George Forrest in Yunnan, China

I frequently sing the praises of the Rhododendron Species Botanic Garden in Washington state, and one of the benefits of membership is receiving their annual Rhododendron Species publication. Various authors contribute and the submissions are well-written and interesting, with subjects ranging from Botanizing in the Wallowa Mountains by Will Clausen, From Bhutan to Vietnam: Rhododendron Introductions in the Second Golden Age of Plant Exploration (From 1980 to the Present) by Garden director Steve Hootman, Rhododendrons for a Changing Climate by Martin Wilkie and others. In the 2021 edition there is also a rehash of Notes on the Plants of North West Yunnan by the great plant explorer George Forrest (1873-1932).

Steve Hootman

George Forrest

The latter reveals that Scotsman GF was certainly in the right place at the right time. I fantasize that I could loom in the shadows of a late-evening Chinese campfire where Hootman and Forrest – the former still present, but the latter long gone – discuss the flora of Yunnan, especially since I have been there one time myself. The two plant hunters would share common ground about Rhododendrons of course, with Hootman pointing out the current plant classifications and the modern names of some of the country's locations, as he does in brackets in Forrest's article. The “Tali range” is now [Cang Shan] and “Rhododendron bullatum” is now [R. edgeworthia] as examples. Perhaps Hootman would grow weary as Forrest brags about collecting “fully eighty species” of Primula in just two seasons. He accomplished a collecting feat of 31,000 plant specimens by himself and his well-organized team of locals, and Forrest had learned enough Chinese and local dialects to pull it off.

Letter from Forrest to Rae Selling Berry

Forrest didn't author books like E.H. Wilson, Frank Kingdon-Ward, Reginald Farrer and others, but he left a written record of his accomplishments with letters* and articles written for the Gardeners Chronicle, and he would also lecture in the space between his seven plant expeditions. I think Forrest would have sold tons of books as I find his writing to be concise and lively, but concerning the Primulas he states: “Any attempt at more than a mere superficial description of the beauty of the scene must necessarily fail. Even the photographs [and they are very good], characteristic as they may be, lacking the charm of color, come far short of the reality.”

Rae Selling Berry

*Plantswoman Rae Selling Berry (1881-1976) from Portland, Oregon obtained seed from plant explorers such as George Forrest, Francis Ludlow, George Sherriff and Joseph Rock for her famous garden.

Dichroa febrifuga

Forrest's article discusses the plants of NW Yunnan, not just the Rhododendrons, and that's a commonality with the Species Garden itself – because even if there were no Rhododendrons at all in the garden it would still be a world-class botanic destination. But anyway, let's take a look at some of the flora that Forrest encountered. Dichroa febrifuga, in the Hydrangeaceae family, is probably not hardy for me, as the species comes from “E Himalaya to C China and Taiwan south to the Malay peninsula,” according to The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2019). It differs from Hydrangea in that it produces dark blue fruits instead of the dry capsules of the Hydrangea flower. The specific epithet febrifuga is due to its medicinal use as an antipyretic, an agent that reduces fever (such as aspirin does) and it is commonly called “Chinese quinine” and is one of the 50 fundamental herbs in Chinese medicine. The word is Latin febris for “fever” and fugare meaning “to expel.” The genus name Dichroa is from Greek dis meaning “twice” and chroa meaning “color.” I've never grown this woody myself and I can't remember where I encountered it, but I'd like to find one to grow as a pot plant – no, not that kind! – in a winter-protective greenhouse.

