It’s time for another intermittent meditation on homeness, my *evolving-yet-elusive* notion of home. (How could something that at the outset struck me as so obvious, so universal, so easily defined have lead me wandering into wrinkle after wrinkle of wonder?!) Today I take a dive into  ginkgo and walnut in so far as they both pertain to my association with home. As often, I offer you a caveat lector: these are notes, still unmortared and, at best “dry stacked” so that I may step back a few paces to consider the view. In hopes of refreshing the flow of ideas pertaining to homeness, let’s prime the pump with a pair of earlier thoughts on ginkgos.

Familiar patterns and cadences help define homeness, I think. Ferry rhythm and holidays, seasonality and consoling habits of Susan and Carley. There’s something at once exciting and soothing, and invigorating and reassuring about… [these] accustomed rhythms and rituals. Cyclical beginnings and endings, arrivals and departures, sowing and harvesting, thawing and freezing, waking and resting,… And, in my case, anticipation is an especially attractive aspect of these familiar happenings. Which brings me back to ginkgo tree leaf drop. Any. Day. Now! (Source: Ginkgo Tree Leaf Drop)

Woven into the texture of Rosslyn’s seasonal ebb and flow, the goldening and falling of the gingko’s unique fan shaped leaves.

This morning I awoke to see the Gingko (Ginkgo biloba) shedding it’s fan-shaped leaves. First I noticed the golden carpet ringing the tree trunk, and then I headed out and stood underneath the boughs to hear the last tumbling gingko leaves. (Source: The Day the Gingko Leaves Fell)

I hope this hint at the annual wave of euphoria might invite deeper consideration. Why?

Ginkgo Tree and Leaves

At root, I suspect that my interest in the ginkgo is rooted in its beauty and in its real and mythical resilience. Our ginkgo tree itself, old and gnarled, limbs removed by windstorms and snowfalls, is a monument to endurance and perseverance. Towering and proudly showing the ups and downs of its century and more thriving to the north of our home, the gingko invites an upward gaze even when leafless as it is now. When those leaves, what few remain, are blown around, appearing serendipitously. The fan-shaped leaves of the ginkgo are easily recognizable and highly valued for their aesthetic appeal. In the fall, they turn a brilliant golden yellow, creating a stunning visual display. Age and endurance are at the root of my interest.

Ginkgo (Ginkgo biloba L.) is one of the oldest living plants and a fascinating example of how people have saved a species from extinction and assisted its resurgence… [From] multiple anthropogenic introductions of ginkgo from eastern China into different continents… [to] bioclimatic variables that have affected the geographic distribution of ginkgo and the role of natural selection in ginkgo’s adaptation and resilience… [The ginkgo offers unique insight into a] living fossil species. (Source: Nature Communications)

This living fossil that transcends time offers a botanical rhyme for Rosslyn. Coupled with longevity, memory.

Ginkgo has a long history of use in treating… memory issues. It is best known today as way to potentially keep your memory sharp. (Source: Mount Sinai)

A bridge across the ages, a bridge across a lifetime, the past enduring, refreshed, revitalized. Vitalized.

The ginkgo leaf and tree symbolizes many diverse and unique religious and cultural values going back to ancient times. It makes sense that the beautiful fan-shaped, delicate leaf of the ginkgo has presented itself as a popular motif in art throughout the last 20 centuries…  Most notably the ginkgo has been used as a symbol of peace, hope and vitality and also as a symbol of love and duality. (Source: UVM Tree Profiles)

Beginning to see why this wonderful plant provokes my admiration? Why it is woven into my notion of home?

Ginkgo biloba is particularly important in the cultures of China… [where] there is strong evidence that some ginkgos in China are more than 1000 years old. Religions in all three countries viewed ginkgo as a sacred tree and a symbol of resilience, health and longevity. (Source: Seattle Japanese Garden)

And I’ve run out of time to examine the beauty of the leaf, the leaves. The two conjoined lobes, together, conjoined. The fan-like contour and the fan-like texture. A meditation deserving of its own poem.

Black Walnut Tree and Wood

And what of walnut? No black walnut trees (Juglans nigra) grow at Rosslyn. Nor have any of my previous homes been graced by these tasty nut bearing trees. A healthy 25-30 old black walnut tree growing at ADK Oasis Highlawn was unceremoniously snapped from it’s stump a couple of summers ago during a windstorm, and I’ve preserved the lumber for future woodwork projects. But that’s not the the root of my attraction to black walnut. Nor are the delicious nuts (though I love to eat them), nor the fascinating phenomenon of juglone production with allows black walnut trees to handily outcompete neighboring flora. As a gardener, orchardist, and a cultivator of trees, I *am* intrigued by black walnut trees’ soil enrichment tendencies, extending a deep labyrinth of roots into the soil — even compacted, tired ground — and gradually improving the soil’s composition through nutrient cycling. Like ginkgos, black walnut trees — our previously mentioned specimen apparently excepted! — thrive over a lengthy life cycle. It’s not uncommon to discover examples two hundred years or older. So like the ginkgo, there is something reassuringly durable and persistent about these trees. So there’s a common and overlapping rhyme between these two trees, perhaps. But unlike the ginkgo that appeals to me primarily as a living monument to longevity, it is black walnut lumber that beguiles me. This handsome hardwood’s deep, dark hues and rich grain mesmerize me. Whether for cabinetry or furniture, finish carpentry or accessories, black walnut appeals to me in a way that few other woods even approach. Like ginkgo, my affinity for walnut was a gradually acquired taste. It doesn’t reach back to my earliest, most nostalgic notions of home. It came later, and an important and formative influence was my brother’s woodwork and woodworking. But those thoughts for another dispatch on another day.

Ginkgo & Walnut, In Short

Golden ginkgo fan
upon handworked black walnut –
abode’s conjunction. 

In conclusion (though pretending that my meditation is even remotely conclusive is amusing at best), perhaps ginkgo and walnut resonate with homeness for me as placeholders — rich and intriguing placeholders — for the many symbolic elements that consciously and unconsciously coalesce in our individual associations with homeness. Until Rosslyn, no other home I’ve lived in offered a living, thriving ginkgo tree outside the window. And only in the latter half of my life has the wood of black walnut trees become a vital ingredient in the furnishings of an environment where I feel at home. And yet these elements, each enticing and enduring benefactors of seed and earth, water and sun, cultivation and artistry feel like pillars upon which I can imagine supporting a happy, healthy home. Perhaps it’s time to plant a ginkgo and a walnut on the land of our future lakeside home…