In which the editors alternately opine on speculations relevant to the issue at hand.
Robin & Leila

The Mother Tree

In about 1877, before the orchard was an orchard, someone planted an elm tree in the center of the far meadow. It was common practice for early American farmers, from colonial times on, to plant shade trees throughout their fields to provide respite for work horse teams and pastured animals. When my grandfather transformed our farm into an orchard in 1911, planting blocks of apple and pear trees, he left the elm and many of the other shade trees standing; they towered above the steady lines of fruit trees like guardians. When I was sixteen, the tree was about a hundred years old. For hours the tree held my attention as I tried to capture the mystery of it, to draw its likeness with a twig dipped in ink, following the lines of branch and trunk with my eyes. When the drawing was finished, I framed it within in an ivory-colored mat and gave it to my mother.  She hung it on a wall in an upstairs room. Years later, when she could no longer climb the stairs and moved her bedroom to the first floor, she hung the drawing there. When she died I took the drawing of the tree and hung it on the wall in my study. 

I don’t remember why I set out to draw the old elm, or what I was thinking when I drew it. The drawing has a lonely feel which was probably how I felt at the time. The tree held my attention because of what was not known, could not be known, or understood, because of all the questions that circled without answers, not even formulated yet as questions, because there was a feeling, an affinity, a pull, the desire to look again and again, a tug at the heart, or a sudden rip of fear. The tree was a mystery.

In 1997, the scientist, Suzanne Simard, published her first article on tree communication in the journal Nature. The article, which caused an immediate sensation, identified the ways trees in a forest make use of vast underground fungal networks, called mycorrhizae, to trade nutrients.

Her discovery was quickly dubbed the “wood-wide web,” and set in motion years of subsequent research. Now, in a recent book titled Finding the Mother Tree, Dr. Simard details the ways in which these fungal networks do much more than serve as conduits to exchange carbon and photosynthates; they facilitate inter-tree communication. Yes, what used to be considered in the realm of fantasy has now been scientifically proven by researchers like Dr. Simard who spent years labeling trees with radioactive isotopes—trees demonstrate intelligence and tree behavior has cognitive qualities. The word intelligence comes from the Latin verb intellegere, meaning to perceive and comprehend. Yes, I used the right word–trees exhibit intelligence, they demonstrate perception, learning and memory. Trees communicate by sending chemical signals through a fungal network, and these signals, which are created by ions cascading across fungal membranes are not unlike the neurotransmitters that operate in a human brain. Trees relay messages back and forth that include defense signals to warn one another of potential danger. At times they shuttle allelochemicals or poisons through the network if an unwanted tree intruder enters the forest. Perhaps the most stunning of Simard’s discoveries is that elder trees in a forest, what Simard calls “Mother Trees,” are able to recognize tree neighbors that are genetically related, are kin, and they can send more or less resources to their kin, either favoring or disfavoring them.

When I finished reading Simard’s new book, I swiveled around in my chair to stare at my old drawing of the elm, the “mother tree” on our farm that I had drawn so many years earlier. What holds our attention is important even when we don’t understand why. And even if we may never fully understand.

It is May as I write this and here in New England the trees are leafing out again, green and luminous. We bring you our latest issue, curated around the theme of “hold.” When we sent out the call for this issue, as usual we meant for our call to be a spark and a launch rather than a directive. We had anticipated that we might receive some pieces on the theme of holding on, of perseverance during dark times, the months of living through this pandemic. To our surprise and delight, we received a powerful celebration of speculation, of the power of what holds our attention, whether it is the paranormal, a re-imagined memory of fear, or the mystery of a garden.

Welcome to issue #5: HOLD.

Leila Philip, May 20, 2021

Simard, S., Perry, D., Jones, M. et al. “Net transfer of carbon between ectomycorrhizal tree species in the field.” Nature 388, 579–582 (1997).

Simard, S. Finding the Mother Tree: Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest. Knopf, 2021.