Those trees growing in my yard: Anchorage edition

A few people have requested a post about the native trees in their yards. There aren’t that many trees and large shrubs native to the Anchorage area. If it’s tall and growing in your backyard and you want to know what it is, you’ve come to the right place. Or if I missed one, you all will let me know.

 

1. White spruce, Picea glauca. The shaggy Christmas tree in high heels. If it doesn’t lose it’s leaves in the winter and it’s a tall, native tree, the answer is spruce. Usually quite a bit taller than wide, especially with age. Needles are shades of green, sometimes with a bluish cast.

 

2. Black spruce, Picea mariana. The ugly stepsister of the white spruce. It’s charms are somewhat, shall we say, subdued. Well, I would be too if I had to grow in a swamp. If it looks scrawny, spindly, and half dead and it’s growing in a low, poorly drained spot, it might be a black spruce. Doesn’t get as tall as the white spruce.

3. Cottonwood, Populus trichocarpa. The one that grows about 8 feet a year and drops twigs, branches, leaves, etc. at any time and for any reason. If it’s “snowing” in July, it’s a cottonwood. Last year, the air was thick with little white fluffs for several days. Trees are either male or female. Do not park your Ferrari under this one on a regular basis unless you were going to have it repainted anyway. Other cottonwoods call Alaska home. Do think twice about planting this.

4. Birch, Betula spp. A couple of different varieties of the tree forms, but for our purposes, just birch. Hosts monster aphid parties every year, has white, peach, gray, brown or any-combination-thereof-colored bark. If there is a new pest in town, it will move into the birch hotel for a stay. Keep this one watered if you plant it or things can get ugly…real ugly. Sometimes a very respectable yellow gold leaf in autumn.

 

5. Willow, Salix spp. We have scads of kinds, from wee baby willows to big daddy willows. If the bark has been sampled by the moose on a yearly basis, then it’s probably a willow. In fact, one sure way to tell (besides the silver, furry catkins covering the branch tops in March) if it’s a willow is the 45 degree angle of the trunk or branch where it’s been snapped over by said giant ungulate. Leaves usually longer than wide, sometimes remarkably so, bark gray.

6. Alder, Alnus spp. The shrub that is too big to be a shrub. When I think shrub I think 8 feet max, though I realize this is not true and the dividing line is around 30 feet botanically. If it has 6 trunks instead of one, that’s a clue. Also the lenticels on the bark, sort of light colored marks that function like pores. Check for itty bitty pine cone looking things that are in fact called female catkins (or cones, or conelets, take your pick). If your kid wants to climb the almost diagonal limbs of some 30 foot shrub, it might be an alder.

7. Red Elderberry, Sambucus racemosa. Definitely a moderately sized shrub, not really in the same category as the big ones, but it has annoyed me so much this spring that I am including it in the hopes some of you have chainsaws and less than tender hearts. Leave this one alone if it’s in an out of the way spot or you enjoy yearly pruning. I had two in my last garden (planted by robins, not me) that made spectacular informal hedges with yearly trimming.

 

With great age (which for this shrub counts as about 15 years) can become a tough, sprawling monster, but branches only a year or two old are easily breakable. Kids adore making scepters, swords, and buggy whips from the younger wood. I have been whipped a few times while hauling brush and yes, it does hurt. One of the first shrubs to leaf out in the spring, white flowers, wood smells unpleasant if broken or bruised. Robins eat the berries but you shouldn’t.

I have been busy in the yard, have you? Or did I miss any common native Anchorage trees?

PSA: Contaminated manure or compost?

In case Alaskans were feeling lazy with all the (extremely belated) beautiful weather, this hot tip will keep us on our toes. The Operations Manager at Anchorage Soil and Water Conservation District, Mr. Ryan Stencel, cautions us:

“As we finally get into spring, be careful on your source of manure or compost for your garden-there are several confirmed contaminations statewide, including here in Anchorage. Be sure your supplier doesn’t use Aminopyralid/Clopyralid…. And for those using these products, please follow the label carefully, including not allowing any contaminated products to leave your property (hay, manure, compost, or dirt).”

He was kind enough to include a link to an article in the paper that will (to use the lingo of my kids) freak out every gardener in the Greatland. Check it out, if you dare. And scrutinize the provenance of that compost. Your taters will thank you.

Now back to your gardens!

Springtime in Alaska…or not

I try not to ponder the great mysteries of life too often. For example, what if the traffic light is green but no cars are moving? Is the traffic light really green? More importantly, will those two containers of ice cream in the trunk melt by the time it truly is? Such musings only lead to despair, disappointment, or in extreme cases, the need to get the car professionally cleaned.

In that vein, calendars officially state spring begins on March 20. (The state of Alaska needs a good attorney, at the very least we could get the calendar companies on fraud.) I should know better after all these years in the hinterlands, especially since the snowplow came by on Saturday. And as I glance out the window (tip: never do this while writing about springtime in Alaska, things will turn out ironically) I note that it has started snowing. So those advertisements encouraging me to buy capri pants are especially galling.

My “public service announcements” practically write themselves because Alaska needs explanation. We are different. Weird. (I would say freaky, but it’s a matter of taste.) So here goes. Calendar companies, pay attention!

It is only springtime in Alaska when:

1. the buzzards come home to roost. Or in reality, since we have no buzzards, the Canada geese honk their way into town. I saw about 100 today, winging their way north in a V-formation (or maybe a giant, malformed “W”).

2. the scent of manure rises. I’ve written about this before, and I’ll probably grouse about it again. Scoop your poop, dog owners! Freshly revealed by the melting snow, partially mummified canine feces litters street sides, sidewalks, and trails in my town. I am walking or biking around it like a boat trying to avoid a minefield. SOS! Full starboard! Blech!

3. dipnets are for sale again. Saw them at Sam’s Club last week. See you in July, you rascally salmon, you.

4. potholes the size of Luxemburg appear in the roads. Bye bye transmission box. So long, right front wheel. On a positive note, the winter studded tires get changed out for a supple summer set.

5. people forget how cold it really is outside. I mean, who needs sleeves, let alone a jacket? Clearly not that gentleman I saw entering Wal-mart on Friday in a tank top. Never mind that it’s 30° Fahrenheit and the snow is still covering the ground. The calendar said it’s spring, so there will be exposed flesh.

5. the motor homes awaken from their long winter’s nap and begin to hold up traffic by driving approximately 20 miles per hour less than the speed limit. When the traffic light turns green (see first paragraph), the driver counts to ten, texts mom, then accelerates. Sort of. I think they sign a contract about it.

6. winter boots feel like overkill, but summer shoes would be ruined. I do not have the answer to this problem. Some wear rubber boots (XtraTufs are a cult), others do the Dansko clog thing, and some even go straight to flip flops. Well, you know what grandpa says, “You can’t fix stupid.”

7. the first summer adventure trip is planned. We are rafting the Tazlina River this summer. Also the Gulkana. Definitely Kenai. Another sign it’s spring: over scheduling.

8. the first garage sale sign appears. Hallelujah, it’s spring! Pursuit of “the good deal” is almost as popular as pursuit of the salmon.

9. sunglasses are needed at 7am. 

10. garden ads are heard on the radio. Nurseries are open for those fuchsia starts. Game on! (I got carried away with myself just now. No game for a couple of weeks at least. Sorry about that. Keep those plants indoors for a bit longer.)

So you see, dear calendar companies, planetary cycles notwithstanding, spring is not spring in Alaska until…it is. Or at least until you are parked for a couple of minutes at a green light. Until then we call it winter.

 

Seen any capri pants lately? Has spring arrived?