Flora Wonder Blog

To be honest, I could never completely slog my way through a Hemingway novel, but I've always chuckled at the passage in The Sun Also Rises: “How did you go bankrupt?” Answer: “Two ways, Gradually, then suddenly.” Many nursery companies went under in the past decade, but I wonder how many could have been saved with better leadership. The large nursery next door flopped, the huge nursery where I first worked failed, and even the giant Monrovia Nursery had to bail out by selling their souls to the Lowe's box store. For many it must have seemed like a bad dream where you have an urgent purpose but you are paralyzed and cannot get going. The neighbor kept producing plants on the one end, and then burned crop after crop on the other...until the money ran out. Smoke from smoldering soil laced with fertilizer and pesticides billowed over our valley for a couple of years, and now the new ownership is doing the same thing.

Cornus kousa 'Summer Fun'

At Buchholz Nursery we're content with our modest enterprise and at least we turn a profit. But I question our long-term viability every time we propagate. There is no magic formula about what to produce and how many, and I rely on gut instincts like I always have. How many Cornus kousa 'Summer Fun' should we grow? Well, fortunately we have a market at the one-year graft size, so we'll sell some young plants this summer hopefully. Eventually a row of 30 will go into the field because the trunk calipers develop better in the ground than in a container. Five-to-seven years later they will be dug and put into wood boxes, and these will sit at the nursery for a full year to recover from the digging before they are sold. So, let's see, it might be year 2025 before I get a return on my investment, and that's if all goes well.

Picea abies 'Malena'

This past week we finished grafting and sticking cuttings for the winter season, so let's take a look at what was propagated. A cute “Norway spruce,” Picea abies 'Malena' was grafted low onto Picea abies rootstock, but we also planted a couple hundred cuttings, and the cutting grown plants make for a great addition to our cutie (QT) pot program. 'Malena' grows about an inch a year on its own roots so it stays low and dense and it takes about six years to fill a one-gallon pot. That's not highly profitable, but then very little effort is required from the nurseryman. Our oldest plant is in full sun in the Display Garden, and it never suffers like some of the other dwarf Norways, even when we get to 106 degrees with no humidity. 'Malena' originated as a witch's broom mutation in Switzerland in the 1980's.

Picea glauca 'Pixie Dust'

Picea glauca 'Pixie Dust' is a fun plant, and likewise we root cuttings as well as graft low and on standards. Any way presented it is a special addition to a trough or rock garden. As a miniature you can expect it to grow from one to four inches per year, and I find it best to keep my stock plants in a greenhouse so that I'll be rewarded with the four inches per year. What is special about the little Alberta spruce is its second flush of growth in summer that is cream yellow, a “dusting” (by pixies?) that contrasts with the older green shoots. I grew a group in our containers in full sun and the yellow growth help up fairly well, nevertheless I think that PM shade would be the best site in most gardens to keep the foliage looking fresh. 'Pixie Dust' originated at Iseli Nursery in the 1990's and it was selected as one of two “Conifers of the Year” in 2006.

Picea orientalis 'Tom Thumb'

Another attractive miniature is Picea orientalis 'Tom Thumb'. We graft it onto Picea abies seedlings, and unlike the above two conifers I've never had success rooting the orientalis species (I would love to hear if someone else has). 'Tom Thumb' is the name often encountered in the trade while some name it 'Tom Thumb Gold'. Whichever way, make no mistake, for the plant is gold and there doesn't exist a green version. And no wonder for it originated as a witch's broom mutation on the golden Picea orientalis 'Skylands', and was discovered in the 1980's by Joel Spingam of New York state. 'Tom Thumb' is another miniature, growing one-to-two inches per year, and again I keep my stock in the greenhouse to force the longer growth. In Oregon it will burn in full sun, but in deep shade the foliage will be greenish, so its best to site similar to the 'Pixie Dust'.

Picea pungens 'Maigold'

Picea pungens 'Gebelle's Golden Spring'

Picea pungens 'Spring Blast'

Picea pungens 'Spring Ghost'

There are a few cultivars of “Colorado spruce,” Picea pungens, that feature new growth in April-May that are colored delightfully in contrast with the older foliage. 'Maigold' (Maygold) from Europe and 'Gebelle's Golden Spring' from Ohio are two very worthy conifers with a cream-yellow flush. The fun lasts for about six weeks before the bright needles begin to fade, and at that point you have a regular looking blue-green Colorado spruce again. The new growth on 'Spring Blast' is more white, while the old foliage is more blue than the previous two cultivars. All of these three are an improvement over my original bi-colored 'Spring Ghost' which burns mercilessly. One wag dubbed it: “Spring Ghost, summer toast,” even though my first tree in the Display Garden (at 35 years of age) looks absolutely spectacular in May before it gets hot.

Tsuga mertensiana 'Bump's Blue'

Tsuga mertensiana 'Powder Blue'

My favorite conifer might be Tsuga mertensiana, the “Mountain hemlock” from the mountains of western North America. I favor it primarily because I am most happy when I am away from work and everybody with their problems and I can hike into the thin air where the hemlock hovers on the slopes of our Cascade Mountains. Foliage is blue-gray, but in July light-blue new growth sparkles diamond-like on the tree. T. mertensiana was named for Karl Heinrich Mertens (1796-1830), a German botanist who explored the coast of America aboard a Russian ship. Some question if T. mertensiana should be included in the Tsuga genus because it is very different form the rest with its radially arranged needles and relatively large Picea-like pendant cones. It went from being classified as Pinus mertensiana to Hesperopeuce mertensiana before being lumped into the Tsugas. In any case we graft some of the most blue cultivars onto seedling T. mertensiana – it's not compatible with the other Tsugas – and it's a long process to get the slow-growing conifer to a salable size. 'Bump's Blue' and 'Powder Blue' are Buchholz introductions, while 'Blue Star' was selected in 1965 by L. Konijn from The Netherlands. 'Elizabeth' is a spreading form, growing twice as wide as tall, and was discovered on Mt. Rainier by Elsie Fry who named it for her daughter. Cultivars of T. mertensiana are rare at the garden centers because they are slow-growing and stock trees tend to produce less-than-vigorous scion shoots. Even the rootstock is slow, and ours are four-to-five years old when we are able to graft.

Abies koreana 'Alpine Star'

I enjoy producing Abies grafts because our percentages are usually very high, and besides I like their smell. Can I detect which species is being cut by smell alone? Probably not with accuracy, but almost. As with Mountain hemlock I like the “true firs” because most species originate at the higher elevations. One favorite dwarf is Abies koreana 'Alpine Star'. It was aptly named because its white buds sparkle against the dark green foliage. This tiny gem was selected in Scotland and it is sometimes named 'Alpin Star'.

Abies lasiocarpa 'Hurricane Blue'

Abies lasiocarpa 'Glacier Blue'

Abies koreana x lasiocarpa

Abies lasiocarpa is the “sub-alpine fir,” and it is native to western North America and the Rockies in regions that also contain the mountain hemlock. The specific name refers to the hairy cone scales, but the distinguishing characteristic is the narrow crown. The variety arizonicais the “Corkbark fir” from Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona, but I've never seen it in the wild to know if the crown is also spire-like. It is known for much more blue foliage, so I assume that the various upright pyramidal cultivars with intense blue needles are var. arizonica. 'Hurricane Blue' and 'Glacier Blue' are especially attractive, but without their labels I probably couldn't tell one apart from the other. Also we grow a few hybrids with Abies koreana crossed with Abies lasiocarpa, and those are of German origin. I think the point of the hybrid is that A. koreana is considered easier to grow than straight A. lasiocarpa. In any case the hybrid shows characteristics of both parents, and displays soft gray-blue needles with silver undersides.

