Katsura, Oh, Katsura

The katsura tree’s new leaves.

This katsura (Cercidiphyllum japonicum) is planted for remembrance. I chose it for its fall fragrance of burnt caramel with notes of apricot. In spring, the new baby leaves are maroon. Its naturally layered delicate habit offers a tall wispy cloud of bronze, backlit by the early morning sun. A triple-trunked specimen that is branched to the ground, it is a fabulous feature tree. It grows three feet a year. It has pearly blue grey leaves that hold the rain in crystal droplets.

It’s also known as The Damn Katsura and has its own soaker hose. The idiot thing droops in summer heat and I use it as my indicator plant for overall soil moisture. Katsura loves moisture, especially when young. I refuse to water it unless we truly are without rain for three or more weeks, but I babied it the first five years or so. It makes a respectable rain garden tree if planted in the secondary tier that floods in a downpour, but dries out within hours. Other than water, it’s relatively easy-going. Some years a late frost might nip the foliage, but it bounces back. Last year with epic spring rains, the silly thing was practically doing giddy back flips.

Is it a tree that will last forever? I don’t know. I don’t know what climate change will bring and if it will weather hot, dry droughts without someone to care for it. However, I’m certain it will outlive me and be a graceful pleasure for decades to come.