My Garden Labyrinth

There are many paths that enter into, or exit from our original Display Garden at Buchholz Nursery. The famous baseball legend Yogi Berra, noted for his humorous observations, once advised that “when you come to a fork in the road, take it.” I feel that way about my garden, and with others I admire, that the many forks amount to many decisions for the visitor, so that when one chooses a certain path, the pilgrim is also accompanied with a regret, or an agitation at least...until the other fork is eventually traversed. Even the act of reversing course on the same path becomes a new route due to a shift in perspective.

Reuben Hatch with Paeonia 'Joseph Rock'

Robert Frost

My best friend, the late Reuben Hatch, had visited the nursery a couple of hundred times I suppose, and the best possible compliment was bestowed a couple of years ago when he commented that with each visit he found something new and interesting. In that sense I took the poet Robert Frost's approach to take the road less traveled: to create and maintain an arboretum full of beauty and curiosity, with the nursery business – the capitalistic endeavor – subservient to the tree collection.

Rhodo. orbiculare 'Edinburgh' and Acer palmatum 'Purple Ghost' in the Display Garden

Rhododendron orbiculare 'Edinburgh'

Acer palmatum 'Purple Ghost'

A few days ago I walked from the office with the intention of writing up a pine candle-pruning list in the Lower Containers. I got diverted, lured into the Display Garden with the flowering of Rhododendron orbiculare 'Edinburgh', and the original tree of Acer palmatum 'Purple Ghost' in its background. With its fresh spring leaves the maple illuminated the garden, and though I have walked the same route a few thousand times before, at that particular moment I was drawn into the dream. The 'Purple Ghost' originated as a seedling from the mother tree of Acer palmatum 'Kasagi yama' sometime in the 1980s, then was planted into the garden in 1992. It was temporarily identified as 'Kasag DG 92', and in fact grafts were sold as such in the early years. Now, of course, I regret ever selling the tree with a code name, especially when one customer opined that he didn't want to order 'Purple Ghost' because he found 'Kasag DG 92' to be “far superior.” Since it was pointless to straighten him out, I concurred that 'Kasag DG 92' was "hard to beat."

Rhododendron orbiculare 'Exbury'

Rhododendron orbiculare 'Exbury'

We grow two forms of Rhododendron orbiculare in the Flora Wonder Arboretum – 'Exbury' and 'Edinburgh' – and though we single-quote them as if they were official cultivars, it's really just an indication of their source. Rhododendron species – as well as with all plants – vary in the wild. Plant hunters of yore were always keen to discover a new species, but certain collectors were particularly interested to find the best form of the species. The R. orbiculare from Exbury features deep pink campanulate blossoms, but I don't know when the 200 acre Rothschild estate acquired their start. Likewise, I don't know the origin of the 'Edinburgh' form, except that my source was the RHS Botanic Garden, Edinburgh, Scotland. The species itself was introduced by E.H. Wilson in 1904 from Sichuan, China. It was so-named by French botanist Joseph Decaisne due to its rounded, heart-shaped leaves (green above and glaucous beneath) which are held horizontally in spring and summer. Even with little care from the gardener, R. orbiculare forms a neat, dome-shaped bush, wonderful whether it is in bloom or not.

Rhododendron williamsianum

Rhododendron williamsianum

A green blob beneath the R. orbiculare is a young plant of Rhododendron williamsianum, which in a nutshell is a miniature version of R. orbiculare. It too was introduced by E.H. Wilson from Sichuan, China, but the difference being that Wilson discovered R. orbiculare while working for Veitch Nursery in England and the R. williamsianum while he labored under the auspices of the Arnold Arboretum in Boston, USA in 1908. My start came from the Rhododendron Species Botanical Garden in Federal Way, Washington, and it is described as “One of the finest, easiest and most attractive of all species.” The RSBG form is from the collection at Caerhays Castle in southern England, and the proprietor there was J.C. Williams (1861-1939) – hence the specific epithet – a passionate gardener who contributed greatly to the plant-hunting expeditions of George Forrest and others in the early 1900s.

