What's A Tree Worth?

Yesterday the city of Palo Alto completed its removal of some 50 trees, mostly holly oak (Quercus ilex), from sidewalks and medians on California Avenue. This is the first phase of an urban facelift that promises additional pedestrian-friendly features such as crosswalks, benches, and new red maple (Acer rubrum) shade trees.

It's a bit disturbing, especially for someone in my business, to witness the clear-cutting of an entire business district. And the barren streetscape is particularly shocking for anyone who hasn't been there since, oh, Monday. But what seems to be most upsetting for people is the fact that, for most of us, this was an utter surprise.

My studio is located on Cal Ave, and I can attest that the city did reach out with mailers advertising public meetings and soliciting comment. But none of us was told that the project was moving forward, nor given a timetable. When I called Public Works on Tuesday (when the tree removal began), I was told only that "it's part of a remodel for the street." No proposed plans on file, no renderings to review.

As Jeff Gatlin of the Daily Post reports (sorry, no link, they think "giving away news online is a dumb way to do business"), reactions on my street range from resigned to furious. The owner of Leaf and Petal thinks the removals should have been done "in increments like a fifth at a time". The manager of Szechuan Cafe thinks "it was a bad idea to cut trees that were here for 30 years." Next door, excellent Mexican restaurant Palo Alto Sol lost a huge tree that shaded several of its tables; owner Hector Sol was as hot as his salsa rojo, saying "Whoever did this is an idiot… now customers refuse to sit where they used to ask to be seated."

For what it's worth, I feel that (1) all the trees should have been taken out, and replaced, at one time — a patchwork of old and new would have looked particularly odd; (2) the deciduous, colorful red maples will be an improvement over the evergreen, dark holly oaks; and (3) Hector's food really is excellent.

But there's a lesson in here about the emotional attachments people form with their landscapes.

For better or worse, we were used to the holly oaks. Sure, their deluge of acorns made walking a bit treacherous each fall. Sure, they misted sap onto cars, people and bikes each spring, Sure, they were massive and not particularly pretty. But they were "ours," they shaded us while we sat and dined and socialized, they added a vertical dimension to a low-slung avenue, they softened the aging concrete facades. We loved those old trees — we just didn't know it until they vanished.

Twenty years from now, we will have the same attachment to the red maples. I can only hope that, if future planners decide to remove those, they will have learned that we all would appreciate a little more time to prepare our hearts for the loss.

Faith, Hope…

The Jesusita Fire raged for days through Santa Barbara, California and continued to burn until the Santa Barbara County Fire Department declared the fire to be officially under control on May 22, 2009. In its wake, the fire burned over 8,700 acres of land and destroyed 80 homes.  — Santa Barbara Botanic Garden

On my recent vacation we passed through Santa Barbara and stopped by the fabulous SBBG, which had taken a big hit from the Jesusita Fire. Just up the road, a pile of twisted metal and black and gray rubble bore witness to the fire's devastation. On May 5, that was someone's home. On May 7, it wasn't.

Over on the other side of Mission Canyon, beautiful homes stood untouched, a testament to the latest heroism of thousands of firefighters. A couple of years ago, a Cal Fire captain in San Mateo told me that crews will focus their efforts on homes they know they can save, rather than spend precious time and resources on potentially losing battles. It was a harsh wake-up call: if your home isn't accessible or easily defensible, it's as good as gone.

Our mood was somber as we surveyed the scene. But then I noticed something odd: These charred sticks that used to be trees, they were sprouting. Growing. Regrowing. They were alive, and nothing as petty as an 8700-acre inferno was going to change that.

I was filled with hope. This is why we garden: to witness the unpredictable, play some part in the impossible. We plant a Salvia and hummingbirds materialize out of thin air. We plant the smallest of seeds and watch tiny leaves emerge after the coldest winters. We plant a tree, knowing we won't get to relax in its shade but that our children's children might. I'm sure I'm not the first to say it, but landscaping is an act of faith, a confidence that things will be all right — even if we can't know when or how.

A few weeks before our trip, the contractor remodeling the home next to ours had invited me to redesign its front yard. We both were delighted with my combinations of Phormium 'Dusky Chief', Euphorbia 'Helena's Blush', Nandina 'Gulf Stream', Festuca ovina glauca, Lavandula 'Provence' and Heuchera x 'Caramel'.

