Frigidus

Ensete ventricosum 'Maurelii'

Damn it's cold! Now half-way through December, with darkness at both ends of the workday, I search for meaningful employ for a crew of fifteen, when everybody would rather be home, including me. Many of the plants in our “fun house,” in Greenhouse 20, are not particularly hardy, so of course that's the house that experienced heater failure last night. We'll see what becomes of that, but already the two Ensete ventricosum 'Maurelii' are mush...but...perhaps not dead. I had fun with the Abyssinian bananas, and frequently employed them for photographic purposes this past summer.

Ensete ventricosum 'Maurelii'

And just what is the proper scientific name of the red banana? San Marcos Growers of southern California – a company whose website I respect among the most in all of horticulture – lists it as Ensete ventricosum 'Maurelii', and claim that “the genus [sic] has been named in honor of J. Maurel who first drew the attention of the French authorities in Ethiopia to the red-leaved bananas of that place.” But whoa! – is San Marcos talking about a genus or a single-quote cultivar? Others (as in Plant Delights) list maurelii as a species, not as a genus or cultivar. I guess that's a moot question if they have indeed perished.

This blog will feature some of the plants that impressed me in GH20 this past year. Whether they survived or not, at least I have photographs of them in their splendor, memories in a digital format. After all, we can't take plants with us when we perish, and one should consider that we only rent a little time in this world anyway.

Leucothoe keiskei and Ito Keisuke

Leucothoe keiskei

Leucothoe keiskei appears to have survived and its purple color is actually enriched from the cold. I've had the low evergreen shrub for quite a few years, and used to grow it in the garden, but it never looked good. Keiskei prefers a woodland setting with shade (in Oregon) and moist but well-drained soil. The species is plenty hardy (to USDA zone 5) whether my heater works or not. The Leucothoe genus name is from Latin – with the same spelling – and was a legendary princess turned to a fragrant bush by Apollo. That's odd because Apollo was a Greek god, the son of Zeus and Leto. The species keiskei honors Ito Keisuke, a Japanese botanist who worked under Philipp von Siebold. He was the first from Japan to regard botany from a strictly scientific point of view, and later went on to develop a vaccine for smallpox.

Sarracenia x wrigleyana 'Scarlet Belle'

The Sarracenias (pitcher plants) got nipped, and x wrigleyana 'Scarlet Belle' is now brown belle. This hybrid was a result of crossing S. leucophylla with S. psittacina. The leucophylla species is hardy to USDA zone 6, even though it is native to Pinus palustris savannas along America's Gulf Cost. The psittacina species is native to the Southeast, often in submerged conditions, where it has been known to capture tadpoles and other water arthropods (such as insects, spiders and crustaceans). Though Sarracenias can hybridize in the wild, x 'Scarlet Belle' was an intentional cross, and from the group of seedlings the best was chosen to replicate via tissue culture. It is certainly a "doer," and my ten-year-old even grows 'Scarlet Belle' in her carnivorous plant collection. Harumi is rather disgusted by boys (she'll have you believe) and once said that “boys are like bugs; you just can't get rid of them.” To honor that statement, I purchased her first carnivorous plant for her birthday. I have grown fascinated by them too, especially since they bring my daughter such joy.

A serious problem at the nursery is the Oxalis corniculata weed, a “Creeping Wood sorrel” that is a dickens to get rid of – kind of like Harumi's boys. The creep can spread when its horizontal stems root at nodes, forming new plants. After flowering yellow, the weed produces capsules which contain tiny brown egg-shaped seeds. These explode and happily disseminate themselves around the nursery. It appears that once you have Oxalis corniculata in your nursery or garden, you will always have it. If we have a potted plant infested with it we generally throw it out, unless it is in the dormant season and we can bareroot and save the tree. But I have even bought bareroot trees from other growers, and by spring every one of them sprouted the purple-green weed around the tree's base. Nasty.

