Thief, Poisoner, Killer
The walnut tree is a thief. It lurks at the back edge of my garden, stealing the water, nutrients, and sunlight my more sensitive plants need. A couple sprays of rosemary skirt the drip line of the tree, and a solitary purple salvia explodes from the detritus of its toxic leaves, as if to say, Look, nothing can kill me!
I have not protected my flock of plants, I have left them vulnerable and suffering. A. visited the garden a few weeks ago and we sat, of course, in the shade of the walnut tree where I learned about the intentions and machinations of this shadowy figure. She asked if it was, in fact, a walnut tree and then taught me about juglone. Well, a mystery solved. Why, after eight years of attention spent growing the soil of this space, a large swath in the back corner of my garden failed to produce anything heartier than a few strawberry plants, the reckless salvia, and a feverfew plant I suspect would thrive in the ocean if it had to.
Juglone. A chemical produced by the walnut tree (and, if you are interested, pecan and hickory trees as well) that is found in the roots, leaves, and nuts and prevents growth in plants up to 50 to 80 feet away from the tree itself. Here, a pause for my own ignorance and the gentle guidance of a friend with far more knowledge than I. May we all have a well-rooted friend who knows the peculiarities and particulars of a place, and without judgement, fills us in when we forget to even ask the question.
Now, I cannot see the tomato plants (here I nearly called them “my tomato plants” but we all know they do not belong to me except in my gardener fantasy), apple tree, pear tree, roses and think “Oh, poor dears, being stripped of everything you need and expected to survive it, to feed me.” Their yellowing leaves make more sense now. And it relieves me of the guilt that I had not perfectly titrated their watering or compost or some other element I have not even considered. It is merely that this lurking giant steals from them and then poisons them to add insult to injury.
I would like to learn, or remember, how to know when something is my fault and when I am just lacking the right information, not asking enough questions. The walnut still lurks. Calls must be made, money must exchange hands, a few people with chainsaws will arrive. In an act of cruelty of its own, I will kill the walnut tree to save the others. Is this the right thing to do? I don’t know, and yet, I will. In the meantime, I scout the garden for walnut saplings growing from the stores of walnuts the squirrels bury and forget about. My shovel buried beneath their thick hulls, I lever them out of the dirt, toss them in a bucket that will be tipped into the trash to keep the poison from leeching into the compost pile. The many selfish things I will do for a tomato.
