Hot Diggity Dog

For the most part my employees are not focused on the weather, none of them. To be sure, they don't like it too hot or too cold or too rainy, but whatever it is they just deal with the situation. Spring has now evolved into summer with its high 90 degrees F temperatures, but they adjust by tossing a couple of extra energy drinks into their lunch bags. None of them are aware, for example, of my sigh of relief on May 15^th when the threat of a damaging spring frost has passed. They get paid anyway...so why should they care? They aren't aware that a weekend swelter, and its management, is integral to the survival of the company, and though most don't harbor any particular ill-will against me, they all know that if I goof it up with bad decisions, or if we set a scalding heat record, they will still have a job with me or someone else. It's understandable numbness, understandable dumbness. In a way it's a sad situation because if I don't prosper neither do they, but they're not programmed to look at it that way. Even my wife and kids don't get the survival anxiety I go through every day.

Ok, I know that none of you want to hear about my medical situations, my dreams last night or what worries me in the day. To you I'm just Plant-Guy and you probably think that I have it pretty good. 40 years in business with beautiful landscaped grounds full of maples, conifers and other wonderful companion plants...just stand back and watch them all grow, right? But remember, the irrigation pump doesn't conk out when it's 65 degrees in April, rather it waits until it's 95 degrees in June, and the distress occurs on a Sunday when there's nobody available to address the problem. My chubby nursery-owner neighbor came from a soft-hands banking world, and his passion and hobby was politics, not plants. His hands may have been dirty, but it wasn't from soil, and consequently he went bankrupt. Nobody in the neighborhood or in the nursery industry misses him, nor would they miss me if I too pooped my pants.

Acer shirasawanum 'Sensu'

But, I shouldn't be so fretful and negative. It's hot, but at 7 PM we are treated to a nice breeze. Sixteen years ago, B.C. (Before Children), my wife and I went outside for a stroll on a hot-June evening. The best description of Dear H. is that, while not childish, she is child-like. She responds to people and her world with true happiness and gleeful energy. She delighted in the fluttering maple leaves of an unnamed seedling of a hybrid of Acer palmatum with an Acer shirasawanum which I planted near our home. She uttered a name: 'Sensu', Japanese for a “moving fan.” Ok – 'Sensu'! – I pounced, for I was also fascinated with the tree and wanted to name it, and I figured that her officiality gave me license to name, propagate and distribute its offspring. I have sold at least 2,000 'Sensu' from my nursery alone, but imagine all of the others that have been grown without my input...er, output, and though it is not the most dazzling maple cultivar ever, it remains one of my favorite. So thank you dear.

Ok, back to theme: it's June hot. Again. I really don't like dogs, sorry – I just don't – except for my mutt Sammy, and since nobody else is at home I am his care-giver. “Outside, outside?” I ask, and yep, he springs a back-flip in anticipation to go out and piss on the lawn. Then he struts around the yard, making sure to mark his ground against any raccoons and coyotes that might attempt to displace him. Thanks, Sammy...and I praise him with “Good Pup, good pup,” even though he is 11 years old, over 70 years of age in dog terms – older than me.

Quercus garryana

While Sammy is doing his business I gaze out at my home landscape. My front door opens to the south-view of an enormous Quercus garryana, the “Oregon oak,” and I am humbled to live next to one of the largest of its species in the world.

Hydrangea macrophylla 'Pia'

