The Master Plant List and the Buchholz Nursery Photo Library

Our Master Plant List – the computerized compilation of all species and cultivars growing at the nursery and in the Flora Wonder Arboretum – is a tool we use because our brains can't remember everything. But do all the listings still exist? Do all of the plants that have been recently acquired appear on the list? Do we really have Pleione Ueli 'Wackernagel Pearl' for example, and if so why is the specific name Ueli capitalized? I consider the Master Plant List to be the company Bible and any omission or misspelling is not to be tolerated. The problem is that I rely on employees who, over the years, don't match my zeal for nomenclatural and historical accuracy.

Pleione x ueli 'Wackernagel Pearl'

Well, it turns out that the orchid does exist here, and it was acquired by Office Manager Eric, and he used my credit card when I wasn't paying attention, and I think he even took the photo above. So ok, I guess I don't know everything that goes on at the nursery, and maybe I'm not so far ahead of everyone else. We received our start of 'Wackernagel Pearl' from England two years ago, it being a hybrid between P. aurita and P. formosana. I don't know who or what is a “wackernagel,” but I think it would have been better off with just the name 'Pearl'. It appears that it was originally registered by Heinz Pinkepank in 1991. Pinkepank – I kid you not, and the hybrid name should properly be rendered as x ueli. The orchid genus Pleione is showy with the most feminine of flowers, however the name orchid comes from the Greek word orchis meaning “testicle” because of the shape of the bulbous roots.

Pleione with Les Oceanides Les Naiades de la Mer

The name Pleione originates in Greek mythology, and as a star she was the mother of seven daughters known as the Pleiades. For those who appreciate an astronomical description, Pleione, like many stars in the cluster, is a blue-white B-type main sequence dwarf star with a temperature of about 12,000 Kelvins. A few space nerds out there will completely understand that description and that is their “reality.” For me, however, “space” is a fiction and it is no more “real” than mythology, except perhaps with our recent solar eclipse. The Greeks knew Pleione as an Oceanid nymph, and naturally I am partial to her when I consider her depiction in a painting by French artist Gustave Dore. There are a number of possible origins to the name Pleione – all of them great stories – but her name is associated with grace, speed and elegance.

Acer truncatum

Acer truncatum

Acer truncatum 'Fire Dragon'

Acer truncatum 'Super Dragon'

Ok, let's get back to the Master Plant List (MPL) lest I dwell excessively on Greek nymphs. I had a few extra Acer truncatum rootstocks after primarily using them to propagate Acer pictum 'Usu gumo'. I checked the MPL to see which truncatum cultivars are in the collection and I found none listed. But hold on – wait a minute! – because I have at least three; all given to me three years ago by Keith Johansson of Metro Maples of Texas. I'm not licensed to propagate and sell his selections, but he allowed that I could graft a couple in case my originals should perish when planted out. Why they were not on the MPL when in the SE corner of BAG9 I have 'Baby Dragon', 'Super Dragon' and 'Fire Dragon'? The latter two are vigorous and I snipped five scions from each, but the 'Baby Dragon' is a floppy little wimp and I decided to pass for this year.

Acer truncatum is a pretty species named for its flat-based leaves, and the amazing thing is that it grows in the hell-hole of Texas, probably better than palmatum or any other species. It is commonly known as the “Shantung maple” and it hails from its tough range in northern China, Manchuria and Korea, so no wonder that it thrives in Texas. Acer truncatum also partners well with other species, in particular with A. platanoides, and a couple of selections from that union have yielded x 'Norwegian Sunset' and x 'Pacific Sunset'.

Wollemia nobilis

Dracaena draco

Dracaena draco

You all have access to our photo library on our website, whether you buy anything from us or not, but that of course does not necessarily give you permission to use these photos. While the library is an autobiography of all that I have seen, the MPL is a list of what we actually have in the collection. Some are confused with Wollemi nobilis for example, of which we have one (only) 14' tall specimen. So it appears on our MPL although we've never had any for sale. I have 16 photos of Dracaena draco in our photo library, but it won't appear in our MPL because I have never possessed one ever.

