The Trees of Frome

When I first moved to Frome in 1991 my partner of the time said I should write a booklet called The Trees of Frome. In those pre-internet days that meant jotting down notes in a notebook, but I didn't get very far. I suppose I was always banging on about trees, but I didn't have the required expertise then, and I still don't, though I've written about a few Frome trees over the years, particularly cherry trees. 

Anyway this post lists a few trees that would certainly need to feature in any hypothetical Trees of Frome. I've been looking at them for many years  but as you'll see I still can't necessarily name them... 

Huntingdon Elm, maybe. Frome, 7 May 2026.

Halfway along Spring Road, easy to overlook but locally well-known, this splendid mature elm in a private garden. 

Why it acts as if Dutch Elm disease never happened, I have no idea. 

The only elm species I really know are English Elm and Wych Elm. This one is neither (the leaves are pretty smooth). A recent consultation with the Facebook tree group emphasized the formidable complexity of Ulmus but it's not unlikely to be a Huntingdon Elm (Ulmus x hollandica 'Vegeta'), much planted in parks and gardens in the 1930s.

There are other mature elms in the Frome area. There were at least two Wych Elms in the grounds of Marston House when I worked there 20 years ago, and there probably still are (it was offices then, but is now a private residence). Beside a Beckington layby there's a line of three tall healthy elms almost hidden by the copse that's grown up around them: they are Field Elms at least in part, but I can't pin them down to a known variety. And I don't know what it is about  Beckington but another layby also has two elms, not exactly mature but well past the age you'd expect Dutch Elm disease to get involved; they're odd trees, with large, rough, untidy leaves. But the most confusing place to look at elms is the somewhat dilapidated border of Frome cemetery, across the road from Asda. There's a mass of elms there, seemingly of several different kinds (he says helplessly). Many are dead, but many are alive and some of them are pretty tall trees. 

London Plane. Frome, 7 May 2026.

There's something inappropriate about London Planes being anywhere other than a city. Still, Frome has this one, behind Ellenbray close to the footbridge, and the massive bole, split into three or four, gets noticed by everyone. Like most London Planes it gives the impression of intending to live forever. 

Lime tree. Frome, 9 May 2026.

This lime tree, at Hillclose Farm, Spring Gardens, was already huge in 1991 and it's even bigger now. Like a mountain, you need to be quite a long way off to see where the true summit is. . 

It seems to be a Common Lime that looks very much like a Small-leaved Lime, if I can put it that way. For example the flower-bracts stick out in all directions, the leaves are small and matte. (But: impressed tertiary veins, off-white tufts on underside, strictly 6 flowers per bunch.)

Below, a view inside the canopy.

Lime tree. Frome, 9 May 2026.

Poplar tree. Frome, 7 May 2026.

Another mighty tree. This is the most impressive of several impressive poplars along the river. They are American hybrid poplars, but that's as far as my knowledge goes. This one's at Welshmill, just below the weir. It's just across the river from the play-park, so parents and grandparents get plenty of time to gaze at it. 

Caucasian Wingnut (Pterocarya fraxinifolia). Frome, 20 May 2026.

If you walk around the perimeter of the Cattle Market car park, you'll be momentarily plunged into an exotic jungle, created by three wingnut trees. To the best of my knowledge (basically, none) these trees are Caucasian Wingnut (Pterocarya fraxinifolia) -- Other wingnuts are available!

Below, a shot of the ash-like foliage, the striking long female catkins and the shorter male ones. 

Caucasian Wingnut (Pterocarya fraxinifolia). Frome, 20 May 2026.

Ash (Fraxinus excelsior). Frome, 10 May 2026.

The magnificent ash tree in the car-park at Frome College. 

Frome is on the Lower Jurassic, and the limy soil makes it ash country rather than oak country. The ash is waiting, not very patiently, until the humans move on and Frome can become an ash wood again. Seedlings spring up constantly, and Frome gardeners are more familiar with it as a garden weed than as a sometimes stunning tree. 

Most of the isolated trees in town seem unaffected by ash die-back, in contrast to the devastated ash-woods on the Mendips. 