Abies koreana 'Vengels'

I grew Abies koreana 'Vengels' from scions that were sent to me, but I had never seen an older specimen or knew why it was selected. I observed that it was relatively slow-growing and upright but not a dwarf. One spring day I walked past my six-year-old trees and was stunned by the beautiful, but odd cones, and instantly I knew why it was a selected cultivar. The cones were more long and narrow than the type with pointy scales. When my oldest trees were ten years old I put them up for sale since I had younger stock in the pipeline. They sold on day one, then I completely regretted parting with them. Sometimes capitalism engulfs me and I make decisions I wished I hadn't. Anyway if you ever see 'Vengels' for sale – from me or anyone – you are advised to buy the wonderful curiosity.

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Strawberries and Cream'

We grafted our Hamamelis a couple of weeks ago, when most of our cultivars were in flower. The blossoms appear on the older branches so they don't affect the newer shoots that we use for scionwood. Generally the “witch hazels” are not strong sellers for me – not like with Acer, Cornus, Ginkgo etc. – because they flower so early, before we ship most of our specimen plants. If they're not in bloom they sit at the garden center looking green and boring, and their customers bypass them for something more exciting. So each fall I order 300 Hamamelis virginiana rootstocks in pots at a graftable size, then I have my choice of about twenty cultivars that I could graft. This year half of them were used for H. x intermedia 'Strawberries and Cream' because it is a newer cultivar (for me) and besides I like the name. Each flower consists of four ribbon-like yellow petals that are colored soft red at their base, a fun combination. The garden centers needn't worry if they don't sell in spring or summer because the brilliant butter-yellow autumn foliage is spectacular as well.

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Orange Peel' at Wisley

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Orange Peel'

Another Hamamelis that we grafted is H x. intermedia 'Orange Peel', and once again I like the name. I first saw it at Wisley in England one October, and the green leaves were beginning to color orange. I left the path and stepped into the bed to take a close-up photo...and just then a gardener rounded the corner with his rake and wheelbarrow. He didn't say anything, but I sure would have if I was the gardener! Anyway I've grown 'Orange Peel' for about ten years, and besides the lovely fall color the February flowers are a strong orange as well. This is one of many witch hazels developed at the Arboretum Kalmthout in Belgium.

Betula ermanii 'Fincham Cream'

Brian Humphrey

We grafted a few Betula costata 'Fincham Cream', or so said the label in the Flora Wonder Arboretum. According to Paul Bartlett of Stone Lane Gardens in England the costata species has no cultivars, and all of the cultivars previously placed in costata are in fact Betula ermanii. So, another label to change. I used to be a grower of birches but could never find a good market for them, and this year's propagation is the first time in 15 years. Who knows, maybe my customers will live it up a little and give this nice cultivar a chance. I received my start of 'Fincham Cream' a long time ago, back when I was young. Now my hair is as white as the birch's bark. Bartlett continues, “['Fincham Cream'] from the late Maurice Mason's arboretum at Talbot Manor, Fincham. A batch of seedlings were grown at Brentry/Hillier arboretum and five of these trees were sent by Harold Hillier to Maurice Mason as Betula costata. The best one was selected by Brian Humphrey and called 'Fincham Cream'. Very attractive pale cream smooth bark and superb gold autumn colour.” Brian Humphrey is the Englishman who sent me scions, and until today I didn't know that he also selected the birch. I really should buy the Betula monograph The Genus Betula (2013) by Ashburner and McAllister even though it is horribly expensive.

Betula utilis in the Himalaya

Betula utilis 'Forest Blush'

Next to the 'Fincham Cream' in the Betula section at Flora Farm is Betula utilis 'Forest Blush', also selected and named by Brian Humphrey for its “smooth white bark with a hint of blush-pink. From seed collected by George Forrest in Yunnan, China.” (Hillier). I didn't know that Mr. Humphrey was old enough to be selecting birch seedlings collected by George Forrest. Botanist David Don named the utilis species which means “useful,” but prior to that John Lindley named it B. bhojpattra, its Sanskrit name. It is native to the Himalaya up to 14,000', and one of its “uses” was for writing on the bark Sanskrit scriptures and texts in ancient times. Bhojpattra is derived from Sanskrit bhurja which shares a similarity to other Indo-European words that lead to the common name of “birch.”

Betula utilis var. jacquemontii 'Jermyns'

The final birch we grafted is B. utilis var. jacquemontii 'Jermyns' which received an Award of Garden Merit. It features attractive bark like the previous two mentioned, but is also famous for its long catkins. According to Hillier, “A very vigorous, medium-sized, broadly-conical tree; the very fine white bark is retained into maturity. Catkins long and showy, up to 17 cm. Selected at Hillier Nurseries before 1960 from plants of var. jacquemontii received from the Netherlands via Belgium.” Who knows if I am wasting my time by propagating these three Betula, but one can do worse than be a swinger...er seller of birches.

Sorbus commixta

Sorbus commixta graft

Embley Park House

Florence Nightingale

I was pleased to receive some scions of Sorbus commixta, a species from Japan, Sakhalin Island and the Korean peninsula. Wait! Did I see this species on TV behind the ski run at the Olympics? All of the better British gardens contain S. commixta which is famous for its orange-to-red autumn color. One cultivar I received is 'Embley', “A superb small tree, with its leaves consistently glowing red in autumn, colouring generally later and remaining on the branches longer. Large, heavy branches of glistening orange-red fruits. Originated at Embley Park in Hampshire before 1970. AM 1971.” (Hillier). Embley Park was the family home of Florence Nightingale from 1825 until her death in 1910, and where “the Lady with the Lamp” claimed she had received her divine calling from God. Another Sorbus grafted was 'Eastern Promise', a hybrid of S. commixta 'Embley'x S. vilmorinii, the latter a species from China introduced by the Abbe Delavay in 1889. Hillier calls S. vilmorinii, “A charming species suitable for a small garden. AM 1916.”

Juana grafting

Again I boast of my talented grafter Juana, and not only that, but she also led the rooted cutting crew. This year we propagated many hundreds of species and cultivars, but nothing – no matter how popular today – in huge numbers. In the past “good times” the owner of the neighboring nursery pitied me for my conservative, collector-approach to horticulture. In those days he made more money than I, but then he lost it all as his market crashed. I'm not smugly confident though, and probably I worry about my future more than any other nursery owner.

Komo rebi

I read recently that an English author/poet – I can't remember who just now – wrote about a plant that if he was forced to know its botanical name that would ruin its magic. I should have written down the quote and by whom, but I didn't because I thought I would remember it forever, and now two weeks later it's gone. Anyway I completely disagree with the sentiment, and for me the “magic” comes from knowing everythingabout the plant, its story in old times as well as in recent days. My wife would probably agree with the poet, for she introduced me to the wonderful concept of komo rebi– that the light that comes through a tree's leaves, rather than the leaves themselves, is what interests her, and the scientific name further encumbers her pleasure. She is the person who named an Acer shirasawanum seedling as 'Sensu' because she was delighted with its fan-like fluttering leaves one summer evening, and sensu means “fan” in Japanese.

