The best time to plant a tree is yesterday

Four weeks ago we took down a big section of our 21-year-old wooden fence. Back in 1998, it was in tune with the gardening zeitgeist: an elegant six-foot white-stained construction with vertical slats on the bottom and a section of lattice on the top. For the first few years it looked great.

The wooden fence in 2004, bright and new

    In retrospect, though, I wish I’d chosen something less conspicuous. Soon the weather, acid rain, and tannins from overhanging oaks stained it gray, and frequent wetting by the irrigation system speeded the onset of rot. Sections started to lean crazily. For a while, we could salvage the fence’s integrity with reinforcing metal posts set in concrete. This year I noticed growing gaps between the posts and the panels of slats.

    Replacing the ornamental wooden fence would be prohibitively expensive—just disposing of the rotten fencing cost plenty. So with some trepidation, I opted for an unobtrusive black chain-link fence instead, a big change. Where our view of two neighbors’ yards had been blocked, it’s now open.

The same area as above: beautyberry in front of the new fence

    My plan was to plant some evergreens that would gradually screen our view through the fence and give the neighbors back their privacy. Accordingly, I started looking around for reasonably priced shrubs and small trees. Fortunately it was time for end-of the-season sales. 

    Did I choose all natives? Well, no. I was looking for shrubs or trees that would tolerate some shade and not grow too tall. I didn’t want to repeat my usual mistake and in 10 years find my vegetable and insectary beds languishing in deep shade from full-sized conifers.

November 2018: lots of trees means lots of shade

    A couple of years ago I’d planted two evergreen natives along this fence: an arborvitae said to grow to no more than 14 feet (Thuja occidentalis ‘Smaragd’) and a mountain laurel (Kalmia latifolia).

Smaragd is Old English for emerald

    This fall I was proud of myself for extracting a dwarf Alberta spruce (Picea glauca ‘Conica’) from its ceramic pot. Alberta spruce is a North American native from Canada and the northern states. It had been effectively living as a bonsai, trapped in its container for five years unable to grow tall. 

The dwarf Alberta spruce, left, in its pot, May 2018

With my formidable Japanese hori hori digging knife, I hacked away at the circling roots and managed to pry the plant loose. 

No one will mess with me when I'm wielding my Japanese digging knife

After some radical root pruning, I planted the spruce along the new fence, where I hope it will have a happier life.

The spruce in its new home

    What I ended up buying was another ‘Smaragd’ arborvitae, another dwarf Alberta spruce, and two dwarf Hinoki cypresses (Chamaecyparis obtusa ‘Nana Gracilis’ and C. obtusa ‘Tetragona Aurea’) whose ancestors hail from Asia. So of the seven evergreens along the fence, all but two are North American natives—a sustainable-enough solution, I thought.

Dwarf Hinoki cypress 'Tetragona Aurea' brightens the fence line

    It’ll be a long time before the new and relocated trees recover from transplant shock, start growing, and fill in the space between them to create a meaningful visual screen. Meanwhile, I’ll enjoy the extra light and the open feeling that comes with our new fence.

Take my sustainable gardening course Saturdays October 26 and November 2, and you can judge the young trees for yourself. Sign up here through Newton Community Education.