By Kathy Hughes

Contributing Writer

During this fall, at a subconscious level, I have been aware of beautiful golden trees outside my window, but they blended in nicely with the other autumn foliage, so I took no particular notice. On Thanksgiving day, my subconscious snapped into awareness as I gazed out the window — something here was oddly out of place. Among a few evergreens, the trees in the woods were bare, except for these brilliant gold ones. I couldn’t believe my eyes — they were Larch trees. I hadn’t seen, or, I should say “noticed,” Larch trees in our area for over 45 years.

Trees have always been a favorite of mine. The shapes formed by their branches, their colors and the way they move with the wind, making sounds heard only elsewhere by the sea. Imagine my shock when my newly transplanted New York City neighbors reacted to my pointing out the lovely maple trees by saying, “How can you tell?”

This was my wake-up to the point that not everyone shared my familiarity and fascination with trees. Therefore, it is with considerable pleasure that I can introduce some of you to the Larch.

A five-second course in tree studies explains there are two types of trees: evergreens and deciduous. But wrong! The Larch, or Tamarack, is a mysterious exception to this since they are “evergreens” (strictly speaking, they are conifers), but they turn color in the fall as a prelude to shedding their needles. So, when is an evergreen not an evergreen? When it is a Larch.

New York is the southernmost area where natural Larch trees grow, as these trees thrive in subarctic and even Arctic climates. They don’t like growing in the shadows of other trees, so they usually are not found in forests or deep woods.

The Eastern variety of Larch is often called Tamarack, which the Abnaki Indians (resident in New England) translate as “snowshoe wood.” This reflects only one of the many uses for Tamarack wood, and why names like “Tamarack Lodge” or “Larch Haven” occur throughout northern New York and New England. Obviously, they do not serve as Christmas trees, so that, at least, is one benefit of their disguise.

It is not hard to imagine that some Larch are cut down by someone thinking they are just a dead fir tree, not realizing that in spring and summer they live as fir trees, and in early fall they camouflage as deciduous trees, before becoming dormant in the winter.

I don’t know whether the Larch growing out my window grew there naturally, or were planted sometime ago, but I am so thankful to have them. Surely, their golden needles will fall away soon, but this is the one time of year when they reveal their presence before blending in with the other bare, winter trees.