As any regular reader of this
blog knows, I have a "thing" about plant names. The "thing"
that I want to know is why a certain name was selected for a certain
plant. I always wonder: what is the source, the origin, the whence of
everything. Nothing annoys me more than to encounter an interesting plant, and
then be unable to identify it.
What is it, or rather, who is it?
Who's its name? If I can't find out, I feel left out. But Haruko, my wife,
couldn't care less. She cares more about the shadow that a tree casts, than
about the tree's name; more about the sound of a tree's leaves in the wind;
more about a tree's shakkei
(Japanese, for its relationship to its further landscape), than the tree's
name. I can allow for all of that. But still, I want to know: how did it get
its name? Why? What's the history? What is his
story?
We must acknowledge Carl Linne
(who loved Latin so much that he changed his name to Carolus Linnaeus) for
creating the binomial system for
plants, where every genus is comprised of species, all based upon the
perception of a relationship of similarities. For example, a plum is similar to
a cherry, therefore both belong to the genus Prunus. Cultivar names (cultivated variants) used to be given in
Latin, but now it's more often a name used as a marketing ploy, to provide
something catchy and memorable. So we have genera, like Hosta, with the most
goofy of names, like 'X-rated', 'Teeny-weeny Bikini', 'Pandora's Box' and 'Blue
Mouse Ears'.
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Cornus x 'Dorothy' |
I'm on record as disapproving of
the use of people's names for cultivars, and yet I have done so myself. Dorothy, a wonderful ninety-year-old
gardening woman from Vancouver, Washington had a spontaneous dogwood hybrid
(between Cornus florida and Cornus nuttallii) in her yard. The tree was lovely
in flower, and so was Dorothy, so I propagated it – to her delight – and named
it for her. I even thought about dating her, in spite of our age difference,
but then I had just met my current wife, and Haruko's flesh and smile proved
the stronger attraction. Dorothy has passed away now, but her dogwood remains,
and therefore so does she.

Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Laura Aurora'
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Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Laura Aurora' |
I have a sketchy record about
naming cultivars, as I have used English names, Japanese names, and sometimes
multi-language names, which is nomenclaturally illegal. I was taken to task by
a European dendrological expert for naming a dwarf, variegated "Weeping
Alaskan Cedar," Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Laura Aurora', that I
shouldn't use "Laura," an English name, he supposed, and combine it
with the Latin "Aurora." I thought the criticism was entirely
unfounded. The name Laura originated
in Latin Europe, and was derived from the "Bay Laurel" plant, or Laurus nobilis, which in Greco-Roman
times was used as a symbol of victory, honor or fame. The name Aurora originates from the Latin word
for "dawn." So "Laura Aurora" is hoyle, dammit, with a nice
ring to it besides. With its yellow variegated foliage, the cultivar is bright
and cheerful, the same as my daughter Laura.

Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Sparkling Arrow'

Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Green Arrow'
I named another cultivar of
"Weeping Alaskan Cedar," Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Sparkling
Arrow'. Good, two English words. Its origin was a variegated shoot on a 'Green
Arrow', and fortunately it makes a wonderful, narrow weeping tree as well, only
with some extra color. 'Green Arrow' was discovered and named (brilliantly, I
think) by the late Gordon Bentham, and the original tree was on Canadian
federal forestry land. Bentham asked the Feds for permission to harvest a few
scions, but was denied. He had paid a lifetime of Canadian taxes, was a
life-long citizen, and harbored the notion that the tree was his anyway,
and no stinking smug government employee should interfere with him. Bentham
obviously harvested the scionwood, and he told me about it shortly before his
death in the early 1980's. I visited the old bankrupt Canadian nursery (Den
Allen) and discovered the trees in one-gallon pots. A Danish intern was the
only employee in the weed patch, and I asked if I could buy the trees. I think
because of his nervousness about his next paycheck, he agreed, and I returned
to the States with a dozen three-year-old starts, one of which is in the photo
above, and which could be the largest 'Green Arrow' in the world, outside of
the original. If the intern had not sold me the plants, maybe the
original grafts would have been tossed, for the expired nursery, on prime real
estate, is perhaps a shopping mall now.

