Friday, September 30, 2022

Maple Species from Japan (Part 1)

Acer palmatum


Acer japonicum


Acer shirasawanum


The islands of Japan are blessed with a sizable number (about 20) of Acer (maple) species, some of which you have probably never seen. Most growers, both commercial and the hobbyist, are quite familiar with the Big Three: with Acer palmatum certainly, and to a lesser extent Acer japonicum and Acer shirasawanum. All three are compatible (as rootstock-to-scions) with each other, although there are other species that would combine as well (for example the Chinese Acer oliverianum).


Maple grafts

Early in my career I collected and propagated cultivars (cultivated variants), and I assumed at the time that the three species were sufficient to cover what ever was to be the future of Buchholz Nursery. The late maple guru and author, J.D. Vertrees, took an interest in my company, which pleased me greatly. Once he asked if I was interested in other species of maple, to which I replied, “Not particularly.” He responded, “Well, you will.” Vertrees wasn't aware, apparently, that my mental faculties were at their limit with just three species, and I blamed the “full sponge theory” for my limitations, that my brain couldn't absorb any more information without deleting some of what I had already processed. Besides, I was obsessed with money...because I didn't have any, and all of my efforts were geared toward financial survival. Well, Vertrees was right and I eventually began to study and propagate other species, to my great enjoyment. But I was right too, in the sense that the Big Three have accounted for over 95% of my career's maple sales.


Carl Peter Thunberg

Thunberg's Flora Japonica


The great botanist Linnaeus coined the genus name of Acer which is Latin for “sharp,” apparently in reference to the sharply pointed lobes on some species. A student, or “disciple” of Linnaeus was Carl Peter Thunberg (1743-1828), a Swedish naturalist who eventually traveled to Japan and produced his Flora Japonica in 1784. His sojourns were limited but he was the first to describe Acer palmatum in 1820, a species also found growing in eastern China, Korea and Taiwan. Acer japonicum followed in 1864, although Thunberg was long gone by then.

Gen ichi Koidzumi


Peter Gregory admiring an Acer circinatum witches broom
 at Portland, Oregon's Hoyt Arboretum

If you investigate the history of the last (of these three) specific epithets, credit for Acer shirasawanum goes to “Koidz,” who describes the species as, “A small bushy tree or large shrub of elegant habit...” Since I have propagated and sold many thousands of these “bushy trees,” I'm naturally curious to know about the specific namer. Gen ichi Koidzumi (1883-1953) was a Japanese botanist who specialized in the Rosaceae family besides maples, and who could argue for a better, though unrelated, combination? He was Professor of Plant Taxonomy at Kyoto University and helped to found the journal Acta Phytotaxonomica et Geobotanica in 1932, and also worked on the Revisio Aceracearum Japonicarum in 1913. With fellow botanist Takenoshin Nakai he compiled Trees and Shrubs Indigenous in Japan Proper in 1927. Though the intellectual held university credentials, I wonder what he was really like in the garden or field. Some of these “professors” are/were insufferable and amateurs such as I have learned to give them wide berth. Others have dirt under their fingernails and are primarily motivated by instilling enthusiasm for botany with children and the rustic layman. I fall somewhere between these two groups, and I recognize and appreciate the efforts of Acer experts such as the late Englishman Peter Gregory, author of Japanese Maples (4th edition), as a down-to-earth apostle for the Acer genus.

Acer pictum 'Hoshi yadori'


Acer pictum 'Usu gumo'

When Vertrees quizzed me about additional Acer species, at the time we were standing near Acer pictum 'Hoshi yadori', a large-leafed species of A. pictum, and a cultivar with cream-white splashed or dotted (sunago fu) on the green bat-wing-like green leaves. Honestly I didn't care for any of it at the time and I still don't. Acer pictum 'Usu gumo' is more my type, and it's a colorful, compact variegated selection that has never been difficult to sell. Usu is Japanese for “thin” and gumo means “spider” or “cloud.” With the maple in question, “thin cloud” seems an appropriate name, however the network of veins on the leaf resembles a spider-web pattern.

