Friday, May 19, 2017

Plant Assignments



I don't suffer assignments gladly. Being told that I need to do something or decide on something instantly can irk me – like a non-listed plant, "is it for sale and how much?" Or, so and so needs a photo of this $50 tree to make sure it meets his client's expectations. Damn, it's winter and raining and the plant in question is jammed into a row with others – if we can find it at all – and a photo won't do you any good anyway. I grumble but then usually oblige.






















Acer shirasawanum 'Mikado'


Likewise, writing plant descriptions for labels, or to fill out our website descriptions can be a tedious task. I must give a brief synopsis that highlights the basics like winter hardiness, whether to plant in sun or shade, what is the autumn leaf color etc. The problem is that I don't always know. Maybe I've only had the plant for a couple of years, so I don't really know how large it will get. I especially cringe when I pronounce the winter hardiness, and I wonder if a new maple like Acer shirasawanum 'Mikado' can actually survive at -20 degrees F, USDA Zone 5 as I say. Furthermore I admit to cheating when I say that it will grow to "10' tall by 5' wide in 10 years," because my tree is already 12' tall in 8 years. I deliberately tone down the size because most gardeners in the various regions of the United States are not as privileged as we are in western Oregon with our delicious soil and plentiful water and our benign climate, and their specimen will never grow as fast as it does in my garden.

Allium beesianum


Anyway, in spite of my aversion to writing plant descriptions, I spent Sunday catching up on new acquisitions, even though many of them might never make it to a sales list. One such would be Allium beesianum. My description gives the common name as "Beesianum Chinese Onion." In clipped label-friendly sentences I write, "A Chinese perennial native to slopes and meadows at altitudes of 9000-13,000'. Green grassy leaves form mounds and are topped with small blue flowers in summer. Prefers sun/partial shade in well-drained soil. 8" tall by 10" wide in 10 years. Hardy to -20 degrees F, USDA Zone 5."


Arthur Bulley

Due to space limitations I cannot elaborate to mention that A. beesianum, from Yunnan and Sichuan – an area where I have generally been – is one of the few true blue-flowered Allium species, that there is only 17 species out of 850 Allium species with the blue coloration. Also, it blooms in late August to September when little else is in flower. The plant was first classified in 1914 by Scottish botanist Sit William Wright Smith (1875-1956)  and was named for the Bees Seed company founded by Arthur Bulley (1861-1942), a rich cotton merchant from Cheshire. Bulley* used his wealth to good purpose, employing the likes of George Forrest and Frank Kingdon-Ward to collect plants from South America, China and Africa for his garden – The Ness Botanic Garden – which still exists upon a conditioned trust to the University of Liverpool. In my library is A Pioneering Plantsman: A.K. Bulley and the Great Plant Hunters by Brenda Mclean, so you can see that when my pretty onion blooms I am reminded of the golden years of plant exploration. I take no plant in my garden for granted; every one of them has a story, and it adds immensely to the pleasure of a plant when you know something of it's history.

*The Bulley family motto was Tenax propositi, or “tenacious of purpose.” Bulley once said, “He who hath two loaves, sell one and buy anemones, for flowers are the food of the soul.”

And by the way, I don't truly know if the A. beesianum is hardy to USDA Zone 5, as I have read, because I also see from another source that it is only hardy to USDA Zone 7, and that difference would spell survival or death of the onion for most of the American gardening public.


























