Sycamore—Platanus occidentalis

We have two families of sycamore trees along our path. This is the first time I've had the chance to spend time with this intriguing tree, and I think I'm in love.

The bark of these elegant giants is quite different than what you find on a maple or oak. It's silvery in color and peels or flakes off in curls about the size of my hand, primarily in the spring.

Its seeds are packed tight in balls about the size of the ones familiar to anyone who golfs. And the leaves are just huge.

Their fall to the ground is timed between the early flurry of the maples, birches and sumacs, and the oaken blanket that will cover my lawn in about a week.

Most of the sycamores in our woods reside near the river but not quite on the banks, with one exception. There's one specimen that towers over the north point of our land, and it sends its leafy messengers down to the water's surface in a slow motion cascade. They land like delicate cups on the surface of the stream, swirl in the eddies that circle close to the shore, and then join the watery surge downstream.

Lovely, absolutely lovely.