Acer pictum 'Usu gumo'


Acer pictum 'Usu gumo'

Vertrees describes 'Usu gumo' as “difficult to propagate and not widely known in collections.” I've done my part to make it available, using Acer truncatum as rootstock, and I consider it as “easy” to graft as any maple cultivar if one begins with healthy rootstock and young, vigorous scions – the type that you'll find on five-year-old plants grown in containers that are pushed in a protective greenhouse. I don't want to come across as dismissive (or sacrilegious) about the Vertrees experience, but I regret that we didn't have more time together to share our propagation experiences.


Map of Sakhalin Island

Ainu people of Japan

Acer truncatum

Acer truncatum


Acer truncatum (“Shantung maple”) is occasionally grouped with “Japanese maples” because the Chinese native is closely related to Acer pictum, and because it occurs on Sakhalin Island which is located just north of Hokkaido, Japan, a territory that Russia currently controls through its military power, but a land that contains remnants of the pre-Japanese native Ainu people, and was first settled by Japanese fishermen on its southern coast. Acer truncatum is a tough, hardy, small deciduous tree that is championed by Metro Maples Nursery in Fort Worth, Texas where it performs admirably in that hell-hole environment. The species was named by Alexander von Bunge (1803-1890) (of Pinus bungeana fame) who was actually born in Kiev, Ukraine, which likewise the Russians now claim to own.

Acer buergerianum

Acer buergerianum 'Mino yatsubusa'

Acer buergerianum subsp. ningpoense

Acer buergerianum subsp. ningpoense



Acer buergerianum (“Trident maple”) is another Chinese species that many assume to be a Japanese native, but only because it is widely cultivated in the “Land of the Rising Sun.” The cumbersome specific epithet honors J. Buerger (1804-1858) who discovered the maple, but it's far easier to call it the “Trident maple” due to its normal appearance with three lobes. There's no maple species, in my experience, that out-shines the Trident for fall color, and with the dwarf cultivar 'Mino yatsubusa' you get green, yellow, orange, red and purple, often at the same time. A subspecies of Acer buergerianum is ningpoense, coming from Ningpo (or today, Ningbo), an area in Zhejiang, China. It is probably a zone less cold tolerant (to USDA zone 6, -10 F) than other locations of the Trident. De Beaulieu throws me into some confusion when he describes the leaves of the subspecies as being “two-lobed,” when the photos above clearly demonstrate three lobes. Furthermore, De B states that “On the young shoots the red leaves are in groups of three, with a larger leaf in the middle...” I've not seen any such grouping, so I'm left to wonder if my version is accurate. This is where the Flora Wonder Blog should become a two-way street, a forum, so I would appreciate if someone could set me straight, thanks.

Philipp von Siebold

Siebold's Flora Japonica


Philipp von Siebold (1796-1866) is no stranger to the Flora Wonder Blog, and the German physician/botanist was known for his studies of the Japanese flora and fauna. A maple was named in his honor, Acer sieboldianum, by botanist FAW Miquel. Siebold also penned a Flora Japonica, as did Thunberg earlier, with the help of another German botanist, Joseph Gerhard Zuccarini (1797-1848). The work appeared in 1835 but it was not completed in Siebold's lifetime, and after his death it was completed by Miquel.


Acer sieboldianum 'Sode no uchi'

Acer tenuifolium 'Keikan zan'

My experience with Acer sieboldianum is limited, and I have never grown the straight species, only a few cultivars. The first I collected was 'Sode no uchi', a slow-growing compact form. However, Japanese author Masayoshi Yano in his Book for Maples suspects that it more correctly belongs to Acer tenuifolium. The latter is difficult to find in the literature, and not as a recognized species, but as a variety (var.) of Acer shirasawanum, at least according to De Beaulieu in his An Illustrated Guide to Maples (Timber Press, 2003). I know of only one other cultivar of A. tenuifolium, 'Keikan zan', which certainly looks like a smaller-leaved version of the “Full Moon maple,” Acer shirasawanum. The reader probably grows weary at this point, and must wonder why any of this matters, to which I have no answer.