Dryopteris wallichiana


Nathaniel Wallich

Another description that I cranked out was for Dryopteris wallichiana, or "Wallich's Alpine Wood Fern." I explain that it's "a semi-evergreen fern native to the Himalaya, Hawaii and Mexico. Light green fronds contrast with dark brown ribs. Prefers sun/partial shade in well-drained soil. 3' tall by 3' wide in 10 years. Hardy to -20 degrees, USDA Zone 5." As you can see, my description is in the same format as that for Allium beesianum, and I can almost write these in my sleep. How accurate they are is another matter, but certainly they are quite forgettable. I planted the Wallich's fern in the fall years ago but it perished when we experienced an arctic blast of 0 degrees F and 30 mph winds the following winter. After 20 years I have replanted another and at least it survived last winter. As an after thought, after my label description was completed, I pulled Richie Steffen and Sue Olsen's The Plant lover's Guide to Ferns from the shelf – which I should have done originally – and find that they list hardiness to zones 6-8. They're the experts, so go with zones 6-8! But the best part of their fern book is the poetry, at least for me. For Distinctive Features I read, "Warm, butter yellow, arching foliar pinnate – pinnatifid plumes erupt in mid to late spring from an erect rhizome." Wow, warm erupting plumes! Who then, wouldn't want to grow Dryopteris wallichiana?

Roscoea cautleyoides 'Jeffrey Thomas'


If I acquire a new plant from a company such as Far Reaches Nursery in Washington state, often I can plagiarize from their label, and if I just change a few words I can make it seem like my original. They describe Roscoea cautleyoides 'Jeffrey Thomas' as "A selected form from England notable for pale cream flowers which are lighter than typical for the species. We're just over the moon about Roscoeas and this uncommon selection is certainly in the top tier. All the allure of a hardy orchid without the expense. Trouble free pretty much." I don't go "over the moon" like they do, but I did copy their size and hardiness, seeing as how they have grown it longer than I have. We both grow ours in partial shade, so I'm guessing that is what's best for everybody.  That Roscoea is in the Zingiberaceae (ginger) family I already knew, but I thought it worth repeating in my description.


























Campanula latiloba 'Alba'


Another fun plant from Far Reaches is Campanula latiloba 'Alba', a rambunctious bell-flower that I describe as a "A slow spreading perennial with green foliage. In late spring 2'stems of outward-facing pure white flowers rise above the foliage. Prefers sun/partial shade in well-drained soil. Hardy to 0 degrees F, USDA Zone 7." I copy Far Reaches and imply that it is "slow spreading," or as they put it "controllably spreading." We are growing it in our relatively small basketball court, and I can see that every year we should reduce its perimeter by about one third. These "controllably spreading clumps" could easily be potted up for sale, but I'm afraid that I'm unknown for Campanula, and no matter how choice it is, I'm not certain that I would find customers. But if you would like a start for free let me know... or better yet: spend the money and buy one from Far Reaches.

Tricyrtis macrantha ssp. macranthopsis


The botanic name of Tricyrtis macrantha ssp. macranthopsis is a cumbersome epithet, so lets just call it the "Japanese Toad Lily." The photo above doesn't show it but the insides of the funnel-shaped flowers are adorned with brownish-purple dots. The dark green leaves are narrowly lanceolate so they don't get in the way of the blossoms; the tidy fountain blooms in summer, and just so you know the flowers are bisexual. Supposedly it is the mottled coloration of the flowers that gave rise to the common name of "Toad Lily," or maybe since the plant thrives in moist shade, toads were possibly found beneath the leaves. This common name of "lily" is not far-fetched since the genus is indeed a member of the Liliaceae family.

Epimedium grandiflorum var. higoense 'Bandit'






















Epimedium grandiflorum var. higoense 'Bandit'


We have long had Epimediums in the garden, but I've always resisted the urge to propagate and sell them. Good thing because now there is a gardening craze and new cultivars are popping up all the time. Since we are relatively late to the Epimedium party, we'll let others peddle them and we're content to just grow a few in the gardens. We got to the start of 'Bandit' a few years ago and I describe it as a "Deciduous Asian species forming a clump with small green leaves edged in purple. Small creamy-white "bishop's hat" flowers rise above the foliage in May. Very cute, from Japan..." I should be precise and list the full botanic name – Epimedium grandiflorum var. higoense 'Bandit' – and the var. higoense in Japanese refers to Higo* ikariso – the plant name from a location in southern Kyushu, Japan. Grandiflorum is an epithet for "large showy flowers," even though the dwarf 'Bandit's' flowers are too petite for that. Epimedium's name is a mystery, as the genus in the Berberidaceae family is derived from Greek epimedion, from epi + medion, a species of Campanula. Epi is from Greek for "on, at or besides,"  and, as in epicenter it can mean "outer." Does the word Epimedium refer to the fact that the flowers are "outside" and hover above the foliage?


