You Taste Like Sunshine Dust

So, we're all in the new place and the time seemed ripe to begin chronicling the local neighborhood arboriculture. The task of sorting out the elms, oaks, and conifers daunts the hell out of me, so I've started with the easy trees. 

This first specimen, though not a tree, excited me. I hadn't seen any of these in years until I took Cranklebob on a walk down the nature trail behind our apartments. The apartment manager said the trail ran for a mile. By a mile, I think he meant half a mile.

Bulrushes. Cattails. Typha latifolia. Apparently, you can eat any part of this plant, though experts advise cooking and skinning the rhizome. The rest is fine raw. According to the Internets, Cattails grow in every county of every state in the Continental US. Oh, well.

This next one, the Eastern Redbud (Cercis canadensis), also grows in Texas and most of the Eastern US. In the spring, they bloom pink to purple flowers and the leaves turn dark red in the fall. I'm looking forward to seeing that. Right now the branches are covered in seed pods. Not as pretty. Also, both the flowers and seeds are edible.

Several of this next tree grow down our street. At first I thought they were gigantic, mutant Mimosas. Which filled me with loathing. Mimosas are the only trees I hate more than Crape Myrtles. Sure, they're pretty from a distance, but try living under one.

I toyed around with the idea of either Kentucky Coffee Tree or Tree of Heaven, both common in Illinois, according to Ms. Kershaw. However, the tree currently has neither flowers nor fruits (which rules out Mutant Mimosa and Tree of Heaven) so I only have the leaves to use for identification. They're pinnately compound, by the way, which means each leaf is divided into small distinct leaflets, giving the tree an almost impressionistic quality from a distance. The leaves look too small for a Coffee Tree, so now I'm going with Thornless Honey Locust (Gleditsia triacanthos inermis). We'll know for sure in the fall when the fruit develops.

The Honey Locust is popular as an ornamental tree in this area, it tolerates poor soil and urban conditions, and it's a fast growing, hardy tree. The extracts help with arthritis and maybe cancer. The Native Americans used the pulp to make beer.

It's true, you can find the Honey Locust in Texas as well. So on to some Illinois only trees. Aine called this one the Salad Fingers Tree before we looked into it because it reminded her of the protagonist of the popular web cartoon.

See?

This tree, the Catalpa (Catalpa speciosa), has heart-shaped leaves that look sort of like caladiums (only dark green), incredible white flowers (well, only in the spring), and long bean pod fruits. Originally, arborists named this tree after the Catawba Indian tribe. A botantist in the 1800s named Scopoli had a little too much Honey Locust Beer one night and spelled the name incorrectly on some important document. Ever since, we've called the tree Catalpa instead of Catawba.

Also, the wood works well for guitarmakers.

And this is a Crabapple. Two types of Crabapples grow in this area: Sweet Crabapple (Malus coronaria) and Siberian Crabapple (Malus baccata). The ones growing on our street look more like the Siberian Crabapples in Ms. Kershaw's book.

Interesting Fact: Crabapples are the same Genus as grocery store apples (Malus domestica) and those, along with all other pomaceous trees, are in the same family as the Rose.

Interesting Subfact: Schnucks, our poorly named local grocery chain, the HEB of Central Illinois, does indeed stock their shelves with my favorite pome, the tart yet oh-so-sweet Jazz Apple (Malus satchmos). Life here just might be bearable after all...