Tsuga dumosa

Forrest encountered a few conifers in the mountains, and three which I have grown are Abies delavayi, Tsuga yunnanensis and Picea yunnanensis [P. likiangensis] but all to a limited extent. Tsuga y. – the “Chinese hemlock” – is now classified as Tsuga dumosa, but I still have a few in the Flora Farm Upper Gardens with the T. yunnanensis label. The Chinese species is no more attractive (ornamentally) than our T. heterophylla from western North America, nor more so than the “Eastern hemlock,” Tsuga canadensis, but I have little doubt that all three of these species would be willing to hybridize, and could somebody please explain if such a combo has ever been attempted. I am only going by the characteristics that they look alike to the layman's eye. There was much interest 20-25 years ago in T. yunnanensis as perhaps a species that was resistant to America's East Coast plague of the non-native “hemlock wooly adelgid,” Adelges tsugae, which was devastating the T. canadensis population; nurseries and arboreta were requesting our lining-out stock, but since that interest has waned I assume the wretched insects also will feast on T. dumosa. Hillier describes T. dumosa as a “tender species...but very subject to injury by spring frosts,” so maybe that's why interest fell. I have a couple of 20 year-old specimens in my Upper Gardens which have performed well, however, and we have experienced our share of spring frosts and cold winters.

Abies delavayi var. delavayi

Abies delavayi var. delavayi

Pere Delavay

Abies delavayi var. nukiangensis

Abies delavayi Franchet honors Pere Jean Marie Delavay, a French missionary, explorer and botanist who was stationed in Yunnan a half century before Forrest. Delavay, while on a break back in France, met fellow missionary Pere Armand David who also collected in China, and David encouraged Delavay to continue collecting and send the specimens to the Paris Museum of Natural History. He did so with great energy and over 200,000 herbarium samples obviously swamped the chief botanist, Adrien Rene Franchet. I grow A. delavayi var. delavayi and also var. nukiangensis from the Nukiang River area, and both are produced by grafting onto A. balsamea var. phanerolepis (the Canaan fir). They don't really thrive in my Conifer Field, however, and even after 20 years in the ground, I have walked out to the field on a Sunday morning to find that one has suddenly died. Last Monday we set an all-time heat record of 116 F (46.7 C), and I'm nervous to discover if any other mountain species have perished.

Picea likiangensis var. likiangensis

I'm not sure why Forrest referred to the native spruce as Picea yunnanensis when Franchet is credited with naming it P. likiangensis, and the botanist F. had completed his career and life quite earlier (1900). I encountered the species myself in the Yulong Shan (Jade Dragon Mountains) in the 1980s. The younger trees were formal-looking, like perfect Christmas trees, and they possessed glittery bluish needles. It is listed as hardy to USDA zone 6 (-10 F) but sales were weak because my customers couldn't pronounce the name and also they perceived it to be non-hardy. I decided to keep just one tree in the collection; it grew to nearly 20' tall (quickly) and was almost as broad, but unfortunately it blew over in a windstorm. It was not our time to graft so I didn't cut scions, and in the back of my mind I assumed I would get another to replace it. But I never did.

Picea likiangensis var. likiangensis

Picea likiangensis is spectacular for its cones, and I used a photo for my 1988-89 plant catalog. Shortly after mailing them to customers I received a scribbled note (pre-email days) from a know-it-all informing me that the photo was of some variety of Abies, not Picea, and that the identity was obvious because of the erect cones, whereas Picea's are pendant. I wrote back, thanking him for his interest in my company, and allowed him to be “correct” without pointing out that he was not. The event was significant in my life because it was one of the few times that I took the higher road, which as a business owner is probably best. Furthermore, it taught me to be careful about what I think I know, about what I profess, as I am certain that my blogs are likewise riddled with mistakes. In any case, the photo above proves that the cones eventually become pendant.

Pleione bulbocodioides 'Yunnan'

Pleione bulbocodioides 'Yunnan'

Pleione bulbocodioides '[R]'

Speaking of Pere Delavay, Forrest also discovered the ground orchid Pleione Delavayi which has since been renamed P. bulbocodioides. We grow a couple of forms of this species, with one called 'Yunnan' and another with a temporary code name of '[R]'. The former came to us from Rare Plants in the UK, back when shipping the genus was still legal, but that pipeline has sadly been shut down. The '[R]' selection was acquired by noted Pleione hobbyist Dick Cavender of Oregon, and his is my preference.

