List of Living Trees
My list showing which trees I have visited with links to completed posts.
Compiled from my major information resource, the Famous Trees of Texas website, this list serves as a Table of Contents for the site
1. Auction Oaks
2. Baptist Oak
3. Bell County Charter Oak
4. Ben Milam Cypress
5. Bloys Symbolic Oak
6. Borden Oak
7. Burnt Oak (no public access)
8. Burges Oak
9. Battle Oaks
10. Big Tree Ranch Baldcypress (no public access)
11. Cart War Oak
12. Century Tree
13. Choctaw Robinson Oak
14. Church Oak
15. Commissioner's Court Oak
16. Courthouse Cedar (removed in 2019)
17. Cabinet Oak
18. Columbus Live Oak
19. District Court Oak (no public access)
20. Dueling Oak
21. Fleming Oak
22. Founders' Oak
23. Goose Island Oak
24. Goliad Anacua
25. Goodnight-Loving Pecan
26. Half-Way Oak
27. Hallettsville Hanging Tree
28. Hangman's Oak (no public access)
29. Heart O'Texas Oak
30. Hubbard Ginkgo
31. Houston Campsite Oak
32. Jumbo Hollis Pecan (no public access)
33. Kimble Court Oaks (no public access)
34. Kissing Oak
35. Kissing Tree
36. Kyle Auction Oak
37. Kyle Hanging Tree
38. La Bahia Pecan
39. Landmark Cottonwood
40. Las Cuevas Ebony
41. Live Oak County Charter Oak
42. Log Cabin Oaks
43. Liberty Courthouse Oak
44. Masonic Oak
45. Matrimonial Oak
46. Muster Oak
47. Old Evergreen Tree
48. Old Baldy
49. Page's Tree
50. Panna Maria Oaks
51. Peach Point Oaks (no public access)
52. Parker Oaks
53. Ranger Oaks
54. Rio Frio Landmark Oak
55. Ross Oak (no public access)
56. Runaway Scrape Oak
57. Runyon’s Esenbeckia (no public access)
58. Rusk County Loblolly Pine (no public access)
59. San Saba Mother Pecan (no public access)
60. Seiders Oaks
61. Steel's Tavern Oaks
62. —Tombstone Oak
63. Traders Oak
64. Treaty Oak
65. Turner Oak
66. Twin Oaks
67. Tannahill Oak (no public access)
68. Urrea Oaks
69. Whipping Oak
70. Wiemers Oak (no public access)
71. Which Way Tree
72. Zachary Taylor Oak
A dash — before the tree name indicates that I have visited the tree and I’m still working on the write up.
These trees are not “famous,” but still interesting…
Favicon
If you view this site on a laptop or add it to your favorites on your phone, (hint!) you’ll see a little image called a favicon in your favorites list or in your browser tab. The icon is a linocut I created as a fine art printmaking student at the University of North Texas in the 90s.
An obvious choice for this project, the image was originally based on my own 1976 childhood drawing saved by my mother, whose handwriting you can see stating my name, age and the year. When I found my own five year old version of a tree, I immediately wanted to “copy” my style.
While in college, I worked part-time at a preschool/daycare with two and three year olds. I loved all these sweet kiddos and even made lifetime friends with one of the families I met there. Watching these kids draw and paint fascinated me.
Art school, with so many talented students, often nudged me into comparison mode, which works against creativity and fuels self doubt. Seeing the concentration and confidence with which these toddlers made deliberate marks on their paper was revitalizing.
I let go of trying to make realistic, technically perfect drawings and starting embellishing playful doodles with patterns and texture, turning them into finished works.
Finding and recreating my childhood creation brought everything full circle from admiring these self-assured kids to building my self worth. Using it for this project brings new life to a relic from my days as a young artist.
Terrible Gardener
Though it was already visible, you can't easily see the signs in these pretty pictures that all is not well
When I ponder the list of my personal garden disasters I smile, recalling this story about my former boss, who had a mischievous sense of humor.
He told us how he was leading an evening tour around Wave Hill and one of the group kept chiming in about plants in her own garden.
"Oh, when I tried that, it just died after one season."
"I'm always having trouble getting those to flower!"
Continuing his attempt to relay interesting details about the thriving specimens that were right there in front of them, she wouldn't let up whining about her botanical frustrations at home.
"Last year I planted those and they never came up!"
Exasperated, and noting the other tour members' visible annoyance, he addressed her smiling,
“You’re a terrible gardener”
He chuckled as though he were just teasing her. This apparently shut her up.
My roses were beautiful this spring, finally reaching a mature size that fills out the border I envisioned. Look how tiny they were in this post when I first planted them!
You can't easily see the signs in these pretty pictures that all is not well, though it was already visible: the twisted, thorny clusters and burnt looking foliage of Rose Rosette Disease. Incurable and transmitted via the eriophyid mite, this condition means that your roses must be pulled out roots and all.
Easy Does It™ ‘Buff Beauty,’ and Apricot Drift® all have to go. I doubt I would repeat any of these varieties, but I will plant more roses at some point.
