WHOSE WOODS THESE ARE...

Rex Burress

Behind the Oroville PGE building on Huntoon Street where I paid my bill, I noticed a nice redwood tree rising from the shadows of a thicket.

I had passed by many times and never singled out the tree to shake hands with, but I plowed in through the thicket and grasped a welcoming limb just to recognize its place in life and muse about its root-home. It rather represented all redwoods even though I haven't seen all of them.

I cherished that moment with a new-found friend. I squeezed some leaves and sniffed deeply of the coniferous flavor, and for a split second fell into a misty-morning trance in the Oakland Hills where the stalwart sentinels are found in abundance, thriving on the summer fogs that drip to the feet of the forest giants. Even though they are evergreen, there is a constant fallout of leafy twigs under any redwood to make a soft mat of invitation.

With the Bay Area being a favorable environment, there was a two-by-five mile swath of great Sequoia sempervirens draped over the hills in what is now Joaquin Miller Park, where giants up to 32-feet in diameter grew in the mid-1850's. On the summit “Trail of the Giants,” there is one marked 'fairy ring' of 32-feet, and other durable stumps tell a story of the entire “San Antonio Grove” being cut for lumber in less than ten years. Today, a secondary forest has risen with the protection of the park and the “Save the Redwoods League,” but it will take about 2,000-years for them to become giants.

Oroville is not the proper place for redwoods, since they are dependent on surface moisture for their shallow root systems, and the hot summers and drought are not conducive to that need. Yet, quite a number have been planted throughout town where lawn watering has previously kept them alive. Since the drought, they are more stressed, and some have died. There are several near the Oroville High School campus, a struggling row at Trinity Presbyterian Church, and singular trees at Lott-Sank Park, a couple at the city square, and some others along the streets. As beautiful as they are, they are a poor choice to plant in Oroville.

There are a couple of nice redwood groves in Bidwell Park, especially in John's experimental forest, now the “Trail of Trees,” that includes some introduced novelties like Chinese zelkova, Spain cork oak, and Italian cypress. But you won't find redwoods out in the wild, hot foothills, although other native conifers thrive there by going deeper for moisture to survive, most notably, the gray pine, or Pinus sabiniana, alias digger pine.

Higher in the Sierra mountains the Sequoia gigantea species of redwood has adapted to flourish in a couple places and become bulky monsters over 3,000-years-old.

The nature of redwoods is universal, and any of them will give you the restful greenness of evergreen foliage, a characteristic aroma, and a vision of strength from a small beginning. The tiny, thumb-sized cones of coast redwoods presents a seed not much larger than a grain of sand, yet that seed gives them the power to grow taller than any other tree on earth.

The redwood I sniffed in Oroville reminded me of memorable redwood retreats that I have explored along the Pacific Coast. Foremost is Muir Woods National Park, and farther north, hugging the coast, is the crowning Redwood National Park.

One of my favorite redwoods is found deep in the Mayacamas Mountains west of St. Helena, CA, straddling a spring-fed stream deep in a narrow-wooded canyon where pileated woodpeckers and bobcat and handsome rattlesnakes live. I named it “Red Treasure Creek” for the massive boulders of red jasper that had been born of volcanoes and jammed into the canyon by earthquakes long ago. The particular tree had a great root that crossed the creek, and the everlasting flow gurgled over water-carved sculptures, chattering musically as it trickled into a small pool. A big trout lived there, taking refuge under the burl-root. I imagine that tree is still there in paradise. I hope so.

“I often come to this quiet place/To breathe the airs that ruffle thy face...” --Bryant