Acer sieboldianum 'Mequel'

Acer sieboldianum 'Kumoi nishiki'

Acer sieboldianum 'Mikasa nishiki'


The recognized cultivars of A. sieboldianum that I have grown include the wonderfully variegated 'Kumoi nishiki', 'Microphyllum' with smallish leaves, 'Mikasa yama' with its narrow canopy (at least for me) and the spreading, semi-weeping 'Seki no kegon'. I have also seen a variegated selection in Yano's collection, 'Mikasa nishiki', which was colorful in a pot in semi-shade. Another sieboldianum cultivar growing at Yano's is 'Mequel', but that was seen in late fall, with only one vigorous whip-shoot still with leaves; the only reason I mention 'Mequel is because I wonder if that is a misspelling of Miquel, the German botanist who finished Siebold's Flora Japonica. Hmm...


Acer pseudosieboldianum

Acer pseudosieboldianum

Specific epithets are given to plants to document particular attributes, such as alpina for those growing in alpine regions, alba for white colour, thunbergii to commemorate a plantsman/botanist, nana for a dwarf habit etc. I dislike epithets that allude to other plants, such as with Acer pseudosieboldianum, which would means the “false” Acer sieboldianum. I don't know – it just seems like the naming botanist took a cheap shortcut. Acer sieboldianum was introduced to the West in about 1880, while the similar Acer pseudosieboldianum was named by botanist Pax in 1904. Stuff like that can be confusing to the amateur gardener, if not the professional grower also. Come up with something original or leave the naming to another. In any case Hillier in Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2019) describes Acer pseudosieboldianum as “a very graceful, large shrub or small tree of spreading habit...” My experience differs, for those I have grown are usually narrow and straggly, kind of like our native “Vine maple,” Acer circinatum, and where growing in clumps is the best method to deal with the unshapeliness. Mark Krautmann of Heritage Seedlings, Oregon, has grown thousands of seedlings of A. pseudosieboldianum, commonly known as the “Korean maple,” and he describes it as a “wild species” that hasn't been grown long enough to settle into horticulture. Anyway, that's what he said 10 years ago, even though I don't quite follow that logic. The outstanding feature in my opinion is the vibrant autumn colours and a very important attribute is that the species is cold hardy to -30 F, USDA zone 4. The hardiness has been promoted in recent years with selections crossed with Acer palmatum, and I've seen the hybrids thriving in cold places such as in northern Montana, where the premier garden center in Kalispell carried no A. palmatums at all, only the hardy hybrids.


Acer carpinifolium

Acer carpinifolium

Acer carpinifolium 'Esveld Select'

Another Japanese species that alludes to a different plant is Acer carpinifolium, the “Hornbeam maple.” This small-to-medium-size tree was introduced from Japan in 1879 by Charles Maries who collected for the English Veitch Nursery firm. I've heard comments like, “That sure doesn't look like a maple to me!,” to which I love to point out a branch with the tell-tale maple samaras. Acer carpinifolium is also hardy to -30 F, or so they say – but I would sooner jump off the bridge than experience temperatures that cold in my Oregon nursery. I have only one specimen left at Flora Farm, but prior to that I grew a couple hundred seedlings which I found difficult to sell. I suppose because the flowers are insignificant and the autumn colour is yellow-to-brown, a subtle and warm, but uncommercial colour. One regret of my career is that I was never able to acquire the boldly serrated selection, Acer carpinifolium 'Esveld Select', discovered and named by the renowned maple nursery in Boskoop, Holland. Someone, please, treat me to a surprise!


Acer crataegifolium 'Eiga nishiki'

Acer crataegifolium 'Meuri ofu'

Acer crataegifolium 'Meuri ofu'

Acer crataegifolium 'Veitchii'

Acer crataegifolium 'Veitchii'

Yet another allusive specific epithet belongs to Acer crataegifolium, the “Hawthorne maple.” It too was collected by Charles Maries from Japan in 1879. Crataegus leaves are without much merit in my opinion, but the maple leaves of the Acer species don't resemble any Hawthorne species that I've ever seen anyway. What a shame to be saddled with a difficult name to pronounce and spell, especially since the maple is daintily attractive to me. There are a few variegated cultivars that I have propagated – 'Eiga nishiki', 'Meuri ofu' and 'Veitchii', with the latter two looking similar. What I find interesting is that the species was introduced in 1879, while the cultivar 'Veitchii' was introduced just two years later in 1881. Of course the “Veitch” name was chosen to honor the sponsoring English firm that sent Maries to Japan in the first place. I doubt that in just two years a variegated form could have been selected in England, and so the variegated clone must have been of Japanese origin. Did Maries discover it, or was there a Japanese grower who should get the credit? Did Veitch in England receive the one and only seedling specimen, or were there others in production? Hillier describes 'Veichii': “Leaves heavily mottled with white and pink, brilliant pink and purple in autumn.” One can produce 'Veitchii' from softwood cuttings in summer under mist, but for a stronger-growing tree the use of Acer davidii, or another species in the Macrantha section, is recommended. Brian Humphrey in his The Benchgrafter's Handbook (CRC Press, 2019) mentions that “Acer palmatum is also said to produce a compatible union.” I wonder about that comment since it seems unlikely to this nurseryman, but for the sake of the narrative we grafted a flat of 25 yesterday and I'll report my results in a year or two.


