The Brief Bloom of Black Locust

Some years, the black locust trees here never bloom at all.

Or at least not enough to notice. Not enough to scent the roadsides with that sweet, almost honeyed fragrance that drifts through the mountains when the trees are heavy with flowers.

But this year they bloomed.

The black locust (Robinia pseudoacacia) is native to Appalachia and grows quickly here along hillsides, pasture edges, and old roads. Farmers often say locust makes the best fence posts because the wood resists rot far longer than most native species. Around these mountains, you still see split rail fences anchored by old locust posts that have weathered decades of rain and snow.

When the trees flower, though, it’s the blooms that capture me.

The black locust belongs to the pea family, and once you look closely at the flowers, the resemblance becomes obvious — soft white blossoms shaped like oversized pea blooms, hanging in fragrant clusters from the branches.

The flowers are edible when gathered fresh, and their flavor is delicate and green and faintly sweet.

I went first to gather branch lettuce (Micranthes micranthidifolia), one of my favorite Appalachian spring greens, to make the base for a wild salad. Then I headed farther up the mountain toward a stand of younger locust trees whose lower branches I could reach.

The blossoms come away easily once washed. You simply strip the flowers from the central stem.

It’s important not to include the leaves, bark, or seeds of black locust in your food, as those parts of the tree are toxic to both humans and animals. But the fresh flowers themselves are a traditional edible throughout many regions.

For this salad, I added only the branch lettuce, the locust blooms, and a handful of tiny bright tomatoes.

Simple enough to let the flowers remain the center of it all.

Years ago, I wrote about gathering black locust blossoms in a poem called Now Gathered, which later appeared in my second poetry collection, Wolf Laundry.

Now Gathered

What is rolling toward us
in great coils, unspooling
cascades over you and me and the cats
walking together down the dappled drive

I have spoken my desires into a cup
and poured it into the offering pool:
Look what has come!
To hold it you must give up planning and worry, even wisdom
release a thousand years ago and tomorrow
in the name of all love
which today is splendor arriving with every step

This is the sanctuary of now
this quiet road, these cows and crows
and locust trees, heavy with creamy blooms
heady with now-ness, replete with gift

I am subsumed by at once
we are full of this moment:
I reach up for right away
and the flowers flood down into my basket,
leaving my hands sticky with nectar

Looking back from the locust tree to the shadows
where you are keeping the cats from the road
your smile is a bolt of light
your presence a secret meadow
I want to rush in, again
plunge in and drink the deep
green cave of you

And I do, still now
still in the sanctuary
which sings and claps and rolls with us
reverberating with the thunder of delight
back up the dappled drive, the mountain
with cats running zig-zag ahead
so much resonant, irreproachable now

We return to our soft house
folded of brown velvet, stitched with silver
to share a meal, a cup
drifted with sweet locust blooms
then lay ourselves down side by side
for an afternoon nap
under the satisfied gaze of today