A brief 15 minute sampling of wild crabapples growing at the property where I garden.
Now that apple picking season is upon us I think it's time someone stepped up to the plate and called out the darlings of autumn as the slutty ho-bags (I checked the urban dictionary, and yes, its hyphenated) they truly are... Jk. Kind of.
The genus Malus (to which all apples belong) is notoriously promiscuous and will produce fertile offspring with nearly any other individual, regardless of species. This indiscriminate reproductive attitude lends apples not only an amazing adaptability, but a crazy amount of phenotypic diversity that boggles the mind. My state (MA) has no endemic species (at least as far back as the last ice age anyway). The closest North American native Malus is M. coronaria (Sweet Crabapple) with a range centered in the southern Great Lakes region and only extending as far east as New York. Yet, go to any abandoned field in the northeast and you're bound to find at least a few "wild" apples growing happily amongst the usual palette of successive species (the property where I garden being no exception). After doing a little crabapple recon for about 15 minutes I was able to find 5 trees of drastically different shapes and sizes with the fruit to match; Reds and yellows, shiny and dull, large and small... Keep in mind this was without even trying to find contrasting individuals, simply no 2 were alike.
Various Malus on the property. In addition to fruit and tree habbit, leaf shape and size also showed a huge amount of variability. Some looked exactly like those you'd find on orchard trees (sans lobes and kind of large) and others looking very much like those of Hawthorn (multiple lobes and kind of small).
Crabby bounty.
Our centuries old love affair with apples in the northeast has given rise to what I've affectionately referred to in previous posts as Malus x intermedia, a genetic conglomeration of at least 6 contributioning species (probably more) from around the globe including M. sylvestris, M. hupehensis, M. pumila, M. sargentii, M. ioensis, M. sieboldii, and maybe a bit of M. coronaria as well. While these small trees have the potential to displace other flowering natives like Amelanchier, in their defense they are not particularly aggressive and have quite a bit of ecological/wildlife value. Despite the trees status as a foreign invader, it's a bit mind-blowing to consider the future of this interspecific mess as it continues to grow and evolve in the region. Will it maintain it's diversity of forms and shapes as new genetics are continually added into the gene pool or will certain traits win out as the ?species? competes for real estate in its "new" environment. While these scenarios will be playing out long after I'm gone, its awe-inspiring to consider I might be witnessing the birth of a new, unique species.
With that said, the promiscuity and fertility that characterizes the genus (while superficially appearing to be a good thing) can actually endanger the genetic integrity of existing native populations. While this may be an over simplistic summation, when foreign, perhaps deleterious genes, are continually pumped into a given discrete population it would only make sense that the overall fitness of individuals within the population would be negatively affected. This would ultimately affect the adaptations that allow the trees to cope with location specific environmental stresses that the species has been adapting to for thousands and thousands of years. So if you are in fact lucky enough to live in areas that has native apples, try your hand at preserving what little genetic integrity remains by planting a native Malus of your own. Be aware, however, that our native apples have pretty much no resistance to cedar apple rust, and while they will grow regardless, if you live in an area with eastern red cedar expect the trees to be mostly defoliated by the end of the season. And as one final disclaimer, don't expect the garish colors you are used to seeing at the grocery store. The fruits of our 4 native species pretty much peak at a dull yellowish green when ripe (although M. fusca does take on muted red and burgundy tones). Ok, now that I have thoroughly dampened whatever enthusiasm you might have for growing these natives, here ya go...
Malus angustifolia - Southern Crabapple
Zones (5)6-9
Purchase from: Foggy Mountain Nursery, Hidden Savanna Nursery, Just Fruits and Exotics, Nearly Native Nursery, Mail Order Natives, Vincent Gardens, Woodlanders
Malus coronaria - Sweet Crabapple
Zones 4-8
Purchase from: Alpha Nurseries, Cold Stream Farm, Forest Farm, Nurserymen.com
Malus fusca - Pacific Crabapple
Zones 5-8
Purchase from: Burnt Ridge Nursery, Forest Farm, Las Pilitas Nursery, Lawyer Nursery
Malus ioensis - Prairie Crabapple
Zones 4-8
While this native has lots of cultivars in the trade (mainly double flowered forms that are largely fruitless) the straight species is largely absent and rather difficult to locate.
Purchase from: Alpha Nursery, Sheffield's Seed Company
If you're on the market for something a bit flashier (and don't live in an area where you run the risk of corrupting the integrity of local native species) check out this lists put out by the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.
To summarize, embrace your inner whore and plant an apple. Or just plant an apple. That is all. :)
IMAGE SOURCES: M. angustifolia (flower, fruit), M. coronaria (flower, fruit), M. fusca (flower, fruit), M. ioensis (flower, fruit)
