Lesson CXCVIII

Ash Trees

Leading thought—The ashes are our most valuable timber trees; the white ash is one of the most beautiful and useful of them all. It does not make forests, but it grows in them, and its wood is of great value for many things.

Method—The pupils should all see the tree where it grows. The questions should be given to them for their field note-books. The lesson should begin in the fall and be continued in the spring.

Observations—1. What is there about the bark of the ash tree which distinguishes it from other trees? Where does the white ash grow? What is the height and thickness of the ash tree you are studying?

2. The ash leaf is a compound leaf; of how many leaflets is it composed? What is the texture and shape of the leaflets? Describe the veins. Do the leaflets have petioles (petiolules)? Are the edges of the leaflets toothed? Which of the leaflets is largest? Which smallest? Is the petiole swollen at the base? How are the leaves arranged on the twigs? How does this distinguish the ashes from all other of our trees having compound leaves? How do the hickories have their leaves arranged? What color is the ash foliage in autumn?

3. Describe the seeds of the ash and the way they are arranged on their stems. Where are they placed on the tree? How long do they cling? How does the snow help to scatter them?

4. When does the white ash blossom? Are the pistillate and staminate flowers together or separate? Find and describe them.

5. What are our uses for ash timber? For what are the saplings used? How did the Indians use the white ash? Write a theme on all the interesting things you can find about the ash trees.

6. How many species of the ash trees do you know?

Supplementary reading—Trees in Prose and Poetry, pp. 60–71.

“I care not how men trace their ancestry,
To ape or Adam; let them please their whim;
But I in June am midway to believe
A tree among my far progenitors,
Such sympathy is mine with all the race,
Such mutual recognition vaguely sweet
There is between us. Surely there are times
When they consent to own me of their kin,
And condescend to me and call me cousin,
Murmuring faint lullabies of eldest time,
Forgotten, and yet dumbly felt with thrills
Moving the lips, though fruitless of the words.”

—From “Under the Willows,” Lowell.