Pleione x confusa 'Golden Gate'

My favorite Pleione has to be P. forrestii, found in Myanmar and NW Yunnan, but unfortunately we have found it to be touchy and we don't even have one on the place anymore. A near look-alike is P. x confusa, a natural hybrid (P. forrestii x P. albiflora) that was first collected by Forrest and sent to J.C. Williams of Caerhays Castle in 1924. At the time Forrest considered it P. forrestii, or a variety of it, before the parentage was scientifically determined. The hybrid grows in southwest Yunnan and is distinguished by having larger flowers and a cut lip, but the main feature (for commerce) is that it is a cinch to grow, at least the cultivar 'Golden Gate'. I don't know who raised and named it, whether it is a seedling selection of x confusa or if it is x confusa crossed with something else.

Roscoea cautleyoides 'Jeffrey Thomas'

Forrest writes: “In the more open forests and glades some of the finer lower-level herbaceous plants are found.” He lists a dozen or more, including Roscoea cautlioides [sic]. This perennial in the ginger family (Zingiberaceae) flowers like an orchid but they are not related. Roscoea was named by English botanist James Edward Smith in 1806 for his friend William Roscoe, the latter being the founder of the Liverpool Botanic Garden. The specific epithet is spelled a number of ways, sometimes with a “y” and sometimes not, but in any case it honors Sir Proby Thomas Cautley (1802-1871). He wore a lot of hats and spent considerable time in India as an engineer and is most famous for the construction of the Ganges canal. With much perseverance he finally persuaded the British East India Company to back him. One wonders if Sir Cautley ever saw the alpine perennial that bears his name.

Cardiocrinum giganteum var. yunnanense

Cardiocrinum giganteum var. yunnanense

Also from the “open forests and glades” is Lilium giganteum, although we know it now as Cardiocrinum giganteum (from Greek kardia for “heart” and krinon for “lily,” due to the heart-shaped leaves). Presumably in Forrest's tale he encountered the var. yunnanense form, which we find to have leaves and flowers smaller than C. giganteum. The genus was first described by the Austrian botanist Stephen Endlicher, who also first described the genus Sequoia.

Paeonia lutea

Paeonia lutea

Paeonia delavayi

Forrest encountered Paeonia lutea in Yunnan in The Cang Shan range and he writes: “There, Pere Delavay first discovered Paeonia lutea, and, no doubt, the seed which produced the specimens now in cultivation came from there, though since that time, the species has been found much further north.” P. lutea was first described and named in 1886, but some “experts” preferred it to be included as a variety under P. delavayi, which usually produces maroon flowers. In any case, the genus was named for the Greek Paeon who was the physician of the gods, the name coming from the Greek root for “healing.” The Pythian Ode – a Greek lyric from the 5^th century BC – contains the admonition: “You are a doctor prompt to the moments hour; Paean pays honour to your name.”

Rosa sericea pteracantha

Rosa sericea pteracantha

Forrest writes: “In the forest and by the stream are a multitude of fine shrubs. The best form of Rosa sericea, viz. pteracantha, is plentiful, striking alike in its large crimson armature and orange and red fruits.” Striking “armature” indeed! I thoughtfully sited one west of my house, and in late summer evenings I can sit on my deck while the low sun causes the translucent thorns to glow. In The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs we are advised that the thorns are “especially conspicuous on young and vigorous basal shoots and may be encouraged by an annual or bi-annual pruning.” However, my specimen is a 10 foot tall and wide beast, and none of my employees are happy to take on the pruning task. Years can go by until I get around to doing it myself.

Yunnan, China

Yunnan, China

I conclude Part 1 of Forrest's report of the flora of Yunnan, saving his summation of the Rhododendrons for another blog. Forrest reflects:

“In such a short account it is impossible to give more than the merest sketch of the finer groups. The country teems with new species, even in the central and southern regions. Much of the province is yet unexplored; in the north and north-west only the veriest fringe has been touched. There a great harvest awaits the first in the field, a harvest of horticultural novelties, which, satiated as we almost are by the many fine things introduced in recent years from Western China, will astonish us.”