Near the base of the oak is the dwarf Hydrangea macrophylla 'Pia'. The specific name macrophylla means “big leaf,” except that they aren't so large for 'Pia', and epithets such as macrophylla, microphylla, parviflora etc. are not really appropriate because they're all relative. We used to propagate 'Pia' and I sold them in a consignment situation with a garden cooperative. One day I got a phone call from Crystal who was the new manager of the garden group. She was distressed to inform me that my 'Pia' was not true-to-name, and proof was that was that they were 34” tall, when the internet said that they would be only 30” or shorter. The stock plant that I was looking at is currently 30” tall at 20 years of age and it is absolutely true to name. Crystal, with glitter smeared on her eye lids, announced that I had to come and get the wrong hydrangeas or they would dispose them because they had to protect the integrity of their company and could not be known as untrustworthy with plant names. I responded by saying they were in fact 'Pia', and if you think they're too tall, just prune them. They were in containers, located in a greenhouse, and with water and fertilizer they had stretched...which can happen with any dwarf. Crystal, with her two months in the nursery business, was not to be outdone and certainly not by a man, even though I had over thirty years in the trade with a national reputation for being Plant-Name-Guy who can and should be trusted. I stood firm while the plants were dumped, and soon thereafter I exited from the plant group. We no longer grow the 'Pia' due to Ms. Crystal-lids and her snotty attitude, nevertheless it is a wonderful cultivar.

Picea glauca 'Pendula'

Carpinus betulus 'Columnaris Nana'

Off to my left are three trees that I cherish: Picea glauca 'Pendula', Cornus kousa 'Ohkan', and a Carpinus betulus 'Columnaris Nana' which is about 10' tall. The problem is that they're too close to each other. The spruce cultivar is one of the largest in the world, so it's not going anywhere. The Carpinus is my original tree and it looks particularly regal in spring, so I'll leave it alone for a couple more years, and who knows, maybe I won't be here after that anyway. The 'Ohkan' dogwood was a gift from Akira Shibamichi in Japan. He sent to me a number of wonderful plants such as a weeping Styrax japonicus with pink flowers, a variegated Daphniphyllum macropodum and a weeping Stewartia monadelpha. I didn't ask for anything which is how you should be polite, as no Japanese nurseryman wants to deal with an Ugly American. Also, if truth be known, he was generous because he was smitten with my impressive wife.

Cornus kousa 'Ohkan'

The C.k. 'Ohkan' is variegated exactly like the patented Cornus kousa 'Summer Gold', and for all I know they're one and the same because 'Summer Gold' entered the trade at about the same time. Plant Haven International, the East coast patent meisters, says that 'Summer Gold' “has much better summer variegation than other C. Kousa [sic] selections.” Nope, it's not better than 'Ohkan' because they're the same. Besides, Cornus kousa 'Summer Fun' beats the hell out of 'Ohkan' or 'Summer Gold' or whatever you want to call it. Elsewhere Plant Haven says, “In early spring this elegant tree ['Summer Gold'] is a mass of four pedaled [sic] bracts.” Maybe it's just me, but I've never seen pedals on a dogwood.

Acer palmatum 'Tiger Rose'

Sammy loves to be outside in the evening of a hot day, and after trotting around for awhile he lays down on the warm grass. I stand at the doorway, waiting, but he wins the stare-down contest so I sit on the front steps to give the old guy more time. To my right is probably the largest Acer palmatum 'Tiger Rose' in the world. The late Dr. Bump of Forest Grove, Oregon, discovered the reticulated seedling from the parent tree of 'Azuma murasaki' and he named it for his wife Rosemary who he called “Rose.” I never did hear why he “tigered” part of the name, but maybe the prominent veins are like stripes on a tiger? I cut one scion from the doctor's 1 gallon tree while he stood and watched. There was at least three scions available but I didn't want to be greedy, and thankfully the one scion took. For some reason I planted my original start in front of the house – probably too close – and it is thriving in full sun. As I write this we are expecting record temperatures for the date, so we'll see how 'Tiger Rose' will fare.

