Ulmus americana
I first wrote about Overlook Park in northeast Portland eight years ago. In the Flora Wonder Blog of July 29, 2016 "The Hunt for Portland's Notable Trees," I described my discovery of an enormous elm tree, Ulmus amaricana, in the middle of the very large green lawn. Then I returned last fall, 2024 which was in Travels With Flora Episode 6: Overlook Park. The latter was a brief blogette, so to speak, but now I'll describe some more trees up the bluff.
Cedrus libani subsp. libani
Libocedrus decurrens
Ms Reynolds in her Trees of Greater Portland (2013) suggests walking tours of various neighborhoods, each which lists a dozen or more tree species. The individual trees on the map are not necessarily champions for size, or historically significant either, but they together comprise a nice urban canopy which includes our native oaks and maples as well as a large number of exotics.
Quercus garryana
The Overlook's deciduous trees were mostly bare last November, and the silhouette of an Oregon White oak, Quercus garryana, impressed me in the morning fog. The tree was perched behind a metal fence on a vacant lot, which I supposed was an underdeveloped portion of the city's property. The oak was not of champion size --I saw one even larger in the St. Johns neighborhood just a week ago with my daughter-- but the Overlook tree was as regal as any I've had the pleasure to meet. I supposed it to be about a century in age, a native sapling that was spared when its older relatives and guardians were harvested for commerce in the name of progress. Perhaps they were scalped to fuel the Willamette River steamboats that were common in the olden days, back when Portlanders believed that "harvesting" champions was perfectly normal, even necessary.
Overlook house
An attractive old house looked like a valuable piece of property, especially in such a prime location, but I think the residence had been commandeered for city purposes. A few people were laughing loud enough for me to hear from outside and I wondered what their purpose was on this work-week morning; oh --wait a minute-- I'm presuming that city employees are encumbered by purpose. I don't know, maybe I'm being harsh, maybe the revelers were simply volunteers who were warming up with the coffee and doughnuts before heading out to preform good works.
Umbellularia californica (Oregon myrtle) on Edison street
Umbellularia californica
I picked a leaf and crushed it, but I find the odor disagreeable, and I certainly wouldn't use it in cooking as some do. The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs is hilarious to mention, "The 'old school' of gardeners indulged in extravagant stories of prostrate dowagers overcome by the powerful aroma."
On the corner of Concord and Overlook Blvd. was a massive "Scarlet oak," Quercus coccinea, that had been designated as an Oregon Heritage Tree with the official bronze plaque. The species' epithet is from the Latin word coccineus which means "scarlet," which is also used in the botanical naming of various flowers with reddish color such as Tanacetum coccineum ("painted daisy") and Geum coccineum in the Rosaceae (rose) family. I never acquired a Scarlet oak for the Flora Wonder Arboretum because I perceived that the species would grow too large, and in front of me was evidence I made a good decision. In defense of the tree, it could be up to 150 years old.
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It began to rain and I felt the urge to hurry my adventure due to the cold and my soaked map and tree list. The dogwoods were present, but the Monkey Puzzle was not. The two palms were found, but they were relatively small and unattractive in any case. The genus name should be spelled "Trachycarpus" not "Tricocarpus," while the specific epithet fortunei honors Scotsman Robert Fortune (1812-1880) who introduced the palm to Europe. His primary mission in China was to secretly procure tea plants, Camellia sinensis, and tea making procedures, and if caught he probably would have been executed. He was not. The genus name comes from the Greek words trachy for "rough" and carpus for "fruit," in reference to the fruits' appearance on this genus. I never grew one in the Flora Wonder Arboretum--it would have been hideously out of place in my collection. For some reason the windmills are planted at nearly every McDonald's fast-food joint in Portland, along with dwarf golden cypressus and swords of Yucca filamentosa.
Castanea sativa
I beat it from the back, afraid of passing out next to a strange woman, and I continued down the street. Around the corner my map indicated a "Spanish chestnut," Castanea sativa, but in the midst of other large trees I didn't find the tree with certainty, so I subbed a photo of the chestnut from a different location. Hillier informs us it is native to "S Europe, N Africa and Asia Minor. Long cultivated and naturalized in the British Isles, where it is believed to have been introduced by the Romans."
