It seems that most people cannot help but plant trees whenever they have an opportunity. Over years, the settlers of Capitol Hill have cut down and replaced countless trees — native old growth firs and hemlocks turned to introduced oaks, ashes, elms, and maples. These new residents are mostly deciduous — but have you ever noticed that not every one of them drops their leaves?
They say nature abhors a vacuum. The typical understanding of this is that if there’s an opportunity to be had, some species will jump in and give it a try. Another similar way of thinking of this is that if there’s an adaptation to be had, some species might give it a go. Sometimes we might not know exactly why something is the way it is, but boy, do we like to equivocate when we aren’t quite sure. In this case, the focus of our equivocation are trees that demonstrate marcescence.
The root of this word tells a tale (as most words do if we bother to follow their trail) — marcere, is a latin word that refers to something drooping or withering. This is quite descriptive of a desiccated brown oak leaf still hanging on the tree that grew it, months after others have been shed, attached but no longer alive.
A tree demonstrating marcescence keeps some, or all of its leaves attached throughout the winter. Continue reading


