Flora Wonder Blog

Acer palmatum 'Umegae'

Part of the fun of collecting plants with Japanese names is trying to figure out what the words mean. We saw last week that Acer palmatum 'Umegae' means “branch of the plum tree,” and my Japanese wife declared so when she saw the characters, as the English rendition is not always enough. My employees are both Hispanic and Caucasian, yet they all spout Japanese throughout the day when they propagate, pot up and fulfill orders, and it's necessary because half of my nursery cultivars are Japanese named.

Acer palmatum 'Manyo no sato'

Peter Gregory

The late English author Peter Gregory said that Japanese maple names fall into three categories: 1) you absolutely know what the name means, 2) you think you mightknow but you're not totally positive and 3) you have no clue and you never will. Whenever known, the Vertrees/Gregory Japanese Maplesbook provides a translation, but it's not always clear why a certain name was chosen. For example Acer palmatum 'Manyo no sato' means “the wonderful place of nature,” and my wife Haruko confirms that it is a “good” name, the opposite of say, “hell hole” or “homeless camp.” But I can stare at 'Manyo no sato' all day long and I wouldn't ever come up with a “wonderful place.” Haruko continues that Man Yoshu* is a collection of 4,000 poems which was gathered from (she thinks) 759-780, where manyo means a “lot of leaves” or a “village with a lot of leaves.” Therefore the name would be appropriate as a name for a hot spring location, or a retirement home or just some other peaceful place. So that's what she means by a “good” name, and I suppose 'Manyo no sato' would be placed in Peter's second category where one only “sort of knows” what the name means. My relationship with my wife would also probably fall into the second category where I know her well...or do I?

Man Yoshu poems on the pleasures of sake written in Chinese with Japanese letter next to them

*The Man Yoshu, the “Collection of a Myriad of Leaves” was the first and longest of Japan's poetry anthologies. It is regarded with great affection because the poetry is fresh and free of complex word-play and restrictive rules which dominated later periods of poetry. Modern editions contain 4,536 waka (short “song”), 4 Chinese poems and 22 passages of Chinese prose. Here are two examples:

Though the bright crimson sun

continues to shine

how sad that the moon

which crosses the pitch black of night

has been concealed from view

On the autumn mountain

the fallen leaves are dense

yet I shall seek

the wife I have lost

though I do not know the way

Acer palmatum 'Sawa chidori'

Every few years we graft a flat (25) of Acer palmatum 'Sawa chidori'. It is a “reticulated” cultivar, which means that it displays prominent greenish veins on an otherwise amber-pink leaf. It is a weaker and less dazzling cultivar compared to many other reticulates such as those in the “Ghost Series,” but I still like to keep a few trees around. Now, at the end of summer, it is not looking very fresh but then most maples don't after our 100F days. Nevertheless, 'Sawa chidori' saves its best for late autumn with striking scarlet coloration. The Japanese name means “marsh plover,” and in the photo above you can easily imagine a flock of birds rising from the water. For what it's worth the word plover is from Latin pluere“to rain,” and that from the PIE root pleu“to flow.” The European plover breeds in summer in the Arctic, and when it arrives back in Europe that migration often coincides with the start of the rainy season. Hmm...

Acer palmatum 'Beni yubi gohon'

I acquired Acer palmatum 'Beni yubi gohon' early in my career from a specialty retail nursery in Bellingham, Washington. Their source was a landscaper, a Mr. Nomura – who I never met – from somewhere in the Seattle area (I was told). Anyway, it was mislabeled as 'Beni ubi gahan', but the last two words don't exist in Japanese, so clearly there was sum tin wong. The correct spelling is almost obvious, for the name means “five long red fingers” according to V/G in Japanese Maples. Actually it doesn't, for there is no word naga in the name which is Japanese for “long” – my wife's maiden name is Nagamine for “long range,” as in a long range of mountains. Therefore beni yubi gohon is literally “red-fingers-five.” Incidentally yubi gohon is a common phrase that Haruko's mother uses, and it means five things that you want to do, or five important things, i.e. those which you can count on one five-fingered hand.

Acer palmatum 'Mikazuki'

Sometimes I have given my introductions names that I later regret, and such is the case with Acer palmatum 'Mikazuki'. Don't get me wrong – it is a very worthy maple – but the name means “crescent moon,” as the original seedling presented a preponderance of sickle-shaped middle lobes. For some reason the thousands of grafted propagules don't display that notable feature, so the name must seem odd to those who know Japanese. Too bad – too late. In Japanese Maples one photo of 'Mikazuki' (page 187) by Peter Gregory is captioned as “spring color,” but in Oregon that would be very late spring or earlysummer. The second photo (by me) alleges it is “fall color.” Actually not, it was taken in early spring when 'Mikazuki' is most fresh.

Acer shirasawanum 'Kawaii'

It's been exactly 20 years since I first met my wife, Haruko. Her name means Haru (spring) and ko(child) for she was born in mid April. Spring Child: she has been an indispensable contributor to the Flora Wonder Blog with her research, as well as with her own knowledge, her experiences and her lively imagination. One evening, very early in our marriage we were strolling through the Display Garden and we passed an unnamed, unlabeled Acer seedling that I was anxious to observe. Haruko was very impressed with it, almost to the point that it astonished her. She squatted low to touch the foliage and exclaimed “kawaii,” and then looked up at me to explain that means “cute.” Cutethen, well done Haruko. 'Kawaii' originated as a seedling in an open garden situation, so it is not of known parentage, but certainly an Acer shirasawanum (with its upright seed presentation) must have been involved. If correct, it is the first, to my knowledge, shirasawanum laceleaf, and one that is very cutely colored orange-red besides. Haruko sings with delight: “kaaa waaa eeeee.”

Acer shirasawanum 'Sensai'

There is a sister seedling to 'Kawaii' but it didn't gain much traction because, though similar, I decided that 'Kawaii' was superior since it displayed its unique coloration more brilliantly. But, I know that sister 'Sensai' is in the trade because 1) I possibly sold a few, and 2) I know for a fact that it got into the hands of mrmaple.com – the Nichols boys from North Carolina. They have become the cultivar bank of my obscure as well as the obscura of others and, well, let those two energetic brothers try to sort out the maple diaspora. When Haruko first encountered 'Sensai' it too was an unnamed seedling, and she whispered “sensai” matter-of-factly. “Delicate” then. If a Japanese person is described as sensai, he or she has a tendency toward shyness or is possibly overly sensitive. To me that sounds like a wimp, and to some extent I would describe 'Sensai' as the wimpy second-sister to the more glamorous 'Kawaii'...but I don't dismiss her altogether; and who knows – maybe she is playing innocently simple, and really she is evaluating me.

Acer shirasawanum 'Johin'

If my heart could alone decide, totally without any commercial influence: what maple cultivar is my favorite? Well, I can't say, and of course not. However none would be morebeloved by me than Acer shirasawanum 'Johin'. That too was named by Haruko and the word means “elegant.” Believe me, Haruko doesn't march out into the nursery seeking plants to name, it's rather that I solicit her opinion about an unnamed seedling, and then I'm liable to reiterate her first linguistic expression into a cultivar name.

Acer shirasawanum 'Johin'

Probably Acer x 'Johin' is the more accurate botanical designation, based on its intermediate appearance between A. shirasawanum and A. palmatum. The seed parent was A. shirasawanum 'Palmatifolium' growing in the large garden of the late Oregon State University professor, Jim Baggett, and the garden contained fifty or more Japanese maples of various and sometimes unknown species. Prof. B. was a food scientist, and well-known for breeding improved beans and berries, but he dallied on the side with ferns, then Hostas, then bamboos, then Japanese maples, then I don't know what. Probably not in the order just given, but anyway he devoured his most current genera of interest, only to quickly delve into another. Besides the numerous maples in the ground, Prof. B. had an additional 500 Acer seedlings in pots – all in undersized pots – that required two hours of hand watering every day, every summer. He despaired at his cross-to-bear and was actually relieved when most of them perished in a particularly snappy Arctic blast that dropped us to near 0F. For my part, I was despondent because I was planning to make a financial offer for his entire seedling collection the following spring. But let's see, what I did get from Prof. B. before the rest of the collection died:

Acer 'Sensu'

Acer 'Johin'

Acer 'Kawaii'

Acer 'Sensai'

Acer 'Green Snowflake'

Plus others that remain unnamed.

Note that I didn't provide the specific epithet (above), but that's because I don't know for certain. However, in the commercial realm I declare them to be shirasawanum.

Acer palmatum 'Shu shidare'

Acer palmatum 'Shu shidare' is a low spreading laceleaf of dense habit and the original seedling is planted next to my house at 4' tall by 10' wide in 22 years. One might be surprised to learn that the mother tree was 'Amber Ghost', but nearly every time we germinate from 'Amber Ghost' we get a handful of laceleafs. In spring and summer 'Shu shidare' displays green finely-dissected leaves with an orange-red margin, hence the name which means “orange weeping” in Japanese. The photo of the full tree shows that autumn color is a solid orange-red. By the way, when I gave the dimensions after 22 years, keep in mind that is how much the original has grown – it is a strong cultivar – but grafted plants would probably grow to 10' wide in a shorter amount of time. We sell a modest amount of the delightful 'Shu shidare', but never as many as the more commercial purple-red cultivars like 'Red Dragon' or 'Tamuke yama'.

Pinus parviflora 'Ogon janome'

Let's switch from Japanese-named maples to pines. Forty years ago I began Buchholz Nursery and I soon became familiar with variegated pines, but my heart rate nearly doubled when I first encountered Pinus parviflora 'Ogon janome' with its pretty bands of golden variegation on otherwise blue-green needles. The word ogon means “gold” while janome should probably be split into three words. Ja (“snake”) no (“of”) me (“eyes”). Remember that the Japanese brain does not process words and phrases the way we do in English. But anyway, “golden snake eyes.” I was given a dozen scions by a nursery friend from Washington state and I grafted them onto Pinus strobus, like we do with all of our parvifloras. My graft take was 100% but all of them – except one – died within three years because I cut the rootstock off completely. I just didn't know at the time and I learned the hard way, and now we nurse the variegated portion by leaving an amount of green rootstock for at least five years before pruning completely. I just came back from inspecting the one tree that thankfully did survive and it finally has a leader to about 10' tall, but it spreads to about 20' wide. I was surprised that the foliage had not burned on the south side because it has in the past and we've been very hot this summer.

Pinus parviflora 'Tenshu kaku' (AKA 'Goldilocks')

The way we operate on most Nursery projects is that I walk up and down the rows and beds and produce work lists about what to prune, pot, stake etc. One of the items was to prune off completely the rootstock of the 6 gallon Pinus parviflora 'Goldilocks' because it was time and safe to do so at 5-6 years of age. Two less-than-focused women decided (I guess) that they would also totally remove the rootstock for the two-year-olds in one gallon pots as well. Or they didn't “decide” anything – maybe they just spaced out. Both have since been replaced by improved workers. When I discovered their error I told them that the work list didn't list the one gallons, and that they (about 200) would all die. Throw them out and FOCUS on pot size in the future. They didn't say anything and probably wondered why I was being a grump. A week later I walked by again and they still hadn't been dumped. I don't think they believed me since the plants still looked fine. I snapped to “dump them now!” They became paralyzed, unable to act. I called for Seth – who is less threatening and more kind – and instructed him to assure them that the plants will eventually die, so do what I said and dump them.

Pinus parviflora 'Tenshu kaku' (AKA 'Goldilocks')

In both the Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs and the RHS publication The Encyclopedia of Conifers we learn that 'Goldilocks' is a synonym for what is more properly 'Tenysu kazu'. They are wrong however, and it is more likely 'Tenshu kaku'. I offer you a link to a January 25, 2018 blog, Partial to Pinus Parviflora where I present my case. And I'll repeat what I said earlier about the RHS, that maybe Haruko should serve on their editorial board to help prevent mistakes such as 'Tenysu kazu'.

Yesterday I received my new 9^th edition (2019) of The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs. In 2014 the 8^th edition was published, but now just five years later it has been "revised and updated with 1,200 new plants" according to the title blurb. English plant personality and former Hillier employee, Roy Lancaster, writes in the preface:

"When the previous (8^th) edition of this manual with its 13,000 entries was published, some gardeners might have thought that it would remain relevant and representative for many years to come. They were wrong. Five years down the line, and we are pleased to present this updated edition containing over a thousand new entries covering a wealth of exciting and ornamental woody plants, from Mexican oaks and Chinese mahonias to Himalayan Sorbus and sumptuous magnolias."

First, I'll get one gripe out of the way about the new book: its size, for one must grapple with a publication that has become unwieldly, because while it remains at the same length and width, it is now over 100 pages thicker (to 637) and you have to wrestle to keep it open on a certain page. Certainly at some point you have to divide it into separate, more manageable volumes, as Krussmann and Bean did, to make it more user friendly. The bulk of the publication hinders me with my research, especially when I am comparing the previous edition with the current one. I feel like I need four arms and five hands to manage the 9^th, but making the type smaller with fewer pages would be a greater disaster.

Picea engelmannii 'Blue Magoo'

A new inclusion in the manual is a hardiness rating for every plant. When I turned at random to Picea engelmannii it said H7, and I thought to myself, "wait a minute – it's more hardy than that!" Then I realized that this was some British invention so I turned to the section How To Use The Manual and discovered that the degrees were in Celsius and where strangely an H1 was "Heated greenhouse – tropical" and H7 was "Very hardy," the opposite of our USDA system. The description of Picea engelmannii in the 9^thcopies that of the 8^th, but then further notes that the aforementioned Roy Lancaster "recalls a never-to-be-forgotten winter walk in the Canadian Rockies above Banff through forests almost entirely dominated by this species and P. glauca, with the occasional Tsuga mertensiana and Larix layallii adding variety."

Picea breweriana

Roy Lancaster garners a number of inclusions in the manual, and besides his winter walkthrough a

Picea engelmannii forest, the prior description of Picea breweriana mentions that RL saw it [P. breweriana] "in 2009 in the Siskiyou Mountains growing with Abies magnifica var. shastensis, Lithocarpus densiflorus, Arctostaphylos canescens, A. nevadensis and Quercus sadleriana." I actually enjoy these chatty asides which binds people with plants and which breathes greater life into, and helps to moisten an otherwise dry scientific manual. I can easily connect with the career of Roy Lancaster as I probably stood at the very place where he witnessed the Picea breweriana in the Siskiyous and also in Nepal in the 1970s which led to his classic Plant Hunting in Nepal, and perhaps in the latter locale we both drank Himalayan chang from the same dirty cups in the same filthy Sherpa tea house. I've met Lancaster only once, in a Gloucestershire pub in the evening before a plant society meeting regarding maples, and indeed he is still the President of the Maple Society, though now in his 80s. He has been called "One of Nature's Gentlemen," and he is one of those rare botanists who also has dirt under his fingernails and who probably eats his breakfast with a trowel, anxious to get outside and plant something.

Picea farreri

In the Hillier 9^th the species listed after Picea breweriana, then Picea engelmannii, is Picea farreri which is fairly new to broad cultivation. The photo above is a specimen from an English garden, and it's a conifer notable for pendulous green foliage. Hillier cites it as H4 hardiness, so let's go back to the Guide and see what that means for me. Hmm...-10 to -5 C, which in southern England means "hardy-average winter," but not hardy for me as that translates to USDA zone 8b/9a. We get colder than that every winter, so my one tiny plant is destined to spend its entire life in a protective greenhouse, and we'll hope the damn heater doesn't fail. Picea farreri honors the quirky plant collector Reginald Farrer who found it in Upper Burma (Myanmar) in 1919, and good that he did because he died in Burma soon after in 1920. A specimen was raised at Exbury, Hampshire that was planted in 1921 – according to Grimshaw/Bayton in New Trees, Recent Introductions to Cultivation– but it died from drought in 1995. It would be fun if an English gardener planted a P. farreri next to a P. breweriana, then we could all stand back 20 years later and decide which species is the more beautiful...well, if both you and I have 20 more spare years to live.

Picea glauca var. albertiana 'Pixie Dust'

Picea glauca is the "White spruce" and it occurs from the Atlantic to the Pacific, but mostly in Canada. The 9^thlists 13 cultivars of the very hardy species with 9 of them being selections of var. albertiana, the "Alberta spruce." Var. albertiana 'Conica' (aka 'Albertiana Conica') was the first of the little dwarf pyramids and it was found in the Canadian Rockies in 1904 by Dr. Jack and Professor Rehder of the Arnold Arboretum. 'Conica' has been produced by the millions over the years, and when I started my career in horticulture the large nursery where I worked sold over 200,000 per year. During the Recession of 10-12 years ago the albertas were a glut in the market, and nurseries who couldn't sell them kept them in the same size pot as they grew larger and larger, tipping over every time the wind blew. With the larger-sized 'Conicas' growers developed the brilliant idea to prune them into spiraled shapes, except that everyone produced spirals so they didn't sell either. Most nurseries with a crop of spiraled albertas have since gone bankrupt it seems. I grow only one cultivar – 'Pixie Dust'– and it's a cutie when the second flush of the season appears cream yellow, but it is absent from Hillier's list of cultivars.

Picea glauca 'Pendula'

For the non-alberta cultivars Hillier is content to list only 'Arneson's Blue Variegated', 'Coerulea', 'Densata', 'Echiniformis' and 'Nana'. Most of those are ancient selections and you don't find them in the trade anymore, the same as with most of the cultivars of Picea abies that Hillier lists. The one or two sentence descriptions serve as a history lesson I suppose, but in a few areas of the Manual Hillier is woefully behind what is currently in the trade. I find the omission of Picea glauca 'Pendula' to be strange because I have seen it in a few European countries, and it is a very distinctive, elegant and useful cultivar. Rushforth in Coniferslists it in his 1987 book, where it states: "'Pendula' is based on a plant with pendulous branches." That sentence must be the most uninspired plant description in the history of horticulture. Keep in mind that there is probably more than one clone of 'Pendula', but the one in the photos above was originally propagated by D. Hill Nursery from a tree in the wild in Ontario, Canada, and it has been in cultivation since at least 1958.

Pinus bungeana

Hillier keeps the same descriptions from the 8^thto the 9^th editions for the most part, but sometimes the prose is reworked and/or other snippets of information are added. That is the case with Pinus bungeana, and a new reference is made about a large P. bungeana in the Forbidden City in Beijing. I saw that specimen 30 years ago and I lamented that it received no protection from tourists, and cigarette butts and plastic littered its base. Now we read: "One specimen, possibly now removed, well over 20m, remained for a time after its demise as an unintentional monument to the millions of tourists' footfall and the resultant soil compaction." What a shame; a simple fence with a "Stay Out" sign would have preserved the tree. And by the way, the vast majority of the tourist culprits were Chinese, at least when I was there.

Pinus strobus 'Louie'

The Manual is correct that Pinus strobus 'Louie' was found by Greg Williams, USA before 1993, and it originated as a seedling in Hyde Park, Vermont. It is described as "a small tree," with a broadly pyramidal habit, and yes it is broad but not so small. I planted one at Flora Farm – it's about 22 years old now – and I thought it would look attractive in the middle of a grouping of upright Picea pungens. It did for awhile, but now 'Louie' produces shoots two feet long at the top and it has become decision time about whether it or the spruce will be sacrificed.

Pinus strobus 'Tiny Kurls'

Pinus strobus 'Tiny Kurls' is described as "A seedling of 'Torulosa' raised by A. Sherwood USA before 2005." Wrong. Andy Sherwood, who I am related to, had died long before I began my career. Actually it was the same Greg Williams of Vermont who intentionally crossed the cone-prolific dwarf cultivar 'Horsham' with 'Torulosa', and subsequent seedlings could be dwarf with the curious twisted needles like 'Torulosa'. Probably the most popular is 'Mini Twists', which is not listed in the manual. Conifer collector Bob Fincham was given permission to name both 'Mini Twists' and 'Tiny Kurls', while a third cultivar – 'Vercurve'– is also in the trade. Not surprising, the 'Tiny Kurls' origin error is repeated in the RHS Encyclopedia of Conifers.

Pinus contorta 'Chief Joseph'

The 8^th and 9^th both mispel the finder of Pinus 'Chief Joseph' as Doug Wills* (Will, not Wills), while the RHS publication has it correct. But a more egregious error occurs in the Manualwhen Pinus contorta, the "Beach pine"– in Oregon we call it "Shore pine"– is listed as the species for 'Chief Joseph'. We read that it was "discovered in the Wallow Mountains, Oregon, USA...and named after the famous leader of the Native American Nez Perce tribe..." But the Wallows are in the east side of Oregon, 300 miles away from the ocean. Pinus contorta var. latifolia, the "Lodgepole pine" is mentioned after P. c. 'Chief Joseph' but the only cultivar listed is 'Spaan's Dwarf'.

*The first time I met the salty Doug Will he told me that he was resting in his chair at his hunting campsite, but he noticed something golden off in the distance. He thought at first that it was a bucket or some type of garbage. As a good steward of nature he went off to pick it up, and discovered that it was the golden pine. "Digging it up was difficult," he said, "because the ground was hard as a wedding-night dick." That was a crude comment to someone who you've just met, but I laughed and have never forgotten it.

Pinus contorta 'Spaan's Dwarf'

Pinus contorta 'Frisian Gold' at Jeddeloh Nursery

Pinus contorta 'Frisian Gold'

I always assumed that 'Chief Joseph' was from the var. latifolia tribe, but now I'm not so sure. Rushforth calls latifolia a subsp. not a var., but I've never figured out the difference. P. contorta subsp. or var. contorta is the "Beach pine," while P. contorta subsp. murrayana is the "Sierra Lodgepole pine" which is native to the Cascade Mountains from Washington to Oregon and all the way south to Mexico. Another subsp., according to Rushforth, is bolanderi, the "Mendocino shore pine" and the cultivars 'Spaan's Dwarf' and 'Frisian Gold' are listed as members of the bolanderi group in Conifers. I grow both, but to place them in the Mendocino group surprises me. 'Frisian Gold' is from Jeddeloh in Germany – I wonder if they would know.

Pinus contorta 'Chief Joseph'

To further complicate matters the RHS Encyclopediaplaces 'Chief Joseph', 'Spaan's Dwarf' and 'Frisian Gold' in the var. murrayana group. Confused? Me too, with three different English publications, two from the RHS, all giving different taxonomic placings. All that I'm certain about.........no, wait a minute, I'm not certain about anything, but I strongly suspect that 'Chief Joseph' is not a "Beach pine" cultivar as is implied in the 9^thManual.

Abies koreana 'Nanaimo'

An Abies species that is well-suited for horticulture is A. koreana, and I have more cultivars of it compared to any other. Strangely the Manualis paucus with it, suggesting that it is an "interesting species," then adding "A tall-growing but very poor form is in cultivation." I have no clue what that means as I have purchased thousands of Abies koreana seedlings that I use as rootstock, or if grown on their own they make excellent garden trees. Is the "form" describes as "poor" the type specimen that E.H. Wilson collected? And by the way, where is that now growing? Of course it is entirely possible that the Hillier Manual is clear and concise and that I'm the confused one.

Abies koreana 'Silberlocke'

Abies koreana EX 'Silberlocke'

A few cultivars are listed, where A.k. 'Silberlocke' is of course mentioned, with the factoid that it was "raised in Germany before 1983."'Silver Show' is "A remarkable slow-growing selection similar to 'Silberlocke' but with more strongly upcurved leaves, making the silvery appearance of the foliage even more striking." I grow both cultivars, but honestly I can't tell them apart without looking at the trees' labels. What I do know is that nearly every seed of 'Silberlocke' that germinates produces upcurved needles at my nursery. These are always sold when young or they become rootstock for other cultivars, but it would be fun to grow them to larger sizes to see how they might vary, except that would take too much time and money.

Abies koreana 'Ice Breaker'

The Hillier 8^th lists Abies koreana 'Ice Breaker' and states: "A remarkable miniature cultivar with a low, squat habit. The white undersides of the upturned leaves give the whole plant a silver-blue appearance. Raised in Germany in 1998 from a witches' broom found on 'Silberlocke'." Then in the 9^th edition the same description is used, but the plant is renamed 'Kahout's Ice Breaker'. Actually it is Kohout, not Kahout. The American Conifer Society spells Kohout correctly but leaves out the apostrophe's and combines 'Icebreaker' into one word. I choose to continue calling it 'Ice Breaker', but then I'm not the person who first discovered and propagated it. In any case it was selected by the ACS in 2014 as the Conifer of the Year. It is well established in the trade – I have grown thousands – and we produce it via winter cuttings or as grafted plants.

Abies procera 'Glauca'

The "Noble fir," Abies procera, was introduced to cultivation in 1830 by David Douglas. 'Glauca' (or

David Douglas

"Glauca Group" now) is called by Hillier "The common clone," with an introduction supposedly in 1863, and is "used to cover all forms with blue-grey leaves."'Glauca Prostrata' is a "low bush with spreading or prostrate branches and glaucous leaves." What I didn't know is that it "originated in Hillier's Shroner Wood Nursery in about 1895." I saw a remarkable specimen at the Dutchman's home while I toiled at his nursery. The plant was only one foot tall while spreading to ten feet wide. I was allowed to propagate from that plant and one was put into the original Display Garden, and I look at it every day from out my office window. Unfortunately for me, it immediately shot upward and it's now about 40' tall, totally declining to grow low.

