Fruiting Pear

Most of the pear trees I encounter in New York are Bradford Pears. And most of you know how I feel about the dreaded Bradford Pear. And even then, I've had to complain once or twice more. But I was actually surprised and even delighted to see this species of pear, Pyrus communis or fruiting pear, growing on East 5th Street.



I would love to know why a fruiting tree is growing here. Who planted it, and why? I was also surprised that it was even in fruit. Some fruiting trees, like cherries, cannot self-pollinate and I falsely assumed this was the case with Pyrus communis, but a quick google search attested that this plant can bear fruit individually. (Note: the need for a pollinator in orchard trees is not the same as a plant being monoecious or dioecious. Cherries, for example, do have male and female flowers on the same specimen, as opposed to hollies, which have male plants and female plants. Cherries just can't produce viable fruit without crossing with another cherry.)



The ability of the pear to self-pollinate is one of the reasons this plant makes a great orchard tree for the dilettante farmer. The plant is not nearly as high-maintenance as an apple, peach or plum. Fruiting pears thrive without much attention and don't get the blights, rusts and mildews that may attack their other relatives in the Rosaceae family.

And finally, below, a clue:


But who, or what, is Reine Valoir? A google search came up empty on anything specific to this tree or block. Reine is 'Queen' in French of course, and valoir is a verb that means 'to be worth.' So perhaps, this in fond memory of a Worthy Queen... Elizabeth? Victoria? Or maybe someone who worked at the nearby Lucky Cheng's?

More reasons to eschew Bradford pear

I know I may have discussed this more than enough but I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that Bradford pears are a scourge of our modern landscapes.

I get it - they are cheap and grow quickly. But the cheapness accounts for the excessive ubiquitousness of this plant, and, at least in this case, the fast growing quality means that the wood lacks structural strength and is thus susceptible to major limb loss. After that, it is not long before the whole tree begins to rot out and die off. In the meantime, I think we can all agree that trees like this,


are an eyesore. The weak wood also accounts for the tree's poor ability to withstand snow and wind loading, which can likely result in the tree ultimately looking like the specimen above.

This plant is so common that people with allergies suffer most when the tree is in bloom. And although Bradford pear is primarily used as an ornamental plant, it is increasingly seen as an invasive species, growing wild on roadsides and in wooded areas near the suburbs.

Don't use Bradford pears. For reals.

An endnote: I knew that I had used the term "dreaded Bradford pear" in a post at one point or another. But I couldn't remember which post it was, so I googled the three words, in quotes, to track down the blog entry. I was pleasantly surprised to know that I am hardly unique in using the word 'dreaded' in associate with 'Bradford pear.' In fact, it appears that 114 websites utilize the term "dreaded Bradford pear" -- it's good to know I am not alone in my opinions!

Daylength & Fall Color

I am a little bit fascinated by the circadian rhythms of plants, so I can't help but share a photo of these dreaded Bradford pears growing in southern New Jersey.

Check it out:



So, on one side you have a row of trees that are still fairly green. On the other side of the street, the trees are at their fall color peak. If you think about it, it makes perfect sense: The trees that are further along in their procession to dormancy (the red ones) are on the south side of the street. They sit just north of the adjacent townhome, which reduces the amount of daylight they receive. The trees on the left have slightly more day-length and thus won't turn color at the same time as their neighbors.

This was such a great illustration of how day-length influences fall color that I had to use it, even if it was the lousy pear tree.

Confused Cherrylaurels

Here's a few shots of Prunus laurocerasus, or cherrylaurel, in Union Square Park.


As you can see, these plants, which typically bloom in the spring, have a fair amount of flowers on it. This phenomena in not unheard-of among spring-blooming plants -- I see
it most often with saucer magnolia (Magnolia x soulangiana). The dreaded Bradford pear (Pyrus calleryana 'Bradford') does this, too.



Plants have, like people and animals, their own circadian rhythms, triggered day-length. I mentioned this before, when discussing redbud (Cercis canadensis).

Sometimes, plants that flower in the spring will mistakenly bloom in the fall. Which, when you think about it, makes perfect sense: The daylengths in October are similar to those in April.

A few good reasons not to plant Bradford Pears

My students are no strangers to my... rants about Pyrus calleryana 'Bradford,' or Bradford Pears.

Sadly, I was not a plant geek when my parents hired a landscape designer for their house in Virginia. Otherwise, I would have protested against the use of this tree.

Alas, 20 years later this tree has succumbed like so many others Bradfords before it.

Bradfords, as you may know, are notoriously weak-wooded. They grow very quickly and that, coupled with the acute branching habit, is a recipe for the damage you can see in these photos. You have probably seen Bradfords and noted their perfect lollipop shape. After it loses a limb like this, it doesn't recover. Instead it looks like a lemon missing a wedge and will never quite fill in. Due to their low cost, they are also so over-used that the pollen is causing more allergies each spring when they bloom.

Finally, the wood rots very quickly after this kind of damage and it will be a fast ride to oblivion for this specimen.


It's always fun to say 'I told you so,' right? I'm glad no damage was done to their house, otherwise I may have held back a bit. But please: don't plant Bradford Pears!