1985 - Collecting a Large Cedar for a Bonsai Future. by Norman Haddrick The Toronto Bonsai Society has a long, interesting history, and when I joined in 1969, there were only about 25 members, meeting in a small classroom at the Civic Garden Centre. In those days, there seemed to be a lot of emphasis on plant propagation, by seeds and cuttings, which is a good way to study the fundamentals of botany, and there was never a shortage of plant material to start as bonsai. Small to medium sized bonsai were the major trend. During that same period, I was also keenly interested in X-Country trail walking, canoeing and backpacking. The newly opened Bruce Trail, meandered 433 miles from Niagara to Tobermory, and gave us access to some rugged areas of Southern Ontario, where I first saw the evidence of the environmental impact on the growth of trees in exposed areas. I was able to recognize, in the shapes and characteristics of these exposed trees, the bonsai forms emulated by the Japanese Bonsai Masters, and to better understand nature's creative process. By 1985 the Society was at a high peak of activity, and new and old members joined in collecting trips to these rugged areas, "up north, beside a lake." On one trip, with John Walton and Reiner Goebel, we were in an area I had walked many times, revisiting trees like old friends, and grand examples of driftwood, created by the driving winds and abrasive action of winter pack ice. And one particular "old friend", admired for years; on each visit wondering if it had survived the winter. At 53"/ 134cm tall and with a spread of 60"/ 203cm wide, it was 'way too big for bonsai.' Wait a minute, who said so? Had we not seen, on our visits to Japan, wonderful examples of bonsai up to 65"/165cm tall? On an impulse, I decided it was time to take this ancient tree home. The terrain, at this particular location, is exposed, limestone rock, with pockets of humus in hollows and crevices where plants find a place to set down roots. For several months of each year, only the snow cover prevents total desiccation of tree structures. Above the snow, there is continual loss of upper structures, from wind, and the weight of snow and ice pack. As I set about my collecting task, John and Reiner went off to seek their own treasures. Reiner however, kept coming back with his camera, to record my progress. This tree, Arbor vitae, is Thuja occidentalis, commonly called 'Eastern white cedar', though it is not a true cedar, Cedrus, of which there are no species native to North America. The top is a detailed sculpting in driftwood, the branches windswept by the year round winds. The trunk circumference is 85% stripped of living bark. The dramatic structures, colours and textures of this driftwood, created in nature, are highly prized. On the sheltered, southeast side of the trunk, a live vein of bark feeds the living branches. Around the base of the trunk, several younger 'trunks' grew from the root system. I began by cutting away these " to 1" / 17mm to 32mm trunks. Later, measured samples showed these to be of 40 to 54 year old growths, all winter protected below the snow level. Typically, in these areas, the soil in which the trees survive is created from their own leaf casting, plus other debris blown into the tangled base. I cleared away a 4' 0" / 122 cm trench around the trunk, and the base flare of the trunk became visible. As did a large rotted cavity in the 'back' at ground level; a perfect winter shelter for small, hibernating rodents. I chose, logically I thought, to cut a section of root-ball mainly from below the living vein. Major pruning quickly released the trunk from the largest, lateral roots, and as Reiner returned for an update picture, I was able to raise the shallow root ball clear of the rock surface. Working alone in these remote areas, in early spring, all you can hear is the soughing of the wind, the lake lashing the rocky shore, and the panting and grunts of your own efforts! It is amazing; even in the zero temperatures, how easy it is to break into a sweat at this kind of work. Now, I carefully and tightly, wrapped the root ball in wet burlap, and several layers of black garbage bags, with strong twine all around to hold the soil/root mass together. This is of critical importance, to stabilize the roots for transportation. After 3 hours of careful work, I was ready to carry my prize back to the car. At home, I weighed this precious bundle at 58kg/128lbs., and I removed 7kg/15lbs of rock, which I didn't need to carry home. Another lesson learned the hard way! I potted the tree into a half-barrel, using a granular bonsai soil mix. My plan was to repot into a bonsai container in the spring of 1987, but the first, one metre /40" long Tokoname-Yaki bonsai container, was broken in transit. Another was ordered, and it arrived by the spring of 1988. A local TV Garden Show host, with a film crew, came to film the repotting process in my back garden. Reiner and I worked together, amazed at the density of the new root mass since collection. The half-barrel was completely root bound. The repotting went without a problem, giving us a newfound respect and admiration for these ancient trees. Here we are 18 years later; this bonsai continues to grace my backyard, and though it is too heavy to appear at our bonsai shows, it is still admired and respected daily. Doubtless, if left in nature, "for others to enjoy", as advocated by some, this tree would no longer exist. That area is now swept clear, down to the bare rock, by receding lake ice, many years ago. This is true for many of the ancient specimens collected from those marginal survival, or lakeside cottage development areas. I have only two other, much smaller, Thuja in my modest bonsai collection. The pleasure from sharing some of my life with these durable, old specimens, has taught me a great deal about the strength and resilience of this indigenous specie.