Rhododendron williamsianum

A 2015 blog from the American Rhododendron Society, posted by Brenda Macdonald, sings the praises of R. williamsianum: “Its unique combination of almost orbicular, mid-green leaves, spreading and somewhat rounded or dome-shaped habit, and disproportionately large, candy-pink, campanulate flowers make it easy to recognize and well-adapted to gardens both large and small.” Wow – I'm impressed with her description which employs more commas and dashes than even I normally use. Ms. Macdonald follows that tribute with an interesting furtherance: “Its densely mounded shape often has a somewhat brooding appearance, a bit like having a very large toadstool in the garden...but its solid presence makes a good anchor to a plant grouping, and can provide an effective screen, if needed.” Absolutely I, and other gardeners, would propose that R. williamsianum makes an acceptable inclusion into a rock garden; however the RSBG created just that, but after 30-40 years of age the “miniatures” are now about 4' tall by 6' wide and they almost block the path through them. My solo specimen won't crowd anything in my lifetime, but probably some of my younger employees will grumble in the future about my unfathomable placements.

Acer palmatum 'Mikazuki' in the Display Garden

Acer palmatum 'Mikazuki' at Flora Farm

OK, now the “fork in the road” conundrum: Umm...let's take the left path after passing the aforementioned Rhododendron species and the 'Purple Ghost' maple, for a different color hue awaits us with a lovely wide-spreading specimen of Acer palmatum 'Mikazuki'. I used to lament that my Display Garden was devoid of adequate shade, that all plants in the garden (including the gardener himself) would benefit from PM shade, especially when our temperatures reach near to or above 100 F every summer. Now, however, the garden produces an abundance – or an indulgence – of shade, maybe even too much for best maple foliage color. 'Mikazuki' is pink in the crowded, shaded Display Garden, but a specimen in full sun at Flora Farm is more of a solid red at this time of year, plus the full-sun tree is at least twice the size at the same age.

Sciadopitys verticillata 'Gold Rush'

Sciadopitys verticillata 'Gold Rush' (middle)

In between the maples 'Purple Ghost' and 'Mikazuki' is a skinny “Umbrella pine” with yellow foliage. Sciadopitys verticillata 'Gold Rush' is the cultivar, but its narrow form and washed-out yellow-green foliage is the result of too much shade. Every time I pass it I'm urged to transplant the wimp, but I always walk away knowing it will never happen today, and before you know it, three or four years have passed. 'Gold Rush' is a catchy cultivar tag, but we already have other plants so-named: an Edgeworthia chrysantha, a Hosta and a Metasequoia glyptostroboides. The Sciadopitys 'Gold Rush' was selected from seedlings in 1991 at Wittboldt-Muller Nursery, Germany, where a group looked happy when I saw them ten years later. The cultivar is sometimes known as 'Golden Rush', but in any case it competes in appearance and sales with others such as 'Goldammer', 'Gold Star' and 'Ossorio Gold'. We had a 6' tall 'Gold Rush' growing in full sun in one of our irrigated gardens, and to my amazement the foliage withstood our 116 F heat dome three years ago without burn, who would have thought? The following spring, however, it looked a little off, and sure enough by the end of summer it was dead. We have never propagated the golden umbrellas from rooted cuttings, as we do with some of the green cultivars. Instead we root a green variety such as 'Wintergreen', then about two years later we use that as understock for grafting 'Gold Rush'.

Sciadopitys verticillata in Forest Grove, Oregon

I have been to Japan a number of times but I have never seen the Sciadopitys species in the wild, which I would like to accomplish in the near future. I don't have a far future. Actually the largest Umbrella pine I have ever seen is growing in Forest Grove (on Ash Street), Oregon, just five blocks away from where I grew up as a child. It was planted in 1910, according to a city arbor survey, but the history of where it came from is lost in time. Sadly it is planted* in front of a beater house, and hopefully the future property owners will realize they have a famous tree, maybe even the largest in Oregon, so don't go local and cut it down to make way for a new porch.

