Flora Wonder Blog: Enough of Winter, Already

Galanthus nivalis

Hamamelis intermedia 'Angelly'

Here we are...still in mid-winter at the end of January, but at least the days are growing longer. The garden wants to awaken, what with daffodils protruding from the soil, snow drops (Galanthus) already showing flower color and a number of Hamamelis in full bloom showing off lustfully. I have an urge to pat myself on the shoulder, as if we have successfully survived another winter, but I'm grounded by the fact that our coldest days may yet come.

Hamamelis vernalis 'Quasimodo'

Nevertheless, Hamamelis vernalis 'Quasimodo' is forward enough to express itself with winter flowers. Even though the days are cold, the sun occasionally appears in the afternoon, and the above photo demonstrates a floral performance even when temperatures hover barely above freezing. The gardener can expect tiny orange blossoms which are highly fragrant, all on a compact spreading shrub. The vernalis species is of American origin and is commonly known as the “Osark witch hazel.” The specific epithet is derived from vernal for “spring,” as the equinox happens around March 20^th or 21^st, yet 'Quasimodo' is obviously too impatient to wait. The cultivar name was a bizarre choice as it refers to the Sunday that follows Easter, getting its name from the opening words of the Latin chant quasi modo geniti infantes, meaning “the way that newborn infants do.” In Hugo's Hunchback of Notre Dame (1831), Quasimodo was the hunchbacked bell ringer at the cathedral in Paris, so maybe the witch hazel's low squatty appearance gave inspiration for the name.

Hamamelis vernalis 'Red Imp'

Hamamelis vernalis 'Sandra'

Hamamelis vernalis 'Sandra' and 'Red Imp' flower profusely, and though the flowers are small they are pleasantly scented. Both were Hillier selections in England from the 1960s, with 'Red Imp' being described in The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs “With petals claret-red at the base, paling to copper at the tips.” The copper aspect gives the petals a dirty look if you ask me, and I grow the shrub mainly for the fall color. At Buchholz Nursery we achieve vigorous growth on many shrubs, and 'Red Imp' for us is not so impish, as spring/summer shoots can elongate at least 3', just about as fast as any other cultivar. As for 'Sandra' I'm really not a fan of orange in the garden, but it also displays warm, foliage colors, and orange is ok when it's combined in the transition from yellow to red.

Camellia lutchuensis

Camellia 'Sweet Jane'

Camellia sasanqua 'Leslie Ann'

The Camellias are getting stirred up as well, and even a month ago I brought home a flowering twig of Camellia 'Sweet Jane'. This is a delightful selection, but not bombastic enough for the crass gardener, and in that respect it reminds me of C. sasanqua 'Leslie Ann' that we saw in full flower a month ago at Plant Delights Nursery in North Carolina. Owner Tony Avent described his tree as “too subtle to sell,” and I had to explain to Haruko what subtle meant, but we both protested that its demurity is exactly what attracts us. 'Sweet Jane' is a cross of C. japonica 'Edith Linton' x C. transnokoensis and has survived so far outside at Flora Farm for the past three winters. The C. transnokoensis species is a small-flowered native to the mountains of Taiwan, including Mt. Noko, hence the name of the specific epithet. I don't grow that species, but I have collected C. lutchuensis which is similar (from Taiwan and Japan), and it is one of the most pleasantly fragranted of all flowering plants.

Ilex aquifolium 'Night Glow'

The opposite of modest would be Ilex aquifolium 'Night Glow'. My start came from the garden of the late Dr. Bump of Forest Grove, Oregon, and indeed I first encountered it there in the evening just before dark...where it was glowing in the landscape. My purpose to visit his garden was to deliver a maple that he hounded me about for a number of years, but I'm glad that I came home with a few Ilex cuttings as well. Keep in mind that this evergreen shrub is not one of the numerous horticultural selections that colors most intensely in winter, for it shines equally brilliant in the middle of summer too, and it's remarkable that it completely withstood our humidless hell-scorcher at 116F two years ago. It is certainly one of the most noticeable plants on cloudy or foggy days in Oregon – a real gloom-buster – and the foliage serves perfect foil for its plump red fruits. The photo (above) of its red berries – take note – shows them to coexist with green leaves, not golden as I describe, but that's because these plants were growing under the shade/light diffusement in a white-poly greenhouse, so the obvious message is that the cultivar excels in full sun, but if grown in shade you'll be disappointed with its dull-green coloriage.