This doesn't exactly make me a terrible gardener, but I feel like one. It's not my fault that those stupid mites hopped on and infected my plants, but it would've been more responsible of me to have taken care of them in a timely manner.
They're still sitting there all fried looking making a significant contribution to the trashed nature of my garden right now. Volunteers are welcome to help me put them out of their misery.
Originally published April 28, 2019
Full Circle
Getting kicked out meant I had the chance to try doing something I really cared about
In 2004, I got laid off of my graphic design job in New York. Slowly I realized that getting kicked out meant I had the chance to try doing something I really cared about for a living. Attempting to gain any information I could about horticulture during this transition period, I attended a memorable lecture by landscape designer Julie Bargmann of D.I.R.T. studio.
Nothing leaves the site.
I was inspired by this challenge with which she started each project. Rather than hauling away bad stuff to contribute to another waste site, she insisted on keeping all materials, incorporating them into the design, creating less environmental impact and preserving the history of the place.
As a former art student, it was validating to learn she got her start as a sculptor, transitioning to landscape design later in life. Artistic influence was evident in her compelling concept imagery and presentation style.
When she showed images of a project in the Turtle Creek area of Dallas, I felt a thrill of surprise. I spoke to her afterward telling her I had grown up there. Later I wrote her asking her how to shift into a career in horticulture. She answered with helpful advice: There is no one way to do it. There are so many organizations who need help. Volunteer. Try everything. Not long after that I started my internship at Wave Hill.
When I began working for Clint Horticulture at the end of spring 2018, I was astonished to learn that the project that I heard Ms. Bargmann speak about at that lecture is one of the properties we maintain. Experiencing first hand this place she had described let me feel the gravity of the progress I've made. The hope and aspiration from back then became a tangible reality and I was filled with the deepest gratitude.
Originally published June 17, 2018
Thomas Rainer in Texas
At the risk of sounding like a gushing lady fan, I feel genuine excitement reading, and many times cracking up at concepts expressed with humor, that get me thinking about what the act of gardening means.
John Emmanuel, my mentor at Wave Hill, always said that the books you are called to read provide your instructions for life.
At a time when it is easy to become despairing about the loss of wild spaces, Thomas Rainer and Claudia West have hopeful ideas about a horticultural renaissance.
Acknowledging the enormous pressure that has been placed on plants and those who work with them, they have outlined practical strategies for utilizing living things to "hedge against the uncertainties" of nature.
Their book, Planting in a Post Wild World, details techniques that look to nature for guidance in bringing aesthetics as well as sustainability to challenging urban settings. Loaded with intelligent yet accessible ideas, diagrams and gorgeous photos, it is both a vital reference point as well as a source of inspiration.
Since discovering his blog, Grounded Design years ago, I've been a follower of Rainer's writing. At the risk of sounding like a gushing lady fan, I feel genuine excitement reading, and many times laughing at concepts expressed with humor, that get me thinking about what the act of gardening means. Also, I love when writers share the work of others so I can maintain a steady stream of books and blogs to devour. His thoughts broaden my comprehension of how we can make a significant contribution through the work of horticulture.
Can you tell I was excited to meet one of my favorite garden writers?
One resonant opinion was a post where he suggested an amusing/depressing experiment to get and idea of the typical American landscape.
Google the term: Yard of the Month
In yearning for a more diverse aesthetic in contrast to the vast lawns and meatball shaped shrubs of these examples, he expressed concern that a totally wild look could potentially turn off much of the public to using native plants in fear of the messy effect of an abandoned lot.
Image from Planting in a Post Wild World
If they don't look good, Rainer asserts, no one cares about natives. Horticulturists know that including biodiversity in our landscapes is important. Grasping the value of thoughtful and attractive design means more receptivity to these virtuous concepts. After reading that post, I was hooked and eventually read the entire blog.
Thrilled to learn he would be speaking in Texas, I packed up my kiddo and took off on a road trip to Nacogdoches. Meeting him in person provided a chance to share what his work has meant to me.
Roaming around town before the lecture, we noticed beautiful weeping Taxodium on the edge of the Gayla Mize garden and spent some time exploring in the woodsy park.
The small venue gave me an opportunity to directly express my gratitude. I immediately said hello and mentioned that, at last summer's Cultivate'17 conference, I had the opportunity to see Claudia West speak. She was vibrant and full of enthusiasm about the techniques masterminded by her mentors. She provided an excellent overview of these designed communities, grouping plants by their levels of aggressiveness and combining them in careful percentages to create sustainable plantings.
When I shook her hand afterward, I joked that I hadn't needed to scribble down the specific plants she detailed during the lecture, since few of them would thrive in the brutal heat and blackland prairie soils of my home.
Fellow Texans: we have work to do!
Regional trials and experimentation are needed to use these effective principles.
Why not have a garden on the roof of a gas station?
I've always appreciated the contrast of reading versus gardening – thought versus action.
Reading is done in isolation, while sitting or reclining. To dig holes, plant, and water you must be upright, and often outdoors. Seeing a horticulturally minded author speaking connects the two activities, facilitating personal interaction with the written material. Information delivered vocally connects you instantly to the ideas and follows different neural pathways than reading it.
