There’s a manly old cedar tree towering over one side of our house -- stately, dignified, no-nonsense. Near it is a non-native Katsura tree, a girlish (and dare I say foxy) young ornamental.
This is the time of year when the stunning Asian beauty (even earlier this summer she wasn’t exactly a demure and proper lady, what with her heart-shaped leaves and all) goes all-out with a show of fashion. She is the first tree for miles around to wear the colors of the coming autumn.
Meanwhile, the cedar seems secure in his working-class steadiness. He is jeans and a plaid shirt, while Katsura is spiky red pumps and a sexy party dress.
