The blessings it confers are incalcuable

I see a palm trees everyday. There are roughly 2600 spieces of Arecaceae, but not that many varieties in Los Angeles. Like the wait staff of many restaurants seeking fame in Hollywood, the palm trees aren’t even from Los Angeles. They were brought here 100 years ago or more from Latin America and other exotic lands. That was only a beginning. Hundreds of Mexican Palms, which look a lot like the Canary Island Date Palm and were planted throughout the modest neighborhoods of south Los Angeles to herald the 1932 Olympics, and are still thriving. Los Angeles is full of them. Local officials really don’t care for them. They look good on post cards and because they have become the universal sign for vacation the tourism boosters are big supporters, but those with a more practical point of view disagree. Their tall, bare trunks make them inferior when it comes to providing shade, and their scant leaves make them less effective at trapping air pollution. Stand next to an oak tree, feel the shade. Stand next to a palm tree or stand next to a telephone pole…no difference. The yearly clean up cost for palm trees in Los Angeles is about $350,000, but to really maintain them the right wat would cost upwards of $385,000. Its hard to predict their future in Los Angeles. The city doesn’t replace a palm that succumbs to fungal disease or those that grow into the power lines and are removed overnight, with another palm. You get a magnolia, maybe a jacaranda, . Twenty Five year ago I purchased four five gallon palms. One still is potted and is of somewhat manageable size. The other three, they went into the ground. Out of those three two were cut down by The Los Angeles Department of Water & Power (into the lines) the other one is amazingly tall and must be professionally pruned each year of the little date nuts that form in the stratosphere. Frankly I could do without the palms. But a worthless tree? In the age of supermarkets, hardware and clothing stores I guess they are low on the scale. But this wasn’t the case in the mid 19^th century. Read what travel writer Herman Melville wrote in 1846 about the cocoa nut palm tree.

“ The blessings it confers are incalculable. Year after year, the islander reposes beneath its shade, ( OK I know the shade, but in there never have been many oak groves in the Polynesian chain) both eating and drinking of its fruit; he thatches his hut with its boughs, and weaves them into baskets to smaller ones , with bowls for his pipes, the dry husks kindle his fires; their fibres are twisted into fishing lines and cords for his canoes; he heals his wounds with a balsam compounded from the juice of the nut, and with the oil extracted from its meat embalms the bodies of the dead.

The noble trunk itself is far from being valueless. Sawn into posts, it uphold the islander’s dwelling; converted into charcoal, it cooks his food; and supported on blocks of stone, rails in his lands. He impels his canoe through the water with a paddle of the wood, and goes to battle with clubs and spears of the same hard material.

In pagan Tahiti a cocoa-nut branch was the symbol of regal authority. Laid upon the sacrifice in the temple, it made the offering sacred; and with it the priests chastised and put to flight the evil spirits, which assailed them. The supreme majesty of Oro, the great god of their mythology, was declared in the cocoa-nut log from which his image was crudely carved. Upon one of the Tonga Islands, there stands a living tree revered itself as a deity. Even upon the Sandwich Islands, the cocoa-palm retains all its ancient reputation; the people there thought of adopting it as the national emblem.”

Obviously The Los Angeles City Council doesn’t see eye to eye with Melville’s thoughts as he contemplated the story of the great white, but they do have a point of view. Do we lose our iconic palm tree, is the symbol of Los Angeles destined to morph into a jacaranda? The world has changed and the palm’s values have died.

Phryganidia californica

Its the stuff science fiction movies are made from. Bleary eyed from an early morning flight, I walk outside into the hazy fog that only the Central Coast of California knows at 10 AM. The verdant oak tress are barren, the garden paths are paved in a yellowy powder, and every railing, tree trunk, Adirondack chair, is covered with thousands of one inch caterpillars with little red round heads. Avoiding sitting or stepping or squashing one with your hand is unavoidable. Too bad because these creatures ooze green when exploded by pressure.

But this is real, this is the oak moth.

Every decade or so, maybe in some places, more frequently (obviously my property), the California oak moth, Phryganidia californica populations explode and defoliate large areas of coast live oak. In 2007, parts of Monterey, Carmel and Del Rey Oaks supported an outbreak. This continued in 2008 and extended in patches inland to Carmel Valley Village. This is a natural part of the life cycle of the coast live oaks. But somewhat worrisome since it was only three years since the last population explosion.

My first reaction was that I was loosing my beautiful ancient oaks. It was tough for me when a 200 + foot specimen died of natural causes and I had to have it taken down. This would be devastating. I called my Carmel Valley nature guru Jon Augustitus who assured me this was part of nature and that the tress would all come back stronger. He also explained that in times of drought this was nature’s way of making the giant oaks less dependent on water. But now the caterpillars, and the yellow powder…what’s up?

Moths, like butterflies, are part of the order Lepidoptera and thus have a similar life cycle. Females lay whitish eggs in clusters on twigs and leaves; the eggs turn reddish or brownish as hatching approaches. I must admit I never saw this coming. The eggs hatch into tiny black caterpillars or larvae. The mature larvae are 20–30mm long and are olive green with black and yellow longitudinal lines along the back and sides and have a reddish head. These are the monsters that defoliated my oaks. When they are ready, the larvae enter the pupa stage. The pupae are white or yellow with black markings and are found hanging from bark, leaves, and branches. When the pupa is mature, an adult oak moth will emerge. And this is what I have to look forward to; as many moths as there are caterpillars!

Ok so this explains the bare trees and the creepy little crawlers that by the way fall from the trees into my hair, on my clothes; one even took a dive into my small batch bourbon. What about the yellow powder?

It’s the frass. When oak moth caterpillars begin feeding they drop frass. Their frass is small and golden brown in color. What’s frass? Simple, frass is the indigestible part of my oak leaves. Frass is caterpillar poop. I am just amazed at the amount!

In situations like this my knee jerk reactions is to call someone; some kind of exterminator. This time though I am going on what I am being told. It’s part of nature’s order. I am able to bask in her beauty so why not follow her rules.

I will report back and let’s not forget the moths that are due in thirty days or so.

Secret Garden (Back Garden Update)

Alexis suggested this update. In April of 09 I posted that I wanted to get rid of my back lawn and install small pebbles, redirecting my irrigation to the perimeter narrow gardens. I had Sloane and a friend scrape the grass, had a dump truck unload a lot of tiny pebbles, and Jan wheel barrowed the rocks into place. Done. No. In September of 2009 Jan and I went to New York for three months. On our return a grassy weed has taken over the pebbles. Tony and the boys came in, shoved the pebbles to the side, pulled the weeds, and covered the earth with a black cloth that lets rain through but not vegetation. This black cloth was something that I had originally considered but thought I might dodge that bullet. Nope. It is an important element. Even the lengthy walkways in Carmel that are covered in small pebble, have to be majorly weeded every spring after the fall rains. If you want it maintenance free the black cloth is a must. Jonathan Henry came over for dinner last week and settled back in the back garden casually calling it a secret garden. He didn’t realize what a compliment he paid me.