Oxalis bowiei

I was horrified however, that someone on my crew hauled out my one happy Oxalis bowiei from GH20, for the next day it would have been dumped. “Dump plants infested with Oxalis,” I always remind, but geeze not that one, not that species. Look, it even has a label that says Oxalis bowiei...and don't you remember the beautiful flowers it displayed just a month ago? The bowiei species is known as the “Cape Shamrock” since it is native to Cape Province in South Africa; but then there are over two hundred more Oxalis species native to that country. Its name honors James Bowie, a botanist who collected in South Africa for the Royal Gardens at Kew. When funds ran dry Kew dropped its support, and Bowie made trips into the interior to collect plants for sale. But ultimately the poor man died in poverty in 1869.

Oxalis oregana

Also, pleeze don't apply herbicide to my Oxalis oregana 'Big Pink' which is planted and labeled down by the creek. I collected that myself in the redwoods of California, but I'm not sure if it's really deserving of cultivar status. The Oxalis genus occurs throughout most of the world, especially Brazil and Mexico besides the two hundred from South Africa. They are commonly known as sorrels or wood sorrels, as they have an acidic taste, somewhat similar to the unrelated sorrel, Rumex acetosa. Oxalis has been consumed by humans around the world forever. Some American Indians used it to combat thirst on long trips, or cooked it with sugar to make a dessert, and the Cherokee ate it to cure a sore throat. Undeniably, its best use was by the Algonquin Tribe who used it as an aphrodisiac. Oxalis itself is from Greek oxus for “sour,” because of its sharp-tasting leaves, and als, the word for “salt.”

Camellia 'Waterlily'

Happy Haruko

A pot of Camellia resides in GH20, and I'm glad I didn't get around to planting it out this past fall. A lot of times borderline-hardy plants will survive a frigid winter, if they just get established a couple of years before the big freeze arrives. The exquisite cultivar 'Waterlily' was given to me a year ago by Roger of Gossler Farms, and it was  the first-ever Camellia to arrive at Buchholz Nursery. 'Waterlily' has a most feminine blossom, don't you think? Its pure beauty reminds me of my wife – to her dismay if she reads this; and thankfully she usually doesn't read my blogs.

Pseudopanax crassifolius

Pseudopanax crassifolius

"I will slash you"

A lot of times my one-and-only plant of a recent acquisition is tossed into GH20 because I don't know where else to put it. That would be the case with Pseudopanax crassifolius, the “Lancewood” from New Zealand, belonging to the Araliaceae family. This is a most strange plant, from lowland forest and scrub, because the juvenile form is very distinctive, featuring very long serrated leaves that my daughter is displaying as evil oriental fingernails – “I will slash you if you defy me!,” she seems to indicate. Anyway, calm down Harumi, for as the tree matures the juvenile foliage changes to a boring tree with more rounded leaves. Whenever a plant has several distinctive phases throughout its life, it is considered heteroblastic, and in fact Dr. Solander, on Captain Cook's voyage, named the plant Xerophylla longifolia for the juvenile tree, and Aralia crassifolius for the adult. I read that the “Lancewood” is dioecious, with male and female reproductive organs on separate trees, and I apparently have the female form, as you can see from an above photo. I plan to plant the berries from these umbells, but I don't know what to expect; but probably nothing, as who is pollinating what? Interestingly, the narrow juvenile leaves were once stripped down to the stringy midrib and used in New Zealand for shoelaces.

Panax is the botanic name for Ginseng, which means “all-heal” in Greek, and has the same origin as panacea. Linnaeus, you see, was aware that Panax was used in China as a muscle relaxant. I remember being transported to a Chinese “herbal shop” in the 1980's by Party functionaries with the assumption that we “wealthy capitalists” would certainly want to purchase their special root. But none of us had $40,000 to spare let alone $40 or $4. They had no answer to our question of who could possibly afford the pickled root sitting on the dusty shelf, even if it did indeed deliver miracles. This event was in the pre-Tiananmen days, when they were still trying to figure out how we running dog capitalists operated.

Nothopanax or Metapanax delavayi

Nothopanax or Metapanax delavayi

Speaking of Panax, GH20 also contains Nothopanax delavayi. I collected this Chinese shrub a dozen years ago, and apparently it is now being called Metapanax delavayi. Supposedly it is hardy to USDA zone 7, but I've never planted one out. White flowers appear in summer, though they're not particularly attractive, but now the plant is adorned with small black berries. Leaves are narrowly lobed and remind me of a green linearlobum maple. The species name honors Pere Delavay (1834-1895), the French missionary and botanist who sent over 200,000 herbarium specimens back to France from China.

