WEEPING WILLOW
By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept
when we remembered Zion.
There on the poplars
we hung our harps
Those exiled Israelites of Psalm 137, weeping by the waters of Babylon, could not have known that centuries later, a Chinese tree with long, drooping branches would be christened Salix babylonica or, more commonly “weeping willow”. The great eighteenth century Swedish botanist, Linnaeus, well-schooled in biblical imagery, referred back to the psalm in an effort to find an evocative Latin epithet that would capture the trees’ distinctive growth habit.
As the psalm translation suggests, the trees in Babylon were not willows, but poplars, which are willow relatives. It doesn’t matter, since the name refers to the growth habit, not the tree variety. In the horticultural world, just about anything with drooping branches is described as “weeping”.
And that is how the weeping willow came by its melancholy name.
Today’s “weeping willow” is a large, graceful tree, up to 50 feet tall and almost equally wide, with narrow leaves and long, drooping branches that reach almost to the ground. Often the trees grow near water or at least in damp places. A willow tree growing on what appears to be high, dry ground may actually indicate the presence of underground water.
Despite its beauty and poetic associations, weeping willow is not right for all planting situations. The willows are very large at maturity, so the average urban or suburban lot is too small for a full-grown tree. Plant them too close to structures and the roots may infiltrate pipes or foundations, causing all kinds of trouble. Weeping willow rarely works as a street tree for the same reasons. These days many people also dislike trees that shed a large amount of “litter” in the form of dropped leaves, twigs and branches. Willows are always guilty when charged with littering.
Still, if you are planting a large lot, park or king-size rain garden, weeping willow is a perfect addition. It grows fast, provides excellent shade and its roots help to filter polluted run-off water.
Some sources say that the original Salix babylonica trees journeyed from China along the old “silk road” trade route that united Asia with the west and really took off after the Roman conquest of Egypt in 30 BCE. The trees eventually caught on in Europe and finally arrived in America with early settlers. Somewhere during that long span of time, the true species died out in the wild, replaced in commerce and landscapes by a hybrid with a weeping habit.
No matter what is going on with the weeping willow’s DNA, most people, including all plant vendors, still call the large, drooping trees Salix babylonica.
Earlier generations of people, who were more concerned with a tree’s utility than its grace, discovered that the weeping willow was a cornucopia of good things. Branch tips contain a natural rooting hormone, which is useful in the propagation of many species. The long, flexible branches have long been used for weaving baskets, furniture and wattle fencing. Centuries ago, willow was also bent and carved into harps, which is very much in keeping with the verses of Psalm 137.
Willow has also given us the gift of pain and inflammation relief in the form of salicylic acid. Derived from willow bark, which was traditionally steeped to make medicinal teas and other decoctions, salicylic acid is the active component in many common, over-the counter pain relievers. In the nineteenth century German chemists produced a souped-up, synthesized form of the traditional willow-based remedy and by 1899 it was marketed by Bayer under the brand name “aspirin”.
While late Victorians may have used a willow-derived product for pain, the previous generation was drawn to the tree’s symbolic “weeping” nature. Mourning was a prolonged and serious business in the mid to late Victorian period. Following the lead of Queen Victoria’s extreme mourning for her husband, Albert, who died in 1861, Victorians created all kinds of mourning rituals and talismans. Mourning art of the period often depicted weeping willows, sometimes in the company of funeral urns or other memorial memorabilia. Twentieth century illustrator, Edward Gorey, used this art as an inspiration for his black and white drawings.
Whether you are moved by willow’s traditional associations or not, it is hard to ignore the beauty of a mature specimen reflected in still water. If you have the right situation, a weeping willow is an excellent landscape investment.