Recent travels in our region reminded me of the prominent role played by red maple (Acer rubrum) in the beauty of spring. The flowers of red maple are small and colorful, and although they are exquisite in detail their greatest effect is en masse when seen from a distance. The multitude of tiny flowers covering the entire crown of the tree appear before the leaves do, announcing themselves as a red or orange haze. Scanning over a forested mountainside of bare deciduous trees, the red maples stand out because they are among the very first native trees trees to show life after winter dormancy. For that reason, they are welcome harbingers of a new season.

The red maple springtime show hardly ends there, though. Following closely on the heels of the flowers, samaras appear in even more colorful profusion. A samara is a dry fruit, essentially a seed contained in a papery skin. Maple samaras are produced in pairs and their propeller-like shape is immediately recognizable to anyone who lives in vicinity of a maple tree. The fruits are individually showy, but just as with the flowers, their best effect is when seen collectively from a distance. Rather than appearing as a haze, the fruit display of red maple is more full bodied and substantial. The whole crown of the tree becomes a mass of color ranging from warm orange to peach, salmon or bright red. Neither the flowers nor the fruit last very long, but taken together they provide a fairly extended display that becomes richer as it progresses.

There is plenty of opportunity to observe and admire red maples. They are the most numerous native tree species in Eastern North America, according to the US Forest Service. Red maples grow in just about any site condition, from dry ridge tops in the mountains to lowland swamps. They can be found in Canada or Florida and as far west as Texas. In the best of circumstances red maples grow straight and tall, reaching heights in excess of one hundred twenty-five feet. In poorer sites they can be scraggly and multi-stemmed.

In autumn the foliage color of red maple is so outstanding it exceeds the subtle beauty of the spring display, and is the feature for which the species is best known. Again, the color varies greatly from individual to individual, with any color from lemon yellow to fire truck red and all shades between being a possibility. That variability seems to be characteristic of the species in a number of its features. The bark is light gray and smooth on juvenile trees, becoming darker, fissured and scaly with maturity. Yet some trees retain the smooth bark well into adulthood while others acquire the more textured mature bark at an earlier age, and on some red maples the bark scales peel outward to give a shaggy appearance. The leaves, too, can assume a number of different forms, all variations on the same general theme. They can range in size from two to four inches in length, with some even larger than that.

The question of leaf size presents a good point for shifting focus from an appreciation of red maple as a tree species to an appraisal of its potential as a bonsai subject. If you were to poll bonsai growers in the United States as to whether or not red maple is good for bonsai use, the most common answer would be no. The reason for rejection most people would cite is the size of the leaves. I've also been told the petioles (leaf stems) are too long, and the overall growth habit is too rank, resulting in long internodal distance. I learned of these objections early on in my bonsai career, as I made a habit of asking around about the possibility of using native species for bonsai and brought up red maple as a potential candidate. Three Asian species — Japanese maple (Acer palmatum), trident maple (Acer buergerianum) and Amur maple (Acer ginnala) — are all considered excellent for bonsai use. Why not red maple, which is abundantly available in Western North Carolina? The answers I heard from bonsai people I asked were so emphatically negative I became leery of even asking.

Then I went to study at the National Bonsai and Penjing Museum and lo and behold, there in the North American collection I saw a group planting of red maple that was done by American bonsai pioneer Vaughn Banting. This planting looked good to me and the leaves were small enough. The label on the plant indicated it was a naturally occurring variety of red maple known as swamp maple (Acer rubrum var. drummondii). I inquired and was told that swamp maple had smaller leaves to begin with, so if a person was to use any sort of red maple it ought to be that variety. Subsequent research into the available literature didn't seem to support the claim of smaller leaves. All the same, it clued me into the fact that the great overall variability of red maple features meant that I might search for an individual exhibiting smaller leaves and make use of it. I began looking more closely at any red maples I encountered wherever I went.

About this time, Arboretum bonsai volunteer Duane Clayburn came into work one day and asked if I had any interest in some red maple seedlings. Sure, I told him, I had interest, but did he know the tree the seedlings came from? He thought he did. I asked if that parent tree had smaller leaves and he said he thought it did. Okay, I told him, bring us some red maple seedlings. The next week Duane showed up with what looked like a long, narrow strip of sod, measuring about three inches wide and three inches deep, by about six feet in length. Only this sod wasn't grass, but consisted of countless little first-year red maple seedlings. I asked Duane where he found such an unusual thing. He said he collected it from his neighbor's roof gutter. This was a memorable lesson about the prolific nature of red maple and the high viability of the they seed produce.

That incident proved to have outsized influence on the nature of The North Carolina Arboretum's bonsai collection. We potted up maybe one hundred of those red maple seedlings and grew them on. Many were used later as plant material for bonsai classes and demonstrations, while others wound up being utilized in several tray landscapes that became well known pieces in the Arboretum's collection. A few, believe it or not, are still being developed into single-tree specimens more than twenty years later. Along the way I learned a great deal about working with red maple as a bonsai subject. I'll tell you this in all candor — they are really not the best tree species to use for that purpose. Trident maple, a traditional bonsai subject, is superior in almost every way.

Does that mean people shouldn't waste their time with red maples, as I was told when I asked about them long ago? Not at all. They can be used and they can make good bonsai, too. Red maples are challenging, and some people like a challenge. They're also a species native to our part of the world, and that means something to me. Beyond that, red maple as a species represents a vital element that is often wanting in bonsai collections: Diversity.

To be continued...

Red Maple For Bonsai - Part 1