Calycanthus x 'Hartlage Wine'

Next to the 'Tiger Rose' is Calycanthus x 'Hartlage Wine'. I'm not quite sure how to render the botanic name since it was an intrageneric cross of Sinocalycanthus chinensis, a redundant name, with the American species Calycanthus floridus. Sometimes it is given the specific name of x raulstonii because student Richard Hartlage performed the cross at the JC Raulston Arboretum at North Carolina State University in 1991. The flowers are wonderful but the multi-branched and suckering shrub is a beast that I must prune at least twice a year, otherwise it and 'Tiger Rose' would fight for space. As I gaze at it now, I realize that it was poorly sited and will have to be transplanted elsewhere. At the time my objective was to place the “allspice” close to home so my wife could enjoy it. I have two long roads that lead to my house, and I'm very mindful of what I plant, with pleasing H being my primary concern. Like a peacock strutting his feathers to show off, I'm just mediocre-looking, but I use fantastic plants to impress her.

Edgeworthia chrysantha 'Gold Rush'

One such plant that is near the front door is Edgeworthia chrysantha 'Gold Rush'. The “Chinese paperbush” has a cultivar name that is overused, what with there being a Metasequoia and a Sciadopitys also named 'Gold Rush'. I don't suppose that “sunshine” would be a good name, but when the Edgeworthia is in bloom in late winter there are no leaves in the way, and its appearance is as welcome as the golden sun.

Bletilla striata 'Ogon'

Behind the 'Gold Rush' is a little planting of Bletilla striata 'Ogon', and the purple orchid flowers rise above the yellow leaves, a delightful combination. The plants receive PM shade and I've never tried the cultivar in full sun at the nursery. Bletilla is a cinch to grow in western Oregon, except with its zone 7 (0 degrees F) hardiness being the only limitation. The genus received its name because the terrestrial orchid resembles the genus Bletia, although Bletilla is native to China and eastern Asia, while Bletia is a New World genus. Bletia is also an orchid, but you don't see it in landscapes because of a lack of winter hardiness. The specific epithet for Bletilla striata is from Latin striatum, and hmm..., medically speaking striatum is a striped mass of white and gray matter in the brain which controls movement and balance. The striatum is the largest structure of the basal ganglia, but I'll have to study my hardy ground-orchid further to see what had caused the brain-part comparison.

Mahonia x 'Apollo'

Mahonia aquifolium is an attractive evergreen shrub, while the cultivar 'Apollo' is a nice improvement upon the species. My plant is compact and dense and it's a wonderful butterball of yellow blossoms in spring. When not in flower one can admire the glossy dark-green leaves borne on reddish stems. Remember, the specific epithet aquifolium has nothing to do with water (aqua), but rather refers to the barbed hook at the end of the leaf – like an eagle's beak – aquila in Latin. The Mahonia is Oregon's state flower, though I've never been asked to vote on the matter, and it is commonly called “Oregon grape.” The berries are edible but tartly sour. My grandmother used to make Oregon grape jelly which was delicious, but then I was more of a sugar consumer back then. Even now I will put a ripe berry in my mouth, like while on a hike, and I slowly nibble on it for a few minutes before spitting it all out. My hiking partners don't understand the appeal, but a small amount of juice on the tongue is actually quite invigorating. Five berries in a 12 oz. smoothie would be about perfect. Well, maybe just three.

Acer palmatum 'Ornatum'

I bought Flora Farm sixteen years ago and relandscaped the entire yard. I edited a Betula pendula and a huge Robinia pseudoacacia, and good riddance to those two old-fashioned farm trees. One laceleaf maple was kept, as well as the massive oak, but nothing else. I like a blank canvas with the freedom to plant whatever I want. I remember the late Jim Schmidt had a back yard of entirely maple cultivars with grass paths between them. Apparently someone told Jim his landscape couldn't consist of only maples, as if that wouldn't look right. Jim said, “Why not?” From his deck you could look down and see his colorful yard, and I agreed with Jim – why not? But it was too late for me to copy him for I had already planted other bushes in my ground. The laceleaf that I kept from the previous owner is almost certainly the old cultivar 'Ornatum', but since I don't know that for sure I have never propagated from it, and besides I probably wouldn't even if I was certain because I doubt that there would be a market for it. According to Vertrees/Gregory in Japanese Maples, “This very old cultivar from Europe has been popular because of its reliability and the rather distinctive foliage color [brown-red]. As other selections of deeper tones were made that retained their color better, its popularity waned somewhat.” Well, it “waned” a lot, not “somewhat,” and now Acer palmatums 'Red Dragon' and 'Tamuke yama' are vastly more preferred.