Acer crataegifolium 'Veitchii'

Masayoshi yano

I had an interesting occurrence with the aforementioned A.c. 'Veitchii', that an older specimen – always heavily variegated – was transplanted from the nursery to Flora Farm. Some digging trauma for a ball-and-burlap tree is normal, but usually it's a minor set-back and the victim will recover in a year or two. My specimen survived, but in spring it leafed out with just green leaves and no variegation. Then a 2nd and 3rd year passed, also without variegation. The famous Japanese maple guy, Masayoshi Yano, approached my tree with curiosity. After eyeing the tree he noticed the label and his face registered complete confusion. Why was there a 'Veitchii' with no colour? I recounted the digging-trauma theory but he still looked dubious, and to this day I imagine he viewed my credentials with suspicion. But in the 4th spring after the transplantment the foliage emerged heavily variegated again, and I wanted to drag Yano back to Oregon to prove that my tree was indeed correctly identified. So: 3 years with no colourful variegation, the 4th with spectacular colour...but the 5th year nothing leafed out because the tree was dead. I felt that 'Veitchii' was ungrateful after all my perserverance. All of that was 10 years ago and I've been unable to source a replacement.


Acer micranthum

Acer micranthum

Acer micranthum from Westonbirt Arboretum

One of my favorite of all Japanese maple species is Acer micranthum, commonly called the “small-flowered maple” as the epithet micranthus means “having small flowers.” As with Acer crataegifolium, Acer micranthum can be rooted by cuttings, or by grafting on anything in the section Micrantha. A beautiful photo of the wonderful Acer micranthum in autumn (at Westonbirt Arboretum in England) is found on page 198 in De Beaulieu's illustrated guide, and in fact that's the very tree that got me hooked on the species. I was with Peter Gregory who was then head of the arboretum, and I remember his eyes sparkling with delight as he showed off its pinkish-red seed clusters. In spring the small pale-yellow flowers develop into tiny seeds, the smallest in the Acer genus. Everything about the tree is dainty, yet it is supposedly cold hardy to -20 F, USDA zone 5. I have grown it in full sun, the only problem being a slightly burnt trunk when the tree was young and the summer temperature exceeded 100 F. Acer micranthum was introduced to Europe about 1880, although it was described by Siebold and Zuccarini in 1845.

I'll pause for now, about halfway through my Maple Species from Japan, and hopefully I can continue next week with a review of other wonderful species.

Friday, September 23, 2022

Hot Summer 2022, Revisited

Acer palmatum 'Sweet Lorraine'
 

Cornus florida 'Ragin Red'


Acer palmatum 'Lily L'


Earlier in September I presented a number of plant photos, Summer Sights, that I encountered in July/August (2022). The theme was that old Buchholz drags himself through another hot spell – 90s F and 100s F were the norm, not the unusual – but still the gardens held numerous floral treasures. I don't know if my employees found any joy to accompany their arduous assignments, as they seemed preoccupied with survival primarily, and they must wonder how a seed pod, a cone or a mid-summer flower can intrigue me. Well, I had better find some entertainment with my plants and their parts, because I too find drudgery in most of my wholesale nursery activities.



Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Van den Akker'

Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Van den Akker'


The photolog started out with a Chamaecyparis nootkatensis cultivar ('Van den Akker') which I have propagated and sold for approximately 25 years. The above “couple” resides at Flora Farm, the spill-over arboretum of Buchholz Nursery, and after about 20 years in the ground they finally smooched...and they were probably relieved to get it over with. Another 'Van den Akker' has been dubbed my “ballerina” tree due to its zestful pose, but I know that in a half-dozen years from now its exuberance will evolve into a specimen more subdued, or at least different.


