I recently took the train from Salt Lake City to California, my first such experience in decades. Each mile, my train passed over 3,000 railroad ties — nearly all of them made from trees.
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I recently took the train from Salt Lake City to California, my first such experience in decades. Each mile, my train passed over 3,000 railroad ties — nearly all of them made from trees.
I recently took the train from Salt Lake City to California, my first such experience in decades. Each mile, my train passed over 3,000 railroad ties — nearly all of them made from trees.
With the holidays come evergreen wreaths on people's doors and windows — which got host Nalini Nadkarni asking: Where does all of this holiday greenery come from?
The first time I helped my mom make a pumpkin pie for our Thanksgiving dinner, my job was to retrieve the spaces for the filling. I knew what cinnamon and nutmeg were, but what in the world was allspice?
In the four decades that I've studied treetop biology, I've always focused on canopy-dwelling plants. But forests also support a fascinating array of arboreal animals.
Trees grace many works of fiction. Think of the magnificent treehouse in “The Swiss Family Robinson,” a beautiful, elevated place of safety on a deserted island.
Clarinets are made from a tree in the rosewood family, a dense hardwood that allows makers to create instruments with long vibrations and resonant tones.
On a recent visit to south Florida, I was intrigued to learn about Spanish moss, a plant that looks like wispy gray hair draped in the crowns of live oak and other trees in subtropical woodlands.
The world of trees creates many superlatives — the oldest tree, the tallest tree — but I bet that the quaking aspen is the world's liveliest tree. Its round leaves flutter in the slightest breeze.
I’ve always thought of forests and the sea as two distinct and separate systems. But there is a connector: driftwood — which brings elements of living forests to coastal marine life.
When I hike in the coastal forests of Washington State, I’m intrigued by sighting "culturally modified trees," or CMTs. These are living trees that have been visibly modified by indigenous peoples for use in their cultural traditions.
I recently took the train from Salt Lake City to California, my first such experience in decades. Each mile, my train passed over 3,000 railroad ties — nearly all of them made from trees.