North Carolina 2024, Day 3

Yesterday, Day 2 of our Western North Carolina visit was pleasantly warm, and thankfully not stifling hot, so Haruko and I casually assumed that the following morning we would experience more of the same. We had a big day ahead, beginning with the drive from Asheville to East Flat Rock to the site of another MrMaple Open House, where hundreds of their customers are allowed to roam through greenhouses and pull out plants to purchase. Of course I cheer for the success of the new parent company of Buchholz Nursery, as the more money they can rake in on these mega-maple events, the more they can spend to return Buchholz to its former glory years, with new technology, improved management, and, especially intriguing for me: an infusion of new Acer species and cultivars.

Haruko's Pastry Dream

I awoke pre-dawn on Day 3, on Monday (Memorial Day), anxious to experience Maple Fever, North Carolina style. My first task was to awaken Haruko, which I learned long ago to accomplish by lightly pulling her pillow every few minutes or so…helping her to emerge from her Old European Pastry dreams and from yesterday's other indulgences. Finally she stirred and I opened the heavy drapes. Uhh-Oh, I discovered that my planned "Good Morning Sunshine" greeting was drowned by a howling hurricane outside our hotel cocoon. Rain was pelting sideways, blowing from this direction one minute, then from the opposite the next. A serious storm; we wondered if the MrMaple event would take place at all. Right? Maybe I wouldn't have to give my Buchholz Maple Introductions speech after all.

Despite the weather we encountered a long string of cars parked along the county road near the nursery. Some Maple Maniacs came dressed with serious rain gear and umbrellas, but many chose the au natural style in tee-shirts and shorts and wearing flip-flops. Picture a pretty Carolina girl, thoroughly soaked and with a smudge of dirt on her forehead, but joyously walking to the checkout table with two new trees for her collection. Carolina? – maybe she came from further afield, since the entire southeast region, and all the way from Texas, makes the trip to a MrMaple sale.

Cercis canadensis 'Flame Thrower'

Cercis canadensis 'Carolina Sweetheart'

Cercis canadensis 'Carolina Sweetheart'

Cercis canadensis 'Carolina Sweetheart'

Acer palmatum 'Sister Ghost'

Co-owner Tim Nichols greeted us at arrival and we were assured that the event was still on, but he lamented that the crowd was drastically reduced due to the rains and wind. Indeed, the MrMaple employees and customers grabbed canvas to keep the kiosks anchored lest they blow over the Appalachia and into Tennessee. Even when standing 6' inside any greenhouse, you would still be drenched from the sideways rain, yet the shoppers kept pouring – pun intended – in to seek must-have treasures. Two cultivars of "red bud," Cercis canadensis 'Flame Thrower' and 'Carolina Sweetheart' rivaled the maples for incredible spring foliage, and it appeared that the well-stocked supply of 300-or-so of each would soon be depleted. Whenever I saw a shopper with a Buchholz introduction I would make a big deal about their excellent choice, which was fun because they had no idea who I was.

Another purpose of our Carolina visit was to meet the crew that grows and ships thousands of maples each year, to witness how this relatively small company is able to match product with customers from every state in America. The key to company success is to foster a happy, cooperative environment within the employee ranks, but that is not always so simple to accomplish, even though the goal is obvious, and with owners well-intentioned. Still, we witnessed dozens of yellow-coated MrMaple workers assist the customers with enthusiasm, and the Open House event was only possible because they sacrificed their Memorial Day holiday to deal with the extravaganza.

Norman and Evelyn Nichols, Talon, Tim, Matt

In addition to the industrious employees, Haruko and I were able to meet other members of the extended Nichols clan, like Matt's three children, Tim's wife Carla, a slew of cousins or nieces – I couldn't figure out who they all were – and finally Mother Evelyn Nichols, the matriarch whose positive energy explains the spark that originally fired up her two Maple Sons.

Acer palmatum 'Green Strap'

I was also anxious to see some of the newer maple acquisitions that haven't yet made their way out to Oregon, or if a few have been sent to Buchholz they are not at present in production. An impressive newcomer is Acer palmatum 'Green Strap', a small bushy form – though vigorous – with narrow green lobes, perhaps like a dwarf version of the old A.p. 'Scolopendrifolium'. 'Green Strap' actually originated in Oregon at Ballard Nursery, less than 10 minutes from Buchholz Nursery.

