Pretty in Prunus

Within the course of a week, the nursery has exploded with proof of life.  Both in the gardens and the production houses, sudden, flamboyant conglomerations of springtime arrivals offer visual resting places for winter-worn eyes; spaces of spiritual respite adorned in serene pinks, yellows, purples, whites and, occasionally, varying shades of blue. Amongst these early performers, and perhaps most notable even to the most plantblind individuals, are the cherry and magnolia blossoms that dot forest peripheries with their bright whites and soft, bubblegum pinks.

Around this time last year, magnolias got a whole write-up of their own, highlighting their blacklight capabilities visible only to insect eyes. Now on the cusp of a brand-new growing season, the remnants of nostalgia winking in the rearview like an old friend during an uncertain and chaotic period of human existence, we crave glimmers of the past more than ever. Despite our increasingly warm zones and the demand for resilient structures and specimens in both our manufactured and naturalized environments, there’s something to be said about the horticultural classics that have maintained a stronghold in the industry throughout the advent of ecological restoration and the return to endemic species.
 
Prunus is a genus that actually encompasses quite a variety of stone fruit-producing species, most notably cherries and plums, but also apricots, peaches, and almonds. Cultivated for both ornamental and culinary purposes, Prunus species have undergone significant genetic alterations since essentially the dawn of human history: your store-bought cherries and plums have come quite a long way from their ancestral roots, and that lovely weeping cherry tree in your backyard took some finagling to get it to weep juuuuust right.
 
While most of our ornamental cherries come from various parts of Asia, North America is home to a small but eclectic group of Prunus species that have become excellent candidates for resiliency planting. Our native cherries, like Prunus virginiana (chokecherry) and Prunus pumila (sand cherry) are landscape baddies capable of withstanding less-than-ideal site conditions while also providing invaluable ecosystem benefits to both birds and small mammals that often glean the clusters of small but edible fruits before we even get a chance to notice them. 
 
Don’t let the non-native selections fool you, though - they’re capable of producing fruits that are just as revered by hungry birds as our endemic North American species.
Once renting in a house in South Jersey that bequeathed me a shady, woodland backyard complete with a large, pesky Norway maple and two weeping cherries (the same backyard that introduced me to the tufted titmouse who was insistent upon taking my hairs for its nest), I found myself watching the cherry trees evolve throughout the growing season during COVID when being housebound was unavoidable. Not long after, on a sunny, warm day that had me trapped inside for schoolwork, I happened to look out the window at the closest weeping cherry to find – and there is no exaggeration here – at least 200 cedar waxwings greedily gobbling up every cherry they could find for a solid 30 minutes. Having never seen a cedar waxwing before, let alone 200+ of them all at once, something about that particular cherry tree seemed sacred to me.

Non-native, non-problematic. Just in its lane, thriving.   Maybe there’s something to be said for these ancient trees that we’ve been using in our manicured landscapes for thousands of years, that up until the neo-revolution of native plants have never posed a threat to our ecosystems, but now face a sharp decline in utilization and desirability because of their non-native status. That’s kind of a shame if you think about it.
I’m sure the cedar waxwings would have something to say about it, too.
 
Now might be the best time to cherrypick your trees for your next project… literally and figuratively. Currently in bloom and covered in honeybees, bumblebees, and hoverflies, our Prunus x yedoensis, P. x yedoensis ‘Akebono’, P. ‘Okame’, and P. subhirtella ‘Autumnalis’ are prime candidates for public parks, specimen gardens, formal gardens, or anywhere with moist-to-dry, well-draining soils – that’s right, even urban sites and street tree pits. Largely pest free and disease resistant, ornamental cherries deserve to maintain their centuries-old status as horticultural heroes capable of beautifying just about any goshdarn landscape they find themselves in.