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THE APPEAL OF BONSAI
Bonsai, by the very nature of their being, will never replace a
garden,
where a garden may be grown. Nor will they be a menace to the growing
of trees in the conventional manner, where conventional trees can
be accommodated. Being wholly uncompetitive, they may be kept in
garden, under trees, and also in any other outdoor spot linked to
human habitation. Many a bonsai, for that matter, can be grown indoors.
Bonsai fascinate me. They have an appeal far beyond the look-at-the-pretty-flower
concept, an interest much greater than the specimen tree in the
landscape, because they are both landscape and specimen. They give
us the unique opportunity of meeting a full-grown tree face to face.
To behold a tree, even a small one, in its entirety, the necessary
distance obscures enough detail to force us into an impersonal relationship
with a shape. This point is well illustrated by the language of
landscape design. We speak of screen-, frame-, shade-, shelter plantings,
of covers, accents, barriers, vistas, foundations. We never design
a tree, but a shape, a colour, a screen, a background.
Not so with bonsai. A bonsai is a tree on a rock, in a pot, on
a tray. It is a tree designed to be upright or slanted or cascading
or wind-blown, curved or straight. Even group plantings are individuals,
often one tree, mostly one clone, always one variety. A bonsai becomes
a companion, a person, a pet.
There is a psychological interreaction between man and plant. In
many cases, for man, it may be hardly detectable. And plants, obviously,
can well live without us. (so, for that matter, with the possible
exception of a few specific parasites, can the rest of the living
world.) Yet aside from our physical interference, we seem to be
able to influence other organisms, including plants, their lives,
and their well-being, with our mind and feelings. Some people use
this ability more than others. They are said to have "green
thumbs".
The status of "pet" involves a physical and emotional
dependency. All domestic plants are involved in it in some way.
Houseplants have it. Under optimum conditions, such as in a well-managed
greenhouse, they may thrive inspite of possible enmity or indifference.
But in difficult situations - a dark corner, a dry room - they need
not only special care, they need a green thumb. They need someone
who admires them, thinks of them, talks to them, if you wish. Playing
them music and pouring them tea is said to do wonders. (And it is
not the decibels or tannic acid.)
Bonsai are in this class, only usually more so. By designing them,
by shaping their present and their future, by gradually and patiently
leading them to near perfection, we strengthen the bonds and magnify
our influence. A bonsai is never finished, it needs perpetual care
and guidance. We are in constant communication with it: "No,
you must not sprout there" (snip), "that is far enough
here" (snip, snip). But also: "A little lower here, a
bit more curve there, now you're beautiful!"
Techniques, of course, will have to be learned, for love and admiration
alone will not sustain a bonsai. But even though it is different
from what we would designate as conventional horticulture, caring
for bonsai is not particularly difficult, and for those who seek
them out there are many books and people to draw the necessary knowledge
from.
Remember the days when African violets were hard to grow? With
their rising popularity most of their problems seem to have vanished.
It will be so with bonsai. I can see the time when they will be
placed around parks, studied in school, be features in every flower
show. They will be displayed in boardrooms and lobbies and offices.
People will cherish them all their lives and pass them on to their
offspring. And any newly wed couple will confidently water, wire
and prune their bridal-shower bonsai collection and never ruffle
a leaf.
May it be soon.
Hans Vleming
The Journal of The Toronto Bonsai Society
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