COTTONWOOD CREEK, Idaho -- It's been 35 years since Loren Lynn Newman started the life's labor that had some neighbors wondering what kind of nut had moved next door.
Now the nearby farms and houses are visible from Newman's home only in winter, when hardwood trees thriving on former fields of hay and open pasture yield their leaves to the dark and chill of approaching winter.And the nuts, by the thousands of pounds, belong to Newman, his wife, Dotty, and the wildlife that thrive on his 95 acres of woodland about a mile off U.S. Highway 12 on the Gifford-Reubens Road east of Lewiston.
Newman's trees come from all over the United States. There are 30 species of oak alone, along with maples, ash, chestnut, hickory and many others -- perhaps 2,000 to 3,000 trees in all, 60 different species and varieties.
But who's counting?
"Once I got started it got to snowballing, like the tail wagging the dog," says Newman, a robust 80-year-old retired construction man.
He rambles up and down the hills of his forest with comfortable, long strides, pointing out the peeling trunk of the shellbark hickory or the subtle differences in leaves among the oaks. A barred owl watching the discussion 20 feet away in the fading daylight seems hardly worthy of mention.
Newman spent about 20 years planting and caring for his trees, most of which he started from seed. He cleared the brush and weeds from around them each day, and fashioned collars from screen or chicken wire to protect them from meadow mice and cottontails.
He worked steadily for about half of each of the first 20 years he owned the place, with no thought of eventual harvest. And didn't worry about the neighbors.
"They just thought I was off a notch or two and let it go at that."
Was it an exercise in faith? A spiritual connection to the forest? An overabundant affection for the hardwood country of Wisconsin, the state where he grew up before leaving in a Depression-era boxcar at age 15?
If it is, Newman isn't saying.
"I just naturally like hardwood trees, I guess," he says, almost embarrassed at someone trying to make too much of his woodland. "They give you shade in the summer and shelter in the winter."
But it's clear Newman enjoys his trees. He has about two dozen simple two-piece seats scattered around his forest where he stops and contemplates during his daily walks and admits to kicking a leaf or two in the chill of October just for fun.
The largest trees, mostly silver maples in the wetter bottom land, range to 2 feet in diameter near their bases, while others, on the drier slopes above, may be 8 inches or less.
Each tree is planted where it is most likely to survive. Thirsty Eastern species are at home in the draws, bottom land and lower bench, with the more drought-tolerant Western species populating the drier ridges.
Southwestern species were selected from high elevations to survive in the northern climate of Idaho. Newman took an altimeter with him on a trip to New Mexico to ensure he was above 7,000 feet when collecting plants for his northern woods.
It was on a tree-gathering trip to West Virginia that he met Dotty. They married after a long-distance courtship, and she joined him in Idaho.
Newman cultivated his tree expertise from experience and a few valued books. In recent years, experience has been enough.
"I quit reading books on trees because mostly all I was doing was picking out the mistakes in them."
Experts from the University of Idaho have tagged many of his trees, and tour groups occasionally come through. Visitors are welcome, but Newman cautions the dry weather the last two months has muted the fall color. But Dotty isn't convinced.
"He says that every year."