Villainous beauties of summer
How fragrant mimosas really stink
Summer is upon us, and the mimosa trees are blooming throughout Tennessee, their sweet fragrance perfuming the valleys and their pink pompom blooms lighting up the shorelines of our lakes and rivers.
Those blooms coincide with the beginning of summer, so they trigger childhood memories in nostalgic adults who remember playing outside in that magical time when school was out and vacation promised weeks of school-less adventures ahead.
Mimosas, aka Persian silk trees, are celebrated for their exotic looks that appear both tropical and prehistoric — long, fernlike fronds dangling from elegant, curving limbs that sport those showy, albeit dainty, blooms. Mimosas may grow among other types of trees clustered along roadways and in the wild, yet they always stand out.
But mimosas (Albizia
julibrissin) are also troublemakers. They’re an invasive nonnative species, nature’s opportunists that spread in the blink of an eye. They’re like an unwelcome visitor who comes to your place for a stay, then starts bringing in family members until you’re crowded out of your own home.
The trees — native in Asia from Iran to Japan — were introduced to America as an ornamental in the 1700s. They’re heat-tolerant, cold-hardy, drought-resistant and adaptable to almost any kind of soil, and over the years their spread has marched across the South like Union Gen. William Sherman, so much so that they’ve been classified as weeds that displace native species in Florida, Georgia and Tennessee.
Mimosas can grow up and over the canopies of native vegetation, sometimes blanketing the undergrowth in harmful darkness while the pervasive mimosa roots rob nutrients from the root systems of native vegetation. Meanwhile, mimosa seedpods are durable and easily transported by animals, through wind and across bodies of water, and the seeds can survive up to five years of dormancy and are often the first to sprout in disturbed areas, such as those that endure wildfires.
What’s more, those frilly mimosa flowers, so easily airborne, can create a sticky and unsightly mess wherever they land, be it on outdoor furniture or vehicle windshields.
So when many botanists see Tennessee’s pink-dotted landscapes this time of year, they only see red. And some garden experts might suggest just two tools in caring for mimosa trees: axes and chainsaws.
Nevertheless, others toast the trees — perhaps with a mimosa cocktail of champagne and orange juice — for their beauty, their fragrance and the nostalgia they foster. And they happily incorporate them into the landscapes of their yards … despite the dirty looks from their neighbors.