Coincidentally I worked with owner Greg for a couple of years at the Dutchman's nursery where we both had to endure: "If you're not Dutch, you're not much." Funny, but 40 years later the Dutchman is long gone along with his two sons, while we two "Not Mutch" are still in business. 'Green Strap' emerges light green with a reddish purple border in spring, then evolves to solid green by summer, and finally to fiery yellows, oranges and reds in autumn. I will complain about its name, however, since "green strap" is an old horticultural term for any plant with long, green willow-like lobes. It would be better used as a general description than as a cultivar name, since 'Scolopendrifolium', 'Ao shime no uchi', 'Aoyagi gawa', 'Koto no ito' etc. – and even the extremely fine 'Fairy Hair' – can all collectively be grouped as "green straps." But, it's too late now to improve its name.

Urihada Kaede (Melon-skin Maple)

Acer rufinerve 'Sunshine'

Acer rufinerve 'Sunshine'

Our one stock tree of Acer rufinerve 'Sunshine' came to us last autumn from MrMaple. It is luxuriating now in GH11 with a number of other new cultivars, so how it will preform in the Buchholz landscape is of course unknown. Its leaves are remarkably large due to its posh environment, but I wonder how they will hold up if we reach our normal 100 F high later this summer. Leaves will vary in color, as is typical of variegated maples, but I wonder if it's best described as "yellow variegated with green" or "green variegated with yellow?" If 'Sunshine' proves resistant to sun scorch, and if it is not inclined to revert, then I can picture it as a wonderful lawn tree. The rufinerve species, commonly known as "Redvein maple" or "Honshu maple," is native to Japan and is hardy to -20 F (USDA zone 5). A. rufinerve is fairly common on the islands of Honshu, Shikoku and Kyushu and is known as urihada kaede, or "melon-skin maple" which refers to the bark pattern.

Acer palmatum 'Mila'

Acer palmatum 'Mila'

Acer palmatum 'Mila' was selected probably a couple of decades ago in Holland by the late Dick Van der Maat, yet it is new to me as of last autumn. I have previously grown other Van der Maat selections but for some reason 'Mila' never made the journey. I was pleased with its appearance this spring with leaves beginning a light pastel-pink before gradually darkening to purple-red; bushy and fast growing besides. I had to chuckle at the English translation of Van der Maat's autobiography De Collection, where 'Mila' is said to grow to "two meters at maturnity."

Acer palmatum 'Arctic Flame'

Acer palmatum 'Arctic Flame'

Acer palmatum 'Arctic Flame'

Acer palmatum 'Arctic Flame'

Acer palmatum 'Arctic Flame' intrigued me this spring, and nearly every day I would wander into GH11 to see how it was looking. How it was looking was every day different, and all photos above were taken from our one and only 3 gal pot. Naturally I wonder how the wispy, pinkish-to-cream white foliage will hold up in Oregon sun, or in any other climate for that matter. Bear in mind that just because the new selection has a name, that doesn't necessarily mean that we will ever propagate it. Probably we will, though, as it's always good to have a backup in case the original is lost. I don't know the seed source responsible for 'Arctic Flame'; but it was a Crispin Silva (from Oregon) discovery, the same plantsman with many outstanding variegated introductions such as Acer palmatum 'Phantom Flame', Davidia involucrata 'Lady Sunshine', Cornus kousa 'Summer Gold', Styrax japonicus 'Frosted Emerald' and others. My only concern is that the cultivar name, 'Arctic Flame', has also been given to a recent Acer pseudosieboldianum introduction – though not a Crispin Silva discovery – so that duplication might cause confusion for the gardening public, and I'm pretty certain the situation will confound the Buchholz staff as well.

