, the willow tree can be magnificent.

 

Or... you can enjoy the tree on someone else's land, as I do, or in the wild. In parkland or in rural countryside this time of year in my northeast Ohio, you can spot a willow without trying. It's the golden blaze of its leafery that says goodbye when all the other autumn colors have long since given up the ghost.

And later as the dying winter melts toward a brand new season, the same trees will be a harbinger of the coming springtime. If the willow is the last deciduous tree of autumn to share its colors with you, the bark of its branches and twigs will also be the first to salute you with that same fine golden color when spring is in the wings.

The willow tree awakens early, giving hope to winter-worry humans who know enough to look for the brightness of its signal.

AND NOW WE MEET DECEMBER...

Now begins the cold and dark December.

The colors of the autumn have been left behind. Nature dresses now in black and white and countless shades of grey; in browns and tans and muted golds of sleeping winter trees and fields; in understated greens of hemlock, pine and spruce.

The nights are long; the days are short; the sun sets early and the moon arises late. The darkness lingers, and the daylight rises slow and laggardly against the cold.

Winter birds are fluffed against the cold, like humans in down jackets.

The snow begins; and you should forgive me if I say I'm not against the snow; I love it. 
Snow decorates the evergreens like humans never could; it coats the leaf-bare trees, softening their winter outlines; it lays a creamy softness on the contours of the earth and camouflages all the muck and mud and messiness the flooding autumn rains have left along my creek and bottomland...

Snow provides good insulation for my garden against the winter cold; it protects the bulbs, the roots of shrubs and trees and my perennials.
The snow provides a perfect foil for the moon; the shadow patterns of December moonlight on the snow are deep and dark and interesting.

The full December moon, which arrives December 10th this year, bears names from long ago, given to them by the native tribes. These names reflect the spirit of the cold... "Moon When Cold Makes Trees Crack"... "Big Cold Winter Moon"...  "Cold Hard-Faced Moon"...

The full December moon imparts a frigid sheen against the snow and polishes my creek to pewter. It's path is unobstructed in this bare-tree season. When the full moon wanes, the stars are numerous and bright against the darkness, and astonishingly close. They hypnotize sky-gazers like myself; I sometimes feel I am in the sky among them and could touch them if I dared to try.

The December mood of night is quiet, interrupted only by the wind or by the lonely hooting of an owl. Woodsmoke from neighbors' chimneys add a comforting aroma.

The year is old; the winter's new. December moves on creaky bones toward the Winter Solstice, and from there the creek grows quiet, its waters gelling from the edges....

Then comes Christmas Eve and Christmas, a holy season in itself; quite apart from nature. And that's a separate story...