Leaving our house on a spring morning, I brush past the lacy blossoms of the Saskatoon bush that frames the entrance to our front door. I say bush; some would say tree. While its limbs branch up from the ground, shrub-like, the Saskatoon stands ten feet tall. Bush or tree, the Saskatoon has lived here for as long as I can remember. Another Saskatoon oversees our back deck. Saskatoons line the path to our vegetable garden and Saskatoons circle our barn.
No surprise that Saskatoons flourish here, on our farmland, among the pruned and watered and weeded, but our land butts up against a wilderness of parched foothills, uninhabited. Saskatoons thrive there too. For much of the year, in the hills, the grey-brown stems and small leaves of Saskatoons blend with the muted tones of bunchgrass and antelope brush. But in April, when the Saskatoons flower, their creamy white blossoms stipple the slopes, and you realize how many there are.
The Saskatoon, notoriously flexible, ever adaptable, is considered a pioneer plant, or early successional, a plant that does well in places where native land has been disturbed or burned. Abandoned farms. Old fields. A Saskatoon grows fast and tolerates full sun. It takes hold, setting the stage for trees and shrubs that need shade. A Saskatoon, you could say, exemplifies coexistence. And to reproduce, besides dispersing seeds, Saskatoons send up suckers from their roots. Voila! More Saskatoons.
Saskatoon berries, as they ripen, change from green to pink to purple and are a bit like blueberries, with a suggestion of almond, although less well known. Unless, of course, you live in Saskatoon, or in many other parts of Western Canada, where Saskatoon berry pie is emblematic of summer and a signature dish.
The main consumers of Saskatoon berries in my backyard are wild animals. Half a tall tree’s worth of berries would be a light lunch for a black bear, which would strip the stems clean. Coyotes enjoy Saskatoons, too. Mule deer graze on the stems and berries from the lower branches, while warblers, waxwings, and finches pick away at the berries higher up. I once watched a yellow-bellied marmot (normally a ground dweller, at home in in rock piles) climb a berry-laden Saskatoon, as though delirious.
Saskatoons, like apples and quinces, belong to the Rosaceae, or rose, family of plants, which is not to imply that sharing a landscape with wildlife is always rosy. Tree-climbing marmots can also climb flowerpots. Bears steal our grapes and peaches. Pack rats patrol our buildings, probing for openings to tunnel under or slip through. Badgers dig trenches around our house. Rattlesnakes, woodpeckers, coyotes, raccoons, rabbits, skunks. We try our best to get along.
The Saskatoon may be as natural in a landscape of cactus and stunted pines as it is in our yard or garden, but it reminds us, nonetheless, that if we were to turn our backs on this place, even for a minute, the wilderness would move in.
—
Art by Lara Schaberg