*…or, more likely, the tree's existence predated the beater house.

Rhododendron yuefengense

Rhododendron yuefengense

Rhododendron yuefengense

We're still wandering in the original Display Garden and now we discover a relatively new planting of Rhododendron yuefengense which looks like a hopped-up R. orbiculare. As with the others discussed in this blog, R. yuefengense is in the Subgenus Hymenanthes, subsection Fortunea, all with the rounded leaves. My source for the R. yuef. was the Rhododendron Species Botanical Garden and I consider my $16.00 pot an excellent investment. I only grow the very choicest of Rhododendron species and cultivars as I must be selective due to limited space. We propagate a few by grafting but finding good rootstock is not easy since most Rhodo producers pinch and prune their young starts to achieve a full body, but for us we just want a single straight stem, on a hardy disease-resistant rootstock.

Leucothoe keiskei

Leucothoe keiskei

Keisuke Ito

My Rhododendron yuefengense loves its place in the shade, as does a nearby Leucothoe keiskei. Both are incredible foliage plants, the former from Guangxi, China and the latter from Japan. Leucothoe is an ericaceous genus as is Rhododendron, and both genera thrive under the same cultural conditions. The genus name Leucothoe honors one of Apollo's lovers, while the specific epithet keiskei was named for the Japanese physician and botanist Keisuke Ito (1803-1901). As a doctor the venerable Ito developed a vaccine against small pox, but was equally accomplished as a botanist who studied the Japanese flora and fauna with Philipp von Siebold. Besides the Leucothoe we also grow Rhododendron keiskei, a dwarf, upright bush (var. keiskei) and the extremely prostrate ground-hugger (var. ozawae) which includes the garden gem 'Yaku Fairy'.

Stewartia x henryae 'Skyrocket'

Stewartia henryae

Stewartia henryae

On the same path, and also crammed in the shade is Stewartia x henryae 'Skyrocket'. The hybrid is a cross of S. monadelpha and S. pseudocamellia and is notable for great orange-to-red-to-purple fall color and a patchwork of tan and brown exfoliating bark on mature specimens. The hybrid x henryae was named for the Pennsylvania botanist Mrs. J. Norman Henry who first made the cross. 'Skyrocket', as you would suppose, lifts-off with a narrow, upright form. It originated from seed in 1959 at the Polly Hill Arboretum and in 1991 when it was over thirty years old it was 30' tall by 10' wide with a straight trunk and a vase shape. My specimen in the Display Garden is even more narrow as it stretches for the light.

Acer palmatum 'Shojo nomura'

Acer palmatum 'Shojo nomura'

Acer palmatum 'Shojo nomura'

The Stewartia x henryae receives its shade from a nearby Acer palmatum 'Shojo nomura', a forty-year-old specimen which I purchased from the late J.D. Vertrees of Maplewood Nursery. I remember being overwhelmed at that time with the multitude of red-upright Japanese maples that were simultaneously vying for commercial prominence. The debate was always, "Which is the best," meaning which cultivar would best hold its red foliage throughout the summer. Vertrees gave a nod towards 'Shojo nomura', though he stopped short of claiming it was "better" than 'Bloodgood', 'Moonfire' and some others more established in the trade. I think he was championing 'Shojo nomura' because it wasn't the best, but still pretty nice, and it was an old cultivar that should be honored, not dismissed. The Japanese name translates as "beautiful red-faced monkey" for reasons unknown to me, but then I've never seen such a creature.

