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| Two famous plantsmen |
Not all nurserymen are plantsmen, and not all plantsmen are
nurserymen. In my experience, in fact, the best plantsmen are not
nurserymen. Follow that? The owner of a neighboring nursery, for example, has
never had dirty hands – well, at least from real dirt – and he doesn't know
which conifers are endemic to Oregon, and certainly he will never be able to
hybridize two species etc. He is not a plantsman, never will be, but he was
past-president of the Oregon Association of Nurseries. Am I a plantsman?
I'd like to think so, but I've met many others who are far more knowledgeable
than myself. And calm down, when I say plantsmen I also include women,
and I don't see any need to lump the genders into plants-people.
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| Wollemia nobilis |

Wollemia nobilis


Abies beshanzuensis
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| Acer pentaphyllum |
As a nurseryman/plantsman I have to be careful in my
indulgences. Nursery sales allow me to acquire “plants for the heck of it,”
even though I know going in that there will be no profit coming out the other
end. Gathering plants around oneself is actually a kind of addiction, and we
must be careful about our deportment, that we don't indulge, as in acquiring
trophies to impress others. “Oh wow – look – Buchholz has a 16' tall Wollemi
Pine, Wollemia nobilis, and...OMG, the rare and critically endangered Abies
beshanzuensis...and there are more of them in his nursery than can be found in
the Chinese wild.” I once bragged that I had more plants of Acer
pentaphyllum in my nursery than what could be found growing in China. The point
is that plantsmen can get carried away, way too far. But when we witness other
plantsmen...running amok with their passion, we too have an urge to jump aboard
and collect the most rare, most weird and most beautiful plants in the world.
We then tend to them, unto them, and
receive a parental-guardian charge when they thrive and we can show them off.
Ok, plants please, Buchholz. How about Asarum, the plant
that is commonly referred to as a “ginger,” even though it is botanically far
from the true “ginger,” Zingiber officinale. The Asarums are a delicious group
of groundcovers known as “birthworts,” a large genus in the Aristolochiaceae
family. The common name is due to the flower shape which resembles a birth
canal. The name Aristolochia is derived from ancient Greek aristos
for “best” and locheia for “childbirth” or “childbed.”
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| Chamaecyparis lawsoniana 'Filip's Golden Tears' |
I have acquired Asarum maximum 'Ling Ling', commonly called
the “panda-faced* wild Chinese ginger.” These “wild gingers” are low-growing
woodland perennials known for their glossy heart-shaped leaves and their
panda-like flowers that hide from view beneath the foliage. 'Ling Ling' is an
Ozzie Johnson introduction, from the noted Georgia plantsman who has travelled
the world in search of new plants. Its foliage is faintly variegated, but
variegated nevertheless. Mr. Johnson and I share a Japanese connection – I
won't go into it further – but I, like others, felt an immediate respect and
admiration for this elegant man upon meeting him. And really, that's the best
part about plant collecting, that I can rub shoulders with great plant people.
Recently, for example, an inspiring plant photo came to me from M.G., a
wonderful plant aficionado from South Carolina, for I had sent to her a
Chamaecyparis lawsoniana 'Filip's Golden Tears' grafted, of course, on disease
resistant rootstock. Even if the tree dies tomorrow, at least I gave her some
fun for a year, but hopefully it will outlive both of us.
*Ling Ling was a
male panda, given to Tokyo's Ueno Zoo by the Chinese in 1992, as was intended
as proof of friendship between China and Japan. Ha to that! Despite being a
male, Ling Ling's name meant "darling little girl" in Chinese.
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| Aristolochia durior |
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| Aristolochia gigantea |
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| Meerschaum Pipe |
*An allusion to old meerschaum pipes that were once common
in the Netherlands and northern Germany. In German, meerschaum is “foam of the
sea,” technically a hydrous magnesium silicate. When first extracted it is
soft, but hardens on exposure to solar heat or when dried in a warm room.
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| Daphne burkwoodii 'Brigg's Moonlight' |
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| Daphne burkwoodii 'Brigg's Moonlight' |
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| Daphne burkwoodii 'Brigg's Moonlight' |
Ahem – today I walked past a large group of Daphne
burkwoodii 'Brigg's Moonlight' – all underpriced in their full,
