Bad-ford Pear

The other day, I went to a student presentation. One student presented a nice early design idea, and had me convinced that she was on the promising track of design. Then she started discussing the planting scheme. “This area,” she indicated, “would be a row of evergreen trees, to block the view from the road.” Okay fine. Roads aren’t always something you have to block, but fine. “This area,” she indicated a multicolored patchwork, “is to be a xeriscape garden.” It didn’t look like a xeriscape garden to me, but a cottage garden, but remembering that I was criticized myself for designing a scheme that looked “like a pretty English garden,” I held my tongue. Then it happened. She said, proudly smiling, “And THIS, would be an allee of Bradford Pears.” I wanted to scream. I wanted to rip my hair out. Or hers. But she was trying so hard, and I felt for her. I did. But this was the second presentation of the day that mentioned this tree, like it was some holy godsend. I allowed my tongue a bit of freedom. “Excuse me, but why did you choose the Bradford Pear?” I asked in my most non-judgmental tone I could manage. “Because it’s just so pretty,” was the smiling response. I hoped the shock didn’t register on my face. I bit my tongue. No, I gnawed and chewed on my tongue until it was a bloody mess. Figuratively speaking.

What I wanted to say was this.
“First of all, if you are presenting an early plan, it’s great to use nonspecific terms such as “evergreen trees.” It tells us that you are thinking in a schematic sense. If you are speaking in a general sense, but then suddenly introduce a plant as specific as “Bradford Pear” it means that you have a damn good reason for doing so, and I expect that you have a better reason than “it’s pretty.”
Second of all, you probably know that the Bradford Pear is problematic as a choice. Not only is it a tree of eastern Asia, meaning that it is more adapted to the east coast of the United States and is a high water requiring tree, but it has a propensity to drop full limbs or even split in two once the tree is of a size where it contributes significantly to the landscape, about 30 feet tall. This leaves large holes in a tree that is usually chosen for its symmetrical round canopy, and can be dangerous to those under the tree (and that better not be an allee that people walk on. Because of this, you had better have an even better reason for choosing this tree.

Third of all, in specifying something this specific this early on in the design process, it tells us that you don’t know of any other deciduous flowering tree of that size other than the commonly used Bradford Pear, and don’t want to consider investigating other trees. That this tree is known for its lollipop shape, suggests that you haven’t moved beyond the childhood drawing of a tree and don’t understand the various forms of trees.”

I’m glad I held my tongue, for this would be too harsh to say in a review. If I were the student, I wouldn’t have appreciated it. But I am left wondering why people are so fixated on Bradford Pears. If a pear is insisted upon, why not choose the better ‘Aristocrat’ or ‘Chanticleer’ pears? Is ‘Bradford Pear’ now a euphemism for any medium-sized flowering tree? Don’t people know other trees than the ‘Bradford Pear?’

I didn’t know what a Bradford Pear was until I moved to Philadelphia. Sure it’s a nice looking tree (yawn) and standing under them in fool bloom is like a miniature snowstorm. The pleasing green leaves of summer turn a nice maroon in the fall. But in California, where I grew up, the pears were the evergreen pear, Pyrus kawakamii (which has its own problems). The premiere flowering deciduous tree of spring was either the ‘Kwanzan’ flowering cherry (whose child-like pompon candy pink flowers still delight me in a silly way) or the ‘Blireina’ flowering plum (Prunus x blireina) with fragrant (musty to my nose) profuse double pink blossoms and bronzy leaves. The evergreen tree of late winter was of course citrus, and farther south, the premiere tree of spring was jacaranda and its clouds of blue-purple blossoms on leafless branches.
So why do so many students seem to know (and love) only the ‘Bradford’ pear when there are so many other trees? And why specifically, the ‘Bradford’ pear rather than just “pear?” Why not the many forms of flowering plum, such as the overplanted and awkwardly limbed purple leafed flowering plum like Prunus cerisifera ‘Thundercloud’ which has a catchier name than ‘Bradford’ and flowers at the same time? What about the multitudes of crabapples, which have a much more interesting branching structure (for better winter form), beautiful flowers, lovely fall color, and even colorful fruit, such as ‘Red Jade’ or ‘Jewelberry’ (I must admit to having a friend whose only knowledge of flowering trees was the crabapple ‘Hopa’)? Flowering cherries have clouds of beautiful flowers, fragrant in some varieties, and a variety of interesting forms. I never understood the rave reviews from the admirers of ‘Hally Jolivette’ but I bet that I could understand it if I saw it in person. But I love the horizontal branching of ‘Shirotae’ the fall blossoms of P. x subhirtella ‘Autumnalis’. I think they are all beautiful, with nice bark and winter form to boot.

Unfortunately it is true that there aren’t any native spring blooming trees that are impressive like a flowering fruit tree. But there are flowering shrubs, such as the dee-lightfully scented Golden Currant, or the sniff-alicious Little-leafed mock orange. And I do love to bury my nose in Cliff Fendlerbush (Fendlera rupicola) or risk the spines of the Mahonias to sniff their glowing yellow flowers.

But while I’m on my soapbox, why do people continue to plant the Eastern redbud (Cercis canadensis) when there is the better adapted version C. c. texensis which performs better here, with even more striking flower color in much more profusion? There is also the western redbud. Ah, these things I may never understand. While the Bradford Pear is blooming now, I can almost understand it. But then I get bored with the repetition. Come on, people. Show me some imagination.