Acer shirasawanum 'Sensu'

Jim Baggett

Yes, 'Sensu' is a beautiful maple whether its leaves flutter or not, and it can be especially brilliant with orange-to-red autumn color. But let's examine its “story.” It was one of many hundreds of Japanese maple seedlings grown by the late Jim Baggett of Corvallis, Oregon, a former food-crop breeder at Oregon State University. The mother tree of 'Sensu' was Acer shirasawanum 'Palmatifolium' which is possibly a hybrid between shirasawanum and palmatum, and indeed 'Sensu' looks intermediate between the two species. The seed was harvested in an open garden setting that was chock-a-block with maple seedlings and cultivars, so we don't really know who was cavorting with who. Baggett was a keen maple hobbyist, but prior to that he was into bamboo. One winter his maple collection – largely in small pots – perished in the freeze, and he was actually relieved because he tired of watering them all by hand. Next he grew enamoured with ferns, or perhaps that was before the maples. Later it was Hostas, but I could never understand how Hostas could satisfy your plant lust after maples. So Baggett raised'Sensu' even though I named and introduced it. The same is true for A. shirasawanum 'Kawaii', 'Shira Red', 'Green Snowflake' and others: he grew, then I named and introduced.

Acer palmatum

There is more to the 'Sensu' story...which I find of great interest. The maple belongs in the Sapindaceae family* with a lot of other trees that appear very different. Its generic name is Acer, a word that comes from Latin for “sharp,” probably due to many species having sharply pointed leaves. If Latin is the origin of Acer, it shouldn't be pronounced the way it is (“Ā ser”), but rather “Ah ker.” Too late for that now, though.

Aesculus hippocastanum

Koelreuteria paniculata

*The “soapberry” family contains 138 genera and 18,58 accepted species which includes the golden raintree (Koelreuteria), horse chestnuts and lychee. Many members contain latex, a milky sap, and others “saponins” which is mildly toxic with soap-like qualities in the foliage, seeds or roots.

Acer shirasawanum

Yasuyoshi Shirasawa

Tomitaro Makino

The specific category of 'Sensu' is shirasawanum, although I have admitted that there could be palmatum blood in it also. In any case the seed rises above the leaves per shirasawanum. The species is the “Full moon maple” from Japan's Honshu, Shikoku and Kyushu Islands, and the chicken-scratch Japanese characters translate to ooitayameigetsu. “Shirasawa's maple” honors Yasuyoshi Shirasawa (1868-1947), a Japanese botanist who worked with Tomitaro Makino, the “Father of Japanese botany” at the University of Tokyo. Shirasawa named many native plants such as Picea koyamae and Tilia kiusiana.* Shirasawa is also a village located in Adachi District of Fukushima Prefecture, the area devastated by the horrific tsunami a few years ago.

She got married anyway...

*My wife Haruko grew up in Tokyo where she recognized a preponderance of old Ginkgo, Platanus and Liriodendron tulipifera, the latter an American species. These were growing in parks and as heavily-pruned street trees, and it was Shirasawa who promoted their use. It was Haruko's love of his trees that led her to the study of landscape architecture and her University degree, and ultimately to a year of internship in America to learn more about plants. She promised her father that she would not get married while in America.

Rhododendron makinoi

I believe that nothing mentioned above takes any of the “magic” out of 'Sensu', but rather adds to it. You could call it the “Allure of Lore,” with lore meaning a “particular body of knowledge or tradition,” from Old High German lera for “doctrine” and Old English leornian“to learn.” It's too late, but I would have loved to have spent a day with old Shirasawa and Makinoi, but at least I have their plants, with many cultivars of Acer shirasawanum and with Rhododendron makinoi. True, these botanists wore their brains gazing through their microscopes at what exists/existed, while my wife revels at the light spaces between the leaves and branches. They were empirically-oriented scientists studying and classifying plants while Haruko occupies a more ethereal or dreamy realm.

A falling leaf

Flew back to its perch.

A butterfly.

Pinus contorta var. contorta

Regular Flora Wonder Blog readers know that at the beginning of my career I worked for an enormous wholesale nursery – now bankrupt – that produced millions of boring trees and shrubs. In my six years there I went from being the new grunt to the manager of a farm that employed 110 men. To be honest I was appointed “manager” by default. It wasn't that I was so great, but rather that there was nobody else even half capable. But in my tenure there I never once used a botanic name for the plants we grew, and even the owner didn't know the botanic name of any of his plants. It didn't matter (to him), and he made scads of money anyway and died a multi-millionaire with a Rolls Royce in his garage. Seriously. It wasn't until I began my own nursery that I found scientific nomenclature to be not only important, but also interesting. For example the conifers were mainly all Pinus at one point, then eventually they were separated into Pinus, Abies, Picea, Pseudotsuga etc. I became fascinated with this naming of names*, and now botanical history has become a hobby that I will pursue until the day I die.

*The Naming of Namesby British author Anna Pavord is an exciting adventure into botanical history, and though ten years my senior, she is probably the first person I would choose to spend an evening with if I could.

Picea polita

Abies procera

Gustav Karl Wilhelm Hermann Karsten

One of my first nomenclatural lessons was that Picea was the generic name for “spruce” and Abieswas for the “true” firs. To the general public they surely appear to be about the same – upright, evergreen trees that produce cones that are often full of sticky pitch. But of course the cones are erect on the branches of the firs, while the Picea cones are erect at first but then drop downward as they mature (I'm tempted, but wont make a joke here). And anybody who works with Picea and Abies knows that the former has prickly needles while the latter are more soft (again, no jokes). But at first I was confused. Let's see: Picea is spruce and Abies is fir...then what the hell is Picea abies? What a confusing name for the common “Norway spruce!” We can blame Linnaeus/Karsten for the problematic name. You all know about Linnaeus, but I'll tell you a little about Karsten – Gustav Karl Wilhelm Hermann Karsten (1817-1908), but why so many names? He was a German botanist and geologist who followed my hero, Alexander von Humboldt, and traveled in Venezuela, Ecuador and Colombia from 1844 to 1856, and later served as professor of plant physiology at the University of Vienna. As follower of Linnaeus he was the binomial author of many botanic species.

Acer pensylvanicum

Scilla peruviana

Last week's Flora Wonder Blog, The Allure of Lore, suggested that the more you know about the scientific name of a plant, the more you can appreciate it, and that no diminishment to its “magic” need occur. After all, the haughty botanists who bestowed most of the generic and specific names (after the Linnaeus binomial system) were allowed the award of “first name sticks” no matter how dumb or wrong it might seem to us today. Thus we have Acer pensylvanicum spelled rong – but too late – and Scilla peruviana that doesn't come from Peru.

Abies lasiocarpa

I'll admit that the botanic names are sometimes rather petty, or at least to me. We learned last week that Abies lasiocarpa was named for its hairy cone scales. If I looked at the fir for every day of my life I would never distinguish it for its hairy scales. On the other hand, the next time I see a cone I will certainly check the scales, and hopefully I will be with someone so I can boast of my botanic knowledge.

