All winter the grey beech trunks look almost white among the dark trunks
of neighbouring trees. Their branches are dark at the tips, and the buds
are long, slim, and sharp-pointed. Silky, brown bud scales, in many
layers, protect the young shoots hidden in these buds. In April these
shoots impatiently push aside their wrappings. The outer scales fall, the
inner ones grow longer, but the growing tip leaves them behind, and they
fall, while the silky-coated, fan-plaited baby leaves hang limp and
helpless on the lengthening stem.
No tree of the woods is more beautiful than the beech as its twigs cover
themselves with the tender green of spring. Beech leaves are _handsome_
when full grown. In the short hours of their babyhood they are _lovely_.
The sturdy shagbark hickory is late in waking. Poplars and beeches are in
full leaf when the big buds of this familiar tree with the shaggy bark
begin to swell, and show the pale, silky inner scales under the black
outer pairs, which soon fall off.
The branches are stiff and angular, but the twigs hold up their big buds,
and the trees look like great candelabra, each holding up a thousand
lighted candles. As the pointed buds push upward, the protecting scales
grow rapidly larger, and the outer ones turn back like the sepals of an
iris. Wonderful tints of olive and yellow, violet and rose, blend in
their silky covering. Out of this petal-like frill rises the cluster of
young leaves, small but perfectly formed, and just as varied and delicate
in colouring under their velvet covering. These complete the flower-like
appearance of the young shoots. The illusion lasts only until the leaves
spread out, and take on their natural, colour and size. The scales fall,
their duty done, and the flower catkins come out, under the broad
umbrellas of the fresh, new leaves. The tree is thoroughly awake, and has
begun its long summer’s work.
[Illustration: The great winter buds of the shagbark hickory open like
flowers in May]
[Illustration: Pink and silvery catkins of trembling aspen, and the
white, flannel-like leaves, just opened]
The poplar likes to grow in moist ground, and in companies of its own
kind. Copses of these trees, especially if they be young ones, are sure
heralds of the coming spring. Their stems and branches are smooth, and
almost as pale as white birches. They become greenish, especially the
smaller branches and twigs, as the sap rises. They are alive from root
tips to shining buds.
The brown scales loosen in March on the plumpest buds. The fuzzy grey
pussies push out, and lengthen into soft chenille fringes that wave
gracefully from every twig. They are grey, with a flush of pink, an
exquisite colour harmony, too lovely to last. Their catkins fall as soon
as their golden pollen dust is ripened and scattered by the wind. The
plain, green fertile ones on other trees catch the pollen, and set seed
which ripens, in green, berry-like capsules, in May. The seeds are almost
too small to be seen. Each floats away with the small wisp of down in
which it hides.
The slim buds on the same twigs open while the trees are still in
blossom. The young shoots come out, and unroll their baby leaves, soft
and white, covered with a silky down, and tinted pink under the
protective hairs. For a short time only they look like white velvet, and
are limp and helpless. Then the hairy coat is shed; the leaves become
shiny and bright green, and twinkle in the sunshine. The stems are
flexible and long and flattened. This makes them catch the breeze, if the
blades do not, so the foliage trembles whenever a breeze goes through the
tree top.
Quaking aspen, trembling aspen, and “quakenasp” are popular names given
this tree, whose foliage has the appearance and the sound of rippling
water. Tradition says the tree is forever accursed, and trembles as from
fear, because the traitor, Judas, hanged himself on an aspen. This is a
foolish notion. Only gaiety is expressed by the continual fluttering of
the aspen’s leaves.
The buds of cottonwood and Balm of Gilead trees are sealed with a
fragrant wax which softens as spring loosens the scales and growth
begins.
Bees throng these trees, and gather the soft wax to carry to their hives.
They use it to stop up cracks that would let in the rain. What is not
needed at once they store for future use. Bee-keepers call it “propolis.”
They have offered the bees something “just as good,” but they will take
no substitute for the genuine. That is produced only on the buds of trees
of the poplar family, and for a brief season it is ready for them in
spring.