Rizalante
The Tree of Heaven — Ailanthus altissimo
This tree is everywhere in Pacentro.
In dialect the plant is called rizalante, which means “to clean up,” from the verb rizalare.
The name alone tells you a lot about how Pacentrani feel about the plant. It is invasive and grows in every crevice possible.
I think this chosen name is hilarious because the common name for the plant is ‘Tree of Heaven’ or ‘Tree of Paradise.’
I’ve spent most of my time telling stories about plants that smell divine. Today I am flipping the script and writing about a tree has a smell far from my idea of paradise or heaven.
If you touch the leaves or the wood of the plant it releases a particularly foul smell that I would liken to bad breath. Although unpleasant this is a quick way to identify the plant.
I have been closely observing ailanto since early March. It has been pleasureable to watch how the plant shape shifts in such a quick manner. This is where the common name, tree of heaven, comes from — the tree grows at unprecedented rates as if it were reaching up to the heavens as fast as possible.
The tree has become a sign of abandoned land. Rural spaces forgotten, lost to emigration.
On a walk, I told a friend that each ailanto tree in Pacentro feels like the physical memory of each person that left. A village at its peak with 4,000 people and now barely reaching 1,000.
Who stays?
I am most interested in that question.
The parts of Pacentro that were once cultivated are now full of the young trees. These saplings double their height from spring to summer. The tree itself is quite intelligent because it is allopathic in nature. This means that it releases chemicals into the soil to establish its growth and outcompete other plants nearby. Another allopathic plant is the walnut tree. Walnuts release jugalone to keep their canopy free of competition.
The tree of heaven was introduced to Italy as a response to the disease caused by the parasite, pebrine. Remember I mentioned Pacentro was well known for its sericulture? I also noted the rapid decline of sericulture after World War II. The parasite decimated silk production and caused a chain reaction.
The Eri silkmoth (Samia cynthia) has a relationship with its host plant, Ailanthus altissimo, that can also be used to produce silk. The Eri silk moth was quickly introduced from China to Italy along with the ailanto trees in an attempt to save sericulture.
You may also remember that I mentioned the decline of sericulture was not only due to disease but also the increase of synthetic fibers. Undercut by industrialization, sericulture using the Eri silkworms and Tree of Heaven never took off in Italy.
We are now being enveloped by a very intelligent tree. If you are reading this piece from a perch in Italy, you might look around and start to notice how prolific the tree is.
Once you know how to identify it, you will see it everywhere.
So yes, a lot of people are upset about this introduced species and maybe now you can appreciate why Pacentrani do not even bother to call the plant by its common name.
But I have a counter offer to this problem and so do many Abruzzese beekeepers.
The Tree of Heaven although introduced has become a very important nectar source for bees just as the summer begins to burn up any remaining flowers. In fact, bees make my favorite honey with the ailanto flowers— it tastes of juicy mango.
The flowers are hard to see but they bloom in June. As climate change continues to wreak havoc on any semblance of seasonality we used to follow, most beekeepers are so thankful for the crop of ailanto flowers that nourish their bees. If the trees were not so prolific, to be frank, I am not sure what the bees would have collected the past two summers.
What was once introduced almost a century ago to save a struggling sericulture is now unintentionally saving a struggling apiculture.
I cannot help but love all the pink details of the ailanto tree. The bark, the seeds, the stems. Everything that emerges first greets the world with a hue of pink. The great color pallet is thanks to antioxidants, specifically anthocyanins. Then as the new growth matures the pink fades into chlorophyll green. Ailanto is almost always pink because it is on a fast track to touch the sky.
Slowing down on my daily walk, I have the privilege of watching the same plants change daily. I alluded to ailanto back in the late days of winter because I found it fascinating how the tree already seemed to know how it was going to fill out.
“It is like the branches already have what they want - the tree already knows what it will become. You can see that this space created by new growth will fill in with leaves and flowers. There is a security that the tree will develop into exactly what it needs to be without much effort. She just needs to enjoy the sunlight, exist as her true self and share her gifts with others in her ecosystem.”
Maybe I relate to ailanto so much because I too am an “introduced species” in Pacentro. Even though I am not born and raised here I am like ailanto offering an unexpected nectar to bees.
I started teaching yoga in the cantina because a friend asked. It has been incredible seeing how many people show up to spend an hour breathing together. I am contemplating keeping these weekly yoga classes alive even past the summer so if you are in Pacentro and want to join, please stop by.
Mountain Camp: BoccadiValle x Setteuarciate
Silvia Bianchi of BoccadiValle and I invite you to join us for a week in Abruzzo during our Mountain Camp running from June 5 - 11th, 2026.
We will spend three days hosted by Silvia in BoccadiValle and then move to Pacentro to spend three days in the setteuarciate studio. During Mountain Camp in Pacentro, we will trace the ecological threads of silk, mulberries and pollinators. Feel free to share this offering with anyone that might be interested. Spots are limited.
Read more about the programming here and to reserve your spot please email setteuarciate@gmail.com.
🥰