superbly-unmatched glory for only $94 in a ten-gallon pot. With humor I recall
a website selling 'Brigg's Moonlight' with the disclaimer that “it is sterile,
and does not flower, but the variegated leaves are so fantastic that, who
cares?” Rong, rong, rong – today it is magnificently in flower, and the heady
odor will knock your socks off. I have even had our 2 ½ inch pots throw out a
blossom, so I can't imagine this website knucklehead issuing such a statement.
Hopefully he will eventually achieve a specimen in bloom and quickly retract
his “sterile” claim.
Manihot grahamii
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| Manihot esculenta 'Variegata' |
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| Manihot esculenta 'Variegata' |
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| Robert Graham |
I keep a
plant of Manihot grahamii in GH20, having first encountered it at Duke Gardens
a year ago. This “hardy” (USDA zone 7b) tropical is from South America, and is
commonly known as the “Hardy Tapioca.” It is fast-growing enough to be grown as
an annual, reaching about eight feet tall in a year, and in Oregon it will die
to the ground in winter. The “food” Manihot is species esculenta, and Duke Gardens featured a variegated selection of
that. M. esculenta is commonly known as “cassava,” and when dried to a powdery
– or pearly – extract, it is called “tapioca.” The word Manihot is
French, and is derived from the Tupi Indian manioch or mandioca.
The specific name grahamii honors Robert Graham (1786-1845), a Scottish
physician and botanist who became Regius Keeper of the Royal Botanic Garden
Edinburgh.
The Pulsatillas are in flower now. These herbaceous
perennials are native to meadows and prairies of Europe, Asia and North
America. They are commonly called the “Pasque Flower” since Pasque refers to
Easter, their time to bloom. In most languages the word for Easter comes from Hebrew Pesach*,
while it is thought that Eostre was the Anglo-Saxon word for spring
festivals. The specific name vulgaris means “common” from Latin while
the generic name Pulsatilla comes
from Latin for “to sway,” as the flowers sway in the wind. “So what?,” you must
think, for most flowers sway in an April breeze.
*In Italian “Pasqua,” in Spanish “Pascua,” in French
“Paques,” in Scotch “Pask,” in Dutch “Paschen.”
Hemerocallis 'Kwanso'
I was given a plant
of Hemerocallis 'Kwanso' (sometimes spelled Kwanzo) by Roger Gossler last year
after I had admired one in his garden. I'm not really a "day lily"
kind of guy, but 'Kwanso' brought some bright cheer on a cloudy day. Eventually
my plant will produce orange double-flowers, and I'll probably prune them off,
as I'm also not an orange double-flower kind of guy. I could see Roger's plant
had a portion that was solid green, and I asked if 'Kwanso' was prone to revert.
"Yep," Roger replied. In any case I'll find a drab corner in my
garden and plant it this fall. The common name of "day lily" is due
to the fact that a blossom lasts literally just one day, but they are borne in
such great profusion – from early summer to late fall – that the casual
gardener would assume that the flower lasts all year. The word hemerocallis
is derived from Greek hemera for "day" and kallos for
"beauty," thus a beautiful lily that flowers for a day. Most parts of
Hemerocallis are considered edible if properly prepared, and the rhizomes have
been used since ancient times, cooked or roasted like potatoes. Be aware,
however, that the shoots, leaves and stalks should be avoided as they contain
chemicals that are hallucinogenic. Perhaps a few readers have already abandoned
this blog, and they are now out in their gardens harvesting...
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| Pleione 'Ridgeway' |
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| Pleione 'Alishan' |
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| Pleione 'Versailles' |
I have maintained a
Pleione collection for a number of years, but I have never sold one – except
that they are fun to give away. Most of my employees don't know how to behave
around them, as in constantly watering throughout the winter. My wife became
excited with the Pleiones, and one early spring she divided the pseudobulbs.
The method is to screw the bulb about a third of the way into the soil, with the
bulk of bulb above the soil level. Of course at this point there are no roots,
but that didn't stop one (ex)employee from watering them anyway. (I can't
watch everybody all the time!). Furthermore, she didn't water gently
from above, but rather jetted water from sideways, thus dislodging half
the crop. I couldn't believe it when I saw the mess the next day, but it was
clear that the woman had no clue about watering, and was not long in the plant
world for other reasons as well. I've said it before: I have gray hair
now...and it's not from age.


























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