By mid-April, breezes spread the petals about in a cloud of pastel confetti. There are always a couple of days when you can walk beneath branches still coated with pink blossoms, while the concrete underfoot is slicked in pink silk to give the magical effect of walking upon a mirror. In summer they provide leafy shade so welcome that the mailman parks beneath them to eat his lunch. The mid-green leaves tint yellow-to-red in autumn, and in winter the branches form a spreading scaffold where robins hang out all plumped up to wait for spring. All this glory comes from just three trees, of a kind we're often advised not to plant.

It is true that ornamental cherry trees can be magnets for disease in our climate. I've never sprayed mine, and by the end of summer the leaves tend to look a little chewed up. We've had to cut out nests of nasty tent caterpillars. But even with minimal care (little supplementary water, occasional light pruning) the cherries bloom heavily every spring and carry on lustily throughout the year. It appears there is confusion among horticulturists, because the April 2002 issue of Horticulture magazine has an entire article heralding 'Hally Jolivette' as the best of all flowering cherries, while its performance here in the Washington Park Arboretum has been rated poor.

Now In Bloom Ribes sanguineum 'White Icicle' is a kind of native red flowering currant with the surprise of snow-white blossoms. An 8- to 10-foot, gangly deciduous shrub with maple-like leaves, it bears drooping clusters of little white flowers for nearly a month. Flowering currants take shade or sun, aren't fussy about soil and are drought-tolerant once established.

What does seem clear is that if you provide ideal conditions, flowering cherries can be far more rewarding than problematic. All kinds require plenty of sunshine, so should be planted in the open. They need fast-draining soil to prevent root rot, and when well-established can tolerate some drought. The problem in our wet spring is the dreaded brown rot, a fungus that causes leaves to blacken. Luckily, a number of cherries are well-adapted to our climate, and several are so lovely they're probably worth a try anyway.

Falling in this latter category is the winter-flowering cherry (Prunus x subhirtella 'Autumnalis'), a tree my mother always planted outside her kitchen window where its out-of-season flowers cheered her up when she washed dishes. It seems such a valiant little tree, blooming in late autumn, continuing to open semi-double, white-tinged-with-pink flowers during warm spells all through the winter, then finally bursting into full bloom when the weather warms.

Another winter stunner is the Chinese birchbark cherry (P. serrula), whose small, white springtime flowers are nearly hidden by narrow, willow-like leaves. With peeling bark the color of deeply burnished mahogany, it stands out like polished statuary in the winter landscape.

Several types of flowering cherries have proved particularly resistant to brown rot and insect problems here in the Northwest:

• The weeping Yoshino cherry (P. x yedoensis 'Shidare Yoshino') is small and graceful in shape, growing only 12 feet high. Its flowers are white-tinged-with-pink; the foliage turns yellow in autumn.

• The sargent cherry (P. sargentii) is a much larger tree, growing to at least 30 feet, with a rounded crown and single pink flowers. Its bark is a rich, dark red, and the fall foliage puts on an especially good show, turning shades of bronze, orange and fiery red. P. sargentii 'Columnaris' has the same attributes, combined with an upright narrow vase shape that makes it well-suited for smaller spaces or streetside planting.

Valerie Easton is manager at The Miller Horticultural Library. Her new book, "Plant Life: Growing a Garden in the Pacific Northwest" (Sasquatch Books, 2002) is an updated selection of her magazine columns. Her e-mail address is vjeaston@aol.com.