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Fall Delights Line The Walk To The Mailbox
The past several days of incredibly wonderful sunny hours have
frequently lured me outdoors. In fact I haven’t simply walked
the 950 feet along our driveway to the mailbox to fetch the daily
mail – I’ve carefully photographed my way to the mailbox. My
usual round-trip mail-hikes of around ten minutes now take
upwards of a half-hour or more with my trusty little digital
camera in hand.
Our two-mile hikes along the nearby gravel road have also
become considerably longer in duration and more leisurely than
our ordinary brisk, conditioning, aerobic-pace. I think it’s the
reds and oranges, plus combinations of the two, that have
attracted most attention. Several staghorn sumacs, a few
reaching upwards of 15 feet, have had their drooping rich red
leaves brilliantly lighted by the late afternoon sun, a favorite
time for our walks.
Their deep wine-colored cone-shaped fruits, sometimes called
bobs, are quite tart to the taste. Small hairs covering the
fleshy pulp contain malic acid identical to that found in unripe
apples. History tells us that American Indians were fond of the
flavoring and gathered great quantities of the bobs in late
summer before rains has washed too much of the tangy flavor away.
They dried them for winter use and very likely bruised the fruit
in water and then sweetened the liquid with maple sugar.
Deer are extremely fond of the winter twigs and break off many
of the small rather soft velvety covered branches in their search
for food. This is one of their favorites. The fine hairs of the
new stems resemble the early summer antlers of the male deer --
hence the name "staghorn sumac" has arisen.
A number of species of songbirds and a few gamebirds also eat
the winter fruit of the staghorn sumac, birds including the
American robin, eastern bluebird, dark-eyed junco and ruffed
grouse. Chipmunks also relish the velvety maroon bobs while
cottontails favor the young twigs.
People who enjoy the texture and color of wood will marvel at
the great beauty of staghorn sumac. The light bleached-out
appearance of the outer surface of the dead twigs conceals a rich
golden wood. Its shimmering color reminds me of that of a
handsome chatoyant gemstone, the African tigereye. This form of
quartz enclosing thousands of tiny fibers produces, when
polished, shifting patterns of dark and light as the stone is
slowly moved back and forth. A sanded and varnished
cross-section of the sumac wood tends to react the same way.
We treasure an apple box, made entirely of staghorn sumac,
that our friend Freddie Kodanko meticulously constructed for us
in past years. A feature of the twigs and branches of sumac that
one must understand is that they have soft pithy centers, and the
presence of this pliant material must be taken into account when
using this wood for carving or for constructing simple
implements.
I can clearly recall the staghorn sumac that my dad planted
along the north side of our front door entrance to our home in
Kewaunee. Dad had a very good eye for attractive fall color in
the landscaping of our property and also introduced a euonymus
(you-ON-i-mus), also called burning bush, right next to the
sumac. Another plant that he usually had growing in an adjacent
flower-bed was salvia, one of the purest reds in a flower I’ve
ever seen.
You might know that we too grow a good-sized clump of the
tall, rich red salvias in front of our south-facing patio where
they receive full sunlight. It’s usually in October that these
favorite annuals put on their best and most brilliant show.
I have no idea why our red zinnias appear to be among the last
of several colors to bloom, these and the deep pink, one of which
now measures 57 inches to the tallest blossom. What I do know is
that they have helped to attract one of the best showings of
painted lady butterflies that we’ve witnessed in quite a few
years.
Two reds of various shades have caught my attention along our
driveway in recent days, the changing color of the leaves of the
red oak and the wild blackberry. The texture of these leaves is
also very interesting, from the smooth reflective sheen of the
oak leaves to the pebbly and velvety surface of the blackberry
foliage.
Few other trees in North America can match the staghorn sumac
for overall interest and beauty of form, the food it provides
wildlife at a time when it is very challenging to obtain, and its
dazzling rich red leaf color each October. There is little
wonder why the reds of the autumn scene are so heart-warming and
eye-catching.
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