|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.”
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 His mission in life – at age 81 – is more simple than mine, for “wine, women and song” have been replaced by him for the enjoyment of plants.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.
|Rhododendron x 'Airy Fairy'|
|Rhododendron x 'Airy Fairy'|
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.”
|Rhododendron x 'Ever Red'|
|Rhododendron x 'Ever Red'|
|Rhododendron x 'Wine and Roses'|
|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.
|Carex elata 'Aurea'|
|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.”
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!
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.
|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.
|Acer palmatum 'Kotobuki'|
|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.
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.
|Acer palmatum 'Calico'|
|'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'.
|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.
I don't think I would exchange my garden for Gerald's and he wouldn't exchange his for mine. I will admit though that he appears to have more fun with his riot of colors, even if they sometimes clash. A developer bought the land where he used to grow his Rhododendrons and now Gerald has seven new neighbors, but only one is at all interested in what he grows. Nobody else asks to come over and look around. Just as well for he doesn't want their little brats traipsing through his plants. The developer provided a few boring plants for Grandfather's new neighbors, so every house features a Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Pendula' – or three – and an Acer palmatum 'Sango kaku'. The other few plants died because, “Oh, are you supposed to water them?” Hatch's place sits at the far end of a cul-de-sac at an elevated level, a virtual jewel in the rough.
Below more fun plants from Gerald's garden:
Below more fun plants from Gerald's garden:
|Echibeckia 'Summerina Orange Tuin'|
|Eucomis 'Sparkling Burgundy'|
|Digiplexis 'Illumination Flame'|
|Cercis canadensis 'Appalachia'|
|Dahlia 'Mystic Illusion'|
|Cordyline australis 'Sunrise'|
|"Nice garden Reuben"|