*An ancient denizen of Higo – now known as Kumamoto Prefecture – was known as a stubborn, eccentric person who could never be convinced to change his mind. Fortunately today it means someone with a generous heart that you can take at his word.






















Gladiolus dalenii 'Bolivian Peach'

Oxalis bowiei


Gladiolus dalenii is – according to me – "An upright perennial with long blades of gray-green foliage. Orange and yellow flowers appear in late summer/early fall. Prefers full sun in a well-drained soil. 3' tall by 1' wide in 10 years. Hardy to 0 degrees F, USDA Zone 7." Both of my grandmothers had glads in their garden, so why am I now – 50 years later – bragging about them in my collection? I first acquired G. dalenii from my Grandfather who gave me an extra pot, but even he couldn't remember where his came from. It turned out to be a two-for-one, where Oxalis bowiei was implanted in the same pot. So now one blooms after the other, and both are choice wonderful plants, but I keep my pot inside as neither are reliably hardy in Oregon. G. dalenii ranges from South Africa throughout tropical Africa into western Arabia, and it is a prominent species used in large-flowering hybrids. It is commonly known as Dalen's Gladiolus after Dalen van Geel, or Isidwi Esibomvn in Africa. Gladiolus is named after the Latin word gladius meaning "sword" due to the long and pointed leaves. It is not surprising, then, that gladiator shares the same origin, and furthermore it is said that gladiators wore Gladiolus corms around their necks during battles for protection. No wonder that the Gladiolus flower symbolizes strength and integrity, and also not surprising that the genus is a member of the Iris family. And, for you softies out there, the Gladiolus is the August birth flower, and also the 40th anniversary flower because it symbolizes infatuation and remembrance.

Ypsilandra thibetica


Regular Flora Wonder Blog readers know that I often sing the praises of the Rhododendron Species Botanic Garden in Federal Way, Washington. My visits are a total day's event where nearly eight hours is spent driving the round trip for every two hours in the garden. But there hasn't been a visit yet where I didn't stumble into something new – and it's not always Rhododendrons. A couple of years ago I discovered the ghostly flowers of Ypsilandra thibetica in early spring, and apparently the propagator had great success with them because they were also reasonably priced on the tables in the sales area. I planted mine in the shade of the basketball court and the frothy white flowers rose about 10" above the evergreen perennial, and did so in mid March when little else was in flower. What is surprising is that Ypsilandra is considered a "new" plant for discerning gardeners, yet it was described by the botanist Adrien Rene Franchet in 1888. Franchet was in the right place at the right time in his position as botanist at the Paris Museum National d' Histoire Naturelle, and he described the flora of Japan and China from collections made by French missionaries Armand David, Pierre Delavay, Paul Farges, Jean-Andre Soulie and others.

Rhododendron 'Ever Red'

Rhododendron 'Ever Red'


I first saw the intriguing Rhododendron 'Ever Red' at the Rhododendron Species Garden, and it too was offered on the sale's tables. It appears to be dwarf, slow-growing and somewhat leggy when young, but it's leaves – especially on the new growth – are a rich purple-red. Mine bloomed this spring and I enjoyed the deep red flowers. It originated as a hybrid at the famous Glendoick Nursery in eastern Scotland, owned by plantsmen Peter and Ken Cox. It is probably hardy to 10 degrees F, USDA Zone 8, and I find that it performs best with PM shade.

Rhododendron 'Wine & Roses'


Another new Rhododendron that I acquired from the Species Garden is 'Wine and Roses', apparently patented in Europe but free to propagate here. It has a compact form, growing to about 3-4' in ten years. It flowers freely with trusses above the foliage, and the blossoms are bright pink before fading to pale pink. The most spectacular feature, though, is the "wine" color apparent on the leaf undersides, especially when the wind blows. 'Wine and Roses' is also a Glendoick hybrid.



























