The rose family is filled with plants that combine incredible beauty with dire peril. Roses and raspberries have thorns, but those are nothing compared to the small daggers that bedeck the stems of hawthorns and flowering quinces. There is not a flower lover on earth who, when sighting a flowering quince in full bloom, would not want to march right up and clip a few stems. Those who have never dealt with quince before will leave the raptures behind quickly as fingers collide with spines, which can be three quarters of an inch long and exceedingly sharp. Nature will have her little joke…
Flowering quince—Chaenomeles japonica, Chaenomeles speciosa and hybrids—have been enchanting and lacerating us for a long time. The japonica species was introduced to the United States from Asia in 1784. The somewhat less impressive speciosa species arrived in 1815. The quinces caught on quickly. For some time flowering quince was known as Pyrus japonica, a nod to a closely related Rosaceae family member, the pear tree, whose species name is Pyrus.
I coveted flowering quince for years before finally acquiring one about five years ago. Mine is a white-flowered variety, which is not what I ordered. What I really wanted was something closer to Vita’s old fashioned “Boule de Feu” or “Bowl of Fire,” which has flaming scarlet petals. When the tiny plant arrived, it was duly installed and cosseted for two years before it flowered. By the time that long-awaited event took place, it was too late to get a replacement. Besides, the white flowers are lovely and a few branches rebel and produce red blossoms. They stand out like beacons.
The mislabeled plant is now about five feet high with a four foot spread and is currently covered with scores of blossoms. They remind me a bit of apple blooms, to which they are related. Of course I clip off branches for the house, making sure to clip all the spines before they even pass the threshold. Once impaled, twice shy.
The difference between flowering quince and common quince—Cydonia oblonga—is that common quince is grown primarily for its aromatic pear-like fruit and the flowering variety, which may also fruit, is grown for its flowers. My flowering quince bore two fruits last year and the fragrance was intoxicating. I am looking forward to more fruits this year, if the weather and the bees cooperate. If I harvest more of them, I will stew them with apples, which makes a delicious quince/applesauce.
Twentieth century gardener and garden writer, Vita Sackville-West, co-creator of the great gardens at Sissinghurst in Kent, England, mentioned flowering quince many times in her garden column for the English newspaper the Observer. She recommended using them en masse for flowering hedges. Needless to say, the quinces would do double duty in that situation, barring intruders with a wall of barbed branches.
Quinces can also be grown as specimen plants or incorporated into a mixed annual, perennial and shrub border. They appreciate the same conditions as other members of the rose family—full sun and rich, loamy soil. Like many beautiful things, they tend to grow in an undisciplined manner. Prune them after flowering.
In Vita’s day, the most popular flowering quinces were single flowered varieties, like my shrub. Now, judging by the catalog listings, people want fluffy-flowered doubles. Among the popular cultivars are members of a flowering quince series with the trademarked name Double Take. Within that series are varieties christened ‘Pink Storm,’ ‘Scarlet Storm’ and ‘Orange Storm.’ For lovers of architectural plants, some catalogs carry Chaenomeles contorta, which has pink-tinged white, single or semi-double flowers and branches contorted in a manner similar to Harry Lauder’s walking stick or Corylus avellana ‘Contorta.’ If space is a problem, try the alpine variety Chaenomeles japonica var alpine, which has single orange flowers and grows only one foot high with a two to three foot spread.
You can still get single-flowered varieties, like Chaenomeles ‘Spitfire,’ with stunning red-orange blossoms. ‘Jet Trail’ is a white-flowered cultivar with single petals and ‘Kan toyo’ bears pink blooms.
Beauty is the best reason to invest in flowering quince. Don’t be intimidated by the spines. For centuries gardeners have grown all kinds of spiny things, including barberries, cacti and holly, and managed, using a combination of gloves and caution, to enjoy them without being seriously maimed.
Some local nurseries carry varieties of flowering quince. For good selections go to Klehm’s Song Sparrow Farm and Nursery, 13101 E. Rye Road, Avalon, WI, 53505, (800) 553-3715, www.songsparrow.com. Also try ForestFarm, PO Box 1, Williams Oregon 97544, (541) 846-7269, www.forestfarm.com. Free catalog.