Flora Wonder Blog: Buchholz Plant Introductions (Part 11)

In the previous blog I mentioned that I sometimes groan at the cultivar names that I have bestowed on some of my plant introductions. But whether or not I regret the names later, it's too late if I have either sold a plant or given it away. Of course, one doesn't have to be stuck with the name, but to be nomenclaturally decent it's not Hoyle to waffle...which is why I sometimes wince at what I originally came up with.

Acer palmatum 'Midori no teiboku'

As an example, I coined the name Acer palmatum 'Midori no teiboku' for a maple in about 1999. Midori means “green” in Japanese, no means “of” and teiboku means “low shrub.”* I'll repeat from a previous blog how the name developed:

The late Dr. Corbin of Portland, Oregon was a dear friend and an avid maple collector. He grew a laceleaf with green foliage and a low, dense habit; the mother tree was Acer palmatum 'Viridis'. I thought the seedling had ornamental merit, so I propagated it and temporarily named it 'V. Corbin'. A number of customers liked the plant also, and many left my nursery with that code-name. It even made it into the Vertrees-Gregory book, Japanese Maples, third edition. That was too bad, for earlier I gave it an "official" name, 'Midori no teiboku'. In the fourth edition Gregory made the correct update, but it helped me to realize that I should never sell or give away any plant without a final, lasting name. Also, it is ok – and often beneficial – to name a plant early, even if it is largely untried and unproven, without a decade or more of in-house observation, because the marketplace will then determine the worthiness of your named plant. By the way 'Midori no teiboku' is a lousy name too. I had four Japanese interns at the time, and I asked them how one should say "green, low and spreading" in Japanese. "Ooo, ahh," they conferred for fifteen minutes, and just as I was about to tell them to forget it, by a strained consensus they came up with 'Midori no teiboku'. A few years later, my Japanese wife said that technically the name was sound, but that nobody would say it that way. But, too late.

*The Japanese word taiboku means “giant tree,” chuboku means “medium tree” and teiboku means “low shrub,” so 'Midori no teiboku' means “green, low-spreading shrub.”

Acer palmatum 'Mikazuki'

Another name I now sort-of regret was given to Acer palmatum 'Mikazuki'. It's a wonderfully awesome cultivar and we have sold a couple thousand of them since its introduction in about 2006. The Japanese word “mikazuki” is in reference to the sickle-shaped middle leaf-lobe that I observed while I was evaluating the original seedling. However, while subsequent propagules display a slight crescent-shape, it's not enough to have prompted the name because grafts show less of that feature. 'Mikazuki' is a pleasant-sounding word to me, but that minor lobe curvature doesn't really justify its use as cultivar distinguishment. In that same regard, I have dismissed many botanists of yore who coined generic or specific epithets for relatively insignificant botanical characteristics, when I supposed they could have been more aptly descriptive, or certainly more creative. One example would be the Japanese maple Acer argutum, which means “sharp-toothed,” and that's kind-of redundant since the generic name Acer* itself is thought to be derived from the prehistoric Proto-Indo-European root ak for “sharp” since many species feature sharply-pointed leaf-lobes.

*However, the etymology is not conclusive, and there are other theories as to the origin of the word “Acer.”

Acer palmatum 'Tiny Stars'

At first, I thought that I gave Acer palmatum 'Tiny Stars' a catchy and appropriate name, but that was because I named the original seedling when I decided to propagate it, and indeed its leaves were attractively small and dainty and I thought they resembled a night-sky full of stars. But not so fast, my friends, because subsequent grafts pushed the “cultivar” into developing much larger leaves, so the name now seems questionable. Still, it is an interesting selection and worthy, I think, of introduction.

