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Harriette and Reuben "Gerald" Hatch |
My Grandfather “Gerald” Hatch and I
get together about once a week and indulge in capricious escapades
that usually revolve around plants. One day we visit an eclectic
nursery like Gossler's, the next week a trip to the Rhododendron
Species Botanical Garden, and perhaps the third week is just a short
walk on his Burnt Bridge Creek Trail followed by a leisurely stroll
through Gramp's garden. Today I skipped work for the latter, and I
was well-rewarded with his collection of plants, many of which came
from my nursery and a lot of stuff from Xera Plants, an Oregon
company. On the other hand he has old Rhododendrons, as he was once a
“Seller of Rhododendrons for the Discerning Gardener.”
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Old Gerald |
Everything is jammed on Gerald's
limited lot, but he continues to prune the established while
shoe-horning in the new, and has thus kept the garden fresh and
invigorating. His mission in life – at age 81 – is more simple
than mine, for “wine, women and song” have been replaced by him
for the enjoyment of plants. He doesn't worry about clashing colors
or themes of a “proper” landscape because there is simply no
space unfilled. Nevertheless he keeps acquiring new plants and even
has a heel-in area – the bull pen – that contains about 50 plants
with nowhere to put them. Grandfather's place consists of hundreds of
separated individuals as well as the blending of foliage that sprawls
one bush into another.
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Rhododendron x 'Airy Fairy' |
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Rhododendron x 'Airy Fairy' |
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Rhododendron exasperatum |
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Rhododendron exasperatum |
One of Gerald's oldest Rhododendrons is
the horrifically named x 'Airy Fairy', and it caught me by
surprise last month for I had never seen it in bloom before. The
cross (R. lutescens x R. mucranulatum 'Cornell') was achieved
by Francis Maloney and introduced in 1976. Another Rhododendron is
the likable R. exasperatum, a species with tubular/campanulate red
flowers native to NE India, Burma and SE Tibet. Unfortunately it is
only hardy to about 5 degrees F, so Gramps planted his close to his
house for added protection. It got clobbered two years ago when we
reached 10 degrees in early November and it looked rough all last
year. Now it looks great, especially with its purplish-green new
growth. R. exasperatum was not named due to any confusion
about where to place it botanically, but rather was named by Harry
Tagg in 1930 for its rough-ribbed leaves. Exasperate is from
the Latin verb exasperare which is based on asper for
“rough.”
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Rhododendron x 'Ever Red' |
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Rhododendron x 'Ever Red' |
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Rhododendron x 'Wine and Roses' |
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Rhododendron x 'Wine and Roses' |
Still in pots are Gerald's two recent
acquisitions from the Rhododendron Species Garden, R. x 'Ever
Red' (or 'Everred') and the hybrid R. x 'Wine and Roses'. The
former was bred at Glendoick in Scotland and is grown mainly for its
red foliage color, although the dark red flowers in April are nice
too. 'Wine and Roses' is a fun name and it fits the plant perfectly.
The perky leaves face upward revealing deep purple-red undersides and
in April the blossoms are pink. Both form small compact plants and
Gerald will probably leave them in containers.
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Carex elata 'Aurea' |
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Choisya x 'Gold Fingers' |
Grandfather looks down upon his garden
from his second-story bedroom window and is impressed with the
fireworks-like explosion of color from Carex elata 'Aurea', which is
possibly also known as “Bowles' golden sedge.” One must be
careful with golden plants...that you don't use too many, a sin
similar to too many exclamation points in a letter or story!!! Gerald
has too many, but he couldn't care less; and for a person so
Aristotelian* in his approach to life, he nevertheless goes quite
wild with colors in his garden. Another yellow doozy** is Choisya x
'Gold Fingers', and I even bought one for myself at Xera Plants when
I noticed that Grandfather's plant happily thrived in our
record-breaking heat last summer. 'Gold Fingers' is aptly named, as
each leaf consists of five narrow lobes, and it resembles a golden
version of the green-leaved Acer pentaphyllum. Dancing Oaks Nursery
of Oregon describes 'Gold Fingers' as “This is one ebullient***
plant!”
*Aristotle's name means “the best
purpose.” Centuries later the Roman Cicero described his literary
style as “a river of gold.” Sadly only about a third of his
original output has survived.
**Etymologists believe that “doozy”
is an altered form of the word “daisy,” which was used in the
late 1800s as a slang term for someone or something considered the
best.
