What happens in a week of bonsai
A daily...log.
My trees are at a point in summer where there's not much to do but watch them grow. Some are still waiting for me to cut back their new growth, but I want to give them another month to thicken up. I suspect the recent heat wave has sent others into summer dormancy, a kind of botanical catatonia in response to extreme temperatures. So I water and watch the trees grow. Looking around the neighborhood, the dominant color—the only color—is a deep green. It's too late for flowers and too early for fall colors. All the flora is focused on vegetative growth.
I want to show what a week of bonsai looks like during one of these slow periods.
Friday, July 22: I have some trees that demand daily watering or they’ll riot. Many live in my apartment, including an osmanthus that’s thriving after a repot this spring. The other trees live out at The Queensboro, a restaurant a few blocks away. It’s blazing hot in the afternoon, but I have plans later and I know my spruce is screaming for hydration, so I hustle out to give the trees a quick rinse. They look good on a spot check. I’ll see them tomorrow.
Saturday, July 23: A good day to mess around with trees but it’s too hot to think. I finish my indoor watering: that osmanthus, a pomegranate, two olives. One of the olives is showing yellow spotting on a leaf. I’ve been tracking its progress and have yet to find patterns. Worrisome.
I head to The Queensboro around 11 am.
On weekends, the restaurant extends an awning that partially shields outdoor customers—and trees—from the afternoon sun. That’s good for my more sensitive trees, and it’s always fun to navigate the obstacle course of cars and brunchers as I sneak into the street to water the trees without disturbing customers. Some look amused, others befuddled. It’s cute.
I give all the trees a deep drink. This is the price of planting in bonsai soil. The rocky substrate provides excellent airflow to encourage dense root growth, but it holds so little water that you better be ready to refresh the pot once or even twice a day. Most trees become dead meat once their roots dry out.
Sunday, July 24: A day for tree work, finally!
Hit The Queensboro in the morning and josh with the staff who are tickled pink about the whole tree arrangement. Then the farmers market for groceries and all the apples I can carry.
After my second shower of the day I set to work on my water jasmine. I pruned it hard earlier this month (and forgot to document the process). Now new buds are starting to come in. Most of them are concentrated at the top of the tree. It’s my job to remove these and any other shoots that I won’t use, so the buds lower down the trunk can thrive. Once the tree develops new branches and recovers, I’ll remove it from its soil to investigate its roots.
In the meantime, I rotate the tree around, contemplating different points to chop the trunk back, and studying the resulting cutting that I could try to root. I’ve yet to make progress on my water and soil propagations of this plant, and I’d like at least one successful rooting under my belt before going after a larger piece of trunk. So like many parts of bonsai, this gets set on the back burner for me to think about in three months. Lastly, a bit of bonsai surgery. I split an important branch on this tree by bending it too hard. I need both parts of the split for my design, so to ensure their success I wrap the break with thread to make a branch bandage, then seal it with flame from a lighter.
Despite my best efforts I continue to be overrun with fig cuttings. I have a new plan. I’m toying with a hanging epiphytic fig planting idea, just something for fun. Today I settle on a ceramic piece that I’ll use as the main mount, then selected cuttings that will fit the project. Some of the cuttings need more time to root, but it’s coming together.
Before I go to bed, I study my new ficus religiosa. It’s responding well to a recent repot: both to increase pot size and to replace half the organic soil with my rocky bonsai mix. Eventually it’ll need a chop. I consider possibilities.
Monday, July 25: An afternoon thunderstorm saves me a trip to water my outdoor trees. I check on my pomegranates; they still need a few weeks before their next trim.
Recently I restyled my citrus tree into a cascade design that I think works much better than anything I’ve tried before. I’ve never done a cascade, and they’re tricky, so I’m learning as I go. I tilt the pot on a terra cotta saucer to bring its growing tips closer to the LED light.
Tuesday, July 26: I meet up with my friend and neighbor Matt for one of our little mental health walks. We stop by The Queensboro to water the trees, as we do on most trips. My dawn redwood needs a haircut. I’ll pick a Monday when the restaurant is closed and get to work.
Wednesday, July 27: An anxious day. I take a minute to smell the citrus flowers.
It’s cooler today. My outdoor trees can skip their watering. I soak some indoor trees underwater to fully hydrate their tough root balls. More noodling on my hanging fig project. Plucked more extraneous buds from my water jasmine.
At night, I research. Some multi-year growth progressions of water jasmines on bonsai forums and examples of the trees in the wild.
Thursday, July 28: More rain. I skip the restaurant.
Once a citrus flower drops all its petals, it starts to set a tiny green fruit. Fruit growth diverts energy from new branches, so I spend a lot of time checking my calamansi for baby fruits to pluck. If you like popping zits or picking scabs, it scratches the same itch. Flower growth diverts energy too, but what’s the point of growing a calamansi tree if you don’t smell the flowers along the way?
My tea plant is developing flower buds, which could be good news or a sign that the plant thinks it’s dying. I’m choosing to act as if it’s the former.
Friday, July 29: Around 1 am, I head to the kitchen for a drink of water. I’ve gotten pretty good with refilling this new pitcher; I can tell by sound when it’s time to shut off the tap. Plenty of time to snoop for more citrus babies. I pluck two and return to bed.
Tree reading
One in five California redwoods has died in the past two years. The National Forest Service announced an emergency plan that includes thinning brush and regular prescribed burns. [Grist]
Queer theory for lichens, a critique of heteronormativity's role in evolutionary theory! [Journal of Critical Environmental Studies]
Max
The hanging epiphytic fig planting sounds fantastic. Do it!
And the Queensboro gathering is looking wonderful!