Picea abies 'Nidiformis', 8' tall, 30' wide, growing at Whitney Gardens, Washington State

I'm sure the conifer section of the 9^th edition is basically solid with the specific nomenclature and the useful and sometimes colorful descriptions. The cultivars presented, however, seem rather old-fashioned and I didn't find much that was new compared to the 8^thedition, but maybe trees such as Picea abies 'Tabuliformis' (1865), 'Remontii' (1874), 'Ohlendorfii' (1845), 'Nidiformis' (1907) etc. are in more common use in England than here in America. The conifer section comes towards the end of the Manual, sandwiched between the Climbersand the Bamboos, and since I know very little about those two groups I will not pass judgement on them. Flora Wonder Blog, Part 2 of the 9^th edition of The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs will focus on trees and shrubs, or maybe both – I don't know what I'll do yet.

In today's blog I'll discuss some Acer species listed in the 9^th edition of the very useful Manual.

Arboretum Hemelrijk

Now, many of you assume that I am a maple expert, right? Well, not so, or not very much. For example, ten years ago at the International Maple Society convention in Belgium we were touring the fantastic estate of the de Belder's called Hemelrijk, and one botanist asked me if I knew the specific identity of one towering Acer. I won't mention his name, but he didn't know me and perhaps assumed that I was an eminent botanist such as himself, as the international gatherings always attract the professorial types. I answered that I didn't have a clue, for basically I am a palmatum cultivarist. Another botanist overheard the question and soon there were four or five experts pondering the tree's identity. Various species were proposed, but no one seemed to be certain – and after all the leaves were high up in the air. I honestly thought it was an Acer rubrum, judging by the leaf debris below, but I've learned to keep my mouth shut. D. Justice from the University of British Columbia – one of the more likable of the botanists – waved it off with “Well, it's probably a hybrid anyway,” and then walked away. He makes a living off of maples, as do I, but I get paid only if my trees thrive and I can sell them, while he spends half of his day I suppose staring at dead herbarium samples.

Acer calcaratum

But no, I'm not an expert. One Acer species I encountered in the Hillier 9^th is Acer calcaratum. I have one 15-foot tree in a container in the greenhouse which is scrunched up against the top poly, so annually it will require heavy pruning. I love the rich reddish-purple new growth, but just with one look at the tree I can predict that it's not hardy outdoors for me. Hillier reveals that “A. calcaratum is from India (Sikkim) and the Himalaya. H2.” So I go back to the book's hardiness guide and H2 is a USDA zone 10 for me, so it's a wonder that it has survived at all in my unheated greenhouse. Seeking more information I turned to De Beaulieu's An Illustrated Guide to Maples but it's not listed at all...which suggests that Hillier is a splitter while De B is a lumper. Years ago I encountered similar-looking Acer species in Sikkim and in Himalayan foothills but was never certain about what I was seeing, but they too were blessed with delicious-looking new growth. Since my one tree came from the Nichols boys I went to their website mrmaple.com and was shocked to read that A. calcaratum is classified in the section palmata, and in fact the trees they sell are grafted onto Acer palmatum. How about that! I'll have to propagate a few and then I can sell my big tree to a southern California nursery.

Acer buergerianum 'Mino yatsubusa'

Hillier gives short shrift to the Acer buergerianum species, listing only 'Mino-yatsubusa' and 'Shirley Debacq', the latter which I have never seen. As I've mentioned before, Hillier is dash-happy-with-the-Japanese-names, presenting us with 'Mino-yatsubusa' as one of many examples. I don't think it's necessary or even valid, and you aren't dashed to death in De Beaulieu's An Illustrated Guide to Maples, Masayoshi Yano's Book for Maples or in the Vertrees/Gregory Japanese Maples, my three go-to reference books which I actually place ahead of the Hillier. Anyway 'Mino yatsubusa' is a most curious cultivar with unusual leaves where the middle lobe is long and tapering, and the top two lobes of the Tridentare short and perpendicular to the middle lobe. It gives this rather dwarf bush a lacy appearance, but the real fun begins in autumn when the green foliage transforms into deep orange, red, purple and nearly black coloration...and all of these hues can be present at the same time. There are many wonderful cultivars of A. buergerianum – which all sell like hotcakes for me – so it makes me wonder if any of the others have reached England at all. Actually I don't recall seeing A. buergerianum cultivars at the Westonbirt Arboretum either, or maybe it's just that the late Director, Peter Gregory, led me down a different path...but, who knows, there could be scads of them now.

Acer campestre 'Carnival'

Surprisingly there are a far greater number of Acer campestre cultivars listed than with almost all other species except palmatum, but then the “Field maple” is native from Britain to western Asia. One such is 'Queen Elizabeth', a funny name since it was selected in America for “its vigor and upright habit.” Another interesting addition is 'Silver Celebration' which originated as a branch sport on A.c. 'Carnival'. Those sportations are actually common for me, where 'Carnival's' foliage can appear perfectly half-and-half – white and green – or be totally green which you should prune out...or totally white where nature can prune herself via sun burn.

Acer circinatum 'Sunglow'

Acer circinatum 'Sunny Sister'

Of all of the maples I have introduced – some would say too many – no cultivar was listed in the Hillier 8^th. Of all of my maples, of all species, the Hillier 9^th lists only Acer circinatums 'Sunglow' and its sister seedling 'Sunny Sister', but at least they spelled Buchholz korrect. So, no Acer macrophyllum 'Mocha Rose', no A. palmatums 'Fairy Hair', no Ghosts, no 'Japanese Princess'*, no A. shirasawanums 'Kawaii' or 'Sensu' etc. I'm not miffed that these were skipped, but they are all in Europe and certainly grown in far greater numbers than my two “Vine maples.” We don't propagate many, and sometimes we even skip a year because in our growing conditions they are both prone to powdery mildew. The few that we have are scattered in with the palmatums and could be in any of 50 greenhouses, so a spray program to control the mildew is not feasible. It would probably make more sense to not grow them at all.

*I find it baffling that the seed parent of 'Japanese Princess', 'Mikawa yatsubusa', is not included in Hillier's 106 A. palmatum cultivars.

Acer palmatum 'Shishigashira'

Of the 106 Acer palmatum cultivars listed in the 9^th, I grow about half of them, and though I have access to almost all, I perceive a poor market for the likes of 'Dissectum Flavescens', 'Hessei', 'Korean Gem', 'Rufescens' etc. I don't grow others because they tend to revert or suffer from mildew such as 'Beni komachi', 'Taylor' or 'Marlo'. Acer palmatum 'Shishigashira' is rendered 'Shishi-gashira' in the 8^th, but a typo occurs in the 9^th and it is 'Shish geshira'– two words but at least no dash. I prefer 'Shishigashira'– one word, and that's how you find it in the Vertrees/Gregory Japanese Maples.

Acer palmatum 'Red Emperor'

In the 9^th it is suggested that Acer palmatum 'Emperor I' is the correct listing with 'Red Emperor' as an inappropriate synonym. In the 8^th it was the opposite. I grew 'Red Emperor' before what we label as 'Emperor One' and I continue to keep them as separate cultivars, but I admit that they look about the same. 'Emperor I' is described as “similar to 'Bloodgood' but coming into leaf two weeks later, reducing the risk of spring frost damage...” Frankly I have not noticed that attribute in my nursery. My opinion whether or not 'Red Emperor' and 'Emperor One' are the same clone is: I don't know. A former customer – now bankrupt and out of business – asked me the question about 15 years ago. He grew 'Emperor One' and I 'Red Emperor' only, so we agreed to exchange 100 scions. A few years later he planted a row of one next to a row of the other in full sun. Then he reported to me when the trees were 6 or 7 years old that the color was the same but that the 'Red Emperors' were consistently taller, with the 'Emperor One' more wide. I never inspected his trial, which I now regret, but he insisted that they were not the same. For what it's worth, Vertrees/Gregory list only 'Emperor I' and say: “This outstanding cultivar of exceptional vigor was discovered and developed by Richard P. Wolff of Red Maple Nursery, Pennsylvania.” Then they conclude: “'Red Emperor' which also originates from Red Maple Nursery fits the above description and may be the same cultivar.” Sorry if the above comes across as excessive nitpicking, but that's how I have spent my career, by getting down to the skinny in all matters possible.

Acer oliverianum

Over 30 years ago I collected two Acer species, a seedling of both A. oliverianum and A. elegantulum from a Salem, Oregon collector with the fantastic name of Noble Bashor. You could graft both onto Acer palmatum rootstock and they were attractive trees but nobody would buy them. I suppose one problem was their perceived lack of hardiness, but then also my customers wanted “Japanese maples,” not two obscure “Chinese maples.” Indeed Hillier 9^thrates A. elegantulum as H4 (British) which translates to USDA zone 8b9a, about 10F. The A. oliverianum is H6, or H5 if you have subspecies formosanum, i.e. hardy to about 0F-10F. I finally sold off all propagules from these species and kept just the original tree of each, and they were planted in my First Roadsection, which was so-named because it is the first planting that visitors encounter when they come to Buchholz Nursery. I don't remember if it was a particularly cold winter or perhaps a late spring frost, but both developed a bad trunk where the bark had split. If they would have been planted off in the back of the nursery I might have allowed them to live and recover, but I executed them because I didn't want customers or the public to observe that I had damaged trees.

Acer oliverianum 'Hot Blonde'

I never made an effort to reacquire the A. oliverianum, except that a few years ago the Nichols Boys from North Carolina sent me a start of x'Hot Blonde', which looks to be a chance hybrid of A. oliverianum and A. palmatum. I'm very excited about its prospects, and this past summer's grafts look very good. The Boys (at mrmaple.com) describe the beauty as a “gorgeous golden yellow upright Japanese maple with orange border in the spring. 'Hot Blonde' gets more and more yellow as the season goes on [and it] is a strong growing and vigorous tree, reaching 12-14 ft in 10 years.” After some more enthusiastic verbiage, they continue with the best part, that 'HB'“is one of the most heat tolerant Japanese maples we produce.” I highly recommend that you google Acer x 'Hot Blonde' and click onto mrmaple's Youtube presentation to learn more about it. the best part is we can see Amy Nichols for whom the tree was named, and she is absolutely a hot blonde– as in sizzling – and the only thing that makes you wonder is how teddy-bear Matt was able to land her as a wife, and he honestly admits to that himself.

Acer shirasawanum 'Moonrise'

I have produced thousands of grafts with the Acer shirasawanum species, beginning with the iconic A.s. 'Aureum' which was initially placed with Acer japonicum. In hindsight we must all be embarrassed to have gone along with the notion, because it became a very obvious taxonomic remedy once it was corrected. The Hillier 8^th lists three cultivars of A. shirasawanum: 'Aureum', 'Autumn Moon' and 'Jordan'...but the latter is a probable hybrid with palmatum and is not particularly suitable in horticulture due to its summer scorch susceptibility. The Hillier 9^th adds another cultivar, A.s. 'Moonrise', and it gets a glowing review: “Selected for its spectacular seasonal colour and resistance to leaf burn and disease...Introduced to the British Isles by Hillier Nurseries in 2016.”Well, concerning that last claim, I know that 'Moonrise' was in Europe well before 2016, and at least a dozen years ago I sent lots of scionwood to Junker Nurseries of Somerset, England, but now I'm too lazy to look into the archives to see if I sent 'Moonrise' as well. I find most A. shirasawanum cultivars to be more winter hardy than are the A. palmatums, even though the former are usually grafted on A. palmatum rootstock. It is usually more difficult to achieve a well-shaped canopy on the A. shirasawanum cultivars, including 'Moonrise'. We have learned that A. shirasawanum requires more discipline, more tough love, and we accomplish a balanced canopy by pruning, and never by staking. A six-year-old 'Moonrise' will not grow as tall as a six-year-old A.p. 'Red Emperor' for example, because the former requires more pruning.

Acer nipponicum

I think I have visited the Sir Harold Hillier Arboretum three times, although I'll admit that my life's years and plant trips have blurred. On one visit I spotted a green tree in the distance with a distinctively stout appearance. I knew instantly that it was Acer nipponicum because I grow one at Flora Farm and I see it by the driveway every day. Hillier deems it “A very distinct species that remains rare in cultivation though a tree (now dead) at the SHHG fruited profusely and produced many self-set seedlings.” My specimen is of seedling origin too, as I know of no compatible rootstock. Years ago I quizzed the late maple author, Peter Gregory, about a possible rootstock and he suggested Acer pseudoplatanus “because it accepts so many.” I tried it and got 100%...failure. Brian Humphrey in The Bench Grafter's Handbook concurs that “A. pseudoplatanus and palmatum suggested; both have failed here.” A. nipponicum could possibly be the only Acer species that does not have a compatible rootstock, or at least I can't think of another.

Acer pectinatum 'Mozart'

Hillier's 9^th lists only one cultivar of Acer pectinatum, 'Mozart', which was “Raised from seed wild collected by Peter Vanlaerhoven.” If true, then it's ridiculous to ever have considered it a cultivar of Acer x conspicuum (A. davidii x A. pensylvanicum) because the one Asian species and the other American do not meet in the wild. Of course this old American readily hybridized with an Asian species and the resulting offspring turned out pretty good. Acer pectinatum varies greatly in the wild with at least four subspecies originating in Yunnan, China, northern Myanmar, Bhutan, eastern Nepal and the southern Himalaya. All of that matters due to the possible hardiness of 'Mozart', but I don't know where it was “collected in the wild.”

I'm happy to have received the revised and updated 9^thedition and it is certainly packed with a wealth of information. This blog, as with last week's Conifers, Part 1 is not intended as a review in the traditional sense, it is rather an autobiography of my experience with the trees contained therein. My copy is already dog-eared and a little dirty from use, having become a new friend that I take advantage of. You can be sure that I will pounce to acquire the 10^th edition whenever that will be.

When I describe the Buchholz Nursery product line I like to say that we grow three groups of plants: 1) conifers, 2) maples and 3) everything else. Part 1 of my review of The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs9^thedition covered the conifers, or some conifers, and Part 2 dealt with Acer species. Today's Part 3 will discuss the everything elsegroup, and I'll exclude the Climberand Bamboosections because I don't know anything about them.

Aesculus hippocastanum 'Wisselink'

It's pointless to squabble about what constitutes a “tree” as opposed to a “shrub,” but Aesculus hippocastanum is definitely a TREE and Hillier rates the “Horse chestnut” as “Possibly the most beautiful of large, flowering trees hardy in the British Isles.”I thought the earlier Hillier editions were remiss to not include A.h. 'Wisselink', but the 9^th(2019) finally lists it, and it is described as “A medium-sized tree with distinctive white leaves with lime-green veins.”If I would have discovered it I probably would have given it some “ghost” name, but it was found by William Wisselink of Holland, and it would be a great treat to see the original tree. A nice specimen is growing at Sebright Gardens, just a ninety minute drive south from here, and since they are a retail operation the public is able to visit. While Sebright calls itself a “garden,” make no mistake: they are a full-fledged arboretum, an eclectic collection that is one of the most fun plant destinations in America. The foliage on Sebright's horse looks a little tired now, at the end of a hot summer, but it's remarkable that it is growing in full sun with no burn.

Poncirus trifoliata 'Flying Dragon'

Poncirus trifoliata 'Snow Dragon'

I have had a Poncirus trifoliata 'Flying Dragon', the “Japanese bitter orange,” for almost 30 years. If you look up Poncirus trifoliata in the Hillier 9^thyou won't find it and instead you are referred to Citrus trifoliata. No cultivar is mentioned but 'Flying Dragon' has been long in the trade and noteworthy for its more dense, compact form. My first plant was sold at 6' tall by 4' wide, and I imagine it could be double that size if I would have kept it. The Hillier description of the straight species (in the Rutaceae family) is positive, mentioning “Beautiful in spring when carrying its white, sweetly scented flowers...from northern China, introduced 1850.” Considering its place of origin I've never understood why it is referred to as the “Japanese bitter orange,” unless the Japanese make greater use of it than the Chinese. I suppose a palatable marmalade could be made from its skin; but of course I once sampled the flesh – I felt a duty to do so – but spat it out instantly. With the stems' prodigious thorns I think 'Flying Dragon' would make an excellent hedge to keep the neighbor's brats out. Two additional cultivars that we propagate are 'Tiny Dragon', a miniscule dwarf, and 'Snow Dragon' which has variegated leaves and stems.

Parrotia persica

Hamamelis intermedia 'Arnold Promise'

Parrotia persica is the “Persian ironwood,” a deciduous bush-tree in the Hamamelidaceae family native to northern and northwestern Iran, and endemic to the Alborz (or Elburz) Mountains. The cut branches can be made to intertwine and are used as livestock fencing. It was introduced to cultivation in 1840 and was named for the German naturalist Friedrich Parrot, a lover of Saltine crackers. Hillier considers it “One of the finest small trees for autumn colour...”and also mentions that the bark and older branches flake delightfully. Thirty years ago I grafted five or six Hamamelis scions into the top of a Parrotia and they made fairly smooth graft unions, so I now have a huge 'Arnold Promise' flowering in late winter, but also a tree that displays year-round appeal of the trunk...and, with far less suckering than by using the traditional Hamamelis rootstock.

Parrotia persica 'Persian Spire'

The Hillier 8^thlisted five cultivars of Parrotia but there are 8 in the 9^th, with two of the new ones I don't know, but also listed is 'Persian Spire' which I do grow. It was introduced by JLPN Nursery of Oregon, a company from Salem where I buy some of my rootstocks. 'Persian Spire' features the most narrow canopy of all, plus it sports fantastic autumn colour. Since it is patented I buy lining-out starts that are produced by rooted cuttings, and this grower can attain an 8' tree in just four years. Another attraction of Parrotia is the late-winter flowers, tiny but numerously-clustered with crimson stamens, an effect similar to the flowering of Acer rubrum.

Davidia involucrata 'Sonoma'

Davidia involucrata, the “Dove tree” or “Handkerchief tree,” is in the Nyssaceae family, and I only know that because the botanists say so; I never would have guessed myself. The Hillier 9^threpeats the same mistake as the 8^thwhen it says the cultivar 'Sonoma' was “Selected for its exceptional abaility to flower as a young plant, sometimes after only two or three years.”Actually it wasn't, it was selected for its unusually large flower bracts and the early flowering was a later-discovered bonus. I heard the story myself from the California nurseryman who discovered 'Sonoma'. Sales were never great for 'Sonoma', which was a complete mystery for me because there was nothing more delightful than a crop of 7-8' trees, and with every one of them adorned with a couple dozen drooping bracts. Well, I'm not a tree cheerleader so we haven't propagated 'Sonoma' in over five years, and besdies, the seedling rootstock is too expensive to speculated on a market change.

Davidia involucrata 'Lady Sunshine'

Davidia involucrata 'Aya nishiki'

Davidia involucrata 'White Dust'

We grow other Davidia cultivars with notable features, and a new addition to the Hillier 9^this 'Lady Sunshine': “A striking form with leaves irregularly margined creamy white. Selected by Crispin Silva, Oregon, USA.”I got an early start from Mr. Silva and mine probably grew to the largest specimen in the world, certainly moreso than the original tree. I sold it to a special customer and made a handsome profit, but my only regret is that I didn't wait long enough for it to flower. Hillier lists only 'Sonoma' and 'Lady Sunshine' for cultivars, but there are others that might eventually make the grade, such as 'Aya nishiki' and 'White Dust', and they actually sell better than 'Sonoma'. Because of 'Lady Sunshine' and the others, the days of selling a straight Davidia are gone for me, and wouldn't E.H. Wilson, who introduced it from China in 1904, find it peculiar, because it was once considered the Holy Grail of trees.

Elaeagnus 'Quicksilver'

I always considered the genus Elaeagnus, in the Elaeagnaceae family, to be a crappy group of plants and that no one would miss any of those cultivated if they were totally eliminated from our world. Nevertheless E. 'Quicksilver', named by Roy Lancaster, the VMH plant personality, is a cultivar with a great name, but a plant with problematic characteristics. Having grown it for about 8 years I would highly disrecommend it, and furthermore to actually loath it for its propensity to increase by unwanted, wide-spreading, suckering shoots. I planted my original in the Far East garden, and aggressive growth would quickly pop up as much as 20' away from the original planting. I would describe 'Quicksilver', as does plantsman Roger Gossler with similar bullish plants as: “A thug in the garden.”I was able to eliminate it from my field with herbicides – which I wasn't proud about – but at least it's now gone for good. That the “weed” received the prestigious British Award of Merit is reprehensible, unless the “award” is also accompanied by a plan to contain it. I'll admit that 'Quicksilver' is brilliant in bright sunshine with its vibrant, shiny leaves...with sunglasses recommended.

Salvia 'Hot Lips'

I know very little about the Salvia genus, except it is in the Lamiaceae family and was named by Linnaeus, and Hillier refers to it: “A large genus of 800-900 species of often aromatic flowering plants...”I always figured they would not be hardy for me but my good friend Reuben Hatch had the cute cultivar 'Hot Lips' in his garden in full sun and it has performed admirably for at least 5 years now. Hatch has a lot of fun in his garden, probably more than I do because nothing is a “crop.” I admitted that I liked his 'Hot Lips' and the next time I saw him he bought one for me. I put mine in the ground after a year in the greenhouse, and if it lives – good – and if it dies, oh well. In the Hillier 8^th'Hot Lips' is considered a cultivar of the xjamensis hybrid (S. greggii x S. microphylla), indicating that both parents are from Mexico. In the 9^thedition it is listed as Salvia 'Hot Lips', and that it was formerlyof the jamensis cross. I don't know what to make of the change; is the implication that its parentage is unknown? On the internet it is often called Salvia microphylla 'Hot Lips', the “Littleleaf sage,” and I can see that it's readily available in the trade. As you can see from the photo above it was wonderfully named, and its name reminds me of the Bletilla striata 'Kuchibeni' we grow which means “red lips” in Japanese. Hot Lips, red lips – it all sounds good to me.

Sinowilsonia henryi

According to Hillier, Sinowilsonia henryi is “A rare monotypic genus related to the witch hazels (Hamamelis) and mainly of botanical interest,”and that's because the flowers don't amount to much. Both the generic name andthe specific epithet honor two important British actors (E.H. Wilson and Augustine Henry) in the world of botany/horticulture whose petri dish contained a great deal of the flora from China. E.H. “Chinese” Wilson was recruited by the renowned English nursery firm of Veitch and Sons, while Augustine Henry was a customs inspector stationed in China who was probably bored with his imperial duties and so developed an interest in botany and plant collecting. It was Henry who coached and advised Wilson where to find and collect seed of the “Dove tree,” Davidia involucrata. Henry was impressed with the young Wilson, and Henry wrote to a friend that “Wilson was a self-made man, knows botany thoroughly, is young, and will get on.”He added that he “would be glad if [Wilson] will continue to carry on the work in China which has been on my shoulders for some years. There is so much of interest and novelty.”Henry and Wilson stayed close and corresponded for the rest of their lives. It's a litte sad that the one plant that shares both of their names is considered a BIO plant – of botanical interest only – when the floral wealth of China was/is so abundant. Sir Harold Hillier used space in the Sinowilsonia description to pay great respect for E.H. Wilson: “A walk round the nurseries with Ernest Wilson revealed that there was virtually no tree, shrub or herbaceous plant with which he was not familiar. He was a first-class botanist, perhaps the greatest of the plant hunters and, like W.J. Bean, a tremendous companion in the garden.”

Tetracentron sinense

Ernest Henry Wilson

Speaking of obscure Chinese species, both Henry and Wilson were involved with the introduction of Tetracentron sinense, “A large shrub or small to medium-sized tree of wide-spreading habit, a graceful tree from central and west China and the Himalaya,”another tree that was discovered by Henry, then introduced by Wilson. When I first encountered it I assumed it was a robust form of “Katsura,” or Cercidiphyllum japonicum, except the Tetra has alternate leaves. Cercidiphyllum is classified in its own family, Cercidiphyllaceae, while Tetracentron is placed in the Trochodendraceae family, and oddly the latter was once considered a member of the Magnolia family, Magnoliaceae. The botanic name was coined by Daniel Oliver, the English botanist who was Librarian of the Herbarium, RBG Kew, and comes from the Greek tetrameaning “four” and kentronmeaning “spur,” referring to four projections of the fruit. A wonderful sweeping-branched specimen can be seen at the Rhododendron Species Botanic Garden in Washington state, and the origin of their tree is from Sichuan, China.

Sorbaria sorbifolia 'Sem'

Alexander Braun

Hillier indicates that the Sorbaria genus is in the Rosaceae family, which I never would have guessed. The more you learn about plants...the more you have to learn. I have become enamoured with S. sorbifolia recently because I was gifted a plant with the cultivar name 'Sem'. Goodness knows why that name? But the suckering shrub features eye-catching foliage which is best described by Hillier:...”with pinkish and bronze young foliage, maturing to yellow-green and bright green before turning red in autumn.” The foliage is interesting, even if not pink or bronze, and as Hillier says: “Handsome, vigorous shrubs with elegant, pinnate leaves...”Linnaeus named the sorbifoliaspecies, but he put it under Spiraea sorbifolia, but eventually botanist Braun set the record straight. The erect flower panicles appear in July, and one can easily understand the previous Spiraea placement. Botanist Braun (1805-1877) was German, and he was the “leader of the 'natural philosophy' school,” according to www.brittanica.com, “a doctrine attempting to explain natural phenomena in terms of the speculative theories of essences and archetypes that dominated early 19th-century German science.”I think I would pass on joining that club.