Acer palmatum 'Geisha Gone Wild'
I named an excellent new maple,
Acer palmatum 'Geisha Gone Wild', because the original mutation on an Acer
palmatum 'Geisha' had indeed "gone wild." I suppose the crabby
European dendrologist would have a problem with that name too: with
"Geisha," a Japanese word, followed by two English words.
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Acer palmatum 'Midori no teiboku' |
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Acer palmatum 'Midori no teiboku' |
The late Dr. Corbin of Portland,
Oregon was a dear friend and an avid maple collector. He grew a laceleaf with
green foliage and a low, dense habit; the mother tree was Acer palmatum
'Viridis'. I thought the seedling had ornamental merit, so I propagated it and temporarily
named it 'V. Corbin'. A number of customers liked the plant also, and many left
my nursery with that code-name. It even made it into the Vertrees-Gregory book,
Japanese Maples, third edition. That was too bad, for earlier I gave it
an "official" name, 'Midori no teiboku'. In the fourth edition Gregory
made the correct update, but it helped me to realize that I should never sell
or give away any plant without a final, lasting name. Also, it is ok – and
often beneficial – to name a plant early, even if it is largely untried and
unproven, without a decade or more of in-house observation. The marketplace
will then determine the worthiness of your named plant. By the way 'Midori no
teiboku' is a lousy name too. I had a couple of Japanese interns at the time,
and I asked them how would you say "green, and low and spreading" in
Japanese. "Ooo, ahh," they conferred for fifteen minutes, and just as
I was about to tell them to forget it, by consensus they came up with 'Midori
no teiboku'. A few years later, my Japanese wife said that technically
the name was sound, but that nobody would say it that way. But, too
late.
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Sequoia sempervirens |
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Sequoiadendron giganteum |
Enough about cultivar names,
let's discuss the given names of genera and species. The first person to
successfully argue that a certain plant is unlike anything else, gets to choose
both the genus and the species name. Or, if one (Buchholz) argues that two
species should not be in the same genus, such as Sequoia sempervirens and
Sequoiadendron giganteum, his name will follow the new botanic name in
reference books.
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Toxicodendron diversilobum |
I'll begin with our native,
"Pacific Poison Oak," Toxicodendron diversilobum, since it grows on
my property, down next to the Tualatin River. The genus refers to a "toxic
tree," and certainly it is. One should identify and respect it early on in
life, or else you'll pay, as I did twice in my youth. Diversilobum refers to the three leaves which point in different
directions. The plant itself is somewhat attractive with its glossy foliage,
and it's the first deciduous plant to turn dark red, long before everything
else does, often the end of August.
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Acer palmatum |
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Acer palmatum |

Cercis canadensis 'Appalachia'
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Cercis siliquastrum |
Acer, not the computer company, but the genus of maples, is derived
from the Latin word ācer,
meaning sharp, as the lobes are often pointed, and should properly be
pronounced as ahker. Acer circinatum is so named due to its round
leaves, which is Neo-Latin from Linnaeus, and that derived from Greek kerkis,
or "Redbud," probably Cercis siliquastrum, the "Judas
Tree," the tree that Judas supposedly hanged himself from.
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Acer japonicum |

Acer nipponicum
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Acer tataricum |

Acer tataricum
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Acer tataricum ssp. ginnala 'Little Elf' |
Acer
japonicum denotes a tree coming from Japan, and so does Acer nipponicum, while
Acer tataricum refers to a maple that comes from the land of the Tartars, the Great Steppe which reaches from the Ural
Mountains to the Pacific Ocean. This species name was coined by Linnaeus in
1753. The subspecies ginnala refers
to its vernacular name, coming from the Amur region in central China. We even
introduced a dwarf form, 'Little Elf', which arose as a seedling, and grows to
only 2' tall by 2' wide in ten years.
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Cathaya argyrophylla |

Cathaya argyrophylla

Cathaya argyrophylla
Cathaya
is a monotypic genus from China. It was named to honor Cathay, the old name for the "Celestial Empire." The name
was used by Marco Polo, and was a corruption of the Tartar name for north China
– Khitai, or the land of the Khitans. The species name, argyrophylla, translates as
"silvery leaves," as the needles are glossy green above, with showy
silvery undersides. A form, nanchuanensis,
can be found near Kunming, Yunnan, China, or so I now read, but I wasn't aware
of that when I was in the city in the 1980's. Heck, I had never heard of the
genus Cathaya in the 1980's.
Cryptomeria japonica

Cryptomeria japonica
Cryptomeria
japonica, from Japan of course, is referred to as "sugi," and commonly called the "Japanese Cedar." The
origin of Cryptomeria is modern Latin crypto,
from Greek kryptos, meaning hidden;
and meros, a "part." All
because the seeds are hidden by scales. David Don, a Scottish botanist, was
involved in naming Cryptomeria, and D. Don is often used after the botanical
name. Don was a professor of botany at Kings College in London, and also a
librarian of the Linnean Society of London from 1822 until his death in 1841.
He was in the right place at the right time to put his stamp after many great
conifers, such as the "Coast Redwood," Taxodium sempervirens, now
Sequoia sempervirens; the "Santa Lucia Fir," Pinus bracteata, now
Abies bracteata; and the "Grand Fir," Pinus grandis, now Abies grandis.
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A Pleione garden |
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Pleione 'Ridgeway' |
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Pleione 'Versailles' |
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Pleione 'Alishan' |
David
Don also named the genus Pleione, a group of hardy (for me) ground orchids that
I grow as a hobby. In Greek mythology, Pleione was an Oceanid nymph, from
southern Greece, and was the protectress of sailing. I would have loved to have
met her, or I still would love to meet her.
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Bletilla striata 'Alba' |
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Bletilla striata 'Alba' |
Similarly,
we have the genus Bletilla, another terrestrial orchid from eastern Asia. The
species striata, is from the Latin
word striatus, meaning
"striped," in reference to the striped floral parts. I grow Bletilla
striata 'Alba', a delightful little treat, as shown above. The name Bletilla is
after one Louis Blet, a botanist and apothecary (today a pharmacist).

