((L-R) Malheur Rimrock, Natures Brushstrokes and Otter Bench by Pamela Beaverson)
The western juniper is a ubiquitous and paradoxically dual natured tree that those of us in Central Oregon either love or love to hate. Half of us enjoy the smell of it burning in our wood stove as it keeps us cozy on a cold winter night, the flavor it adds to our gin, or the character of its ancient twisted trunks. The other half consider it an invasive, water hogging trash tree.
It used to be that the juniper knew its place. Junipers quietly clung to rocky crags and poor soil in places that other plants dare not grow, proving its resilient nature. Historically, periodic wildfires kept its range in check, as junipers do not fare well in a fire and do not successfully compete with fire-adapted native grasses and wildflowers. But then we came, settlers and immigrants, aiming to tame the high desert and bend the land to our will. Years of fire suppression and soil depletion from cattle grazing turned the tide in favor of the juniper. The success of the juniper in our landscape echoes our own success at taming the land.
By now, dear reader, you surely realize that I am of the half that admires the juniper. I love the huge old trees east of town, with their gnarled and twisted trunks that appear to spring from lava flows and exposed rock. I find inspiration in their rough and varied form, the contrast of their green needles against red lava rock, and the way their canopy frames the sky. If you are of the opposing half, I encourage you to walk the trails of nearby Oregon Badlands Wilderness and look at the trees with the eyes of an artist. Until then, I will continue to admire and find inspiration in our western juniper and slowly win you over to the side of the juniper with paint on canvas.