Thuja plicata 'Filifera Nana'

Thuja plicata 'Whipcord'

Thuja plicata 'Whipcord'

Original Thuja plicata 'Whipcord' at Drake's Crossing Nursery

Somewhat out of place in this shady garden is an old specimen of Thuja plicata 'Filifera Nana', a dwarf thread-branch form of the "Western Red Cedar." The thread shoots are dark green and look luxurious from being in shade, but the beast will eventually outgrow its site. Oh well, we have a better, larger specimen in the Blue Forest which is about 8' tall by 25' wide in 40 years. Visitors assume it is the mother of all Thuja plicata 'Whipcord', a similar cultivar that has been in the trade for just a couple of decades. But not so; 'Whipcord' was found as a seedling at Drake's Crossing Nursery near Silverton, Oregon, and probably never should have been named since 'Filifera Nana' takes precedence by at least a century. Admittedly the cultivar 'Whipcord' is far more commercially named than the old Latin 'Filifera Nana', and we discontinued the latter because of that, but they are not synonymous as many conifer mongers assume. Actually the names are confusing because many cultivars in the Cupressaceae family feature thread-like foliage, and more-or-less look alike, such as Thuja occidentalis 'Filifera Nana', 'Thuja orientalis 'Filiformis Nana' and the similar 'Franky Boy', 'Chamaecyparis pisifera 'Filifera Nana' and probably others I can't think of now. Buchholz Nursery has propagated and sold many thousands of 'Whipcord', and nurseries larger than mine are also active in the fray, but in my entire career, I doubt if I have sold even a couple hundred of 'Filifera Nana'. The point is that a good plant name is extremely important for commercial success, while a poor name can doom a good plant forever.

Adiantum venustum

Adiantum venustum

I ventured into ferns about 15 years ago, figuring that since my company was renowned for maples and dwarf conifers, that a selection of hardy ferns would complement our product line. But what should have succeeded did not; it's pointless to question why…and I moved on to other plants.

Fern-time was fun-time for me personally though, and I don't regret making (spending) for the acquaintance with many wonderful species and cultivars. I incorporated a number of them into the landscape which I continue to appreciate, so all was not lost. Adiantum venustum is one of my favorites, a delicate-looking, low-spreading evergreen that's hardy to USDA zone 5, or -20 F. It is commonly called the "Himalayan maidenhair," and who wouldn't want such a soft creature creeping under maples and amongst your conifers? As Sue Olsen poetically describes it in The Plant Lover's Guide to Ferns: "The broadly triangular, tripinnate blades emerge in early spring with a flush of salmon-colored frothy feathers and are unaffected by late frosts." Frothy feathers indeed! I'll add that the thin black stems (stipes) provide a nice complement with the light yellow-green foliage. With Adiantum venustum and some other species, my foray into ferns has added a beautiful and educational chapter to my horticultural biography, though I'm still a novice with the ferns.

Metasequoia glyptostroboides 'Miss Grace'

Metasequoia glyptostroboides 'Miss Grace'

Hovering over the sweet maidenhair is one of the greatest introductions of recent times – Metasequoia glyptostroboides 'Miss Grace'. Our weeping "Dawn redwood" is one of four original grafts from a prostrate witch's broom discovered in New York state. It was staked in its early years, and now rises to 10' tall with an 8' base spread, and the stout trunk is nearly 12" in caliper at 26 years of age. Hillier describes it as "A small, elegant cultivar with a compact habit and weeping branches clothed with grey-green foliage that turns vibrant orange in autumn." If Hillier saw my hefty original he would probably revise his "small, elegant" description. My old specimen sits at the beginning (or end) of the path, depending on which way you go. Between the R. orbiculare 'Edinburgh'/Acer palmatum 'Purple Ghost' beginning…to the Metasequoia 'Miss Grace' finale, I could have taken quite a number of "forks in the road." In my mere acre-size labyrinth one could probably take a couple of million unique routes, back and forth, up and down, 'round and around, in and out, left-right-straight ahead etc. It's probably more statistically possible to win the lottery than to accomplish all of my garden path combinations but my jackpot of floral treasures is surely greater than a bagful of lottery cash.

So, what started out as a purposeful nursery project – pine candle-pruning – turned into an hour of wonderful wanderment, which is the main purpose of my tree collection anyway. A wiry Scotsman with reddish hair and a soiled kilt once described his visit in our Display Garden: "I meeandered with mee thoughts above mee head." Bonny right!