The Fleeting Season

Our past year saw some extreme and brutal weather events. For this nurseryman the seasons can be described thusly:

spring is emerging,

summer is enduring,

autumn is fleeting and finally

winter hunkers.

So, we're in autumn now, and though we are rewarded with fantastic foliage colours, I describe the season as fleeting because it squeezes itself in between the long, exhausting summer and the even longer and possibly fatal winter when I consider my business most vulnerable. Fall seems the most transitional of the four where summer continues to linger, while yet a frost in September alerts us to the frigid days ahead.

"Bomb" Cyclone

Just a week ago we had visitors, and they reminded us that we work in a most glorious place. Yes, the warm afternoon sun was brightly and warmly greeting our guests, and their enthusiasm was infectious, and even grumpy old Buchholz was able to smile. I was proud to have accumulated a floral collection that brought joy to others, and I found myself imagining another forty years of nursery ownership. Ahhh...But then the benign elements suddenly succumbed to Nature-Bitch mode when a weather pattern developed into a bomb cyclone – a new meteorological term – just off the Pacific coast. Strong wind and heavy rain pelted the nursery for a week and sayonara to autumn fun, at least for many of our trees.

Acer palmatum 'Mon zukushi'

Acer palmatum 'Mon zukushi'

Book of Japanese Kamon Emblems

Kamon Emblems

Acer palmatum 'Mon zukushi' was glowing next to our road as my wife Haruko and I drove past, and while its warm red delighted her I considered the dismal commercial aspect, namely that it is not a strong seller. But yes, dear, it is lovely, but I usually keep no more than 20 at the nursery at any given time. I could sense Haru cringing because her simple appreciation of the maple would then be compromised by my inevitable probe into the meaning of the name. According to MrMaple.com its name translates as “One of the sacred treasures,” and it was listed in Japan as early as 1704. When I presented that translation to Haruko she stared at me in bewildered silence, and when I snapped her back to the present she admitted that the word “sacred” gave her pause, wondering if “sacred” had more broad meaning possibilities than what she knew about. Ok, so what then? Haru sighed.......then explained that mon is a “symbol or mark,” like a family crest where each family – whether the Emperor's, or her maiden Nagamine's – contains a representative kamon (ka = family, mon = crest) and/or variations. Zukushi means “filled with” or “so many,” as in a tree where each leaf is precious looking. After delivering her version, Haru went to the kitchen to do the dishes, preferring that chore to dealing with Husband's Inquisitions. I apologize to the reader, and even moreso to my wife if I have rendered any of this incorrectly, which I probably have.

Acer palmatum 'Inazuma'

Acer palmatum 'Inazuma'

Acer palmatum 'Inazuma'

At the entrance into the main road at Flora Farm is an old specimen of Acer palmatum 'Inazuma', commonly known in the literature as the “Thunder maple.” It is not the most spectacularly red, or purple-red, of the myriad of upright red Japanese maples, yet in autumn it certainly does present a thunderous appearance. Sadly, yet another commercially over-looked cultivar; but then, what do I care? 'Inazuma' is an old-timer that was known by at least 1882, or perhaps even before...but not considered much today.

Japanese rice plants

Farm Woman - Hirezaki Eiho (1881-1970)

Japanese Farmer and His Wife

Oh, sorry, I sensed that Haruko again cringed when I demanded: “What!, What! What does inazuma mean? – thunder!, Right?” Uh...”no,” she responds. “Perhaps more accurately it is the Lightning maple. “'Inazuma', Talon, is the 'Lightning maple'.” H knows that it would be far more simple to automatically agree with me, but thankfully her Japanese pride compels her to accurately bridge the gap between her demanding husband and the Flora Wonder readership. Haruko explains: Ina is the rice plant, and the Japanese farmers long noticed that it would ripen at the time of intense autumn weather when lightning was common. Zuma – maybe the wife of an old farmer – signifies a close relationship that he also has with his rice plants. He might say “Oh good, lightning happened, the rice will now develop.” Just thunder – the sound part – is “kaminari.” A Thunder Dad is nicknamed “kaminari oyaji,” for a father who gets mad quickly.

Acer palmatum 'Umegae'

Acer palmatum 'Umegae'

Near the office is an old specimen of Acer palmatum 'Umegae', and it was shining brilliantly orange. Its foliage is plum-red in spring and features prominent green veins, and our old friend develops light green seed with increasing shades of red in autumn. The name (oo-may-gah-eh) contains the obvious ume for “plum” while the gae part refers to “the branch of,” so for some reason the “branch of the plum” seemed fitting to the namer back in the 1880's. As with 'Inazuma' and 'Mon zukushi' sales have never been strong, except that any healthy, nicely-shaped maple always does sell. I send David up the ladder once every two or three years for the best 25-50 scions at the top. There's no good wood below or I would cut them myself, but at this point I limit myself to just three steps up the ladder. David is a grafter and he knows what to cut, and I've learned to leave a banana at the foot of the tree, so he always makes his way down.

