Refugium

If you’re reading this and you’re not out in a garden enjoying daffodils, then well, I don’t know what to tell you. The chill that rimes the morning, the donning and shedding of layers to keep pace with prevernal energy flows, the anticipation and outright joy that follows the time change and we get our hour back and we’re not driving home in the dark.

Certified arborist Geoffrey Neal takes on the harmful (and hideous) practice of topping off crepe myrtles in an interstitial edition of “Refugium.”

As I’ve noted more than once, being able to name the plants around you is kind of a superpower. At the very least, it allows one to enjoy a deeper level of kinship with the other living things that share one’s living space.

I love a good holly tree. Especially as the woods around me begin to senesce and undress (as is their autumnal wont), I find some comfort in the echo of summer that the splashes of green convey.

This is the fourth in a series on Downtown Chapel Hill trees, each a guided stroll around some of the most storied and stunning residents of our community.

I’m a plant person now, and have been giving tours of the Coker Arboretum for a while and have even led a campus walk in winter once or twice, continuing in the steps taken by William Lanier Hunt and Ken Moore. Follow along, if you’d like.

This time around, we’re going to start on the south side of the street, mainly because those are the trees I managed to get more pictures of when I took my first slow walk along this section of streetscape. Let’s take that walk again, together.

Each year, there is a ripening, a swelling of excitement within the group of folks who follow the media around the horticultural arts, specifically, the wonderful world of native plants.

What makes a plant native? First principles, right? I was raised up on axiomatic thinking. Define first, then deduce. Reason begets all beauty. Or something like that.

The trees I’m showing you today were not the trees the older cats who I drank with at the Carolina Coffee Shop 30 years ago took a moment to pause under perhaps to steady themselves for the slow amble home.