***Ebullient means “to bubble with
enthusiasm.” Bulla is Latin for “bubble,” hence our English
word “boil.”

Pinus koraiensis 'Morris Blue'
Gerald loves his three Pinus koraiensis
'Morris Blue' which he planted in a triangle. By next year they will
push into each other, a dilemma that I would solve by cutting two
down. He grimaced when I mentioned my solution, and he somehow prays
that they can grow taller without also growing wider. I saw the
original at the Morris Arboretum in Pennsylvania about 20 years ago,
and I remember it being equally wide as tall. I was with plantsman
Greg Williams of Vermont at the time and he later sent me some
scionwood. As the blue seedling was previously not propagated nor
named, I tentatively christened it as 'Morris Blue' just to keep
track of it, and to keep it separate from another P. koraiensis
cultivar, 'Silveray'. As is so often the case, what is at first
“tentative” eventually becomes permanent, and now Buchholz and
other nurseries have raised thousands of them. While 'Morris Blue' is
similar to 'Silveray' when young, the former takes on a fuller
more-broad habit at maturity, and sorry G., I should have given you
'Silveray' instead. 'Silveray' – one word with only one “r” –
was originally distributed by Hesse Nursery of Hanover, Germany.*
*Amusingly (now), in Krussmann's
Manual of Cultivated Conifers – translated
into English in 1985 – the author feels compelled to note that
Hanover is in West Germany. It reminds me of a German intern, Harald,
who worked a year for me in the 1980's. We were discussing world
events when I asked him if there would ever be a united Germany. He
dismissed it as a fantasy that a handful of Germans wished for, but
he didn't believe that it would ever happen. Actually, he was certain
that it would never happen. Holy Helmut Kohl, look what happened!
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Pinus patula |
Pinus patula
Gerald and I visited Mexico in 2000
where we encountered Pinus patula in the mountains of Oaxaca. Or was
it patula?* It's hard to know for certain as there are a lot of
long-leaved pines, but I remember the shimmer of the needles in the
sunlight (shimmer me timbers). My first patulas were raised by seed –
which was inexpensive – but to my horror about 500
germinated. I dumped about 450 of them, but at least I was able to
sell or give away the remaining USDA zone 7 trees. Eventually I had
only one tree left, an absolute beauty, but it snapped at the base in
a strong winter's wind storm. In desperation I grafted a few scions
onto Pinus sylvestris rootstock. They prospered and now one specimen
is at Gerald's place. He loves the pine but laments its vigor, for it
never seems to stop growing, and he began to prune it in earnest so
it would still fit in its too-small space. At my last visit Hatch
finally conceded that the tree was beyond him, but he doesn't have
the willpower to totally edit it from his landscape. It is only ten
years old and I know that in another ten it will probably triple in
size. At least the reddish furrowed trunk becomes more and more
attractive.
*A few years later I purchased The
Pines of Mexico and Central America by Jesse Perry, and
the shimmering pines were probably Pinus patula var.
longepedunculata.
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Pinus culminicola 'Two Mile High' |
Another interesting pine in Hatch's
crowded front-yard plot is Pinus culminicola 'Two Mile High', and I
used the rootstock Pinus strobiformis on which to propagate his
specimen. There is no perfect rootstock for this highest-altitude
pine in the Cembroides group of “nut pines,” and only (for me)
about 3 or 4 out of 10 live to ten years of age, but Gerald's low
flat-growing tree looks good. I attribute its vigor to his lean sandy
soil with sharp drainage, for the north-east Mexican species prospers
natively in “shallow, rocky, gravelly limestone” conditions
according to Perry's account. My original was grown by me from seed
about 30 years ago from a collection at 12,500', and I selected it
for being more silver-blue than its brethren. I fully admit now that
it is not much different than the type – less than my wishful
thinking at first decided. Horticulture is like that for me: one
supposes more in the beginning, but actually knows less
in the end...and my children actually remind me that for all things
it is a fact. Perry advises us that “There can be no doubt that P.
culminicola is indeed a rare and endangered species.” Because of
its isolation on a handful of remote mountain summits it escaped
discovery until 1959. I wanted to impress you with the origin of the
specific name culminicola Andresen and Beaman, but all
that I can suppose is that it culminates at high altitudes and
that cola (or kola) is a “nut”...but, someone
please correct me if I am wrong.
