Editorial: Pear or pohutukawa?

Pohutukawa or bradford pear? Obvious choice, you'd think, writes Mark Story. Photo / File

Nothing screams "Hawke's Bay" like a bradford pear.

In terms of regional resonance the iconic tree is right up there with Rita Angus, Cape Kidnappers and Coleraine.

With its pyramid shape, densely packed branches and profusion of early spring blossom, the native of Vietnam and China speaks to us as New Zealanders on a level that totara, pohutukawa, kowhai or karamu can only dream of.

If endemic pride is your thing, you simply can't go past an introduced ornamental with inedible fruit.

Additionally, Hastings District Council claimed the species has leaves that turn a different colour in autumn.

Yep, there's sarcasm in these lines because said specimen is council's unconscionable specimen of choice for Havelock North's Napier Rd.

Other parties were "involved" in the selection, but it's primarily council's brief. And it's come up short. Again.

Why does a district that prides itself on local, artisan provenance, opt for an import?

Why weren't natives chosen?

It's a question I've put to council in ink ad nauseam. At best it's a form of cultural cringe, at worst botanical bigotry. What does it have against trees that nature chose for this soil?

Why look elsewhere for beauty when it's on its doorstep?

Remember that Hawke's Bay is bettered only by Canterbury in hectares of indigenous bush cleared since colonisation.

But fear not, council's redressing that, one bradford pear at a time.

Its decision to plant rata on Karamu Rd was a brief, enlightening aberration. The bradford pear bombshell is simply the latest iteration in a litany of botched tree choices for this local body.

Hastings' central city melia trees (which drop hard, slip-hazard poisonous berries) and olives (another messy slip hazard) are two examples.

There's cultural malnourishment going on here; a sensibility should be there, but isn't.

Yesterday I sipped coffee at Bay Espresso and was warmed by a window that framed totara and karo in the sun. It's the way it should be. It looked like home, it felt like home.

The karo and totara framed at Bay Espresso cafe is a taste of home.

Conversely, shoe-horning more exotics in our landscape makes this province feel less and less like home.

Maybe council should surrender its tree planting regime to regional council.

And no, no sarcasm therein.