A tight wrap of velcro tape and a bright purple bag clip make a splint.
When the rescue dogs found it, blood pressure was hard to detect, pulse was thready, and vitals were unknown, but there were buds as of March.
It's hard to believe this fragile twig, snapped almost in two and now limping through spring with a ridiculous purple clip holding it together, will ever become the glorious yellow flowered tree that Marie documented this spring in Manhattan's Battery Park: see her photos from March on her blog at 66 Square Feet.
Cornus mas is a dogwood, but it's unusual. It has a haze of golden yellow flowers in March and April, and it's a big shrubby tree. It's the earliest dogwood to bloom, and it looks like a big forsythia, but far more elegantly shaped and way more dapper in full flower:
|from Chicago Botanic Garden's "Illinois' Best Plants"|
Here's an ancient one I saw last summer, limbed up and loosely espaliered in the kitchen convent garden at The Cloisters Museum in New York:
Cornus mas is called Corneliancherry, and it has small red fruits. The reason it was cultivated in cloister gardens in the middle ages was because the cherries were an important fruit crop that could grow in a small space. Garden advice articles say it should be sited away from walkways or patios, as the birds love the cherries and tend to make a mess with them.
|from Edible Landscaping.com|
Tell me, will mine survive? It is so tiny and so grievously injured. Rehab will be long and protracted, and I don't know if I can stand looking at that purple clip in my garden all summer.