trees

It’s that time of year

Tu b’Shevat is a popular day to go into the fields and plant saplings. (photo from usa.jnf.org)

‘In Israel, just before the Hebrew month of Shevat, the landscape begins to change. It has been winter; the fruit trees bare, their leafless, light grey branches silhouetted against dark clouds. Then, as Shevat is ushered in, they begin to bud, and reddish leaflets burst forth. Fields that have been covered with pale crocuses, white narcissus and cyclamens give way to red anemones, tulips and broom bushes starred with flowers. And the almond trees burst into blossom – the first harbinger of spring. It is at this time we celebrate Tu b’Shevat, the 15th of Shevat, which is known as the New Year of the Trees.

Tu b’Shevat, which falls this year on Jan. 17, is mentioned in the Mishnah as one of the four “natural” new years. The first of Nisan is the “new year for Jewish kings and seasonal feasts”: that is, for calculating the reigns of Israelite kings and determining the cycle of calendar festivals. The first of Elul is the new year “for tithing cattle” and the first of Tishri is the new year for calculating septennial cycles and 50-year jubilees.

The new year for the trees was moved from the first of Shevat to the 15th in accordance with the opinion of Rabbi Hillel (30 BCE – 10 CE), for it is then that the sap begins to rise with the full moon, in Israel’s fruit trees. The Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmuds also designate Tu b’Shevat as the date to calculate taxes on fruit: “You shall tithe all the yield of your seed, which comes forth from the field year by year.” (Deuteronomy 14:22)

During the days of winter, Israel’s fruit trees are dormant. It is wet and cold and, because of the low temperatures, the trees cannot absorb the nutrients from the soil. But, regarding the 15th of Shevat: “Till this day [the trees] live off the water of the past year; from this day on, they live off the water of this year.” (Jerusalem Talmud, Rosh Hashanah 1.2)

This date is the start of the fruit’s formation. Arabs also mark it, calling it “the second ember,” when fruit trees begin to absorb water. According to Arab folklore, there are three “embers,” which began as fire falling from the sky and changed to caterpillars. The first falls from the sky when the earth begins to warm up; the second when the warmth spreads. They follow this with a third “ember,” as summer begins.

Tu b’Shevat is one of Judaism’s popular celebrations that does not involve special synagogue services. It is a day when it is customary to eat the fruits of Israel: apples, almonds, carobs, figs, nuts and pomegranates. Many scholars stay up late on the eve of the holiday, reciting biblical passages dealing with fruits or the earth’s fertility. They read from Genesis how trees were created along with all the plants of the earth; from Leviticus, the Divine promise of abundance as a reward for keeping the commandments; and from Ezekiel 17, the parable of the spreading vine, symbolizing the people of Israel.

Kabbalists hold a special seder for Tu b’Shevat and they celebrate, not so much the new year of the trees, but the New Year of the Tree, meaning the Tree of Life, which is rich with mystical connotations. At the seder, they drink four cups of wine, beginning with white wine and ending with red, with the second cup a mixture more of white and the third more of red wine. It is rather like how the landscape changes from white (the pale narcissus and crocus) to red (anemones and tulips) as Tu b’Shevat approaches.

Tu b’Shevat is a popular day to go into the fields and plant saplings. Over the last several decades, Israeli schoolchildren have helped Keren Kayemeth, the Jewish National Fund, plant 130 million trees, many of them on Tu b’Shevat, and these evergreens have become the backbone of the reforestation program.

Tu b’Shevat affirms that the soil of Israel is holy. And the New Year of the Trees reminds us annually of the wonder of God’s creation.

Dvora Waysman is a Jerusalem-based author. She has written 14 books, including The Pomegranate Pendant, which was made into a movie, and her latest novella, Searching for Sarah. She can be contacted at [email protected].

A Methuselah update

Methuselah’s roots go back to the time of Masada, and even earlier. (photo from Arava Institute)

For many years, in anticipation of Tu b’Shevat, I have written about a date palm tree in the Arava that fascinates me – Methuselah.

Methuselah’s relatively new beginnings can be attributed to London-born Dr. Sarah Sallon, director of the Louis Borick Natural Medicine Research Centre at Hadassah Medical Centre, and California-born botanist Dr. Elaine Solowey of the Arava Institute for Environmental Studies at Kibbutz Ketura.