During our time away the weather had been hot, very hot, and as we rolled up to our driveway I wasn't surprised to see a few of my container plants had died. But the real shock was the house next door. My beautiful, drought-tolerant creation was… gone. All gone. Replaced by no less than the gratuitous lawn I despise. Explanation? The homeowner got cold feet, wanted "ordinary." Apparently extraordinary was too good.

I was devastated. I'm still upset. But I think of the people who lived in the house that is no more, and I realize that there are worse things than a garden gone wrong. And I think of those blackened twigs sending up their bright green leaves, and I realize that Nature has a way of righting herself.

All we have to do is keep the faith.

Planting The Seed

"In 1994, Congress transformed the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday into a national day of community service to further commemorate a man who lived his life in service to others. Never has it been more important to come together in shared purpose to tackle the common challenges we face."
—USAService.org

Actually, Jan. 17-19 is a three-day weekend of service, and this handy event finder will show you plenty of opportunities in your backyard... everything from blood drives and food sharing to habitat restoration, tree planting, and parks beautification. Many of these are perfect opportunities to introduce children to the values of volunteerism and service; you'll find me and mine planting trees in Castro Valley.

Making a difference in your neighborhood, community and world is as simple as making some time to volunteer. Even if it's just an hour, won't you join me in lending a hand?

The Rude Garden

In the grocery store today, I overheard a mother say sternly to her young, spirited child who was enjoying the store's music as only young, spirited children can: "Spencer, stop dancing. This isn't dance class. You don't see anyone else dancing, do you?"

How often do you hear that same voice in your own head? Does it keep you from having a garden that's truly yours? Does your front yard not sing or dance because none of your neighbors' does? Or maybe you had an idea for a feature you'd really enjoy in your back yard, but abandoned the thought because you've never seen it anywhere else before?

As a living system, the garden is one big experiment, and it will evolve regardless of how much or how little we're involved. Our landscape is "ours" for a relatively fleeting moment in time. So why not make the most of our short visit? Go ahead, wield your hand — try colors, combinations, specimens, and features that truly delight you. The worst that can happen, really, is that others might think your garden dramatic, eccentric, or even downright rude. Can you imagine? You could be "that garden" of whispers and legend. The "dangerous" one. The one that says to your neighborhood, "I live here."

If the very idea thrills you a little bit, you've got some work to do. I'm no therapist but there's no question that gardens, and gardening, can be therapeutic. Wouldn't it be great to dance again, like a young, spirited child?

Love Thy Neighbor

Especially when you're trying to increase your home's curb appeal, it pays to pay some attention to what's happening next door. Let's consider some of our typical neighbors, and how you might take a cue from them:

The Yawner Lawner. A square of grass, a few annual flowers, a couple of shrubs anchoring the front entryway… woo hoo, party time in suburbia. You have a couple of choices here: match your neighbor's lawn right up to the property line and co-host the neighborhood Thanksgiving football game; or show off your good taste with a stylish yet sensible mix of evergreen and deciduous shrubs that — unlike that slab of green next door — shift colors and shapes to show off a different asset every season of the year.

The Fortress. Whether it's a fence or a wall, this one makes a clear statement: "Keep Out." Assuming you're not interested in consolidating your properties into a compound, your best strategy may be to be as open as your neighbor is closed. If you must have screening, try a split-rail wood fence; or better still, use only softscape (plants), perhaps a loose hedge clipped low — Cornus alba has nice winter interest even when the leaves fall — with a structural feature such as a freestanding arbor to actually invite your guests up the front walk, not stop them short at the sidewalk.

The Palace. Its tiered fountains, Baroque statuary, and manicured boxwood attempt to recreate Versailles — albeit on a slightly smaller scale. Just what point the homeowner is striving to make may be a mystery, but your counterpoint can be more clear: simplify. Be authentic. Go native, even. Just as Versailles was designed to celebrate man's mastery over nature, your garden can celebrate the uncertainty, the maddening unpredictability, of a natural system. Sure, the very idea makes you nervous. But with a little professional help you'll pull it off, and your front yard — not your neighbor's — will be the talk of the block.

There are other neighbors we could analyze: The Museum. The Orchard. The Junkyard. (Although if you live next door to Great Dixter… well, there's really no point in doing much more than setting up a lemonade stand.) The point is, whether you want to distinguish your home to raise your property value or just to make it yours, sometimes the nearest inspiration lives next door.

Who lives next door to you?