So why present photos when I don't have the plants for sale, or have never even had them on the property? In lurid red type at the beginning we proclaim: “Although our Plant Library contains interesting and hard to find plants, please understand that we do not necessarily offer all of these for sale. Please consult our availability listings for current stock.” Englishman Sir Harold Hillier presented pretty much the same thing with the Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs, an encyclopedia where much of the contents have never been acquired nor offered for sale by Hillier Nursery. Also, I doubt that anyone – past or present – at Hillier's has seen every plant contained in the Manual. Like Hillier, my photo library morphed into something beyond what was first intended; and not to brag, but mine probably contains more listings since I include annuals and perennials. The Hillier Manual is a greater achievement since it contains more information, and in a concise and easy-to-read format. Also I enjoy the mix of botany and horticulture, occasionally including personal anecdotes and experiences in the Hillier's.

Abelia grandiflora 'Radiance'

Abelia grandiflora 'Radiance'

Abies alba 'Barabits Star'

The first plant in our photo library is Abelia grandiflora 'Radiance', a variegated shrub that I first saw in North Carolina four years ago, but I've never grown it. The first MPL listing is Abies alba 'Barabits Star' and I actually have a few for sale. Note that there is no apostrophe to the Dr. Barabits name – which I learned just now – so we have to update all Barabits plants with the correct name, and there are quite a few of them. His Abies is a semi-dwarf cultivar with a dense compact habit that originated as a witch's broom in his pinetum in Hungary. It was discovered in 1965 and was later patented by the Hungarian Agricultural Institute of Budapest in 1975, but I don't think that anyone today honors that patent. My first specimen was planted in the Display Garden years ago and it grew into a perfect cone, like it would have made the most fantastic Christmas tree. Unfortunately it would have been crowded and ruined by an aggressive maple, Acer palmatum 'Emerald Lace'. What to do? I dug the Abies and put it into a nice cedar box, but then I was suddenly overtaken with a moment of capitalism and listed it for sale at a high price. Drat! – someone bought it anyway and I had to say goodbye. All of my subsequent 'Barabits Star' take on a spreading form without the perfect central leader, but Merry Christmas to somebody...

Zephyranthes candida

Zephyros

The final listing on our MPL is Zephyranthes candida, but sales were weak so I planted out the final ten pots into the landscape, and I'm happy that the USDA zone 7 bulbs survived our 3 degrees F cold snap this past winter and they are today in bloom. It is commonly known as the “Rain lily,” in the Amaryllidaceae family, with a native range in Argentina, Chile and Uruguay. The common name is due to the fact that it bursts into flower soon after it receives substantial rain. It displays happy crocus-like white flowers which arise above the dark-green grass-like foliage. I like the name zephyr which is derived from Greek zephyros meaning the “west wind,” and it is combined with New Latin anthes (anthos) for “flower,” but I don't know what got into name-giver Cooperia Herbert to use a Greek name for a South American bulb. Was it windy that day? Candida (candidus) is Latin for “white” or “shining,” but be careful because there is a Candida genus which is a yeast-like fungus that can cause athlete's foot or other infections.

Leucothoe keiskei

I opened my MPL at random near the middle and came to Leucothoe keiskei, an ericaceous shrub from Japan. I first saw it at the University of British Columbia's second-rate* rock garden in October and the leaves glowed with a ruby-red color. The species needs to be planted in moist well-drained soil, and in Oregon it will perform horribly if not given afternoon shade. The species was introduced by E.H. Wilson in 1915 and was given an Award of Merit in 1933. In the Hillier Manual there is mention of the cultivar 'Royal Ruby' with “Dark green foliage, rich ruby-red when young and again in winter.” I acquired 'Royal Ruby' from FF, an Oregon mail-order nursery. I could see after a couple of years that it was not of the keiskei species – a hybrid maybe, but not keiskei – so now I just list it as Leucothoe 'Royal Ruby'. When confronted with my suspicion of specific inaccuracy, the know-it-all responded with, “Oh well, you win some, you lose some,” and never did he offer to return my money. Anyway, when I see 'Royal Ruby' listed in the Hillier Manual I would like to see their plant. I can peruse photos on the internet that look more like keiskei than the plant I was given; and 20 years later I still haven't forgiven the vendor, as some other of his plants have proven false. Win some, lose some...indeed.

*Second rate when I last visited 20 years ago, due to lack of upkeep-money. Hopefully it has been rejuvenated since.

