Ulmus glabra ‘Camperdownii’ beginning to leaf out
Discovered in the mid-nineteenth century in Dundee, Scotland, the original plant of this Victorian England “must-have” is still alive.
All other specimens of Camperdown elm are descended from this parent plant. These clones of the parent are typically grafted onto the stem of a non-mutated plant of wych elm (Ulmus glabra), though occasionally other species of elm are used. Douglas Justice notes in his account in Vancouver Trees, “Camperdown elm is generally grafted high on a standard to compensate for its robust growth and coarse texture.”
The Riverview Lands, where today’s photograph was taken five years ago in mid-April, has twenty or so of these trees:
Even with the video above, one still doesn’t get an accurate sense for how large these can be; see the photograph accompanying piece in one of the local newspapers, or these photographs from the northeast USA’s Louis the Plant Geek.
For descriptive prose, again revisiting Douglas’s writing:
Ulmus glabra ‘Camperdownii’ (Camperdown elm) produces wildly contorted stems that eventually straighten out and become strongly pendulous. The leaves of Camperdown elm are usually much larger than what is typical for the species and overlap, such that they form a wall of coarse foliage that effectively obscures the trunk and internal branching from outside. In late May, the flower-like clusters of samaras, which, despite being individually drab and papery, are surprisingly showy. They may be visible on one-year-old and older branches. Only in winter are the extraordinarily twisted, curling bases of the long shoots visible. It is this medusa-like head, rather than the dark, drab, tent-like shape of the tree in summer, that elicits reactions from passersby.
Or, read this article on a celebrated tree in New York, Marianne Moore and the Crowning Curio: How a Poem Saved One of the World’s Rarest and Most Majestic Trees. Lastly, if interested about Marianne Moore (and the aforementioned poem) and you have library-level access, “Still Leafing”: Celebrity, Confession, Marianne Moore’s “The Camperdown Elm” and the Scandal of Age in the Journal of Modern Literature.
This reminds me of the contorted beech that I’ve been searching for forever. Gorgeous! Where can I get one for my yard?
That is definitely a hard one to find in retail. I imagine if there is an existing specimen from which cuttings can be made, the thing to do would be to try and convince one of the local wholesale nurseries to give it a go–would be even easier if they knew that there was a market for it.
Thank you for the research behind the featured image. and your time to make your efforts more known to the public.
I’ve looked for the beech, “Tortuosa” for some time.
Neat tree, great habit!
Reminds me a bit of the story of the Mother Hass avocado tree.
Just lovely. Thank you.
Thank you, Daniel. Beautiful tree. JWT
For folks in Northern California, Filoli gardens in Woodside has a lovely specimen of the Camperdown elm. I recall a story that a disgruntled person tried to cut it down. The scar of the chain saw around the trunk still remains. It seems to have survived very well from the injury.
As a child I was fascinated by this tree in the garden of my grandmother’s friend in Eastern Ontario. I understood it had been grown from seed that had been brought home from Britain by the hero son of the neighbour at the end of WW1. It is interesting to hear that it grows best from cuttings.
The tree would have been about 15 years old when i first saw it and was big enough for my sister and I to hide inside its dense umbrella of leaves and branches.
Thank you for the lovely photo and the information.
HEG
I love the notion of wabi sabi, the idea of finding the beauty in a tree with challenges or an unusual growth habit, but as I have matured as a garden designer evolving into an ecologist, the idea of selecting and cloning bizarre, discolored, and aberrant specimens for novelty or an expression of individuality that humans crave on some deep level just no longer appeals to me. The more I learn of natural forms, the more unnatural even things like double roses seem to me…they become like bubble headed goldfish, albino kingsnakes, and hairless cats. Why? Why are we so discontent with the fantastic diversity the world offers us? Why does everything have to be on our own terms?
I think everyone has their boundaries.
Marian Whitcomb, I totally agree with you about goldfish and cats, but I’m not so sure about plants. Aren’t many plants, such as citrus trees, made from grafting? Although, I’ve heard about this tree for sale that has multiple types of citrus grafted on it– the “Everything Tree”? I think that’s just too bizarre. I wonder if this also relates to genetic engineering. I don’t want to eat anything genetically modified, but I’m in favor of using it to prevent diseases in humans. I think they’re working on this for a vaccine against COVID19. Some people who have it never get symptoms. Sorry for the ramble, I’ve been isolated too long.
Probably not the same, but as a child I absolutely loved a weeping elm at an elderly friend’s place. It was fully mature and underneath, a room, secret and green with wonderful light filtering through – a place to dream. I have loved weeping elms ever since and this post was a pleasure to read … thank you!
I first “met” this one about 40 years ago when I began teaching at Saint Mary’s College (Indiana). It was planted just outside the science hall. My Field Botany students were stumped when trying to identify it. An unusual, but aesthetically pleasing, form!
The garden where I grew up had many old trees, and two were particular treasures.
One, a weeping willow, was my house. Every jutting branch, draped to the ground, was a room. The house had a door and I never entered any other way. In the fall I would rake all the leaves out of my house, so that its carpet of grass was showing and all the leaves remain outdoors.
We also had an ancient apple tree which had been grafted with 4 different types of apples. When it was young and cared for, it probably produced a crop of interesting apples for someone, but in my day it was elderly and gnarled, appreciated for an entirely different purpose. One graft was a thick branch sticking out sideways at the perfect height for a swing. And when we tired of that we could climb the tree and sit on several branches, whiling away many a summer afternoon.
Thank-you Daniel for this column which triggered such treasured memories!