Ilex serrata 'Koshobai'

Another Ilex that sparkles in the winterscape is I. serrata 'Koshobai', the Japanese “peppercorn bush.” A mature plant can produce a thousand tiny red berries, not just small berries, but very “peppercorn tiny.” To prove my claim I placed a dozen-or-so fruits on a dime as a reference to their sub-atomic size, and when you gaze at the fruitful shrub in winter you might liken it to a million stars in the Milky Way. The I. serrata species was first described by Carl Peter Thunberg, then later classified as I. sieboldii (Miquel), then back to a form of I. serrata. The American botanist Charles Sprague Sargent noted 100 years ago that the leafless branches were popular as a house decoration in Japan because the berries colorfully persist for a few weeks. Even a month in my home.

Helleborus hybridus

The 'Winter Jewels' Hellebores in our Display Garden are mulling their options, and so far they choose to lay low even though the blossoms are maroon-purple and poised to unfurl. Our plants are the result of the breeding efforts of Ernie and Mariette O'byrne of Northwest Garden Nursery in Eugene, Oregon. As they claim: “Since 1992 we have been raising hellebores and hybridizing plants from the best growers in England, Germany and the USA. We hand-pollinate all our stock plants, which are kept isolated from other pollinators, and we have made dramatic improvements in color and form each year. We ruthlessly discard any inferior stock plant. Our aim is to produce consistent improvement in clarity of flower color, vigor and foliage.” Well, they certainly have, but now in their 80s the O'byrnes are retiring so I'm glad that we acquired some choice specimens about 10 years ago. They are individually labelled with just numbers, but we never named any, and at this point we never will. Soon our plants' flowers will grow erect and rise above their (rather ugly) foliage, but the blooms can amazingly withstand freezing temperatures. Many legends surround the Hellebore genus, such as H. niger being commonly called the “Christmas rose,” and one legend is that it sprouted in the snow from the tears of a young girl who had no gift to give to the Christ Child in Bethlehem. In another story hellebore was used to save the daughters of King Agros from a madness induced by Dionysus. Their affliction caused them to run naked through the city, crying and screaming, but of course women are capable of that with or without the influence of hellebores.

Stachyurus salicifolia

I frequent the lower BAGS (AKA Box Area Greenhouses), the area at the south end of the nursery that borders Springhill Creek and our hillside woods. There it is mostly cold and uninspiring in winter, but I visit a couple of times each week to inspect the health and vigor of the greenhouse contents, and also to acquire cuttings and scions. Rhododendrons and other shrubs have been planted in the humous-soil and shaded strip along the creek, and I notice at this time that the urgings of spring are occurring down there at the lowest, coldest elevation in the nursery. Stachyurus salicifolia was once in production, rooting fairly easy with softwood cuttings under mist in the summer. Though considered by elite gardeners to be a connoisseur's plant, especially adapted to the shaded garden, nevertheless sales were always weak for the zone 6 evergreen species. Down at the creek strip is my one-remaining specimen. I wouldn't be without it, and especially when a fleeting shaft of winter sunlight illuminates the sword-thin leaves all of its brethren taxa are proud to coexist.

Stachyurus salicifolia

The difficult generic name Stachyurus is perhaps a factor that contributes to weak sales, but then “spiketail” as a common name – in reference to the flowers – is not so inspiring either. At this point the racemes are evident but it'll be another two months before the blossoms open to a pale-yellow color. Sadly the salicifolia species is a zone less hardy than the more common S. praecox, and the S. salicifolia's flower performance is inferior to the praecox species.

Corylus cornuta

A Pacific Northwest native, Corylus, the wild filbert (or hazelnut), resides a few feet away from the exotic Stachyurus, and its long catkins are always a reliable harbinger of spring. In the photo above the hazel's flowers are shining through the lichenous foliage of Alnus rubra, which too flowers with catkins, but at a later date. If you rely on the Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2019), you'll gain no knowledge about our native's specific identity. According to Hillier there are two species native to North America, C. cornuta and C. americana. The latter is described as coming from “E. North America.” The C. cornuta is said to come from “E. and C. North America,” so what's the correct identity of the trees in my woods? The literature, such as native plants pnw, confirms that C. cornuta (meaning “horn” or “beak,” referring to the husk that encloses the nut) is correct, and other Northwest plant experts specify further that it is variety or subspecies californica. In any case C. cornuta and C. americana will hybridize, but I'm sticking with my opinion that I've got C. cornuta.

Corylus cornuta

Saint Philibert

The name corylus is originally from Greek krylos meaning “hazelnut.” The nut has the common name of “filbert,” and ever since I was a child that's the name we all used. But the industry's* marketing advisors suggest that “hazelnut” is preferable, more universal I guess. As for filbert's name, the feast day of a French saint named Philibert was celebrated at the same time as the nuts were harvested. In 1066, when the Normans conquered England, in their version of French the nuts were called “philbers” after the saint.