(Of course there are oaks around, too. The oak that's preserved in Sainsbury's car-park is worth more than a casual glance. It's about 150 years old -- in its prime, as you might say. And an English Oak in its rugged prime, about as perfect as this species ever gets, is a sight to behold.) 

Sycamore (Acer pseudoplatanus). Frome, 7 May 2026.

Every tree has its moment. This is a common-or-garden sycamore by the river, by no means an outstanding tree, but as I was taking photos for this post I was suddenly struck by the fabulous sight of all those hanging flowers at this time of year. So it snuck in. 

Wild Cherry (Prunus avium). Frome, 13 June 2026.

When I was choosing trees for this post I thought about this massive wild cherry tree in Welshmill woods, but decided I wouldn't be able to take a good photo. A pity, because a few weeks later it was cut down. The Town Council told me that a limb had fallen on a parked car -- no injuries, happily -- and a tree safety consultant had advised felling (thinning crown, overhanging the highway, etc). 

Part of the magic of trees is they're the only accessible living things who regularly outlive us, but it doesn't do to get too attached to them, especially around towns. 

Wild Cherry isn't a long-lived species. This one looked like a giant compared to most, but it was probably only about eighty years old. (The old rule of thumb is "an inch a year": I measured the circumference as 77 inches.) 

There are still a couple of other cherry trees of similar vintage concealed in Welshmill Woods. Go and see them while you can! 

Wild Cherry (Prunus avium). Frome, 13 June 2026.

I gave up trying to count the rings. Never as simple as it sounds, in my experience. 

A puzzle. Driving from Beckington towards Frome, as you come down the hill on the by-pass, you see what appears to be a line of seven or eight Lombardy poplars on the horizon. I notice them every day, and after thirty years I still can't figure out where they are! 

The view towards Longleat and Stourhead. Frome, 10 May 2026.

Here's a lovely view from the SE edge of Frome, looking over the valley to the greensand ridge of Longleat and Stourhead. Soon there are going to be 1,700 houses going up on these fields. There was strong local opposition to the plan ("Selwood Garden Community", it was called), the town council rejected it and Somerset Council were wavering when the decision was called in by central government, and now the planning inspector has done his job.  

*

'Taoyame' and a list of Frome's cherry trees:

https://michaelpeverett.blogspot.com/2019/04/that-cherry-tree-in-frome.html

'Kursar':

https://michaelpeverett.blogspot.com/2024/02/february-cherry.html

'Ichiyo':

https://michaelpeverett.blogspot.com/2019/04/prunus-ichiyo.html

'Umineko':

https://michaelpeverett.blogspot.com/2021/04/prunus-umineko.html

Norway Maple (Acer platanoides):

https://michaelpeverett.blogspot.com/2021/10/norway-maple.html

Downy Birch (Betula pubescens):

https://michaelpeverett.blogspot.com/2021/02/the-down-on-birch.html

Cornelian Cherry (Cornus mas):

https://michaelpeverett.blogspot.com/2020/08/cornelian-cherry-cornus-mas.html

Western Red Cedar (Thuja plicata):

https://michaelpeverett.blogspot.com/2021/01/western-red-cedar-thuja-plicata.html

Lime trees (Tilia species):

https://michaelpeverett.blogspot.com/2022/06/midsummer-limes.html
https://michaelpeverett.blogspot.com/2023/04/the-first-moves.html

Two trees in the aires

Two trees I noticed at places we stopped when driving home through France. Even if you get no further than the aires, as we largely didn't,  there's always plenty to look at. (The previous day I was at Aire de Port Lauragais learning about the jazz singer and poet Claude Nougaro,  the day before at Salses where you can walk to Ferdinand and Isabella's fortress and on to Claude Simon's house, as I've mentioned before.)

The first was on 28 October 2023 at Aire de Le Bazadais, SE of Bordeaux on the A62, and it's a 3-needle pine with heavy smooth cones; I'll go with Monterey Pine (Pinus radiata), widely planted in Europe. Not with any great confidence, but at least that ID isn't obviously wrong, though the bark seems a bit untypical.

I collected two of the closed cones on the ground for Laura's grandson, who enjoys shaking out the seeds. 