Sophora prostrata 'Little Baby'

The genus name Sophora was coined by Linnaeus and it is a member of the Fabaceae family with about 50 species. They vary greatly, but I grow only 'Little Baby' which Hillier says is a cross of S. microphylla x S. prostrata. Hillier describes it aptly: “Dense mounds of wiry, zigzagging branches bear small pinnate leaves with tiny green leaflets and small, pendulous, golden yellow flowers.”I think it is hardy to USDA zone 8 (10F) and I had one in the garden for 6 or 7 years until it perished during a vicious winter's cold snap, a verycold snap. Sophora is a legume, a pea relative, and in fact some consider it to be in the Leguminosae family, not the Fabaceae family. Anyway its generic name is New Latin, from Arabic sufayra, a tree in the genus Sophora. An interesting relative in the Fabaceae family is the “Suicide tree,” Tachigali versicolor, which is native to old growth forests from Costa Rica north to Colombia. While it possesses one of the hardest and most dense wood of any Central American tree it is named suicide treebecause it dies after fruiting (monocarpic). Within a year the dead parent falls over, creating a gap in the forest canopy that allows its seedling offspring space and a breath of light. This maladaptivestrategy – more harmful than helpful– is understandable, don't you think?, because most human parents would die for their children...whether the kids deserved it or not.

The “Suicide tree” didn't make it into the Hillier 9^thbecause it wouldn't be hardy in the British Isles, although a large number of species that are barelyhardy are included in the tome. The SHHG is far more organized, inclusive and scientific than say, the Strybing Arboretum of San Francisco, California, but both gardens leave me with the wish to grow trees in a more benign climate. The Flora Wonder Blog has a readership where I don't know the majority, and it actually has one interesting reader from Singapore, a woman who loves plants, all plants; but that's remarkable because she doesn't grow anything that I write about.

“Talon, whether you write for those in Oregon, San Francisco, England or Singapore, your main purpose is to observe the relationship between people and plants, including yourself. Most of your 'readers' are probably only looking at the photos anyway.”

I'll finish my four-part review of The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs9^thEdition, inspired by a section in the book near the end called Botanical Names, and in particular I'll discuss specific epithets. An epithetis a descriptive name for a person or thing and it comes from the Greek epitethenai, meaning “to add on.” Epiis “in addition” and tithenaiis “to put, to place.” The rules, according to Hillier, state: “The term epithet is used here rather than name because, unlike generic names, species names will not stand on their own.”Then examples from ten different groups are given, and I'll discuss plant examples from each group.

Cedrus atlantica 'Glauca'

Dipteronia sinensis

For a Geographical epithet, 14 examples are listed and I am familiar with all of them, so there's nothing to be learned. Australe(is)is “southern,” boreale(is)is “northern,” occidentale(is)is “western,” orientale(is)is “eastern” etc; and of course atlanticais “from the Atlas Mountains” and himalaicusis “from the Himalaya.” japonica(um)(us), sinense(is), californica(um)(us)– you know the drill.

Platanus hispanica 'Suttneri'

There are a number of hispanicaepithets, for example Fraxinus hispanica (ash), Quercus hispanica (oak) and Platanus hispanica (plane), all indicating that they come from Spain, but I've never grown any of them, and given my age I probably never will. Platanus xhispanica is the “London plane” which Hillier calls “A large, noble park tree.” It has been known since 1663 and is thought to be a hybrid between P. occidentalis and P. orientalis. It was once called P. xacerifolia due to the palmate leaves, although there's no maple species that grows as large as the London plane. If I ever did grow one it would probably be the variegated selection 'Suttneri' which Hillier describes as “A striking form with large leaves boldly variegated creamy white.”The one tree that I have seen displayed a cleaner, more white trunk than the type.

Cirsium arvense

Equisetum arvense

The second grouping of epithets are those describing habitat. Not surprisingly sylvatica(um)(us)is “of, or forming woods,” palustre(is)is “of swamps or marshes” and aquatica(um)(us)is “of water or growing by water.” Most of you already know those three examples, but do you know arvense(is)? It means “of fields or cultivated land,” and I have two unwelcome arvense species on my lands that are the devil to get rid of: Circium arvense, the “Canadian Thistle,” and Equisetum arvense, the “Common Horsetail.” If either of these two get established in a container the only way I deal with it is to throw the baby out with the bathwater, and it somewhat shocks the employees how cavalier I can be about it. And no, you can't take the plant home, take a weedless one home instead.

Clematis montana var. wilsonii

E.H. Wilson

My favorite epithet describing habitat is montana, “of mountains,” because that's where I am most happy. When younger I undertook a number of trips to the Himalaya, and if the destination was the western Himalaya the journey began in the low-elevation hell-hole of Delhi, India, and if it was the eastern Himalays, one usually began in the worse hell-hole of Calcutta (now called Kolkata, and which was always named so in Bengali). A favorite montanaplant for me is Clematis montana var. wilsonii, and yes, it is our same E.H. Wilson who makes an appearance in nearly every Flora Wonder Blog. There are pink and red C. montana cultivars but I prefer the pure white – with yellowish anthers – of the Wilson form which flowers later and is allegedly chocolate scented. Hillier relates that this variety was introduced in 1907 from central China, “one of whose collections was received from Veitch Nurseries, Exeter, by Hergest Croft Gardens, Herefordshire, where it is still growing.”I was at Hergest Croft about 15 years ago, but it was in the fall, so I didn't notice this historic plant. Clematis is the Greek name for several climbing plants, and is a diminutive of klema, meaning “vine shoot.” You say Clématis, I say Clemátis, Tomayto, Tomahto...

Pinus sylvestris 'Glauca Fastigiata'

Betula nana

The first nursery where I worked sold over 1 million plants per year, and while the plants had names – such as mugo pine, alberta spruce, Tam juniper and the like – never did we use the botanic names. Later I worked at the Dutchman's nursery where we would learn quickly and use names regularly that described a plant's habit. Nana(um)(us) meant “dwarf,” pendula(um)(us)was “weeping” and fastigiata(um)(us)meant “erect branching” and was usually accompanied by a narrow form. One non-plant person actually questioned my use of the word habit to describe a plant's shape, like the plant behaved poorly because it had bad habits. I just responded that in the tradethe cognoscenti all knew what it meant.

Paeonia suffruticosa 'Hohki'

If one encounters the specific epithet fruticosa(um)(us)there is the possibility to assume that the plant produces showy, or even edible fruits, but not so. It means “shrubby” and/or “dwarf,” from Latin fruticosus, from frutex for “shrub.” Don't confuse that with the epithet suffruticosa(um)(us)which means “woody at the base” but remaining herbaceous (softer) above, which is Latin for “sub” + fruticose.

Acer macrophyllum

Acer macrophyllum 'Golden Riddle'

Hillier teaches us that phylla(um)(us)and folia(um)(us) mean “leaved,” and those epithets are often used for species that are named for the appearance of their leaves. Leaf description was frequently used in the naming of Acer species such as A. argutumfor “sharp,” A. x coriaceumfor “leathery” leaves, A. crataegifoliumfor leaves that resemble the hawthorn, carpinifoliumfor Carpinus-like leaves and many others. Acer macrophyllum, our “Oregon maple,” is noteworthy as the largest-growing of the Acer genus, and the leaves are the largest of any Acer species as well.

Corymbia maculata

Maculatais an interesting epithet and it describes leaves that are spotted or blotched. The photo of Eucalyptus maculata was taken in a Los Angeles-area arboretum, but I don't remember any spotting on the leaves, but maybe that's because I hate Eucalyptus foliage anyway. The arboretum should update their labels, however, because now it is classified as Corymbiamaculata, but still in the Myrtaceae family. The “Spotted gum” was first described by William Jackson Hooker in 1844 as a Eucalyptus, but apparently back then it also referred to spotting on the trunk. I wasn't as observant as Hooker, because while I remember the trunk being attractive in coloration, I don't recall any spotting on the trunk either.

Dactylorhiza maculata

Maculatais derived from Latin macula, to “stain, spot or blemish,” and its absolutely the spotted leaves on the orchid Dactylorhiza maculata that accounts for the specific epithet. The generic name is from Greek daklylosmeaning “finger” and rhizafor “root.” Linnaeus knew it and originally called it Orchis maculata, and then it was changed in 1962. In German it is wonderfully known as Geflecktes knabenkraut, and I suppose your imagination of that translation is as accurate as mine. Scientifically though, this is how Dactylorhiza maculata is classified:

Kingdom Plantae

Clade Tracheophytes

Clade Angiosperms

Clade Monocots

Order Asparagales <-------

Family Orchidaceae

Genus Dactylorhiza

Species maculata

Consider the Order Asparagales:there are an estimated 26,000 species, and besides the Dactylorhiza maculata, the Asparagus that you eat (Asparagus officinalis), day lilies, iris, garlic and vanilla are all in the Order.

Smilacina racemosa

Hillier offers 15 specific epithets that describe flowers, and I suppose that the lay-person could identify most of them because their Latin roots are in use with our English. Some examples are nudiflora(um)(us)for “naked, without leaves,” grandiflora(um)(us)for “large flowered,” pauciflora(um)(us)for “few-flowered” and triflora(um)(us)for “flowers in three.” A common epithet is racemosa(um)(us),and we have a number of species in the collection so-named. Smilacina racemosa is a pleasant woodland plant with pure white flowers held in a raceme. One page before the specific epithet listing are 9 simple drawings that name plant parts, such as panicle, cyme, umbel, raceme etc. I didn't want to steal directly from The Manual– even though I frequently plagiarize words and sentences from it – so I asked my wife to make the above drawing. She went one better than Hillier by including our family dog. The common name for the plant is “Solomon's Plume,” but before you try to pronounce and remember the genus word Smilacina, it has now been renamed Maianthemum racemosum, a new name that I'll forget by the time I end this sentence.

Rhododendron lacteum

Epithets describing colour is another Hillier 9^thgrouping, most of which I know well, such as alba(um)(us), aurea(um)(us), nigra(um)(us), etc. A fun name is lactea(um)(us)and it doesn't mean just “white,” rather it is “milk-white,” and Rhododendron lacteum is the plant example given. Maybe the milk has gone sour because the flower is a little dirty with some yellow in the throat.

Matucana aurantiaca

A colour epithet that I wouldn't have known without Hillier's help is aurantiaca(um)(us) and it means “orange.” That color...er, colour is not common in my landscape, and in fact the photo above was taken in a California arboretum, probably the Huntington Arboretum in San Marino, California, and it is of Matucana aurantiaca. It is a genus of cacti only native to Peru, mostly along the Maranon River, and discovered near the town of...Matucana.

Pimelea ferruginea 'Bonne Petite'

Another interesting colour is ferrugineawhich means “rust-colored,” and the example Hillier gives is for Rhododendron ferrugineum, the “Alpen rose” or “Snow rose” which is a shrub that grows above tree-line in the Alps, and which happens to be the type species for the genus. It is the undersides of the leaves which are colored rust-brown, so they are ferruginous. There is another ferruginous species and it is for the Pimelea genus, the “Pink rice flower” plant which is native to coastal western Australia. The Pimelea is another plant that I do not grow, but I saw a Thymelaeaceae specimen at the impressive University of California Santa Cruz Arboretum about 10 years ago, and the cultivar 'Bonne Petite' was most impressive. The generic name is New Latin, from Greek pimele for “lard” which probably refers to the oily seeds; which, if so, demonstrates how petty-minded the botanists of yore could be.

Brugmansia species

Aime Bonpland

Alexander Von Humboldt

Ok, let's get to the 7^thHillier category – hang in there – its epithets that describe aromas and scents. There's some that I have never heard of such as suaveolens, and Stop! Don't read further – do you know what that means? Of course you don't, but now continue reading: it means “sweet-scented,” and the plant example Hillier gives is Brugmansia suaveolens. I have had a few Brugmansia specimens in the collection, never for sale, but they were fun, although I don't recall any particular scent. They took up a lot of wide-reaching greenhouse space, and when the heater failed and they died one winter I was actually relieved. Brugmansia, though, is a fantastic genus that was first described by my heroes Humboldt and Bonpland, the intrepid German and French explorers who documented the flora and geology and geography of South America in the early 1800s. Linnaeus first classified the genus in 1753 as Datura arborea, but then in 1805 it was moved into Brugmansia and named for the Dutch naturalist Sebald Justinus Brugmans. I describe Brugmansia as fantastic because the “Angel's Trumpet” is one of the most toxic of all ornamental plants and amazingly all of its species are known only in cultivation, and no wild plants have ever been confirmed. Hillier claims there are five species, others say seven, but the B. suaveolens is from southeast Brazil. The genus is considered as Extinct in the Wildby the IUCN Red List, and it's a pertinent example where human cultivation has ensured their survival, and perhaps it serves as a reminder that humans do more than just make life go extinct.

Liriodendron tulipifera

Liriodendron tulipifera 'Little Volunteer'

Liriodendron chinense

The 8^thHillier category is epithets alluding to other plants, and some examples are jasmineafor “jasmine-like,” liliiflorafor “lily-flowered,” salicifolia(um)(us)for “willow-leaved” and tulipiferafor “tulip bearing.” I generally don't care for allusions with plant names, and it seems like the botanist was being lazy. Concerning tulipifera, I have seen Liriodendron tulipifera in the wild in one of the great hardwood forests of Michigan, but I grow only one cultivar – 'Little Volunteer'– which is much smaller and more compact than the type. According to Hillier: “The North American tulip tree was considered monotypic until, at the beginning of the 20^thcentury, a second and very similar species was discovered in China.”Guess who?, E.H. Wilson introduced the rare Chinese species from Sichuan in 1901. Probably a better botanic name could have been chosen, as Liriodendronis Greek for “lily tree,” so the binomial name is rather silly with “lily tree bringing forth tulips.”

Viburnum davidii 'Longleaf'

Pinus armandii

Commemorative epithets used to be common among botanists. They loved to honor each other with plant names, and in other cases the plant discoverer tried to curry favor with his financial sponsor, and sometimes the specific epithet honors the finder's wife, as Frank Kingdon-Ward did with Lilium mackliniae. I think it was an interesting practice to use the first name of the plant hunter, as was the case with the French missionary Armand David for Pinus armandi, and his last name for Viburnum davidii.* E.H. Wilson introduced the Viburnum in 1904, while the Pinus was introduced in 1895 and both plants were named by the botanist Adrian Rene Franchet (1834-1900). The portly Franchet specialized in the flora of Japan and China when the goods were arriving by the boatload, and he himself was epithetinized with the Chinese flower Swertia franchetiana.

*Someone please explain why the Viburnum has two ii's, and the Pinus only one i, unless it is a Hillier typo.

Rhododendron exasperatum

Finally, the 10^thgrouping is for miscellaneous epithets. Ambigua(um)(us), as with Ribes ambiguum, means of “doubtful identity,” and confusa(um)(us) is “confused identity.” One might assume that Rhododenron exasperatum caused the naming botanist Harry Frank Tagg (1874-1933) fits with its classification. Actually the Rhododendron was named for its rough-ribbed leaves. Exasperateis from the Latin verb exasperarewhich is based on asperfor “rough.”

Enough! Enough of The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs, 9^thedition. This concludes the 4^thFlora Wonder Blog about the new (2019) edition, although there's fodder within the 637 pages for plenty more. It is my plant Bible and I consult it almost daily, and though there are mistakes they are few and insignificant. Sorry if I come across as negative at times, and I'm actually going to purchase another copy so I don't have to haul the heavy brick back and forth from home and office.

Magnolia stellata 'Jane Platt'

Every year about this time I receive my Gossler Farms Nursery retail catalog, and no matter how busy I am I push everything to the side on my desk and spend an hour with it. And then the next day...another hour, rereading what I covered the day before. Roger Gossler is a renowned plantsman and his family's mail-order nursery reflects their eclectic taste in plants. Years ago they were the American gardener's best supplier of Magnolias, but now they also offer maples and conifers and a whole lot of everything else, in addition to the 75 Magnolia cultivars listed in this year's catalog. The world of horticulture has Roger to thank for the introduction of Magnolia stellata 'Jane Platt' which deservedly received the Award of Garden Merit from England's Royal Horticultural Society.

Roger Gossler

Gossler visits once or twice a year and this fall he has 63 different items on order – 10 of this and 30 of that – only half of which I really wanted to sell. If I acquire a new plant he has a knack for sniffing it out in the furthermost greenhouse, always before I can build up my stock. I don't want to be stingy but I really wish I had a secret nursery somewhere so I could hide those plants from him. But it's Roger after all, so he usually gets what he wants, plus he has given me a hundred or more plants over the decades at no charge. From his catalog I can identify most of his other suppliers, and I'm sure there is a lot of sideways distribution that goes through good-guy Roger. We hope that the solid Mr. G. will always exist as our horticultural stalwart. I don't remember if I said it before, but if you don't like Roger then I don't like you.

Camellia x williamsiana 'Water Lily'

I was visiting Gossler Farms Nursery about six years ago and I encountered a blooming specimen of Camellia x williamsiana 'Water Lily', but prior to that time I was a grump about the Camellia genus, and in fact I wasn't certain if the genus name contained just one l or two ll's. I didn't know anything about them, and I never grew any because they were well-known as a root-weevil magnet, and then as a host of Sudden Oak Death. Furthermore, as a child I was tasked with sweeping up spent Camellia blossoms from four huge bushes every year that were planted in front of our house. Another reason to hate them was because the leaves were often besmirched with a black soot, probably from aphid excretion. But Roger's 'Water Lily' looked perfect and he handed a pot to me. So that's the story of the first Camellia to enter into the collection, and how interesting that Roger has now bought from me C. japonica 'Nuccio's Pearl'.

Camellia x 'Night Rider'

The hybrid Camellia x williamsii is a cross of C. japonica with the Chinese species C. saluenensis, and in The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs (9^th edition) it is rated as “One of the most valuable hybrid shrubs ever produced and perhaps the best Camellia for general planting in the British Isles.” The aforementioned 'Water Lily' received the prestigious Award of Garden Merit and has been around since 1967. Another cultivar of note is 'Night Rider' which is C. japonica 'Kuro tsubaki' x C. x williamsii 'Ruby Bells'. Flowers of 'Night Rider' are dark red, small and semi double, but the new foliage is a delicious purple-red, the color of which reminds me of Pieris japonica 'Katsura'. The C. x williamsii was raised by J.C. Williams (1861-1939) at Caerhays Estate, by the passionate gardener who sponsored some of the great plant hunters such as George Forrest and E.H. Wilson.

Abies koreana 'Alpine Star'

Gossler stumbled upon our inadequately hidden Abies koreana 'Alpine Star', which is listed as 'Alpin Star' in Europe, and naturally he wanted to acquire the very dark-green-foliaged conifer. Roger relates that it is a Scottish selection, which I already knew, but I don't know which company or person introduced it, nor do I know if it was from seedling origin or from a witch's broom mutation. If the miniature arose from a mutation I'd like to know if the mother was a random A. koreana seedling – and nothing wrong with that – or from an already-named cultivar. The needles are tiny and crowded along the stem, and they are far too dark to be considered attractive, but they foist the shiny white buds into brilliant prominence...which explains the “star” in the cultivar name, and in that sense I consider it a cosmicplant.

Camellia x 'J.C. Williams'

While writing this blog Roger Gossler actually arrived to pick up his fall 2020 order. We chatted and gossiped as usual, then as he departed he pointed to his catalog on my desk and offered, “If there's anything you want, just let me know.” Wow! – my brain buzzed at the possibilities. Another Camellia perhaps? – Like C. 'Buttermint', since the “small creamy yellow C. kisii hybrid is upright growing and flowers heavily with slightly double yellow flowers.” Since I had never heard of this “k” species I turned to the American Camellia Society's website where it is listed as C. kissi, not C. kisii. Into uncharted territory I go again...and the ACS reveals that C. kissi originates in northeast India, Nepal, Burma, and southern China, so obviously I question its hardiness. But it should be known that C. kissi oil is available at alternative sources and that it will arrive from Vegetarian Friendly, Vegan Friendly and Cruelty Free factories, and, as for me, I wouldn't want it from any other sources, duh. Apparently it “works well as a skin replenishing oil, as an incredible anti-inflammatory that calms and conditions irritated, sensitive skin...and importantly, helps to diminish stretch marks, reduce fine lines and wrinkles.” But anyway, another non-hardy plant; I should probably pass on that.

Paeonia delavayi

Jean Marie Delavay

Gossler lists a couple of Paeonia species, P. delavayi and P. ludlowii, and I also have both in my garden. The delavayi species was introduced from western China in 1908 and there are a number of varieties of it. For example Gossler says his form has deep-maroon flowers, while the Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs lists varieties with white and yellow blossoms as well. As you can see my plant is showing off with a light-orange color, but I don't remember at what point of flower development the photo was taken. My tree is in full sun and I suppose the color would vary somewhat if it was in shade. Hillier calls it “A handsome suckering shrub attaining 2m,” but I haven't noticed any suckering from mine. The specific epithet honors Pere Jean Marie Delavay (1834-1895), a French missionary who was far more successful as a botanical explorer than with converting Chinese souls. I'm not sure that he converted even one, because he sent over 200,000 herbarium specimens to the Paris Museum of Natural History, with 1,500 of them being described as new species. Sadly he contracted the bubonic plague in 1888 but, though weakened, he kept collecting...and finally died in Yunnan Province at age 61.

Paeonia ludlowii seed

Paeonia ludlowii

Paeonia ludlowii is a “tree peony” with “large, single golden-yellow flowers,”* according to Gossler. Hillier describes it as a “vigorous, medium-sized to large shrub with stout, unbranched stems and bold, deeply cut leaves,” as is proven with the above photos. Roger is selling seedlings and we have in the past also; the plant develops carpels (pods) which contain round blackish-brown seeds. I planted only one in the original Display Garden, but critters of some type distribute them about and I've had them germinate 200 feet away. The species was named in honor of Frank Ludlow who collected it in the Tsangpo Valley in southeast Tibet in 1936. It's a good thing that I have it in my garden because it is threatened in the wild. The problem is exploitation by people from other parts of China, as the root's bark is used in traditional medicine.

*In Tibet it is known as lumaidao meaning "God's flower."

Pleione 'Alishan'

Pleione 'Golden Gate'

Pleione 'Tolima'

Pleione formosana 'Tongariro'

We are pleased that Gossler buys his Pleione cultivars from us, and he acquired 'Alishan', 'Golden Gate', 'Tolima' and 'Tongariro' on his last pickup. I began to collect these terrestrial orchids 25 years ago, but only as a hobby. My wife Haruko took an interest in them and once spent a full day repotting the bulbs and carefully labelling all. She gently watered them in to settle the soil, but a few days later a mindless employee jetted many out of their pots with too much sideways water pressure. They didn't need water at all – they were just bulbs, half in and half out of the soil. When Haruko saw the mess she just stood there with her mouth open for a few moments before trying to salvage the situation, and she pleaded with me not to fire the poor woman (I did later for other transgressions). Now office-manager Eric manages everything: their potting, labelling, watering, pricing and acquiring new varieties, and we actually make a profit. The Pleiones are easier to grow than most people would suppose, and they'll survive our winters outside in western Oregon.

Les Oceanides Les Naiades de la mer by Gustave Dore

According to Cribb and Butterfield in The Genus Pleione: “The genus Pleione was established in 1825 by [botanist] David Don based on two Himalayan species, P. praecox and P. humilis, both previously figured and described by Sir James Smith as species of Epidendrum.” Since the Pleione genus is native to northern India, Nepal, China, Taiwan and Myanmar, it's odd that the Latin name (from Greek) was used for the mother of the Pleiades, the seven star cluster in the constellation Taurus. Pleione was an oceanid nymph and the protectress of sailors, but I don't see any connection with the orchids, other than that the flowers are beautiful and the nymph must be too.

Magnolia 'Vulcan'

The Gosslers are internationally respected for their expertise with Magnolias and for their availability. Even office-manager Eric bought his first Magnolias from them, long before he wound up at Buchholz Nursery from his previous employment in the high-tech sector. Roger describes M. 'Vulcan': “An incredible glowing red-purple. The first blooms will be an odd purple and we worried it wasn't the correct plant, but it changed drastically with age. Hardy to probably 0F. The flowers can be up to 12” across in March.” Concerning the blossom color I too have noticed that it changes with age, and furthermore that it is never exactly the same from one year to the next. I think it's a factor of how much light is available in March which is never the same. I have about 50 digital photos of 'Vulcan' taken over the years, and I would say that in some years it is better than in others.* M. 'Vulcan' was bred by the Jury family of New Zealand using M. campbellii subsp. mollicomata 'Lanarth' with M. liliiflora.

*I've seen the same color changes with red Cornus kousa cultivars.

The matriarch of the Gossler enterprise is Marj Gossler, and for years she did all the office duties, and never was a payment ever late. She had a difficult spring because the 92-year-old fell twice and broke bones, and due to the pandemic the family couldn't visit her in the hospital. The good news is that she is now home mending.

Magnolia sargentiana var. robusta

Magnolia denudata

There is a Magnolia cultivar named for her – 'Marj Gossler'– which is M. denudata x M. sargentiana var. robusta. The hybrid was raised and named by Phil Savage of Michigan which used the pollen of the M. sargentiana from Oregon. It flowers fragrantly in late March, white with a deep reddish-purple base. The parents are no wimps, and 'Marj Gossler' is said to be an erect fast-growing medium-sized tree. I've never grown the cultivar, but guess what?: since Roger offered me anything I want, I'll request his mother's Magnolia.