The High Line was completed just before I left NYC in 2010. Now it is one of the most visited sites in the city. A project on which Rainer and West collaborated made the request to create a design that encouraged a similarly devoted visitation. This setting must also survive seasonal flooding and shallow soil volume, not to mention maintenance by untrained mow-and-blow landscape crews. Rainer explained that the demands of this project illustrated the immense expectations we are now placing on urban plantings and became the reason for writing Planting in a Post-Wild World.
Highlighting key points from the book, Rainer tailored several ideas specifically to Texas, showing slides from Houston floods and noting plants in the landscape just outside the lovely windowed space.
Encouraging us to consider the way we keep many garden plants on "life support" by constantly fertilizing, irrigating and amending soils, Rainer and West suggest instead to think in terms of designed plant communities with multiple layers of interest and protection.
Pointing to the local movement in food culture, he expressed a concept close to my heart: encouraging the use of regional plants not only to handle the particulars of climate, but also to embrace the specific heritage of the site.
In a city that loves to plant azaleas, which struggle in the alkaline soils of north central Texas, I crave plantings that create unique local flavor and style. It started wheels spinning in my mind about ways we can provide a sense of place by using plants to blur the homogenous effect that plagues urban/suburban areas throughout the US.
Azaleas, like this one from the Gayla Mize garden in Nacogdoches, are better suited to the piney woods of east Texas than Dallas.
Many thanks to Assistant Professor of Horticulture Jared Barnes, at Stephen F. Austin State University, who brought this compelling speaker to the Lone Star State.
Horticulture is truly awesome.
It was extremely satisfying to learn and be filled with hope and conviction by a speaker with wisdom from the field, a functional approach and a strong viewpoint from years of writing.
Thanks also to my son August, for his good behavior during the 2 hour lecture.
In closing, I couldn't better convey the optimistic spark I felt than to quote directly from the book's own conclusion:
“The time is right for a renaissance of horticulture.
Designed plant communities require an ecological understanding of plants, but even more, they need designers with an eye for combinations, a flair for color, and an intuitive sense of natural harmony. They need gardeners who can find a place to plant, even among skyscrapers and row houses. They need plant lovers who understand that we don’t need to go to a national park to have a spiritual experience of nature; we can have such experiences in our backyards, parks and rooftops.
If it is true that the next renaissance of human culture will be the reconstruction of the natural world in our cities and suburbs, then it will be designers, not the politicians, who will lead this revolution. And plants will be at the center of it all.”
Let us support these two visionaries in spreading this powerful message.
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For your further reading and listening pleasure, below are my favorite links to provide familiarity with Rainer and West:
This terrific Q&A in the NY Times with Margaret Roach of A Way to Garden is a good introduction to the concepts in the book.
This wonderful podcast interview by Margaret Roach with Claudia West got me excited about Carex.
What If There Was No Landscaping? You know you've found a great blog when the comments are worth reading.
Because it shows his sincere love for plants, I loved Spring Inspirations: What I’m Planting this Year.
I chuckled at a kindred spirit after reading this line: "The color on this Iris is so spectacular; I get chest pains just thinking about it."
Pleasure Garden is a rare entry showing us his home garden. Many of us can empathize with his feelings of vulnerability at publicly exposing his landscape. I personally relate to his description of an "assembly of plants," acquired inexpensively, rather than actually designed.
Why I Don't Believe in Low Maintenance Landscapes
If the act of gardening is a relationship, then low maintenance gardening is code for “I’m just not that into you.”
“Sucking is the first step to being sorta good at something.”
Amen.
Originally published May 20, 2018
Rainbow
Must we "believe" to appreciate these ephemeral occasions?
On my way to Austin to see Peckerwood and visit friends, I saw a ENORMOUS, beautiful rainbow when I stopped for gas.
This 2015 mobile phone photo does it no justice whatsoever.
A gigantic half circle stretched to nearly touch the ground, with bright colors saturating the precipitating sky and a second partial band alongside it. Thrilled, I leaped from my car to get a better view.
Standing in the light rain, I looked around to see if others had noticed this grand sight and pointed it out to a man walking toward the store.
Rainbow!!
He began shouting, "I don't BELIEVE in rainbows! I do NOT believe in rainbows!"
A perplexing response to say the least. Must we "believe" to appreciate this ephemeral occasion? This individual may or may not have been playing with a full deck, so to speak.
I tried again, pointing it out to a couple other young guys pumping gas.
Did you see the rainbow?!?
I was clearly excited and it really was worth notice. They nodded and kind of smiled. No big deal.
Ok, perhaps I appeared a bit over zealous… or maybe even intoxicated standing in the drizzle taking photos like that sobbing double rainbow guy on youtube. Walking slowly backwards to my car, I passed a man at the next pump by a big red truck.
Did you see? I pointed.
"OHHH THANK YOU," he called out, walking towards the store.
Finally, a proper acknowledgement!
When I finished filling my tank, the fleeting moment was gone. The same man came back out to his truck and said,
"Thank you so much for showing me that rainbow."
You're welcome!
This post was originally published on my first blog on June 14th, 2015