Acer palmatum 'Tiny Stars'

The mother tree that produced the A.p. 'Tiny Stars' seedling is unknown, and that's because I went through a period of frustration, where for a couple of years I continued to germinate seed from named cultivars, but I gave up on keeping track of the mother tree. The crew had trouble understanding that 'Seedling from Amber Ghost' or 'EX Amber Ghost' is not the same as 'Amber Ghost' itself. I simplified the process and made life easier to not be encumbered with the mother tree's name. After all, I judge a man by the quality of his character, and a woman by her looks, but who needs to know anything about their mother? I know – an inappropriate comment. For what it's worth though, I'm now back to keeping track of the mother tree's name because I think it better advances horticultural history and rather than taking the more casual, easier approach, I choose to work harder to keep the record straight. I regret the lapse.

Acer palmatum 'Green Twinkle'

Our journey takes us from Acer palmatum 'Tiny Stars' to Acer palmatum 'Green Twinkle' and the latter is more aptly named. It features tiny green leaves with five serrated lobes. New growth is yellow-green which contrasts nicely with the older foliage. The canopy is dense and round with a very neat appearance. It originated from seed germinated in 2008, but again the parentage is unknown. For me the cultivar is always happily growing and it produces numerous wispy shoots that arch downward. Unfortunately that production does not make for good scionwood and so my inventory is kept too low. I miss the days when we propagated some maple cultivars by rooted cuttings under summer mist, such as A.p. 'Orange Dream' and A.p. 'Goshiki kotohime', and our rooting percentages were pretty good. A.p. 'Green Twinkle' just looks like a maple that would root, is all I'm saying. The green leaves of spring and summer explode to autumn red and purple, like maybe a supernova explosion.

Acer palmatum 'Nebula'

Another spacey introduction occurred in about 2008 with Acer palmatum 'Nebula', a seedling whose parentage I can't absolutely verify, but I suspect that A.p. 'Amber Ghost' was the mother tree. The new foliage throbs with unusual color patterns, and I guess one spring I felt that it resembled some fantastic photos of nebulae that we see on TV or the internet during outer-space science programs, hence the name. Tomorrow, employee David will climb the ladder and harvest the one-year stub shoots that poke out from our 20-inch square box stock plants, and I hope that he will procure at least 200 scions from the group. Anything that's three-steps or above on the ladder I have decided to leave to a younger, more balanced employee, and David always returns promptly with his accomplished smile and a bag full of scions. Thank goodness.

Acer palmatum 'Starry Skies'

Continuing with “celestial” introductions, I cut 46 scions today of Acer palmatum 'Starry Skies', all coming from one 6-gallon pot. It's my first attempt to propagate the new selection, so, as of yet it is not an “introduction” since no propagation has succeeded, nor any offspring sold. It is merely a hopeful attempt to promote a colorful seedling, but time will tell if the effort is worthwhile...but better to have a few propagules to test before the original is either sold, or dies or is planted out in the landscape. I have raised a number of these flashy dazzlers as seedlings, but I concede that most don't hold up outside of their coddled greenhouse confines. It's the effort, the trial that defines Buchholz Nursery, while it seems to be mostly luck if a selection actually succeeds. The record will show that we have found a few winners, and that a career has made.

Acer shirasawanum 'Sonya Marie'

A long-shot experiment with Acer shirasawanum 'Sonya Marie' – yes, named for my eldest daughter – didn't perform as hoped. A twig of Acer shirasawanum 'Aureum' developed cream-white variegation, but it burned with our first, 90F day in June. So imagine that if A.s. 'Aureum' can burn in full sun, there would be nothing to sustain the white portion at all. I grafted a few shoots and my result was 100%...dead that is. The original tree of 'Sonya Marie' was planted at Flora Farm with hopes that it might rejuvenate itself and its variegation in the ground. Ten years later it looks like any A.s. 'Aureum' with totally yellow leaves. So, no introduction there either.