Acer palmatum 'Little Red'

There were many dozens of other plant cultivars new to me, and the role of Buchholz Nursery will be to propagate and build up availability as soon as possible. I was impressed with the organization of the MrMaple Open House, how they processed hundreds of gardening geeks with their veritable smorgasbord of old and new cultivars for sale, and I'm sure a large portion of shoppers exceeded the budget that they initially set for themselves. By noon the weather cleared and the wimpier shoppers eventually arrived and they wasted little time purchasing what was still for sale. It's fun to share a Christmas morning with little children; their joy is infectious, even though we know they will crash and burn later at some point. The MrMaple event was Christmas for adults, but their "crash and burn" will come about a month later with their credit card statement.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I reflected that it was ten years ago (in 2014) that I was last in western North Carolina. At that time I visited Dr. C. whose home and garden is near to the Nichols boys, and it was one of the highlights of the Maple Society tour that year. I looked forward to reconnecting with the good doctor and his lovely wife but they were out of town – indeed out of country (South Africa) – but we were granted permission to visit the estate that contains MrMaple trees as well as many Buchholz Nursery introductions. So Haruko and I escaped the Open House frenzy for the privacy of a collector's garden. I was astounded with the development of the landscape and its individual plants, but then a decade will do that. I roamed around for about an hour, occasionally requesting that Wifey stand next to a particular tree that I remembered from before, but I confess to feeling uneasy to explore someone's plant creation without their company.

I was on the alert for bears because Dr. C.'s garden has been victimized repeatedly, similar to the Gentling folks we visited yesterday. One wonders if the brutes are foraging for food or if they're simply out for mischief. They will pounce on a conifer specimen of great value and crush it just for the sport. Maybe they paw and molest the herbage to…give notice that you're on Alpha Bear's territory.

Picea engelmannii 'Blue Magoo'

Picea engelmannii 'Blue Magoo'

I was delighted to discover a large specimen of Picea engelmannii 'Blue Magoo' that we supplied years ago. It looked healthy and I confess that I sized it up for possible scionwood. We don't have even one at Buchholz Nursery because I quit it in a huff since the species is prone to attack by the bug that kills the tops of some species of spruce. I remember our last 'Blue Magoo' in the field, that when its top became infested we cut it down and burned it. Thanks for the memories. Later, of course, I regretted being so harsh.

Cornus kousa 'Summer Fun'

My good friend, Cornus kousa 'Summer Fun', was well-sited in front of an evergreen backdrop, and its regal glow was evident, especially on this cloudy day. I went up to it and gave a silent blessing; I wanted to protect it from bear attack.

Christina's World

I admit to being initially confused when Haruko was driving up the hill to Dr. C.'s place. "Slow down, slow down!" It just didn't look the same, where previously one looked up the very green hill to a very red house. I mentally composed a photo of Haruko, supine like the woman in Wyeth's Christina's World, but the house was no longer visible from below. I know too from my garden that it is a management process to deal with a tree collection, and there are countless times you want to point the magic wand and command, "Stop Growing, Now!" Cristina would have to crawl through the conifer/maple collection to get to the house now.

From the Dr. C. garden we drove back to MrMaple where I droned on about Buchholz maple introductions for over an hour, then the survivors rushed back to the greenhouses to search for more trees for their already too-full gardens.

Haruko and I would spend one more evening in Asheville, and I'm sure we had fun, though I can't remember what happened.

Bartlett Tree Experts

The Bartlett Arboretum

Tomorrow, Day 4 of North Carolina took place at the Bartlett Arboretum in Charlotte. I've only scratched the surface of that great institution after two visits, but I won't blog about it until I gather more experience. It will be worth the wait.

North Carolina 2024, Day 2

The Gentling Garden

The Gentling Garden

Ten years ago, almost to the month, I scheduled a visit to the private garden of Jasmin and Peter Gentling. Their plant collection was regionally famous and nationally known, located at the foothills of the Blue Ridge Parkway above Asheville, North Carolina. Seth and I arrived at the appointed hour, but no one was visible in their terraced, hill-side garden and no one answered our knocking at the door. A little sign announced that the garden had peaked the previous week, and too bad that we weren't there to see it. Apparently Seth and I would miss the post-peak week as well. We felt uncomfortable to wander unaccompanied in another's private space, and since this episode occurred prior to general smart-phone use, we couldn't communicate and make alternate plans. It turned out that Mr. Gentling had to dash away for a short time to pick his spouse up at the airport, and the brief window when he was gone was exactly when we had arrived.

Peter Gentling (left) and Talon (right)

I remembered only small slivers of the Gentling 'scape from ten years ago, in particular two towering Metasequoia glyptostroboides that were posted at the bottom of their rich-soil hill side and still rose above all else when viewed from atop. These were among the very first in America, replete with some documentation. The nearby Biltmore Estate had also acquired an early “Dawn redwood” specimen and the Vanderbilt snobs naturally assumed that they possessed the champion, to which the Gentlings appear less than 100% in agreement. I don't know how the Carolina Metasequoias would compete with the largest in Oregon or anywhere else – outside of China – for that matter. If the states or nations could vie in honest competition the world could sponsor a Flora Olympics...but watch closely in case the Russians try to cheat with illegal “supplements” and steroid-infused fertilizers.