Here's the other tree, one of a group that I photographed the following morning, after a night of rain. This was at Aire de Saint-Lèger on the A10, just south of Saintes.

The trees are top-grafted mulberries. The naming of mulberries is a highly confusing topic, but I was greatly helped by finding this excellent article on Trees and Shrubs Online:

https://www.treesandshrubsonline.org/articles/morus/morus-alba/

So I will go with this being the plane-leaved variety of White Mulberry (Morus alba 'Platanifolia'). It looks very different from the white mulberry in Mum and Dad's garden. White Mulberry has many cultivars, unlike the Black Mulberry (Morus nigra), which is renowned for its exceptional genetic stability (presumably honouring Thisbe's request to the gods).

The author of the above article says that Morus alba 'Platanifolia' is widely planted as a shade tree in Europe and is usually top-grafted. Lobed leaves are frequent and are not restricted to the youngest growth, but may also occur on 1- and 2-year-old shoots.

Autumn cleardown

Brewer Spruce (Picea breweriana). Victoria Park, Frome, 11 September 2023.

Preparing for a road trip. Every bit of space in the van is important, so I've been emptying the accumulated cultural artefacts into self storage or giving them back to their owners. Yesterday I finished Karen Joy Fowler's 2013 novel We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves, a sort of dark family comedy that keeps disclaiming what it's doing, as it quietly unwraps the delusions and horrors of animal research. That was borrowed from Laura, and I've given it back, but I'll drag the internet for a quotation or two. The novel has touched a nerve, evidently; there are more than 30,000 Amazon reviews.

The first few chapters: https://www.penguinrandomhouse.ca/books/312665/we-are-all-completely-beside-ourselves-by-karen-joy-fowler/9780142180822/excerpt

Language does this to our memories – simplifies, solidifies, codifies, mummifies. An oft-told story is like a photograph in a family album; eventually, it replaces the moment it was meant to capture...

 

There's science and there's science, is all I'm saying. When humans are the subjects, it's mostly not science....

I didn't want a world in which I had to choose between blind human babies and tortured monkey ones. To be frank, that's the sort of choice I expect science to protect me from, not give me....

The only book left in my bag right now is a miniscule Troilus and Cressida, but I reckon I've already said all I can about that.

I've reduced the CDs in the van from twenty to five; when we travel we don't listen to anything except the landscape. So it doesn't really matter that what's left is a strange unbalanced mix; Mildred Bailey, Mattias Eklundh, Duffy, The Jam, and Liszt's Années de Pélerinage (the Swiss part). (Last time I listened to "Vallée d'Obermann" I felt suddenly sure that this piano piece was the key inspiration for Wagner's Tristan and Isolde music.) It seems strange not to be carting around armfuls of Haydn, my current delight. 

It would be nice to say more about that. Alas, my classical music thoughts amount to little more than "Oh my God I bloody love Haydn..." (or Chavez, or Berio, or Andrea Torrodi, or whatever is currently playing). Maybe that's the place of music in my cultural life, an art I can truly surrender to without being the least bit preoccupied with what I'm going to say about it.

Well, if I need any Haydn there's always YouTube. But we won't be using our phones very much either, the charging is a bore and reception is fitful. The latter, at least, won't get in the way of finally finishing Claude Simon's The Flanders Road and probably immediately starting over. My Kindle download dates from last year's trip, when I found myself eating quiche outside the house of this amazing author that I knew nothing about.

[Basically, you stop at the Aire du Château de Salses on the A9, take a short walk across fields to the stupendous Fort de Salses, a massively fortified stronghold of Ferdinand and Isabella, then keep on walking into the village. Claude Simon's house is in the village square. (In Salses he was principally a winegrower, only secondarily a Nobel prize-winning author.)]

When I'd written this much, I decided I'd gone too austere. I should take at least one paper book for when I didn't want to use the phone, I thought. So I revisited self storage and picked up an early Zola novel (Fatal Intimacy (Madeline Férat)). It was published in 1869; weird to think that's only twenty years after Cousin Pons.

