When we bought our place in 1985, there were no maple trees there, in spite of being surrounded by huge maples on the hillsides of our little valley. They were so beautiful mixed in with the evergreens. I patiently waited, and a few years ago, when I was ready to give up and plant my own, one finally volunteered. It grows in the front pasture near an old farm cistern, where it has all the room it needs to grow tall and spread its branches wide.
The maple is dark yellow and gold right now, and holding fast to its leaves in spite of the rain. We haven't had a bad storm yet; as soon as we do, the leaves will come down whether they've turned color or not. The remaining birch trees near the house are bright yellow, beautiful against the white trunks. Pasture trees are the way to go: we get to enjoy them as they turn color, and no one will ever need to rake the leaves.
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