By the Plant Ladies, Christina Prime and Teri Chace
In the world of plants, as with all living things on this earth, they are given all the means for self-preservation. Living, producing the next generation and not dying a violent and/or earlier-than-expected death, is just as important to a plant as it is to any animal in our world.
To protect themselves or to propagate, plants are given qualities that we either respond to with sighs of blissfulness or cries of ‘ouch’ or ‘yuck,’ A plant may have a beautiful flower but be extremely poisonous or it may be a wonderful, thick, privacy fence but its invasiveness knows no bounds. Sometimes it can be as simple as it is beautiful but it’s a fleeting bloom (I know many of these). This month’s plant covers it all visually and with a good sniff. Delicate blooms, a wonderful wafting scent, but, oh, the thorns. I am talking about the hawthorn. This tree is better admired from a little distance, and at this time of year, it’s not too hard, because you don’t have to be almost upon this tree to appreciate its wonderful characteristics.
My remembrance of this plant is every June I glance outside from my living room window and gaze upon the hawthorn that lines up almost directly behind my flower garden and vegetable garden. It stands like a sentinel to draw us outdoors to enjoy the wonders of the last few weeks of spring, while easily helping to transition us to the summer season.
Now let’s join my fellow Plant Lady as she teaches us some great facts about this standout in our forests. We hope when you get through our article, you will appreciate this tree between the ‘more than two’ thorns.
When you think you know the plant
Here’s a tree lots of people know, even if they aren’t that into landscaping and plants, not a Plant Lady, not a gardener, etc. Because of the thorns. They are really something—will talk a bit more about them in a sec.
A little delving into my plant-books library humbled me. Not because I discovered lots of things I hadn’t known before but because, weirdly, a lot of plant books omit or don’t say much about hawthorns. Botany books and gardening books alike. Why not? We’re about to find out.
Habit and height, hmm
Around here, there are some hawthorns. Typically they are used for thickety property-line hedges, blocking access or shielding the property from the road with thick growth and those daunting thorns (but, more attractive than putting up a regular or even barbed-wire fence for that matter!). Also if you suit up, including wearing heavy-duty gloves, you can manage and shape them—hawthorns don’t object to shearing and pruning. The best time to do this is early spring.
Some of us have a hawthorn tree in our yard, standing solo but not that close to the house. I assumed that whoever planted the one in our yard years ago had moved it back some so that they and visitors wouldn’t get scratched or poked.
One virtue of hawthorns is that they don’t get super-tall, even without cutting back. There are no towering trees. Typically, in time, they get maybe only 15 feet high, not more than 30. Some types are shorter and perhaps more properly considered tall bushes. This is because they were originally “understory trees”…their natural home was under the towering trees of the forest.
A closer look at the branches and twigs reveals another identifying characteristic—the growth is fairly zig-zag. Which just adds to the density or impression of density of the growth. You can better appreciate this quality in the winter months when the leaves are off, of course. One writer actually waxed poetic about hawthorns in winter, commenting:
Throughout the winter, the hawthorn’s leafless boughs and twigs outlined against the sky are as articulated as a skeleton, and our eyes are drawn to them as to the rich detail of a Dürer etching that fills every square inch with meaningful motion.
Reading that just makes me think, not for the first or last time, that some people are more observant and appreciative of nature than I am. Wow.
Leaves and identity confusion
One possibly odd thing about hawthorns is that leaves, while generally medium to dark green and on the small side for a deciduous tree, vary quite a bit in shape. The edges are serrated but the form may be anything from something like a mini maple leaf to a more rounded shape. There’s even one called the “parsley hawthorn” due to its leaves resembling those of good old flat-leaf parsley.
Is all this leafy variation a challenge to identification? Probably not because the thorns will leave no doubt.
As it turns out, there are many different but closely related hawthorns and now that I’ve looked into it, it’s too complicated and fussy to go into much detail! Incidentally, the genus name, Crataegus, is derived from the Greek word for “strength.” That works.
