Two stately European beech trees stand by the old Portsmouth library. I marvel at such magnificent trees in this crowded space. I feared the opening of the new library a few blocks north would spell disaster for the two sentry trees, but although one is now damaged, both still remain.

The delicate three winged nuts that fall to the ground around them are more numerous some years than others, producing a bountiful mast crop every one to three years. I pick some of them up on autumn days to put in pine cone wreaths.

Lately I’ve noticed other wondrous beech trees about town. A muscular European beech on South Street stretches three trunk sized limbs to the sky in a graceful twist. The sinewy gray trunks take on a silver cast in the evening light. Habitually a late bloomer, it unfolds a canopy of maroon leaves that shades the elephantine trunk all summer. By late November all of them disappear save for a few that hang resolutely on the lower branches all winter.

Snowflakes on the limbs create a lacy pattern. Snow also accentuates the elephant skin bark. Huge branches twist together as the tree grows upward. I watch this tree in all seasons, and delight in the web like patterns cast by its shadows.

Beeches grow throughout Portsmouth. According to Cooperative Extension Forest Resources Educator Phil Auger, at the turn of the 20th century, European beech and Norway spruce were the favorite to plant in formal gardens. These trees are slow to grow, and we are privileged to see them in their mature grandeur. They’ve lived more than a century, no longer on the outskirts, but within neighborhoods, as Portsmouth grew and surrounded them.

You can find a large weeping beech on Woodbury Avenue, a subtype of the European beech. In summer, cascades of thick dark green leaves grow profusely, waiting until fall to reveal the tree’s thick, braided trunks. One might think it a willow in the summer, the way the branches bend over in a gracious bow.

I imagine the picnics held years ago under its canopy and the young boys climbing on the branches. Were poor folks allowed to enjoy these trees, or did they just tend the gardens of Frank Jones, the beer magnate? Years later when his mansion became the Poor House on the outskirts of Portsmouth, impoverished folks definitely could play there. The mansion, stables and outer buildings are now apartments.

There are other massive beech trees around town, each competing for the title of most beautiful. How wonderful to find such treasure! Two more European beeches grow off Maplewood, just before it crosses Woodbury Avenue, near the Frank Jones Mansion. One can imagine this landscape in years past.

Others love visiting these beeches as much as I do. One woman from Dover told me she visits two beech trees on Austin Street every time she comes to Portsmouth. Strength and beauty and history stand firm.

Although Portsmouth preserved the old for decades, when richer cities tore down for the latest fad, the city has rapidly lost many open spaces to large blocks of nondescript buildings and generic landscaping that looks the same wherever in the world it appears. Passersby a hundred years from now will see no grand beech trees in front of these buildings.

In spite of the changes around them, I am grateful for the fidelity of the trees I love, and for the Victorians who planted for future generations. Each expert I ask knows whereof I speak and also marvels at the beauty of these European beeches.

By Carla Marvin, Community Tree Steward