Acer palmatum 'Kamagata'

Acer palmatum 'Kamagata'

Acer palmatum 'Kamagata'

Acer palmatum 'Kamagata'

Last week's visitors were demonstrably impressed with Acer palmatum 'Kamagata', an interesting cultivar that was selected and named by the maple enthusiast and author J.D. Vertrees of Oregon. He insisted that his findling was a dwarf, and no doubt the original seedling appeared to be, but when he writes, “After eight years, a plant at Maplewood was just over 3' in height,” he doesn't specify if that's the size of the original – which is on its own roots – or the size of a grafted progeny. I find the cultivar to be relatively slow and dense, but our grafted crops are over twice the size as the Vertrees claim. 'Kamagata' was so named due to the small lobes which are “hooked or downward-curved at the tip,” as the Japanese name means “falcate.” Vertrees writes in Japanese Maples, “This dwarf type, 'Kamagata', performs and appears quite differently from any other cultivar with which I am familiar, or can find in the literature.” For the record I have found a number of 'Kamagata' types but I didn't name any, and so has Dick van der Maat of Boskoop, Holland who has named a few (such as 'Diana' and 'Katja'). The first plant purchase of my career, 41 years ago, was six maples from Vertrees at his retail price, and one of the plants was 'Kamagata'. I liked his introduction, and besides I thought my 'Kamagata' purchase might help ingratiate myself to him.

Acer shirasawanum 'Mikado'

Acer shirasawanum 'Mikado'

Acer shirasawanum 'Mikado'

I discovered and named Acer shirasawanum 'Mikado' about 20 years ago and the original seedling, probably a hybrid with an Acer palmatum, resides in the original Display Garden. The foliage color is plum-purple in spring and summer, changing to orange-red in fall. I wrote in the past: I won't go so far to say that I'm tired of the deep red-purple foliage of Acer palmatums 'Bloodgood' or 'Red Dragon', but after a long career of producing them by the thousands, I've grown to appreciate the plummy hue of 'Mikado'. The only problem is that the original tree (photo above) is now twice that size in a space way too small, and I fret about the enormous task to transplant it. The word Mikado was formerly used for the Emperor of Japan, from mi for “honorable” and kado for “gate” or “portal,” and it was first used in 1727. Of course The Mikado was an operetta by W.S. Gilbert and Sir Arthur Sullivan which premiered at the Savoy in London on March 4, 1885. It was an instant hit and ran for 672 performances, with fun characters such as The Mikado for the Emperor, Nanki-Poo, The Mikado's son (disguised as a wandering minstrel), the maiden Yum-Yum – I married a Yum-Yum too – and Pooh-Bah, the Lord High of Everything.

Acer japonicum 'Aconitifolium'

Acer japonicum 'Aconitifolium'

A photo from a previous year shows Acer japonicum 'Aconitifolium' in its autumn glory, and most maple collectors find the cultivar to color dependably. This year was different, however, because most of the leaves turned to orange, then brown, and defoliated soon after our record-smashing 116F inferno of June 22. I've had to accept the unsightly mass for the past four months, and I regretted that it was originally planted along the main road into the nursery. I'll never remove the tree as long as it's alive, but I could understand if the next owner wants to get rid of the old, lichenous behemoth. The botanic name, 'Aconitifolium', is unfortunate for what is commonly called the “Fern-leaf maple,” as the leaves somewhat resemble those of the Aconitum genus. I prefer the more poetic Japanese name of 'Maiku jaku' which means “dancing peacock,” but I don't want to risk confusing customers if I dropped the old Latin name.

Enkianthus campanulatus in Japan

Enkianthus campanulatus 'Hollandia Red'

Enkianthus campanulatus 'Showy Lantern'

Enkianthus campanulatus 'Showy Lantern'

Not only are the maples impressive, but so-too another genus, Enkianthus, which is native from the Himalaya to Japan. The species E. campanulatus was introduced in 1880 by Charles Maries while he was collecting for the Veitch Nursery firm of England. I have seen the species in the Japanese wild in November and the foliage was brilliant. At the nursery the fall color ranges from yellow to orange to red, as do many of the maple cultivars depending on where they are sited. The E.c. 'Hollandia Red' photo was taken yesterday of a bush growing in shade down by Springhill Creek at the southern edge of the nursery, while the more-orange 'Showy Lantern' is from a planting in the Display Garden in full sun. The Enkianthus genus was named for its flowers, from Greek enkyos meaning “pregnant” and anthos meaning “flower,” in reference to the swelling at the base of each flower. The ericaceous, erect shrub is honored with numerous plantings in my collection, and though not as gracefully elegant as many Japanese maples, still they pair well with each other, just as they do in their Oriental lands.

Intern Saori at Heritage Seedlings

Gordlinia grandiflora

A few days ago Haruko and I visited Mark and Jolly Krautmann's nursery, Heritage Seedlings of Salem, Oregon. Fall color was fantastic – our timing was perfect – and our new Japanese intern Saori was enjoying their block of Nyssa sylvatica seedlings. One purpose to visit was to keep my word about supplying Mark with the weeping Stewartia monadelpha 'Fuji shidare' which I obtained years ago from Shibamichi Honten in Japan. The day was mostly cloudy and rainy, but when we returned to the nursery in the afternoon the sun broke through for a moment and I could capture the beautiful color of my original specimen. That was my reward, I suppose, or my karma for sharing a plant. It's a good practice to share, and I came home with two small Gordlinia which were loaded with flower buds.

Stewartia monadelpha 'Fuji shidare' October 20th, 2021

Stewartia monadelpha 'Fuji Shidare' October 29th, 2021

Thanks for the memories, Fleeting Fall, for my 'Fuji shidare' is now mostly bare of leaves, and so too the other trees in this blog. We will soon enter into the skeletal winter, and there we will hunker for a few months.