Rhododendron nuttallii






















Rhododendron nuttallii


I've collected a couple of other Rhododendron species that I encountered in the conservatory at the Species Garden, R. nuttallii and R. boothii. Neither species is hardy so they are housed in my GH20 hot house where I spend lot of money every winter keeping non-profitable plants happy. I love the purple-red new growth on R. nuttallii, and if you're in the conservatory at the right time you will see its large white flowers with yellow throats that are highly fragrant. The best feature for me – since I am a trunk man – is the cinnamon-brown exfoliating bark, the equal in ornamental value to the "Paperbark maple," Acer griseum.






















Rhododendron boothii


Thomas Nuttall
For the non-hardy R. boothii my description reads, "An upright evergreen shrub with an open form. Fantastic copper-red new growth on big hairy leaves. Small yellow flowers in spring. From the temperate rainforests of the eastern Himalaya. Prefers partial shade in a well-drained soil. 4' tall by 2.5' wide in 10 years. Hardy to 10 degrees F. USDA Zone 8." My one plant from the Species Garden is still in a one-gallon pot, yet it produced an enormous flower bud that teased me for a month. Finally it opened, and as I described before, the flowers were small, disappointingly so. Still, the luscious reddish-brown leaves make it a species worth growing. Steve Hootman, Director of the Species Garden, calls R. boothii "virtually unknown." He continues that it is slow-growing and requires excellent drainage, and that he has only seen it in the wild growing on the sides of maple trees, rooted into the bark. R. boothii was first described by botanist Thomas Nuttall (of R. nuttallii fame) in 1853. We remembered Nuttall as the English botanist who worked in America from 1808 to 1841. Not only was the Pacific coast dogwood (Cornus nuttallii) named for him, but so was Picoides nuttallii, a woodpecker, and Pica nuttallii, a yellow-billed magpie.

Maybe my problem with writing abbreviated label descriptions is that I am naturally long-winded, especially when it comes to plants. Also, I would rather write about plants when I feel like it, not when someone is waiting for a description. Some customers assume that I know everything, and since I sell plants I also owe them a photo or a description. Ultimately the problem is that I sell plants and that compromises all aspects of growing and understanding them, of totally enjoying them.

Friday, May 12, 2017

Color Me Spring



We marched past “coming in like a lion and going out like a lamb” and then later April’s showers indeed brought May flowers. Now, nearly mid May, the nursery and gardens are opulent with colors ; and if the Eskimos really do have twenty words for snow, so do I for red foliage on flowers or leaves, or for green foliage on various deciduous trees. The riot of colors reminds me of Eva, an ex-employee from Honduras who bombastically adorned herself when stepping out on Saturday nights as if a tropical bird was looking to mate.

Magnolia x 'Vulcan'

Magnolia x 'Vulcan'


Let’s start with a tour of the reds. Magnolia x 'Vulcan' has just finished flowering, but there still remains some bloody tepals on the garden soil. This complicated hybrid (M. campbellii ssp. mollicomata ‘Lanarth’ x M. liliiflora ‘Nigra’) is only hardy to 0 degrees F, or USDA Zone 7, and then further one must worry about a hard frost once the buds are set. For us about one out of every five years the flower buds are cold blasted and we can only shrug and wait for the next season. This year was magnificent however with port-wine red blossoms that could almost be called black, but I confess that every year the color can vary, even on the same tree. This situation can lead to “expert” speculations, such as juvenile and adult trees color differently, or that soil types affect the color, or that the color will vary whether the tree is grown in full sun or in partial shade etc. Well, I don’t have a theory except that some springs are just fantastic Magnolia years like we’ve just experienced.