Picea breweriana

At the southeast and southwest corners of the lawn are two Picea breweriana, and they somewhat anchor the back edge of the landscape. On foggy or rainy days they loom broodingly, but this evening they appear more cheerful in the sideways PM light. The species is not impossible to grow on its own roots, but it is difficult and often unsuccessful because it evolved on the lean serpentine soils of southwest Oregon and northwest California. My two specimens, however, are grafted onto Picea abies, the accommodating “Norway spruce,” and they may be the largest grafted P. breweriana in the country. Purists, such as snob employees of various arboreta, prefer the species on its own roots, but good luck with that, good luck with P. breweriana's survival. You lose none of the integrity, the lovely weeping characteristic of the species when it's grafted onto Picea abies, in fact it accelerates the growth and ornamental value much more quickly. So, “Go Norway,” I say.

The best part of the landscape of my front yard is the H. & S. playhouse, built when they were teeny tykes. By the way, I am cryptic with their names because both are beauties and the internet is full of creeps. I'm somewhat creepy too, that's why I can relate to their situation. They have spent a lot of fun time in their playhouse, especially when accompanied by their brother, sisters, friends and mother.

Sammy is still contentedly lying on the ground as I look out at my world, still grinning at me with his dog-smile. Robins are singing, doves are cooing and oops, a squirrel just ran past the old oak tree and the dog wasn't aware of it. I can finally relax; we set a temperature record for the day but we survived it, and thanks to all who help.

Hot diggity dog – life is good!

Cultivar Names

I know a lot about plants, but most I don't know, so I can probably learn for the rest of my life. In The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2014), we're promised that "The study of botanical plant names is fascinating and rewarding." We learn that generic "names" are always nouns, while a specific "epithet" is used rather than a "name" because, unlike generic names, species will not stand on their own.

Wollemia nobilis

Xanthocyparis vietnamensis

Ok then, specific epithets, the origin of species...Darwin's thing. How do we cubbyhole this world? The Learned of yore were almost always men with a penchant for Latin. The specific epithets can describe the leaves, like coriacea; the flowers, as with grandiflora; the color, as with lutea etc. Epithets can reveal the geographic origin of a plant, such as vietnamensis for the recently discovered Xanthocyparis vietnamensis, or have been used to commemorate an individual such as Wollemi nobilis, which honors David Noble, the Australian who discovered the rare conifer genus. I doubt, however, that the defining epithets that have been finalized would be the same as I would have used if I was the naming botanist. I wonder if the old geezers decided a specific name immediately after seeing the plant or a herbarium specimen, or if they took time to mull it over, say perhaps with input from the wife, neighbor or colleges.

Acer palmatum 'Bloody Talons' in spring (left) and in fall (right)

Since I will never be a botanist, and since I will probably never discover a species, any plant name I give will have to be for a cultivar (cultivated variant). The problem with nurserymen or hobbyists naming plants is that knuckleheads are welcome to the club. Because of that we have some rather goofy names such as 'Ikandi', 'Geisha Gone Wild', 'Bloody Talons' etc. For the latter – 'Bloody Talons', not etc. – the strange leaves display vivid-red autumn color that actually do resemble bloody talons. But if you find the name goofy you can blame my office manager Eric – I didn't name it – although I am responsible for 'Ikandi' and 'Geisha Gone Wild'.

Picea pungens 'Donkey Dick'

The worst cultivar name of all time, thankfully not coined by me, is probably 'Donkey Dick' for a mutation on a Colorado spruce, because it was explained to me: "It just hung there." I kept a few around for a couple of years then threw them all out because I couldn't have a plant – unsellable – with a name like that just hanging out here.