Flora Farm

Every year we harvest trees from the Upper Gardens at Flora Farm, some quite sizable. That leaves big craters until we get around to filling them with topsoil, which we are doing today with our sunny weather. Other gaps in our planting occur when a tree dies, or when I get sick of looking at another because it is continuously struggling. Replacements are selected by me, and the criteria is that I want a tree or shrub out of the nursery where it is often coddled, and put into the “real world,” in real soil...for better or for worse.

Acer buergerianum 'Michael Steinhardt'

A golden Acer buergerianum, named 'Michael Steinhardt', was given to me about 7 years ago, and now we are propagating and growing a crop in the greenhouse. They are not as golden inside under white poly, but they are so happy with our container culture that 5' shoots can develop. It was Don Shadow, the noted southern plantsman who gifted me the tree, and the original mother plant is growing in full sun at his home in southern Tennessee. I saw it in May and it looked brilliant, and Shadow claims that it never burns, even with the heat of August. We'll find out how it fares in Oregon sun, the main difference being that we have no humidity when we reach 100F and Tennessee's air veritably drips with water then. The cultivar name honors Michael Steinhardt, a New York city financier who owns an arboretum/zoo (Iroki) near Mount Kisco, New York.

Acer palmatum 'Golden Falls'

Another seedling selection that will make its debut out in the real elements is Acer palmatum 'Golden Falls'. As with the 'Michael Steinhardt', 'Golden Falls' loves our greenhouses, but I anticipate that its foliage will be more bright outdoors. Or, it might burn to a crisp, and since it is my introduction – and I'm already selling them – it's about time that I find out. The seed source was Acer palmatum 'Ryu sei' where about 25% of the seedlings resembled the mother's decidedly weeping habit, except that all of the other seedlings were green.

Schizachyrium scoparium 'The Blues'

The grass, Schizachyrium scoparium 'The Blues', was given to me by a garden friend when he divided his clump, and for the past 3 years it has been hanging out in GH23. I don't anticipate ever propagating it, so it's yet another plant in the collection that makes me no money. The species is commonly called “Little Bluestem” and is native to prairies, open forests and roadsides in America's central states. I'm sure that it will color differently in full sun in dirt compared to the photo above of it in a pot in a white-poly house that is watered every day. The genus name is a mouthful, but it's from Latin schizein meaning “to split” and achyron meaning “chaff,” the dry husk or hull around the grain. The specific epithet scoparium means “broomlike,” and the early settlers probably did use the native weed to sweep their floors.

Yucca rostrata 'Sapphire Skies'

We used to buy liners of the patented Yucca rostrata 'Sapphire Skies', but that supplier inexplicably discontinued it, leaving me with just two plants, besides one other planted at the nursery. Since I don't have a “crop” anymore, the two remaining plants are slated for the Quercus (oak) section at Flora Farm. Yucca rostrata is the “Beaked yucca” and is native to Texas and the northern Mexican states of Chihuahua and Coahuila. 'Sapphire Skies' may eventually reach 12' tall, where the silver-blue leaves are mopped atop a single stem which is ornamentally clad with light-brown dead leaves below. Flowers are said to be white and attract hummingbirds, but my oldest has yet to bloom. The word “yucca” is from the Cariban language group from South America from the mouth of the Amazon to the Colombian Andes. There it is the name for Manihot which is commonly called cassava or yuca, and which is completely unrelated to the genus Yucca. The specific epithet rostrata means “curved” or “hooked” in reference to part of the flower, so I'm anxious to check that feature when my plant eventually blooms.

Spiraea morrisonicola

I'm not really a Spiraea guy, but we do propagate and sell S. morrisonicola which originates from elevation on Mt. Morrison in Taiwan. It is a small-growing deciduous species that's attractive in bud, then also when the pink and white flowers fully open. The green leaves of spring and summer change in fall to exciting hues of red and yellow which persist for a month it seems. It is a fun plant, but we planted one in a trough and it went to seed, and now the Spiraea dominates the other plants. The SpiraeaLatin name was coined by Linnaeus but it comes from Greek speiraiawhich was a plant used for “garlands” or “wreaths” due to the showy flower clusters.

Magnolia wilsonii

E.H. Wilson

Another plant that went to Flora Farm to get grounded is Magnolia wilsonii, and yes, its name honors E.H. “Chinese” Wilson, the energetic English explorer/plant collector who introduced many hundreds of species from China into Western cultivation. The photo above of M. wilsonii is fraudulent in a sense, since I lifted the branch up with one hand while shuttering with the other because M. wilsonii's flowers tend to droop downward, and one really requires a mature specimen to evaluate, since you can then walk under the branches laden with blooms; and it's interesting that the closely-related Magnolia sieboldii from Japan presents you with the same dilemma. In The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs(2019) we receive an adequate description of Magnolia wilsonii (in part): “In May and June bears pendent, saucer-shaped, white flowers with crimson stamens.” Thereafter we are swamped with details that only the cognoscenti could possibly follow:...“In 1981 the narrower-leaved form that was collected by [George] Forrest as M. taliensis W.W.Sm. was seen by the Sino British Expedition to the Cangshan in W Yunnan but it was too early for seed. Seeds of M. wilsonii, collected in 2018 by Mikinori Ogisu from W. Sichuan has germinated at the SHHG. FCC 1971. AM 1932. Trophy cup symbol H6.”I follow all the twists and turns with that description because I am familiar with plant introduction history, and with its cast of characters, but I don't imagine that Mr. George Perkins from Liverpool or Mrs. Betty Rose from a London suburb can decipher any of it, let alone Americans who happen to have purchased the Manual. And, if you go back to that description where “seeds hasgerminated,” you would probably want to improve it with: “seeds have germinated.”

Stewartia malacodendron 'Beni suji'

Stewartia malacodendron

I have an old Stewartia malacodendron at Flora Farm and I prize it greatly, but I want to put another tree in just in case. I'll probably never harvest it because the southeastern USA native is considered difficult to transplant. My older specimen is shrubby and has a southward lean, and probably most in the wild are brushy and crooked as well, but the flowers in July-August, which Hillier describes as “white with purple stamens and bluish anthers,” are my favorite of the genus. The godfather of Japanese nurserymen, Akira Shibamichi, showed me a photo last fall of a S. malacodendron selection ('Beni suji') with streaked-red coloration in the white flower, and he grinned slyly, knowing that I would give anything to get my hands on it. The S. malacodendron is commonly called the “Silky Stewartia” due to the appearance and texture of the flowers, and Linnaeus coined the specific epithet which literally means “soft tree.” By the way, the tree that we will plant is one grafted onto S. pseudocamellia rootstock which is readily available in the trade. The graft union looks good at 5 years of age, but I have no clue about long-term compatibility...which is the point of planting it out.

Cercis canadensis 'Flame Thrower'

Cercis canadensis 'Golden Falls'

We placed a new Cercis canadensis cultivar, 'Flame Thrower', at Flora Farm and I sited it close to the driveway which pleased my wife because she loves the multi colors. The Neubauers of Hidden Hollow Nursery in Tennessee describe it well in their catalog: “This newcomer boasts a riot of color throughout the season; early shades of burgundy transition to coppery yellow and finish the season with hints of purple.” They also reveal that it was developed by Dr. Dennis Werner and the JC Raulston Arboretum. Dr. Werner has been busy with breeding “redbuds,” with new – but patented – cultivars such as 'Pink Pom Poms' and the weeping selection 'Golden Falls'. I haven't tested 'Golden Falls' outside, but I wish they hadn't used the same name as my weeping Acer palmatum.

Crataegus monogyna 'Flexuosa'

Crataegus monogyna is the “Common hawthorn” and it is native to Europe, north Africa and western Asia, and according to Hillier it is “A familiar native, extensively planted as a hedge throughout the British Isles.”Also, “In autumn its branches are often laden with red fruits, haws;” and since the branches are armed with serious thorns, you can understand the common name of “hawthorn.” The name “haw” was originally an Old English term for hedge, from the Anglo-Saxon haguthorn meaning “a fence with thorns.” The etymology for the name Crataegus is less certain, but could possibly be from Greek kratos for “strength” and aigos, perhaps from Greek aigilops for the Turkey oak, Quercus cerris. The specific epithet monogyna sounds kind of like a condition that a woman could get, but instead refers to “single-seeded.” I collected a scion of the cultivar 'Flexuosa' many winters ago – when no one was looking – and it has been in a container for the past 20 years. I hide it in the back of the row because it always looks horrible until winter when the crappy leaves have fallen and you can appreciate the twisted corkscrew branches. Maybe my specimen resented container culture, but I'm willing to give it a few years in the Flora Farm dirt, and if it doesn't perk up I will edit it from the scape.

Franklinia alatamaha

John Bartram

Franklinia alatamaha is extinct in the wild (from the Alatamaha River Valley in Georgia) but nobody knows what happened. It has a small genetic base because all plants currently in existence come from the collection of the Bartram nurserymen of Philadelphia, PA. John Bartram (1699-1777) was a third-generation Quaker and a friend of Benjamin Franklin, hence the genus name. Bartram started his nursery in 1728 on 102 acres. He collected native plants throughout the colonies and many of the species were sold to the British aristocracy. By the middle of the 18^th century, Bartram's garden contained the most varied collection of North American plants in the world. After the American Revolution his sons John Bartram Jr. and William Bartram continued with the international trade and expanded the family's botanic garden (which you can visit today). I always assumed that the Franklinia collected by Bartram was the one and only time it was seen in the wild, but Hillier says it was “perhaps last seen in the wild by the American collector, Lyon, in 1803.” John Lyon (1765-1814) was a Scottish botanist and plant collector, not American, but he made his career in America, leaving Scotland for unknown reasons, but sadly he died during his last expedition at a young age.

Franklinia alatamaha 'Wintonbury'

We planted a Franklinia alatamaha 'Wintonbury' yesterday at Flora Farm. I originally collected this cultivar because its flower was said to be larger than the type, but it seems about the same to me. According to our customer at Broken Arrow Nursery, 'Wintonbury' is “A selection made by Mark Sutcliffe from one of the largest plants growing in Connecticut. Plants exhibit typical Franklinia characteristics but also offer improved cold hardiness and disease resistance.” I know that an old specimen of regular Franklinia survives at the Arnold Arboretum near Boston so it's odd that Hillier relates: “It does not flourish in the British Isles and benefits from some glass protection.”

Cornus kousa 'Scarlet Fire'

I'll try again at Flora Farm by planting another Cornus kousa 'Scarlet Fire'...in a different location than where the deer ravaged my first tree a month ago. The problem is that at the bottom of my Upper Gardens is a 50-tree apple orchard where the deer stuff themselves. On their way back up the hill they snacked on my dogwood for dessert. 'Scarlet Fire' is a beauty in bloom with large fuchsia-red bracts that appear on trees even when young. The foliage is clean and rich looking when not in flower, then in autumn you have red foliage and pinkish-red fruits. 'Scarlet Fire' is the trade name for the patented Rutpinkwhich is from Rutgers University, their “first kousa introduction in 45 years of breeding.” We have learned to prune ours which are grown in containers because it can rain all day when they are in flower and the weight of water on the numerous bracts can damage branches. If placed in a greenhouse they grow even faster and they receive overhead water nearly every day in summer. I have read that at maturity 'Scarlet Fire' will grow nearly as broad as tall...but not if the deer get to it first.

Muhlenbergia 'Pink Flamingo'

I had no idea what a Muhlenbergia grass was until about seven years ago when I saw it used effectively at the North Carolina State Arboretum. When I saw the cultivar 'Pink Flamingo' listed for sale at the mail-order nursery Plant Delights I immediately ordered one. According to San Marcos Growers of California, it is both drought tolerant and resistant to deer predation, and you know I have the latter problem. The “Pink Muhly” is thought to be a hybrid between M. capillaris and M. lindheimeri that was discovered at Peckerwood Garden in Texas. The German naturalist J.C. von Schreber named the genus for Gotthilf Muhlenberg, a Lutheran minister, and as with so many of the Faithful, he devoted his extra time to the study of botany.

Cathaya argyrophylla

My oldest Cathaya argyrophylla is planted in the Conifer Field at Flora Farm, and while it has coned for a number of years the germination rate is very low (for me). I wanted to give it some company so we planted out a few more in the hopes of better fertility. Male and female inflorescences appear on the same tree, but maybe my specimen just wants to do it with someone else for a change. I've written about Cathaya before – it's a wonderful Chinese conifer – so I won't continue repeating the same information, the same information.

This blog was just an overview of some of the plants that were added at Flora Farm, and I hope that every one of them will outlive me.

“I make no promises, Talon”

P.S. Honestly, Flora Farm is not the “real world” at all; it is also a coddled environment where we irrigate, mow the grass, spray weeds and prune and stake. If I was to disappear from it for ten years with no attention to upkeep, probably 50% of the trees would look like hell or be dead, and blackberries and ivy would be smothering the remains. I might derive some sadistic joy from that as well, out of morbid curiousity...just to witness how brutally indifferent Nature can be. So don't lecture me, Flora.

If you consider the term Continental conifers you wouldn't be wrong to include those trees native to The Continent, i.e. Europe. Or you could define it differently...as in trees native to earth's various continents, all seven of them. Sadly there are no conifers extant in Antarctica* – one of the seven – but the other six do contain cone-bearing species, and they include North America, South America, Australia, Asia, the Arctic and yes, The Continent (Europe) too. Conifers are placed in the Order Coniferales which includes pines, firs, spruces, cypresses etc. The Latin name comes from conus for “cone” and ferre meaning to “bear” or “carry,” and that from the Proto-Indo-European root bher, meaning “to bear” or “to bear children.”

*Antarctica wasn't always frigid and conifers used to exist there. One Araucaria species, known as the “Norfolk Island pine” (Araucaria heterophylla) is known from the fossil record. 52 million years ago, before South America and Antarctica split, Norfolk Island pines were part of a rainforest that ranged across Australasia and Antarctica and up up into Patagonia.

Picea abies

I grow trees (or shrubs) from the remaining six continental locations, so let's consider some in their geographical distribution. Picea abies, the “Norway spruce,” is by definition from the Continent (Europe), but know that its range extends from northern Greece into the Arctic Circle, and also eastward to Poland and the Urals, the mountain range that basically separates Europe from Asia. I have seen the species in Greece, looking somewhat stunted, but I have never been to the Arctic or the Urals.

Old Tjikko

Probably the most famous Picea abies is not one of the myriad of today's cultivars, but rather Old Tjikko, the 9,550-year-old tree from Dalarna Province, Sweden, which makes it older than any Bristlecone pine (P. longaeva). It stands only 16' tall, and if you want to nit-pick it is a clonal tree, meaning that it regenerates new trunks and branches rather than being an individual tree of great age. Old Tjikko, named after the discoverer's dog, is surrounded by 20 other spruces, all over 8,000 years old. Due to heavy snow at their location on Fulufjallet Mountain, branches are weighted to the ground where they can take root which is why it is a clonal tree, and carbon dating estimates the age. A tree can't be much older from this area because the last ice age receded around 10,000 years ago. I would love to visit Old T. but one has to take a pre-booked guided tour in summer. That's probably best, so some blonde Norwegian knucklehead doesn't carve his initials or profess his love for his girlfriend on the trunk.

Pinus pinaster

An interesting European conifer, Pinus pinaster, is commonly known as the “Maritime pine” since it is native to the western Mediterranean region, and even extends to northern Africa. I don't grow it due to questionable hardiness, although I could keep one in the greenhouse I suppose. P. pinaster's canopy isn't particularly impressive, somewhat broad and colored light yellowish-green to bluish-green, but it sports the longest needles (in fascicles of two) of all European Pinus species. Due to straight trunks it is an important forestry tree in Europe, although it has become invasive in South Africa, Australia and Argentina. Besides timber, it is a source of turpentine. Ornamentally, the main event is the orange-brown to dark purple plating bark, but I suspect I would never see it as spectacular in the greenhouse compared with the outdoor-grown trunk photos above. Pinaster is Latin for “wild pine.”

Pinus canariensis

Pinus canariensis is endemic to the Canary Islands (Islas Kanarjas), a Spanish archipelago that is quite closer to Africa (Morocco - 62 miles or 100 km) than to Spain. So, though from Europe politically, I consider it part of the African continent. Like Pinus pinaster, the bark of the Canary Island pine is fissured into gray to reddish-brown plates, but to me the canopy of P. canariensis is more attractive than with P. pinaster because the foliage is a pretty, grass green. Alas, not hardy either.

Juniperus cedrus

I have written before about Juniperus cedrus – also from the Canary Islands – so I won't dwell on it much here. I had it early in my career, but lost it in the winter of the second year that it was planted out. Of course it died, and Rushforth in Conifers says, “In cultivation, it needs a warm sunny site, otherwise it is tender. Zone 9 [20 F].” A dozen years ago I acquired another clone of Juniperus cedrus and it has demonstrated greater hardiness, and even survived 5 degrees F a few years ago. It demonstrates that you can have significant variation within a species, and it's why I hate to provide hardiness ratings, as if I or anyone else is qualified to do so.

Widdringtonia schwarzii

Samuel Edward Widdrington

The genus Widdringtonia is in the Cupressaceae family and the evergreen is native to central and South Africa. I have seen most of the species in mild-area arboreta, but none have impressed me as much as W. schwarzii which comes from the Willowmore District in Cape Province. It forms a narrow tree when young, but grows up to 100' in the wild and the canopy eventually becomes quite broad. I've seen photos of old gnarled specimens with attractive reddish-gray bark. The genus name honors Edward Widdrington, a Royal Navy captain and conifer botanist who was active in the late 1700s and early 1800s. The specific epithet honors Friedrich Schwarz, a 20^th century cactus collector.

Afrocarpus usambarensis

Afrocarpus is a genus of six species in the Podocarpaceae family, and it was formally classified by John Theodore Buchholz, a professor of botany at the University of Illinois, the same botanist responsible for the segregation of Sequoiadendron as a separate genus from Sequoia. A. usambarensis is an evergreen conifer native to Rwanda, The Congo and Tanzania, and it is dioecious with male and female cones borne on separate plants. One must wonder how a genus in the podocarp family wound up in central Africa. The answer is that it was present in the ancient super continent of Gondwana which broke apart into the continents/countries containing South America, Africa, India, Australia and Antarctica between 160 and 30 million years ago. Yes, wow, land-masses floating and smashing into each other...and I would love to have a time-lapse photographic documentation of those events. Scientific evidence suggests that Africa drifted north into a more hot and more dry environment where the Podocarpaceae survived and thrived in the cool highlands of eastern and southern Africa. We have earlier seen how the Araucariaceae (as in the Norfolk Island pine) drifted north to its present position, and all you need is a couple of dozen millions of years to accomplish the process.

Araucaria bidwillii

An interesting conifer that is native to the Australian continent is Araucaria bidwillii. According to The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2019), “A large tree in the wild, much smaller in cultivation in the British Isles, with a dome-shaped crown, with long-reaching branches off the main straight trunk.” This species was first described by Bidwill in 1843 and the type location is in the Bunya Mountains, hence the common name of “Bunya Bunya tree.” The mountains were very significant to the indigenous people, and it was an area of major gatherings which occurred when the nuts of the Bunya pine ripened, from December to March. These were the largest indigenous gatherings in all of Australia, but sadly the events terminated in 1902. Araucaria bidwillii is the sole species in Section Bunya, except fossils of closely-related Araucaria mirabilis can be found in Patagonia, which is further evidence of the Gondwana split.

Araucaria cunninghamii

Allan Cunningham

Araucaria cunninghamii is commonly known as the “Hoop pine,” and the scientific epithet honors the botanist/explorer Allan Cunningham who collected the first specimens in the 1820s. The “hoop” name refers to the rough-barked trunk with circular markings. There is another form, A.c. var. papuana, that is found in the mountains of Papua New Guinea, and a third, var. glauca, that occurs on Magnetic Island off the coast of Queensland. A. cunninghamii is planted as an ornamental and is an important source of timber, and in the past it was used as masts for sailing ships, as the wood is soft but tough. The continent's champion tree measures 121' tall (37m) while the tallest is 144' tall (44m) in the Bunya mountains. A “champion” tree combines height, trunk circumference and crown spread.

Callitris macleayana

Callitris preisii

Callitris preissii

The Australian genus Callitris is commonly called a “Cypress pine,” although it is in the Cupressaceae family and not a pine at all. I have grown a couple of species, C. macleayana and C. preissii, but don't have these non-hardy species anymore because I gave them away to California customer-friends. Both are attractive in a rugged way at a mature size, but frankly they didn't look like much at a smaller size in my greenhouse. Sometimes I grow a species for five or six years and then I have had my fill of it, especially the ones that are not hardy in Oregon. C. macleayana is commonly known as the Stringybark pine for obvious reasons, but it can grow up to 131' tall (40m). C. preissii is endemic to Rottnest Island, Australia, and it has many common names ,but the Noongar people know it as marro. These aborigines live in the southwest of Australia, and have done so for over 45,000 years. Wanju Wanju Kaartdijin Noongar means “Welcome to Noongar knowledge.” One important demonstration of knowledge is that C. preissii is used along the Murray River as a combined canoe pole and fish spear nearly 13' (4m) long. All of the above photos were taken in mild-area arboreta, and I've never seen any Callitris in the wild.

Araucaria angustifolia

Let's head now to South America from Australia, a distance of 9,483 miles (15,261 km), where we also find Araucaria. Besides the universally-known Araucaria araucana (the “Monkey Puzzle tree”), a lesser-known species is A. angustifolia, the “Brazilian Monkey Puzzle,” and it differs with narrower leaves. The epithet angustifolia is from Latin angustusmeaning “narrow” and folium meaning “leaf.” According to Hillier it is endangered in the wild and rare in cultivation in the British Isles.

Podocarpus salignus

Also from South America is Podocarpus salignus, and according to Hillier, it's “A most attractive and elegant small tree or large shrub with drooping branches and long, narrow, bright grey-green leaves.” The evergreen is from southern Chile and is known as the “Willow-leaf podocarp.” Unfortunately it's not hardy for me, but I'd love to acquire one for the greenhouse. The above photo was taken in southern England and I envy their climate.

Abies religiosa

There are a great number of coniferous species from North America, and one of my favorites is the Mexican-Guatemalan Abies religiosa, the “Sacred Fir.” Though it is listed to USDA zone 8 (10F), I've had one in the collection for over 25 years, but it's difficult to photograph because the foliage is sooo dark green. The common name is due to its use as decoration in religious festivals, and to the indoctrinated the appearance of the needles along the stem resemble a cross. The fir was first described by Carl Kunth (1788-1850) but it was seen by my exploration heroes, the Europeans Humboldt and Bonpland before that (in the early 1800s).

Monarch butterflies in the Michoacan mountains

Twenty years ago I visited Mexico with my good friend R. Hatch, and one of my purposes – less so, his – was to venture into the Michoacán mountains to see the Abies religiosa forest, for that is where the Monarch butterflies congregate to overwinter and then mate. Wow – mating Monarchs! – it promised to be one of nature's greatest orgies, and I am pervert enough to want to voyeur. We arose early from Morelia – the state's capital city – and zoomed into the mountains to see the butterflies. Logging was evident, and habitat loss is one of the main threats to their survival. It was Hatch who prompted such an early start, and when we arrived at our destination it was barely light at 8:30 AM and there was frost upon the ground. It was cold; but after a half-mile walk we arrived at the area most populated by the winged creatures; we found masses lethargically sleeping upon the branches, with only a few fluttering about. At 5000-to-6000' elevation (I suppose) it was too early for the Monarchs to de-cling and become active, and since Hatch – not me – was anxious to press on I never did see them in full flutter, and I probably never will return.

The Pinophyta (known commonly as “conifers”) was estimated (in 1998) to contain 8 families, 68 genera and 629 living species...but I'm sure that numerous reclassifications in the past 22 years have skewed those figures. I suppose that the greatest number occur in the continent of Asia, but I've never done the counting. I read once that the greatest number of conifer species per a certain area of medium size was in California, and I thought – wait a minute! – I'll bet it is in Japan, not California. So, whatever the California number was, which I now forget, I went to my Hilliers Manual and counted those species native to Japan. It turns out that the California assertion was correct, but not by much.

Picea torano

In any case, let's consider one Asian conifer: Picea torano, previously known as P. polita, “from central Honshu, Japan, south to Shikoku and Kyushu” according to Rushforth in Conifers. Hillier (or the RHS) now contend that precedence insists upon P. torano (also hari momi) which is translated from Japanese as “tiger's tail” due to the viciously sharp needles...and my grafters can certainly attest to that unpleasant attribute. It is a beautiful, dense symmetrical species and I love its pitch-dripping cones. I have grown and sold P. torano for over 30 years and we propagate by grafting onto the “Norway spruce,” Picea abies. Rushforth is very paucus with P. torano information – and I wonder why – but he claims it is hardy to zone 6. That's a good guess, but I have a Michigan customer who repeatedly buys it and his customers garden in zone 5. Though it is a bitch to graft, the current-year's shoots are attractively blonde in color and the round buds are fascinating to me, very unlike any other spruce species. I wrote this last sentence from my couch at night, but the following morning I ventured out into the Upper Gardens to reconfirm my description, and yes, it is accurate.