Rehderodendron macrocarpum

Dr. Bump

The MPL also lists Source 1 and Source 2 for the times when I acquired the same species or cultivar from two different places. Such is the case for the seldom-seen Rehderodendron macrocarpum, where my original start came from the late Dr. Bump of Forest Grove, Oregon, and the second was years later from the Rhododendron Species Botanical Garden, though I'm not certain if the latter is cutting-grown or a seedling. I don't remember what happened to the Bump source, but I grafted some sticks from his tree onto Styrax japonicus. A few took and they were sold a couple of years later, and I just kept one for my collection as it can grow into a large and uncommercial tree. I guess my specimen died, and I don't recall ever seeing it in flower, but in any case it is no longer here. According to Hillier the macrocarpum species was discovered by F.T. Wang in 1931, and he (Hillier) describes it as “A magnificent species, in garden merit equal to the best Styrax.” The genus name honors Alfred Rehder (1863-1949), a horticulturist and taxonomist who worked at the Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University. The young German was originally hired as a mere laborer* at the Arnold but his additional talents were soon recognized, and it's quite remarkable that a Chinese tree genus (commonly known as Mu Gua Hong) scientifically bears his name. I am envious obviously, for I would love to have a generic name honor me as Buchholzodendron, combining my Germanic name with dendron, or Greek for “tree.”

Alfred Rehder

*Rehder applied to Charles Sprague Sargent to work on the Arboretum grounds for $1.00 per day. It was noted in Arnoldia (1938) – a publication that I subscribe to – that “his first task was to eliminate the weeds in the newly established shrub collection by the vigorous use of a hoe.” Eventually Rehder replaced his hoe for a pen and he collaborated with E.H. Wilson to write the Plantae Wilsoniae which documented “Chinese” Wilson's plant collections. Rehder's career is notable for authoring about 1,400 plant names and for publishing more than 1,000 articles in botanical and horticultural works. Besides Rehderodendron, over 60 genera and species bear his name.

Quite a number of (former) employees were uncomfortable with my obsession with my plant records, like I should allow some leeway for human error. Well, I didn't fire or kill anybody for the omission of the aforementioned Acer truncatum cultivars. At the beginning I kept my records in a shoebox with 4x6 note cards, where every cultivar or species was recorded along with the plant's source or sources. I even added notes, like: from so-and-so, but he's wrong with a number of nomenclatural issues with other plants...so try to acquire from another source. Keep in mind that my records were from pre-computer days, so the best I could do was to use a sharp pencil on crisp cards in alphabetical order. The system worked; really it was perfect, and all of my information was concise and accurate.

Acer palmatum 'Fjellheim'

Well, I was very methodical about recording additions to the collection, but far more lax about what should be deleted. With raising a family and trying to keep the nursery afloat, I just didn't have the energy to know when a cultivar or species went extinct in the Buchholz realm. For example, I collected one stock plant of Acer palmatum 'Fjellheim', the 'Sango kaku' witch's-broom dwarf. Seven plants were propagated from my original, which was then sold, and after a few years the propagules were planted out in the Far East section of the nursery, and they were to be used as a future scionwood source. Though I list 'Fjellheim' as a USDA zone 7 plant, hardy to 0 degrees F, all seven of my trees succumbed during a cold snap at 5 degrees F. So, all were dead, and who needs to grow such a delicate wimp anyway? The entry was removed from the MPL and the nursery moved on. Later in the summer I discovered about twenty rooted cuttings in a propagation flat in the corner of GH17, so it didn't totally disappear after all! I forgot that we had stuck a few cuttings the summer before. The point is that Buchholz Nursery is a fairly small company that houses and maintains a minor arboretum, and even though it is run by a hard-ass German founder, the records cannot be completely trusted.

Saxifraga macnabiana

Another example was when I was in a “cleanse-the-house” mood, and I sat down to delete various plants from the MPL that were clearly no longer in the collection. Off the list went Abeliophyllum distichum 'Pink Star' when my one-and-only disheveled plant was thrown away because it was prominently placed along the driveway to impress and please my wife, yet it was always sickly and half dead. So goodbye. I also deleted Saxifraga macnabiana because I hadn't seen it in years. It was an early collection, probably acquired from a Hardy Plant Society sale because it was cute when I saw it in flower. Probably it died the first year it was planted out...because I really didn't know how to grow the touchy genus back then. So, also off the list. Honestly, the very next day I was walking through the Display Garden, and just twenty steps away from where I am writing now, I encountered a tight green mound with frothing white flowers. Yep, it was my deleted Saxifraga macnabiana! Certainly I was pleased, though humbled; but never have I claimed to have the brains of a Linnaeus. Anyway...put it back on the MPL.

