katsura

Dear Boxerwood friends,

Katsura otoko is a man of matchless beauty who lives on the moon. A giant katsura tree grows there too, casting a huge shadow, big enough to cover the whole surface of the moon. Katsura otoko spends his days pruning the tree; as he cuts, the tree’s shadow shrinks, and the moon appears to grow. But the katsura tree always grows back, and its shadow grows with it, and the moon appears to shrink again. Katsura otoko is trapped on the moon for eternity, with the endless task of pruning the ever-growing katsura tree, and the moon always appearing to shrink and grow. Be careful: if you look too long at the beautiful katsura otoko, he will beckon to you with his hand, and at each movement of his hand your lifespan will shrink. Or so goes one legend about the katsura tree, native to China, Japan, and Korea.

Katsura (Cercidiphyllum japonicum) is a tree now listed as endangered in its native range, due to habitat loss, although it is a rather popular landscape tree in many parts of the world. In Asia, katsura grows together with dawn redwood (also planted at Boxerwood), and like dawn redwood, katsura trees once grew in North America and can be found in the fossil record.

The katsura tree’s primary contribution to the garden is aesthetic. Its foliage offers a variety of color throughout the year. The leaves typically emerge reddish-purple. They change to a deep bluish-green as spring progresses, then turn apricot in the fall. Another surprising contribution to the garden is aromatic: katsura trees release a sweet sugar smell in the fall, resembling maple syrup or cotton candy.

Katsura is moderate-to-fast growing, sensitive to dry conditions (requires watering), and best planted in the spring. The renowned horticulturalist Michael Dirr writes of katsura, “One of my favorite trees, overwhelming in overall attractiveness; if I could use only one tree this would be my first tree.” There are two katsura trees at Boxerwood. One is near the parking lot, to the west of the bee hives. The other is near the wetland pond, at the top of the stone steps, and is marked with a sign. And it’s really true: walking past this tree in the fall, I am often surprised by a strong maple-syrupy scent.