Soil Begins

This young pine is growing out of an inch or two of granite dust, and pure granite. The red plant next to it is a succulent, probably Sedum obtusatum, a stonecrop.
There’s something elemental about high mountains. Everything’s stripped down. Rock. Plants. Water. It’s a perfect place to see how soil begins.
As far as I know, soil starts in one of two ways: things rot (usually plants), or rock breaks down. Usually, both are going on at once.
Rock breakdown is slow; we rarely think of it in our gardens at home. But it must be the original place where soil starts. In many of the places where we garden, the rotted plant matter has accrued so much that the soil obscures the place where it came from. (Although in many places where I’ve gardened, the rock layer was not all that far below the soil, and needed breaking up with a pickaxe.) In the mountains, extreme climate and topography mean that soil-making is always in its infancy.
On bare mountain rock, threadlike parts of lichens make a strong acid which breaks down granite, feeding the lichen. High mountain conifers can grow in just a tiny bit of this crushed granite. They then break up more rock with their roots, drop needles and eventually wood which rot and make more soil, so that other kinds of plants can grow there. Animals feeding on the plants do contribute organic matter one way and another, but the bulk of rotting material is plants.
This is the same pine tree as in the picture at the top. This is its root, going straight into crushed and solid granite.

This juniper root gets its nutrients the same way, and has become a large tree.

This dead tree has helped create a small plant community around its roots. It will soon fall over and add to the soil by rotting. Probably rain will wash a great deal of its rotten wood into the lake below, but some will stay in flat places and crevices along the way.
Reference:
Tracy I. Storer and Robert L. Usinger, Sierra Nevada Natural History, University of California Press, 1963. (They have recently come out with a more recent version, but this is the one I own and still use.)


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[...] This is the time of year when juniper berries are thick on the stem. These are the berries that gave gin its name (ginèvre is French for juniper) – and its peculiar flavor. So next time you hoist a classic gin cocktail, think of its origins, and salute the juniper. Junipers can be diminuitive bushes no higher than your ankle or shin, like our native Juniperus communis montana which (as the name implies) can be found in the mountains. Las Pilitas points out that this is a very adaptable plant: rock outcroppings are its native habitat, but it also thrives given garden soil, water, and plenty of sun. As you can see, rock outcroppings are the natural habitat of larger junipers, too. Our native Juniperus californica sets its roots right in rock, and is probably partly responsible for helping to break up some of this high Sierra granite (this tree was growing at about 6,000 feet). (For more about how trees help create soil, check this post.) [...]
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