Magnolia x 'Vulcan'


This past Easter Sunday I surmised that there would be no Buchholz event other than Haruko cooking a fantastic dinner. But about mid day she sat down with me and said “Remember, they’re still children – my kids at 11 and 13 – and they’d love to have an Easter egg hunt.” Ok, ok, I’m still father ; let’s do it! We filled plastic eggs with candy, useless rocks, dollar bills, and one had a note to give father a big hug. The eggs were distributed around the outside of the house and I boast to be rather clever about hiding them, and all the better if they are in plain sight, though somewhat unnoticeable. I put a dark red egg inside a low-hanging ‘Vulcan’ blossom, and I chuckled every time my kids walked past it looking ahead for another.

Acer palmatum 'Beni kosode'


Pink-red” is the color description most often used for two little mutant palmatum cultivars, ‘Beni kosode’ and ‘Pinkie’. Neither are easy to propagate and grow and powdery mildew is a constant concern, and these less-than-vigorous cultivars never produce substantial scionwood. I can find very little information about ‘Beni kosode’ except that the Japanese name beni means “red” and kosode refers to a Japanese robe. Literally ko (small) and sode (sleeve) describe a t-shaped robe smaller than the traditional kimono.

Acer palmatum 'Pinkie'


























Acer palmatum 'Pinkie'


Pinkie’ arose as a witch’s broom mutation on a seedling from A.p. ‘Mikawa yatsubusa’. Imagine the progeny derived from sowing seed from ‘Mikawa yatsubusa’ in an open garden setting – seedlings vary from ‘Mikawa’-look-alikes to regular palmatum offspring. One of the seedlings similar to ‘Mikawa’ – with the short internodes and green over-lapping leaves – was set aside for observation with hundreds of others. We annually germinate these seeds from our famous specimen growing along the main road into the nursery, and about 25% will result in somewhat “Mikawa”-like plants. Those are incredible in-and-of themselves but then imagine one that goes completely rogue and produces a bun of congested growth with tiny pink linearlobum leaves completely different from its ‘Mikawa’-like host. I wish J.D. Vertrees was still around to admire and appreciate this bizarre occurrence, but I’ll bet that 90% of the Flora Wonder readership still doesn’t quite get what has happened. I keep my oddity in GH 1 and invite any maple enthusiast to visit and derive his own conclusions. Propagules from mama ‘Pinkie’ are in small pots in GH 14, and I have left a small amount of green rootstock growing above the graft unions to serve as nurse aids because everything about the cultivar spells “wimp.”

Rhododendron x 'Taurus'

Rhododendron x 'Taurus'

Rhododendron x 'Taurus'


I can think of no blossom more “red” than Rhododendron x ‘Taurus’, and the “red” I mean is a pure red, not one with adjectives such as purple-red, pink-red, orange-red etc ; in other words red-red, the type color. ‘Taurus’ was bred by the late Dr. Mossman of Vancouver, Washington using R. strigillosum crossed by R. ‘Jean Marie de Montague’. I’m not sure why he chose the name except that the zodiac sign, symbolized by a bull, refers to people born approximately between April 20th and May 20th, the same time that the Rhododendron blooms. The parents of R. x ‘Taurus’ are of medium vigor, but neither grow to large size ; therefore I find it surprising, though rewarding, that x ‘Taurus’ surpasses them both in leaf and plant size. The monster photographed above with my family and intern Rodrigo was taken at the Jenkins Estate located west of Portland, Oregon in 2016.

Pleione 'Vesuvius'
Pleione 'Riah Shan'



























My employees are engaged with the nursery – and the plants there in – to various degrees. For some this is just a steady job where every day is an ordeal to survive, and a whole lot of energy is not devoted to understanding and appreciating the plants. That would not be the case for office manager Eric Lucas who spends as much time possible outdoors, and in fact he has been responsible for us delving into floristic endeavors that I never would have dreamed of ten or fifteen years ago. Pleiones – the hardy terrestrial orchids – used to be just a hobby, but now we’re actually growing them for sale. Sticking with the theme of red color, some feature red bodies while others are lavender or yellow with red throats. We have dozens of cultivars and I can’t imagine any employees dismissing them as trivial.