Bye Bye Fly

Saturday, 2 PM

Seth,

Just so you know, the same pesky office fly from Friday is still bugging me on Saturday afternoon. I'm inside on this hot day and so is the damn fly, and I even caught him sitting on my coffee cup rim.

Swat, swat, swat – I keep missing – isn't he a clever sob?...ok, wait, he's on my Ipad cover now, licking his chops and resting on his laurels. I grab the manila folder for my Nationwide Insurance invoices which is flexible yet sturdy...and with a solid whap I squash him to smithereens. I go to the bathroom to scrub my cup with soap and hot water, but after 30 years I really don't want to drink from it again.

P.S. I used Hillary Clinton toilet paper to wipe the fly from my Ipad. Oops – Did I just lose half of the Flora Wonder Blog readership?

A Week To Forget

Wait! Get Sammy a pair of glasses.

A number of groups visited the nursery last week, and I suppose some chose Oregon this August so they could also witness the solar eclipse. By coincidence our nursery association held its annual Far West Plant Show in Portland, an event that I have attended for over 40 years. Out-of-state nurserymen used to do business at the show, but these days the extravaganza has been eclipsed by the internet and one wonders how much longer it can limp along. I always enjoy the fiction a few weeks later when the executive director of the nursery association reports how wonderful and successful it was, and of course the attendance allegedly exceeds that from the year  before. I used to exhibit at the show but now I just attend and I guess the primary reason I go is out of a morbid curiosity, wondering just how shrunken and boring it can get. The Far West Show is free for association members like myself, but a whopping $20 for non-members which is at least $21 too much.

Picea omorika 'Pendula Bruns'

A month ago the German nursery firm Bruns Pflanzen announced that the owner and two members wished to visit on August 23^rd, and we agreed to host them in the morning. I was excited because I had visited their nursery 17 years before, and it is one of the better-known in Europe. I remember asking Herr Bruns if we could perhaps see the original Picea omorika 'Pendula Bruns' which is common in the trade, in America at least. He – about my age – gave me a blank look and said he didn't know anything about it. I imagine that it was discovered or at least grown by his father then, but how surprising that the son knew nothing of it.

Baking cookies

I explained to my wife Haruko that in Germany one always sits down with the host, either before or after the tour, for coffee and cookies or cakes. She loved the concept and wondered why American nurserymen were not as hospitable, that maybe we're in too much of a hurry. The day before she baked some treats and I assured her that we had plenty of coffee, and also tea in case one of them was a wimp. I tidied up the office some and put in extra chairs, determined that we could match any German nursery for hospitality. I cleared my schedule in the event that I could also take them out to lunch if they desired.

The morning of their visit I stayed close to the office. The day before any dead plants or garbage was hauled off so I could proudly show off my nursery.

...Hmm, as the morning progressed I kept looking at my watch, wondering when they would show up. I stayed until 5:30 in the afternoon, but never did they appear, and never did they call or email that they had changed their plans. That wasn't very German of them, was it? With their behavior they transformed themselves from real Germans into bleeping Joimans, and Seth and Eric humorously imitated Germanic speech. It was incredible – incredibly rude – that we were snubbed, especially since I am of German heritage, but at least I can laugh about it now, and I can assure you that the cookies did not go to waste.

(Obscure) Asian Maple Species

Dipteronia sinensis

We have many Acer species in the Flora Wonder Arboretum, and also a Dipteronia sinensis which is closely allied to Acer. In the trade they are referred to as “species maples,” meaning anything other than the common forms of A. palmatum, A. japonicum and A. shirasawanum. At the beginning of my career J.D. Vertrees, the noted maple author and guru, asked me if I was interested in the species maples, and I replied, “Not particularly.” He responded, “You will one day.” I felt the way I did because I recognized that my limited brain capacity would have a difficult time to absorb obscure species with very limited market potential. Besides, many of them didn't even look like “maples.” When I was economically on my feet – though never well off – I began to admire and collect species new to me, and I guess the old codger was right after all.

Acer griseum

I found that I could sell Acer griseum, the larger the better, and it was a profitable species for me. Now they are so plentiful that their price has declined, but I suppose that Englishman E.H. Wilson would be happy to know that the tree he introduced would become so popular and useful. It is commonly used as a street tree in many towns and cities in Oregon due to its ornamental qualities and because it is tough and durable in the landscape.

