Last winter, I was walking across Central Park on a wet day that had started out with snow, but which had graduated to a foggy mist. I passed the central allee of the park that has the American elms flanking it going south from the band shell. I was so impressed by the site of the wild branches against the white snow, that I snapped a photo on my phone. I wasn’t alone in my appreciation as virtually the same photo appeared in the Sunday NY Times that weekend.
Allees of trees have been cultivated for many years, probably thousands, as trees serve as both hedges and windbreaks. There is a majestic quality to a mature set of trees lining either a road or path. The older roads in England, indeed all through Europe, were often lined with trees. The Dutch elm disease laid waste to one of my favorite roads in Sussex as hundreds, if not thousands of elm trees died from the disease. It actually created a glut of elm veneer on the market as well.
Allees are not always the same tree. One house owner in England decided to create an allee with trees that ran the alphabet. It is an eccentric idea as the aesthetic value of the allee is compromised by all the different shapes of the various trees, but it is, without doubt, a tree lovers rebus. I can’t say that I would have recognized it right away, but if I was told that there was something special to the allee, I might have figured it out.
Another famous allee is one of laburnum trees that has been trained across a frame at Bodnant Garden in North Wales. I have seen this when the laburnum trees were in full flower and it is extraordinarily striking. But I have to say that the elms in Central Park are among the most breath taking allees I have seen. The rarity of mature elms, the way their branches swoop up and out, and the substantial number of them lined up in opposing rows is just fabulous.