Caesalpinia gilliesii

Strelitzea juncea

Caesalpinia gilliesii is a legumeous shrub which is commonly called “Bird of Paradise,” although it is not at all related to the Strelitzea genus, which is more commonly thought of as “Bird of Paradise.” Caesalpinia is native to tropical America and hopefully it will have survived the night of cold. It is attractive for its yellow flower with bright red filaments. The species honors the Scotsman John Gillies who explored and botanized in South America, sending many plants to Hooker* at Kew.

Betula ermanii (Hooker's collection)

Sir Joseph Dalton Hooker

*Ah, just who are the Hookers? William Jackson Hooker was an English botanist and illustrator, and was the Director of the Royal Botanic Gardens of Kew. He possessed an outstanding botanical mind with a scientific point of view, and authored many works such as Exotic Flora, British Flora, Genera Filicum (the Genera of Ferns), Museums of Economic Botany at Kew etc. etc...in other words: he was more observant and systematically organized than most of us. W.J. Hooker's son, Joseph Dalton Hooker, succeeded his father at Kew, and went on to greater fame and accomplishment. First of all, J.D. was a friend to , and provided encouragement for Charles Darwin and his evolutionary theories. He, J.D. Hooker, travelled to the Antarctic aboard the HMS Erebus, published an account of the Rhododendrons of Sikkim, the Handbook of the New Zealand Flora and a Journal of a Tour in Morocco and the Great Atlas. To top that off, his last botanical exploration was to the Rocky Mountains and California in 1877, which led to the publication of papers that indicated the relationship of plants from Asia and America. What a guy! – in spite of the horrible sideburns. My connection to Hooker was a visit to Westonbirt in England, to visit Hookers collection  of a Betula ermanii specimen. Then, just a day later, we were allowed to visit the garden of Prince Charles, just a few miles away. History barely exists in America when you compare it to that of the English.

Leucadendron argenteum

Leucadendron argenteum

In spite of the failed heater, Leucadendron argenteum, a six-foot specimen in a cedar box, appears to have survived. It is allegedly hardy to only 20-25 degrees F, but it certainly got colder – maybe to 10 degrees F. The “Silver Tree” (family Proteaceae) is an endangered species from a small area in South Africa. I have seen handsome specimens in San Francisco's Strybing Arboretum and at the Santa Cruz Arboretum in California. The soft leaves remain on the tree for several years, and they are covered with silver hairs that shimmer in sunlight. Photographs don't do justice to the phenomenal species, so I hope I don't lose my one and only tree.

Crinum bulbispermum

Crinum moorei 'Variegata'

Crinum x powellii

Crinum 'White Queen'

I was beginning a collection of Crinum species and cultivars, all sitting in pots in GH20. Many would be hardy outside in the garden – they say – but I've always been chicken to plant them out. The species bulbispermum is probably the most hardy of the 130 or so species, to USDA zone 6, so many hybrids feature that as a parent. Crinum moorei is second in hardiness, but I suspect that our variegated cultivar would be less hardy than the type. Nature's freaks are usually less reliable. Crinum are in the Amaryllidaceae family and come from tropical and subtropical areas of America, Asia and South Africa. The Crinum name was established by Linnaeus, as he was working with Crinum americanum. This species features long trailing white petals, suggestive of comet tails. Thus Crinum is derived from Greek Krinos for “comet tail.” The word comet is from Latin cometa, from Greek komētēs for “long-haired star,” originally from Greek komē for “hair.”

Greenhouse 20 is the favorite place for many visitors to Buchholz Nursery. I once employed a simpleton who frequently would skip the GH20 experience with customers because, as he said, “Naaa, there's nothing in there.” The fact is that his brain couldn't process the wonderful diversity contained therein, as he thought the nursery should exist entirely of dwarf conifers and Japanese maples. What a shame; and I ultimately kept my diversity and edited him from the scene. What follows is more proof that I made the right decision.