Abies balsamea var. phanerolepis rootstock

For the past few years we have been keeping track of the species of rootstock used as understock for our Abies grafts. Prior to that I could only tell you what we used for the current season, not what the rootstock might have been ten years ago. The choices could have been A. koreana, A. firma, A. balsamea or A. balsamea var. phanerolepis. To a customer in the humid southeast USA, he would be happy to know that the A. firma was the rootstock, and for someone in Oregon he probably wouldn't care. This past winter the majority of our grafts was on A. balsamea var. phanerolepis, commonly known as “Canaan fir.” It is native to isolated pockets in the mountains of Virginia and West Virginia, and the common name comes from one location in the Canaan Valley northeast of Elkins, West Virginia. For you heathens in the readership, Canaan was a Semitic-speaking region in the ancient Near East that corresponds to modern-day Israel, Palestine and Jordan. Phanerolepis is derived from Greek phaner or phanero for “visible” or “manifest,” and lepis meaning “scale.” Therefore you have a fir with conspicuous bracts unlike the hairy cones of A. lasiocarpa mentioned previously.

Corydalis flexuosa 'Blue Panda'

Agonis flexuosa

Reuben Hatch

Let's take a look at some other plant names and see what we can learn. Last week we sold out of our crop of Corydalis flexuosa 'Blue Panda'. It was collected in China and named by my “grandfather” Reuben Hatch about 30 years ago. Later it was patented by Terra Nova Nursery of Oregon but it should nothave been because 1) it was collected in the wild and 2) it had been sold under the 'Blue Panda' name for about five years prior to the patent. The specific name of flexuosa is a guess and I'm not sure if that was ever proven for certain. Flexuosa does not mean “flexible” in the botanic sense, rather it means “full of bends” in Latin. A few other flexuosa species include Agonis flexuosa (a tree species), Grevillea flexuosa (a shrub species), Deschampsia flexuosa (a bunch grass species), Scutellastra flexuosa (a sea snail) and others. I don't know what is so “bendful” with the Corydalis – the foliage or flower?

Corydalis scouleri

Fumaria officinalis (photo by Luis Nunes Alberto)

John Scouler

The origin of the word Corydalis is from Greek korudallis which is a variant of korudos for “crested lark” referring to the appearance of the flowers. The flowers are similar to an annual weed, Fumaria, whose name is from Latin fumus terrae, meaning “smoke of the earth.” Fumaria is a genus of about 60 species and it grows all over the world. Corydalis is native to Asia, Europe and North America and we even have a species in Oregon, C. scouleri, which honors Scottish naturalist John Scouler (1804-1871). Scouler was smarter than he looked, and after accompanying David Douglas on the Columbia River he returned to Europe and was appointed professor of mineralogy, geology, zoology, and botany to the Royal Dublin Society. I have traveled and botanized on the Columbia also, but I have never been appointed to any “professorship” ever.

Corylopsis glaucophylla

Corylopsis spicata 'Golden Spring'

The entry following Corydalis on the Buchholz Master Plant List is Corylopsis, and the genus is commonly known as the “winter hazel.” That's obvious because the generic name comes from corylus for “hazel” and the Latin suffix opsis meaning “resembling.” Generally speaking I don't like naming plants for other plants that they resemble, and I think that the botanical namers should have been more original. Besides, Corylopsis is in the Hamamelaceae family and Corylus is in the Betulaceae family. Corylopsis spicata (Latin for “spiked”) is a species with the attractive cultivar 'Golden Spring' and it is the only winter hazel we currently propagate. I have a number of other species in the collection but they didn't sell very well. The nomenclature is murky for Corylopsis anyway, or at least it was for me. One species had beautiful foliage and was called glaucophyllaby the now defunct Heronswood Nursery, but I've never seen it listed before or after I acquired my plant 15 years ago. Could it have been that glaucophylla was a cultivar name? If so it is an illegitimate name.

Crocus sieberi 'Firefly'

We have never sold Crocus at Buchholz Nursery, however the genus is no stranger to the Flora Wonder Arboretum. It is a member of the iris family which develops from corms and I am delighted to know that the plural of Crocus is Croci, pronounced as krō-kē. There are about 75 species native to the Alps, southern Europe and the Mediterranean and they perform spectacularly in Oregon...well, if you can keep the damn squirrels away from them. Crocus is the saffron plant and the name is from Greek krokos which is of Semitic origin, from the Akkadian* kurkanu for saffron. In particular I like Crocus sieberi, a late-winter bloomer also known as the “snow crocus.” The species is named for Franz Sieber (1789-1844), a botanist and collector from Prague who traveled to the Middle East, South Africa and Australia. In his later life Sieber went loony and wound up in the Prague insane asylum where he spent his final fourteen years, but don't blame the Croci for his dementia.

The Akkadian Empire (from the Ancient History Encyclopedia)

Bronze Head of an Akkadian Ruler

*The Akkadian Empire was the first or one of the first “empires” in history. The Semitic-speaking people were centered in the city of Akkad and they ruled across Mesopotamia, the Levant and Anatolia (modern-day Turkey). Sargon of Akkad (2296-2240 BCE) was the most famous of the bad-ass rulers, except that under his command women were actually respected and got to play important roles in religious matters. As with today's constant turmoil, the cities within the empire squabbled – I think it's a genetic thing – and the empire collapsed, and was then followed by the Babylonian Civilization.

Aesculus hippocastanum 'Wisselink' at Sebright Gardens

What's the skinny on the variegated “Horse chestnut,” Aesculus hippocastanum 'Wisselink'? I first saw the cultivar at the Bellevue Botanic Garden near Seattle, then again at Sebright Gardens, Oregon, where a magnificent specimen was displayed. The foliage on the cultivar was nearly white (in spring) with enough green in the leaf veins to keep the selection from burning horribly in summer. Thomas Johnson of Sebright told me that his tree came from Lucile at Whitman Farms, Oregon. I begged one from Lucile and the other day we picked up our tree, but it was labeled A. h. 'Variegata'. So...I'm wondering if I have the real 'W.'?

Aesculus hippocastanum

Irina Boboshko

Vladimir Horowitz

I'm not a chestnut guy – I've always figured that I didn't have room for the various species in the collection, but Sebright's wonderful specimen allowed me to change my mind. Aesculus hippocastanum is the “Horse chestnut,” a species native to the “wild border region between Greece and Albania,” according to Hillier in the Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2014). Wow! – I was there when I was single in my 20's, but I didn't find the region so “wild,” except that I encountered a preponderance of hitch-hiking lesbians...to my dismay. The chestnut is cultivated for its shade-providing properties and for its white, yellow or red flowers. Hillier says that it is “Possibly the most beautiful of large, flowering trees in the British Isles,” but he doesn't mention the cultivars 'Variegata' or 'Wisselink'. The common name of “Horse chestnut” is because it was thought that horses ate the seeds to clear chest problems and to help with breathing. Nonsense to that because the fruit and seeds are actually poisonous to horses. Those so afflicted will be happy to know that A. hippocastanum has an anti-inflammatory property, and so it is effective in the treatment of hemorrhoids, a form of varicose veins. If only Napoleon could have known. Oh, lest I forget the subject of this blog, the name Aesculusis Latin for a variety of oak tree, although chestnuts and oaks are not in the same botanical family. Besides curing butt-itch, the tree is often found in Bavarian beer gardens, because in olden times, before refrigeration, brewers would dig cellars for lagering, and the chestnut's spreading, dense canopy would protect the cellars from summer heat and the shallow root-system would not grow into the caverns. Also, Ukranians love the species, and its flower is the symbol of the city of Kiev, the birthplace of pianist Vladimir Horowitz and home to the beautiful, former Buchholz Nursery intern, Irina Boboshko, one of our best ever.

