by Michael Rusnak
No doubt, everybody loves dead wood—at least is seems that way.
Deciduous trees of course are another matter. On many species, such as grape, it rapidly rots away. Rotted areas can create interesting hollows along the trunk that can add great character. However when live sections become small, the rot can lead to a total collapse.
No doubt, everybody loves dead wood—at least is seems that way.
Juniper and other evergreens can retain their deadwood for a lot of years, especially when given the typical lime-sulfur treatment.
Deciduous trees of course are another matter. On many species, such as grape, it rapidly rots away. Rotted areas can create interesting hollows along the trunk that can add great character. However when live sections become small, the rot can lead to a total collapse.
The two concord grape vines
in my collection are examples of where the trunk was to the point that it only
had a few live veins, and despite the fact that I work with the vines a lot
over the last couple of years, the difference in the color between what is live
vein and what is dead on the grape is hard to distinguish. The colors are just so similar—and there is
that paper-like peeling that the trunk gets each year that again makes you
wonder what is alive on the plant.
At the beginning of this season
while repotting the vines, the trunk of the smaller grape collapsed. This trunk had a large hollow that was a visible
and interesting feature. I watched
helplessly as it crumbled away, leaving a kind of half-shell look to the trunk,
still kind of interesting, but not nearly as awesome as it had been. I felt like crying. The thing that you have to learn to deal with
if you work with bonsai, is that because it is a living thing, you can work
with a tree for years, and then lose it in a heartbeat. I think of the winter a
few years back when I lost three maples that I had for 18 years, maples that
the preceding season were becoming specimens.
This magnificent grape was one
of my favorites, and it was obvious that for the large grape, disintegration
was imminent.
The problem is that the vine
itself was in danger of collapse. So there
was a choice: let the vine just disintegrate and see what is left, or do
something to try to preserve the beautiful undulations, movement, spiraling
grain patterns and hollows that are all present on the old trunk. So I choose
to try to preserve this wonderful trunk.
On the smaller grape, I
slathered outdoor wood glue onto the inner side of the now completely hollow
shell of the trunk (See photo at left). This
did serve to help give it some structure, but not very well.
Having worked on some natural
wood slab tables, where epoxy is often used to fill and control cracking, I decided
to try to use an epoxy on the trunk of the larger grape. I put it on in small batches, trying to press
it deeply into the cracks and openings all along the dead portion of the
trunk. Over an hour or so I had covered
most of the dead wood. The epoxy
hardened nicely and it did give the dead soft wood some rigidity, perhaps even
preserving it for a few more seasons.
Since then, I found a suggestion
to try using penetrating epoxy In the book Bonsai
from the Wild, by Nick Lenz. I
noticed via the internet, that this is a marine product and is sold in large quantities,
as it is typically used to cover portions of boats. If you work with a lot of deciduous trees it
might be useful to make the investment and keep some penetrating epoxy on hand.
In any case, I think the
result was a better alternative to letting the wood disintegrate. Beyond the
wonderful shape of such trunks, when I look at such an old tree, the dead
portions of the wood, complete with its twists, movements and hollows are its stories—and
it tells those stories visually. They are
a kind of record of each year, both wet summers and droughts, as well as what
it has endured at the mercy of animals, disease and severe weather. In
that sense it is something important, something to keep and not just rot away.
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