Kniphofia rooperi

Gladiolus dalenii 'Bolivian Peach'

Daphne genkwa 'Hackenberry Group'

Rhododendron sinogrande

Rhododendron 'Coastal Spice'

Rhododendron 'Coastal Spice'

Passiflora caerulea

Platycarya strobilacea

Eucryphia lucida 'Ballerina'

Lamium orvala 'Silva'

Luma apiculata 'Glanleam Gold'

Pieris japonica 'Katsura'

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"Yes, Talon, the diversity of GH20 is wonderful. Sorry it got so cold last night. My specialty is plants, and I have nothing to do with your failed heater."

Shedding Light on the Obscure

Today we'll examine some obscure* tree species, perhaps some that you know little or nothing about. Don't groan and decide that you'll be bored, for all the trees I will feature display ornamental characteristics. Maybe your largest challenge is to learn how to pronounce them, then try to remember the names a day or two later. I guarantee that if you allow these species into your floral world, whether by planting, or via armchair gardening, you will receive your reward.

*The word obscure originated in Middle English between 1350 and 1400 and was derived from Old French oscur or obscur, and that derived from Latin obscurus for "dark."

Euptelea pleiosperma

Euptelea polyandra

Euptelea pleiosperma, from the eastern Himalaya and western China, was introduced over one hundred years ago, but I challenge you to find even one in an American landscape or public park. It is a small, often multi-trunked tree or large bush with attractive copper-red new growth. Reddish flowers are "witch hazel"-like and appear in clusters along the leafless branches, and consist of anthered stamens. In autumn the green leaves change to yellow and red. The Greek-derived species name pleio refers to "full of" or "many," and sperma is Late Latin, from Greek speirein, meaning "to sow," and the flowers are wind pollinated. The genetic name Euptelea is derived from Greek eu for "well" or "handsome" and ptelea for the appearance of the fruits resembling an "elm." I have a couple in my landscape and only wish I could acquire the second species of the genus, polyandra, which is said to be prettier in the fall landscape, and is native to Japan.

Sorbus commixta

Sorbus commixta

Sorbus alnifolia

Sorbus alnifolia

I am not really a grower of Sorbus, the ashes or "Rowans," but I saw species commixta, a Japanese tree with incredible fall color about twelve years ago at Kew Gardens in London. Since then I have seen it in other European gardens, but for unknown reasons it is still rare in American landscapes. And two years ago I encountered Sorbus alnifolia (alder-leaf) in Belgium at Arboretum Wespelaar. I had never even seen alnifolia before, and subsequent research indicated it too was from Japan. My Wespelaar visit corresponded with sunny weather in October, to a sophisticated collection renowned for maples, Stewartia, oaks etc. Leaves of alnifolia were mostly gone and the multitude of tiny pink berries sparkled like jewels in the afternoon light. This visit was in conjunction with the International Maple Society Symposium, and when all individual attendees regrouped to the visitor center, everyone asked everyone: "Did you see the Sorbus alnifolia?" Later on I discovered that the pink berries would eventually evolve to bright red, but what a dainty little tree! I resolved to acquire alnifolia, and I now even have some for sale at an affordable price.

Sorbus americana

I'll mention one final species of Sorbus that I encountered recently on the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina, Sorbus americana. This species occurred at elevations of four-to-five thousand feet. The trees were small and scrappy, very unornamental in form, but the crop of bright red berries was outstanding. We (my companion Phil and I) collected some seed, which may not have been legal, but what could we do? The trees were leafless at the end of October, and the occasional times when the sun poured through the swirling clouds and gleamed light upon the berries, Phil and I would ooh and aah with amazement. I hope that not too many of the seeds will germinate, as I don't expect any profit from the collection, but it would be fun to have one in the Flora Wonder Arboretum, assuming that it would prosper in my low-elevation climate.

Acer micranthum

Acer micranthum

Acer micranthum is also a tree that is rare in American landscapes, but most undeservedly so. Its name is due to small-sized flowers and the resultant seeds are tiny as well. Acer micranthum also originates from Japan, and was introduced into Europe around 1880, and I feel that any serious Japanese maple collection should contain at least one. The species is at least as hardy as palmatum, and is of smaller stature than many palmatum cultivars. We have propagated micranthum by rooted cuttings under mist in summer, or by grafting onto stripe-bark species such as Acer davidii or Acer tegmentosum. I remember seeing micranthum at Westonbirt in England about ten years ago, on a tour led by Peter Gregory. He introduced us to a nice specimen, and seemed very delighted to show it off, especially the dangling clusters of small pink seed. I know of no cultivars of Acer micranthum except for 'Candelabrum', which originated at Hillier's Arboretum, and is larger than the type due to the likelihood that it is a hybrid.

