As we stroll by a Norway Spruce Cobra puddling on the ground in East Hampton, founder of Folly Tree Arboretum Tucker Marder points to an extremely weeping willow. “When you’re growing 100,000 trees, just like in a population of people, you’re bound to have one individual who says, ‘I’m a lazy tree.’” We’ve passed clones of trees that have been to the moon or written about by Anne Frank in her diary, but it’s this ordinary spruce with the moody mien that stops me in my tracks.
Growing up in Southampton, my summers were defined not by the tightly permitted beaches or imported-from-Manhattan restaurants that attracted summer crowds like moths to a flame, but by the trees. As an only child, the neighborhood oaks were my first friends, and the life they supported—cicadas humming and owls hooting—kept me company at night. I spent my twenties swinging away rosé hangovers in the hammock of my best friend’s backyard, under glorious maples. Later, it wasn’t the invite-only parties or the chic boutiques that ultimately drew me back to the Hamptons to live year-round—it was the trees.
Now, face-to-trunk with the most maudlin tree I’ve ever met, I realize I’ve taken my hometown’s fragile flora for granted. On the heels of our driest season on record, the gadflies about town are buzzing not about the traffic, but about the pests, diseases, and climate concerns threatening the trees.
A cadre of local arborists, eco-artists, and tribal leaders are protecting the primeval superstars that made the Hamptons the Hamptons in the first place. So, this summer, take the road less traveled and visit these less-touristed herbaceous haunts in support of its (hopefully) flourishing arbol future.
Shinnecock Nation
On any given summer day, 38,000 commuter cars inch across the Shinnecock Canal, and past the oldest Hamptonite: a 300-year-old beech that has miraculously resisted rampant Beech Leaf Disease. Due to the Shinnecock Nation’s advocacy, the now-designated heritage tree’s colossal presence is protected for future generations.
“All Shinnecock have our own unique relationship with the trees,” says Rebekah Phoenix Wise, the Shinnecock Nation’s communications manager. “We’re foragers, scientists, and land-use attorneys—but above all, we’re stewards of nature.” She recommends keeping “an eye on the Nation’s Instagram to hear about impromptu nature and foraging walks offered by community naturalists.” Until the indigenous plant garden reopens, Wise touts “Little Beach Harvest, an innovative concept shop run by the tribe where you can learn more about our connection to traditional plant medicine.” Shop for handcrafted sage oils or enjoy art exhibits, live concerts, and film screenings.
LongHouse Reserve
“LongHouse Reserve is the Hamptons’ best-kept secret,” says director Carrie Barratt, whose resume includes The Metropolitan Museum of Art and New York Botanical Garden. Whether it’s picnicking among otherworldly sculptures by the likes of Yoko Ono and Willem de Kooning, or partaking in walking meditations, tai chi, and watercolor painting, there’s a plein-air pursuit for all. In 1975, late textile designer Jack Larsen designed his Shinto shrine-inspired home (opening to the public soon) and the surrounding 16 acres with limited funds. Relying on imagination, he magicked into existence a secret garden of donated trees and jaw-dropping art. “It was through his fruitful relationships to the Rockefellers, that the East Coast’s only coast redwoods ended up here first,” Barratt adds. “And here they thrive.”
Madoo Conservancy
At Madoo Conservancy in Sagaponack, gingko trees frame a cluster of box balls—a riff on Alice in Wonderland’s game of croquet that at first disorients and then delights. Formerly the home of Abstract-Expressionist painter and poet Robert Dash—a friend of Larsen—Madoo is a whimsical playground where weeping dogwood, squash gardens, and a pair of rare Japanese cedars compete in happy harmony. New for this summer, Madoo will debut an ADA-accessible visitor center with a small horticultural library. But it’s the scent of the Southern magnolia tree, flourishing much further north than reason dictates, that stays with you long after your visit.
Folly Tree Arboretum
Following the trend of once-private paradises now open to the public, Tucker Marder started Folly Tree Arboretum when his father, Charlie Marder, salvaged some of 600 specimen trees he’d helped plant at The Creeks, the legendary estate of late artist Alfonso Osario. Located in Springs, a neighborhood once home to Jackson Pollock, the passion project has blossomed into a cultural archive of trees. Every summer, the younger Marder hosts 2,000 visitors on private tours, pointing out Osage oranges, gargantuan neon cannonballs that roll down a hill leading what Tucker calls, “a subversive existence.” The arboretum’s calendar is funkily robust with an artist-in-residence series and ‘Sniffing Dinners’ wherein guests climb ladders to bask in the scent of a bigleaf magnolia that blooms, very exclusively, for only three days each summer.
The Ladies’ Village Improvement Society
Formerly the headquarters of British soldiers during the Revolutionary War, the Ladies’ Village Improvement Society’s (LVIS) collection of vintage shops houses a new guard of conservationists. Since 1895, LVIS’ 300-plus members have protected the verdant beauty of East Hampton Village, raising funds to tend to 3,500 trees. “When a tree comes down, we hear about it,” notes Olivia Brooks, Chairwoman of the LVIS Tree Committee. Meandering the bucolic streets that branch out from LVIS is to witness the group’s creative fundraising efforts—more than 800 plaques have been memorialized for “artists, writers, grandmothers, and even a dog named ‘Cleopatra,’” says Brooks. In lieu of adopting a tree, support LVIS mission by perusing vintage clothing, furniture, books, and art or bask in the beauty of the property’s sunken stone-walled garden, surrounded by rings of daylilies.
Nature’s gifts are abundant on the East End, whether you get your kicks shopping for sumptuous specimen trees at Marders and Whitmores or sipping syrah at Channing Daughter’s Winery, nestled within 100-plus acres of conserved land. Yet, as Marder reminds us—gravitas belying the clowning atmosphere of our earlier interlude—“the best thing for big old trees is just to be left alone.”