Chamaecyparis pisifera
Chamaecyparis pisifera
Next to the Castanea was supposedly some older "Sawara cypress," Chamaecyparis pisifera, the evergreen conifer from Japan. I guess I was expecting a plumy cultivar, as one seldom encounters the straight species used as street trees, but there they were, much taller than I was expecting. The reddish-brown trunks were attractively shaggy, and the trees were limbed up so they would fit into a relatively small space. I don't care for the scrappy species, honestly, even though I used to propagate and grow some of the many cultivars by the thousands. The Overlook trees were full of dead branchlets and the live twigs were cluttered with numerous small brown cones; indeed the specific epithet pisifera literally means "pea bearing."
Juglans regia
Squeezed in next to the Sawaras was a sole specimen of Juglans regia, normally a broad-canopied tree, but narrow here for lack of adequate room. Hillier refers to the species as the "Common walnut," but one "that has been cultivated in England for centuries." They're widely grown in Oregon too, it is the walnut of commerce, but in Oregon we know it as "English walnut." Actually J. regia (meaning "kingly" due to the superior quality of the nuts) is native to Asia and The Balkans of southeast Europe, not from England originally. The name Juglans is derived from the latin name Jovis meaning "of Jupiter" and glans meaning an "acorn."
Jaglans regia
The sign next to the skinny walnut was soo Portland, but it was a good message sponsored by Friends of Trees that "This Tree Keeps Us Healthy" by creating oxygen and providing shade since _____. The date was left blank, it's probably up to the homeowner to guess the age and handwrite it in. I can't think of a worse tree for street or small-lot use unless one is attempting to attract slugs and rodents into your property. The nuts fall in autumn where the fleshy outer husks rot leaving an acrid stench over the area. Little children and mindless adults track the shell-mush into the house --I know we had a tree next to our back door-- and as a teenager it was my chore to keep the walkway and porch clean. Then, on a clear and crisp January Sunday many home owners would try to incinerate the leaf piles across town, as if we were sending smoke signals to each other.
Quercus coccinia
Quercus coccinia
E. Henry Wemme
The Overlook area was developed by E. Henry Wemme (1861-1914) and many houses were built at the end of the 1800s. Wemme was a wealthy businessman, beginning his career in 1883, and I imagine a good story: the Scarlet oak --which is native to Missouri, not Oregon-- was known to him, maybe even planted by him. But probably not, businessmen generally don't want to get their hands dirty, from soil that is. Besides, Wemme had other hobbies, as in he owned the first automobile in Oregon, an 1899 Stanley Steamer.
Historic Columbia River Highway
Wemme* also introduced other cars to the Portland area and he was president of the Portland Automobile Association. Each of his new cars bore the Oregon license plate #1, and no doubt due to his love of driving, in 1910 he was a strong advocate for building the scenic Columbia River Highway.
Perhaps afflicted with dementia in his later years, Wemme wore rumpled clothes, unshined shoes and was usually unshaven. He always mouthed an unlit cigar, the juice of which ran down both sides of his mouth and chin. He never married.
*This biography condensed from an article by William L. Lang. Professor of History, Portland State University.
Quercus kelloggii
Quercus kelloggii
On the same Scarlet oak property grows another species of oak, a Quercus kelloggiii [sic], the "California Black oak." It was a newer planting on the property, closer to Concord Street, as if the Scarlet predecessor was insufficient. This is a rare species for Portland too, as it comes from much of California to central Oregon, and prefers a more-dry montane environment. It was the dark bark that led Dr. Albert Kellogg, a pioneer botanist, to first name the species, and it's Q. kelloggii with two "iis," not three. I look forward to returning in spring to study the new foliage, as I recall driving through California hills east and north of San Francisco in early April where the oak's emerging leaves are tipped with a rose-pink color. Yellow-green pollen catkins dangle from the branches adding to the spring extravaganza, then by summer the foliage evolves to a lustrous deep green. The black oak's nuts were preferred by Native Americans across California because they stored well, and the mush ("ekibay") made a thick acorn pudding.
Platanus x hispanica
Where Castle and Shaver Streets converge on Overlook is a triangle of green, about one-fourth the size of an average city block. I like the geometry of the situation, and thankfully the grounds are homeless, with only three huge "London Plane trees," Platanus x hispanica, dominating what is probably city property. The plane trees were previously known as Platanus x acerfolia or Platanus x hybrida, and Hillier reports that it was "First recorded about 1663. It has long been considered a hybrid between P. occidentalis and P. orientalis, though it may be a form of the latter." I don't care for the tree at all due to coughing fits from the fuzzy undersides of the leaves, back when young Buchholz potted the damn things all day at the Dutchman's nursery.
