Another year, another few bonsai pictures (2022)

This past year, I’ve continued my habit of snapping a shot of my dwarf horse chestnut tree at the beginning of each month. This tree, which I planted as a conker in 1986, is now 58% of my age – another percentage point gain over last year in the race towards the end game. A race that I’ll almost certainly lose, as these trees can live for three hundred years. It has a pretty good chance of overtaking me.

Taking, again, a leaf out of Ellen Hawley’s book, I’ll begin with an irrelevant photo…

My back garden after the first big snowfall dump here in years, 12Dec2022

… except that it’s not entirely irrelevant, as you can probably see; so sue me. Ellen’s an irrelevant photo utilisationiste par excellence, whereas I’m merely a beginner.

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

Don’t ask me why the later photos are taller. Perhaps I unwittingly toggled some config option on my dumphone’s camera; or it may have been caused by a silently applied software ‘upgrade’.

I found that round tuit I was looking for last year; my little tree was repotted in the Spring (as you can probably see). The new growth shows that it appreciated that, and a local ant colony turned up and clearly seemed to enjoy the fresh shoots. (I wonder what they were up to?)

Another non-irrelevant photograph

But, still, no flowers. I asked DuckDuckGo ‘Why are there no flowers on my horse chestnut tree?‘, and discovered that Aesculus hippocastanum tends to bloom, and produce conkers, from about four years of age. Some, however, may not flower, for a number of reasons such as fungal blight and gibberellin (I have no clue what that is) production deficiency. Even if the tree is sterile (it might be), that wouldn’t stop it flowering. As my tree is now 36 years old and it’s never once flowered yet, perhaps it never will. I live in hope.

Here’s hoping you’re enjoying a pleasant Yuletide wherever you may be, and wishing you peace, phun, and non-bankruptcy (‘prosperity’ having now been relegated to a distant dream for all but the ludicrously wealthy) in the new year. Cheers – or, as the Klingons say, ‘IwlIj jachjaj!