by Leslie Renjilian
Well, that title is a little misleading. It really should read:
Tree of Last Month: The Sourwood by Leslie Renjilian
...but last month's newsletter was a little heavy on trees already and MailChimp keeps warning me that our newsletters are too long. The Mail Chimp Artificial Intelligence Bot sends me messages like: "Skimmablility was good, but your email will take the average reader 11 minutes to read. Let's try to get that down to 45 seconds."
Hopefully that means that AI is not as omniscient as we feared because it clearly underestimates our readers. But even I (a human) knew better than to add another tree article to the October newsletter so I saved this beauty for November. I took the photo above on October 28 of this year and the one below on July 9, 2021.
Common names for the Oxydendrum arboreum include the Sourwood, Sour Gum, Sorrel Tree, Arrowwood, Lily-of-the-valley-tree and Bee Gum. As you know, common names always contain hints about the tree's unique properties, so take your time and try to figure out what they could be. It is interesting to note that this is the only species in the Oxydendron genus, and is not naturally found on any other continent.
The sourwood in the photo above at the Hall of Philosophy was planted in 1994 by the BTG and it has thrived here, which is somewhat of a surprise given that we are about 150 miles north of the native range and Chautauqua's climate is particularly harsh.
Sourwoods are known for their absolutely beautiful fall color and this one was on full display in Chautauqua in October.
Native Americans used sourwood wood to make arrow shafts, and used the nectar and sap to treat diarrhea, dyspepsia, mouth ulcers, lung diseases, and asthma.
Sourwoods flower later than most trees—in late June/early July. The flowers are lovely, tiny things that look like lilies-of-the-valley and are fragrant and nectar-laden, the by-product of which is a delicious, hard-to-find honey.
If you are not familiar with the nature writer, Donald Peattie, I urge you to you check out his book, A Natural History of North American Trees, from Smith Memorial Library (a gift from the BTG). Originally published in 1950, the book is a more of a love letter than a tree guide. The author tenderly describes over one hundred tree species in the 470 page book and I almost hold my breath when I check the glossary for a particular tree, preparing myself for disappointment in case the tree I'm hunting is not included.
Michael Pollan wrote this about the book: "Each of these deeply knowledgeable and beautifully written profiles brings another species to life."
Googling coveted items and having them appear on your doorstep a day or two later is a marvel, however this bit of advice written by Mr. Peattie about how to procure sourwood honey may make you yearn for the days of yore. Settle in, read it slowly and think about the Before Times and an afternoon like the one he describes instead of a quick search on your phone.
When autumn comes, the foliage turns a gorgeous scarlet or orange or crimson, doubly welcome because the Sourwood in general grows outside the range of the Sugar Maple and the Aspen and takes their place in the South. Then especially in the southern Appalachians where Sourwood grows 50 and 60 feet tall is the season to set out on foot, or on horseback, or in your car, to buy Sourwood honey from your country neighbors. Some of them put out little signs along the roadside, but all you have to do is to watch for a row of “bee gums" not far from the farmer's house. For if the southern farmer has hives at all, he has Sourwood honey for sale. Fortunately the blooming period of Sourwood is just after the fading of Mountain Laurel and Rhododendron whose honeys are poisonous. Their honey the beekeeper throws away, but he is very careful to store his Sourwood honey, for it is the finest, in the opinion of many epicures, in the southeastern states and is not surpassed even by the most tangy sage honey of California.
Sourwood honey is medium light in color, of heavy body, and slow to granulate. An average flow of as high as 75 pounds per colony from Sourwood has been recorded. Usually the local demand takes the entire crop at prices above the open market, so that Sourwood is a honey like some of the choicest wines of the vineyards of Europe — that is, it practically does not appear upon the market at all and can be had only by those epicures who will journey far to partake of it. One buys Sourwood honey as one buys any such rare product from its producers - not in a commercial spirit, paying for it and carrying away the wares - but with all the due ceremony observed between a collector and a creative artist. You ride up to the cabin door; a woman appears at the barking of the hounds, with children peeping out from behind her skirts and mountain courtesy requires that you begin, not by stating your business but by telling where you come from. Then you assure her that she has a "right pretty place"; you praise her portulacas, her turkeys, and so, across the landscape, you arrive at her bee gums. Then you ask if she likes Sourwood honey as much as you do. You tell her that you would go far to obtain a little if only you could find somebody who would give up a few pounds of it. When the honey is produced, as it certainly will be, you accept it before asking the price. This will be shyly stated. You may safely pay it for your haggling was all done, by indirection, in your previous parley. And you are paying no more than a fico for nectar and ambrosia.
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