Cotoneaster frigidus

The genus Cotoneaster is a useful small tree or shrub in the rose family, and the gardener (and his birds) is/are rewarded with glossy yellow-to-orange-to-red fruits in autumn and early winter. Oddly, the generic name is from Latin cotoneumfor “quince” and aster which denotes “incomplete resemblance,” which implies that it is a plant that resembles a quince, but not quite. “Quince,” or Chaenomeles is a genus of shrubs also in the rose (Rosaceae) family. The generic name Chaenomeles is from New Latin chaemo, and that from Greek chainein and Greek meles for “apple” or “fruit.” Apple is generically Malus – not as in “Malice for None,” and also nothing bad – but rather a genus in the Rosaceae family distinguished by fruit without grit cells. Malusis derived from Latin malum for “apple,” and that from Doric Greek malon. If you were paying attention in high school or freshman college, you would know that “Doric” or “Dorian” was an ancient Greek dialect, and not just a type of architecturally-vertical column. I am particularly enamored with Cotoneaster frigidus which is native to the Himalaya, and I guess it was named because of its origin to a cold place? Frigidus is Latin from frigere“to be cold,” similar to Latin frigusfor “frost,” and that from Greek rhigos. Anyway C. frigidus is a “tree” Cotoneaster, so give it plenty of room in the garden.

Caesalpinia gilliesii

If you want to attract hummingbirds you can do no better than grow a specimen of Caesalpinia gilliesii, the “bird of paradise” with yellow flowers and red filaments. This bush/tree is native to Argentina and Uruguay and some list it as hardy to USDA zone 6. Plant Delights Nursery reports that one survives at the Denver Botanic Garden, but PD rates it as zone 7a. Not only are the flowers very showy, but Caesalpinia is friendly to other plants. The genus has a symbiotic relationship with some soil bacteria, and nodules develop on the roots which provide nitrogen for other plants growing nearby. Caesalpinia was named for the Italian botanist Andrea Cesalpino (1519-1603), and it was bestowed by the Franciscan monk Charles Plumier. Linnaeus retained the name in his system and praised his predecessor with the following: Quisquis hic exstiterit primos concedat honores Casalpine Tibi primaque certa dabit.* Linnaeus honors the Scottish naval surgeon and botanist John Gillies (1792-1834) with the specific name. He was a wimp however, and suffered from poor health and died at age 42 in Edinburgh. While in South America he endured wars and civil unrest along with his chronic ill health, but he was able to send numerous plants to Hooker at the RBG Kew.

*Basically, Cesalpino was the best.

Botanical nomenclature and its history is fascinating, and if I haven't convinced you of that it's the fault of my presentation rather than the subject matter itself. Were we “Wandering Through Nomenclature,” or “Rambling Through Nomenclature?” – you can decide. The word nomenclature is derived from Latin nomen for “name” and calaremeaning “to call.” Botanical nomenclature is really a means of communication, a way of mapping our natural world in a shared language. With this tool I can speak to Icelanders, South Americans and Asian about our earthian floral experience, and we can all learn from each other. My life has been a plebeian grind, and growing plants has not been an easy or secure way to feed my family, but along the way I have found happiness and satisfaction, and thank you Flora for your bountiful gifts.

Flora Wonder Arboretum

I have mixed feelings about the rights of property owners. But I am always right, though. I plant trees in the Flora Wonder Arboretum, and I cut them down when I feel like it without consulting anyone. When a tree isn't prospering, or when two trees are vying for limited space, that's when we sharpen the axe. It's my land and my trees and I pay a lot in property taxes so the government bureaucrats can be ladled with lofty retirement pensions, so nobody is going to tell me what to do.

I was disgusted to read in the local newspaper – which I take mainly for the obituary – that one of Forest Grove, Oregon's 140 year old Sequoiadendron (one of about 20) was being cut down on 18^th Avenue and Elm Street. I knew instantly the tree in question because I grew up just six blocks away, and I was blessed to live under two of Forest Grove's historic trees myself. My whole life, since I was just about eight, I have marveled at the stupidity of the property owner who originally built a house just a few feet away from a giant redwood.

I drove to the location and was shocked to see all of the side branches removed, and the only thing left was a single trunk, and now that has been removed as well. I can cut down a tree if I want, but I was puzzled that the city allowed a historic tree to be removed with no civic discussion. The house in question is a beater home and the only sensible thing to do was tear it down and save the tree. The redwoods of Forest Grove are among the oldest and largest in the world outside of their native stands, in spite of contending with streets and houses for root space.

The section of the paper that alerted me to the murder is called Citizen's View, and two local historians – the Bilderbacks – told the story of how the redwoods came to the Grove in the first place. I will paraphrase their history lesson so the local fish wrap won't sue me for libel. One Johnny Porter arrived in the Forest Grove area via the Oregon Trail in 1847. Like other knuckleheads at the time he was lured to the California gold fields in 1849. He came home without gold, “but armed with tales of magnificent coniferous trees that grew to seemingly unimaginable heights along California's coast. He returned to the California coast at least twice more until the early 1880's, bringing home bags of cones.... Over the decades most have fallen to disease, development, or disregarded.... The 18^th Avenue example is the latest victim.... It's a victim of having been planted 140 or so years ago in an untenable place, too close to houses, streets and utility lines blah blah blah...”

Woah! That's too much. I fired off a letter to the editor immediately which was published the following week:

In Citizens View, February, 28, 2018 the local Bilderback historians told the story of Johnny Porter, a Gold Rush "Forty-Niner," who brought back redwood cones to the Forest Grove area.

Sequoia sempervirens

While I applaud any mention of Forest Grove's wonderful trees, we should get the facts straight. Porter did not collect cones of conifers of "unimaginable heights along California's coast." The tallest trees on earth do indeed occur on the California (and southern Oregon) coast and they are Sequoia sempervirens, commonly called the "coast redwoods." Specimens can reach up to 379 feet and can live up to 1,200-1,800 years.

The road to Johnny Porter's home

The redwood cones that Porter collected were the giantredwoods, Sequoiadendron giganteum, from the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada. They are not as tall as their coastal cousins, but they are more massive in volume. The giants can reach 311 feet tall with a trunk diameter at chest height of 27 feet.

Although San Francisco prospered from the Gold Rush, it did not occur along the coast. Coloma, California is famous for being the site where James W. Marshall found gold in the Sierra Nevada foothills at Sutter's Mill on January 24, 1848. The town is 36 miles northeast of Sacramento.

A botanical error isn't my main purpose for this letter, rather it's the Bilderback's statement concerning the recently murdered redwood at 18^th Ave. and Elm St. : "It's a victim of having been planted 140 or so years ago in an untenable place, too close to houses, streets and utility lines." What a backward comment. The tree predates the beater house that it is ruining. The street and utility lines weren't an issue, as other giant redwoods in town are near them too.

I was initially irate to see the tree denuded of all of its branches, and I assume the entire removal will be soon. I called city hall to discuss the process of getting permission to remove a historic tree. Dan Riordan of city planning responded that the tree wasn't "historic" in a technical sense because the property owners hadn't volunteered to have their tree so designated (kind of like with houses). I learned further that a certified arborist had determined a few years before that the tree had disease issues.

Nelis Kools from The Netherlands, owner of the greatest number of redwood cultivars

Talon Buchholz with Mr. & Mrs. Van Hoey Smith, owners of the Arboretum Trompenburg

Todd Forrest oversees all aspects of the management and development of the New York Botanical Garden

I first thought that the tree had more rights than the property owner, and tear down the house instead. Now I understand that the best course was to remove the tree. But make no mistake: the behemoth will be missed. I am owner of the Flora Wonder Arboretum and I grew up in Forest Grove in a yard with two of the giant redwoods (16^th and Main). I have toured with many of the greatest plantspeople in the world to see Forest Grove's Sequoiadendrons, and everyone's favorite was the spectacle of tree versus house on 18^th Avenue.