According to Sallon, “in 2005, we were interested in rejuvenating lost flora of Eretz Yisrael. One of the lost flora is the Judaean date. I was discussing with some scientists about their work, trying to extract DNA from ancient seeds.” Sallon asked, “If we had ancient seeds, why couldn’t we grow them?”

From 1963 to 1965, archeologists Yigal Yadin and Ehud Netzer excavated the fortress Masada, which was built by King Herod between 37 and 31 BCE and was home to almost a thousand zealots until the Romans breached the wall in 72 CE and found the bodies of the Jews who had lived there and killed themselves, rather than being taken as prisoners. At the site, Yadin and Netzer found date palm seeds, which were subsequently stored at Bar-Ilan University.

Sallon asked Netzer for a few seeds, and received five. She took them to Solowey, who took three of the 2,000-year-old seeds and planted them in January 2005. Other seeds were sent to the University of Zurich, in Switzerland, for radiocarbon dating. They were also tested to see if they had anti-bacterial, anti-viral, anti-cancer, anti-fungal, anti-malarial, anti-oxidant or other medicinal properties.

The date palm is one of the best medicinal trees. Domesticated more than 6,000 years ago, it can be male or female, and produces dates. Medicine of the date palm has been used for lung disease, colds, heart disease, hair growth and other things.

After eight weeks, in 2005, one seed successfully germinated and was named Methuselah, after the biblical person who was said to have lived 969 years.

Initially, the first leaves had white spots because of a lack of chlorophyll. At 15 months, the seedling was transferred to a larger pot. After 26 months, the plant showed normal development.

In 2011, when its exact location was being kept a secret, I was permitted to see a photograph of Methuselah. At the time, it was two metres high and in a “protected quarantine site,” due to its scientific and financial value.

In April 2011, a white flower appeared on the inner part of the tree, indicating that Methuselah was male. In 2017, there was hope for Methuselah to be bred with a female tree to produce the same date variety that was common in ancient Judea.

In December 2019, Solowey sent me an update on Methuselah – he had grown to four metres tall. Also during that year, Solowey had gotten six ancient date seeds from archeological sites: “Adam” from Masada; “Jonah,” “Uriel,” “Boaz” and “Judith” (or “Yehudit’) from Qumram; and “Hannah” from Wadi Makukh, a winter water channel in the Judean desert surrounded by high cliffs and containing a number of caves that were surveyed from 1986 to 1989.

Early that December, Methuselah was pollinated by Hannah and Solowey cultivated 111 semi-dry dates, “really nice, big, blondish, semi-dry dates from her with a honey aftertaste.”

In March 2020, Hannah flowered, and Solowey told me: “we are thinking of making a genetic line from Hannah.”

At the end of November 2021, Solowey wrote to me again. She said, “Well, we got 600 beautiful dates from Hannah (whose seed was 175 years older than Methuselah’s seed) this September. We planted Yehudit, another female, on Sukkot. We are considering tissue culture. I have two males still in the greenhouse.”

Sybil Kaplan is a journalist, lecturer, book reviewer and food writer in Jerusalem. She created and leads the weekly English-language Shuk Walks in Machane Yehuda, she has compiled and edited nine kosher cookbooks, and is the author of Witness to History: Ten Years as a Woman Journalist in Israel.

Trees bring Zack to life

Michael Seelig is donating the proceeds from his exhibit Trees to the Zack Gallery. (photo by Olga Livshin)

Trees, Michael Seelig’s new solo photography exhibit at the Zack Gallery, opened last week. It is a fundraiser for the gallery, which is located in the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver.

Such philanthropic initiatives “are of ultimate importance to the gallery and the community, as everybody wins when the gallery is well-supported,” said Zack director Linda Lando. “We have approximately three benefits a year, and they come in different ways. Sometimes, they’re initiated by the artist, sometimes by myself or another staff member of the JCC.”

Seelig’s decision to donate all the proceeds came from the heart, and it’s not the first time. His previous show at the Zack, which was held five years ago, was also a benefit. “This is my way of contributing to the JCC,” he said in an interview with the Independent. “We have a longstanding connection to the centre. My wife was president of the JCC some time ago, and we’ve given several donations to the community over the years.”

Unlike his previous show, which focused on architectural images – Seelig was an architect before he retired – this show is all about trees. A cornucopia of greens dominates the gallery walls.

