Sunday, June 15, 2014
Black Locust Trees
A short time ago, the black locusts were in such contrast to all around them. The grass was so green, The maples were in bright green leaf. The lilacs were blossoming. And there stood the locusts - bare, stark, autumn-like in the heart of spring. It occurs to me that this is on purpose. They let everything else get all the 'wows' of springtime, when every single day brings something new and remarkable. Then, when the daffodils are gone by, and the lilac blossoms are no more, those creamy white flowers appear which to my mind offer the sweetest smell imaginable.
When I have mentioned locust flowers in my letters, some people have commented that they are like the fragrance of wisteria, the plant oft mentioned in literature. Do locusts get mentioned in fiction? Not in any book I've ever read. And in nonfiction, mostly they are written of as weed trees, springing up everywhere. This is so hard for me to understand. They are beautiful trees in leaf, in flower, and even when they are bare. I grew up with them in my yard, and when Tom and I moved out here, I had to plant black locusts, the greatest gift of my June days.