Haruko pressed me for information about the Gentlings, and I routinely answered “I don't know.” But I did know that they were occasionally featured in garden magazine articles as collectors of unusual plants, but not a business occupied with growing and selling plants. I reassured H. that it was a short, beautiful drive anyway, plus the neighboring property displays a most interesting wooden fence, its purpose by the road can only be described as art, simple and perfectly positioned along the winding road. I took a photo of the fence ten years ago and it appears to have weathered well – probably better than me – in the ensuing decade.

Perhaps mesmerized by the fence we wandered onto the wrong road, but fortunately Mr. Gentling steered us via phone to his driveway, waiting for us at the top. He refused Haruko's offer to hop in, said he would rather walk. Mr. G., at 86 years, was short, compact and energetic, and he instantly won us over with his gracious smile. Mrs. G. joined the garden tour, and Jasmin could be described as a solid match for her husband, except that she was better looking.

Poliothyrsis sinensis at Gentlings

Poliothyrsis sinensis in Spring

Poliothyrsis sinensis trunk

We zig-zagged our way down the terraced paths so we could check out the Metasequoia giants' trunks, and the pair were clearly the pride and joy of the Gentling estate. On the way down Mr. G. pointed to the canopy of a deciduous tree that was contending for air space with a large Japanese elm. He announced that it was Poliothyrsis sinensis, a tree commonly called the “Chinese Pearl-Bloom tree,” a species I had encountered last year at Duke Garden. It's a monotypic genus in the willow family, Salicaceae, and its pubescent shoots and shiny leaves fluttered in the breeze. I admit that my initial interest wasn't for the tree itself, rather it was the name that began with “polio” that required my attention. Polio is a Greek word for “grey,” and the infectious disease caused by the polio virus – poliomyelitis – literally refers to a “greying of the marrow.” Thyrsis is from Greek thyrsos for “stalk” or “wand,” in this case a flower panicle, so it basically means “bearing bright (greyish) flower clusters.” The Chinese local name shan guai zao translates as “mountain raisin tree” due to its resemblance to the Chinese native Hovenia acerba, the latter being commonly used as a street tree in southern China. Mr. G. seemed pleased with his specimen, but one must wonder why it is seldom encountered in modern landscapes, especially since it was first discovered by Augustine Henry in the 1800s and introduced to the Arnold Arboretum by E.H. Wilson in 1908. It is hardy to USDA zone 6 (-10 F) and produces fragrant flowers – is the disease-sounding name perhaps a liability?

Lysimachia japonica

While I was focused on the tree canopy, Haruko was delighted with a cute green groundcover, Lysimachia japonica var. minutissima that sparkled with tiny yellow, star-like flowers. The genus is commonly called “dwarf creeping jenny” and is surprisingly in the Primulaceae family. The generic name honors ancient King Lysimachus from Macedonia, but that's for a faster, more aggressive species than the miniature Japanese form. Mr. G. informed Haruko that he had plenty available should she want to take a pot home. I get a little stab of bittersweet sorrow as I try to distance myself from a life-long plant collecting addiction, and I purposely bought my “last house” with just a miniscule amount of garden space to help me go cold turkey. At this point I cede all gardening decisions to my wife, and she has already hogged the prime home plot with tomatoes, lettuce and carrots. Owning a nursery, being responsible for the plants, employees and customers was a Jobian ordeal that consumed most of my adult life, and now I prefer to roam in others' landscapes, especially in my Maker's free-for-all wilderness.

Ahh...but back to the Gentling garden where the elderly couple shares ownership with a family of Ursus americanus var. americanus, the black bear endemic to North America (from the Pacific to the Atlantic), the continent's most widely distributed bear species. I have encountered a few in my Oregon wilderness forays, but North Carolina boasts – or groans – with the largest population in America. Mrs. G. showed us her espalier apple trees where the bears ripped off the unripened fruit. They don't politely nibble from the trees in a sustainable fashion, but rather devour the green rocks by tearing off the branches as well. In another example we witnessed path logs torn from the garden trails, where the marauders scavenge for the grubs and insects hiding beneath.

