Willow



This is Jean Baptiste. So named due to the historical plaque that stands nearby marking this bit of land by the Humber River as the trading post of Jean Baptiste Rousseau in the late 1700's. I believe that this weeping willow was standing during those fur-trading days and has witnessed all activity along the river bank since then. There is no evidence left of the trading post, but the tree has grown huge and glorious, hanging long branches over the river. Many big heavy branches have broken in various storms and remain leaning against the trunk or lie on the ground providing a whole ecosystem for small animals. If this tree were in India it would be celebrated with garlands of flowers and visited by the local people with their prayers and gratitude. Not that I mind being alone when I make my visits, but I'm still surprised that in this society such a wise elder remains unrecognized.


Willows are among the first trees to flower in the spring.
Jean Baptiste in winter




This is Kokoro in spring, growing in my neighbourhood. Unlike Jean Baptiste, Kokoro gets heavily pruned on a regular basis. So heavily pruned that it seems there's no possibility for the tree to recover and send out new shoots again. But recover it does, and the twigs are very long - the best for weaving.
Kokoro being pruned




These are bundles of weeping willow twigs taken from some big branches that were lying on the ground after a major pruning in one of the city parks here in Toronto. To get such a generous supply as this I have to have good enough timing to come upon them before they dry out. Once they dry, the twigs won't soak up water again to become supple enough to weave. It's not a traditional weaving willow because it's too brittle once dry so is not suitable for baskets or other functional items. But it's the trees themselves I'm initially attracted to, so I've found a way to make use of what they offer. It's fine for wall pieces. In these pictures I'm holding about enough for 2 medium-sized willow disks (about 3' diameter). It's good to come upon a pruning site early in the spring because the leaves haven't come out yet so they don't need to be stripped off before weaving. A lot can be collected at one time from a pruning site, but just as often I gather the twigs from branches that have fallen from the tree due to high winds. After a windy or stormy night I'll go out walking to see what has fallen. I know the locations of enough willows that I'm pretty much assured of picking up enough to weave a disk or two.




This is a common enough sight. A willow branch has come down in an alley and been shoved aside. I find these often while out walking.
If it has been a VERY windy night, extra large branches can crack off and I have lots to work with. The leaves need to be stripped off before sorting the twigs into bundles according to length and storing them in big pots of water until use. The leaves can be used as a dye - they yield a range of golden hues to wool or silk. The two skeins on the left were dyed with the leaves. The one on the right was dyed with willow bark.




These are examples of the weaving done with the twigs. It's a simple weave, using the twigs for both the stakes and weavers. These disks are each 4 feet in diameter, which is about as big as I make them. One is made from Jean Baptiste's fallen branches and the other from several different trees. When the twigs are fresh they're yellowish, but once dry they turn a darker shade which continues to darken slightly over the years. Depending on the tree, the time of year the twigs are gathered, and how long they remain soaking in water before they're woven, the colour range once dry varies between an orangey colour to almost black. Some disks have concentric circles of different colours. Very nice. I never know until a disk is finished what colours it will dry to.