Now I retract my conclusion that the “diseased” tree needed to go because once it lay horizontal in pieces I could see that it was perfectly sound, and believe me – I am an expert on tree problems, probably more so than any “certified” arborist from Forest Grove. I asked this “city planner,” Riordan, if another (deranged) property owner wanted to remove another historic tree, say to eliminate the raking of fallen needles, cones and branchlets, or to make way for a new garage for example, then there was nothing to prevent it from happening. He didn't sound worried because the cost “would be prohibitive.” Well, the cost didn't prevent the 18^th Avenue owner from saving his house over the tree. The Forest Grove scuttlebutt is that General Tree Service charged $36,000 for the removal. So, take out a new mortgage and look at it kind of like a kitchen/bathroom remodel. Maybe they purchased the house at a discount price because of its “problem,” and the costly need to address it.

The plot thickens because my daughter is in the same 6th-grade class as the son of the resident parents. I don't know if any arborist declared it diseased, but it was bothering the family because the branches scraped against the bedroom window when the wind blew. Prune a few branches – problem easily solved. But the tree was lifting the house's foundation and the two couldn't co-exist indefinitely. Nobody gave me a chance to buy the property, or to help raise funds for its purchase. Suddenly the tree is gone, all when my back was turned.

Governor Withycombe tree

Another Sequoiadendron was saved about 15 years ago about 8 miles from Forest Grove. A natural-gas pipeline was proposed along Hwy 219 south of Hillsboro, Oregon, and the tree was “in the way.” It could have been one of Johnny Porter's trees but I'm not sure, but I've always admired its up-arm of peace – How!, like a Native American greeting me when I drive past. It was a few years younger than the 18^th Avenue victim, but it was saved when a group got together to protest, me included. The simple answer – my proposal – was to install the pipeline on the otherside of the highway. “Oh oh oh, but the engineers...” For crysakes, the engineers are intelligent people, but they are prone to acting stupid apparently. Anyway the tree was saved and the pipeline went along the other side, and the reason it happened was because someone knew that the tree was planted by the late Governor Withycombe* on his family farm on his wedding day, therefore it was declared a “heritage” tree.

Governor Withycombe

*James Withycombe was Oregon's governor from 1914 until his death in 1919. Born in Tavistock, England he came to Oregon with his parents in 1871 (when only 17).He purchased a farm south of Hillsboro and married Isabel Carpenter on June 5, 1875, and on that day he planted the redwood. The tree is only 120-130' in height, but its circumference was over 35' in 2002. It was dedicated as a "heritage tree" on July 27, 2002.

I seethed in the days that followed the redwood death on 18^thAve. Who was this arborist who deemed a perfectly-healthy tree to be “diseased,” and I'd sure like to see the report.

Araucaria araucana

My 12-year-old daughter and I drive from our country home into Forest Grove a few times each week. I tell her about the trees in the Grove, and I keep it simple and try not to make it preachy or boring. On Maple Street and 17^th Avenue, not far from the horizontal Sequoiadendron, is (er...was) a “Monkey Puzzle” tree, a female with large voluptuous cones. Saya got to learn that the species is dioecious – and what that means, that male and female cones appear on separate trees. Usually. I explained that trees are like people...that, that...Saya waved her hand horizontally, shaking it in the manner of describing someone in the “other” category. God, the kids learn stuff so young these days.

Monkey Puzzle no longer

But to my horror, our Araucaria araucana, all 35' feet of it, all perfectly healthy, had been cut down. Saya knew that I was depressed about the Sequoiadendron, but now I had to deal with the death of our shared friend, the Monkey Puzzle. Why, why, why?

Still pissed about the redwood's death, I called the only arborist listed as “certified” in the Forest Grove area. There are at least 30 “tree specialists” listed on the internet, such as Edwardo's Tree Service and Bjorn's Tree Service, but I thought I would try the one certifiedarborist, whatever that means. When I asked him about the tree's “disease issues” he snapped back defensively that he didn't declare it diseased and that he had nothing to do with its removal. I pressed and asked who else mighthave declared it so, but he didn't know or didn't want to say. I thanked him for his time and was about to hang up, but I asked about the death of the Monkey Puzzle on 17^th and Maple. He responded by saying that he didn't like the species because “it isn't native, and besides they die from overwatering.” I replied that the tree was perfectly healthy; not to argue, but just saying. He repeated that they're not native, that “they come from the Carolinas where they are harvested as timber trees.” I said thank you, thank you and hung up while he was still talking. Even Saya knows they are native to Chile and they are that country's National Tree, not the “Carolinas.” Certifiedarborist, indeed!

For many, March is the time for the NCAA men's and women's basketball tournament, and it is known as “March Madness.” Unfortunately a worse madness has engulfed a few Grovians this month, where property owners can cut down historic or significant trees and that there is no community restraint on them. The Sequoiadendron wasn't a victim of having been planted in an “untenable place,” but rather it was a victim of ignorance, and shame on Forest Grove's non-leaders for allowing it to happen.

16th Ave and Main St. where Buchholz grew up

Abies koreana 'Blue Cone Pendula'

Abies procera 'Glauca Pendula'

I have dozens of plants with 'Pendula'in the cultivar name, not to mention the specific name of Betula pendula. Sometimes the names are probably not valid, such as Abies koreana 'Blue Cone Pendula', where English and Latin are combined, and besides I think it was “selected” after the 1950's when you don't get to use Latin anymore. Not only is the name illegitimate, but the branches and trunk display no pendant characteristic. Maybe the original tree wept, but my 20-year-old specimen has grown into a perfect Christmas-tree shape. The same happened with Abies procera 'Glauca Pendula' which I look at out of the office window every day. I cut the scions myself from the Dutchman's nursery yard, and his tree had crept to 10' wide and less than one foot tall, and I supposed it to be about 20 years old. I threw away the 'Glauca Pendula' label because visitors would look at the label, then at the tree, and then at me like I was crazy. I replaced it with Abies procera 'Glauca' and now the world is right. I'll admit to staking the false 'Glauca Pendula' two or three years after it was grafted so that it would spill out from a centered trunk, then it was planted out into the Display Garden where I didn't really want a big tree. I guess it took matters into its own hand and proudly shot skyward, wanting to be the big shot in the garden.

Xanthocyparis nootkatensis 'Pendula'

Xanthocyparis nootkatensis 'Green Arrow'

Buchholz Nursery and the Flora Wonder Arboretum is a freak-show to some, where there exists very little that's normal. Here green trees are blue, normal-shaped trees are extra skinny or very dwarf, and where species that are supposed to be upright have branches that droop downward. Generally the pendulous trees are more dwarf or narrow so they fit better into today's smaller gardens. Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Pendula' is a better fit than the species type, and in the wild the latter can develop into huge spreading (ugly) trees that no one would want in their garden. Of course, one can do better than C. n. 'Pendula' by planting 'Green Arrow' or 'Van den Akker', which are far more narrow, and in fact you hardly ever see the old 'Pendula' in the garden centers anymore. Excuse me, I should have used the new nomen, Xanthocyparis, instead of Chamaecyparis nootkatensis.

