Of Terroir and Time

We had to replant the cherry tree.  It, alone, fell victim to the whiplashing vagaries of a premature spring that seduced early blossoms and buds that were almost cruelly punished by late-season frosts.  All the others, however, survived it -- the apples, the plums, the apricots and pears.  Only this one out of our tiny little grove of nine.  We lived a month in patient hope -- or simple denial -- believing that the black crepe annotations on the branches signaled only the demise of blossoms nipped in their prime, not the actual tree.  When the brittleness of the stems made the diagnosis plain, we had no choice but to pronounce a benediction. 

Apart from the obvious weather anomalies, we aren't really sure what happened.  As I say, all the other trees -- each a peer of the cherry -- are thriving.  Is the cherry somehow intrinsically more fragile -- more susceptible to the cold -- or simply less suited to this location?  There are, after all, horticultural limits.  As much as I miss the crepe myrtles and bluebonnets of my Texas roots, or the towering cypress trees of Tuscany, they simply aren't suited for life in Iowa.  I know this in part by looking around and seeing nothing of the sort.  I know this, more definitively, by reading the maps published by the USDA differentiating the various plant hardiness zones showing Iowa to be Zone 5 and Texas Zone 8, aligning them with seed guides clarifying what plants thrive in what zones. 

As much as I miss those heat-loving blossoms, I also honor this element of "terroir" -- the French agricultural term translated "taste of place" -- which calls attention to the fact that places have particular character.  No place is every place.  There are soil variables, sun/shade variables, and certainly climatic variables.  Certain things thrive on hillsides, while others crave rich valley river beds.  Some seeds require bitter cold to crack and germinate; the same cold that would eviscerate others that flourish in warmer environs.  Honoring the uniqueness of terroir forces inhabitants to discern the blessing and opportunity of their particular location instead of simply trying to replicate the beauties of somewhere else. 

Perhaps the cherry tree variety we initially selected was only marginally suited for zone 5.  I cannot say, since I no longer have the tag.  Its replacement, I will note, has been specifically developed for zones 3-7 -- roots and branches, in other words, that like to shiver. 

Of course there are no guarantees.  The summer will deliver its own horticultural stresses we'll have to meet and overcome.  And then there is always next winter.  And high winds.  And nibbling deer.  And...

...and all the vicissitudes of growth.  The most we can do is plant what is appropriate, water when dry, prune when needed, care...

...and wait and see.