Catalpa Tree

 

          I love the Catalpa Tree. It has such big beautiful blossoms. There are a couple of trees along a road we travel often. One is just before you get into our little town and the other is just before you get into Wysox, another little town about twelve miles away.

          “Can we stop?” I ask.

          Mike is a good husband and pulled off to the side. I got out and had to wait before I could cross the road.

          I was barely able to reach the lowest hanging branch. I pushed some of the giant heart-shaped leaves aside and took a picture of the big showy flowers.

          I wanted you to see just how big the flowers are but couldn’t get my hand in the shot because I was holding the branch. On a whim, I broke it and took it back to the car with me.

          Now, with my hand for perspective, you can see just how big they are!

          “Are you going to plant that?” Mike asked.

          Surprised, I answered, “I hadn’t thought of that. I picked it to take pictures. Can you start a tree from a branch?”

          “I don’t know,” he answered.

          I didn’t really expect him to know but I know how to find out. I’ll Google it!

          With their ruffled edges and yellow and purple stripes, aren’t these trumpet-shaped flowers just beautiful‽

          Pulling into the driveway, Mike says, “Let’s get our walk out of the way, okay?”

          We’re getting older now, putting on a few pounds, and Mike’s doctor has ordered him to get more exercise, even if all he does is go for a walk. I’m a good and dutiful wife and accompany him. I could use the exercise, too!

          “Okay by me. Just let me put this in water first.” 

          I dash into the kitchen and look for something tall enough to put my treasure in. My aluminum water bottle full of water stood by the kitchen sink. I unscrewed the top and plunked the branch in. I’m gonna have to wash it now, I think and head out to walk with Mike.

          “Look at that,” Mike whispers as I join him on the patio.

          Down by the pond, a doe wearily watches as she feeds her fawn. We stood still.

          In a few minutes the fawn finished and the two walked off into the weeds.

          We hadn’t gone far down our little dirt road when we spy a lone doe at the neighbor’s pond.

          Does often leave their fawns in a safe spot while they go off and graze.

          We pass another house farther along on our walk. Only an old man lives here now. His wife died a few years ago and I think he’s just waiting to die.

          My eyes aren’t the best anymore, since I have cataracts developing, and often don’t see details until I look at the photos on my computer screen.

          It made me sad to see the condition of the bow window. The plants have long since died, the brown and curled leaves piled around the bottom of the pots like a memorial.

          Suction cups holding beautiful stained glass sunchatchers have given way. I can see some have gotten caught on their way to the window sill.   

          I stop to smell the peonies. Bringing one close to my nose, I’m startled when a spider emerges from the depths of the petals.

Did he think I was something good to eat? I wondered.

Leaving him to his flower, I reach for another. A glimpse of color catches my eye. Pulling the petals apart reveals a bright red center.

          Turning back to the road, I see Mike has gone on ahead without me. No problem. I can walk faster than he does anyway and can catch up to him in no time.

          At home, we sit and cool off on the patio with a tall bottle of cold water.

          Mike retired to his recliner for some afternoon TV watching and I head for the computer.

          How to start a tree from a branch, I Googled and spent the next hour reading various articles. I settled on making some homemade willow rooting tea and went out to cut a few willow branches. Willow shrubs grow like weeds around here. Heck! They are weeds! And I never gave them a thought. I suppose they would’ve worked. But what do I do? I head for the Yellow Willow that we planted ten years ago.

          “You’re going to cut my tree!” Mike was incredulous. He worries over it more than a mother hen.

          “Just one little branch. It won’t hurt it,” I assure him.

          Our pond, with all the junk willows, is the perfect place to raise a family, if you’re a Red-winged Black Bird, that is. Every year they nest here. I wasn’t surprised to hear the alarm being raised as I got close, an intense and fast scolding chak chak chak.

          “I hear you!” I say. I always talk to the wildlife. I head around to the other side where the Yellow Willow grows and a black streak comes diving at me from the overhead powerlines, yelling at me the whole time. “Hey! I’m not gonna hurt your babies!”

He didn’t rake my head but it was close. And I knew I was close. I could tell by the intensity of the cries and the frequency of the divebombs. I’m scanning the brush at the edge of the pond, looking for the nest. All I can see, with my eyesight being what it is, is a brown spot. A nest? I think and snap a picture.

A male Red-winged Blackbird was almost frantic. I turned my camera in time to see him launch himself from a nearby branch.

And in case you’ve never been divebombed by a bird, this is what you see.

I cut a branch from the willow and head back to the house to make my rooting tea. It was only then that I see I’ve got a hitchhiker.

          “What is it?” I know you wanna know.

          This is a Gypsy Moth baby. Okay, okay! It’s a caterpillar. Gypsy Moths are not well liked because of the destruction they cause. Me? I shake him off into the weeds. I don’t have the heart to kill things if I don’t have to.

          The instructions for making the rooting tea aren’t all that precise so I’m guessing it doesn’t matter very much. Clean off the leaves, cut into one- or two-inch pieces, pour boiling water over, and let cool. You can add your branch right away or let your tea sit for five to seven days. My branch was ready and waiting so I would add it when the tea cooled.

          I prepared my branch.

          Cut off all fruit, the website says, and cut the leaves in half. You want it to put its energy into making roots.

          I did all that and stuck my branch in. I’m not sure I have enough juice to reach the part of the stem that’ll make leaves. I added water to fill the jar and took it out to the kitchen patio.

          Did you know that Catalpas won’t bloom for three to five years?

          I didn’t know that.

That they’re the sole source of food for the Catalpa Sphinx Moth?

I did.

And did you know that the larval stage of the moth is called "catawba-worms" and make excellent bait for fishing?

I knew this too.      

Now we wait. It can take months for the roots to develop. 

I’d really like to have a Catalpa Tree.

Keep your fingers crossed for me, okay?

I got a nice surprise when I downloaded my camera. I came to the ones I’d taken when the Blackbirds were so upset at me, zoomed in on the ‘brown spot’ in the willow brush, and what do I see? There, peeking out at me, being still because that’s what he instinctively knows to do when danger’s near, is a fledgling Blackbird.

Stay tuned for future Catalpa updates.