The call has come on many occasions. Someone has a bonsai collection that's become too much to handle, and now the trees need a new home. Our entire bonsai enterprise at the Arboretum began with just such a call, when the Staples family reached out to us about their mother's collection. The situation that prompts the call is almost always sad because it signals the end of someone's bonsai journey. The journey often starts with a random purchase of an inexpensive bonsai tree, or sometimes the first tree is a gift. Whatever its origin, the inauspicious starter tree becomes an entryway to a great hobby that soon mushrooms into something like an obsession. The person on the journey gathers bonsai to them as they go, until it ends up they have a big bonsai collection and it's more trees than they can possibly handle. They love bonsai so well they just want to be surrounded by them and never let a single one of them go. Time goes by and eventually reality intrudes. Often, by the time the Arboretum gets the call, the little trees have become a burden and are suffering and something needs to happen as soon as possible. In other cases, the person who owns the trees sees what's coming and does what they know they have to do, making certain the trees are cared for beyond that person's own ability to care for them.

In one particular instance, there was a man who was doing all he could to make arrangements for his bonsai trees while he was still able, but misfortune intervened. The man's name was Phil Gatov and he lived in Maryland. Phil contacted me via email in October of 2019, explaining that he had a large collection of bonsai and wanted to make a donation. He and I entered into a lengthy exchange of messages wherein we negotiated what would be possible. When someone has a good bonsai collection and offers to donate it to a public garden, they are generally thinking in terms of their trees going into a permanent situation. That is, they want their bonsai to become part a public collection where the trees are professionally maintained and displayed for large numbers of people to enjoy. It's not difficult to understand why the donor would like to see that happen! The view from the institution's side is different, however. There are numerous issues to consider, but the bottom line is one of capacity. There is only so much capacity for properly maintaining bonsai in a public collection, so not every donation can be accepted. There is no benefit to anyone if a bonsai donation is accepted and then the trees are not properly maintained.

Phil was hoping the majority of the bonsai in the collection he was offering us would become part of the Arboretum's permanent collection. For reasons of honesty I had to let him know that wouldn't be the case. I explained to him that a few of his trees might become part of the collection but the great majority would not. Donated bonsai not accepted to become part of the Arboretum collection would most likely be sold at auction, raising funds to help support the Arboretum's bonsai program. Phil was not keen on this idea because, naturally, he thought his trees were pretty good and he cared a great deal about them. That's where the negotiations came in, and we went back and forth on the matter for several months. Phil finally agreed he would make his donation and let the Arboretum decide what to keep and what to auction. He was old and tired and his health was poor. Phil's main concern, beyond having some of his bonsai in our collection, was that all his little trees should go to good homes. He had sent me pictures of his bonsai so I knew he did have some good individual specimens and a generally respectable collection all around. I was thinking ahead to the twenty-fifth Carolina Bonsai Expo, slated for June of 2020, and thinking that trees from Phil would be excellent for the auction at that event. We would have a large crowd of experienced bonsai people at that auction, the kind who could give a bonsai a good home, and Phil's trees would be very attractive.

In January Phil and I finally reached agreement and I promised I'd come get his trees in April. In March I had to send him an email saying this:

As of this writing, the State of NC is under a "Stay At Home" order issued by the Governor. Beyond that, the NC Arboretum is partially shut down, all work-related travel is prohibited, and all expenditures are frozen until further notice. The short of it is, there is no way I can come now for your trees, and there is no saying when that will change.

I am certain this leaves you in a very unfortunate and unhappy situation regarding your bonsai. You acted in their best interest and were expecting they would not be your concern this year, but now the arrangements we made for me to take them off your hands are fallen through. I am sorry for this turn of events, although there is not a thing I can do to rectify it, or could have done to avoid it.

At first, Phil thought the shutdown and all the rest of it was overreaction, but events over time forced him to change his mind. He stayed in touch with me about his trees on a periodic basis throughout the pandemic. Phil was having a very rough time of it, and so, consequently, were his bonsai. It was an anxious and worrisome time, and making an overnight road trip to go pick up a large number of additional trees to take care of was not an appealing thought. It was a different story for Phil. He needed for his bonsai to go somewhere else as soon as possible and he was reaching the point of desperation. Finally, in the spring of 2021, as "normal" life was tentatively beginning to resume, he and I once again made arrangements for me to rent a truck and head up to Maryland. There were so many hoops to jump through now because of how circumstances had changed, and new obstacles kept presenting themselves. The whole venture seemed star-crossed from the start. I felt sympathy for Phil's plight, though, because I know how it is for bonsai growers and their little trees. I had given him my word, too, so I was obliged to do what I had promised to do.

After receiving your latest communication yesterday morning, I made arrangements to speak with a higher-up manager about the situation as it now stands. He asked if there was a clear case of need for the Arboretum to take on this proposed donation. I told him there was not. He asked how the timing was for us to be taking on so many new bonsai right now, and I told him it was awful. He asked if it was something I thought we should do, and I said yes. He asked why I thought so, and I explained the situation. He said to go ahead and do what I thought best.