Chamaecyparis nootkatensis

Chamaecyparis nootkatensis


I continue to label and sell the propagules of “Alaska cedar” as belonging to the Chamaecyparis genus even though Hillier in the Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2019) alerts us to see Xanthocyparis nootkatensis for the (newly) correct identity, while others suggest that Callitropsis nootkatensis is the moniker that takes precedence. I'll admit that it seems (to this simpleton) that it's more Cupressus than Chamaecyparis anyway, and the other generic designations only confuse my employees and customers. Of course I have a desire to be current and correct with nomenclature, but I have propagated literally thousands of them – yeah tens of thousands of them – under the previous name of Chamaecyparis nootkatensis, and I prefer to finish my career as such. Botanists usually have no experience propagating and selling trees, turning a profit that is, but I completely understand their penchant for getting the name right. I suppose that if there was a resounding consensus on the proper name – Xanthocyparis versus Callitropsis versus Chamaecyparis versus Cupressus – I would make the tedious effort to comply.


Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Van den Akker'


Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Pendula'


Perhaps of interest is that nootkatensis, by which ever generic name, is fairly easy to root by cuttings in winter, and I suspect that late-summer's wood would work as well, Most growers in the trade, however, prefer to graft onto Thuja orientalis rootstock, and if you don't achieve at least 85-95 percent you've had a bad year. If the “Alaska cedar” is compatible with Thuja orientalis (AKA Platycladus orientalis), one is tempted to also graft upon Thuja occidentalis, because how would that be much different? Well, the grafts will “take” on the occidental rootstock, but not very well, and after a few years the combination is doomed to failure. I once saw a field of about one thousand, with T. occidentalis 'Smaragd' as rootstock, and at five years of age about half were outright dead, with the remainder soon to follow. But, but to complicate matters, at Buchholz Nursery at least, most nootkatensis cultivars prosper with Thuja orientalis as rootstock, and my oldest specimens (of 'Pendula') are approximately 45 years of age and still vigorous. But for some reason 'Van den Akker' does not perform as well from a graft compared to the others. I can't explain why, and though it is probably just my individual experience, I don't want an unnecessary fight so we just grow 'Van den Akker' on its own roots. Maybe the preferred rootstock would be the same genus and species, but in my experience the nootkatensis rootstock is less adaptable and hardy in container culture compared to Thuja orientalis. If I won the lottery – which I won't since I never play – I imagine that I'd never sell “Alaska cedar” again, and instead devote myself to rigorous, empirical research to determine the most favourable rootstock. As it is now, though, my capitalistic leanings guide my efforts, and greater plant knowledge would require a true plantsman and not this hum-drum nurseryman. Actually, due to the rank cat-piss-smell of nootkatensis foliage, if I won the lottery I would abandon the species altogether.


Hibiscus syriacus 'Meehanii'


Hibiscus syriacus 'Meehanii'


Hibiscus syriacus 'Meehanii'


My July-August photo review featured Hibiscus syriacus 'Meehanii', and before you conclude that the Latinized cultivar name (ending in ii) is invalid, be aware that it was coined in about 1867 – according to Hillier – so today's nomenclatural rules didn't apply back then. Hillier furthermore confesses that no date is known when H. syriacus was first Europirially cultivated, but that the east-Asian species was found in England as early as the late 16th century. The specific epithet syriacus would indicate that it is native to Syria in the Near East, but actually it was widely introduced throughout Asia, and the specific name was bestowed because it was collected from gardens there. No doubt that irks the Koreans for it is their national flower, and the name also occurs in the South Korean national anthem. There it is known as mugunghwa which means “eternity” or “inexhaustible abundance.” The generic name Hibiscus is derived from Greek ibiskos meaning “marsh mallow” – no, not “marshmallow.” A Hybiscus of unknown name grew next to the entrance to my daughter's grade school, and it seemed to be continually in bloom from early summer to late fall. We would greet the tree in the mornings as we walked into the school, “Hi Biscus!” – and daughter S. still remembers the generic name ten years later.