Ginkgo biloba

Ginkgo biloba 'Saratoga'

Ok: I guess I have discussed all of the earth's continents...haven't I? Concerning conifers, do I have a favorite? Yes, of course I do – it is Ginkgo biloba – a sort-of-conifer according to many because it has deciduous leaves; but its botanic designation in the Coniferae is due to mobile sperm in its reproductive process. What?! – swimming seed?! – well, yes – that is in the definition.

As a member of the International Dendrology Society (IDS) I'm entitled to their annual yearbook, and I received my 2019 copy yesterday. Another benefit of the “Tree Society” is that a member can attend an IDS tour, although I never have, and the tour reports are presented in the following yearbook. Who knows how the IDS will flesh out its pages in the future due to Covid restricting travel for most of 2020?

Most of the IDS members are European, and well-heeled at that, but it's fun to read about their trips and how they balance luxury with the rusticity of good ol' nature. I read with particular interest about two IDS American members who led about 30 Euros on a 27 day tour of California, especially since I've been to nearly every place they visited, some quite a few times. Many Europeans harbor ill feelings towards Americans, but there's no way anyone could gripe about the wonderful assortment of trees native to the Golden state. The tour report was rendered by Professor Dr. M.A. Robischon of Humboldt Universitat zu Berlin, and more about Humboldt later.

Corymbia ficifolia

Since the California tour began in San Francisco, obviously a visit to the San Francisco Botanical Garden was in order, and a tree mentioned early in the article was Corymbia ficifolia. I have learned that arboreta must stay nimble with their nomenclature because just a short time ago Corymbia used to belong to the Eucalyptus genus. The tender “Ghost gum” from southwest Australia was separated from Eucalyptus because it possesses compound terminal flowers, and C. ficifolia's are scarlet-colored and borne in large corymbs at the ends of the branches. The first time I saw the tree I was most taken with the furrowed trunk, not the flowers, because I guess it was in autumn with flowering finished.

Arbutus 'Marina'

My first encounter with Arbutus 'Marina' was in the same botanic garden, but back then it was known as the Strybing Arboretum. Since San Francisco now administers the arboretum in its Parks system, there is a noticeable lack of funding, or so grumble the employees who preferred the old days. In any case the parentage of 'Marina' was not certain, but the 2019 edition of The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs proclaims it to be x reyorum which is A. x andrachnoides x A. canariensis, so a triple hybrid then. Hillier reveals that it “Performs best where summers are warm, especially in maritime gardens. Grown in California, USA, since at least 1933.” I saw 'Marina' used as a street tree – I think in nearby San Rafael – and I had an instant urge to move there.

Dacrydium cupressinum

Thomas Frederic Cheeseman

IDS Author Robischon mentions Dacrydium cupressinum growing in nearby Golden Gate Park, but I remember seeing the “Rimu pine” inside the Strybing as well. It's not a pine at all; it is in the Podocarpaceae family from New Zealand. Hillier relates that the graceful conifer was considered by the botanist Thomas Frederic Cheeseman (1845-1923) to be “as beautiful and attractive as any tree in New Zealand.” I agree, and I used to propagate (via rooted cuttings in winter) and sell it early in my career. Eventually I discontinued it because of lack of hardiness – it needed to stay above freezing – but also because cutting-grown trees, at least when young, tended to flop like limp branches. The young man (above) in the blue shirt is me, I guess from about 25 years ago when my hair was brown.

Alexander von Humboldt

Ceroxylon quindiuense

Ceroxylon hexandrum

One last plant that I'll describe from the Strybing – sorry I prefer the old name – is the “Andean wax palm,” Ceroxylon quindiuense. According to Robischon, it was “discovered for western science in 1801 by Alexander von Humboldt, which is also the tallest palm tree known.” I wrote about it in a previous blog, that it is a fun tree and the symbol of Columbia:

I encountered it at the Strybing Arboretum of San Francisco and I was certainly taken with the whimsical nature of the trunk. The related species hexandrum was growing nearby, also barber pole-like but not quite as exaggerated. Of course the trunk markings are the result of exising leaf fronds which is common with palms. The “Andean Wax Palm” is native to montane forests of Columbia and Peru and can reach an astounding 200’ tall. The genus name is derived from Latin cera for “wax” and Greek xulon for “wood.” In the past the stem wax of C. quindiusense was used for making candles, but later was replaced with artificial wax or by the arrival of electricity. Everything you could ever want to know about the genus can be found in Phytotaxa34, A Revision of the Andean Wax Palms, Ceroxylon (Arecaceae) by Maria Jose Santin and Gloria Galeano. The genus is of particular interest to me because specimens dotted the landscape in Peru when I visited in the early 1970’s and I guess I wasn’t expecting to see tall palms in the Andean foothills.

Cupressus macrocarpa

Cupresuss macrocarpa

The tour participants were lucky to visit the only two locations where the native Cupressus macrocarpa (“Monterey cypress”) are located – at the Point Lobos State Reserve and at the Del Monte Forest. I have been to both and it is difficult to imagine such a limited distribution when once it was more widespread. Their habitat is now defined by cool, moist summers and the ever-present sea fog; but they also grow well in western Oregon – I have some cultivars – although they are hardy to only about 10F. These days Cupressus macrocarpa is known by the cognoscenti as Hesperocyparis macrocarpa...but for commercial reasons, and out of laziness, this old nurseryman is slow to change (and the Hillier Manual also).

Hesperocyparis macrocarpa 'Goldcrest'

Hesperocyparis macrocarpa 'Greenstead Magnificent'

Hesperocyparis macrocarpa 'Wilma'

The new genus Hesperocyparis is supposedly based on genetic evidence that the New World Cupressus are not very closely related to the Old World Cupressus species, at least so say Adams, Bartel and Price (2009) in A new genus, Hesperocyparis, for the Cupressus of the Western Hemisphere in Phytologia 91 160-185. Anyway I grow 'Goldcrest' which is narrowly columnar and which features ascending golden branches with a pleasant aroma; and I have grown the popular cultivar 'Wilma', a juvenile form of 'Goldcrest' which can be found in florist shops and boutique emporiums,* but which for me always reverts back to the 'Goldcrest' foliage. I have had great success with the selection 'Greenstead Magnificent' which presents good blue foliage; and besides, Buchholz Nursery decided that the normally flat-growing dwarf would be better offered as a staked, upright tree, and our unique constructs easily sell out every year.

*Twenty years ago I was surprised/impressed to find 'Wilma' for sale in a Tokyo florist's kiosk.

La Jolla Beach

Ficus macrophylla

My wife and children absolutely love the beach at La Jolla, near San Diego, and they can spend most of a day in the water. I've evolved into a landlubber sitting in a beach chair with a cold beer, where the entertainment is observing the bikini-clad fauna of the area. After a couple days of that, however, I grew weary and had my wife drop me off at Balboa Park where I could be alone and visit the art museums, the tropical-plant conservatory, and the less than inspiring Japanese Garden, one of the worst that I've ever seen. In the middle of those attractions is a grass lot with a fenced off tree that had one of the widest canopies that I've ever seen, and thankfully the above sign identified the tree because I would never have known. Ficus macrophylla is not listed in The Hillier Manual, presumably because it is not hardy in Britain. It is a large evergreen tree in the Moraceae family native to eastern Australia, and the common name is due to one location at Moreton Bay in southern Queensland, Australia. Ficus macrophylla is a “strangler fig,” meaning that seeds germinate in the canopy of a host tree and they live as epiphytes until the descending roots make contact and grow into the ground. At that point the ungrateful seedling enlarges and eventually strangles its host and stands by itself. Another interesting characteristic is that it has a mutual relationship with fig wasps, where figs are only pollinated by fig wasps, and fig wasps can reproduce only in fig flowers.

John Torrey

Asa Gray

Pinus torreyana

Pinus torreyana witch's broom

Brief mention is given to “the smallest native range of any American pine species” which is Pinus torreyana at two locations north of San Diego. Robischon said that they could not visit Torrey State Park by buss but doesn't explain why as a good road goes up the hill to the visitor center. On my visit a couple of years ago I even spotted a witch's broom mutation en route. The pines are beautiful from a rugged wind-swept point of view, and the species is unusual botanically because it is a “yellow pine” but the needles are presented in fascicles of five, when usually similar pine species have needles bundled in two's or three's. The specific epithet honors John Torrey (1796-1873), an American botanist, and by coincidence the 2019 IDS Yearbook also features “The Tree of the Year” which is the oriental Torreya nucifera. Torrey was perhaps America's most esteemed botanist of his time and his pupil and friend Asa Gray continued his work. In 2017 the Torrey Botanical Society celebrated its 150^thbirthday, and is the oldest botanical society in the Americas. By the way, Torrey was a New Yorker and he never did see the rare groves that bear his name, so when I was there I didn't walk in his footsteps. I did walk carefully and stayed on the paths through the chaparral, as a sign alerts you to do so on account of rattlesnakes.

Karl Ludwig von Blume

Eucalyptus deglupta

Back at Balboa Park, the IDS group saw Eucalyptus deglupta – the “Rainbow gum” – and the guide even sprayed water on the trunk to show off the wonderful colors. Somehow I missed it when I was there – maybe I needed a guide with a spray bottle – but I have seen it in other southern California arboreta. I've been tempted to buy seeds of it (which are available on eBay), but what do I do when the fast-growing, non-hardy species hits the top of my greenhouse? The E. deglupta species was first described by Karl Ludwig von Blume (1796-1862), a German-Dutch botanist, and the specific epithet deglupta was chosen from a Latin word meaning “peeled off” or “husked..” It can now be found throughout the world's mild locations and the wood is harvested for pulp – but what a shame to cut one down. Also known as the “Mindanao gum,” it is native to Papua New Guinea, the Philippines and Indonesia and its range actually extends into the northern hemisphere, the only species to do so. Out of about 700 Eucalyptus species, only four do not occur in Australia, and E. deglupta is the only species usually found in rainforests.

Huntington Botanic Garden

Henry Huntington

The Europeans were treated to a visit to the Huntington Botanical Gardens, which throughout the article is misnamed Huntingdon, which certainly would have annoyed the railroad magnate Henry Huntington (1850-1927). In any case, Henry H paid $240,000 for his 600-acre ranch in San Marino (near Los Angeles) in 1903, and the orange marmalade you can buy in the gift shop is made from fruit grown on the ranch. Besides the gardens there is an art gallery containing such works as Blue Boy by Thomas Gainsborough, Pinkie by Thomas Lawrence and a library with treasures such as one of only two known copies of the first published version of Shakespeare's Hamlet. When Henry H. was asked about any plans to write an autobiography, he responded, “This library will tell the story.” A bit more bizarre is that the library holds a lock of Abraham Lincoln's hair which the embalmer cut near the vicinity of the fatal wound. Also, a handwritten note from Lincoln to his bodyguard giving him the night off the evening he was shot.

Huntington Desert Garden

Echinocactus grusonii

Puya alpestris

The botanic garden contains various individual gardens such as a desert garden, a palm garden, rose, camellia, herb and jungle gardens, as well as Japanese and Chinese gardens. I estimate that it would take at least three full days to see it all, and you would probably want to visit in both spring and autumn. My favorite is the desert garden even though I know very little about the plants therein. I was also impressed with the gardener who was on his hands and knees, gingerly pulling the weeds. The Huntington is surrounded now by a neighborhood of middle-class homes, and I fantasize about living just a couple of blocks away from this national treasure. Is it too late to apply as an intern?

Sequoiadendron giganteum

I'll repeat that I've never been on an IDS tour, and certainly not on this California trip. My blog is not a chronological travelogue, rather just my impression of the plants and places that the lucky Europeans were able to experience, mostly from the southern half of the state. I'll continue next week with a Part 2, where the best trees are yet to come.

The International Dendrology Society (IDS)-sponsored tour to California was the subject of last week's blog, and even though I wasn't on the trip the 2019 yearbook's account prompted memories of my occasional visits to the Golden state. I have and will take the liberty to jump around chronologically and to bounce from north to south to mid-California locations at will because my recollections need not adhere to the logistics of the real itinerary. The IDS Yearbook rendition was presented by Professor Dr. M.A. Robischon of Humboldt Universitat zu Berlin, and most participants on the tour were from Europe. Perhaps the Euros have mixed feelings about the unique arrogance of America, but I'm sure that all were in awe with the floral wealth evident from California.

Arbutus menziesii

Quercus agrifolia

In midwest California one crosses the Golden Gate Bridge to head to Sonoma Valley and the very interesting Quarryhill Botanical Garden, and yes the grounds were once a quarry. The native flora of Arbutus menziesii and Quercus agrifolia is blended with an Asian collection, some of which would not survive in my Oregon winter.

Acer pentaphyllum

As an example of non-hardy (for me) taxa, Robischon writes: "There are still some of the Acer pentaphyllum that the IDS planted on the 2010 tour as an ex-situ conservation project, though half were lost in the October 2017 forest fire." Hopefully the rattlesnakes were able to slither to safety. A. pentaphyllum is an endangered species endemic to southwestern Sichuan, and the University of British Columbia Botanic Garden also has an ex-situ program to ensure survival of the species. Despite the non-hardiness, I still like to keep a few specimens in the collection, and we have propagated by seed, rooted cuttings under mist in summer, and also by grafting onto Acer rubrum rootstock. Early in my career I tried to over winter outdoors an A. pentaphyllum on A. rubrum rootstock -- and it was a sturdy 2" caliper specimen. By July I concluded that the top was definitely dead while A. rubrum suckers popped out below the graft union, and our low that winter was 7F. The largest, oldest A. pentaphyllum that I'm aware of is from the original Joseph Rock seed collection, and one was planted at the Western Hills Garden in Occidental near Bodega Bay, or at least I hope it is still there. A sister seedling was contained at the Strybing Arboretum in San Francisco, and since I couldn't find it on my last visit (8 years ago), I queried the staff, but the two workers looked confused and uncertain, suggesting that the tree had probably died. If so, then plant another for Heaven's sake!

Acer morrisonense

The IDS yearbook mentions that they saw the relatively tender Acer morrisonense at Quarryhill. The RHS's The Hiller Manual of Trees and Shrubs(2019) claims A. morrisonense is a synonym for the more correct classification of A. rubescens and describes it as "A small, spreading snake-bark maple, the bark green striped on both sides, usually with 5 sharply toothed lobes, the terminal lobe tapered to a fine point."De Beaulieu in An Illustrated Guide to Maples (2003) doesn't list A. morrisonense or rubescens, but rather goes with A. caudatifolium Hyata (1911) which "grows in mountain forests on the island of Taiwan." So: three different specific epithets from three experts; oh well, I don't grow it anymore due to hardiness limitation, and every winter my A. morrisonense [sic] would barely survive but the bark would always split along the trunk.

Persea thunbergii

Robischon recounts Persea thunbergii in the Lauraceae family at Quarryhill, that it is "often used as a rootstock for grafting avocado selections, but also has a traditional use to stupefy fish for catching." I often wondered if my ex employees essenced their caffeine-sugary energy drinks with P. thunbergii. P. americana from Central America is the scion species used to produce avocado for food, while P. thunbergii is a large tree in the wild to 30m (almost 100' tall). I have seen the Asian species (Taiwan, Japan, China and South Korea) at the Rhododendron Species Botanic Garden in Washington state and I would love to have it in my arboretum. It is unremarkable for most of the year, but I greatly admired the rich mahogany-red new growth which appears in May. And, if I could acquire P. thunbergii I would probably throw a few logs into my Tualatin River fishing hole to see if it actually stupefies anything. That's the little boy that's always in me.

Robert Fortune

Pseudolarix amabilis

A nice photo of Quarryhill's Pseudolarix amabilis cones is presented in the yearbook, and I'm always interested to learn more about the "Chinese golden larch," since I have grown it in the past, and one older specimen remains in the Upper Gardens at Flora Farm. Alas, nothing was written, and I already know that Pseudolarix amabilis(meaning "beautiful") is a slow-growing, deciduous, medium-sized tree with a broad canopy. Cones develop and then disintegrate in one season, and according to Hillier, "On a large tree they stud the long, slender branches, resembling small, pale green artichokes, bloomy when young, reddish brown when ripe. E. China." Pseudolarix is a monotypic genus and it was introduced by the Scottish botanist, plant hunter and thief Robert Fortune in 1852, when his main purpose in China was to acquire tea plants (Camellia sinensis) and tea processing information on behalf of the British East India Company. Fortune was successful, though he would probably have been executed if caught, and so he helped found the tea-growing enterprise in India to the delight of most British citizens.

Pinus longaeva in the White Mountains

The California tour must have given the participants lasting memories of the other-worldly bristle cone (Pinus longaeva) pines near the top of the White Mountain Range on the eastern border near Nevada. Though covered in snow and inaccessible in winter, the air is dry most of the time, and many of the old specimens persist for hundreds of years as dead sculptures, every bit as interesting in death as when alive. Members visited the Schulman Grove at 10,000' where the "Methuselah tree" lives -- unsigned for its protection -- and at 4,852 years of age is known as the oldest non-clonal tree in the world. The old guy was examined by Edmund Schulman in 1957 by counting tree rings to determine that its germination date was 2,833 BC, and one can research precipitation patterns for over 4,000 years. The seeds are dispersed by "Clark's nutcracker" (Nucifraga columbiana), but one doesn't encounter too many young seedlings. Further up the road from Schulman is the Patriarch Grove which is at 11,000' in elevation. The road ends and tree-lovers stumble about in the surreal, bright, thin-air environment. There are a few Pinus flexilis -- the 'Rocky Mountain Limber pine" -- at the Patriarch grove, but most grow at a lower elevation. I suppose they could hybridize since I grow a P. flexilis - P. aristata cross.

Half Dome at Yosemite National Park

Pinus jeffreyi at Yosemite National Park

I have described Yosemite National Park in the past as the Disneyland of Nature, and even this grizzly-old Oregonian takes his hat off to the state we love to hate. A favorite place is Olmsted Point where one is treated with spectacular views south into the Tenaya Canyon, with the northside of Half Dome in the distance. From the parking lot you can see numerous glacial erratics and indeed Half Dome was carved by ice thousands of years ago. My favorite tree in all of Yosemite is a lone Pinus jeffreyi, growing out of a crack in the granite. To my amazement, considering the numerous tourists, the trunk was spared from vandalism for maybe hundreds of years. Then on my last visit ten years ago, a knuckle-dragging city dick had defaced it with his initials. I know he was male because certainly no woman would ever do such a thing. I suppose I would have murdered him if I caught him in the act, and thrown his body into the canyon; or maybe allow him to live, with dumb ass carved onto his forehead.

Juniperus occidentalis at Yosemite

Quercus vacciniifolia

One can easily and safely scramble up and down Yosemite's granite slopes, marvelling how trees can gain purchase and survive where you see almost no soil. Juniperus occidentalis subsp. australis (the "Sierra juniper"), with their warm reddish-tan trunks look like giant bonsai specimens. Where more soil is present the brushy "Huckleberry oak," Quercus vacciniifolia, can be seen. When single I once spent most of a day roaming the area around Olmsted Point, as happy as I've ever been...far away from the tourists, but relieved that I didn't get lost. Why does the name "Olmsted" ring a bell for a Yosemite "Point?" The site was named for landscape architects Frederick Law Olmsted and Frederick Law Olmsted, Jr., the foremost landscape designers of their time, including New York City's Central Park, and who championed the concept of National Parks for the bettermen of the American people. After their brief Yosemite adventure the IDS group descended from 8000' altitude into the Valley with its crowds, but were pampered for three nights at the historic Ahwahnee Hotel, a luxury I never felt I could afford.

Pinus balfouriana 'Horseshoe Pillar'

Pinus balfouriana 'Horseshoe Needle'

Pins balfouriana witch's broom

Of the three species of "Bristlecone pines," P. longaeva, P. aristata and P. balfouriana, the latter can be accessed from various eastern portals of the Sierra Nevada. I think it was on a previous IDS visit that the late JRP van Hoey Smith christened a particularly narrow tree 'Horseshoe Pillar'. That's not really a cultivar because at 9000' elevation there are a number of very narrow P. balfouriana in the same vicinity. Nevertheless the 'Horseshoe Pillar' -- named for the Horseshoe Lake trailhead -- made it into Conifers, The Illustrated Encyclopedia (on page 442) by D.M. van Gelderen and J.R.P. van Hoey Smith, a 1996 publication. No mention is made of the Horseshoe Lake range of P. balfouriana on the 2019 tour, but there is another photo of the species at Onion Valley on page 441, and the IDS did visit there in 2019. Onion Valley is in the John Muir Wilderness and other conifers include Pinus flexilis and Abies magnifica, according to Professor Robischon, and he also relates that the P. balfouriana species "can grow to an altitude of more than 3,300m (10,826') above sea level."At both of the rare P. balfouriana locations one might encounter witch's broom mutations in the canopies of the old specimens. Though it is forbidden to cut down or gather plant material from these locations, a dozen years ago a few harmless shoots found my pockets and I utilized them...for, um, research purposes. In the Conifersbook, VHS says that P. balfouriana is "Unfortunately hard to propagate." He is right, and I've tried a number of rootstocks.

Keteleeria fortunei

One location that I have not been to previously is Humboldt State University, but the IDS participants were led on a tour of the campus "which holds an extensive collection of conifers." I have driven past the campus but I didn't notice unusual or exotic trees, but I'll put it on my to-do list, and hopefully a bright coed can lead me to the choice specimens. The campus features Keteleeria fortunei, a small evergreen conifer from south China with erect cones resembling the Abies genus. Hillier says "It needs a sheltered position and may be damaged by late spring frosts." One difference between Keteleeria and Abies is that the Abies (true fir) cones ripen and disintegrate in one season, but the Keteleeria cones ripen in the second year, then fall intact. The generic name honors J.B. Keteleer (1813-1903), a French-Belgic gardener-nurseryman.

Amentotaxus argotaenia

Another conifer at Humboldt -- hardy to 10 F -- is Amentotaxus formosana. I grow the genus in the greenhouse, but only the species argotaenia from China, not the Taiwan form. In any case, the "Catkin yew," in the Taxaceae family from Formosa (Taiwan) was once recognized as a variant of A. argotaenia, so there's not a lot of difference. The generic name is from ament or amentum for "catkin" and was coined by Robert Knud Friedrich Pilgher, a German conifer botanist, and the South American genus Pilgerodendron uviferum was named for him. We root Amentotaxus from hardwood cuttings in winter, and while they're not difficult to propagate we don't grow many, and I would never dare to attempt it outdoors in Oregon.

The General Sherman Sequoiadendron

Sequoia sempervirens

In various stages the participants witnessed Sequoia and Sequoiadendron, and if it was the first time for either, one stands stupefied at their enormity, with Sequoia being the tallest trees on earth and the Sequoiadendron being the most massive. The latter was onced placed in the Sequoia genus, but J.T. Buchholz of the University of Illinois segregated them in the 1950's. The similarity of the generic names still confuses many, as an author and historian from nearby Forest Grove thought -- and put in print -- that the local 150-year-old Sequoiadendron specimens were endemic to the California coast. The largest Sequoiadendron ("Giant Redwood"), the General Sherman tree, can be found growing in the Sequoia National Forest, to add to the novice's confusion. Another identity problem is that the "Coast Redwoods" (Sequoia) can produce Sequoiadendron-like foliage at the top which will litter the grounds beneath after a strong windstorm.

Metasequoia glyptostroboides

I know that most denizens of Forest Grove didn't follow the previous paragraph and really don't give a hoot about dendrological classification, but maybe simple education would help. At the Schulman Grove mentioned earlier a Pinus flexilis and a Pinus balfouriana were planted next to the visitor center entrance to help "educate" the public. Rogers Park in Forest Grove is popular with mothers and children. Across the street -- before the park even existed -- were two of the 150-year-old Giant Redwoods. One was cut down to save a beater house, while the remaining tree still stands in front of the Lutheran Church, and hopefully divine intervention will allow it to remain. Twenty years ago I donated a good sized Metasequoia glyptostroboides to the park and it is doing well. After all Metasequoia used to be native in Oregon, if you can believe that. So, the park itself and close by contain two-thirds of the Sequoia genera, and I offed a Sequoia sempervirens to complete the cast, and I even imagined that a nice interpretive sign would help educate the moms and kids, but I was told that there "wasn't enough room" by city functionaries. There is absolutely enough room, but so much for city planners.

The last page of the yearbook is an account about the IDS with its history and purpose. "The aims of the Society are to promote the study of woody plants and shrubs and to conserve and protect those that are rare and endangered."Amen.

Nobody was at the nursery this past weekend, no employees, visitors or supply companies, and I had the place all to myself. I relish these times and I feel free to do whatever I want, when in contrast my typical business days are spent in the service and organization of others. Alone, I am able to commune with myself, but sometimes that's not good. There are times when I dwell on the negative: the weeds, the newly potted flat of plants without a label, mildew on maple leaves, the dead tree that nobody hauled away, the tool left out etc. When I saw all of the conifer understock I fretted about the task ahead to prune and graft the many thousands, especially with old Buchholz bending and reaching to cut the scions.

Anyway, I like to make work lists on the weekend, such as the one above, where the men get the heavier lifting assignments and the women are given lighter work since their nimble fingers are better suited. I don't care if that's sexist of me, I've been doing it that way for 40 years.