Rhododendron 'Gomer Waterer'

Betty Buchholz

George Sherriff

I have expressed before that cultivars named for people are generally a bad idea. I don't know, but there is probably a rose named 'Queen Elizabeth' or 'Lady Diana', or 'Cleopatra' or 'Pocahontas' etc...and I guess that is ok, but a name like 'Arthur Hillier', 'Albert Edwards' or 'Andersonii' – no matter how great the rose – is absolutely a crappy name. The first nursery I worked for grew Rhododendron 'Gomer Waterer', and if you knew the history of the English company and the person it was named for you could probably accept it, but otherwise it's a dumb plant name. I like Rosa 'Betty Sherriff' better because it was probably introduced from Bhutan where I travelled 20 years ago, and because it honors the wife of the Scottish Himalayan plant explorer George Sherriff who I idolize. Also, I'm obviously partial to women names, more than men's, and I imagine that the name Betty would be apt for my happy wife if she was from England or America.

Rhododendron 'Marchioness of Lansdowne'

Rhododendron 'Winsome'

Sappho

The cultivar name for the hybrid Rhododendron, 'Marchioness of Lansdowne' is absolutely too pompous. Period. Great plant though. Give me instead R. 'Sappho' or R. 'Winsome' – two names I love. A good part of garden enjoyment I think is due to the name of the plant you put into your soil. The word winsome is derived from Old English wynsum for "pleasure, delight," and that from the Proto-Indo-European root wen for "to desire, strive for." Its unusual blossom color was achieved by crossing R. griersonianum with R. Humming Bird Group, which is why 'Winsome' itself should be identified as Winsome Group. R. 'Sappho' is named from Greek Psappho who was an Archaic poet from the island of Lesbos. She was known for her lyric poetry which was to be sung while accompanied by lyre – my kind of girl.

Cercis canadensis 'Pink Heartbreaker'

There are a lot of "Eastern redbud" cultivars entering into the trade in recent years. Though the name of Cercis canadensis 'Pink Heartbreaker' is not my kind of name, still I like and grow the tree. I can't propagate it as it is patented, so I buy my trees from another nursery and grow them to larger sizes. It works out for me because my niche is to grow trees no one else has, i.e. trees that are new or in larger sizes than other companies; oh, and also, trees of better quality.

Styrax japonicus 'Evening Light'

We also purchase young trees of the patented Styrax japonicus 'Evening Light', and that's a cultivar name I truly like. It is a wonderful selection due to dark purple foliage which highlights the pure-white nodding flowers which are fragrant. Supposedly this upright, narrow selection from Europe is able to tolerate extreme temperatures, well, to at least USDA zone 5 (-20 F). Of course I gripe when trees are patented and I can't propagate them. It's better if a tree totally begins at Buchholz Nursery where I can control its appearance. Our trees have a "Buchholz look," and the last thing I want for them is to look like they came from another's nursery.

Cornus kousa 'Summer Fun'

Damn right!

My source of 'Evening Light' is also my source for a few other patented trees which are worth growing, in fact 90% of their product is patented. Nevertheless they grow thousands of my Cornus kousa 'Summer Fun' where I receive no royalty from them. Generally I'm anti-patent and have never done it; to me it's like prostituting nature, and I know my muse Flora is against it also.

Acer pseudosieboldianum ssp. takesimense

From the same company I will purchase a few Acer x 'Northern Glow'. Nice name, though it too is patented. It is a hybrid of Acer pseudosieboldianum x Acer palmatum 'Hasselkus', where the A. pseudosieboldianum blood will give the Japanese maple an extra zone of hardiness. I was on the ground floor with the hybridization using A. pseudosieboldianum with palmatum and japonicum, where I provided my nursery propagation skills with a Dr. S., then working at the Morton Arboretum in Chicago. The understanding, or my understanding anyway, was that I would be viewed favorably when it would come to the licensing rights to grow the hybrids. Dr. S. stood me up when she moved on to Wisconsin , and nobody ever thanked me for the trouble I went to. Now big companies who can sell a lot are given the right to peddle plants such as 'Northern Glow', with the royalty payments going back to the university. Once again: prostituting plants with a patent. My purpose to buy a few to grow on is to judge for myself if it is worth having besides the extra winter hardiness; otherwise screw everybody else who was involved.

