Square 86: Ancient white cedars

The oldest trees in Eastern North America are Eastern white cedars (Thuja occidentalis) that grow on the cliff face of the Niagara Escarpment. The oldest live individual so far identified is located at Lion's Head on Georgian Bay; it has 1141 growth rings. Some dead trees have been found with as many as 1653, and some, with pith wood missing, are estimated to have lived 1800 years.

T. occidentalis is a small tree, normally growing less than 20 metres, but the ancient trees of the escarpment are diminutive, stunted by exposure to the elements. Cedars are a favourite forage plant for deer. The cliff is the only place where they are safe from browsers, forest fires and competition from more vigorous trees.

My plant ecology prof in 1986 was Doug Larson. Imagine my surprise to see him appear a few years later in a Canadian Geographic article about the discovery of these ancient cedars, with which he is credited. The story is recounted in a book I hope to get my hands on soon, The Last Stand: A Journey Through the Ancient Cliff-Face Forest of the Niagara Escarpment by Larson and Peter Kelly. Larson was an energetic teacher, compelled with desire to impart the importance of botany to the masses. I don't know how far his enthusiasm spread, but it has certainly affected my life.

Lorraine Roy's quilt, Burning Bush, which hangs in my living room (see square 43), also reminds me of the flora of the Niagara Escarpment. Sometimes it is not the big, impressive things that are most enduring.

Square 43: Lorraine Roy

The last time I saw Mom—we knew she had only a few months to live, but didn't expect it to be our last visit—she gave me $1,000. Two weeks later she died, and I wanted something to remember her by. In a situation like that you learn what you value. I bought a couple pieces of original art, which I could not normally afford.

It was easy to choose the artists. One of my favourites is Lorraine Roy, who makes art quilts depicting the interface between nature and human consciousness. My attention had been drawn a few years ago to a project she did in conjunction with University of Guelph Arboretum: Saving Paradise, a collection of 17 quilts depicting rare and endangered tree species of Southwestern Ontario. It was a subject close to my heart, and a medium that appealed to me.

More recently she has worked several series of quilts to portray tough little trees growing in rugged environments such as the Niagara Escarpment. These pieces speak of the fragility and tenacity of wild habitats, but also of the human spirit. Having hiked many stretches of the Bruce Trail I am familiar with these scenes, and it was one of these quilts I decided to purchase: Burning Bush 8.

I chose to knit this square at a time when I cannot actually see Lorraine's quilt. It is packed along with most of my other belongings in preparation for moving on Saturday. That considered, I'm surprised at how accurately the yarns selected somewhat randomly from my stash pay tribute to colours and textures of "Burning Bush". Had I set out to describe the piece in words, I could not have done as well.

I am beginning to feel that each of these squares is a painting (and Lorraine's work would be appropriate inspiration for that). A picture says things words cannot, and yet the words of this Yarn are also an essential part.

The yarns in this square: purple Cascade, unknown single-ply gold yarn, variegated green and gold Malabrigo, wine-coloured Patons, some interesting rusty purple wool-mohair-acrylic-alpaca Karen by Filtes King I've had in my stash for ages but not used before, deep orange Noro Kureyon, bright orange Létt-Lopi, chocolate Tupa from Mirasol Peru, and a frosted green remnant of another Noro yarn.