I suppose many North Carolina gardeners have a bear story to tell, but Mr. G. gave us a particularly good one with Mama (“Cutnose”) foraging in his garden. He was watching her from what he felt was a safe distance, after all he and the bear were no strangers to each other, and the old wound on her face always gave away her identity. Suddenly Mr. G.'s hand felt a wet nose, for one of the cubs had snuck up behind him, putting the human between Mama and the cub. Fortunately Mr. G. had the good sense to slowly, calmly back away from the situation, otherwise we wouldn't be talking with him today.

Male Pileated Woodpecker

Female Pileated Woodpecker

Winnie and Woody

Suddenly Haruko gasped when she saw something exciting in one of the native White oak trees (Quercus alba). With bears on my mind, I expected that H. had spotted one in the canopy, but instead it was a huge bird, and the Gentlings identified it, nonchalantly, as a pileated woodpecker and it was no surprise to them. I had only seen one before, many years ago, in a wetland area of the Bellevue Botanic Garden in Washington state, but I was thrilled for H. because birding has become a recent hobby for her. There's no way you can adequately describe the wonderful creature with words or photos even, but when any nature lover actually sees their first it is a sight never to be forgotten. Dryocopus pileatus is the largest woodpecker species in North America, and its specific epithet is from Latin meaning “capped,” referring to the red crest on top of both the male and female's head. Personally, I'm very accomplished at imitating the pileated call, as are most others of my age, because we grew up with the Woody the Woodpecker cartoons from the 1950s. Woody, and his girlfriend Winnie were both modeled after the pileated bird.

Tsuga canadensis from Sidney Waxman

An attractive Tsuga lined the path, a compact flat-growing dwarf with fresh green foliage which I estimated to be between 20 and 30 years old. Mr. G. pointed out that a nearby Tsuga – something that looked like 'Jervis' or 'Hussii' – was infested with the Tsuga adelgid, and he lifted up a branch as evidence. The compact Tsuga, however, seemed to be resistant to the woolly disease, and Mr. G. lifted up one of its branchlets as proof. Unfortunately the choice hemlock had no name and I don't know if it has ever been propagated. It was a gift from the famous conifer witch's broom guru, the late Dr. Sidney Waxman (1923-2005), an American botanist and horticulturist who operated out of the University of Connecticut's campus at Storrs. He was distinguished for the introduction of over 30 dwarf pines, hemlocks, larches and Sciadopitys cultivars, many of which were grown from seed of witch's brooms. We corresponded by phone a couple of times and he seemed eager to send some samples, I guess to help spread the gospel of dwarf conifers. I was already growing some of his introductions which were gifted to me by other East Coast growers, but I agreed to “try” a couple of golden strobus pines, 'Goldie #1' and 'Goldie #4', but in both cases they burned in full sun, or were too greenish when grown with shade protection. East Coast conifer collectors many times assume that it constantly rains in Oregon, so we should have no problem growing golden-foliaged conifers; but believe me, we surpass 100 F (38C) nearly every summer, and we don't have the sweltering humidity that helps to keep moisture on the foliage. If I was still actively collecting plants, I would certainly request cuttings of Mr. G's hemlock, but I would want to know if anyone else has attempted to propagated it, for perhaps it already goes by a different name.

Japanese Pilgrim (Henro)

Peter, Jasmin, Haruko and I retired to the shady patio for a relaxing lunch, as the day was growing warm. We talked about the pesky bears, grieving elephants and our host's time spent travelling in Japan. The Gentlings loved to talk about a temple route* they accomplished on the more remote island of Shikoku, where at each temple the pilgrims received an official signature from the headmaster. I wondered if I was already too old for such an adventure, especially with the rustic sleeping accommodations. On the other hand, maybe a Japanese pilgrimage is exactly what my old soul could use, and the energy required might come from the  purity of purpose of an unnecessary journey.

 *I don't know if the Gentlings stopped at all 88 of the temples on the Henro Junrei. Henro is the Japanese word for "pilgrim."

It warmed my heart that Haruko could bond with the Gentling couple, as if they had been close friends for many years. I reflected back to my missed opportunity ten years previous, but maybe I wasn't ready to meet them then.