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Pinus thunbergii 'Kotobuki' |
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Acer palmatum 'Kotobuki' |
One more pine in the Hatch patch that
I'll discuss is Pinus thunbergii 'Kotobuki'. The reason is because
his (from me) is twice as large as any that I have, and I wonder why
I didn't keep at least one around of the same age. The second reason
is that Kotobuki Street is just a couple of miles from his Vancouver,
WA home, and I have never seen a Kotobuki Street anywhere else in my
life. Every time we drive past the street I ask Gerald if he
remembers what the Japanese word means, but he never does. I wish
that he would write it down and put in some effort – if for no
other reason than to stop me from asking. For the record it means a
“celebration, rejoicing or happy event.” Maybe the pine's
prominent white candles resemble a pyramidal birthday cake? I suppose
Gerald's tree is about 20 years old and it's developing a lean which
the cultivar is wont to do. We also grow Acer palmatum 'Kotobuki',
one of the most colorful of all maples, although it at times can
revert to just green.
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Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Glauca Pendula' |
The most prominent tree in
Grandfather's front yard is Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Glauca
Pendula', which we should now call Xanthocyparis nootkatensis.
I had various clones of so-called 'Glauca Pendula' at the beginning
of my career until I eventually narrowed it down to just the most
blue. Even then it's not all that blue, but it still makes for a nice
lawn tree. I'm happy that Gerald's tree prospers because I don't have
a single one on my property anymore; and no customer seems to care
when we used to sell three-to-four thousand lining-out grafts per
year. It's funny how tastes change, and I reflect that I would be
bankrupt if I grew today what I did thirty years ago. I note that
'Green Arrow' made it into the cultivar list in the Hillier Manual
of Trees and Shrubs, although no mention of my involvement is
included, and also Hillier doesn't speak of 'Sparkling Arrow' – the
less-likely cultivar to revert than all the other “Aureos.” I
really don't care, but I find it interesting what European
horticulture values...or does not.
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Cytisus battandieri |
Cytisus battandieri is a fun plant that
Gerald put on the hot, west side of his house. I'm not so sure that I
would want one in my garden, but the damn thing smells strongly of
pineapple when in bloom. The “Pineapple Broom” is also known as
Argyrocytisus battandieri and comes from Morocco, and it is known to
be relatively drought tolerant. I like its silver-gray leaves even
when not in bloom...but still it is a broom, a broom that I'll
probably never plant. That's what is great about Grandfather's
garden, that he grows a lot of weird stuff so I don't have to. The
origin of cytisus is from Greek kytisos for a different
shrub, Medicago arborea. Argyro in Greek means “silver,”
while Argiro is a female name which means “of the money” or “of
value.” The Greek martyr Argiri was married to an honest and
religious man, but a Turk fell in love with her and tried to seduce
her. Since her Christian religion was an issue in Turkey she was
tortured and died in prison, but at least she became a martyr of the
Greek Orthodox Church. The specific name honors Jules Aime
Battandier, a French botanist and authority on Algerian plants.
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Acer palmatum 'Calico' |
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'Calico' devouring 'Mikazuki' |
Acer shirasawanum 'Sensu'
Grandfather has one of the best maple
collections in the Northwest and I frequently compliment him on his
outstanding source. He diligently prunes yet they are still pushing
into each other. Acer palmatum 'Calico' seems to double in size every
season, and it won't be long until it devours a nearby Acer palmatum
'Mikazuki'. Gerald obtained a shirasawanum x palmatum seedling
from Jim Baggett, an ag professor from Oregon State University who
dabbled with maples at one time. I was so impressed with its fall
color that I propagated a few, and later it was named 'Sensu'. My
wife and I were out in the garden one evening – B.C. (before
children) – and she was delighted with the movement of the leaves
in the breeze; she likened it to a moving fan, hence 'Sensu'.
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Cornus x 'Dorothy' |
Near Gerald's property lived Dorothy –
I can't remember her last name – a sweet, sharp-minded woman in her
nineties who I would have dated if I was single. She had a wonderful
collection of trees including what appeared to be a hybrid of our
native Cornus nuttallii and Cornus florida. I was fortunate to see it
in full flower and later I was able to harvest scions, much to her
proud delight. It became Cornus x 'Dorothy', and both Gerald
and I have one in our collection. I sell a handful each year, but
there are so many Cornus cultivars that I doubt that 'Dorothy' will
ever become a mainstay. Nevertheless I am reminded of the woman every
spring, so to me she lives on.
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