Abies koreana 'Ice Breaker'

Abies koreana 'Ice Breaker'

Abies koreana 'Ice Breaker' (or 'Icebreaker')* was discovered as a witch's broom on A.k. 'Silberlocke' by Jorge Kohout of Eastern Germany. I grew it for a number of years before I learned that the German prefers it to be called 'Kohout's Icebreaker'. Groooan, great plant but who needs Kohout's name added to it? Thank god it wasn't patented and it is now available across America and Europe. I don't know how large Kohout's original propagations are, but I planted seven trees on a mound. In about three years from now, they will all grow into each other, then I'll have the largest "one" in the world.

*The RHS Encyclopedia of Conifers lists it as 'Ice Breaker', two words.

Abies balsamea 'Eugene's Yellow'

For Abies balsamea 'Eugene's Yellow' I suppose that Eugene's name is necessary because 'Yellow' alone would be an uninspiring cultivar name. We grow a Picea abies 'Yellow', and although a nice spruce it doesn't sell very well. 'Eugene's Yellow' is very slow-growing, and like with many Abies dwarves, it tends to grow into a spreading form when young before growing upward. The photo above is the largest plant I have seen, and it is growing in the conifer wonderland at the arboretum of Porterhowse Farm in Sandy, Oregon. For production purposes we grow ours in shade, and try to stake a leader when young, but the Porterhowse tree is placed in full sun and surprisingly it takes the heat quite well.

Acer palmatum 'Lileeanne's Jewel'

Acer palmatum 'Rainbow'

Acer palmatum 'Lileeanne's Jewel' is perfectly described by MrMaple.com as a "brand new introduction with a rare variegation of pink and white on a bright cherry red and heavily divided leaf." Later MrMaple adds, "This selection is fairly heat tolerant as it has handled the sun of Simpsonville, SC without burn to the variegation." It was found as a chance seedling by Johnathon Savelich and named after this daughter Lileeanne. Sadly the pretty name – and I would love to see the daughter – was butchered into 'Little Anne's Jewel' by a long-time mail-order company from South Carolina, and I would be hopping mad if they flubbed my daughter's name. Fortunately the cultivar is less likely to revert to entirely purple foliage than my variegated Acer palmatum 'Rainbow', at least in my nursery.

Acer palmatum 'Red Whisper'

Acer palmatum 'Fairy Hair in autumn'

Acer palmatum 'Fairy Hair in autumn'

Buchholz Nursery introduced Acer palmatum 'Fairy Hair' about thirty years ago and our largest specimen now produces seed. Most of the seedlings will germinate with regular palmatum leaves – which eventually become rootstock – but a few will be 'Fairy Hair' look-alikes. Since we don't know who is pollinating whom we're hoping to find a red version of 'Fairy Hair'. The most red so far was 'Red Whisper' which displayed a whisper of red. I use the past tense because sadly the original seedling died before I could propagate it, so the cultivar exists no more. I'm sure there's a huge number of potential cultivars that meet the same fate, and some would say "good" and attribute it to the survival of the fittest. But don't despair because 'Fairy Hair' puts on an amazing display of red in the autumn.