Bletilla ochracea
The
"Chinese Butterfly," Bletilla ochracea, from western Africa and south
Asia, is used by "healers" to cure "vampire disease," and God
help them for that. It treats bacterial infections and prevents malaria, and is
also used to treat anthrax infection. So, there you have the details, or do
you? The species name refers to its Latin word meaning, "ochraceous,"
or ochre-colored, which is any of various natural earths which contain ferric oxide,
silica or itilumia, which are used as red or yellow pigments.
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Pinus ponderosa |
Pinus ponderosa
When
you ponder, you think about or weigh
an idea or a situation. That has its origin in the Old French ponderer, from Latin ponderare to weigh, from pondus, weight. Pinus ponderosa, or the
huge "weighty pine," was considered by David Douglas to be the
largest, most ponderous, of all the new-world pines.
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Pinus jeffreyi |
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Pinus jeffreyi at Yosemite |
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Pinus jeffreyi at Yosemite |

Pinus jeffreyi
Close
in appearance to Pinus ponderosa is Pinus jeffreyi, named in honor of
botanist/collector John Jeffrey. The range of Pinus jeffreyi begins in southern
Oregon, and extends down the eastern length of California, mostly found at
higher elevations in the Sierras, as opposed to the more lowland range of
ponderosa. Needles are in fascicles of three, and are long and gray-green in
color, but have the quality to shimmer in sunlight. Ponderosa emits very little
odor, but jeffreyi's resin can smell like vanilla, lemon or pineapple, and once
in a tree book I read that it smelled like butterscotch. I've never been able
to detect butterscotch, but I have used the smell test to determine the species
numerous times in the Sierra.
Pinus
ponderosa can be used to distill turpentine, but jeffreyi contains exceptional
purity of n-heptane, and can explode
when ignited. The distiller must know exactly which species he is using.
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Pinus jeffreyi 'Joppi' |
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Pinus jeffreyi 'Joppi' |
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Pinus jeffreyi 'Joppi' |
We
grow one cultivar of Pinus jeffreyi, 'Joppi', and it is a dwarf form which
originated as a seedling in Vergeldt's Nursery in the Netherlands, and named
for his son. Site it carefully, however, as it can eventually grow quite large.
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Pinus jeffreyi 'Gold' |
We
also collected one plant of Pinus jeffreyi 'Gold' which colored brilliantly in
winter, but unfortunately lost it in transplanting. The photo of 'Gold' above
was taken in October, and was a non-event at the time, as you can see.
John
Jeffrey was a Scottish botanist who worked as a gardener in Edinburgh's Royal
Botanic Garden, a wonderful plant collection I have visited three times.
Jeffrey was sent to America's west coast to carry on the work of David Douglas
(1799-1834). He was tough, as he walked from Hudson's Bay all 1200 miles to
reach the Columbia River at the age of 24. He explored for four years in
Oregon, Washington and California, sending plant material back to Scotland. But
in 1854 he disappeared and was never heard from again, presumed dead at age 28.
Whenever I'm in California, I have a fantasy that I would stumble upon his
remains, maybe pulling specimens and field notes out of his bag. David Douglas
was also a tough Scotsman, who regularly walked twenty miles a day, and he
perished at age 35.
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Tsuga x jeffreyi |
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Tsuga heterophylla (?) 'Iron Springs' |
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Tsuga heterophylla |
One
final plant is Tsuga x jeffreyi, a natural hybrid between Tsuga mertensiana and
Tsuga heterophylla, and a stand has been located in Washington state, east of
the Cascades. It looks more mertensiana than heterophylla to me, and was once
considered just a variation of mertensiana. The photo above of x jeffreyi was
taken at the Gimborn Arboretum in The Netherlands. A cultivar of Tsuga
heterophylla, supposedly, is 'Iron Springs', but I wonder if it is perhaps the
hybrid. I laugh when knuckleheads list 'Iron Springs' as a "dwarf,"
as my 28-year-old specimen is already over twenty feet tall.
So,
there's just a sample of my origin
obsession, my derivement compulsion.
One can obviously get carried away and squander a lot of time...and it's noon
now and I'm hungry. But, let's see: what is the origin of the word
"lunch?"...from Spanish (1812) short for luncheon, a light meal in the middle of the day. For breakfast I
had an omelette, from French for a "small pan," although one time an
omelette world record was set using 160,000 eggs in Yokohama, Japan. For
dinner, from Old French disner.....
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Buchholz preaching plant names |