Normally, the bare and dormant trees that dot the landscape this time of year are depressing to me. Although it's technically spring, it will be a few more weeks before we start to see more than a few timid signs of plant life up here in Chicago. The brave little crocuses that bloomed last week are now smothered by a blanket of wet, heavy, and unwelcome snowfall. The buds that tentatively started to form on some bushes and shrubs have shriveled up and are falling off, thanks to the late-season freeze; even the hedges are back to square one. Aside from the evergreens, there is one type of tree at cheers me up during these cold, dreary months; the American Sycamore.
Distinctive even in winter, the mottled, paint-by-number bark of these majestic shade trees stands out in almost defiant contrast to the hibernating maples, oaks, and elms. Caused by an inability to expand as the tree grows, the bark cracks and separates before it eventually sloughs off, revealing layered shades of browns, tans, yellows, whites, ecrus, and even pale greens. Rivaled only by the flaky white trunks of the delicate birch, the sycamore is one of those rare trees that commands attention and admiration year round. While the leaves of the sycamore aren't as pretty as maple leaves in the fall or as recognizable as the leaves on most varieties of oak trees, they are distinctive because of their size. On a mature sycamore, the broad, flat leaves can grow to be as big as a human head!
So until the weather turns for good, the flowers are in full bloom and the trees have regained their complete summer foliage, I will continue to rely on the many shades and textures of bark that make up the sycamore's earthy palette to provide some cheery color to an otherwise gray, late-winter landscape.
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