Nothopanax/Metapanax delavayi


Nothopanax/Metapanax delavayi


Nothopanax/Metapanax delavayi


I keep one pot of Nothopanax delavayi in a protective greenhouse, though I've never propagated nor sold a single tree of it. I have a mental block anyway about the myriad of panaxes: Nothopanax, Neopanax, Metapanax, Tetrapanax, Pseudopanax etc., but my most recent Hillier edition (2019) no longer lists Nothopanax and goes with Metapanax instead. M. delavayi, claimed to be a more elegant species than the Chinese M. davidii, is native to S.W. China and Vietnam. Hillier relates that Metapanax was introduced in 1981 by “the Sino-British Expedition to the Cangshan, Yunnan (China). The common denominator in the entire affair is the suffix “panax” which means “all-healing” in Greek, a word that shares the same origin as “panacea,”* and one that was used for the genus because Linnaeus was aware of its wide use in Chinese medicine.

*from Greek pan meaning “all” and akos meaning “remedy.”


Nothopanax/Metapanax delavayi


The Metapanax genus – if it's winter hardy for you – is an elegant, large airy shrub or small tree, quite attractive for its mahogany-coloured new growth, followed by green fruits in spring that mature to black by autumn. I enjoy my one plant of a panax for its ornamental value and I don't have the energy or curiosity to understand it further...except that the common medicinal herb Panax ginseng (Korean ginseng), P. notoginseng (South China ginseng) and Panax quinquefolius (American ginseng) are used in the cuisines and medicines of China and Korea and “New-Age” America. Nothopanax (or Metapanax) is an evergreen shrub, one of those bushes that you maybe wish was flat-out deciduous because it can appear rather disheveled in winter. But for me, I admire the leafy remnants that cling to the stems all the way through July before they drop away. I consider my one plant to be a BIO plant, i.e. of “Botanical Interest Only,” because I know that its sales at my nursery would be weak...to only a few plant nerds who are addicted (as am I) to esoteric plant experiences.


Acer macrophyllum 'Mocha Rose'


Acer macrophyllum 'Mocha Rose'


Acer macrophyllum 'Mocha Rose'


Acer macrophyllum 'Mocha Rose'


25 years ago I ordered 100 Acer macrophyllum seedlings from an Oregon grower (Drake's Crossing Nursery) to be used as rootstock for A.m. 'Seattle Sentinel' and A.m. 'Kimballiae'. Presumably these seedlings were under some level of scrutiny by the supplier before their harvest, and indeed 99 out of the 100 were vigorous green germinants that would support and nourish my two ornamental cultivars. Glaringly obvious was one deviant seedling, however, that stood out from the green group, one that pleasantly surprised me with its shiny rose-coloured leaves. I could see that it wasn't normal from the beginning, for even in bud the protective sheaths were reddish in colour, not the typical green of the species. I visited the seedling every day throughout the spring to note its progress, and by June I could determine that it was certainly unique. Eventually the seedling was planted at the nursery, and each spring many non-plant observers (such as casual friends, truck drivers and even my own employees) would notice and comment upon the tree with such strange shrimp-pink foliage. By summer the rose colour gives way to light brown, an attractive (non-burnt) hue that effectively mellows into the landscape. A visiting friend, Harriette, wife of my late best-friend Reuben Hatch – admired my specimen one early May morning, and wondered what on earth was going on in my landscape. Happy that she noticed my maple seedling, I revealed that it was a “selection under observation,” but one that had never been given a cultivar name. She flippantly suggested 'Mocha Rose' to honour the rose coloration in spring that is followed by a light mocha colour later in summer. So “Mocha Rose” then, the name stuck, though in hindsight the name should be 'Rose Mocha', to better describe the color progression. That truth was inconsequential to Harriette who decided that the better name was 'Mocha Rose'. To be sure, I have not propagated many, as the macrophyllum species (hardy to USDA zone 6, or -10F) is not perceived to be hardy for the majority of our market, and that ultimately it will grow too large for most garden placement. I won't argue any of that because customers are always right even when they are not...but just for the record, 'Mocha Rose' grows at only 1/4 to 1/3 the rate of the species. Highly ornamental are the dangling seed panicles, but thus far the resultant offspring are coloured reddish green and are of no particular interest.