In the first chapter (in Alec Brown's translation), it says "Skirting under the hill where those enormous castanea Robinsonia chestnuts rear their domes, they reached Aulnay". I know this has nothing to do with the story, but I'm instantly intrigued, having totally failed to find any reference to such a tree. *

For good measure, and because it was so slim, I also grabbed Ivan Illich's Deschooling Society (1971). I hardly ever read that kind of book of ideas -- it's something to do with distrust; as soon as someone delivers their opinions in their own voice, I worry that it's a performance, or not what they really think. Consequently, such ideas as I receive from books usually come from novels or poetry. But I'm hoping that, in the bubble of travelling, I might be more receptive. 

[I read a couple of pages of Deschooling Society, enough to see that this was a most inapposite rant. Illich's book was the fruit of vast experience and its ideas emerged communally from much debate with colleagues. All the same, I left my copy in Spain and who knows when or if I'll get back to it.]

This will be the last blog post before we set off. Probably there won't be much for the next month or two.

*

* I think I've worked it out now. Alec Brown invented the quasi botanical Latin; he didn't know what else to make of "châtaigniers de Robinson" in Zola's original text. Consulting the map of SW Paris made it clear. The lovers are walking from Fontenay (Fontenay-aux-Roses) to Aulnay by a direct route avoiding Sceaux. To their right is the area still known as Robinson. It was named for a well-known guinguette (cabaret) called Le Grand Robinson, opened in 1848. Unlike most guinguettes this one didn't have a waterfront location; instead, its iconic feature was the interconnected "tree-houses" set among large chestnut trees. The guinguette's  name alludes to the tree-house in The Swiss Family Robinson (1812 novel by Johann David Wyss), whose own title is an allusion to Robinson Crusoe. Anyway, those are the chestnut trees that Zola is talking about.

Brewer Spruce (Picea breweriana). Victoria Park, Frome, 11 September 2023.

In its native Klamath Mountains (N. California,  Oregon), the striking growth form of Brewer Spruce is an adaptation to heavy snowfall.

The cherry tree at Sutton Scotney

Ornamental Cherry at Sutton Scotney, 4 May 2023.

On Thursday I stopped briefly at Sutton Scotney services northbound (Hampshire), filled a mug of tea from the thermos, and was staggered by the sight of this cherry tree, one of three, with the most ridiculous lateral spread I've ever seen. This was in the evening of 4th May 2023; the blossom was maybe a few days past its best but it still looked fabulous.

Ornamental Cherry at Sutton Scotney, 4 May 2023.

Ornamental Cherry at Sutton Scotney, 4 May 2023.

Ornamental Cherry at Sutton Scotney, 4 May 2023.

Ornamental Cherry at Sutton Scotney, 4 May 2023.

Ornamental Cherry at Sutton Scotney, 4 May 2023.

Ornamental Cherry at Sutton Scotney, 4 May 2023.

I didn't recognize the variety. The nearest match I've been able to find is 'Hanagasa' or 'Matsumae-hanagasa', also known as 'Pink Parasol', but I read that this variety, developed in Japan in the 1960s, has only been available in the UK for about twenty years. Surely the tree I was looking at was twice that age? 

Ornamental Cherry at Sutton Scotney, 4 May 2023.

Ornamental Cherry at Sutton Scotney, 4 May 2023.

Ornamental Cherry at Sutton Scotney, 4 May 2023.

At the time I supposed it must be 'Kanzan', though the tree shape seemed bizarre, but I just couldn't think of any other double pink cherry of this size, except 'Shirofugen' which looks totally different.  Anyway I went and took some pictures of late 'Kanzan' blossom today (7 May 2023), just to dispel any lingering doubts.

Late blossom on Prunus 'Kanzan'. Frome, 7 May 2023.

Late blossom on Prunus 'Kanzan'. Frome, 7 May 2023.

Late blossom on Prunus 'Kanzan'. Frome, 7 May 2023.

Late blossom on Prunus 'Kanzan'. Frome, 7 May 2023.

Late blossom on Prunus 'Kanzan'. Frome, 7 May 2023.

So no, we can rule out 'Kanzan'. Though the blossom fades from its initial deep pink, the petals never turn white. But on the Sutton Scotney tree, it's apparent that the inner petals are white when they're freshly open, only turning pink as they age. 