“When Linda asked me to do a show this year, I didn’t have much in mind,” he said. “I started going through my photographs, selected the best 20, and then realized that eight of them were photos of trees. Looking back, I’ve always photographed trees. Maybe I have an affinity for trees. So, I thought I’d make it the theme of this entire show.”

photo - “Garden Kyoto” by Michael Seelig — “Garden Kyoto” by Michael Seelig.

Seelig has been drawn to trees and their unique charm for a long time. “I think my love of trees comes from my childhood, when I was growing up in Israel,” he said. “Jewish people are the only ones I know who have a holiday dedicated to trees: Tu b’Shevat. During that holiday, we cherish trees, plant them, take care of them, so they can take care of us. That tradition probably influenced me from a young age to love trees and photograph them. I take photos of trees wherever I travel.”

In the Zack exhibition, there are pictures of trees from Israel and Scotland, Canada and Japan.

“There is a book I read recently,” Seelig said, “called The Hidden Life of Trees, by Peter Wohlleben. He is a German forester and writer and he knows trees. He says trees form communities. They communicate with each other and with us. It was a fascinating book, and I agree with the author; his book inspired me. Have you noticed that old stumps sprout new growth sometimes? That is because there are other trees around. Trees are life-givers; they create the air we breathe. Without trees, there would be no life on earth.… In Canada, and particularly in British Columbia, we often take trees for granted. Most of us do not pause to look at them and admire their beauty, solidity and permanence. We forget that, without trees, our planet cannot survive. This show pays homage to trees in many parts of the world.”

Seelig’s trees are all different; each one has its own shape and personality. Some are gnarled and twisted, while others stretch up in straight lines.

“I like it that they don’t talk to me,” he joked. “Trees are my models, but they’re more obedient than people when it comes to posing for a photo. I can take my time snapping pictures of trees. They are perfect photography objects. A tree just stands there. You can walk around it, see it from 360 degrees or from underneath. And every view is different. You can’t do this with a person.”

In addition to Seelig’s photographs of trees, the show includes several watercolours, most of which he painted specifically for this exhibit. Only two small works are exceptions. “When I was looking through my archives in preparation for this show, I found a small painting, created by my father in 1940. He painted a street in Haifa, and there is a tree in the image. The second painting is mine; I painted it in 2010, also in Haifa. Seventy years passed between these two paintings, but their colour schemes are surprisingly similar. And there are trees in both paintings.”

The sizes of the images on display vary greatly. While Seelig’s father’s painting would fit in a school notebook, and most of the photographs are the perfect size for a family home, a huge triptych on canvas of one of his Kyoto garden photos would enliven a hotel foyer or a corporate conference room. “I invited some designers to the show,” Seelig said. “Maybe one of them would like it.”

Seelig’s approach to photography is consistently organic. He doesn’t edit his photos with Photoshop, doesn’t even crop them.

“My pictures are exactly what I see,” he said. “And now you see them, too. There are other photographers who manipulate their photos with editing software, many of them wonderful artists, but I don’t do that. I don’t call myself an artist either, even though I use my creativity for many things in my life. I used artistic judgment for my work as an architect, before I retired. Now, I make greeting cards and wedding invitations with my photographs and my paintings. I illustrated a couple of children’s books, written by my daughter and her husband. Even making dinner for our friends is a form of art for me.”

The Trees exhibit runs until Oct. 20.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Preserving the environment

According to talmudic sages, “It is forbidden to live in a town which has no garden or greenery.” (Kiddushin 4:12; 66d) (photo by A. Christen)

Many contemporary Jews look upon Tu b’Shevat as a Jewish Earth Day, a day for contemplating our ecological heritage – and the multitude of threats our planet currently faces.

An ancient midrash has become all too relevant. “In the hour when the Holy One, blessed be He, created the first person, He showed him the trees in the Garden of Eden, and said to him: ‘See My works, how fine they are. Now all that I have created, I created for your benefit. Think upon this and do not corrupt and destroy My world, for if you destroy it, there is no one to restore it after you.’” (Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7:28)

Today’s environmental threats can be compared in many ways to the biblical 10 plagues, which appear in the Torah portions read on the Shabbats immediately preceding Tu b’Shevat. When we consider the threats to our land, water and air – pesticides and other chemical pollutants, resource scarcities, threats to our climate, etc. – we can easily enumerate 10 modern “plagues.” Unfortunately, like the ancient Pharaoh, our hearts have been hardened by the greed, materialism and wastefulness that are at the root of these threats. And, in contrast to the biblical plagues, modern plagues are all occurring simultaneously, and there is no modern Goshen as a refuge, where most of these plagues do not occur.