Green Building Comes Home

If you're planning a construction project here in Palo Alto later this year, odds are you're going to be held to a higher standard than ever. As reported in the Palo Alto Weekly, a proposed building ordinance will require that residential construction ultimately comply with the "GreenPoint Rated" checklist developed by California's Build It Green initiative; and that commercial projects meet national LEED standards.

On the home front, here are some of the items Build It Green includes on their landscaping checklist:

Construct Resource-Efficient Landscapes

Use Fire-Safe Landscaping Techniques

Minimize Turf Areas

Plant Shade Trees

Group Plants by Water Needs (Hydrozoning)

Install High-Efficiency Irrigation Systems

Add Compost to Promote Healthy Topsoil

Mulch All Planting Beds

Use Salvaged or Recycled-Content Materials for Landscape Elements

Reduce Light Pollution

Collect and Retain Rainwater for Irrigation

The proposed ordinance is likely to take effect in July, with a phased implementation (e.g. home builders will only have to earn 75% of the necessary points within the first two years) to allow time to master the new requirements. But whether you're a local homeowner, a builder or a contractor working in Palo Alto, the political landscape is about to dictate major changes to your project's landscaping. If you have questions about what's ahead, I'd be happy to be your local green guide.

Seriously? The Worst Tree Ever?!

OK, I admit I was having some fun with my April 1 post. But Jane over at Garden Design Online alerted us to a feud (in my own community, no less! what kind of investigative journalist am I, anyway?!) (oh, yeah, I'm not) that really does demonize the venerable redwood: Basically, as reported back in February in the Los Angeles Times and more recently in the New York Times, a half-dozen existing redwoods are shading a neighbor's new solar panels and therefore running afoul of a 1978 state law.

Our local state senator, Joe Simitian, has introduced a bill to inject a little sanity into the issue; the bill would give existing trees legal precedence and priority over more-recently added solar panels.

Now if someone would only do something about those damn poppies.

The Worst Tree Ever

You know that beautiful, majestic, mature redwood tree in your neighborhood — maybe even in your yard? The one that's the pride of your community?

Kill it.
Cut it down.
Do it now.

"What?!" He's gone mad, you're saying. There's no — how could — what??!!

But the disturbing fact is, a grown redwood sucks up more water each and every day — 500 gallons or more! — than any other garden plant, including the oft-demonized lawn. Even the most water-unthrifty among us, spraying the lawn (and sidewalk and gutter) 10 minutes every day at 25 gallons per minute, might spend 250 gallons a day… but not 500 per plant.

And that's not even to mention that redwoods, like wolves, are hardly solitary creatures. They grow in groves, and if you've ever been to Muir Woods, you've seen it: as soon as one tree dies, a "fairy ring" sprouts up around its base. One down, five take its place. So now instead of 500 gallons per day, we're talking 2500 gallons. Do you want that water bill? I don't.

Will your garden be next?But it's not just water. The fairy ring is a perfect example: is there any better definition of a noxious weed? I mean, we curse the fluorescent yellow oxalis this time of year, but in a few months it's gone. We lament the smothering of our native hillsides by scraggly Scotch broom, but at least we can still see the hillside. A fairy ring gets going in your next door neighbor's lot, you may as well get yourself an old Underwood and start composing manifestos.

Plus, redwoods create fire danger. Their copious duff and bark are rich in tannins, which suppress not only weeds but also fire, which would be all well and good except that, as the wise people in our government who are paid to think these things all the way through know, the West's wildfires are becoming more catastrophic because there are fewer small fires occurring, so that when a fire does get going, it's got more and larger trees (i.e. more fuel) and spirals out of control much faster.

El Palo not-so-Alto-anymore
Quite honestly, redwoods are such a menace it's difficult to understand why they're the state tree of otherwise enlightened California — or why my own fair city not only hasn't cut down its decrepit namesake and renamed itself South Menlo or Steve's Town or something actually worthy of its citizenry, but actually has accorded these monsters "heritage tree" status; and so protected, they'll continue to grow and consume even more water — leaving even less available for the rest of us in these near-drought times.

Look: I appreciate the spirit of well-meaning groups like Save The Redwoods and Sierra Club and The Nature Conservancy, who valiantly endeavor to preserve the few remaining places that are so pristine it's almost a transcendent experience to visit. It just breaks my heart they so willingly ignore no less than Time magazine's reporting that "redwoods create their own microclimate" (which explains why gardening around them is an ambitious affair at best) to lionize the legendary Sequoia as if its utter domination of the landscape is somehow a good thing. "Drippy, dark and closed in," says one of California's foremost native plantsmen of a Sequoia habitat. "Cut the forest down and you usually get Northern Coastal Scrub."