Acer palmatum 'Inaba shidare'

Let's see, how many maples do I grow where "red" begins the cultivar name? Not 'Red Whisper' anymore, but I grow Acer palmatums 'Red Baron', 'Red Blush', 'Red Cloud', 'Red Dragon', 'Red Emperor', 'Red Falcon', 'Red Feathers', 'Red Filigree Lace', 'Red Flash', 'Red Pygmy', 'Red Saber', 'Red Spider', 'Red Wonder' and 'Red Wood', so maybe 'Red Whisper' felt too crowded. Sometimes the red word comes at the end of the name, as with 'Rhode Island Red', 'Wetumpka Red' and 'Select Red'. The latter, 'Select Red', is of Dutch origin and I never found out who selected it. It doesn't matter because I don't propagate it at all. A large order of Acer palmatum cultivars from a Boskoop, Holland nursery sent Acer palmatum 'Inaba shidare' to the American nursery where I began my career. When the maples were planted out I noticed a few labels that read 'Select Red' which were mixed in with the 'Inaba shidare'. Calling Holland, calling Holland. The Dutch broker responsible for the shipment no doubt ran short and mixed in 'Select Red', figuring that the horticulturally inferior Americans would never know the difference. He probably gulped hard that the Dutch nursery had overlooked the removal of 'Select Red' labels, damn it! My American nursery was told that they were the same, that 'Select Red' was the English translation of the Japanese name 'Inaba shidare'. Not so, and besides I have the two planted next to each other, and while they look alike in spring, by mid summer you can see that 'Inaba shidare' retains its deep color better. So, shame on the Dutchman. Question: where was copper wire invented? Answer: Holland, with two Dutchman fighting over a penny.

Pinus mugo 'Mr. Wood'

The late plantsman Edsal Wood of Oregon grew thousands of conifers and maples from seed, and he used to be an important supplier to bonsai aficionados. But the fun for him was to find the odd and different. He was also very generous, and once when I visited he handed me a tiny pine seedling which was blue, and said, "Take this little Pinus mugo home to try it." I thanked him, although I was sure that it was a Pinus parviflora, not P. mugo. However when I returned I examined it closely and the miniscule needles were in fascicles of two instead of the five for a P. parviflora, so old Ed was right. I temporarily named it 'Mr. Wood' when I began to propagate it, but that was never intended to be the official cultivar name. But I gave away or sold some propagules as 'Mr. Wood', so it was too late to choose a different name. Meanwhile I wasn't aware that a sister seedling was given to Larry of Stanley and Sons Nursery which looked identical. Larry chose a better cultivar name for his miniature, 'Fish Hook', because the short needles had a slight curve. Many have assumed that 'Fish Hook' and 'Mr. Wood' are synonymous, but they can't be as they are separate seedlings, no matter how much they look alike. Even the Royal Horticultural Society's publication of Encyclopedia of Conifers jumps to the conclusion that they're synonymous, and I was even accused by one conifer grower as renaming 'Fish Hook' so I could sell a "new" cultivar. Listen, I can be an asshole at times, especially since I'm a mirror of who you are, but I'm certainly not a cad.

Picea pungens 'Blue Stoplight'

Picea pungens 'Sester's Dwarf'

Cultivar names are so important when marketing plants of course. Sight unseen, if you could have Picea pungens 'Blue Stoplight' in your garden or Picea pungens 'Sester's Dwarf' you would likely choose the former based on the name. The latter cultivar is the better plant though. If your daughter announced that she was getting married but you didn't know the groom, you would cringe if his name was Alibaba Muhammed instead of say, Bill Clinton. Wait – not him either! And you would prohibit the marriage if his name was Donkey Dick. Right?

Santolina virens 'Lemon Fizz'

Pinus uncinata 'Krauskopf'

Taxodium distichum 'Gee Wiz'

We namers should be thoughtful and careful, but it's ok to have a little fun. For example, 'Lemon Fizz' is a fun, happy name for a Santolina virens. 'Krauskopf' wouldn't impress you unless you knew the German name meant "curly head," as the dense bun displays curled needles. 'Gee Wiz' for a dwarf Taxodium distichum is more humorous when you know it was selected and named by Gary Gee of Gee Farms in Michigan...and you picture him taking a leak behind a tree in his arboretum.

Metasequoia glyptostroboides 'Miss Grace'

I've had fun with names, but I do regret many of my choices. You can judge for yourself if my plant names are any good by going to Our Plants on our website, then click on Buchholz Introductions.