Not having a yard to call my own, I like to think of "nature," whatever that may be, as my garden. I tend to call my plants by their names. I think they enjoy their Latin names a little more. It makes them feel all mysterious and sexy to have a name that no one can pronounce.

Imagine my surprise, then, while walking through Schenley Park, I came upon a plant that I could not name. Much like running into an old friend at a party whom you've forgotten for many years, I stared, waiting for the name to come to me.

Striking in its plainness, this stand of trees stood about 20 feet tall. They were growing along the edge of the path where the light would be bright but never direct. The leaves were very large and droopy, like many shade-adapted plants, giving the plant a tropical gestalt.

I turned to "Plants of Pennsylvania," my go-to book in times of identity crises. There, with enough time, patience and nerdiness, I can find the name to pretty much any tree or shrub I might run across.

The verdict was in: Asimina triloba, the pawpaw. Holy cow! I hadn't seen one of those since college, and never in the wild. They're rare in forests on this side of the Appalachians, but you can sometimes catch them in cultivation and sometimes -- the most luscious of surprises -- at a farmers market.

Pawpaws are a weird bunch. Asimina is a member of a plant family that exists solely in the tropics. Except our intrepid pawpaws, of course. They've managed to hike all the way into the frozen north (Canada even).

The flowers are also a weird bunch. They appear sometime in late April-early May and are a thoroughly handsome shade of burgundy. However, like other burgundy or purplish flowers, they have a less handsome pollination mechanism: The color resembles rotting flesh.

The pawpaw's pollinators are carrion flies. From an evolutionary standpoint, this strategy allows pawpaws to beat the rush and get their eggs fertilized early on. Rotting flesh remains warm as it breaks down, so carrion flies are active earlier than conventional pollinators. This is great for the pawpaw because the fruit takes a long, long time to ripen.

Unlike many similarly pollinated plants, pawpaws do not have an "alluring" scent (at least for a carrion fly). But this can lead to scanty fruit set, causing commercial growers to put roadkill throughout their pawpaw orchard. Reduce, reuse, recycle. Even that dead possum. Yummy.

The fruit, on the other hand, in no way resembles rotting flesh. They're a pale green while immature, taking on a yellow hue once ripe. The color change is not a good indication of ripeness, which is oh-so important (more on that later).

More telling is the consistency and aroma of the fruit. In fact, the same tactics used for selecting pineapples and cantaloupe apply to pawpaws. They should give a little when squeezed, and they should have a strong fruity smell. This usually happens after they get nipped by a little frost.

Be certain that the fruit is ripe before you try to eat it. You will know soon enough if you've eaten an unripe fruit; immature fruit has some notable laxative properties.

The fruit, however, makes the pawpaw's foibles worthwhile. I earlier described it as "luscious," having a banana-like custard flavor. Pawpaws can weigh up to 1 pound when mature, making them the largest fruit native to North America. They're also higher in protein than most fruit.

Cultivating pawpaws is surprisingly easy. Fruiting is best in full sunlight, but ultraviolet light can kill young trees. Shading might be necessary early on. You need to take a little care in transplanting, and keep your baby pawpaw well-watered during its first year.

After that, the plants are remarkably easy-going, requiring little additional input and having no pests of any importance. Raccoons find the fruit as irresistible as I do, so some steps may need to be taken.

You can hand-pollinate the flowers. Or you could drop a carcass under the trees. Your call.

In addition to being luscious, pawpaws are of great interest to the pharmaceutical industry. Pawpaw twigs possess potent anticancer agents, which have been shown to decrease tumor size, increase longevity and decrease cancer cell counts in terminal patients. Better yet, there appears to be little side effects under the prescribed regimen. As if that weren't enough, the seeds are sometimes used to treat headlice.

Luscious fruit, sustainable plant, natural laxative, fall color, anticancer properties and an alternative use for last night's raccoon/car encounter. Seriously, you'd be crazy to not have a pawpaw or two in your yard.