Acer nipponicum

Acer nipponicum

Acer nipponicum is another obscure maple species from Japan, one I don't see used in America, although the better collections in Europe will have it. The species name is from Nipponicus, from "Nippon," an old name for Japan. Today someone from Japan is referred to as "nihonjin," and any reference to "nip" or "Nippon" is considered derogatory. I like the substantial olive-green leaves with their rugose texture, but they can look ragged after a 100 degree F August day in Oregon (with no humidity). In Japan it is native to the islands of Honshu, Shikoku and Kyushu in mountain forests where it gets plenty humid. I have grown a specimen for twelve years, but it still has not produced seed. Also I have wasted time trying to propagate nipponicum via rooted cuttings; my efforts yielded 100%...dead. I even tried grafting onto Acer pseudoplatanus and other species, with the same result. Some years nipponicum foliage turns to yellow in autumn, in others it can go from green to brown.

Berberis temolaica

Berberis temolaica should not be dismissed as, "Shit, another thorny barberry," a plant that no prudent gardener would dare attempt. I received my start from a friend, plantsman R. Hatch, a holic who has foisted many unwise species upon me, though I too have afflicted many upon him. Temolaica is not such a plant, however. From dry-land Tibet, it is a vicious bitch to handle, but the soft blue-green new growth in spring changes to powder-blue by summer. This species was introduced by Frank Kingdon-Ward (of great Rhododendron fame) in 1924. I had a nice plant in the Short Road – eight feet tall by three feet wide in ten years – but I sold it to a high-bidder for good profit. But yikes, my temolaica offspring perished in an unheated greenhouse a few years later, and even though the species is listed as hardy to USDA zone 5, I lost the lot. Friend Roger Gossler, who probably got his stock from me...bailed me out a year ago, so now I grow it again. Generosity – which Gossler excels at – often leads to self-preservation, and I suggest that a visit to www.gosslerfarms.com would lead you to many wonderful plants from his mail-order nursery. Please revisit my Gossler Farms tour from 4/12/13, but of course finish this blog first. I also encourage you to purchase Gossler's book, Best Hardy Shrubs, which relates his personal encounters with outstanding trees and shrubs.

Stewartia koreana

Stewartia koreana

So now is a good time to introduce Stewartia koreana, a seldom-encountered species that rivals any in the exquisite genus. From Korea, of course, it is a small-to-medium size tree with superb colorful bark. E.H. Wilson introduced this wonderful tree in 1917, and it is similar to species pseudocamellia except for wider, more spreading petals on the flowers. And, the trunk of koreana exceeds pseudocamellia for beauty. I have grown Stewartia koreana for fifteen or so years, but never kept one around long enough to really appreciate the bark. About three years ago I visited Gossler Farms and witnessed brother Eric's garden with a mature specimen, and I was ponderously amazed by the trunk. Also, autumn color is as fantastic as on any deciduous tree. What a joy to have this wealthy Gossler garden within a do-able three-hour drive away.

Catalpa bignonioides 'Nana'

Catalpa bignonioides is the "Indian Bean Tree," a mid-sized eastern American native that flowers in late summer. There exists a golden form – 'Aureum' – and 'Variegata' with creamy-white-variegated leaves, but I only grow the cultivar 'Nana', which forms a small rounded bush. It is a most luxuriant tree with delicious green leaves, and my only cause for concern is that big wet leaves in a summer wind storm can lead to broken branches.

Note  that this "Indian Bean" refers to American natives and not to their Asian relatives. The origin of the name Catalpa is possibly from a Creek (Indian) word katalpa, or is maybe from catawba, where the botanist (Scopoli) incorrectly transcribed the name. You can easily go beyond any of the speculative etymology and just consider C. b. 'Nana' to be a wonderful little tree; certainly one that your neighbors will never grow, but a form that can proudly adorn your garden.