The Pleiades cluster

The Pleiades


Today Pleione is a star in the Pleiades star cluster which is in the constellation of Taurus, and in Greek mythology she is the mother of seven daughters known as the Pleiades. The orchids are native to Asia – I have seen them in Yunnan, China – and are in no way associated with bodies of water, yet in mythology Pleione was an Oceanid nymph. One thought is that the name is from Greek ple-o meaning “to sail,” and that the appearance of these stars occurred during the sailing season in antiquity.

Pleione 'Irazu'
Pleione askia 'Cinnabar'


























In any case most of the Pleione hybrids are easy to grow perennials hardy to about 10 F or USDA Zone 8. We have had some survive for many years in the garden, but for the most part our collection is in pots. Those in the know bring them into the house in early spring and enjoy them on the windowsill.

Acer palmatum 'Shojo nomura'


One could argue that red is overused in today’s landscapes, and it is true that in a tour of gardens in my modest hometown of Forest Grove, Oregon, the preponderance of red-flowering shrubs and red lace leaf and red upright maples will be quite apparent. No one complains, as the red color adds a regality, a richness to the otherwise ubiquitous green of soggy Oregon’s foliage. Even lowly rental yards feature a red lace leaf along with plastic toys and the feral children who own them. One can go to any box store and buy a red maple cheaply ; they are often potted into dirty half-filled containers where the field-ball’s plastic orange twine chokes the trunk. If watered adequately the first year the tree will survive a dozen years before the twine strangles it to death. I don’t mind seeing red maples everywhere for the colorful species has been good to me, and I have to admit that about a half million of those reds were generated by the sharp grafting knives at Buchholz Nursery in the course of my career.

Acer palmatum 'Usu midori' in June





Acer palmatum 'Usu midori' in April











































Acer palmatum 'Usu midori' in September


As a nurseryman, a plantsman, I never give short shrift to the green color, especially in spring. Even on my way to work I indulge in the myriad shades as they are presented in the low AM atmospheric light. Once I’m at work, it doesn’t take long until I find myself in the greenhouses. I make work lists, like potting up or pruning, and since we’re mostly finished with spring shipping, the majority of the remaining plants will be re-packaged and grown for next year’s sales. A relatively new cultivar is Acer palmatum ‘Usu midori’, a slow-growing upright with yellow- green leaves. When used with Japanese midori (green), usu means “light.” The foliage begins yellow-green but with the onset of summer and strong light the leaves turn almost entirely yellow, and at this time it is important that the plant receives PM shade. An added bonus occurs in late summer/early fall when new growth features light yellow leaves edged in red, along with prominent red veins. I don’t yet have ‘Usu midori’ planted out in the landscape. I’ll find a thoughtful location this fall, and I’ll accept that the tree might struggle for a season or two before establishing itself.

Acer palmatum 'Emerald Lace'

Acer palmatum 'Emerald Lace'























Acer palmatum 'Seiryu'


New growth is light green for two dissectums, Acer palmatums ‘Emerald Lace’ and ‘Seiryu’, but both develop a solid green by early summer. Leaves on the two cultivars are quite similar, both highly dissected and “lacy,” and the only difference is that ‘Emerald Lace’ forms a spreading bush while ‘Seiryu’ grows into an upright tree. It might be fun to stake a main shoot of ‘Emerald Lace’, and then to keep staking it to maybe 10-12’ tall. Would it eventually assume a leader… with drooping side branches?* I don’t know who first introduced ‘Seiryu’ but some (as in Missouri Botanic Garden) suggest that the name means “green dragon” while Mr. Maple suggests it means “blue-green dragons.” I don’t fathom the “dragon” part but it is a fine cultivar. ‘Emerald Lace’, in spite of its finely dissected leaves, is the most vigorous laceleaf I grow. In a container a 5-year-old tree can produce one-year shoots 5 to 6’ long, and in the landscape I have had to remove ‘Emerald Lace’ because I underestimated how quickly it can grow.
*One of the benefits of the Flora Wonder Blog is that you get ideas to try at home. Be sure to report the results.


