[klyrs]

Yeah, honey locusts are pretty wicked; their thorns have thorns. I first met them on a trip to Utah, where they commonly occur in urban settings. They aren't native to Utah, so I imagine some brilliant city planner must have really hated the idea of children climbing trees. Which doesn't really explain the delicious mulberry trees of a similar age that I encountered.

[pvaldes]

Any decent landscaper knows about a special group of plants that have the so called architectural trait. Those aren't necessarily colorful, nice or covered in big flowers. They stand among other as a living sculpture.

Strongly geometrical plants are useful to integrate the rigid shapes found in man-made garden objects. We can culture a snow white Onopordum thistle near to a light-grey granite pavement, and it creates a subtle reverberating effect that is very desirable, both in color and in geometry. The horizontal lines on the pavement are balanced by the strong vertical lines of the thistle creating a structure that people often find pleasant, even if they don't know why. If well done, it just feels right.

Honey locust are cultured because they are hard and tolerate neglect, but they are not unique trees in this sense. What made them stand among other are its beautiful uniquely-shaped architectural spines.

And they are beautiful indeed. Locust trees are winter actors. The combination of clusters of black spines covered on ice, under a winter morning light can bright a long winter season when there is not much more to see. Connoisseurs appreciate it as a certified way to introduce drama and contrast in a garden that otherwise would feel bland, dull and uninspiring.

On the other hand finding this trees on riverbeds don't whisper to me "navajo settlement" necessarily. It speaks: "floodings and vegetative multiplication by roots".