Sequoia-free = tabula rasaThe irony is that once a redwood is removed, instantly it becomes apparent how much light and air are available to the gardener and the garden. Roses can grow where only ferns dared try; moss and musty odors disappear overnight; our dream of a water-wise garden actually has a chance of becoming a reality.

Still want a tree in that spot? Now you're free to choose. Plant a mighty oak! (Uh, well, except that oaks can drink 250 gallons a day and still become overbearing monstrosities that can never be cut down. Nevermind.) OK, plant a… willow! Or a birch! (Um, wait, those are both riparian species, so they'll suck up all your water and invade your sewer line.) A jacaranda, then! (Actually, it gets a little cold here for those to really thrive.) Jeez, a magnolia! (Yeaahhhhhh… despite their ubiquity, they actually heave hardscape like crazy and look pretty bad without constant moisture and humidity. Not a good choice for our summers.)

Look, what's wrong with you?! Why are you so hung up on specifics?! Once that damn redwood is gone, you can do whatever you want! Okay, I'll take the initiative: so that we can write the last chapter of this nightmare, I'll personally contact every city council on the peninsula, as well as the California EPA, and implore them to rescind the redwoods' heritage tree status.

Just… not today.

Reviewing the California Ave. Farmers' Market

As I mentioned last time, I'm thrilled there's a new farmers' market outside my office, complementing the Saturday market in downtown Palo Alto. And while the latter is definitely a "home-grown" affair, the Calif. Ave. market is quite the production, feeling more like a street fair than a gathering of growers. There's live music, handicrafts, that sweet-salty crack we know as kettle corn, chocolates, bakers, and vendors of just about every meal known to mankind.

Oh, yeah, and there's fresh fruits, vegetables, and fish, too. Frankly, I wanted to give this market 4 stars on Yelp just because it feels less like a true local-organic-food confab than a slick marketing gimmick. But I've bumped it back up to 5 stars because it's promised to be here year-round (the downtown market is dormant in winter), the hours are long enough to actually get breakfast OR lunch, and frankly the quality of the fresh fish and fresh oysters left my mouth watering.

Because it's only been open once so far, we'll have to see whether the vendor lineup changes, or the ratio of farmers to entertainment increases, but for now I'm just damn happy they're here. Definitely check it out if you're looking for a relaxed, sumptuous way to spend a Sunday morning.

To Market, To Market

It's official: Palo Alto will get our second farmers' market, opening Sunday, June 3 just steps from my office on California Avenue. It may be slightly more slickly produced than the Saturday downtown market, but can you really have too much?

My three favorite reasons why farmers' markets are great -- apart from the camaraderie and the quality of the food:
1) When else do you get the opportunity to actually talk with the people who grow the food you eat? The corn doesn't come from some faceless Nebraska corporation, the bread isn't shrink-wrapped. Wondering how to know when a persimmon is ripe? Ask the grower. These people are genuinely excited about what they have produced. Somehow, that makes their food taste even better.


2) They are a wonderful way to get in touch with the seasons. No plums, Pluots® or Apriums® in March, please -- not even organic ones. The bad news is, this will shake you out of your comfort zone when you can't buy asparagus in August. The good news is, this will shake you out of your comfort zone when you get to try cardoon in August.

3) What's more exciting than trying new food? By definition, small local farmers have small local farms. And they're not going to waste their resources trying to compete with the big farms that grow big quantities of the most common fruits and vegetables you'll find shrink-wrapped in Safeway. Thus, cardoon. And homemade marmalade. And heirloom eggplants. And purple cauliflower.

(By the way, kids often enjoy this kind of diversity -- give 'em a few dollars and let them choose their new favorite vegetable for tonight's dinner -- and it's nice to learn that food comes from the Earth, not the aisle.)

I hope I'll see you on California Ave. on June 3!

Go Outside and Play

When you were a child, was there a favorite place in nature you loved to play? A seminal, memorable moment spent outdoors? Did some way of being in contact with nature help make you the person you are today? Without that contact, who will today's children be tomorrow?

Richard Louv's fabulous article from Orion magazine raises big and important questions regarding our children and nature. It's not a "how to" piece. It's why to. And after reading the article, you'll agree it's not even a question.