The talmudic sages express a sense of sanctity toward the environment: “The atmosphere [air] of the land of Israel makes one wise.” (Baba Batra 158b) They assert that people’s role is to enhance the world as “partners of God in the work of creation.” (Shabbat 10a)

The rabbis indicate great concern for preserving the environment and preventing pollution: “It is forbidden to live in a town which has no garden or greenery.” (Kiddushin 4:12; 66d) Threshing floors are to be placed far enough from a town so that the town is not dirtied by chaff carried by winds. (Baba Batra 2:8) Tanneries are to be kept at least 50 cubits from a town and placed only on its eastern side, so that odours are not carried by the prevailing winds from the west. (Baba Batra 2:8,9)

“The earth is the Lord’s.” (Psalms 24:1) And we are the stewards of God’s earth, responsible to see that its produce is available for all God’s children. Property is a sacred trust given by God; it must be used to fulfil God’s purposes.

The story is told of two men who were fighting over a piece of land. Each claimed ownership and bolstered his claim with apparent proof. To resolve their differences, they agreed to put the case before the rabbi. The rabbi listened but could come to no decision because both seemed to be right. Finally, he said, “Since I cannot decide to whom this land belongs, let us ask the land.” He put his ear to the ground and, after a moment, straightened up. “Gentlemen, the land says it belongs to neither of you but that you belong to it.”

The prohibition not to waste or destroy unnecessarily anything of value (bal tashchit, “thou shalt not destroy”) is based on concern for fruit-bearing trees, as indicated in the following Torah statement:

“When in your war against a city you have to besiege it a long time in order to capture it, you must not destroy its trees, wielding the ax against them. You may eat of them, but you must not cut them down. Are trees of the field human to withdraw before you under siege? Only trees that you know to not yield food may be destroyed; you may cut them down for constructing siege works against the city that is waging war on you, until it has been destroyed.” (Deuteronomy 20:19-20)

This prohibition against destroying fruit-bearing trees in time of warfare was extended by the Jewish sages. It is forbidden to cut down even a barren tree or to waste anything if no useful purpose is accomplished. (Sefer HaChinuch 530)

The sages of the Talmud made a general prohibition against waste: “Whoever breaks vessels or tears garments, or destroys a building, or clogs up a fountain, or destroys food violates the prohibition of bal tashchit.” (Kiddushin 32a)

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, a 19th-century philosopher and author, states that bal tashchit is the first and most general call of God. We are to “regard things as God’s property and use them with a sense of responsibility for wise human purposes. Destroy nothing! Waste nothing!” He indicates further that destruction includes using more things (or things of greater value) than are necessary to obtain one’s aim. (Horeb, Chapter 56)

It has become customary to recite psalms on Tu b’Shevat, among them Psalm 104. This psalm speaks of God’s concern and care extended to all creatures, and illustrates that God created the entire earth as a unity, in ecological balance:

“You make springs gush forth in torrents; they make their way between the hills, giving drink to all the wild beasts; the wild asses slake their thirst. The birds of the sky dwell beside them and sing among the foliage. You water the mountains from Your lofts; the earth is sated from the fruit of Your work. You make the grass grow for the cattle and herbage for man’s labour, that he may get food out of the earth, wine that cheers the hearts of men, oil that makes the face shine and bread that sustains man’s life.” (Psalm 104:10-15)

Tu b’Shevat is indeed an appropriate time to apply Judaism’s powerful ethic of reverence for God’s creation, conservation and sustainability, to help move our precious, but imperiled, planet onto a sustainable path.

Richard H. Schwartz, PhD, is professor emeritus, College of Staten Island, president emeritus of Jewish Veg and president of Society of Ethical and Religious Vegetarians. He is the author of several books, including Judaism and Vegetarianism and Who Stole My Religion? Revitalizing Judaism and Applying Jewish Values to Help Heal Our Imperiled Planet, and more than 250 articles at jewishveg.org/schwartz. He was associate producer of the documentary A Sacred Duty: Applying Jewish Values to Help Heal the World.

The beauty of creation

In Israel, Tu b’Shevat is a day for planting saplings. (photo from JNF via israel21c.org)

“Keep a green tree in your heart and perhaps the singing bird will come.” This lovely quotation is not from our sages, but is an old Chinese proverb. Nevertheless, it seems appropriate for Tu b’Shevat, the New Year of the Trees, which falls this year on Jan. 21.