Juniperus coxii

Juniperus coxii in shade

Juniperus coxii from Flora Wonder Arboretum

One of the most graceful of any specimen in the Flora Wonder collection is Juniperus coxii, the "Himalayan Drooping Juniper." It is a conifer that seldom appears on our plant availability because of difficulty in propagation and slow rate of growth, and it can take up to a dozen years before you have anything that looks good. It is popular in the better arboreta of Britain, and most likely the fantastic specimens there were propagated by seed. Originally coxii was collected in northern Burma by E.H.M. Cox and Reginald Farner in 1920. It was once considered a variety of Juniperus recurva and indeed Hillier's Manual of Trees and Shrubs, Fifth Edition, still lists it that way. Debreczy and Racz in Conifers Around the World (2011) report that "recent molecular studies" support coxii's treatment at species rank. In any case the typical recurva shows little horticultural merit, while coxii displays longer and more pendulous branches. Besides the beauty of the jade-green foliage, older specimens feature exfoliating gray-brown trunks, although I have seen a specimen with reddish-brown and less exfoliation, for it was growing in considerable shade. In its native range coxii occurs in upper coniferous zones and is hardy to USDA zone 7, possibly 6.

Juniperus rigida 'Pendula'

Juniperus cedrus

Juniperus pingii

Another outstanding species is Juniperus rigida. We received our start twenty five years ago as rigida 'Pendula', but I'm not positive whether the lax growth habit of the species was inappropriately constituted as a cultivar name, or whether 'Pendula' really is a distinct selection. The species comes from Japan, Korean and northern China, and was introduced into England by J.G. Veitch in 1861. Like Juniperus coxii, rigida is an elegant weeping tree with green foliage and exfoliating bark. Juniperus rigida is commonly known as the "Temple Juniper," while coxii is called the "Coffin Juniper" (for obvious reasons). These two species – along with my favorite juniper of all, Juniperus cedrus (USDA zone 7) – are proof enough that the genus contains some species that are most ornamental, as much as any of the coniferous trees. And I'll add Juniperus pingii onto that list as well.

Picea breweriana

Another "weeping" conifer, Picea breweriana, is of great beauty and I've been interested in it for my entire career. The Hoyt Arboretum in Portland Oregon houses a collection of fifteen or so, planted on a hillside where you can look down at them. They must be nearing fifty years of age, and even non-horticulturalists must be impressed by them. At first the species was considered rare (when it was introduced in 1891), but numerous populations have since been discovered, and I have seen many of them myself.

A mature Picea breweriana with Mt. Shasta

I vividly remember a solo "Brewer's Spruce Trip" I took in southwest Oregon and northern California, where a local Forest Ranger provided me with maps and patted me on the back and wished me well on my noble sojourn. The poor green-shirted bureaucrat acted like he wanted to come along with me, but I usually prefer to go alone...in case I want to do something illegal along the way. But the meeting was memorable because it was the only time in my life that a governmental employee had ever considered me worthy of concern and attempted to further my cause. My solo trip was a success, highlighted by a photo of a mature breweriana with Mt. Shasta in the background.

Picea breweriana

When I began the nursery over thirty years ago, I was able to purchase twenty-year-old Picea breweriana seedlings that were eight-to-ten feet tall for $15 apiece. I lined out about thirty of them, and they sat in my field for a few years, never looking very happy. Finally one year we had an unusually wet spring and they died or looked bad enough for me to cut down. All of the other species of Picea in the same field looked great, and I learned that if I wanted to grow breweriana at my nursery, I would have to graft them onto a better rootstock, such as Picea abies. But I've seen wonderful mature specimens in botanic gardens in England and Scotland and wonder how they make it, since most botanic gardens are too snooty to have a "created species" (tops different than the roots) in their collection. In Manual of Trees and Shrubs Hillier writes of breweriana that it is "perhaps the most beautiful of all spruces and one of the most popular of all ornamental conifers." What does Hillier mean by "popular?" No one in England – outside of botanic gardens – grows the species. I think that old Hillier and his plant friends were enthusiastic about breweriana, but that it remains rare in English landscapes. I invite any bona fide Englishman to correct me if I'm wrong.

All plants featured in this blog are worthy of growing, as I said at the beginning. But I would be bankrupt if I depended on you to buy them from me. So, from time to time I go out and visit mine, and leave you your preferences. But thanks for what you do buy.