Cupressus x arilosa 'Pendula'

I used to have a large cypress collection with starts coming from botanists, hobbyists, arboreta and other nurserymen. Fortunately, blasts of cold from the Arctic reduced the number of species to a more manageable size. But still the survivors grew to huge proportions and there was never really a good market for them. Some of them went to Flora Farm and I lined them out along the road to the Western hills, and ultimately that might be the reason I bought the 60 acre farm: to house useless non-profitable species. Two Cupressus x arilosa 'Pendula' were planted on rental property near the nursery, and though I don't use that ground anymore, the new owner has allowed them to stay and I see them daily as I drive to work. The parents of the cross were C. arizonica and C. torulosa, the latter a Himalayan-foothill species that's barely hardy in Oregon. I don't know who performed the cross, or if 'Pendula' is any more weeping than any of the other hybrid offspring. Today the trees are 30' tall, and I'm happy that I can “own” them for a few seconds per day without any need to take care of them.

Juniperus rigida 'Pendula'

Another member of the Cupressaceae family is Juniperus, and rigida 'Pendula' is a graceful tree-size selection. The rigida species is native to Japan, Korea and northern China. It was introduced by J.G. Veitch in 1861 and first described by Siebold and Zuccarini, two German botanists. I have never seen the straight species anywhere, but in The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2014) it is described as “elegant” and with “gracefully drooping branchlets.” “A lovely species.” That's how I would describe J. r. 'Pendula', so I wonder to what degree 'Pendula' is a cultivar, and in fact Hillier doesn't list any cultivars of rigida. I asked Seth if he knew where we had Juniper rigida 'Pendula' growing and he didn't know. Office manager Eric doesn't know either, and no one else at the nursery knows since we don't propagate it anymore. I am the only one who knows and I told Seth it is “ten steps away from where you park every day.” A hedge was planted about 30 years ago between my nursery and the neighbors...and maybe it's not so “lovely” if nobody has noticed it or has ever wondered about it.

Lagarostrobus franklinii 'Pendula'

Similar to Juniperus rigida where 'Pendula' might just be describing the species – and not really a cultivar – the same could be true for Lagarostrobus franklinii 'Pendula'. Hillier also calls the species “graceful” with “slender, drooping branches.” It is commonly known as the “Huon pine” and is native to Tasmania and Australia, but it is not common in America because it is only hardy to about 10-15 degrees F. When I first grew Lagarostrobus it was originally included in the Dacrydium genus (Hooker), but the two never seemed to be all that closely related. Later I was visiting an English arboretum (somewhere) and I saw that it had been renamed, and to no surprise, except that both genera are in the Podocarpaceae family. (I would have guessed that Lagarostrobus would be a member of the Cupressaceae family, but I guess that's why I'll never be a botanist).

Picea glauca 'Pendula'

While we can question if some 'Pendula' cultivars are really valid, Picea glauca 'Pendula' certainly is. According to the Iseli Nursery website, the cultivar was “rediscovered” in 1982 at the Morton Arboretum (Chicago) where a specimen had grown since 1958, and that tree came from D. Hill Nursery, propagated from a tree in a native stand near Guelph, Ontario. There could be more than one “pendula” however, for the American Conifer Society claims, “This cultivar originated as a spontaneous weeping mutation found in the 1860's in Trianon Park, Versailles, France. French botanist Elie-Abel Carriere formally described it in botanical literature in 1867 in Traite General des Coniferes.” Indeed, at the beginning of my career I had two different forms named Picea glauca 'Pendula', and I eventually ditched the one that wasn't so narrow.

Pseudotsuga menziesii 'Pendula'

Pseudotsuga menziesii 'Toledo Weeper'

Pseudotsuga menziesii 'Ft. Ann'

The original Pseudotsuga menziesii 'Graceful Grace'

Hillier doesn't mention a Picea glauca 'Pendula' at all, which I think is the most serious omission in the Manual. If they had included 'Pendula' it probably would have been described as Pendula Group, which is what they do for Pseudotsuga menziesii Pendula Group (without the single quotes). It/they is/are described as “An unusual form with weeping branches. C. 1868.” A “group” is absolutely correct, and I have seen forms of our “Douglas fir” that sort-of-weep, such as 'Ft. Ann', to some that do so exceedingly. Hillier does mention the singular cultivar 'Glauca Pendula' which is described as a “small weeping tree of graceful habit. C. 1891.” It originated as a seedling selected at Simon-Louis Freres Nursery in France, but the seed was probably the bluish strain from somewhere in the Rocky Mountains. My favorite of the gray-blue-green weepers is 'Graceful Grace' and the photo above is the original tree at a Masonic home in Pennsylvania. Sadly it was murdered to make way for a larger parking lot. Ouch!

Chamaecyparis lawsoniana 'Imbricata Pendula'

Chamaecyparis lawsoniana 'Imbricata Pendula' is a fantastic medium-sized tree, but sadly it is encumbered with its clinically old-fashioned name. 'Imbricata Pendula'– please! As I have preached before we propagate by grafting onto Chamaecyparis lawsoniana 'D.R.' (disease resistant rootstock) where we achieve from 90-95% each year. Hillier describes it as, “A small, loose, conical tree with thin decumbent branches and whip-like pendulous branchlets. Foliage mid-green. Raised from seed by R.E. Harrison in New Zealand about 1930 but not introduced until much later by D. Teese, Australia, as propagation is difficult.” Once again Hillier goes parochial* with “propagation is difficult,” and I think anyone in the British Isles with healthy rootstock and scions could accomplish the same successful results as I. Maybe rooting'Imbricata Pendula' is difficult, but I wouldn't know because why invite the root-rot disease problem by growing it on its own roots?

*Parochial is from Greek paroikia meaning “temporary residence,” from paroikos for “stranger.”

Cercidiphyllum japonicum 'Pendulum'

Cercidiphyllum japonicum 'Pendulum' will grow into a medium-sized weeping deciduous tree. You can't cram it into a small garden as it will spread more wide than tall, or at least it has for me. The genus is native to Japan and China and can grow to more than 100' in the wild even though it is considered an understory tree. The generic name comes from Greek kerkismeaning “redbud” (Cercis for “round”) and phyllonmeaning a “leaf.” “Katsura tree” is the common name, and of course we also have 'Katsura' as the cultivar name for an Acer palmatum and for a Pieris japonica. I went to my resident Japanese language expert – my wife – and asked her what was the katsuraword meaning. I should never ask her language questions when she is cooking dinner because dinner will burn, and if I ask her when we are eating dinner it will go cold. Seldom are Japanese answers quick and concise. Haruko explored the possibilities which rambled: “District name in China, old China decorative object, Chinese story that the tree is from the moon (because of round leaves?), happy special meaning, like for a girl's name – well, not a girl's name, but one of the characters of katsura is used in a girl's name, China, China, China – you know, Japan is suburb of China, everything from China, the Oleaceae family is katsura, maybe Jasmine etc.” Yeah, dinner got cold, and know that this blog is hard work. Then, Haruko tossed out the theory that katsura means “fragrant tree.” Ok, enough dear, my potatoes are cold. I like the fragranttheory, except that the Acer and Pieris cultivars have no fragrance, but the Cercidiphyllum does smell...interestingly in autumn with an odor which has been variously described as vanilla, burnt sugar and old apples.