It all worked out in the end. After two years of developing a respectfully familiar relationship while exchanging email, I finally met Phil. There wasn’t much left to him by that time. He was small, old and pale, with a rattling ghost-like air about him. His trees were ghost-like, too. They were in pretty sorry condition by now — rank and overgrown, with dead parts here and there. Some bonsai that had been nice specimens at the time Phil first contacted me were now no longer among the living. For all his diminished state and dismal circumstance, Phil seemed happy to see me and pleased to have company. We talked comfortably in a low key manner as I went about loading the truck, and he kept apologizing for not being able to help. It became evident after a little conversation that Phil's world was collapsing all around him. He was selling his nice home and he couldn't drive anymore. He was sorry about how it had gone for his bonsai, sorry they had grown so wild, but he had done everything he could just to keep them alive. Now Phil was truly relieved to see them being taken away — it was a bittersweet burden being lifted off his shoulders. I wanted to do more for him and made the offer to help with anything I could. He asked for help with a little chore, which I took care of, then he said I should be going and wished me well. I wished him the same and drove away. I had a long ride home to think about the whole business.

The trees all made it back to Asheville, safe and sound. I sent Phil a message telling him so, and telling him I appreciated all he had done to deliver his bonsai into our hands. Phil responded with gratitude for the way it all worked out. That was the last I heard from him or about him. When I set out to write this account, I first sent an email to Phil. It came back as undeliverable.

Phil Gatov's entire donation was held by the Arboretum for more than a year, allowing time for recovery. All the plants — more than thirty and mostly on the large side — were repotted and work was done to restore their bonsai design as much as was possible. Most of Phil's donated collection was sold at an auction held at the Arboretum as part of the Bonsai as Fine Art show in June of 2023. The auction was well attended by generous people who supported the Arboretum's bonsai program by buying trees, yielding a substantial financial benefit. I like to think all the people who went home with one of Phil's trees appreciated what they had acquired and accepted responsibility for their new bonsai with best intentions. After that, it's up to what life brings.

Three of Phil's trees were accepted into the Arboretum collection. I suspect he'd be disappointed at that number, but he never saw our collection. Getting three donated trees into the Arboretum's bonsai collection at this stage of the game is an achievement. What follows is a brief account of what has happened with each of those three specimens:

Korean Hornbeam (Carpinus turczaninovii)

Aged Korean hornbeam bonsai with nice trunks aren’t commonly found in these parts, so this tree caught my eye right away. Of all the bonsai in the donation, this rugged old specimen came through the ordeal most intact. Someone must have pruned on it at some point. A few branches had been lost, but their absence seemed only to make this hornbeam look even more authentically craggy. Here’s how it looked shortly after arriving at the Arboretum, before any work was done:

This set of photos shows the tree one year after it arrived. Several prunings had already taken place and the tree had been transplanted (click on either image for full view):

April 2022

A year later and the hornbeam is growing strong, now planted in an early Robert Wallace pot (click on either image for full view):

April 2023

The Korean hornbeam had its bonsai garden debut earlier this year:

This specimen presents well from two opposite perspectives (click on either image for full view):

July 2024

There wasn’t much needed doing with this bonsai, beyond cleaning it up and giving it a good pot. The idea going forward is simply to continue developing ramification in the branching. Otherwise, the plan is to just let this tree shine on as a nicely formed, old Korean hornbeam with great character.

Trident Maple (Acer buergerianum)

The wild overgrowth and sections of dieback found on this maple were typical of many of the donated bonsai as they were received. In sizing up this particular specimen, I was most impressed by its large trunk with many old wounds (click on either image for full view):

September 2021

My idea for styling this tree was to assertively cut back the branching in order to minimize it, putting maximum ephasis on the dramatically battered trunk:

Branch development in summer two years later:

In spring of this year the maple was repotted. The current container is temporary, but I think the size and shape of it are good. The photo below shows the tree as it looked just prior to a recent pruning session:

The gallery below shows multiple different views of this trident as it currently looks. The foliage has impressively reduced in size, enhancing the minimalist feeling of the crown. The trunk might accurately be described as grotesque. That sort of character doesn’t appeal to everyone, but I find it fascinating (click on any image for full view):

Holes in trees — whether full size trees in the landscape or miniature trees in pots — are compelling features. A hole in a tree might be the entrance to some creature’s home, or several holes may make the tree itself appear to be a wildly anthropomorphic creature with a mouth or eyes. The wounds on this maple are old enough that there is visible evidence of the tree’s long sustained efforts to respond to the damage. The ridge of callous material around the wounds, attempting to cover them over, provides an authentic effect.

Chinese Hackberry (Celtis sinensis)

The immediate appeal of this large specimen was its species — Chinese hackberry was not previously represented in our collection. Beyond that, the bizarre shape of this tree struck me as a challenge. I’m not certain what it could have looked like in its prime, back before it went through an extended period of neglect, but it’s hard to imagine this hackberry as ever having had a traditional bonsai configuration. Whatever it once was, as I saw it this tree was destined to have a naturalistic, free-form sort of design.

Here is how the hackberry looked the first growing season after coming to the Arboretum, before any work was done with it:

The first two photos in the gallery below show the tangle of random branching this hackberry had at the outset. The second two photos show the results of the initial styling session in 2022 (click on any image for full view):

March 2022, before

March 2022, after

In 2023 the top of this tree was further reduced, but no photos were made. The image below depicts the hackberry as it appeared before a recent styling session this year:

The results of the latest styling:

Alternate views of the Chinese hackberry as it currently exists (click on any image for full view):

What a strange tree this is! It reminds me of a tardigrade. I’m still not certain what form it will ultimately take, but working with it has so far proven a pleasurable aesthetic puzzle. The end result is bound to be unique.

A Donation Story