Platanus x hispanica
The London planes display a patchwork of bark color, but the bulging, bulbous trunks cannot be considered attractive. Too bad that Wemmee or whoever chose this trio, but the resident squirrels don't seem to mind. I should be careful what I say anyway, nobody likes a tree snob and I occasionally come across as one. I remember when I chatted a few weeks ago with a north Portland woman about her champion Abies pinsapo, which is rare in PDX because they prefer the dryness of southern Spain, and the species (or subsp. marocana) even extends into north Africa. "Algeria," she supposed. "Morocco" I countered, "hence marocana." She remained impassive, but I could detect that she had been previously informed by the Heritage tree people, and she trusted them over this old, white-haired stranger.
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Ginkgo biloba
A quintet of tree species was listed in Reynolds' book in a one-block section on the River-side of Overlook Blvd, starting north with #24 Ginkgo biloba --four of them; then two #25 "Eastern dogwood," Cornus florida; two #26 "Chinese Windmill palms, Tricocarpus [sic] fortunei; one #27 "Monkey Puzzle," Araucaria aracana; and finally a pair of "Japanese Snowbells," Styrax japonicus. I found the four ginkgoes, but they were skinny and all leaves were on the ground.
Trachycarpus fortunei
Trachycarpus fortunei
I gave up on the two snowbells --my coat and hat were drenched and it wasn't very smart of me to continue underdressed, and my car was a half-dozen blocks away. I left it on Overlook, right? Hmm, Overlook Blvd or Overlook Terrace? It was dry when I started out and I was initially in no hurry; I shouldn't be so casual...at my age. I was in tennis shoes, for heaven sakes, which I was reminded of when I accidentally pressed the camera shutter while crossing a street. I hate to embarrass myself in the presence of Flora, what would she think about my abbreviated outing?
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Chamecyparis lawsoniana
I returned again to Overlook this past January 2025, because there were a few additional species that I gave up on the November before. It was foggy, cold and drizzly as well but I brought a heavier coat with a hood. In the gloom I photographed a single "Lawson cypress," Chamaecyparis lawsoniana, but it can be a broody species anyway. The cypress was not mentioned in the Reynolds book, but across the street was a notably-sized "Noble fir," Abies procera which was listed.
Abies procera (Noble fir)
A person exited the Noble house, bundled in a black coat and stocking hat, fussing to get the leash on a spinning dog who was ready to romp. I couldn't tell for sure, but I think it was a woman. I don't mind a person in the photo because it provides scale for the tree in question; I just didn't want to cause concern, because really, what woman (or guy) wants someone to be recording anything in the neighborhood? When she (?) was behind a tree and turned away I pressed the shutter and got what I wanted.
A block or two further I paused to consult my map and tree list, and it was awkward with two wet papers. From behind I was surprised when a pleasant voice called out "Good morning." I grunted a reply, but my pencil was temporarily across my mouth under my lips because I don't have three hands. I turned to find a happy face between hat and scarf, and thankfully she kept the energized dog on a short leash. "What are you studying?" she asked with genuine interest. "Oh, I'm just tree hunting," and I presented the map as proof. She pointed to the Noble house location on the paper, "Oh, yes, that's where I live. They say it's either a Grand fir or a Noble fir, but nobody knows for sure." "It's a Noble, see it says so on the tree list. Besides the Grand would be dark green and your Noble has bluish needles." I could have continued that the "leaves" are more stout and radially arranged on Noble compared to the relatively flat position of the Grand, but I didn't want to burden her with over-presentation. Keep it short and simple.
The dog kept tugging at her with better things to do than stand and chat, so she wished me well. If I could have encountered the woman at the end of her dog-walk, she might have invited this cold, old stranger in for tea and biscuits. Who knows, maybe we'll meet again this spring in her 'hood. I wondered if there was a way to send her the Overlook blog...
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Once again I was too quick to judge the activities at the Overlook Park "house." It is now a community center, as evidenced by the sign which I initially overlooked. So, a different kind of "overlook" than the same name of the park and neighborhood.
The Overlook House website indicates it was built in1928 by Herman and Elvia Raven who owned the Raven creamery. Their milk and butter were a staple in many Portland homes of the period. The Ravens were civic-minded and encouraged the use of their home by neighborhood groups, such as the Overlook Woman's Club. In 1951, after the death of her husband, Mrs. Raven donated her home to the city of Portland to provide a community center. Since 2003, Stewardship of the house has been provided by the volunteers of Friends of the Overlook House through a special agreement with the city. I'll see if I can enter the Raven home when I am next in the area.
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