Before parting, Mr. G. was anxious that we take a look into his greenhouse and adjoining cold frames. It was a hobbyist's clutter for sure, with scads of pots with small cutting-grown stuff from his garden, all of it labelled per his particular needs. The amateur propagator who loves to putter without a commercial plan, is often the one who you can learn the most from, and besides he has no need or desire to keep secrets. Mr. G. took the opportunity to relieve himself of a pot of the cute Lysimachia that Haruko admired, and she now has it planted in a pumice stone at our new house. Well, since we were now going to be transporting a plant home from North Carolina, I also agreed to take a short seedling of the Poliothyrsis sinensis, but it has been added to the Buchholz Nursery inventory as there's absolutely no room for it at our new home. So, going cold turkey with plant collecting will probably never happen. I just wonder if something interesting will sprout from my grave after I'm long gone?

Lysimachia japonica var. minutissima

As for Haruko, I was happy that my sweet wife placed the tiny Japanese groundcover next to our front door. It's wonderful that we could add a little bit of the Gentlings to our lives.

North Carolina May-June 2024

North Carolina

A short while ago a friend asked if we had any travel plans...now that this old geezer is retired; well, semi-retired. I answered “Yes, soon we're headed for North Carolina.” Haruko chimed in: “Ahh, North Carolina, I love North Carolina.” Admittedly, North Carolina does not equate with London, Paris or Timbuktu, so perhaps our destination sounded relatively uneventful, and the questioner followed with “Why NC?” I pondered for a moment, then replied from my heart rather than my brain, “Well, it's the people.”

Talon, Tim Nichols, Matt Nichols

In addition to the wonderful denizens of the “Tar Heel” state, I had an agenda to attend an open-house event with the new owners of Buchholz Nursery – MrMaple – where I was slated to give a speech on Buchholz maple introductions to the throng of Acer addicts who were in town to buy directly from the mail-order maple giants. Probably every maple collector from the hundreds in attendance already own at least one Buchholz introduction, and they were eager to collect more, and perhaps all of the hundred or so if only money and garden-space would allow. Not just my introductions, because the MrMaple company houses over 1,500 individual maple cultivars, as well as an impressive array of conifers and other deciduous and evergreen trees and shrubs. A mega garage sale of choice plants, with attendees traveling from as far away as Texas.

Haruko and I red-eyed it from PDX to Charlotte where we arrived at 7 AM without sleep. In our exhaustion, combined with Charlotte's less than user-friendly airport signage, we bumbled around trying to find the baggage claim area. Most unorientally, I was the one who followed Haruko's lead, and I suppose without her I would still be wandering around in foggy circles. Picking up our rental car was equally problematic, and I had an urge to fire everyone and micromanage the airport myself. Certainly not as clear and simple as the Portland airport. I had to check my emotions, however, as I sensed that my wife was growing weary of my grumpiness, and might abandon me with the next flight home.

Blue Ridge Mountains

Anyway, we eventually retrieved our luggage and procured a car, then drove the 130 miles to the Asheville area. I wanted to accomplish as much as possible on our four-day trip, so from Asheville we immediately merged onto the Blue Ridge Parkway to explore the route for plants. The Blue Ridge Mountains are a veritable Disneyland of nature where I have been twice before, in April and October, and both sides of the road are akin to a world-class botanic garden. They are hills more than mountains really, and as part of the Appalachian range they were created by the uplifting of the earth's tectonic plates over a billion years ago. At one time, it has been postulated, they were as tall as the Himalaya.

Houstonia caerulea

Houstonia caerulea

Unfortunately we arrived on a good-weather Saturday morning, so the scenic route was more crowded than on my previous visits...where I could stop and jump out of the car to inspect and photograph plants without annoying anyone. I spotted a blue-haze groundcover in one instance that demanded my attention, but before I could even exit the car a crab-ass, probably from New York or Jersey, blew his excessively loud horn for me to “get the hell outta da way!” His blaring honk pissed my peace and I wanted to fight back with: “Do you know who the hell I am? – I'm Mr. Flora Wonder. On a higher mission than you'll ever know!” Of course Haruko cringed at my aggressive outburst: “Honey, you can't park in the road, on a curve.” I learned later that the low wildflower in question was Houstonia caerulea, a delicate sweetheart commonly known as “Azure Bluet” or “Quaker Ladies.”

