Growing up on a farm in Alberta, I always felt that the aspen trees knew me. Those perfect little coins of green: no swagger, just pure joy. The tiny round leaves waved, trembled and rustled with a soft, conversational energy, as if acknowledging my presence each time I wandered past. Even now, decades later, that sound instantly pulls me back to childhood: crusty rubber boots, the sweet smell of a cow pasture and wide‑open skies. The gentle whisper of aspen leaves feels like a welcome back greeting to simpler days.
The Golden Glow That Never Lasted Long Enough
If summer aspens felt alive, fall aspens felt enchanted. Alberta’s foothills have a way of turning autumn into a spectacle, and aspens are the headliners. Their transformation from green to gold is so sudden and so brilliant it almost feels theatrical—like nature saving its best performance for the final act.
Some years, the aspens hold their colour for a couple of days; other years, only a handful of weeks before the first hard snowstorm sweeps in. One moment the hills are glowing yellow, and the next they stand bare and grey, bracing for winter. That fleeting beauty makes the season feel unpredictable, fleeting and precious.
One of my favourite childhood memories of the changing colours is the drive to Drayton Valley from Alder Flats as a kid. Crossing the big bridge on Highway 22 over the North Saskatchewan River, the valley would open up in a burst of colour. The riverbanks, lined with dense stands of aspen, in contrast with the folding blue of the river felt like the whole landscape was a living, breathing colour wheel. Even now, I can close my eyes and see that deep yellow radiance. It was pure magic.
Looking Up at History
As an artist, I’ve always felt compelled to painting trees from the ground looking up. Art collectors often comment on this perspective, wondering why I choose it so consistently. The truth is simple: it makes me feel like a kid again.
When you lie beneath an aspen stand and look up, the world becomes a mosaic of trembling leaves, shifting light, and endless sky. It’s a perspective of wonder. But recently, I learned it’s also a perspective of history.
Aspens aren’t just individual trees—they’re families. Entire stands can grow from a single root system, spreading across hectares as new stems sprout from the same ancient network underground. Some aspen clones are hundreds, even thousands, of years old. So, when you look up at a cluster of aspen trunks, you’re not just seeing trees. You’re seeing generations of growth, all connected, all sharing the same roots.
Aspens: Nature’s Reclamation Experts
This interconnected root system is more than poetic—it’s practical. In fact, it’s one of the reasons aspens are so important in land reclamation.
According to research from the University of Alberta, aspens are considered a crucial species in boreal forest restoration because of how they grow, how they reproduce, and how they shape the soil around them. After disturbances like fire, or in the case of reclamation, aspens can rapidly regenerate through clonal sprouting. A single root system can send up new shoots across 40 or more hectares, allowing the forest to re‑establish quickly.
Their leaves also play a vital role. When they fall and decompose, they enrich the soil, helping rebuild the forest floor from scratch. This makes aspens foundational in creating the conditions needed for other species to return.
Researchers have spent decades refining how to grow strong, resilient aspen seedlings for reclamation sites, especially since companies may plant hundreds of thousands each year. Their fast growth, soil‑building abilities, and natural resilience make them indispensable in restoring disturbed landscapes.
In other words, aspens aren’t just beautiful, they’re hardworking. There is a noble existence to something that is gentle but strong, delicate but determined. They shake and shimmy in the slightest breeze yet endure the harshest of northern Alberta winters. They grow fast, spread wide, all while quietly rebuilding the world beneath our feet.
Aspens have shaped the landscapes of my past, inspired my art, and now, through reclamation science, they’re shaping the landscapes of the future.
The collection at Hotel Arts has a print of Aspen Amigos take the time to check it out during the cold winter months. The colours will certainly brighten your day. To learn more about the aspen tree as part of reclamation, click here for an article on New Killam Professor Simon Landhäusser by Michael Brown (published February1, 2018)