In Veneration of Eastern Red Cedar
Some thoughts on giving liberty to carnal and sensual delights, and economically, theologically, and ecologically sanctioned tree worship
It may surprise you to learn we can fit a Christmas tree in this house, and that we actually consent to doing it. Our home is small and cluttered, full of banana boxes full of firewood, crates of dusty sweet potatoes, buckets of water, farting dogs, children, and rabbits, and great big pumpkins. It is structurally composed of many trees already. Yet, we manage to make a little room for one more recently deceased– It is a naturally shaped, if scraggly, eastern red cedar, one of the many eastern red cedars which speckle the fields here, particularly those which have not been burnt recently. Having a child who loves Christmas necessitates having a Christmas tree, as if the overabundance of cedar that needs cleared from the prairie here weren’t motivation enough.
That said, my relationship with both Christmas and eastern red cedar is complicated. Religiosity aside, I still have deep memories of Polish Catholic Christmas Eves from when I was young– perogies and mushroom soup dinners, apricot and poppy seed filled kolacky, frankincense at midnight mass. Thinking back on all those socks and sweaters I was less than thrilled to receive back then, as I write this in my cold room, my socks threadbare, makes me wish I could have appreciated the practicality of these things at the time. Of course, I’m not a fan of the consumerist leanings of the holidays, and as to spiritual significance, I’ve long believed that matters of the divine are none of my business– I’m too lazy to be agnostic, I’m mostly apathetic to higher matters, I’m busy enough with shit I can supposedly understand.
Yes, for the most part, come to think of it, I don’t really like Christmas, but like a fresh pair of socks that I didn’t have to buy (I get really cheap when I have to buy socks), I do see it’s utility, once the artifice of consumer capitalism is stripped away. If it makes the kids happy, well then I’m happy for their happiness. It’s dark and cold here, let them me happy.
The eastern red cedar, on the other hand, is maybe a bit more complicated of a subject than Christmas. It does not make the idealized form for a Christmas tree. It is not as sharply triangular as fir, nor does it hold onto its needles for as long. It actually is composed of younger, ouchier needles, and older, scale-like evergreen growth, and the color can be anywhere along the spectrum of purple-hued bronze to deep green to rusty death– not always the exemplary tone for everlasting life. It is a native, pioneer species which can quickly dominate the landscape, and sometimes make prairie establishment more difficult. It complicates controlled prairie burning in a way… although these cedars (actually, not true cedars as at all, but junipers) are loaded with volatile oils which can hold and accelerate the necessary fires that must sweep the prairie landscape from time to time, their dense growth also holds humidity closer to the grass and impedes fire-carrying winds. My observations of their ecological function are that they might aid in providing volatile fuel for difficult to burn areas (shady slopes and humid, low-lying areas) but they also aid in the reforestation / afforestation of rare, grassland ecosystems. They exist to shield soil from the elements in times of disturbance, and fuel the flames of prairie building thereafter.
They provide shelter and windblock and cover from predators for our livestock, as well as wildlife, and they also harbor cedar-apple rust, an often frustrating fungal disorder among organically-raised apple trees here in the midwest (I have a recently re-unlocked post on Juniperus virginiana here). Eastern red cedars produce juniper berries, which are not as large as those specifically raised for culinary purposes, but work in a pinch, and keep the cedar waxwings happy. They weave together our fragile soil, and protect it from wind and water erosion. We harvest the berries as an aromatic herb for our rustic charcuterie– the pungent scent is said to keep insects away from hanging hams, the sharp flavor distracts the eater from any gaminess, and the berries themselves are coated with a unique yeast which can aid and enhance certain fermented and preserved foods, from beer and spirits to sourdoughs, salami, and cheese. In so-called North America, eastern red cedar has long been revered as a tree of purification, of protection, as are related junipers in their native Northern Europe. It isn’t hard to see why they might hold this reputation with more habitat-connected humans, nor imagine the greater depth of understanding people have for the trees they have built relationships with over millennia.