Jan Frederik Gronovius

Our enchanting little bluet's botanical name was coined by Dutch botanist Jan Frederik Gronovius in honor of William Houston (1695-1733), a Scottish surgeon and botanist, and that generic name was adopted by Linnaeus. Houston (or Houstoun) hailed from the village of Houston, Renfrewshire in the west Lowlands of Scotland, a settlement that formed around the castle and parish church dedicated to St. Peter, hence the area was known as Kilpeter (or “Cille Pheadair” in Scottish Gaelic). After returning to London from America in 1731, he was soon commissioned to undertake a three-year expedition financed by the trustees for the Province of Georgia to improve botany and agriculture in Georgia. That assignment never came to fruition as he “died form the heat” (at age 38) soon after arriving in Jamaica, and even worse he was interred in Kingston itself. I dwell on the young Houston because he exemplifies quite a number of European botanical adventurers who roamed America before, and shortly after the Revolution for Independence. The Native Americans preceded them of course with their own system of identification, classification, and with their particular nomenclature. As for the first Euro to harvest from the bounty of America, that would be Columbus on his second voyage in 1493, a few years before America even received its name.

Fagus grandifolia

Fagus grandifolia

Fagus grandifolia

Aesculus sylvatica

Aesculus sylvatica

Abies fraseri

We continued north on the Blue Ridge Parkway, with me driving at a leisurely pace which must have irked those in my rear. They were taking the scenic route to Virginia I assumed, with no thought as to the wealth of plants that they zoomed past, but at least I pulled over whenever possible to get them off my tail. Haruko and I absorbed the myriad shades of green from the fresh spring leaves of Fagus grandifolia, Aesculus sylvatica and the occasional “Canadian hemlock,” Tsuga canadensis. Abies fraseri appeared at the higher elevations of about 5,000', but the numbers were sparse, reduced by 90% in some areas due to the European-introduced pest of “Balsam Woolly adelgid” (Adelges piceae). The hemlocks have also been decimated by another woolly adelgid (Adelges tsugae), an aphid-like insect that produces tiny, white cotton balls. The critter inside feeds on the sap at the base of the needles...which eventually fall off to the trees' demise. At one point Buchholz Nursery produced over 50 different dwarf hemlock cultivars; in fact we were famous for our rooted-cutting program and we supplied many Oregon wholesale growers until some Eastern states imposed shipping restrictions. For the most part, then, the Tsuga party is over, except for a few varieties like T.c. 'Pendula' (“Sargeant's Weeping Hemlock”), Tsuga diversifolia 'Loowit' and Tsuga heterophylla 'Thorsen's Weeping' that we produce for the West Coast market.

Blue Ridge Mountains

DaVinci's Virgin of the Rocks

While I used the frequent Parkway turn-outs to rid the tourist hoard tailgating me, a number of them also stopped for the view, and I suppose there are millions of shutter clicks with Mom, Dad, the Kids and the Family Dog taken every year to document that they were actually There. Heck, I do the same with Haruko; she used to groan at the modelling assignment, but eventually learned to be quiet and give one for the Cause. Very unlike West Coast mountain scenery, the Blue Ridge and Smoky Mountain vistas melt into hazy blue oblivion, where the distant hills fade to faint obscurity. This phenomenon is documented by their names – Blue Ridge and Smokies – and is caused by the trees releasing isoprene into the atmosphere, a common volatile organic compound. Isoprene emission increases with temperature and maximizes at around 40 C (104 F), and it has been speculated that the release may protect plants from heat stress. The visitor can submit to the non-definitive effect – though initially difficult for this clear-cut German mind – for there is a peaceful tranquility that engulfs the senses. Leonardo DaVinci understood the concept and employed the sfumato technique (“to evaporate like smoke), the soft dreamlike effect in his artwork.

OK – enough of dreaming – back to the Parkway! Haruko continuously implored that she could handle the driving chore, the implication being that she would be more alert and safe than me. But for 22 years of marriage I continue to scoff at her offer, that I should continue to drive: “It's better to be safe than sorry.” I love to tease her with that reminder because it causes her to roll her eyes in frustration. Nevertheless I decided to take the juncture to Mt. Mitchell, where one can huff and puff from the 6,000'+ visitor center to the 6,684' (2037m) summit. I felt that we could snap ourselves out of our delirious malaise with good, old-fashioned exercise. I was right, of course, which also infuriated her, and I was especially pleased that we had to stop half-way to the top for Haruko to catch her breath. I was breathing heavily too, but still thrilled to be at elevation where my thoughts developed their own form of sfumato.