Acer longipes 'Gold Coin'

On my work-list mission, one greenhouse contained my one-and-only pot of Acer longipes 'Gold Coin' which was gifted to me by Carl at Munn's Nursery in Oregon. Acer longipes is a hardy species (USDA zone 5) from Sichuan province, China, and was specifically epithetinized due to its long, pointed lobes. A subspecies of A. longipes is amplum, which is maybe a zone less hardy, but still can survive down to -10F, and if it gets any colder than that, then I'll call it quits. The cultivar 'Gold Coin' is of the amplumsubspecies and it was introduced by Esveld of Boskoop, The Netherlands in 1985. I knew that I didn't have a photo of 'Gold Coin' so I dashed back to the office and exchanged my work-list clipboard for my camera to record the beautiful autumn color. Thus, I spent the rest of the afternoon on a happy note, forgetting about work and any negativity, and I wandered from plant to plant to see how they were showing off.

Acer palmatum 'Asayake'

Oh look: another one-of maple is Acer palmatum 'Asayake', and I was given my start by the Nichols boys of MrMaple in North Carolina. I previously didn't understand why the seedling selection was given cultivar status – just another reddish light-green laceleaf when we already have so many. MrMaple describes it a bit differently, saying that it “displays a golden yellow color with a purple spring border when grown in morning sun to full sun.”Hmm, I look forward to observing it next spring with more diligence, because at first I dismissed it as a non-event. Now, in early winter, I find the golden yellow-orange leaves to be delightful, especially as the branches cascade downward. I have had similar experiences with other Acer cultivars, where I detect little of interest initially, but eventually I savor their unique characteristics at a later date...kind of like my reaction to some people I encounter. MrMaple says that the name 'Asayake'means “the colors of sunrise,” while my bilingual 14-year-old explains that asameans “morning” and yakemeans “burning,” but when combined, asayakemeans “sunrise.” Sic,then.

Acer palmatum 'Ilarian'

Further along in the greenhouse is Acer palmatum 'Ilarian', named in honor of the highschool Hispanic boy who worked for me 20 years ago. When pruning seedling rootstock he discovered one with variegated leaves, and, somewhat familiar with the myriad of colorful cultivars at Buchholz Nursery, he proudly showed me what he had found at the end of the work day. I praised him for being engaged and observant – an employer's dream really – and I said that we would grow it on, and if it amounted to anything I would name it after him. Well, it did and so I did, and my only regret is that it was christened 'Ilarian' when his name was actually spelled Ilarion, and it was a mindless office lady who mispeled his name for the two or three summers that he worked for me.

Acer palmatum 'Ilarian'

Ilarion with 'Ilarian'

Ilarion went off to college, the first in his family to actually graduate from high school, then from college besides, and we didn't see him for a dozen years. Then one day my wife Haruko bumped into him at a dance recital, for she was involved with my daughter's performance, while Ilarion was escorting his niece, if I remember correctly. Their reunion was fantastic for both, and Il came out to revisit the nursery. To his amazement I kept my word about his maple discovery, and I actually gave him a tree to take home. Now, he has become a man, but he never lost his pleasant boyish smile. The branchlet that I found last Sunday looks like fresh spring growth, but here it has sprouted at the beginning of winter, perhaps caused by a pruning in August. Since we began propagating A.p. 'Ilarian' I suppose we have distributed a couple thousand already, and I know that others are also growing it. What a great find, both the kid and his maple!

Ginkgo biloba 'Autumn Gold'

Ginkgo biloba 'Autumn Gold' isn't grown much anymore. The supposedly male clone actually produces fruit at an advanced age, so growers are unable to tell if it is male, female, bisexual or transgender...which appears to be the Waythese days. Nobody wants a fruit-producer for an ornamental because of the disagreeable vomit-smell of the seed flesh, even though 'Autumn Gold' was originally championed as a fruitless male with a nice form. I have dealt with Ginkgo's murky sexuality expressions before so I won't rehash it now, but I challenge and welcome anyone to put me straight if you can prove that I am mistaken.

Larix kaempferi 'Peve Tunnis'

Engelbert Kaempfer

Every so often the rain would stop and the sun supplied its feeble glow in the landscape, so I ventured outside to follow the light. The Larix (true larch) are in transition from summer's needled shoots to naked stems, hopefully to resprout again in April. One of my favorite of the dwarves is L. kaempferi 'Peve Tunnis' with its blue-green foliage and neat, flattened globe shape. There are a number of ornamentals tagged “Peve,” such as Taxodium distichum 'Peve Minaret', Acer palmatums 'Peve Starfish' and 'Peve Multicolor' etc., and it simply means that the selection originated at Piet Vergeldt's nursery in Lottum, The Netherlands, one of the most impressive nurseries in all of Europe. The mutation was discovered on a “Japanese larch” (L. kaempferi) at Saint Anthonis that the locals call Saint (Sint) Tunnis. My crops grow to about 20” wide by 15” tall in 10 years, or a little more slow and compact in the garden. The word Larixhas a Latin origin, while larchis from German Lärche, from Old High German larihha. The specific epithet honors Engelbert Kaempfer (1651-1716), the German physician, naturalist and explorer who travelled in Russia, India and Japan, and who wrote Flora Japonica and History of Japan. While visiting Buddhist monks in Nagasaki, he was the first Westerner to describe Ginkgo biloba, and in fact brought back seeds that were planted in the botanical garden at Utrecht, The Netherlands, and I have seen one such tree in that garden, the oldest in the world outside of Asia.

Rehderodendron macrocarpum

Alfred Rehder

Back in the greenhouse, my solo Rehderodendron macrocarpum was brilliant with rich red autumn color, and I really should get the 10' tree out into the arboretum. This Chinese species was discovered on Emei Shan by botanist Wang in 1931, and introduced by Professor Hu as recent as 1934, but it is still rarely seen in gardens. I first saw a mature specimen at the Washington Park Arboretum in Seattle, and I propagated by grafting onto Styrax japonicus rootstock, since it is in the Styracaceae family. The grafts took and I sold all, saving just one for myself, but that tree eventually died. Brian Humphrey in The Bench Grafter's Handbooksuggests Pterostyrax hispida for rootstock, and comments: “Good takes and short-term compatibility, but long-term compatibility is in doubt.” My one tree that I now have was acquired from the Rhododendron Species Botanical Garden in Washington state, but I don't know if it originated as a seedling or if it was cutting grown. The generic name honors Alfred Rehder (1863-1949), a taxonomist and dendrologist at the Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University. Rehder produced his Manual of Cultivated Trees and Shrubs Hardy in North Americaand he also named and systemized many of E.H. Wilson's new introductions from China.

Rhododendron 'Airy Fair'

Rhododendron 'Airy Fairy' in Hatch garden

I propagated a few plants of Rhododendron x'Airy Fairy' a few years ago after seeing it in bloom at friend R. Hatch's garden. Although horrifically named – I thought Hatch was joking at first – I fell for the cross of R. lutescens xR. mucranulatum 'Cornell' which was achieved by Francis Maloney and introduced in 1976. My few starts bloomed in the greenhouse this past April, and I even planted one out in the garden. For some reason a single flower chose November to appear, and the pink color is set off nicely against the reddish-purple leaves. In the same greenhouse I have Camellias in fat bud, and a few C. williamsii 'Water Lily' are in full flower. The Camellias went from being a recent hobby for me – I didn't have even one on the place 8 years ago – to production of about 10 cultivars now. The greenhouse is kept above freezing which allows me to enjoy two springs, one inside, beginning now, and the second arriving later outside in the garden.

Schima argentea

Camellias are in the tea family, Theaceae, and so is Schima argentea, a bushy tree with small, creamy white, fragrant, Camellia-like flowers in late summer. The evergreen leaves are glossy green above with silvery undersides (hence the specific epithet argentea). The Poly Hill Arboretum in Massachusetts claims it to be hardy to USDA zone 5, but I really don't believe that, while the Rhododendron Species Botanical Garden suggests 10F, or USDA zone 8, a huge difference. My one tree came from the latter garden, from wild-collected seed; but with a wide range in Asia from Nepal to Taiwan, I suppose individual populations could vary in hardiness. I guess I'll sow some seed, but frankly I hope to not germinate too many, for ultimately I consider it to be a BIO genus (Botanical Interest Only). According to William McNamara of the Quarryhill Botanic Garden in California, Schima is called chilauneby the Nepalese locals and “the leaves and roots are used for fevers and the bark is sometimes used for intestinal worms.” For whatever reason the Latin name Schimais thought to be a modification of Greek skiasmafor “shadow,” but honestly I don't see any connection.

Metapanax delavayi in November

Metapanax delavayi in Spring

Another evergreen, a questionably-hardy tree is Nothopanax delavayi and I've had it in the greenhouse for about 12 years, ever since it was gifted to me by Far Reaches Nursery in Washington state. Somewhere along the way the generic name was changed to Metapanax, with metameaning “akin to,” as in Metasequoia, while nothois from Greek meaning “spurious, illegitimate or false.” In The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs(2019) M. delavayi is described as an elegant species “that forms a large shrub with up to 7 narrow leaflets in a hand-like arrangement,” and that it is native to southwest China and North Vietnam. Metapanax is sometimes referred to as the “pot aralia” due to the leaves resembling the “hippy lettuce” (Marijuana), but in Yunnan, China, the leaves are used as a tea in folk medicine, and perhaps can reduce prostate enlargement. Not surprisingly the word panaxis Greek for “all healing” and shares the same origin as panacea. Ginseng (Panax ginseng) is a widely used and acclaimed herb and it is often prized for its human shape, with a body, arms and legs, and I saw well-turned specimens offered in a Beijing “pharmacy” for thousands of dollars in the 1980s. No one could answer the question – back then – of who could afford it.

Hamamelis mollis 'Wisley Supreme'

We planted a Hamamelis mollis 'Wisley Supreme' in the garden a month ago, and since it is new for me, I look forward to the promise of “large, pale yellow, sweetly scented flowers”from December to March, according to Hillier. The leaf photo above is from a greenhouse specimen, so I also look forward to “rich yellow autumn colour.” H. mollis is the “Chinese witch hazel” and it was first introduced by Charles Maries in 1879 while he was collecting for the Veitch Nurseries in England, then later by Augustine Henry and E.H. Wilson. The specific epithet mollisis due to the softly hairy leaves, a word that is the root of mollify, akin to Greek amaldynein, and Sanskrit mrdufor “soft.”

Quercus alnifolia

I have not tried Quercus alnifolia outside, for it is known as the “Golden oak of Cyprus” and so I question its hardiness. The evergreen has relatively small rounded green leaves on the upper surface, but an interesting golden-orange beneath. I have an 8' tree gifted to me by Guy Meacham of PlantMad Nursery a few years ago, and he lifted a leaf for me to show off the color beneath, and now I do the same for my visitors. My one tree has yet to produce acorns, but I hope it does in my lifetime. Q. alnifolia is native to the Troodos Mountains, where I have never been, which is the largest mountain range in Cyprus, located in the center of the island. Its highest peak is Chionistra at 1952 m (6404 ft). Not far from Cyprus is the island of Rhodes, politically part of Europe, but geographically connected to Asia, and we grow the “Valonia oak,” Q. ithaburensis subsp. macrolepis. The cultivar 'Hemelrijk Silver' has been successful in our outside collection at Flora Farm for the past two years.

Below are a few more images from the nursery that I saw this special weekend.

Acer palmatum 'Sango kaku'

Picea pungens 'Herman Naue'

Acer palmatum 'Ghost Dancer'

Metasequoia glyptostroboides 'Daweswood Tawny Fleece'

Acer palmatum 'Orion'

Cornus florida 'Ragin Red'

Acer sieboldianum 'Seki no kegon'

Aesculus hippocastanum 'Wisselink'

Acer palmatum 'Japanese Princess'

Acer palmatum

Acer palmatum 'Tiger Rose'

Cornus kousa 'Summer Fun'

Acer pictum 'Usu gumo'

Cornus controversa

Acer palmatum 'Peve Starfish'

Sorbus sargentiana

Magnolia macrophylla

Acer pictum 'Naguri nishiki'

Acer palmatum 'Usu midori'

Cercis canadensis 'Black Pearl'

Quercus garryana

Acer japonicum 'Giant Moon'

Acer palmatum 'White Peaches'

Diospyros virginiana 'Magic Fountain'

Helwingia chinensis 'BLF' (male)

Aquilegia longiflora

Acer palmatum 'Lileeanne's Jewel'

When I returned home the sun briefly appeared for a last hurrah. The earth was soaked and the empty field looked dreamy. Note the Ginkgo biloba 'Chi Chi' in the foreground; this is the first time they failed to color brilliantly, as they went from green to brown. I suspect that they were troubled by our weeks of toxic smoke caused by the western wildfires.

You know the old saying: Everything is 20/20 in hindsight. I would alter that to say 2020 was terrible in hindsight.

I am an old man, and I was already old ten years before now when employee Seth and I began the Flora Wonder Blog. I take the photos and write the drivel, then Seth enters it into the Blogspot format, a template that we're stuck with, one which limits layout creativity and which has become worse since Google bought the company a year ago.

In any case today's blog will be a rerun of one we did in the early years. I attended the Maple Society Symposium which was hosted by the Arboretum Wespelaar in Belgium, and on the last day companion Phil Turrell and I ditched the group and we were able to combine plants with European art for a most memorable day.

European Trip Day 8

"Brewer of Ghent"

Ghent

For our last full day in Europe, we drove a short distance from Antwerp to Ghent. The morning's business would not be plants, it would be art. We parked the car in the old center, the very old picturesque center, and were immediately greeted by an impressive statue of Jacob van Artevelde, the 14th century "Brewer of Ghent," also known as the "Wise Man." He was a political leader, having made his fortune in the weaving industry. Well, he wasn't so wise after all; he pissed off the pope and was excommunicated, then eventually was murdered by a mob.

Saint Bavo Cathedral

The Ghent Altarpiece

Anyway, Ghent is a beautiful old city, still vibrant after many centuries, with old buildings and pretty canals. Our destination was the Saint Bavo Cathedral, over a thousand years old and home of the "Ghent Altarpiece," also known as the "Adoration of the Mystic Lamb." This altarpiece by the van Eyck brothers in the 1400's is considered one of the greatest works in western art. I longed to see it for many years, then found it to be more wonderful in person than I ever could have imagined. There was a lot of additional art in this old building, including a sprawling "Saint Bavo Entering the Cathedral" by Rubens.

Honestly, the primary motivation for me to attend the International Maple Symposium was not maples and other trees, it was the art. I should confess that on day one, en route to the nurseries in southern Netherlands, we stopped at the Mauritshuis Museum in The Hague to see Vermeer's "Girl with a Pearl Earring," a number of Rembrandt's, a van Gogh and much more. It was all housed in an elegant building with Vermeer's beautiful girl pictured in front. So while Buchholz Nursery paid for a plant trip, a little fun on the side was irresistible.

Mauritshuis

Strangely enough, even after seeing blood pouring out of the mystic lamb in the Ghent Altarpiece, we were hungry. Crossing the cathedral square, we entered a little café where Phil fulfilled his tourist's requirement and ate a plate of Belgian waffles. Then we went in search of the Ghent University Botanic Garden.

Cornus tonkinensis

Cornus hongkongensis

Pinus nigra ssp. maritima

The climate in Ghent is clearly more mild than in Oregon. Throughout the trip, and also here, I would see happy trees in the USDA zone 8 category. New to me were two Cornus: hongkongensis from SE China and tonkinensis from Vietnam. Actually, most everything was new to me, since my photos are now sorted alphabetically, I can't remember for sure what was taken outside in the small garden, and what was taken inside the fascinating greenhouses. Certainly from outside was Pinus nigra ssp. maritima, the "Corsican Pine," with fantastic bark. So was the ubiquitous Sorbus alnifolia, which we saw in nearly every arboretum, and Sapindus mukorossi with its butter-yellow leaves, native to Asia. Also outside was Celtis laevigata, the "Mississippi Hackberry" in the Ulmaceae family, notable for its gray furrowed bark. First seen in Wespelaar, I encountered again Styphnolobium japonicum 'Pendulum' which graced the walkway. I've never seen this plant in America, and just as well since nobody can pronounce it anyway.

Styphnolobium japonicum 'Pendulum'

Celtis laevigata

Sorbus alnifolia

Sapindus mukorossi

Inside it was warm and muggy with plant smells strong and heady. That putrid odor was coming from…which plant? And keep your hands close, as many trunks were guarded with spines, like Opuntia neoargentina. Encephalartos horridus really was horrible. Flowers were nearly finished on Crinum asiaticum, but I loved the leaf pattern, and also the leaves of Neodypsis decaryi. Ferns and strange things like Salvinia auriculata were in the pool, and I imagined piranhas could be swimming beneath. Podocarpus macrophyllus displayed lush foliage and Philodendron x 'Lynette' was in flower. What an amazing, smelly world this was, about which I know so little.

Opuntia neoargentina

Encephalartos horridus

Crinum asiaticum

Neodypsis decaryi

Salvinia auriculata

Podocarpus macrophyllus

Philodendron x 'Lynette'

Cibotium schiedei

University of Ghent Botanic Garden

Food plants were fun to see. Vanilla, coffee, tea and others make you realize that we take so much for granted with what we eat and drink. Theobroma cacao, the chocolate plant, is thought to have originated in the Amazon region, then transported by humans into Central America and Mexico. Theobroma is from Greek, meaning "Food of the Gods," and was first encountered by Europeans in 1502, by Columbus and his crew. Indeed, before leaving the Bavo Cathedral square, I entered a chocolate shop to purchase a mixed box for my most worthy (and addicted) wife. The sweet proprietress assisted me to choose the proper assortment, then announced that "now you will be safe to return home."

Theobroma cacao

Back outside Aloe speciosa showed off its nice trunk, as did Yucca carnerosana, I was appreciating the Agapanthus and nearly stepped on interesting mushrooms on the lawn. Really, nothing here, including the mushrooms, had any value for Buchholz Nursery. However, my appreciation of Flora's infinite bounty was greatly increased by visiting this special place. I could imagine to live in Ghent, probably alone as an old man with regrets and bittersweet memories, with my ashes finally tossed into a canal, or secretly spread throughout the botanic garden.

Aloe speciosa

Yucca carnerosana

Agapanthus species

Mushrooms

We had a half mile walk back to our car; out of this plant and art world, faced with the reality of a ten hour flight, back to our families and work.

Good bye, so-long, farewell – they'll be saying that about me one day. Here today, gone tomorrow.

I've recounted before that I used to work at a Dutchman's nursery in Oregon, and the old windmill came to America after WWII with some horticultural skills to go along with his heavy accent. You could describe the gruff grahtensheideras “wooden shoes,” “wooden head” and “wouldn't listen,” but he carved out a living in Oregon because he was able to get plant starts, and then to sell trees back to his fellow countrymen who were big nursery players in New Jersey, “the Garden State.”

Abies procera 'Glauca Prostrata'

One day I was raking leaves in his yard – as his three sons were too important to do it – and I noticed a prostrate Abies procera (Noble fir) which was about ten feet wide and only one foot tall. He granted permission to cut scions, but warned me that it had no commercial value because it was too slow growing. I cut a dozen side shoots and all grafts lived. A year or two later I staked them so they could spill out evenly from the pot rather than grow sideways in one direction. I planted one in the original Display Garden, but the staking was a bad idea as it refused to grow horizontally, and the photo above was taken when it was about 35 years of age. The Dutchman said the cultivar was 'Glauca Prostrata' and I thusly identified it with a metal garden label, but every year that it continued to grow upward the label became more and more ridiculous.

Abies procera

I enjoyed looking out my office window at the “Glauca Prostrata” for many years, with huge cones at its top, and it was also a favored perch for our resident dove mates. About three years ago it began to look stressed, which I blamed on a long hot summer. I tried to ignore its problems, but eventually determined that it was an eye-sore and the garden would be better off without it. A sapsucker had wrecked havoc on the trunk at about ten feet up, and below that it appeared rotten. Not wanting it to topple in a wind storm I had a professional tree company come take it down. My foreman was a little miffed that I called in the pros, stating that his crew could handle the job, but at this point in my long career I have had no deaths nor serious injuries, and I want it to finish that way.

Three good-looking, strapping, 30-something guys showed up on time as promised...which usually is not the case. I was expecting a couple of ex-cons with cigarettes dangling from their lips, but these pros inspired confidence with their crisp, clean work suits and intelligent demeanor. I left for the other farm so I wouldn't have to listen to chainsaws and the chipper machine, or if they smashed another tree below I didn't want to see it happen. Three hours later I returned to see how they were coming along, and to my amazement the tree was neatly down and they were long gone. Good bye, so-long, farewell.

Summer Festival by Yusuke Nagamine (Haruko's father)

My wife and I both realize and fundamentally accept the need – or at least the wisdom – to downsize in our lives...to rid ourselves of that which is not necessary. Oh, to be sure, I still retain art on the walls, hundreds of books on the shelves, beloved photos and well-wishes from all of my five children, all the memorabilia that comforts and sustains me as I age, grow ancient and ponder what has passed. I suppose it is a human inclingation to retain the stuff of life, that which defines who we once were, or at least who we had hoped to be.

With my encouragement Haruko gathered numerous bags and boxes of books that we wished to be done with, half of them written in Japanese and the remainder in English. They will ultimately go to the local library, to the Portland-area Japanese school or to Goodwill...but, at least, out of our house. What an epic achievement! – to accumulate, then to relieve ourselves (our shelves) of prior mementos. The term for these relatively brief “memories” originates from the Latin verb meminissewhich means “to remember,” while memento mori suggests “a reminder of mortality,” where we'll perhaps be completely relieved of our possessions.

But wait a minute! One book on the top of the refuse pile had been on Haruko's crowded kitchen shelf for a dozen years or more. It was a plant photo book, an encyclopedia I supposed, but I dismissed it because it was written totally in Japanese which I'll never be able to decipher. It arrived in America by a fresh, enthusiastic intern, but after slogging through long days of tedious manual labor at Buchholz Nursery, I doubt that she ever looked at it either, so she gave it to Haruko rather than lug it home. Haruko never employed it, for her go-to plant manual was the handy pocket book that got her through a Tokyo University degree in landscape architecture, and which she often grabs when trying to answer my tree queries. Haruko's discard, she explained, was too large and unwieldly to be user friendly so she never consulted it. That reminds me of my 1600-page Oxford English Dictionary where one requires a servant to hold and turn pages, while perusing word origins with a magnifying glass...which has all been replaced now by the internet.

Acer macrophyllum

Helianthus annuus

I paged through the old intern's tree book, impressed with the outstanding photographs, some of which presented a full-sized tree from the wild. Many of us can take close-up pictures of leaves, trunks, flowers and fruit, but the array of quality images of the total tree is seldom encountered. I wish I could plagiarize a few for this blog, but alas all of the photographs are from my camera.

Cornus florida in Tokyo

Pinus strobus

All of the trees are listed in Japanese, but fortunately the genus and specific epithet is then rendered in English, as well as an English index, so I could at least know what I was looking at. I turned at random to page 22 where I found Pinus luchuensis, a species I have never grown. My Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2019) describes the “Luchu pine” as “A rare, small to medium-sized tree with smooth, greyish bark. Leaves in pairs...Japan (Ryukyu Islands).” Hmm, probably not hardy for me, as the islands extend for 700 miles southwestward from Japan's southern island of Kyushu to northeastern Taiwan. But what surprised me on the same page 22, was photographs and a description of Pinus strobus, an east-coast American species, and what was that doing in a Japanese tree encyclopedia? The answer, which I had discovered much earlier, is that the Japanese literature often presents species if they are usedin Japan, whether native or not. For example, you will encounter the American native Cornus florida used as a street-tree in Tokyo, rather than the Japanese native Cornus kousa.

Cycas species

Ginkgo biloba 'Nana Horizontalis'

Another matter that concerned me was why the Pinaceae appeared so early in the tome, and clearly nothing was advanced in alphabetical order. Without the index you would page endlessly to find a certain tree, for the book begins with Cycas revoluta, then to Ginkgo biloba, and ends with the Compositae such as Pertya glabrescens and Chrysanthemum nipponicum on page 719. Another non-user-friendly presentation if you ask me! Haruko – honeee– help me here, explain what's up with your damn book. My wife trotted out from the kitchen with serving spoon in hand, to translate and explain. She quickly surmised that this book, as well as many Japanese plant reference books, presents the species in the order of their evolutionary emergence, not in alphabetical order. Ah, so that's why it begins with Cycads, followed by Ginkoaceae, then soon thereafter with the Pinaceae. Wow – this reference book is deeper than I had first imagined.

Platycarya strobilacea

The “walnuts” (Juglandaceae) also make an early appearance, and one of my favorites is Platycarya strobilaceae, and I grow a beautiful specimen in the Flora Wonder Arboretum. I learn from Hillier that it was first described by Siebold and Zuccarini, and is native to Japan, China, Korea and Taiwan. You only encounter it in a few arboreta but I'm fascinated with the “Conspicuous and distinctive cone-like fruits.”Indeed. It was introduced in 1845 by Robert Fortune, the stealthy Scotsman who pilfered tea plants (Camellia sinensis) and tea-making information from China – as his primary purpose for the East India Company – but who also introduced many other ornamental species such as Pseudolarix amabilis, Trachycarpus fortunei and Rhododendron fortunei.

