A tree grows in Holland

April 22, 2018

IMG_3854My family hails from the Netherlands, and every time I go back to the homeland, I find myself wondering why they left the place.
Honestly, most things taste better back in the Low Country: bread, coffee, beer and cheese.
But what blew me away on my visit this week was something I hadn’t really noticed, or had taken for granted, on previous visits to Holland: the trees. (This is likely because I am now a student in forestry at the University of Toronto. I can’t shut up about trees these days).
Simply put, the Netherlands is absolutely crammed with glorious, healthy, soaring specimens of tree.
It seems ironic for Canada, a forestry superpower, to look on the forest canopy of the Netherlands with such envy. And yet, there you have it: when it comes to trees, specifically urban trees, Holland makes Canada resemble a moonscape.
In Amsterdam, for example, every single boulevard, save some tiny alleys in the heart of town, is lined with rows of glorious trees, their crowns spreading triumphantly to the heavens. Go out of town and you find that mature trees line every road in the nation.
Next time you are in Holland, take minute to ask yourself: why are most of their city trees at least 100 years old, whereas our city trees die by age 20? It seems there are two very simple reasons: water and growing space.
Let’s deal with water first. In Canada, cement sidewalks and asphalt streets cover much of the cityscape. Amsterdam, for example, has almost no asphalt, and no cement. Interlocking brick covers every sidewalk, every street and every bike path. Under the brick is sand, and under the sand is earth. This means that, when it rains (which it does often, of course) the water can seep down between the thousands of spaces between the paving stones, and reach the tree roots.
The tree roots, to all appearances, spread gloriously under the roads, and have lots of room to continue to grow.
Now let’s talk about tree crowns. In Toronto, for example, hydro, cable, streetcar and phone wires crisscross virtuallly every street. In Amsterdam tram wires are the only thing above the street, and, to minimize poles, the Dutch attach the tram wires to buildings that line the streets. All wires are buried in conduits under the streets.
The absence of wires means street trees have unencumbered room to grow, gloriously, into the heavens.
IMG_3853I discussed this detail the other day in Soest, a quiet village about a half-hour train trip from Amsterdam, with my dear uncle. While we sipped beer, he noted that the Dutch began in his childhood, just after World War II, to remove overhead wires and bury all wires underground. This gives room for trees, which, as he pointed out, are the first line of defense for the Dutch against the harsh winds which sweep across his country.
As we sat in his lush back yard we marveled at a beech tree in a neighbour’s garden, which soared 30 metres, about the height of the apartment blocks in Amsterdam.
I could sit around the Netherlands and talk about trees all day long.