Braiding Sweetgrass

canopy. But most never do. Forest ecologists estimate that the
window of opportunity for cedars to get started occurs perhaps only
twice in a century. So at Shotpouch, natural recolonization was out.
In order to have cedars in the restored forest, Franz had to plant
them.
Given all cedar’s traits—slow growth, poor competitive ability,
susceptibility to browsing, wildly improbable seedling establishment
— one would expect it to be a rare species. But it’s not. One
explanation is that while cedars can’t compete well on uplands, they
thrive with wet feet in alluvial soils, swamps, and water edges that
other species can’t stand. Their favorite habitat provides them with
a refuge from competition. Accordingly, Franz carefully selected
creekside areas and planted them thickly with cedar.
The unique chemistry of cedar endows it with both life-saving and
tree-saving medicinal properties. Rich with many highly
antimicrobial compounds, it is especially resistant to fungi.
Northwest forests, like any ecosystem, are susceptible to outbreaks
of disease, the most significant of which is laminated root rot
caused by the native fungus Phellinus weirii. While this fungus can
be fatal for Douglas firs, hemlock, and other trees, the red cedars
are blessedly immune. When root rot strikes the others, the cedars
are poised to fill in the empty gaps, freed of competition. The Tree
of Life survives in patches of death.
After years of working alone to keep the cedar thriving, Franz
found someone who shared his notion of a good time: planting
trees and chopping salmonberry. Franz’s first date with Dawn was
on the ridgetop at Shotpouch. Over the following eleven years, they
planted more than thirteen thousand trees and created a network of
trails with names that reflect intimacy with their forty acres.
Forest Service lands are often named something like