Royal Paulownia

If you look closely, you’ll recognize this tree from our winter time explorations around the farm, here in eastern Pennsylvania. In winter, I referred to this then-mystery tree as the “water tree,” owing to the babbling sound it made in the wind, with the empty seed pods clapping on the branches. We saw some growing through the bank farmhouse as well.

This tree is in fact called a Royal Paulownia, also referred to as the Princess-tree or Empress-tree, and it bears big, upright clusters of purple flowers. We missed the golden opportunity to see these flowers in action this spring, as I failed to visit the trees until the flowers were all but gone.

What you can see now are the broad, beautiful, heart-shaped leaves which adorn this tree, and the swelling seed pods of what used to hold fragrant, purple petals.

If you’d like to see what these flowers look like, and learn a little more about this tree, you can check out the article, Miracle Trees : Part I, Royal Paulownia by Missouri Environment and Garden (pictures are at the end of the article).

Trees consume the bank farmhouse

According to my landlady, these are the remains of what was once an enormous bank farmhouse. By “bank” farmhouse, she means that it was built into a bank, which slopes upward to connect with the silo seen in the last image.

This house was originally at least four stories tall, with I don’t know how many rooms. It must have been an amazing sight to see! Now, the remains of the farmhouse are overrun with great tall trees, including several of the “water trees” of which I spoke the other day. [Eventually I'll get you their common identity].

Sadly, this house was destroyed in a fire many years ago. I’m not sure what has caused all the stone to fall, except for continual erosion. Clearly there is a lot of history in this house, and I hope to learn more as I live here. The big old tree, I am told, is a linden tree; like the farmhouse, it was much much grander before being destroyed in the fire.

Walking through and around this house reminds me of when we visited the ruins of Nim Li Punit in Belize. The great city still boasts incredible stone structures, but all throughout the ruins grow ENORMOUS trees which have consumed what was once a thriving community.

I wonder if the inhabitants of this house ever dreamt about the trees that would one day grow through the very rooms in which they slept, and ate, and gathered. I almost feel as though I am trespassing when I walk through these ruins, and for the most part, I walked around the perimeter only.

At times, it seemed like I could hear their voices in the stone. Perhaps it was merely the chatter of the clack-clacking water trees on the wind. It’s amazing to see how their roots have taken to growing along the mortar, as if feeding off the stone itself. I think that the trees took this opportunity to do what they do best: reuse materials to make something new.

Water tree

When the wind blows, this tree sounds like a bubbling spring. The hulls of the nuts in the upper branches clack together and give the illusion that there is a little spring near by singing its heart out. [I included the second two pictures just so you could see the nut-hulls a little better].

As a matter of course, there are in fact several springs around the property. Some are hiding underground, others have been concealed with the surrounding development, and I believe that a few others are trickling their way through the trees, lost to all but the secretive deer.