Acer shirasawanum 'Yellow Canary'

Acer shirasawanum 'Yellow Canary' is a new selection that was germinated in about 2016, with the original arising in a flat of Acer palmatum seedlings, the parent tree (or trees) unknown. It stood out like a lucky thumb with its cheerful sun-like orbs which are smaller and more dainty, but equally as gold, as A.s. 'Aureum'. Maybe I should have named it 'Gold Thumber'. 'Yellow Canary' doesn't appear to have any Acer palmatum influence at all, so one wonders if a mouse or squirrel or a human jokester transplanted the seed, except that we didn't sow from any A. shirasawanum cultivars that year. Actually I think there's a lot of promiscuity that occurs at Buchholz Nursery in the after hours, and in the night you never know whom is cavorting with whom. I know, for example, that the Pleione genus contains hybrid species, but we never propagate from seed. We do propagate by harvesting and transplanting pseudobulbs, and though we are very meticulous with our labelling, sometimes a few rogue bulbs will appear with others very different. Anyone who raises Pleiones can attest that mix-ups are common, as if the frisky pseudobulbs pop off at night and seek companionship with other species or cultivars. I originally scoffed at the notion, and dismissed it as sloppy horticulture, and that kind of lazy business would never happen at Buchholz Nursery. But it does happen, too frequently.

Acer palmatum 'Autumn Glow'

Cultivar plant namers are apt to attach a seasonal identity to their introductions, hence we have Cornus kousa 'Summer Fun', Acer palmatum 'Autumn Glow' and Acer palmatum 'Spring Surprise', all three chosen by me, while my winter season is covered with Chamaecyparis obtusa 'Snow Blast'. 'Summer Fun' was discussed in Buchholz Introductions (Part 3) and 'Snow Blast' (ultimately a failure) was mentioned in (Part 8). We didn't do much with A.p 'Autumn Glow' either because it's basically a green upright with a reddish blush in spring, so even in April it looks poised to color-up with an autumnal hue. It originated as a seedling in the landscape of plant breeder Dan Heims early in the 1980s, but the mother tree was never determined. I don't remember if he gave me the original seedling or just scions from it – after all that was 40 years ago, but grafts were first sold in about 1990.

Acer palmatum 'Ruby Ridge'

Acer palmatum 'Ruby Ridge' was another Dan Heims' garden seedling, again with unknown parentage. It entered commerce at the same time as A.p. 'Autumn Glow' and was initially named 'Crumpled-Leaf Heims' – you know, just a temporary name employed when I decided to propagate, but probably some left the nursery so-named. I asked Dan to give me an official cultivar name and he came up with 'Ruby Ridge'. Well, it was his maple, so thus it was. In the Vertrees/Gregory Japanese Maples (4^th edition) it is claimed that “this cultivar has possibly the darkest red foliage of any Japanese maple.” I would agree with that, except that the deep color doesn't last very long, and by June it begins to develop some green tones. It is a stout, broad-canopied upright tree, usually with thick, short new shoots, and it looks attractive from a distance, but upon close inspection you would describe the leaves as “peculiar” to be polite. Maple collectors embrace any cultivar that is different, so 'Ruby Ridge' does have its limited market, but no one will suggest that the foliage is attractive. The cultivar is reminiscent of A.p. 'Rugose' with its rough leaf surface, except that 'Rugose' is green and faster growing. As with 'Ruby Ridge', Peter Gregory describes 'Rugose' as an “ugly duckling in summer,” but that it redeems itself into “an almost beautiful princess in the fall.” But of course: even the worst of maple cultivars can look amazing in fall. Anyway, you can choose the green or the red, but my customer base usually prefers red over the green.