This started me thinking about 'Shirofugen' again, because its blossom does the same thing. I reflected that maybe I'd been too hasty in writing it off; that after all 'Shirofugen' is typically flat-topped (unlike 'Kanzan') and that it does change its appearance a lot during its three weeks of flowering. 

So I paid another visit to the senescent 'Shirofugen' at Beanacre, now at a late stage of flowering. 

Late blossom on Prunus 'Shirofugen'. Beanacre, 11 May 2023.

Late blossom on Prunus 'Shirofugen'. Beanacre, 11 May 2023.

Late blossom on Prunus 'Shirofugen'. Beanacre, 11 May 2023.

Late (though in this case fairly fresh) blossom on Prunus 'Shirofugen'. Beanacre, 11 May 2023.

Late blossom on Prunus 'Shirofugen'. Beanacre, 11 May 2023.

But, I think you'll agree, it's definitely different from the Sutton Scotney tree, though the differences aren't that easy to articulate. The most tangible thing is that on the Sutton Scotney tree the sepals are often deep red and the scales of the leaf-buds are bright red, both features that you can find on 'Kanzan' when the blossom is fresh, but never on 'Shirofugen' where the colours of both are bronzy. Besides that, I'd venture that the outer petals of the fresh Sutton Scotney blossom are a more purplish shade of pink while on 'Shirofugen' they are more flesh-pink or wine-pink; and overall the blossom on the Sutton Scotney tree is a little more blowsy and opulent, the sort of thing Collingwood Ingram probably wouldn't have approved of.  

And there I'll have to leave it, hoping that some cherry-blossom aficionado will come by and tell me what's going on. 

Late blossom on Prunus 'Shirofugen'. Beanacre, 11 May 2023.

A mess of cherry blossom

 

Prunus 'Shirofugen'. Beanacre, 25 April 2023.

25 April 2023, early morning sunshine. I pulled over by the row of cherry trees outside the hotel at Beanacre (near Melksham, Wiltshire) and took some messy pics while the rush hour traffic thundered past me. Later, in work, I inadvertently walked cherry petals all over the carpet near my desk.

Here, just starting to blossom, is the fabulous late variety Prunus 'Shirofugen', also known as 'Fugenzo' or 'Fugenzō'. It used to be a fantastic sight here, (https://michaelpeverett.blogspot.com/2010/05/prunus-shirofugen.html) but two of the trees have now died and this one, the last, is heading the same way.

Prunus 'Shirofugen'. Beanacre, 25 April 2023.

Prunus 'Tae-haku'. Beanacre, 25 April 2023.

Blossom on epicormic shoots on one of the big specimens of Prunus 'Tae-haku': not a good sign. Below, after shedding petals.

Here's an old post showing this tree at its best: https://michaelpeverett.blogspot.com/2010/04/prunus-continued-from-last.html .

Prunus 'Tae-haku'. Beanacre, 25 April 2023.

A sapling: a Sargent Cherry (Prunus sargentii), I'm guessing. Nice too see some youth among all the moribundity. Ornamental cherry trees, unfortunately, are not very long lived. Fifty years is about the norm, I believe (without checking).

Prunus 'Kanzan'. Beanacre, 25 April 2023.

The blossom on the other varieties was either nearly over or barely started, but Prunus 'Kanzan' was right at its peak.

Cherry-blossom aficionados are often a bit sniffy about 'Kanzan' -- Collingwood Ingram loathed it -- but today I thought about what a remarkable variety it is. It arose in the Edo period (1603 - 1867) and is thought to derive in a complex way from the Oshima Cherry (Prunus speciosa) among others, somehow acquiring deep pink petals along the way. 

I'm not sure when it was introduced in the UK. Some sources say 1913 or "the 1900s", but Naoko Abe says "late nineteenth century". So take your pick. I've also read that it reached the USA in 1903.

Despite its very double flowers, 'Kanzan' evidently retains some fertility as it is a parent species of both 'Pink Perfection' and 'Royal Burgundy'.

Prunus 'Kanzan'. Beanacre, 25 April 2023.

Prunus 'Shirotae'. Beanacre, 25 April 2023.

Prunus "Shirotae", overhead. An early variety, but still looking good if you don't peer too closely.