A Tree Grows In San Francisco

On the heels of San Francisco's Arbor Day festivities, the City has announced its Urban Forest Mapping Project, which digitally pinpoints the location of each tree, maintains tree data in a consistent database, and offers web access to the tree data for maintenance and planting efforts.

This is no small undertaking, and because regular folks like you and I can post photos and stories about our own trees and map them online, it's a great example of how a wiki can help us live not in a collection of gardens, but in a true landscape. Thinking of planting an apple tree and wondering whether there's a pollinator nearby? Check the map. Need to know what that monster down the street is that reseeds itself so prolifically? Check the map.

The map is still in the development stages, but already it encompasses something like 140,000 trees. Check it out yourself: look up your favorite neighborhood or favorite tree... or better still, plant one yourself and add it to the database!

Keeping us together, keeping us apart

How do you use the space between your front door and the sidewalk? Probably the same as your neighbors do, especially if you're in a culturally homogenous area. Here, James Rojas observes Latino Urbanism in Los Angeles:



"Fences: A Social Catalyst
"Fences are a fixed prop. In many front yards across America one can find fences. Most people will build fences for security, exclusion, seclusion, etc. and Latinos build fences for these same reasons. Fences create easily defendable spaces and illustrate a simple, straightforward approach to procession: 'This is my space.' However it's the way Latinos use fences that becomes interesting.

"Waist-high fences are ubiquitous throughout the residential landscape of Latino Los Angeles. The fences function as place to keep things out or in, provide a place hang wet laundry, sell items or just chat with a neighbor. Fences are a useful threshold between the household and public domain and bring residents together. Boundaries bring people together and the fences in Latino neighborhoods define boundaries between public and private space. However here the fences break down the social and physical barriers by creating a place where people can congregate. The middle class suburban neighborhood people rarely congregate in the front yard. This visible expanse of land acts as a psychological barrier that separates the private space of the home from the public space of the street. Collectively the enclosed front yards create a different urban landscape and transform the neighborhood.

"Enclosed front yards help transform the street into a plaza. This new plaza is not the typical plaza we see in Latin American or Europe with strong defining street walls but has an unconventional form. Nevertheless the streets in Latino LA have all the social activity of a plaza. Residents and pedestrians can participate in the social dialog on the street from the comfort and security of their enclosed front yard. Fences clearly delineate their property between neighbors, which allows them to personalize their front yard without physically interfering with each other.

"La Yarda: A Personal Expression
Nowhere else in urban landscape of Latino Los Angeles is the use of space so illuminated and celebrated than in the front yard. Typical middle class front yard is an impersonal space in which no one sits there, no personal objects are left lying while the front yards in Latino LA are personal vignettes of the owner's life. Depending on the practical needs of the owners, the use and design of the front yard vary from elaborate courtyard gardens reminiscent of Mexico, a place for children, to working places. Middle class Americans put their daily habits in the backyard. Latinos bring the party, workspace and conversation to the front yard creating activity in the public space.

"The front yard in middle class suburbs has become a space dedicated to showing that we are good citizens, and responsible members of the community. In Latino LA front yard is not measure by the cosmetics of the lawn but rather your participation in streets activities. The Latino front yards reflect the Latino cultural values applied to American suburb form."

Living in one of the middle-class suburban neighborhoods Rojas describes, I can appreciate how little our front yards are used—which makes it all the more ironic that more often than not, they are comprised mostly of lawn, as though our children will be playing out front while we sip lemonade and chat with our neighbors.

Which is the more human condition: to convene as the community we are, to talk and work and play together despite (or even because of) our fences; or to retreat behind those fences, escaping the masses of people and trite conversation we endure all day in public, pretending that we live apart from and immune to everyone else?

Everyone Loves Lawn

In the recent article from Scientific American titled Landscape Influences Human Social Interaction, one study posits that we are more "neighborly" when our yards are covered with lush lawns, not waterwise plantings. But I'll add my own *asterisk to the findings. Because I can't tell you how often I have been out working in our own, non-lawn, garden and been engaged in conversation by neighbors and passers-by precisely because the garden isn't the typical suburban patch of green. Comments usually start along the lines of, "Looks good!" and evolve into "What is that (plant)?" or, quite presciently, "Are you a landscaper?"

So I will say that yes, landscapes do influence socialization. But I'll wager that it's the quality of the garden, not the content, that impels us to be neighborly.