Huisache, Acacia
farnesiana, is one of those plants people either love or hate. Folks who see the world as nothing more
than fields of grass find the little huisache tree an eye sore. They want grass to feed cows and as such
their collective myopia blinds them from the many good things associated with
this legume. Native Americans living
along the Rio Grande and into the desert regions and thick brushlands found
huisache useful for everything from making selfbows and eating utensils to
fabricating their jacales—the high
R-value mud and stick dwellings they lived in.
Huisache was also believed to be a viable food source though evidence on
exactly how the seeds or beans were prepared remains sketchy.
For me huisache has always marked the arrival of
springtime. Strange how we’re in the
middle of winter and yet all around me spring is breaking out. Heads up folks, this may mean we’re in for a
brutal summer. I know huisache is
blooming far in advance of actually seeing the flowers. There is no way to adequately describe the
aroma of huisache blooms other than to say that no commercial perfume maker has
ever produced anything that matches the sweet and delicate fragrance of a huisache
tree heavy with flowers. I’ll be walking
along the trail and a timid redolence—nothing harsh or overpowering—will waft
across the path. I begin searching the
woods looking for the tree, and then as
the trail rounds a bend I’ll see a mass of brilliant yellow. Spring has arrived.
Now the bees are at work.
Master bee keepers, those who specialize in exotic Brushland honeys,
will safeguard groves of huisache because they know the huisache bloom produces
nectar for the gods. Pale yellow, almost
clear, the huisache’s honey is so tantalizing that once you have tasted it you
will never be pleased with the mundane honey bought at the local grocery
store. Indeed, huisache (along with
mesquite) produces honey superior to perhaps any other bloom. Finding it pure is hard and expensive. Interestingly, huisache blooms have been used
as an ingredient in fine perfumes. But
to my mind nothing matches huisache in its natural state. A quiet walk amidst huisaches in bloom is
hypnotic.
Now the birds are mating and the huisache tree will play a
part in the beginning of new life. Soon the
ghost doves (white-tipped doves) and mourning doves will be making their nests
amidst its thorn-ridden branches. As
will other bird species and by May the trees will be dotted with nests. Perhaps another blooming will arrive in mid-summer
if all goes well. I’ll be waiting. One more thing: It's pronounced Wee-Sach-Ay.