Carpinus betulus 'Columnaris Nana'



























Acer buergerianum 'Miyasama yatsubusa'


Two dwarf trees outstanding for spring foliage are Carpinus betulus ‘Columnaris Nana’ and Acer buergerianum ‘Miyasama yatsubusa’. Both are fresh light green, but to a large extent their appearance depends upon the play of light upon their leaves. They grow into broad dense pyramids, with the maple probably a little slower growing of the two. If I could only have one I suppose it would be the maple and that would be due to fall color : the hornbeam turns a dull yellow in autumn (in Oregon) while the dwarf “trident” turns to bright yellow, orange, red and purple in autumn. Miyasama yatsubusa is the more rare of the two, and that is probably because it is – at least for me – the more difficult to propagate. The Japanese name miyasama means “prince” and yatsubusa refers to being dwarf. “Columnaris Nana” speaks for itself, while its specific name betulus refers to birch-like characteristics, and indeed Carpinus is a member of the Betulaceae family. The common name “hornbeam” is due to the extremely hard wood of the genus, and was once used in Europe to make yokes for oxen – the beam between the horns.






















Tsuga canadensis 'Little Joe'






















Tsuga heterophylla 'Iron Springs'


























Tsuga heterophylla 'Thorsen'


There are no conifers more delightful than the hemlocks in spring – plants are bejeweled with light green new growth which contrast with older dark green needles. Tsuga canadensis ‘Little Joe’ is a favorite, and the photo above is from a 25-year-old 3’ tree that was given to me by hemlock guru, John Mitsch. It is well placed in the shade of the lath house, but we no longer propagate it because I would be well into my 70’s before a rooted cutting would fill a one-gallon pot. Tsuga heterophylla – the “western hemlock” – ‘Iron Springs’ forms a dense column, and in the literature (Heronswood) it has been called a “dwarf.” My specimen at the Pond House is 35 years old and almost 30’ tall, so dwarf it is not. I wouldn’t be surprised if my specimen is the largest in the world – come forth if you wish to challenge! Much more elegant and refined than the various weeping Canadian hemlocks is Tsuga heterophylla ‘Thorsen’ AKA ‘Thorsen’s Weeping’. This dainty weeper can be staked – I once grew one to 6’ tall – or it can be left to its own devices where it will form a low-growing ground cover.

Adelges tsugae


We don’t grow nearly as many Tsuga as we used to years ago due to the east-coast adelgid problem, an exotic pest that has bedeviled native stands as well as specimens in landscapes. The culprit is Adelges tsugae, native to east Asia, and it is a white wooly critter that feeds by sucking sap from the tree. It is estimated that (as of 2015) 90% of the geographic range of eastern hemlock in North America has been impacted by hemlock wooly adelgid, but fortunately it has never occurred in my nursery.

























Abies pindrow


I’ll conclude with green spring new growth with Abies pindrow, the “West Himalayan Fir,” a species that is sadly not hardy for most of the Flora Wonder Blog readership. My start came from the late Otto Solburger’s collection, and on his North Plains, Oregon Christmas tree farm he amassed an arboretum of conifers that rivaled any in the United States. I never met the man and only knew him for his trees which outlived him. His wife, however, took delight that a young man (me) showed interest in her husband’s trees and she allowed me to have my way with scionwood. The single specimen of Abies pindrow was growing (too) close to a “Norway spruce,” Picea abies, and Solburger’s son – a logger – determined that the spruce was the more handsome of the two so he cut down the pindrow. My propagules from 32 years ago – and I have seven of them in the Flora Wonder Arboretum – are now certainly the largest Abies pindrow in Oregon, if not in the USA. The plush new growth is a wonderful example of green-in-spring, but it can be susceptible to late frosts. Thankfully this year we escaped such disaster.



Most of my springs are past with only a handful left. Hopefully my family and younger friends will enjoy the season as I have for so many years.