In attachment blossoms fall, in aversion weeds spread. Dogen, Genjo Koan (1233 CE)

Smack in the middle of the back yard is a non-native, very short tree that, when I moved in, looked like a dwarf, would-be weeping willow. Scraggly, neglected, it stood just over five feet high, and its branches hung down to the ground all around. It took up a fair amount of space; of course nothing grew in its shade.

I did recognize it: a weeping cherry—not a naturally grown specimen of one of the beautiful Japanese varieties, but a “frankentree,” which, as Brian Funk of the Brooklyn Botanic Garden has written, “are the flowering cherries on sale at home improvement stores” that “look like mops, or umbrellas, or octopus trees.” They are created when “weeping cherry branches… are grafted onto a straight trunk that was cut off at five feet tall.”  Well yes, exactly. Not only was it ungainly, but: what was the point of its existence, and what good would it do?