Right now I am in love with my flowering quince bush. It is currently covered with white to pale pink flowers that look like apple blossoms and light up the front garden. Occasionally the shrub throws off a bright scarlet bloom just to liven things up and remind me that my plant is the result of complex breeding operations—both human and bee-initiated.
The rest of the year, I have mixed feelings about the quince, and those feelings tend to unmix when I attempt pruning my specimen. Left to its own devices, it is a would-be behemoth that might grow to be seven feet tall and at least five feet wide, so pruning is abundantly necessary. So is a supply of bandaids.
In fact, 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. There is not a flower lover on earth who would not leave the raptures behind quickly as fingers collided with spines that 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.
I coveted flowering quince for years before finally acquiring one a decade ago. I originally ordered a variety that the catalog vendor described as having flaming scarlet petals—close to those of the old-fashioned ‘Boule de Feu’ or ‘Bowl of Fire’, mentioned by garden writer Vita Sackville West back in the mid twentieth century. But mix-ups are bound to happen in the horticultural trade. When the tiny plant arrived, there was nary a bloom of any color in sight. It was duly installed and cosseted for two years before it flowered. When the long-awaited event finally took place, it was too late to get a replacement. Besides, the pinky-white flowers are lovely and when those rebellious red blossoms appear, they stand out like beacons. I think my plant may actually be ‘Toyo Nishiki’, which is reputed to flower in pink and white, with random brighter red flowers.
The mislabeled plant received only a partial pruning this past year, so it is now about six feet high with a five foot spread. Of course I clip off branches for the house, making sure to hunt down and remove all the spines before the branches 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 several fruits last year and the fragrance was intoxicating. I am looking forward to more fruits this year, if the weather and the bees cooperate. The fruits are exceedingly hard and sour, and cannot be eaten out of hand unless you are a ravenous raccoon. Stew them with apples, though, and they make a delicious quince/applesauce.
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 the shrubs 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. With a little extra effort they can be trained to a wall in an espalier. Whatever the situation, 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. Invest in the sturdiest pair of garden gloves that you can find, and prune the wayward branches after flowering.
A century ago, the most popular flowering quinces were single flowered varieties, like my shrub. Now, judging by the catalog listings, people are equally fond of fluffy-flowered doubles, like ‘Red Chief’, apricot-flowered ‘Cameo’, and plants in the Double Take series, including ‘Double Take Orange’ Smaller varieties are also readily available, like the white-flowered ‘Jet Trail’, that grows only one to two feet tall. For flaming red flowers, ‘Texas Scarlet’ fills the bill on plants that are also relatively compact.
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.
Find your flowering quince at good local nurseries. If supplies are lacking, try ForestFarm, 14643 Watergap Rd, Williams, OR 97544; (541) 846-7269; www.forestfarm.com. Print catalog available.