Stewartia malacodendron


Stewartia malacodendron


Stewartia malacodendron


Stewartia malacodendron 'Beni suji'


Stewartia, the genus, and all of its species and hybrids, are considered “snob” plants, i.e., species of deciduous trees and shrubs that grace...well, snob gardens. The flowers are usually small, but elegant, and they appear in late summer when other trees and shrubs have quit their purpose. My favorite for flower and fall color must be the southeast native S. malacodendron. Hillier describes it as “A beautiful shrub with white flowers with purple stamens and bluish anthers in July and August.” In my greenhouse setting, the flowers actually mature as early as June, for in greenhouse culture it will bloom six weeks ahead of those out in the garden. Don't suppose that the epithet malacodendron referes to a “bad (mal) tree,” but rather to a “soft tree,” and its common name is “silky camellia” due to the texture of the flowers. If you examine the undersides of the leaves they also support silky hairs. The malacodendron flowers are exquisite and simply beautiful with rich purple centered within the pearl-white petals. I saw the exciting new cultivar S. malacodendron 'Beni suji' in Japan in 2019 which features reddish streaks that radiate from the center. Nurseryman Akira Shibamichi knew full well that I would covet the selection, but I played it cool and pretended to be only moderately interested. Twenty years before he gifted me a weeping form of Stewartia monadelpha which was apparently nameless at the time. Now named 'Fuji shidare', it has become a wonderful addition to the Buchholz oeuvre. I wonder if I'll be around long enough to eventually add 'Beni suji' to my garden.


Camassia leichtlinii 'Alba'


Camassia leichtlinii 'Blue Danube'


In my waterfall section at the nursery a grassy perennial makes its July floral appearance, Camassia leichtlinii, with cultivars 'Alba' and 'Blue Danube'. For a northern West-coast native it is surprising that the specific epithet honors Max Leichtlin (1831-1910), a German horticulturist and botanist. The species is commonly known as the “Great Camas,” “Quamash” and “Quamasia,” and in fact my Grandmother finished her final years in Camas, Washington, on the bluff above the Columbia River where the wildflower thrived in moist, but well-drained soils. Commonly called by Westerners the “Camas lily,” the previous occupants of the Columbia River area harvested the bulbs from open grasslands (or prairies) and ate the bulbs either roasted, boiled or eaten fresh. Furthermore, the Natives maintained their prairies through the use of fire, a practice that was abandoned by the conquering Europeans. Native families “farmed” their plots by aerating the soil with digging sticks and removing unwanted species. One should be cautious about consuming the bulbs that contain so much fiber however, for the men on the Lewis and Clark Expedition gorged on camas and salmon in Nez Pierce land, with the result a digestive disagreement. So while they were “sweet and good to the taste,” Clark became nauseous and reported, “I am verry [sic] sick to day and puke which relieve me,” and some of his men were sidelined for an entire week. The Native men were known to sit around the campire and happily eat the bulbs while producing great amounts of flatulence, which would seem like fun to me if accompanied by a couple of beers.


Zenobia pulverulenta 'Raspberry'


Zenobia pulverulenta 'Raspberry'


When I see my one last specimen of Zenobia pulverulenta 'Raspberry' in bloom, I feel bittersweet that we no longer propagate the ericaceous shrub. The semi-deciduous to deciduous bush is native to southeast USA where it thrives in similar conditions as suits the Camas lily – moist but well-drained. The cultivar name 'Raspberry simply refers to a clone with attractive reddish fall colour, not to be confused with 'Raspberry Ripple' where the white flowers are flushed with raspberry-pink. Botanist David Don, for some reason named the genus Zenobia for the queen of Palmyra, present day Syria where it would be virtually impossible to grow in the Arabian desert. Zenobia is a lyrical feminine name, even though it is Greek in origin and means “life of Zeus,” or more likely “born of Zeus” which makes more sense to describe the beautiful and intelligent ancient queen. Nice story, but ultimately our sales were weak for the last entry in our Master Plant List, so I didn't succeed to convert many to continue it.




Abies procera 'La Graciosa'


Abies procera 'La Graciosa'


I'll finish this blog with an August photo of Abies procera 'La Graciosa', a narrowly weeping selection of the “Noble fir.” The specimen is approximately 30' tall and rather scrappy, but it looked great as a silhouette in the evening August sky. Doves, pigeons and occasionally a red-tailed hawk love to perch at its top, keeping guard over the nursery.