Pliny the Elder

Avella, Italy

*Oregon is number 2 in the world for filbert production, just behind Turkey. The trees can thrive without irrigation, and in Oregon's Willamette Valley one encounters thousands of acres, and at this time the farms present cream-yellow clouds with their millions of catkins. The species of commerce, however, is C. avellana from Europe. The scientific name “avellana” is derived from the town Avella in Italy, and that name was taken from Pliny the Elder's (first century AD) encyclopedia Naturalis Historia.

Garrya elliptica 'Evie'

Garrya elliptica 'James Roof'

Nicholas Garry

Another genus with elongating catkins at the end of January is Garrya, and Oregon's native G. elliptica is native to dry coastal areas in southern Oregon and northern California. In the family Garryaceae, it is commonly called the “silk tassel bush,” and as with the aforementioned Corylus genus, Garrya thrives in the Flora Wonder Arboretum with no irrigation. The leathery, evergreen, slightly wavy leaves are susceptible to leaf spot in our greenhouses where we irrigate constantly, but the species performs admirably outside in our dirt. We have grown the two most popular cultivars, 'Evie' and 'James Roof', but without their plant labels I can't tell the two apart. If you know to examine the tree, though, you'll find that the male plants have dangling catkins up to 12” (30cm) long, while the female's are shorter, to about 3” (8cm) long. The genus was introduced by David Douglas and was named for Nicholas Garry who was secretary of the Hudson's Bay Company (at their outpost in present day Vancouver, Washington) who was greatly helpful to the plant-hunter Douglas.

Tony Kirkham (left) examining Sassafras tsumu

Sassafras tsumu

Sassafras tsumu's flower

Last Summer, Tony Kirkham, the former Director of Kew Gardens in London, visited Flora Farm. In the middle of our tour he was spinning in circles as he tried to comprehend the myriad of species that surrounded him. Suddenly he focused on a lofty green tree in the distance and stridently marched over to inspect it; it was Sassafras tsumu, the Chinese counterpart (called “chu mu”) to our American S. albidum. Mr. K. was surprised to see it – and looking good – because he had tried and failed with growing it at Kew. But I've had no problem, and I even grow a larger specimen at the nursery in the Creek garden. I don't deserve any credit for my success, for my two specimens are largely unattended, other than to receive irrigation. The chu mu is one of the earliest of all flowering trees. They're not spectacular really, as say a Magnolia, but they are...interesting: small and pale-yellow, but the flowering is so prolific that they keep the pollinators busy.

Sassafras albidum

As with Sassafras albidum. S. tsumu has leaves which appear in three different shapes: with three lobes, two-lobe mitten-shape, or with a broad single lobe. The genus is in the Lauraceae family, with S. albidum being dioecious (male and female flowers on separate trees) and S. tsumu monoecious (male and female flowers on the same tree). Both species are deciduous and I love the orange-red autumn color, and if you turn over a fallen leaf the color is pinkish shiny-blue. Besides a pleasant aroma, S. albidum was used as a toothpick by Native Americans, while Kenneth Klemous PhD in Medical Attributes of Sassafras albidum (2003) claims that disorders ranging from toothaches to STD can be treated with the species. S. tsumu (AKA tzumu) is also used for medical purposes in China, to treat rheumatism and trauma, while the bark is used to produce safrole oil for commercial purposes.

Cryptomeria japonica 'Elegans Aurea Nana'

Rinnoji Temple

Some conifers display a fresh, spring-time look in all seasons, and recently the winter sunlight slanted side-ways at our Long Road garden and illuminated a large specimen of Cryptomeria japonica 'Elegans Aurea Nana'. I'm not sure if that cultivar name is valid – it was such when I first acquired it – because it is already about 35' tall (at 38 years of age). Hillier lists 'Elegans Aurea', and their description seems to match my tree. It doesn't bronze in winter as most Cryptomeria (sugi) cultivars do, which is amazing for such fine, almost juvenile foliage. The bark exfoliates attractively in narrow strips, and can be colored from gray-brown to reddish-brown. A couple of years ago a large Crypt outgrew its welcome, due to insufficient space, so we turned it into firewood. When burning, the odor of the roasting sugi transformed our home into a blissful abode...smelling like the famous shrine (Rinnoji Temple) I saw twenty years ago in Nikko, Japan.

Old Man Winter

Finally, by mid-morning (January 31^st) it is bright and sunny with blue skies. But it was in the teens when I left the house, with Old Man Winter announcing, “I'm Still Heeere.”

Flora Wonder Blog

Buchholz Nursery Website

Tuesday, January 31, 2023

Enough of Winter, Already

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