Tree Talk: Pretty Pumpkin Ashes
Nevertheless, they persist
Does beauty follow sadness, or sadness beauty? The Pumpkin Ash (Fraxinus profunda) is a pretty tree, surely, but ashes in our region have a sad companion to their prettiness – the Emerald Ash Borer. Even the pest itself is beautiful, a shiny green gem of a bug which turns hardwood into sawdust so easily for such a tiny thing. You may be familiar with the decimation that the borer has enacted upon our native Green Ashes (Fraxinus pennsylvanica) felling stands and creating desperate nurseries on forest floors across the state. Did you know, though, that the Pumpkin Ash tree is susceptible to the same fate? Like its cousins, the Green Ash and Black Ash, the Pumpkin Ash faces a near 100 percent fatality rate at the hands (mouths, actually) of the Emerald Ash Borers.
What was this tree, though, before its current demise (and what might it again be, one day)? The Pumpkin Ash gets its name from the shape of its trunk, which swells out like a heavy gourd. This is a direct result of its affinity for wet environments, creating some extra stability for the tree's growth in swampy habitats. The tree has a scattered native range across the eastern U.S., reaching north to the southern shore of Lake Erie, where it is uncommon.
In early fall, Pumpkin Ashes produce their version of fruit, samaras, which hang in clusters from their branches and measure in length up to 3 inches each. One might guess that the fall foliage of this tree is strictly burnt-orange and pumpkiny, but in actuality it displays a stunning range of colors including rust-gold, plum-purple, and lemon-yellow. All this prettiness before dropping soft, velvety leaves to the ground and entering a winter dormancy, as all deciduous trees do.
Pumpkin Ashes are a rare sight in the City of Erie, but a decent drive in any direction would reveal the tree to you. I was recently camping in the Allegheny National Forest and saw signs of this autumnal tree. When I looked up, I was met with a glittering yellow-green canopy of beeches, birches, black cherries, and oaks. But when I looked down, to see my feet on the trail or the moss underfoot, I found a sea of new ashes among the Witch Hazel, Sycamore saplings, and adolescent Paw Paws. I hadn't brought my Tree ID Key, and could not tell you which knee-high ashes had taken the chance to regrow around me then, but it was a magical realization either way that these trees would at least try to persist. I like to think that among what is likely many green ash saplings, that in the more wet and be-puddled areas, some pretty Pumpkin Ashes are starting to regrow.
Hannah Rhodes is a volunteer at LEAF and a big fan of trees. She can be reached at hannah@leaferie.org