Of course, we have our own Jewish sources. For example, “When you see handsome people or fine trees, pronounce the benediction, ‘Praised be He who created beautiful things.’” (Tosefta: Berakot 7:4) Trees have a great significance in Judaism and, long before “ecology” became a popular word, Jews were commanded, even in times of war, when besieging a city, to not destroy its trees. (Deuteronomy 20:19)

Trees were sacred to many people. Pagans believed that gods inhabited them and took their forms. They were druidic, rising out of the earth and tossing their hair. They cooled, sheltered and calmed. It is easy to understand reverence for the splendor and dignity of trees, but only Judaism has a new year for them, which falls on 15th day of the Hebrew month of Shevat (Tu b’Shevat).

In Israel, this date once marked the time from which to count the age of the tree for reasons of tithe or taxes, and also to indicate the maturation of the fruit of the tree. Even today, fruit cannot be eaten until the fourth year, so Tu b’Shevat standardizes the birthday of trees.

The holiday doesn’t commemorate any great historical event, and there are no special prayers in the synagogue. It is a lovely time, ushered in by blossoming white almond trees with their promise of warm summer weather.

Tu b’Shevat is traditionally a time for planting every variety of tree. The Talmud mentions “the joyous planting” on happy occasions. There was a delightful custom of planting a cedar when a boy was born and a cypress sapling at the birth of a girl. When a couple married, the wood of the trees would be used as poles to support the wedding canopy.

In Israel, it is a day for children and teens to go with their teachers into the hills and valleys and plant tens of thousands of saplings. There is also a custom to eat all the fruits of Israel – olives, dates, grapes, figs, citrus, apples, bananas, nuts and pears, which grow in great abundance.

Many scholars stay up late on the eve of Tu b’Shevat, reciting biblical passages dealing with the earth’s fertility. They read from Genesis how trees were created along with all the plants; from Leviticus how the Divine promised abundance as a reward for keeping the commandments; and from Ezekiel 17, the parable of the spreading vine, symbolizing the people of Israel.

Many people hold a special seder to celebrate the holiday, the New Year of the Tree of Life. They drink four cups of wine, beginning with white wine and ending with red, with the second cup a mixture more of white and the third more of red wine. It is rather like the landscape, as it changes from white (pale narcissus and crocus) to red (anemones and tulips) as Tu b’Shevat approaches.

As well as being a birthday, Tu b’Shevat is also a day of judgment for the trees, which ones will thrive and be healthy, which ones will wither and die. Chassidim pray for the etrogim, that they may grow in beauty and perfection for Sukkot.

Planting trees is very significant for Jews, the indestructible people for whom faith in the future is almost an emblem. We plant trees whose fruit we will not eat and in whose shade we will not sit. The one who fears that the world will end tomorrow or next year does not plant trees.

As well, Tu b’Shevat affirms that the soil of Israel is holy. The people and the land have a mystic affinity in Judaism, and the New Year of the Trees reminds us every year of the wonder of God’s creation.

Groves in their honour

Belkin Forest Grove was dedicated in Baal Shem Tov Forest on March 27. (photo by Lilah Weiss)

On March 27, Keren Kayemeth LeIsrael-Jewish National Fund held a special event in memory of JNF Canada friend and philanthropist Elliot Belkin. About 20 family members arrived from Canada for an organized tour of Israel during Passover. As part of their trip, they traveled to the north of Israel for a special ceremony honouring Belkin’s contributions to KKL-JNF.

When Belkin’s father, Morris, also a generous donor, passed away, Belkin created a forest grove in his memory in Biriya Forest, and brought his nephews, Kostia and Aurore Belkin, to Israel together with him. When Belkin passed away, his nephews continued the family tradition by donating a forest grove in his memory in Baal Shem Tov Forest.

“Aurore and I thought that it would make him very happy that there would be a forest grove in Israel in his name, and that’s why we’re here today,” said Kostia Belkin. “This is a modest gesture compared to what he did in his time, but we’re happy to be part of the tradition.”

The Belkin nephews unveiled a plaque honouring their uncle, and were presented a framed KKL-JNF certificate of appreciation. After the ceremony, the group planted cedar trees in the young forest grove.

About half the trees in Baal Shem Tov Forest were damaged in 2013 by a heavy snowstorm. New species of trees are being planted to ensure greater diversity, making the forest more resilient against weather damage.