Acer palmatum 'Spring Surprise'

Acer palmatum 'Spring Surprise' was a deliciously variegated seedling that germinated in about 2000, and the fresh green leaves were marked with various patterns of cream-yellow. I use the past-tense when describing it, as it is no longer in production; the tree was so vigorous that it bolted out of its variegation, and it was pointless to propagate purely green shoots. When it was young and in its prime it was very showy, and on one early visit by French maple expert, Guy Maillot, he voted it as his favorite of all the hundreds of interesting maple seedlings that I showed him. I don't know if he received any scionwood from 'Spring Surprise', or if anyone else still grows the selection. Buchholz Nursery isn't exactly the ideal growing environment for variegated plants because of our aggressive production regimen, and we've ruined a large number of interesting variegated selections with uber-horticulture. The original seedling is planted at Flora Farm, another attempt to tame and stress the tree in hopes to preserve the variegation, but after 15 years in the ground it remains totally green...except for the brilliant red flash for a couple of weeks in autumn.

Acer palmatum 'Crimson Carole'

Early in my career I was approached by a California customer – a hobby collector actually – if I would custom propagate a couple of his Acer palmatum seedling selections. I was young and accommodating back then, eager for any kind of business. He wanted only 4 or 5 of each, so I instructed him to send 10 scions of each. He did, and every one of the grafts “took,” but he didn't want to buy the extras. One he called 'Bob's Big Green', and even Bob dismissed it himself as nothing really unusual. Well, the grafts I kept did grow big and green, but after a couple of years in production I took the hint from my other customers that I didn't need to continue with it. 'Crimson Carol' was the other seedling and it garnered more attention, but it was never an overwhelming introduction either. A few years later Bob noticed that I was listing it in my sales catalog, but pleaded with me to spell his wife Carole's name correctly. Duly chastised I made the correction, but I'm sure some left the nursery with the rong spelling. I blame Bob's big fat fingers for the error because I could barely read his label. In any case sales were also weak for wife C's maple, which I would describe as an OK introduction, but certainly not a great one, and I don't grow it at all anymore. I've had numerous custom propagation requests throughout my career, most of which turned out to be duds, but one never knows unless you try. From that point of view I regard the attempts as less than solid business ventures and more like life adventures.

Metasequoia glyptostroboides 'Golden Dawn' Original Tree

Metasequoia glyptostroboides 'Golden Dawn'

Metasequoia glyptostroboides 'Golden Dawn' at Bartlett Tree Experts, North Carolina

A similar situation occurred with a “Dawn redwood,” as I was approached by a Maryland hobbyist, Ken Murray, who had discovered a dwarf, golden Metasequoia. He named his seedling 'Golden Dawn' – a great name I thought – and its promise intrigued me as well. Mr. Murray went to the trouble (and expense) to patent the find, and as he explained: “not to get rich, but just to experience the process.” He contacted me, although I don't remember how he got my name, but I think mine was the company that actually “introduced” it. 'Golden Dawn' performed admirably well in the greenhouse except that it wasn't so dwarf after all, not with vigorous green rootstock pushing it. I planted a row in the field at Flora Farm but unfortunately they burned terribly, and that report surprised Mr. Murray, for his original plant never had a problem in humid East-coast summers. I discontinued it nevertheless, after I had sold a number of grafts before, but besides the scorch issue I grew weary of keeping track of the patent payments. The patent situation may have been “fun” for Mr. Murray, but it gives the businessman another matter to keep track of, where my office employees already think they have too much on their plates. It was about 2010 that I gave up on 'Golden Dawn' completely and I don't have the introduction anymore. I largely forgot about my involvement, just another waste of time and money...until the autumn of 2022 when I was touring the Bartlett Arboretum in Charlotte, North Carolina – the new owner of Flora Farm – and I was astonished to find a 'Golden Dawn' displaying strong vigor without any foliage burn. Their success, of course, is due to the Southeast's humidity. I personally wilt in the muggy heat, but the Metasequoias love it, and the (fairly young) Bartlett specimen was magnificent and larger than any I ever grew. I might request some scions and have another try with it, but I don't know: there's still the damn patent issue.

I ponder what I wrote earlier, where I contrast a business venture with a life adventure. I'm fortunate that both have been positive for me, but neither of them perfect.

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Friday, September 15, 2023

Buchholz Plant Introductions (Part 11)

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