BUDS
“Let us take a branch of lilac or any shrub. In the angle formed by
each leaf and the branch that bears it, an angle called the axil of the
leaf, we shall see a little round body enveloped in brown scales. That
is a bud or, as it is also named, an eye.
“Buds make their appearance at fixed points, and it is the rule for one
to form in the axil of each leaf; it is also the rule for the tip-end
of the branch to bear one. Those situated in the axils of the leaves
are called axillary buds, and those that are found on the ends of
branches, terminal buds. They are not all equally vigorous, the
strongest being at the top of the branch, the weakest at the bottom.
The lower leaves even shelter such small ones in their axils that only
the closest scrutiny will reveal them. These diminutive buds often
perish without developing unless artificially encouraged to do so. On a
lilac branch it is easy to note these differences of size from bud to
bud.
“Both terminal and axillary buds are divided into two classes. In
developing some sprout up and produce only leaves; these are called
leaf buds. When fully developed they become shoots or scions, and
finally branches. Others push upward but little and bear only flowers
or leaves and flowers simultaneously. They are called flower buds, or
simply buds. It is very easy to distinguish one kind from the other on
our fruit-trees, the leaf buds being long and pointed, the flower buds
round and thicker.
“All summer long the leaf buds grow in the axils of the leaves; they
are gaining strength to go through the winter. Cold weather comes and
the leaves fall, but the buds remain in their place, firmly implanted
on a ledge of the bark, or a sort of little cushion, situated just
above the scar left by the falling of the adjacent leaf. To withstand
the rigors of cold and dampness, which would be fatal to them, winter
clothing is indispensable. It consists of a warm inner envelope of
flock and down, and a strong outer casing of well varnished scales. Let
us examine for instance the bud of a chestnut-tree. Within we shall
find a sort of wadding enswathing its delicate little leaves, while on
the outside a solid cuirass of scales, arranged with the regularity of
tiles on a roof, wraps it closely. Furthermore, to keep out all
dampness, the separate pieces of this scale armor are coated with a
resinous cement which now resembles dried varnish, but softens in the
spring to let the bud open. Then the scales, no longer stuck together,
separate, all sticky, and the first leaves unfold covered with a
velvety red down. Nearly all buds, at the time of their spring travail,
present in different degrees this stickiness resulting from the
softening of their resinous coating. I will mention especially the buds
of the ash, alder, and, above all, the poplar, which when pressed
between the fingers emit an abundant yellow glue, of bitter taste. This
substance is diligently gathered by the bees, which use it to make
their bee-glue, that is to say the cement with which they stop the
fissures and rough-coat the walls of their hive before constructing the
combs. Under its modest appearance the bud is a veritable masterpiece:
its varnish excludes dampness; its scales protect it from harmful
atmospheric influences; its lining of flock, wadding, downy red hair,
keeps out the cold.
“The scales form the most important part of the bud’s winter clothing.
They are nothing more nor less than tiny leaves hardened and toughened,
in short so modified as to serve the purpose of protection. The leaves
immediately under them and constituting the heart of the bud have the
usual form. They are all small, pale, delicate, and arranged in a
marvelously methodical manner so as to take up the least possible room
and at the same time to be contained, all of them, despite their
considerable number, within the narrow limits of their cradle. It is
surprising what a quantity of material a bud can make room for under
its sheath of scales in a space so small that we should find it
difficult to pack away there a single hemp-seed; and yet it holds
leaves by the dozen or a whole bunch of flowers. The bunch enclosed in
a lilac bud numbers a hundred and more blossoms. And all this is
contained in that narrow cell, with no tearing or bruising of any
portion of it. If the various parts of a bud were disconnected, one by
one, if the delicate arrangement were once undone, what fingers would
be clever enough to put it together again? The principal leaves lend
themselves to a thousand different modes of arrangement in order to
occupy the least space possible. They take in the bud the form of a
cornet; or they roll themselves up in a scroll, sometimes from one edge
only, sometimes from both; or they fold up lengthwise or crosswise; or
they may roll up into little balls, or crumple up, or fold like a fan.”