Referring to the ceremony and tree planting, Belkin’s family said, “This has been one of the high points of our visit. These trees are like the children that Elliot never had.”

Kostia Belkin summed up the visit to Biriya Forest: “This has been an event that we will always remember,” he said. “We want to express our thanks to KKL-JNF for organizing this visit. Through their deeds, Morris and Elliot taught us about love of Israel and its people, and the symbolical meaning of planting trees in this soil.”

Willow and her brother

When the breeze from the forest fanned her branches, Willow could almost hear the gossip of the blue jays and the news of her old friends. (photo by Rob Hanson via Wikimedia Commons)

On Tu b’Shevat, when we look down at Mother Earth, instead of up, to find the Creator of All, the rabbis like to tell the story of Willow.

Once, many Tu b’Shevats ago, a young tree named Willow grew in the forest. The wind that cooled the forest in the summer and carried the gossip of the blue jays had brought her seed to this shady spot in the forest.

It was not the best location, since it was next to a much older oak tree, who towered over Willow like a big brother. He was so high and leafy and strong that most of the birds chose him as a nesting place; Willow only had a couple of caterpillars, who lived in one of her leaves. But, what bothered her most was that this jolly green giant blocked most of her sky.

“If I had three wishes like you get in fairy tales, I’d wish for an open spot on the meadow, an open spot on the meadow, an open spot on the meadow,” murmured Willow when the wind blew through her leaves. This little tree didn’t want any big brother blocking her sun and rain.

All summer long, Willow twisted and bent to find the sun. Trees need sun like we need love, or they dry up and die. But that tall oak decorated with birds’ nests blocked the direct rays. Only pale yellow fingers of light touched Willow. And, when fall came and most of the trees began their six months of rest, Willow slept poorly because huge acorns rained down on her from the heavy limbs of the oak. Like hail they fell. Each one could rip off a leaf. After this hailstorm of acorns, she dozed. But not for long, for soon a blizzard of leaves from the giant Oak overwhelmed her. They piled up on the forest floor almost taller than her. She could barely breathe.

What bad luck, thought Willow. “If only my seed had landed in that open spot over by the brook,” she mused, “I could have all the sun I wanted and only the sweet rain, not acorns with pointy ends, would fall upon my leaves and roots.”

Willow didn’t know how lucky she was to have a big sheltering friend. Young trees who tried to grow in open places were often washed into the brook by the rainstorms. And, when it didn’t rain, the sun burned them up and turned them into dead, dry sticks. And, without a big tree to shield you from the wind, one wild blast and you could lose every leaf you own.

As Willow continued to doze the fall away, she was awakened suddenly one day from her favourite dream in which lightning toppled the big oak, bird nests and all, and left a big, blue, empty space in the sky. She heard voices – happy, laughing voices of children.

Before Willow was fully awake, these children, with the help of a sharp shovel, had pried her roots from the earth and dumped her in a wagon. What an experience. Lying on her side, her roots all exposed. The movement made her dizzy. Soon, she was well out of the forest – even past the brook.

Eventually, the wagon stopped and the children put her back into the earth. Her new home was their backyard.

She was the only tree in the yard. The sun and the rain and the stars were all hers. At night, she could look up and see every star in the sky twinkle down on her. Better yet, during the day, no leafy branches blocked her sun. “This is living,” thought Willow, smiling up at the warmth. “If only I had a few bird nests, life would be perfect.”

But soon she began to miss the big oak – the sun was awful hot. And, when the clouds came to block it, that meant rain would follow. A little rain tasted good, but sometimes the rain turned the backyard into a swamp that suffocated her roots. She was scared. It was no fun being the only tree in the yard, thought Willow.

It was lonesome, too. There was nobody to talk to except the telephone pole on the street. And he just made a shrill noise in the wind. What could a dead telephone pole say to a young tree? But, when the breeze from the forest fanned her branches, she could almost hear the gossip of the blue jays and the news of her old friends.

As the years passed, something happened that the other young trees in the forest had whispered about. Willow grew seeds, and the willing wind soon carried them away and one of them happily arrived at the very spot where Willow had lived – beneath the giant oak.

The oak kept the sun from burning the new willow up. He gently filtered the rain and never let the wind pull at the little sister that grew under the shelter of his limbs. Big brothers aren’t all bad.

Ted Roberts is a freelance writer and humorist living in Huntsville, Ala. His website is wonderwordworks.com.