Acer triflorum

Acer mandshuricum

Acer mandshuricum

Acer maximowiczianum

Acer x 'Cinnamon Flake'

Because of my initial success with A. griseum I naturally moved into the realm of Acer triflorum, a northeast China native with whitish-gray bark that exfoliates in a different manner than A. griseum. You will find A. triflorum in snob gardens and arboreta, but seldom will you see it in a typical home landscape. Even more rare in the Trifoliata section is Acer mandshuricum, the Manchurian maple. Its bark is dark brown and rough, but not exfoliating like the previous two. My older specimen is one of my first maples to leaf out in spring and one of the earliest to display its wonderful orange-red autumn foliage. So I like A. mandshuricum, but my customers don't know it, or even want to know about it. The related Acer maximowiczianum is doomed because of its cumbersome name, non-exfoliating bark and eventual large size. The cross of A. max. with A. griseum has yielded A. x. 'Cinnamon Flake', and that is a novelty that I can sell a few each year.

Acer micranthum

Peter Gregory

Whether or not a species is included in the Flora Wonder Arboretum is solely up to me – if I admire or am interested in it, then it's in, and I don't care if I have a market for it or not. I'm not on a mission to convert anyone, but one species that I feel should be commercial, but it is not, is Acer micranthum. So-named for having small flowers, it blooms in May in pendant clusters. The seed that develops is the smallest in the Acer genus and they turn pinkish-red in autumn. A. micranthum is at least as hardy as A. palmatum, and the former forms a slow-growing small tree with dainty green leaves in summer, and brilliant red foliage in fall. It roots readily as soft wood cuttings in summer, or can be grafted on any species in the Macrantha section (such as A. davidii). I fell in love with A. micranthum when I saw a beautiful specimen in England's Westonbirt Arboretum* on a drizzly October day. It glowed red in the gloom and was further adorned with pink jewel-like fruits. It was my first visit to Westonbirt, and author and Maple Society President, Peter Gregory, led the tour. When we came to the A. micranthum Peter stopped and just stood there smiling with great affection, just as you do with a beautiful and interesting woman, letting the maple speak for herself.

*An excellent photo of the Westonbirt tree can be seen on page 198 of DeBeaulieu's book, An Illustrated Guide to Maples.

Acer pentaphyllum

Acer pentaphyllum

Joseph Rock

The rare Chinese species Acer pentaphyllum was introduced to cultivation by T.T. Yu in 1937 according to The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs 2014. However in the DeBeaulieu An Illustrated Guide to Maples, credit of discovery is given to Joseph Rock in 1929. In 1978 Vertrees in Japanese Maples (1^st edition) says that “seeds were first collected by J. Rock (Rock #17819) in the Szechuan Province along the Yalung River....A plant from Rock's seed is growing at the Strybing Arboretum in San Francisco, California.* All plants in cultivation in the United States have originated from that tree.” That statement was probably true in 1978, but I know that it is no longer so.

*I tried to pay homage to the Strybing tree but was told by staff that it no longer existed.

Then I learned that one plant, presumably a seedling offspring from the original tree in America, could be seen at the Western Hills Rare Plant Nursery in Occidental, California. The nursery and garden used to be a destination for serious gardeners, having been founded by plantsmen Lester Hawkins and Marshall Olbrich in 1960. Since I struck out at the Strybing I drove to Occidental and found the nursery still in operation, but now run by an Englishwoman. I toured the grounds and found a lot of interesting plants, although I didn't find the old Acer pentaphyllum. However there were a number of them in small pots on a bench in the sales area. I asked the woman if they were grown from cuttings – which I was doing at the time – but she responded that they were seedlings. I said that I missed the mother tree, where is it? She pointed straight up – we were standing right under it! Its canopy was a broad umbrella-shape with the branches pruned up, so possibly I could have walked under it a hundred times before noticing the distinctive five narrow-lobed leaves. Fortunately the garden has been preserved since the nursery closed in 2010, and as the Western Hills Garden you can tour it on Tuesdays and Thursdays for $10 per person.