Chief Attakullakulla

Dragging Canoe

Mt. Mitchell is the tallest mountain...er, hill in the eastern portion of the United States, i.e. east of the Mississippi river. No big deal in early summer, but I bet it's quite windy and nasty in winter. Indeed, the “peak” was named for Elisha Mitchell, a professor at the University of North Carolina who first explored the region in 1835. When the learned wimp fell to his death at nearby Mitchell Falls, the summit signage was changed from Black Dome (for its rounded shape) to honor the stumbling professor. Of course, prior to the Mt. Mitchell designation, Native Americans (Cherokee) called the mountain Attakulla for an 18^th century Native leader who helped shape trade and diplomatic relationships with the British colonial governments. One can applaud Chief Attakullakulla's (the tribe's “First Beloved Man”) efforts to maintain a difficult peace in North America, but his son Dragging Canoe continued Cherokee resistance to the American advancement, and history shows that it did not end so well.

Asheville, NC around 1890

Samuel Ashe

Though somewhat giddy at the summit, Haruko appeared revived enough, and with me exhausted enough that I handed her the car keys so that she could be important. She eschewed the need for her foot on the accelerator and instead gently applied it to the brake pedal, and thus we glided down into the fun streets of Asheville. I learned dozens of years ago that the name meaning of Boise, Idaho, was French for “forest,” and how happy the settlers must have been to finally end up in a wooded paradise by a sustaining river. Similarly, the early inhabitants of what is now the hell-hole of Fresno, California received some solace from the abundance of ash trees (Spanish: fresno) that lined the much welcomed river. Naturally I assumed, then, that Asheville, North Carolina was named for a local species of Fraxinus, but I was quite rong. In 1792 Buncombe County established a city named “Morristown” as its county seat. Five years later that city name was changed to “Asheville” after North Carolina Governor Samuel Ashe. Originally it was a crossroads of Indian trails on a 2,134 ft. (670 m) plateau surrounded by mountains. When the railroad came in 1880 the city developed into a resort and therapeutic center, and other visitors such as Haruko and myself come for the mountain scenery and for the abundance of its diverse plant community.

Biltmore Estate

Haruko had a minor urge to visit the Biltmore Estate, the enormous home and gardens built by the philanthropist George Washington Vanderbilt, but I groaned at the thought. I had already visited a half dozen years previous while trapped on a Maple Society tour bus. It was one of the most wasted half-days of my life. The interior of the “largest home in America” was dark and gloomy, and all entrances to rooms with art treasures were roped off. The vast gardens, designed by America's best-known landscape architect, Frederick Law Olmsted, are a sprawling collection of trees and shrubs – some native, others exotic – but the whole affair doesn't impress me any more than a typical mile stretch on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Anyway I waved off any thought of visiting Biltmore because “we didn't have time.”

But we did find time each evening to join the other hundreds of tourists enjoying the downtown Asheville experience. Haruko is a wonderful companion and her sweet smile allows strangers to become friends. I'm a bit more reserved (grumpy) as I calculate the cost of having fun. I knew H. would approve of the Mellow Mushroom pizza joint for a quick bite, then later at Vinnies for an Italian meal, and at other restaurants which I cannot now recall. The highlight (foodwise) for H. was Old European Pastries on Broadway Street; it was recommended by locals as well as featured in all the tourist brochures back at our hotel. Just moments before we both downed two slices of pizza, and with an additional beer I was too stuffed to think about adding cake to my overworked gut. H. however – all 108 pounds of her – was able to develop an instant hunger when we walked in the pastry door and she studied the display case. She ordered two different cakes and a coffee, but she promised that she would only sample each cake and finish them off later back at the hotel and in the coming days. I sat and smiled while she declared each bite to be her last (for now), but she couldn't stop because the desserts were so light and tasty, and, and cheap too, she kept explaining...

Every trip I have taken in my career is written off as a business expense, except for Haruko's cake-shop experience and other such indulgences. I am able to study the local flora, plus visit nurseries, arboreta and private gardens. Next week I'll continue with the “write-off” aspect of North Carolina.