Suffice to say the English hawthorn, Crataegus laevigata, is common and, over there, sometimes called the “May tree” for its bloom time, and use for garlanding maypoles. It is subject to many folk traditions. (“An English friend’s grandmother considered it a curse to bring a branch indoors” due to a belief that it could bring illness or death, said one of my reference books.) The one we probably see around here—I think—is the Washington hawthorn, Crataegus phaenopyrum; it blooms about now, in June. However glossy hawthorn, C. nitida, looks very similar and blooms a touch earlier. Another one you might see is the Canadian or cockspur hawthorn, C. crus-galli, which is best for hedge use. A C. viridis cultivar (cultivated variety) called ‘Winter King’ is very popular as a small ornamental tree; I’ve definitely seen this around, including in a public park in Dartmouth. Last but not least, Nova Scotia forests are home to two native species, rare fleshy hawthorn C. succulenta, and fuzzy-leaved downy hawthorn, C. mollis; I don’t think I’ve ever encountered either of these.
Well. There are even variations, but, as I say, all fairly similar to one another and possibly crossed/hybridized.
One last note about the leaves: some hawthorns have great autumn colour, red to orange-red. Others, not so much. It’s not a sure way to tell one from the other.
Thorny matters
The rather dangerous, irritating thorns are all over the branches, even if the leaves and, when in bloom, flowers obscure them from sight. They tend to be long, too, not at all like the sharp short spines of, say, a barberry hedge. Long, and sometimes slightly curving.
The many thorns of course protect the plant and it is a determined (and suited up) human who undertakes pruning or shearing, as mentioned above. Needless to say, these are not good trees to climb! Of course, their thick presence is probably why hawthorn isn’t the top of the list for small landscape trees, at least in high-traffic areas.
While the thorns may cause humans to keep their distance, this quality actually is a help for wildlife. Songbirds, especially, can safely hide or nest in hawthorn. And deer don’t chew up the branches.
By the way, if you were thinking of buying and planting hawthorns, you can find ones at a nursery that are far less thorny or even almost thornless—you’d have to look around or ask.
About those flowers
The small, usually-white, and sometimes pink or even red (if a garden type), give away hawthorn as a member of the rose family. They’re five-petaled. They look a bit like little apple blossoms. A tree in bloom may be absolutely smothered in them, which at peak in late May or June, is impressive!
Then I encountered this comment:
A more serious objection to hawthorn has to do with the controversial scent of its flowers, which has been called fishy and pestilential, and worse. In England, where the native hawthorn is a sentimental favourite, it is seldom planted near the house, but usually some distance from it, most often to mark the boundaries of a property.
That makes more reasons why hawthorn tends to be used as a property-line plant or, if a solo tree, it’s away from the house, deck/patio, windows, etc. Don’t know why I never figured that out before. Maybe this is a reason hawthorn is less popular than other small landscape trees.
Also I went out and sniffed, and yep, they do not smell like a rose. On the other hand, Christina’s little tree smells nice. I also understand the red-flowered ones have a sweet almond-like fragrance, and that some nurseries offer unscented ones. So I can only figure it varies from plant to plant or from one species to another. And in the end, nice scent is in the nose of the beholder.
Haw haw haw
Where does the “haw” of the common name come from? Would you believe…the clusters of berries that follow the flowers. Well, evidently the word started as “haga,” which simply means hedge, and evolved over the centuries to “haw” for the small berries themselves. And that, my friends, is how we get haw-thorn. I should also mention that I’ve heard these plants called “may haws,” which must be referring to bloom time and berry production both.
The berries are typically red or orange and can last all winter. Some wildlife feed on them, finding a way to avoid the thorns and not minding the seeds within. In addition to birds, deer, rabbits, squirrels and various rodents all will eat hawthorn berries.
And I have seen hawthorn jelly for sale at a farmer’s market, so somebody must’ve figured that out. I have a friend whose hobby is mixing up interesting drinks and when I mentioned this article topic, he exclaimed, “hawthorn gin is much better than sloe gin,” to which I replied, “Oh? Teach me, show me!” Evidently there’s a Middle Eastern liqueur or digestive—rich in antioxidants—made from whatever species of hawthorn grows in that part of the world, called “zaarour.” Preserves or booze, I would certainly add plenty of sugar to such recipes.