Acer pentaphyllum seed

I was prompted into rehashing the A. pentaphyllum story because yesterday I noticed seed on my largest specimen. The problem with the species is that it is too tender to grow outside in Oregon, and even though I have been growing it for over 30 years, once a tree reaches the top of the greenhouse I sell it to someone in California. My current specimen is about 12 years old, and its amazing vigor is due to being grafted on “red maple” rootstock, Acer rubrum. Years ago I planted this combination into the garden, and the following winter we experienced a low of 5 degrees F. By July I determined that the pentaphyllum was as dead as a doornail, although rubrum rootstock sprouted from the base. I was hopeful that the hardy rubrum would impart a hardy boost to the pentaphyllum top, but not so, or at least not enough. I would encourage the next owner of the Flora Wonder Arboretum – once I croak – to be a plantsman of means and immediately construct a two-storied conservatory to house the pentaphyllum.

Acer calcaratum

Acer calcaratum new growth in August

Another tender – and rare – Chinese species, Acer calcaratum, is also housed in the pentaphyllum's greenhouse, and it too nears the top. The species grows in low-land rainforests of Yunnan, Myanmar, Thailand and Vietnam. The specific name calcaratum is from calcarate, and that from Latin calcar meaning spurred. I've not noticed my tree in flower or in seed, so I'm not sure what part is “spurred.” certainly it's not the tri-lobed leaves which resemble an Acer buergerianum on steroids. The best part is the reddish new growth which my specimen showed off in spring, and is now showing off again. I foresee no market for A. calcaratum, but for fun I will try to graft it on another species – maybe A. pseudoplatanus.

Acer forrestii

I notice that DeBeaulieu doesn't list A. calcaratum, nor does he list A. forrestii, and the leaves of these two species resemble each other somewhat. His Illustrated Guide to Maples is sparse with synonyms, and without re-reading his entire book I don't know where he “lumps” the two species. Even though I can write a blog on obscure Asian maple species, I really don't know them that well myself. I have seen a number of maples in the Himalayan foothills, “foothills” meaning below 10,000' in altitude, and in spring they can be beautiful with reddish-to-chocolate-brown new growth. Since they generally aren't hardy in Oregon I never felt compelled to bring them home.

Acer oliverianum

Acer oliverianum was named by German botanist Ferdinand Albin Pax in 1889 to honor English botanist Daniel Oliver, an example where plant experts can overcome national differences in the pursuit of science. The Chinese species forms a strong-growing tree with a wide canopy at maturity. It looks like a vigorous form of Acer palmatum, and in fact A. oliverianum is in the Palmata section and is graft-compatible with A. palmatum. One Japanese nurseryman whispered a secret to me, even though he was alone with just me and my wife, that when using A. oliverianum as rootstock, the variegated cultivars of palmatum would produce more coloration. I doubt that he, or anyone in Japan, reads the Flora Wonder Blog, so what's the harm to now present his theory? I tried A. oliverianum myself as rootstock, but my variegates looked pretty much the same as with palmatum. After three years the cultivars were either sold or mixed in with the others so I can't report beyond that. One concern would be A. oliverianum's hardiness – more or less than palmatum? – and I suspect that coming from central China it would be less.

Acer pycnanthum

Acer pycnanthum is a Japanese species that is closely related to America's Acer rubrum. I used to assume that the specific epithet was a corrupt spelling of Latin pyra, which is from Greek pura for “hearth,” from pur for “fire.” That assumption was because A. pycnanthum, like A. rubrum, begins the spring with red flowers before leaves appear, then finishes in fall with blazing red foliage. But wrong – the name is derived from Latin pycnanthus for “having flowers in dense clusters.” The maple is somewhat rare, growing in a limited mountainous area of Nagano on Honshu Island. My girlfriend (at the time) Haruko was surprised but pleased that I had a specimen in the Arboretum, and perhaps that is why she agreed to marry me. She graduated from the University of Tokyo's landscape architecture department, and she remembers in her plant ID class that her favorite professor beamed with pride when he pointed out the only specimen of A. pycnanthum on campus. Haruko aced her class, then hurried to America for nuptial bliss.