How trees adapt to conditions

The Weizmann Tree Lab, left to right: Dr. Tamir Klein, Ido Rog, Yael Wagner, Omri Lapidot and Shacham Magidish. (screenshot from wis-wander.weizmann.ac.il)

While studying trees during his postdoctoral fellowship, Dr. Tamir Klein made such a startling discovery that his research supervisor at the University of Basel at first declared that it must have been a mistake. In the forest, trees are known to compete for resources such as light and nutrients, but Klein found that the same trees also engage in sharing: he showed that carbon molecules taken up by the canopies of mature spruce trees were passed through the soil in large quantities to neighbouring beech, larch and pine. As he reported in Science in 2016, the carbon was being transferred via “underground highways” formed by overlapping networks of root fungi.

“Neighbouring trees interact with one another in complex ways,” said Klein. “Of course, there is a great deal of competition among them, but they also form communities, sorts of ‘guilds,’ within which individual trees share valuable resources. In fact, trees belonging to a ‘guild’ usually do much better than those that don’t.”

In his new lab in the Weizmann Institute’s plant and environmental sciences department, Klein follows up on these findings to investigate tree ecophysiology: how the tree functions in its ecosystem.

“Studies on ‘underground’ tree collaboration may reveal which tree species get along well, and this may help determine which trees should be planted next to one another,” he said. “Our studies have additional relevance to forestry and agriculture because we elaborate on the mechanisms of growth and drought resistance of different tree species.”

Only five percent of Israel’s land is covered by forest, but the country nonetheless offers unique advantages for forest research: its hot, dry climate provides an opportunity for investigating how trees adapt to drought and stress. Many trees common to Israel are already resistant to drought; understanding the mechanisms that allow them to live with little rain may help develop varieties of lemons, almonds, olives and other tree crops that can grow in even drier areas.

image - A micro-computer tomography scan of a Jerusalem pine branch, performed after a dry spell, reveals large amounts of air (blue) filling the water channels — A micro-computer tomography scan of a Jerusalem pine branch, performed after a dry spell, reveals large amounts of air (blue) filling the water channels. *(image from wis-wander.weizmann.ac.il)*

Projects in Klein’s lab aim to clarify how trees manage their water and carbon budgets – both separately and as a forest community. In one study, the team focuses on emboli: tiny air bubbles that form inside the tree’s water channels during drought. When drought persists, the emboli can kill a tree, much like blood vessel clots that can cause a fatal heart attack in a human being. After injecting fluids into tree branches at different pressures, Klein and his students analyze the emboli in the minutest detail, using micro-computed tomography.

In Weizmann’s greenhouses, Klein’s team members experiment with seedlings of pine, cypress, carob and other trees commonly found in Israel. The researchers make use of advanced technologies, including nuclear magnetic resonance imaging, to study hydraulic conductivity in trees and a special lamp-equipped belowground camera to study the growth of tree roots in the soil.

When conducting field studies on their research plot near Beit Shemesh, Klein and his students hug trees – not to have a spiritual experience, but to follow a tree’s growth by encircling the trunk with a measuring tape. In parallel, they apply laser isotope analysis and analytical chemistry techniques to trace carbon metabolism in individual trees, and they investigate carbon transfer among trees via different types of fungal “highways.” The scientists also employ thermal imaging, which enables remote temperature measurements, to study the rate of evaporation in the foliage.

These studies will help predict how future climate changes, including global warming and the rise in greenhouse gases, may affect forests. In one set of experiments, for example, Klein will double the concentration of CO₂ to mimic the atmospheric conditions that may emerge on earth as a result of pollution. Klein hasn’t owned a car in 10 years, so as not to contribute to CO₂ emissions, but he warns against jumping to conclusions when it comes to the impact of increased CO₂ on tree biology. “Higher CO₂ concentrations don’t help trees grow faster – contrary to the hopes of industrialists – but, surprisingly, recent research suggests they might render the trees more resistant to drought-induced stress. This doesn’t mean it’s OK to carry on with CO₂ pollution, but it does mean that we need to deepen our understanding of its effects on trees in general and on agricultural tree crops in particular.”

Klein is the incumbent of the Edith and Nathan Goldenberg Career Development Chair. His research is supported by Nella and Leon Y. Benoziyo; and Norman Reiser. More on Weizmann Institute research can be found at wis-wander.weizmann.ac.il.