Carl Ludwig Blume

Viburnum furcatum

Beautiful photos of Viburnum furcatum appear near the end of the book, and the large woodland shrub is native to Japan and Taiwan. White flowers emerge in May, according to Hillier, “in flattened, terminal corymbs, surrounded by several sterile ray flowers, resembling a lace cap hydrangea. A beautiful species of elegant charm; an excellent woodland plant.” I first encountered the species at Arboretum Trompenburg in Rotterdam, and it imparted a warm glow in their dark, soggy October landscape. The specific epithet is from Latin furcatusdue to its branching “like a fork,” and was thus named by the German botanist Carl Ludwig Blume in 1858.

Mahonia japonica

Mahonia japonica 'Hivernant'

I suppose Mahonia japonica is my favorite of the many species in the Berberidaceae family; certainly Haruko and the evergreen shrub look good together. Known as the “Japanese Mahonia” due to its cultivation there for centuries, it is actually native to China, another of the many appropriations that the book presents. In flower (light yellow now), it always attracts hummingbirds, those cute little creatures that can turn quite feisty as they vie for territorial rights. After flowering the greenish grape-like berries mature to blue-black and are enjoyed by birds, but my single specimen is sparse on fruiting, and I wish that long ago I would have had the foresight to plant a hedge of it, but I don't have the patience now. Mahonias can look raggedy at times, kind of like they're half dead. That is the draw-back of the genus, but I have learned that you can cut them completely back to the ground and they'll resprout afresh. Some botanists suggest that Mahonia is more properly included in the Berberis genus, especially since some species in both genera can hybridize, but I'll retain Mahoniabecause I dread the project to change all of my labels.

Betula ermanii 'Fincham Cream'

Betula ermanii 'Grayswood Hill'

I have a modest Betula collection at Flora Farm consisting of a dozen or so species. Most are named with the same identification when I acquired them long ago, but I know that the taxonomy has changed in recent times. For example my wonderful tree of B. costata 'Fincham Cream'* is not listed in the Hillier Manualof 2019, although suggestions are made that a number of B. costata cultivars actually belong to the B. ermanii group, though the latter listing does not include 'Fincham Cream'. The RHS Horticultural Database – the same outfit that produces the Hillier Manual– says B.c. 'Fincham Cream' is a synonym of B.e. 'Fincham Cream'. B. ermanii is from China, but can also be found on Mount Hakkoda, N Honshu, Japan, according to Hillier, and Haruko's book has some excellent photos.

Fincham Hall

Leonard Maurice Mason Gravesite

*Named from the late Leonard Maurice Mason's arboretum at Talbot Manor, High Street, Fincham, a village in northwest Norfolk, England. Mason was a wealthy farmer of 6,000 acres but his hobby was tropical plants such as orchids, bromeliads and begonias, and later in life he was awarded the Victoria Medal of Honour. His headstone was adorned with images of foliage and bears the inscription “A Great Plantsman.”

Carl Maximowicz

Betula maximowicziana

Betula maximowicziana, the “Monarch birch,” is a Japanese native that possesses the largest leaves of any birch. How appropriate that the “Monarchbirch” was named by Eduard August von Regel(1815-1892), a German horticulturist and botanist who eventually became Director of the Russian Imperial Botanical Garden, and in Regel's career he described and named over 3,000 plant species. The specific epithet honors Karl Maximowicz (1827-1891), the Russian botanist also honored for the Japanese maple, Acer maximowiczianum, the “Nikko maple,” one not to be confused with Acer maximowicziiwhich was introduced from China by E.H. Wilson in 1910. Hard to keep track of all that! In any case, the “Monarch birch” is a variable species, so one should probably propagate by grafting or by cuttings of an improved form. Most gardeners would prefer a pure white trunk over one that is grayish. I find many birches at their most attractive in winter when the leaves are out of the way, but B. maximowicziana puts on a spectacular show in autumn with brilliant yellow foliage.

Daphniphyllum himalaense ssp. macropodum

Daphniphyllum himalaense ssp. macropodum 'Variegated'

I have grown Daphniphyllum macropodum from seed for a number of years, but there's not much of a market for it however. That's hard to explain for it is an elegant evergreen species with Rhododendron-like leaves. In recent years the cognoscenti dubs it D. himalayense subsp. macropodum, which is a lot to cram on a label, not to mention that we use it as rootstock to graft a variegated form with a dubious cultivar name of 'Yellow/White' or sometimes one sees it as 'Variegata'. I think our variegated cultivar ultimately originated from Akira Shibamichi, the noted Japanese plantsman who I revisited last November. Mr. S. speaks no English and I no Japanese, so my poor wife is stuck in the middle. What is clear is that the old geezer loves Haruko and flirts with quips and jokes, most of which are not translated for me. I would love to spend a day or two with him in the company of a neutral translator, and attempt to document his experience and source information for a large number of interesting plants that only he seems to know about. Perhaps an earnest Japanese horticulturist could accomplish that, and if young and female he would ramble on and on to her. Hillier's 9^thedition (2019) does not mention a variegated form, maybe he is waiting for a 10^thedition to do so. He does say that the species itself is native to China, Japan and Korea, and that it was introduced to cultivation in 1879 by Charles Maries while he toiled for the Veitch Nurseries of England.

Daphniphyllum teijsmannii 'Snow Country'

Daphniphyllum teijsmannii 'Variegated'

Daphniphyllum macropodum is included in Haruko's plant encyclopedia with attractive photos, and so is another species, D. teijsmannii, but the latter is absent from the Hillier manual, perhaps because it is not deemed hardy in Britain. I have never grown the straight species, but I was gifted an attractive variegated cultivar of D. teijsmannii by a former intern; and both plants had been propagated by grafting. I asked Haruko to translate the book's chapter to get a feel for what information was contained. Most of it was dry stuff about plant structure and size as you would expect in a manual, but she did learn that the species is native to warm coastal regions. Furthermore, it is used in floral decorations, as in wreaths, for New Year's Day celebrations, kind of like we use Poinsettia in America. Not having the D. teijsmannii rootstock to propagate with, we tried rooted cutting four or five times in summer under mist, but with absolutely no success. I kept my two large specimens in a warm greenhouse for over a decade, but then I sold one to Sebright Gardens in Oregon, as I reasoned that I didn't need two stock plants of what I can't propagate. Sebright owner, Thomas Johnson put his outside in his arboretum where it has survived for the past two years. He is a more cavalier gardener than I, and I admire that he takes chances where I am hesitant. I intend to visit his collection every spring, and I hope to find the variegated Daphniphyllum still thriving.

Euscaphis japonica

Euscaphis japonica is included in the Japanese encyclopedia, but once again it is absent in the Hillier Manual, and the omission is odd since it is listed as hardy to USDA zone 6 (-10F). I keep one in an unheated greenhouse where it takes up way too much room. Haruko's book contains another boring description, and overall I would say that the Hillier Manual is the far more interesting of the two reference books, though it lacks any photographs. Haruko's book does notmention that Euscaphis japonica is known as the “Korean Sweetheart tree” and that it is also native to China. The North Carolina State University's website says,“This is a J.C. Raulston [the late] Arboretum introduction and it is rare to find one in cultivation. J.C. Raulston discovered the Korean Sweetheart tree in 1985 on the Korean Peninsula while participating in a U.S. National Arboretum collection expedition.”What is not clear is whether it was new to science, or merely new to the United States. The generic name is from Greek Eumeaning “good” – as in Euonymus – and scaphismeaning “a vessel” on account of the seed pod. Indeed the fruit pod resembles the Euonymus genus, and though a brilliant red in autumn with a solitary, shiny black berry, it is a tree that I doubt that I could sell. Too bad – I like it – and it has been suggested as a good addition to a winter garden because of the attractive purple-brown bark with white striations.

Well, enough; maybe some day I'll do a Part II about Haruko's Japanese manual, or maybe not. What I do know is that it went from Haruko's shelf to the recycling box...then onto my self where I intend to keep it.

For the most part 2020 was a cheerless year where we all found new ways to be troubled. Nevertheless my trees continued their march through life...with only a few casualties along the way. The photos that follow prove that I made some happy connections, and indeed made a few new friends with the plants I encountered. For me, the Flora Wonder was as intense as ever, but at the same time always delightful.

Rhododendron 'Ever Red'

Acer palmatum 'Phantom Flame'

Cornus florida 'Ragin' Red'

Sequoiadendron giganteum 'John Muir'

Acer palmatum 'Tsuma gaki'

Abies veitchii 'Glauca'

Acer palmatum 'Geisha'

Acer palmatum 'Fred's Wild Dream'

Acer palmatum 'Japanese Princess'

Acer palmatum 'Mikazuki'

Acer palmatum 'Lemon Chiffon'

Abies koreana EX 'Silberlocke'

Acer 'Cinnamon Flake'

Sequoiadendron giganteum (left) and 'Glaucum' (right)

Pinus parviflora 'Goldilocks'

Acer palmatum 'Jubilee'

Cercis canadensis 'Merlot'

Cornus kousa 'Beni fuji'

Acer oliverianum 'Hot Blonde'

Acer palmatum 'Ryu sei'

Fagus sylvatica 'Aurea Pendula'

Acer palmatum 'Olsen's Frosted Strawberry'

Acer palmatum 'Lileeanne's Jewel'

Cornus kousa 'Akatsuki'

Picea engelmannii

Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Van den Akker'

Acer crataegifolium 'Meuri ofu'

Acer palmatum EX 'Alpenweiss'

Cornus florida

Fragaria chiloensis 'Green Pastures'

Acer palmatum 'Amber Ghost'

Acer palmatum EX 'Amber Ghost'

Acer palmatum 'Ilarian'

Hamamelis intermedia 'Sunburst'

Magnolia laevifolia 'Free Spirit'

Tsuga heterophylla 'Thorsen'

Ginkgo biloba 'Troll'

Woodwardia unigemmata

Camellia japonica 'Sake Cup'

Camellia 'Sweet Jane'

Zelkova serrata 'Green Mansions'

Lilium hansonii

Acer platanoides 'Princeton Gold'

Acer palmatum 'Pastel'

Stewartia malacodendron

Sorbus 'Eastern Promise'

Acer palmatum EX 'Amber Ghost'

Acer palmatum 'Ukigumo'

Pseudotsuga menziesii

Acer 'Gossamer'

Acer palmatum 'Sango kaku'

Helwingia chinensis 'BLF (male)'

Abies koreana 'Gait'

Abies koreana 'Vengels'

Aesculus hippocastanum

Leucanthemum 'Real Glow'

Cercis canadensis 'Alley Cat'

Liquidambar acalycina

Magnolia wilsonii

Castanea sativa 'Albomarginata'

Nerine bowdenii

Magnolia wilsonii

Acer shirasawanum 'Kawaii'

Acer buergerianum 'Wako nishiki'

Betula nigra 'Fox Valley'

Pterostyrax psilophyllus

Stewartia pseudocamellia

Acer palmatum 'Usu midori'

Leucothoe grayana

Acer circinatum 'Ruby Red'

Parthenocissus tricuspidata 'Fenway Park'

Acer palmatum 'Lileeanne's Jewel'

Acer japonicum 'Giant Moon'

Acer longipes 'Gold Coin'

Cornus kousa 'Summer Fun'

Acer tegmentosum 'Joe Witt'

Pseudotsuga menziesii

Picea omorika 'Pendula Bruns'

I looked up how to say "Happy New Year" in various languages. For example in Vietnamese it's Chuc mung nam moi, in Japanese Akemashite omedetou gozaimasu, in Italian Felice anno nuova, in Canadian Happy new year eh?

I have forgotten most of the events that transpired in, say, 1979, 1988, 2003 etc., but I'll always remember the year of 2020. Let's hope that 2021 brings us more peace and happiness, and that we have learned to appreciate our blessings.

Take care,

Talon Buchholz

Today's blog is a rerun from about 4 years ago. My mental energy was compromised this past week with covid worries, political events, dark rainy days and fatigue in the evening from bending and stretching to cut scions for the grafters.

I'll post the old blog as I wrote it then, but I have since come to learn that Betula costata 'Fincham Cream' is more likely of the ermanii species. The "star" of the blog is noted English plantsman, Brian Humphrey, and he alerted me to the nomenclatural change. Mr. H. has since published The Bench Grafter's Handbook, an absolute must for any serious plant propagator.

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I was looking on the nursery book shelves for an inventory of notable trees from my hometown of Forest Grove, Oregon – but I never did find it. However I did discover A Descriptive List of Woody Plants by Brian and Julie Humphrey, two English plant experts with whom I keep in touch. They visited me twenty-some years ago at the nursery and I visited them about fourteen years ago at their nursery in Suffolk. We used to trade scions and cuttings back when the consequences of getting caught were minimal, and though Brian still offers to send me whatever I want, I have to decline these days.

Viburnum plicatum 'Summer Snowflake'

What I find unusual about the Humphrey couple is that they actually do read the Flora Wonder Blog – every word of it – and I know because they are not shy to point out my errors. Recently I ventured into a blog about Viburnums, a plant genus I don't really know that well, and my photo and B.S. about V. x bodnantense 'Dawn' was clearly not, and instead I was depicting V. plicatum, probably 'Summer Snowflake'. I bought it retail I think as 'Dawn' but I don't remember where as it was twenty years ago. I don't mind taking chances in the blog, even if I am sometimes rong, and I appreciate to be told so. Not to sound arrogant but I don't produce the blog for you, or at least not primarily. I like to keep my brain active and I have learned a lot in the research for the stories.

Abeliophyllum distichum 'Pink Star'	Juniperus squamata 'Chinese Silver'
Acer davidii 'Serpentine'	Liquidambar styraciflua 'Moonbeam'
Acer rufinerve 'Albolimbatum'	Liquidambar styraciflua 'Silver King'
Betula costata 'Fincham Cream'	Magnolia 'Atlas'
Betula 'Edinburgh'	Magnolia 'Joe McDaniel'
Betula ermanii 'Mt. Apoi'	Magnolia kobus var. stellata 'Chrysanthemumiflora'
Betula jacquemontii 'Inverleith'	Nyssa sinensis 'Autumn Blaze'
Betula luminifera	Picea breweriana 'Fruhlingsgold'
Betula utilis 'Forest Blush'	Pieris 'Firecrest'
Betula utilis 'Jermyns'	Pieris 'Havila'
Betula utilis var. jacquemontii 'Doorenbos'	Pieris japonica 'Compact Red'
Betula utilis var. jacquemontii 'Grayswood Ghost'	Pieris japonica 'Humphrey'
Calocedrus decurrens 'Berrima Gold'	Pieris japonica 'Little England'
Cornus alternifolia 'Argentea'	Pinus cembra 'Aureovariegata'
Cornus 'Porlock'	Pinus mugo 'Ophir'
Cotinus 'Grace'	Pinus strobiformis 'Foxtail'
Cupressus lusitanica 'Glauca Pendula'	Pinus sylvestris 'Corley's Dwarf'
Cupressus macrocarpa 'Wilma'	Pinus sylvestris 'Edwin Hillier'
Cupressus sempervirens 'Green Pencil'	Pinus sylvestris 'Inverleith'
Daphne acutiloba	Pinus sylvestris 'Nisbet's Gem'
Embothrium lanceolatum 'Norquinco Valley'	Pinus wallichiana 'Densa Hillii'
Halesia monticola 'Vestita'	Prunus cyclamina
Hamamelis intermedia 'Barmstedt Gold'	Sinojackia rehderana
Juniperus communis 'Oblonga Pendula'

Seth is able to sort the Master Plant List by source, so 47 times we came up with the name Humphrey. Two names are fictitious – Pieris japonica 'Humphrey' and 'Little England'– because I had to call them something after a careless employee lost the labels, and they are both still in the garden.

Magnolia kobus var. stellata 'Jane Platt'

I don't remember what I sent to England, with the exception of Magnolia kobus var. stellata 'Jane Platt'. In the Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2014 edition) the authors give specific rank to both kobus and stellata, a practice I should probably adopt if for no other reason than to make garden labels more simple. Of 'Jane Platt' Hillier says “Named from a plant grown as M. stellata 'Rosea' in the garden of Jane Platt in Portland, Oregon, USA, this form has very profuse deep pink flowers with up to 30 tepals.” Jane Platt and her husband are no longer alive, but they really kept an excellent landscape that plant snobs still love to visit. Unlike my busy gardens, Jane designed with class and elegance, and she truly was an artist with her grounds. M. 'Jane Platt' was actually named by Magnolia expert Roger Gossler, for he was convinced that the pink blossoms were much deeper in color than any 'Rosea' he had ever seen.

Davidia in the Platt garden

Davidia involucrata 'Platt's Variegated'

I also named and introduced a tree from the Platt garden – Davidia involucrata 'Platt's Variegated', for my start came from a tree in the bottom portion of their garden. I don't produce it anymore because it needs some age before the cream-white appears, and in fact the “variegation” is nothing more than an abundance of half-half bract/leaves.

Acer rufinerve 'Hatsu yuki'/'Albolimbatum'

Back to the Humphrey list, I received a start of Acer rufinerve 'Albolimbatum', and later from an American grower A. r. 'Hatsu yuki', only to find out years later by maple author Peter Gregory that they are one and the same. I don't produce it under either name anymore because sales were weak, and furthermore a significant portion of my original start has reverted back to total green. Still I like it and it has plenty of room to grow, and the fall color is usually outstanding. Acer rufinerve was first described by Philip von Siebold in 1845, and the specific name is derived from rufus for “russet red,” referring to the color of the hairs on the leaves, flowers and seeds. Hatsu means “first” in Japanese and yuki is “snow.” We had a young male intern from Japan named “Yuki,” but his characters did not translate as “snow;” nevertheless we called him “Snowboy.”

Acer davidii 'Serpentine'

Acer rufinerve and Acer davidii are both in the section Macrantha. The latter was named after Armand David (1826-1900), the French missionary and botanist. The davidii species was first introduced into England in 1879 by Charles Maries while he collected for the Veitch Nursery. Since it occurs over a large area in central and western China it can vary in appearance, and three great plant hunters – George Forrest, Frank Kingdon-Ward and E.H. Wilson – also sent versions of the species back to Europe. Mr. Humphrey provided my start of the cultivar 'Serpentine' and he describes it: “A small growing form...with half size rich green leaves which produce excellent yellow/orange autumn colour and light elegant 'snake bark' branches.” We propagate it by grafting onto Acer davidii or Acer tegmentosum, the latter being the more winter hardy of the two. It will also root by soft wood cuttings under mist in July. For me 'Serpentine' can get off to a crooked start with either method of propagation, and one learns that you can't stake away a “dog-leg” trunk, so you prune, prune, prune, and you'll eventually end up with a dense attractive tree.

Betula costata 'Fincham Cream'

I've never been a “swinger of birches” like Robert Frost, but I have been a seller of them in the past. Today a few of the birch cultivars from Humphrey are growing nicely at Flora Farm in the Betula section, in an area of about an acre so they have plenty of room. B. costata 'Fincham Cream' is a favorite and my specimen has an impressive trunk. Seth groans because he has to store the many photographs of it that I seem to take every winter. The costata species is native to northeast Asia and Humphrey describes it as a “smaller growing species than many and therefore is suitable for the smaller garden.” I agree that 'Fincham Cream'“has white bark with a hint of cream, excellent golden yellow autumn color,” but my specimen is already huge – grafted onto B. pendula – so I don't know about the “smaller garden” promise.

Betula apoiensis 'Mount Apoi'

Is it Betula apoiensis 'Mount Apoi' or B. ermanii 'Mount Apoi'? Hillier describes apoiensis as “a variable shrub, closely related to B. ermanii...and that it is found on Mount Apoi, Hokkaido Japan growing with Pinus pumila.” It is a stretch to assign cultivar status to 'Mount Apoi' as it was raised from seed collected on said mountain, and I wonder how it differs from the type when the species is described as “variable.” My specimen from Humphrey – also grafted onto B. pendula – is quite attractive but it is planted way too close to the aforementioned Davidia involucrata 'Platt's Variegated'. Do I let them grow into each other or intervene and remove one? Ah, the gardener's dilemma; so this winter we will propagate both so progeny of each can stay on Noah's Ark. I suspect the birch will remain because a few years ago an attractive Chinese female botanist was touring the nursery – and seldom do the intellectuals know much – but from a distance she asked “Is that Betula apoiensis?” I was shocked, and asked “hhhow did you know?” She replied that she did a dissertation on the genus. I had fantasies that we should marry and procreate biological geniuses, one of whom would take over the nursery and provide me with an exit plan.

Another birch from Humphrey was B. luminifera, and I write was because I have it no more, and I can't remember if the scions ever did grow for me. What a fantastic specific name though, and Hillier refers to its “lustrous” leaves and the “shining reddish brown bark.” Humphrey accounts that “This comparatively rare species was collected in the wild by Roy Lancaster on his expedition to Mt. Omei [China] 1980.” As with girlfriends for a playboy, when the years pass you just can't remember who or what came, then went. My Master Plant List – over the years – contains more no mas than what is here today. I have no regrets, though, for that is the way of this world: far more species have arrived – then disappeared – from this Earth than what exist today. Office manager, Eric Lucas, told his 27-year-old son that he was “lucky to be alive.” The dubious youth, who is happy, still wondered what was his father's rationale. The answer is that something could have gone wrong along the way – along the so many ways – such as an ancestor dying from a lion attack, or from disease during the Great Plague or from being shot as a horse thief. Any little thing could have screwed up the lineage and so...no you. Anyway, no luminifera either.

Calocedrus decurrens 'Berrima Gold' in Arboretum Trompenburg

Calocedrus decurrens 'Berrima Gold'

Speaking of luminescent, Calocedrus decurrens 'Berrima Gold' came to me first from Mr. Humphrey, but of course I would have eventually acquired it anyway. It was selected at the Berrima Bridge Nurseries in Australia and Hillier adequately describes it as “A slow-growing form with orange bark and pale yellow-green foliage, tipped with orange in winter. Ultimate height uncertain.” It is incredible when seen combined with the scarlet red of a ladybug. As far as its height, I have never seen one taller than the wonderful specimen at Arboretum Trompenburg in Rotterdam and their specimen – perhaps because it is growing in some shade – is far more tall and narrow than the chubby squatters I grow in Oregon. Understand, however, that not everything is so glorious about 'B' Gold', for it is a notoriously untransplantable tree in my experience, so we keep them in containers from day one.

Cornus x 'Porlock'

Cornus x 'Porlock' forms an attractive little tree, however I have no market for the hybrid (C. capitata x C. kousa) because my customers either 1) don't know it or 2) assume that it is not winter hardy. Of the two species in the cross capitata is the wimp as it is native to lower elevations in the Himalaya and China. 'Porlock' is semi evergreen in Oregon, but I would prefer that it would just go ahead and lose all leaves because as winter advances they become more unsightly. The creamy white flowers are nice but I wouldn't call them wonderful, however the strawberry-like fruits last for a couple of months in fall and they are most ornamental. An ex-employee who was afflicted with ADHD thought he should cut down my specimen at Flora Farm because something was causing the trunk to crack and peel. I responded “No way!” and asked him if he wanted to cut down all of our Acer griseums too? 'Porlock' was a natural hybrid occurring in the garden of Norman Hadden in West Porlock, Somerset in the 1950's, along with another hybrid seedling named 'Norman Hadden'.

Cornus alternifolia 'Argentea'

Cornus controversa 'Variegata'

Cornus controversa 'Variegata' at Arboretum Trompenburg

Humphrey also provided my start of Cornus alternifolia 'Argentea' which was rarely seen in the trade at the time. The species is from eastern North America but I don't think it is much used in landscapes. The small-growing silver-variegated 'Argentea' is in much demand however, although when young they can have awkward branching. Again: prune, prune, prune. There is the inevitable comparison between 'Argentea' and the similar Cornus controversa 'Variegata', with the latter being more vigorous and larger growing. Since I am a nurseryman trying to make a living I prefer crops of the variegated controversa, but easily sell out of both species anyway.

Cupressus macrocarpa 'Wilma'

Cupressus macrocarpa at the Strybing Arboretum

Humphrey describes Cupressus macrocarpa 'Wilma' as one of the best of the yellow-foliage forms with a “compact upright habit.” One sees tons of 'Wilma'– or a similar cultivar – in festive wrapped-up pots at Christmas time, and I suppose they are produced by the millions somewhere. I even saw them for sale in a tiny flower kiosk in Tokyo. I always keep a few plants around and they're easy to sell – though hardy to only about 10 degrees F – but the problem is that 'Wilma' originated as a sport on 'Goldcrest' and it can revert back to mother's less fluffy appearance. Cupressus macrocarpa is the “Monterey cypress” native to a small coastal area in mid California. In the wild they are windswept and picturesque, but in cultivation – like in San Francisco's Strybing Arboretum – they can grow to an enormous size. Perhaps the most despised of any conifer is the hybrid x Cupressocyparis leylandii which has C. macrocarpa and Xanthocyparis nootkatensis as parents, an example where the offspring is less attractive than the two pure species.

Liquidambar styraciflua 'Silver King'

Liquidambar styraciflua 'Silver King' was new and exciting earlier in my career, but now it is firmly established in the trade so we don't propagate it anymore. Humphrey writes, “Edges of the leaves are distinctly margined creamy white. Grows well and quickly forms a very attractive variegated tree. Autumn colour causes the leaves to flush pink and purple.” What is remarkable is that 'Silver King' can withstand full sun in Oregon's hot dry summers, including the 108 degree F (42 C) scorcher we experienced a few years ago.