Acer sieboldianum

Acer sieboldianum

Acer sieboldianum 'Kumoi nishiki'

Acer sieboldianum 'Sode no uchi'

Philipp von Siebold

Kusumoto Ine

Acer sieboldianum – I don't have the straight species in my collection, but a nice tree is growing at the nearby Rhododendron Species Garden in Washington state. “Siebold's maple” of course honors Philipp von Siebold, the German physician and botanist who introduced numerous flora of Japan into Europe, and who also kick-started the introduction of Western medicine into Japan. Naturally he was attracted to Japanese women and he married one; I can certainly relate to that. He fathered Kusumoto Ine who went on to become the first female Japanese doctor, then court physician to the Japanese Empress. Siebold's maple is compatible with Acer palmatum as rootstock, and I grow the cultivars 'Kumoi nishiki', 'Mikasa yama', 'Sode no uchi' and the spreading, semi-weeping 'Seki no kegon'. To the casual observer – and me too – A. sieboldianum resembles Acer palmatum, although I haven't studied the former's sexual expression. I agree with Hillier that sieboldianum is a “small tree or large shrub,” but then the comparison with Acer japonicum: “similar in ornamental merit...but with flowers yellow, not red...” seems to be a strange description since they look so different. Am I similar to a duck because we both have wide feet? Furthermore, M. Yano in Book for Maples lists the 'Sode no uchi' cultivar as belonging to the Acer tenuifolium species. Again, I don't know the Asian Acer species expertly; and if I did I would only end up arguing with other botanists, as they are a most contentious group. For example, DeBeaulieu doesn't even list tenuifolium as a species.

Acer pseudosieboldianum

In any case botanists should probably be outlawed from naming plants. The Japanese Acer sieboldianum was first described by Dutch botanist Miquel and then the German botanist Ferdinand Albin Pax in 1904 coined the specific name Acer pseudosieboldianum for the similar species from Korea, China and Manchuria. I really don't like pseudo for any botanic name because if it's really a separate entity then let it's name stand on its own and not be “like” or “false” something else. If a Pseudotsuga is not a true hemlock then don't allay its name to what is different. The worst plant name in horticulture is Acer japonicum 'Aconitifolium', rendered since its leaves resemble the Aconitum genus. The Japanese don't use the crappy Latin cultivar name, rather they prefer Maiku jaku or “dancing peacock.” Anyway A. pseudosieboldianum differs from A. sieboldianum because the former comes from a different locale (and is more winter hardy) and because the leaves are larger. Myself, I couldn't tell you the identity of an older A. sieboldianum, A. pseudosieboldianum, or even A. shirasawanum if asked to do so. In fact I have attended Maple Society events where the world's botanists squabble about the specific identity of a tree. I never take the bait and offer my opinion because it wouldn't be “valid” anyway. Frequently, so as not to come to blows, they throw up their arms and proclaim the tree to probably be a hybrid anyway...then move on to the next argument.

Acer pubipalmatum

Most of us maple collectors wouldn't know the difference between Acer palmatum and Acer pubipalmatum, and pubipalmatum at best would just seem to be a variety of palmatum. DeBeaulieu is a splitter in this case and gives pubipalmatum specific rank while Hillier doesn't mention the species at all. If you look closely you will see some minor differences, and indeed pubipalmatum has finely hairy leaves. Besides the pubescent leaves, pubipalmatum usually has seven lobes with the middle lobe a little longer and pointing sharply.* It is also a stronger grower and somewhat less dense than palmatum, and besides it is native to China, not Japan. One could say that this Chinese maple is less refined than the Japanese maple, and to be politically incorrect, my Japanese father-in-law would say the same about the people.

Acer pubipalmatum 'Flying Daggers'

*The cultivar Acer pubipalmatum 'Flying Daggers' has small leaves with more-narrow and pointed lobes than the type. A Mr. Maple selection from North Carolina.

Acer pauciflorum

Another palmatum look-alike is Acer pauciflorum, but it is not listed in either DeBeaulieu's or Hillier's book. My source for the “Few-Flowered maple” was Heritage Seedlings and it was offered in their 2013-2014 wholesale catalog. According to Heritage, “Almost unknown in the West, these are among the first of seedlings to be offered in the U.S. Closely related to Japanese maple, it is reported to be more drought and cold tolerant than A. palmatum....Try a few and join us in an extensive field trial.” Ok, I fell for the pitch and now I have some 7' healthy-looking green-leaved trees. I'll keep a few away from sales with the intention of rooting cuttings from them. If that goes well I'll use them as understock and conduct a trial to see if it does improve plants with “more drought and cold tolerance.” Or rather, I won't trial. To really do it right would take at least half a career, and I'm well on the downside of mine. Besides it would take input from other growers from around the country to determine if A. pauciflorum would make an improved rootstock. Hey young Man, why don't you do the trial?