Within Fagus grandifolia, the American beech tree, as the millennia-old processes of spring try to get under way, an unwelcome guest is disrupting things. The nematode that causes the new beech-leaf disease overwinters in its buds; the foliage that would normally emerge in May downy and chartreuse with crisp geometry like Art Deco ornamentation will instead arrive gnarled and weak. The losses that seem destined to come to the Beech Forest make one appreciate what we have, while we have it, all the more.
On a recent walk, the sun, at its highest point in the sky since September and now not obscured by leaves, was brightly reflected off that paper-smooth skin, illuminating the winter grandeur of the tree for which the Beech Forest was named: white-gray bark that somehow is made of a dozen colors at once, copper leaves that refuse to fall, and tan buds arranged on branches like thorns.