Liquidambar styraciflua seed

It would seem appropriate to group Liquidambar in the maple family (Sapindaceae) due to its maple-like leaves. Hillier puts the genus in the Hamamelidaceae family in his 2014 Manual, while other know-it-alls put it in the Altingiaceae family. The latter is a lonely family for it consists of a single genus Liquidambar with about 15 recognized species. The word Liquidambar refers to its sap, and comes from Latin liquidus and Medieval Latin ambra or ambar. The specific name styraciflua also refers to its sap, and it is commonly called the “American sweetgum.” The fruits are fascinating to me – and I also sold them to area florists as a youth. They contain small seeds within their terminal spikes and they remind me of a miniature version of a medieval weapon. Commonly these are known as “burr balls,” “gum balls,” “space bugs,” “monkey balls,” “bommyknockers,” “sticker balls” or “goblin balls.” The “monkey ball” wouldn't hurt if I threw one at you – they are fairly airy.

Pinus sylvestris 'Edwin Hillier'

Pinus strobiformis 'Foxtail'

I didn't do so well with Humphrey's conifer scions. If Pinus cembra 'Aureovariegata' and Pinus sylvestris 'Corley's Dwarf' ever lived I have no memory of them. Perhaps there's a section of the nursery where I have never been. I did like Pinus sylvestris 'Edwin Hillier' but nobody would buy the blue Scot's pine and I don't even have one in the garden. I did see it at the Hillier Arboretum and I recognized it from far away. I thought that Pinus strobiformis 'Foxtail' was nice – and what a good cultivar name – but again, nobody will buy them.

Pinus mugo 'Ophir'

My favorite of the conifer starts is Pinus mugo 'Ophir' and it is still in production. It is a golden dwarf that emits a beautiful glow, especially in winter. There are other golden mugos that are perhaps more intensely yellow, but 'Ophir'* looks best, at least in my garden.

*Ophir is a biblical land of uncertain origin, possibly southern Arabia or eastern Africa, from which gold was brought for Solomon. 1 Kings 10:11.

If you have actually read this far, you noticed that I jumped back and forth with quotes from Hillier and Humphrey, which is not surprising since Brian Humphrey used to work for Hillier. He is retired from his own nursery now, but still enjoys his garden, and he is writing a book on propagation. Lucky him – he's retired, but I am just tired.

Lilium columbianum

The photo above is one of my favorites, an impressionistic portrait of Lilium columbianum, but it was created quite by accident. It was taken back in the day when I used Fuji slide film, and I really don't know how I “screwed” it up. Normally I would have thrown out such a blurry photo in favor of one more sharp (as below), but I kept it out of curious fascination, wondering if I could duplicate the process. I swear that I wasn't drinking at the time.

Lilium columbianum

Lilium columbianum, our “Tiger Lily,”is native to western North America and specifically honors our great Columbia River. I even have it in my woods, along the little stream at the south end of the nursery property. My rivulet flows into the Tualatin River, and that into the grand Willamette which merges north of Portland into the Columbia.

The species was scientifically described by botanist Baker in 1874, and the beauty is pollinated by rufous hummingbirds (Selasphorus rufus), a wonderful combination of flora and fauna. Native Americans used the bulbs as food, and though the taste is somewhat bitter, it provided a peppery condiment to mix with meat or salmon roe. I have never tried it as it would seem criminal to harvest even one bulb. Horticulture is dominated by gaudy Lilium hybrids, but the pretty Tiger Lilyis my kind of girl.

One of the largest oaks in the world grew in Bidwell Park in Chico, California. This “Valley oak,” Quercus lobata, was thought to be 1,000 years old, and it rose to 110 feet tall (34m) and was 29 feet in circumference (8.8m) at eight feet above ground. It was estimated that 7,885 people could stand under its canopy, assuming 2' sq. ft. (0.2 m^2) per person and with no social distancing mandated. Old Valley oaks tend to have a broad, somewhat arching canopy, and the Chico giant's largest branch spread from the trunk to its tip at 111 feet long. Sadly the tree fell on May 1, 1977, and it was discovered to actually be two trees of 325 years each which had long ago grown into one.

Joseph D Hooker

Betula ermanii 'Hooker'

...But before, the Chico tree was known as the “Hooker oak” and it was so-named by Annie Bidwell, a socialite and amateur botanist whose husband founded Chico. Ms. Bidwell named the tree in 1887 in honor of Sir Joseph Dalton Hooker, the Director of the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew. J.D. Hooker succeeded his father, William Jackson Hooker at Kew, and prior to that the son had traveled to Antarctica and had botanized in New Zealand, Tasmania, Morocco, India and some then unnamed countries in the Himalaya. The late Peter Gregory led me through Westonbirt Arboretum where he was once director, and he pointed out a venerable Betula ermanii that was supposedly collected by Hooker.

Asa Gray

In June, 1887, at age 60 Hooker accepted an invitation from his friend Asa Gray (1810-1888) to visit the United States. 67-year-old Gray was professor of botany at Harvard University and was considered America's preeminent botanist. They covered many western states on a ten-week, 8,000 mile expedition, and collected about 1,000 plant specimens for Kew. Hooker and Gray then collaborated on a publication on the geographical distribution of plants of the Rocky Mountain region for the US Geological and Geographical Survey in 1881.

John Muir

Hooker and Gray ended up in California where they were joined by John Muir (1838-1914), the wiry little Scotsman who went on to found the Sierra Club. I wish I could have been privy to their evening discussions – how much I might have learned about trees! Muir recalled their trip:

“After supper I build a big fire, and the flowers and the trees, wondrously illumined, seemed to come forward and look on and listen as we talked...of course we talked of trees, argued the various relationship of varying species, etc.; and I remarked that Sir Joseph, who in his long active life had traveled through all the great forests of the world, admitted, in reply to a question of mine, that in grandeur, variety and beauty, no forest on the globe rivaled the great coniferous forests of my much-loved Sierra.”

Annie & John Bidwell

When Hooker eventually encountered the tree that would bear his name, he proclaimed it to be the largest oak in existence...except that other humongous specimens have been located since, especially a 140 foot tree just south of nearby Covelo, California. To preserve the Hooker oak Annie Bidwell*, who had survived her husband John by 18 years, donated over 2000 acres of their oakful domain to the city of Chico, but insisted that the land remain a municipal park forever. The original endowment, and along with more recent acquisitions, makes Bidwell Park one of the 10 largest in America. After the Hooker oak fell in 1977, 36 years later a group of knuckle-head vandals – probably a gathering of drunken Chico State University students – burned the memorial remains of the enshrined stump.

*John Bidwell (1821-1900) was a rancher and politician, a pioneer settler who led the first Wagon train to California in 1841. He was a United States representative, and the 1892 Presidential candidate on the Prohibition Party ticket. Annie Bidwell was his equal, a philanthropist, suffragist and temperance reformer. When husband and wife met John Muir on an 1877 botanical expedition – with Hooker and Gray – to Mt. Shasta and the headwaters of the Sacramento River, Annie continued with a 37-year-long correspondence with Muir.

Before its demise and later defilement, the Hooker oak gained notoriety as a “prop” in a movie classic, the 1938 Adventures of Robin Hood, where Hood's Merry Men traveled from Hollywood to Chico to film the Norman-Saxon historical drama under the oak's arching branches. I don't know how much of the film is true to English history – a historynoddingly boring to Americans such as myself – but I watched it twice last week, much to the amusement of my teenage daughters. The oak tree was the real (reel) star, even though a lot of sword clashing and arrow shooting went on beneath it. I thought that Errol Flynn was foppishly portrayed, and in his green tights and gay cap he looked like a frog, and I wasn't at all convinced of his prowess. My wife, Haruko, watched the second viewing, and she found Flynn/Hood to be wondrously dashing. All right – I'll admit: I could nothave watched the Adventurestwice without the delicious presence of actress Olivia de Havilland as Maid Marion, and I found her to grow more and more beautiful as the film progressed.

Quercus lobata

California's Central Valley (in green)

The Valley oak is also known as “roble” due to its resemblance to the Spanish settler's native European white oaks. Q. lobata's native range is in California's “Central Valley,” a long, broad expanse of land that vertically parallels the state itself, from nearly top to bottom. The climate is hellaciously hot in summer but relatively cool in winter, and the oaks will thrive as long as they receive adequate ground water. I have visited this unique area a few times, usually in early spring where my botanical friends and I sought respite from Oregon's lingering winter. Dr. Hale, Reuben Hatch and I once drove to a military base to witness their huge oaks, and at the guard station one had only to declare, “We're here to see the oaks,” and then the soldier quickly allowed us to enter.

Eric Lucas

Buchholz Nursery's office manager, Eric Lucas, showed me a photo of an oak tree from his late Mother's property, and Eric referred to it as a seedling from the “Hooker oak.” Eric lives in what I call the “North Plains, Oregon compound,” located in an area that has housed six generations of this Scottish-American tribe. For these settlers nothing was given free, and to this day they continue to work on, and to improve their homestead.

Grandpa Ira Wilburn Lucas

Vivian and Wilburn Lucas, 1941

Hooker Oak Seedling

The Lucas seedling is now 57 years old, and it originated from acorns gathered by Eric's grandfather who was visiting relatives in Chico in the 1960s. Grandpa Lucas (then about 80 years old) was impressed with the huge Hooker oak and fascinated with its long, narrow 'corns. Eric's mother, Vivian, germinated the seedlings and two were planted near her home. Her husband cut one down for it was planted dangerously close to the house, but the remaining tree was allowed to prosper, and now it is about 40' tall. I love Eric's haunting photo which renders it in its deciduous disposition, taken in the chill of a hoarfrost morning.

Well, I am an old man now, but I feel an urge to return to California at least once again in my life, to stand under the Valley oaks, to pass the wildflowers en route, and to pay my respects to the Bidwell estate and park, and to the charred remains of the Hooker oak.

P.S. Many thanks to Eric Lucas who shared stories of his heritage along with family photos which made this blog possible.

Sequoiadendron giganteum 'John Muir' in Boise, Idaho

Sequoiadendron giganteum 'John Muir'

Sonya Buchholz

Regular Flora Wonder Blog readers might remember that I posted a blog a few years ago about a “Giant Redwood,” a Sequoiadendron giganteum seedling that was gifted to the city forester of Boise, Idaho, over 100 years ago by the remarkable John Muir. The historic tree was to undergo a transplant to a different city property to make way for a hospital expansion. I was 100% opposed to the project, concluding that the hospital could certainly expand elsewhere; and above all: save, protect and cherish the historic tree. Of course no one listened to me and the tree was moved...and thank God it survived the ordeal. My eldest daughter works for the city of Boise in their parks and recreation department. Sonya led me to the giant redwood and when nobody was looking I gathered a few cones and we germinated a number of seedlings...which I have named Sequoiadendron giganteum 'John Muir'. These saplings I will donate to anyone who cares, and I hope that the City of Boise would want to be one recipient. Plant it next to the mother tree with a plaque that tells its story; wouldn't that be wonderful?!

Quercus alba

Quercus garryana

Likewise, I feel a calling, an obligation to propagate from the Lucas's progeny of the “Hooker oak.” What have I ever accomplished that could be considered more important? Since Mother Vivian's seedling has never produced acorns, I will attempt to graft scions onto our “Oregon White oak,” Quercus garryana, and also onto seedlings of Quercus alba, America's “Eastern White oak.” These two understocks were recommended by the noted plant propagator, Brian Humphrey of England. If successful I will name the propagules Quercus lobata 'Hooker's Legacy'.

I wonder if any seedlings from the Hooker oak were planted in the Bidwell Park; if not I will bring them two trees... to plant close together as one. A future Robin Hood can dashanew.

As any regular reader of this blog knows, I have a "thing" about plant names. The "thing" that I want to know is why a certain name was selected for a certain plant. I always wonder: what is the source, the origin, the whence of everything. Nothing annoys me more than to encounter an interesting plant, and then be unable to identify it.

What is it, or rather, who is it? Who's its name? If I can't find out, I feel left out. But Haruko, my wife, couldn't care less. She cares more about the shadow that a tree casts, than about the tree's name; more about the sound of a tree's leaves in the wind; more about a tree's shakkei (Japanese, for its relationship to its further landscape), than the tree's name. I can allow for all of that. But still, I want to know: how did it get its name? Why? What's the history? What is his story?

We must acknowledge Carl Linne (who loved Latin so much that he changed his name to Carolus Linnaeus) for creating the binomial system for plants, where every genus is comprised of species, all based upon the perception of a relationship of similarities. For example, a plum is similar to a cherry, therefore both belong to the genus Prunus. Cultivar names (cultivated variants) used to be given in Latin, but now it's more often a name used as a marketing ploy, to provide something catchy and memorable. So we have genera, like Hosta, with the most goofy of names, like 'X-rated', 'Teeny-weeny Bikini', 'Pandora's Box' and 'Blue Mouse Ears'.

Cornus x 'Dorothy'

I'm on record as disapproving of the use of people's names for cultivars, and yet I have done so myself. Dorothy, a wonderful ninety-year-old gardening woman from Vancouver, Washington had a spontaneous dogwood hybrid (between Cornus florida and Cornus nuttallii) in her yard. The tree was lovely in flower, and so was Dorothy, so I propagated it – to her delight – and named it for her. I even thought about dating her, in spite of our age difference, but then I had just met my current wife, and Haruko's flesh and smile proved the stronger attraction. Dorothy has passed away now, but her dogwood remains, and therefore so does she.

Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Laura Aurora'

I have a sketchy record about naming cultivars, as I have used English names, Japanese names, and sometimes multi-language names, which is nomenclaturally illegal. I was taken to task by a European dendrological expert for naming a dwarf, variegated "Weeping Alaskan Cedar," Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Laura Aurora', that I shouldn't use "Laura," an English name, he supposed, and combine it with the Latin "Aurora." I thought the criticism was entirely unfounded. The name Laura originated in Latin Europe, and was derived from the "Bay Laurel" plant, or Laurus nobilis, which in Greco-Roman times was used as a symbol of victory, honor or fame. The name Aurora originates from the Latin word for "dawn." So "Laura Aurora" is hoyle, dammit, with a nice ring to it besides. With its yellow variegated foliage, the cultivar is bright and cheerful, the same as my daughter Laura.

Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Sparkling Arrow'

Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Green Arrow'

I named another cultivar of "Weeping Alaskan Cedar," Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Sparkling Arrow'. Good, two English words. Its origin was a variegated shoot on a 'Green Arrow', and fortunately it makes a wonderful, narrow weeping tree as well, only with some extra color. 'Green Arrow' was discovered and named (brilliantly, I think) by the late Gordon Bentham, and the original tree was on Canadian federal forestry land. Bentham asked the Feds for permission to harvest a few scions, but was denied. He had paid a lifetime of Canadian taxes, was a life-long citizen, and harbored the notion that the tree was his anyway, and no stinking smug government employee should interfere with him. Bentham obviously harvested the scionwood, and he told me about it shortly before his death in the early 1980's. I visited the old bankrupt Canadian nursery (Den Allen) and discovered the trees in one-gallon pots. A Danish intern was the only employee in the weed patch, and I asked if I could buy the trees. I think because of his nervousness about his next paycheck, he agreed, and I returned to the States with a dozen three-year-old starts, one of which is in the photo above, and which could be the largest 'Green Arrow' in the world, outside of the original. If the intern had not sold me the plants, maybe the original grafts would have been tossed, for the expired nursery, on prime real estate, is perhaps a shopping mall now.

Acer palmatum 'Geisha Gone Wild'

I named an excellent new maple, Acer palmatum 'Geisha Gone Wild', because the original mutation on an Acer palmatum 'Geisha' had indeed "gone wild." I suppose the crabby European dendrologist would have a problem with that name too: with "Geisha," a Japanese word, followed by two English words.

Acer palmatum 'Midori no teiboku'

The late Dr. Corbin of Portland, Oregon was a dear friend and an avid maple collector. He grew a laceleaf with green foliage and a low, dense habit; the mother tree was Acer palmatum 'Viridis'. I thought the seedling had ornamental merit, so I propagated it and temporarily named it 'V. Corbin'. A number of customers liked the plant also, and many left my nursery with that code-name. It even made it into the Vertrees-Gregory book, Japanese Maples, third edition. That was too bad, for earlier I gave it an "official" name, 'Midori no teiboku'. In the fourth edition Gregory made the correct update, but it helped me to realize that I should never sell or give away any plant without a final, lasting name. Also, it is ok – and often beneficial – to name a plant early, even if it is largely untried and unproven, without a decade or more of in-house observation. The marketplace will then determine the worthiness of your named plant. By the way 'Midori no teiboku' is a lousy name too. I had a couple of Japanese interns at the time, and I asked them how would you say "green, and low and spreading" in Japanese. "Ooo, ahh," they conferred for fifteen minutes, and just as I was about to tell them to forget it, by consensus they came up with 'Midori no teiboku'. A few years later, my Japanese wife said that technically the name was sound, but that nobody would say it that way. But, too late.

Sequoia sempervirens

Sequoiadendron giganteum

Enough about cultivar names, let's discuss the given names of genera and species. The first person to successfully argue that a certain plant is unlike anything else, gets to choose both the genus and the species name. Or, if one (Buchholz) argues that two species should not be in the same genus, such as Sequoia sempervirens and Sequoiadendron giganteum, his name will follow the new botanic name in reference books.

Toxicodendron diversilobum

I'll begin with our native, "Pacific Poison Oak," Toxicodendron diversilobum, since it grows on my property, down next to the Tualatin River. The genus refers to a "toxic tree," and certainly it is. One should identify and respect it early on in life, or else you'll pay, as I did twice in my youth. Diversilobum refers to the three leaves which point in different directions. The plant itself is somewhat attractive with its glossy foliage, and it's the first deciduous plant to turn dark red, long before everything else does, often the end of August.

Acer palmatum

Cercis canadensis 'Appalachia'

Cercis siliquastrum

Acer, not the computer company, but the genus of maples, is derived from the Latin word ācer, meaning sharp, as the lobes are often pointed, and should properly be pronounced as ahker. Acer circinatum is so named due to its round leaves, which is Neo-Latin from Linnaeus, and that derived from Greek kerkis, or "Redbud," probably Cercis siliquastrum, the "Judas Tree," the tree that Judas supposedly hanged himself from.

Acer japonicum

Acer nipponicum

Acer tataricum

Acer tataricum ssp. ginnala 'Little Elf'

Acer japonicum denotes a tree coming from Japan, and so does Acer nipponicum, while Acer tataricum refers to a maple that comes from the land of the Tartars, the Great Steppe which reaches from the Ural Mountains to the Pacific Ocean. This species name was coined by Linnaeus in 1753. The subspecies ginnala refers to its vernacular name, coming from the Amur region in central China. We even introduced a dwarf form, 'Little Elf', which arose as a seedling, and grows to only 2' tall by 2' wide in ten years.

Cathaya argyrophylla

Cathaya is a monotypic genus from China. It was named to honor Cathay, the old name for the "Celestial Empire." The name was used by Marco Polo, and was a corruption of the Tartar name for north China – Khitai, or the land of the Khitans. The species name, argyrophylla, translates as "silvery leaves," as the needles are glossy green above, with showy silvery undersides. A form, nanchuanensis, can be found near Kunming, Yunnan, China, or so I now read, but I wasn't aware of that when I was in the city in the 1980's. Heck, I had never heard of the genus Cathaya in the 1980's.

Cryptomeria japonica

Cryptomeria japonica, from Japan of course, is referred to as "sugi," and commonly called the "Japanese Cedar." The origin of Cryptomeria is modern Latin crypto, from Greek kryptos, meaning hidden; and meros, a "part." All because the seeds are hidden by scales. David Don, a Scottish botanist, was involved in naming Cryptomeria, and D. Don is often used after the botanical name. Don was a professor of botany at Kings College in London, and also a librarian of the Linnean Society of London from 1822 until his death in 1841. He was in the right place at the right time to put his stamp after many great conifers, such as the "Coast Redwood," Taxodium sempervirens, now Sequoia sempervirens; the "Santa Lucia Fir," Pinus bracteata, now Abies bracteata; and the "Grand Fir," Pinus grandis, now Abies grandis.

A Pleione garden

Pleione 'Ridgeway'

Pleione 'Versailles'

Pleione 'Alishan'

David Don also named the genus Pleione, a group of hardy (for me) ground orchids that I at first grew as a hobby but also now for profit. In Greek mythology, Pleione was an Oceanid nymph, from southern Greece, and was the protectress of sailing. I would have loved to have met her, or I still would love to meet her.

Bletilla striata 'Alba'

Similarly, we have the genus Bletilla, another terrestrial orchid from eastern Asia. The species striata, is from the Latin word striatus, meaning "striped," in reference to the striped floral parts. I grow Bletilla striata 'Alba', a delightful little treat, as shown above. The name Bletilla is after one Louis Blet, a botanist and apothecary (today a pharmacist).

Bletilla ochracea

The "Chinese Butterfly," Bletilla ochracea, from western Africa and south Asia, is used by "healers" to cure "vampire disease," and God help them for that. It treats bacterial infections and prevents malaria, and is also used to treat anthrax infection. So, there you have the details, or do you? The species name refers to its Latin word meaning, "ochraceous," or ochre-colored, which is any of various natural earths which contain ferric oxide, silica or itilumia, which are used as red or yellow pigments.

Pinus ponderosa

When you ponder, you think about or weigh an idea or a situation. That has its origin in the Old French ponderer, from Latin ponderare to weigh, from pondus, weight. Pinus ponderosa, or the huge "weighty pine," was considered by David Douglas to be the largest, most ponderous, of all the new-world pines.

Pinus jeffreyi

Pinus jeffreyi at Yosemite

Pinus jeffreyi

Close in appearance to Pinus ponderosa is Pinus jeffreyi, named in honor of botanist/collector John Jeffrey. The range of Pinus jeffreyi begins in southern Oregon, and extends down the eastern length of California, mostly found at higher elevations in the Sierras, as opposed to the more lowland range of ponderosa. Needles are in fascicles of three, and are long and gray-green in color, but have the quality to shimmer in sunlight. Ponderosa emits very little odor, but jeffreyi's resin can smell like vanilla, lemon or pineapple, and once in a tree book I read that it smelled like butterscotch. I've never been able to detect butterscotch, but I have used the smell test to determine the species numerous times in the Sierra.

Pinus ponderosa can be used to distill turpentine, but jeffreyi contains exceptional purity of n-heptane, and can explode when ignited. The distiller must know exactly which species he is using.

Pinus jeffreyi 'Joppi'

We grow one cultivar of Pinus jeffreyi, 'Joppi', and it is a dwarf form which originated as a seedling in Vergeldt's Nursery in the Netherlands, and named for his son. Site it carefully, however, as it can eventually grow quite large.

Pinus jeffreyi 'Gold'

We also collected one plant of Pinus jeffreyi 'Gold' which colored brilliantly in winter, but unfortunately lost it in transplanting. The photo of 'Gold' above was taken in October, and was a non-event at the time, as you can see.

John Jeffrey was a Scottish botanist who worked as a gardener in Edinburgh's Royal Botanic Garden, a wonderful plant collection I have visited three times. Jeffrey was sent to America's west coast to carry on the work of David Douglas (1799-1834). He was tough, as he walked from Hudson's Bay all 1200 miles to reach the Columbia River at the age of 24. He explored for four years in Oregon, Washington and California, sending plant material back to Scotland. But in 1854 he disappeared and was never heard from again, presumed dead at age 28. Whenever I'm in California, I have a fantasy that I would stumble upon his remains, maybe pulling specimens and field notes out of his bag. David Douglas was also a tough Scotsman, who regularly walked twenty miles a day, and he perished at age 35.

Tsuga x jeffreyi

Tsuga heterophylla (?) 'Iron Springs'

Tsuga heterophylla

One final plant is Tsuga x jeffreyi, a natural hybrid between Tsuga mertensiana and Tsuga heterophylla, and a stand has been located in Washington state, east of the Cascades. It looks more mertensiana than heterophylla to me, and was once considered just a variation of mertensiana. The photo above of x jeffreyi was taken at the Gimborn Arboretum in The Netherlands. A cultivar of Tsuga heterophylla, supposedly, is 'Iron Springs', but I wonder if it is perhaps the hybrid. I laugh when knuckleheads list 'Iron Springs' as a "dwarf," as my 28-year-old specimen is already over twenty feet tall.

So, there's just a sample of my origin obsession, my derivement compulsion. One can obviously get carried away and squander a lot of time...and it's noon now and I'm hungry. But, let's see: what is the origin of the word "lunch?"...from Spanish (1812) short for luncheon, a light meal in the middle of the day. For breakfast I had an omelette, from French for a "small pan," although one time an omelette world record was set using 160,000 eggs in Yokohama, Japan. For dinner, from Old French disner.....

Buchholz preaching plant names

Japanese Plant Names

Conifers Part 1: The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs, 9th Edition

Acer Part 2: The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs, 9th Edition

Trees and Shrubs Part 3: The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs, 9th Edition

Specific Epithets Part 4: The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs, 9th Edition

The Gossler Catalog

Out Into the Real World

Continental Conifers

IDS TOUR – California 2019

IDS Tour – California 2019 Part 2

A Wonderful Weekend

An Early Flora Wonder Blog

Good Bye, So-Long, Farewell

Saving the Japanese Plant Manual

December 21 2020

Happy New Year!

Plants from England

Tiger Lily

'Hooker's Legacy'

The Whence