Albizia julibrissin 'Pendula'

Botanist Antonio Durazzini first described the “Silk tree,” Albizia, when it was introduced to Europe from Iran, and he named the genus after the Italian nobleman Filippo Albizzi. It's interesting that the Italian's name contains two “z's” but the generic name only has one. The specific name is a corruption of the Persian word gul-i abrisham which means “silk flower.” It seems like every species of tree in the world contains at least one weeping form, but I had never seen nor heard of one for Albizia julibrissin until I saw a large specimen in a North Carolina nursery a few years ago. Frankly it was sprawling and unattractive, but maybe when in flower it's not so bad.

Pyrus salicifolia 'Pendula'

Another large and somewhat sprawling deciduous tree is Pyrus salicifolia 'Pendula', the weeping “willow-leaf pear.” It is fast-growing and our oldest specimen is 12' tall by 10' wide after only ten years. Last winter I moved a Magnolia out of its way because I could see the two were in for trouble. P. salicifolia is native to southern Europe and the Middle East and was introduced to horticulture in 1780. The specific epithet comes from Salix plus folia for the leaf with its shiny silver gray foliage. Pyrus is a member of the Rosaceae family and it is the old Latin name for pear. The word pear is from Germanic pera, and that perhaps of Semitic origin pirameaning “fruit.” The genus is thought to have originated in western China in the foothills of the Tian Shan mountain range, then spread north and south along mountain chains, eventually evolving to about 20 major species. China produces the most pears in the world (by far) – 18 millions of tons per year compared to 0.75 for the USA. Just so you know, pears ripen at room temperature, but they will ripen faster if placed next to bananas in a fruit bowl. That doesn't matter, though, because P. salicifolia won't yield anything good to eat, the fruits being hard and astringent.

Salix caprea 'Pendula'

Salix caprea 'Pendula' forms a neat weeping tree, and I used to grow it at the beginning of my career, but now I only have one left which grows down by the pond. The caprea species is native to Europe and western and central Asia, and besides being known as “pussy willow” it is also known as “goat willow.” Goats will eat anything, but the common name probably can be traced to Hieronymus Bosch's 1546 herbal, where the willow is being eaten by a goat.* Salix caprea is dioecious, with male and female catkins on different plants, and 'Pendula' is usually grafted atop another Salix because it is surprisingly not inclined to root for the nurseryman. The genus Salix is in the Salicaceae family and the plural of salix is salices.

*Caprea is a wild female goat.

Fagus sylvatica 'Aurea Pendula'

There are a number of cultivars of “weeping beeches,” Fagus sylvatica, the European beech in the Fagaceae family. All of the cultivars with 'Pendula' in the name were cultivated over 100 years ago, so their Latin names are valid. Newer weeping cultivars skip the Latin and were given names like 'Purple Fountain' and 'Black Swan'. 'Pendula' dates back to 1836 and I have seen enormous specimens in Europe, and like with people some have narrow shapes while others can be more broad than tall. 'Purpurea Pendula' dates back to 1865 and it forms a more dwarf, neat mound. We stopped growing it – though I love the tree – because the branches were so brittle when digging and shipping. My favorite is 'Aurea Pendula' which “originated as a sport on 'Pendula' about 1900.” (Hillier). I'm not sure why it's not more common in the trade because it's a cultivar we graft in the greatest number, and I have never had any difficulty to sell them. Members of a crop will grow at different rates and with the propensity for different shapes, but overall 'Aurea Pendula' is not too slow. Siting in the garden is an issue because in full sun (in Oregon) the leaves will scorch, but if in too much shade the leaves will appear greenish. As summer approaches the butter-yellow of spring fades a bit to green, and that's probably good when we reach our 100 degree days, which we do just about every year. I have 'Aurea Pendula' planted in a few garden locations, but the tree depicted above in our Display Garden is my favorite, my “Golden Girl.”

Ginkgo biloba 'Pendula'

I have a Ginkgo biloba 'Pendula' in the landscape above a pool, but it spreads rather than weepsand we even prune the top to keep it low and wide. Hillier lists a Pendula Group, “A remarkable form with spreading or weeping branches.” I have seen it/them in other gardens and some do indeed grow low to the ground, seemingly without any gardener's intervention. But not for me so we stopped propagating it. I've said it before: there's nothing worse than a “pendula” that doesn't weep.

Stewartia monadelpha 'Pendula'

The final tree that I'll mention came to me from Japan as Stewartia monadelpha 'Pendula', so that can't be a valid name. I wish the sender would have used its Japanese name without trying to translate for me into 'Pendula'. I was lucky to get it at all, but my young wife was quite adept at floating with old-geezer Japanese nurserymen and cajoling them into sending me some good stuff. Well, I sent them some good stuff too. My oldest specimen displays a cinnamon-orange trunk and a compact weeping habit. It flowers profusely in summer although they are small, and maybe its best time to show off is in autumn with orange-red foliage. Linnaeus named Stewartia in 1753 to honor John Stuart, 3^rd Earl of Bute, but due to a transcription error it came out as Stewartia...which sticks. S. monadelpha is a Japanese species known as Himeshara. The specific epithet is derived from Greek monosmeaning “one” and adelphos meaning “brother,” referring to the stamens being united.

Pendula is the plural of pendulum, so it's odd that it was ever used for a singular cultivar, and I'm glad that it is now outlawed by the nomenclature police. Besides, we sound like snobs when we use these old Latin names for plants.

Rosa 'Red Drift'

Roses are red my love, violets are blue...

Color is an important component of horticulture, and often we find appealing that which is not normal. Red maples outsell the green ones and blue spruces outsell the green, for example, even though nature preponders in the opposite direction. We marvel at red sunrises, not at the normal dull-white ones, and we all prefer a piercing cerulean sky over one that is gray. I'm sure that our brain agitates at different levels when we confront the various colors, and I suspect that is also true for all fauna on this earth. I am not a scientist of anything, but if I was...I would want to be an expert on how the colors in nature are able to influence our emotions, energy and well-being.

Acer rufinerve 'Erythrocladum'

One must be careful with red, whether in the garden or elsewhere, and I suppose that's because red is the color of blood and/or excitement. Red is also the color of stop, whether at a red light on the road or at the moral-stopat the temptation to enter into a red-light district. Red-Zoneequals danger, although many like to window-shop in that area. The devil is colored red, isn't he? It is believed the first word to describe the color was the Proto-Indo-European word reudh. It traveled from there to ancient Indian Sanskrit and Proto-Germanic, while in Greece the word became erythros. Acer rufinerve 'Erythrocladum' features red stems, most prominently in winter. Not only that, but the specific name rufinerve is derived from Latin rufus meaning “russet red,” and that due to the color of the hair on the leaves. Not surprisingly the common name of Acer rufinerve is “red-vein maple.”

Acer palmatum 'Ever Red'

We have two plants with the cultivar name 'Ever Red', one is an Acer palmatum and the other is a Rhododendron hybrid. The maple was a mainstay when I began my career, and you could buy a one-year graft from me for only $2.50. We grew hundreds of them every year at the beginning, but it is no longer in our production because it has been surpassed by 'Red Dragon', 'Tamuke yama' and others because they keep their red color better in hot summers. Was it a coincidence that Gregory/Vertrees in their latest, 4^th edition of Japanese Maples no longer lists 'Ever Red' because I don't grow it anymore, when it was included in the 1^st 1978 edition? Vertrees commented that it could be distinguished by the silvery pubescens on early spring leaves compared to other cultivars. Later the color disappears and the leaves are purple-red throughout spring, but it doesn't hold its red color as well as another cultivar, 'Crimson Queen' (which was relatively new at the time). Maybe not in the Vertrees garden, but I know of a dry-land (no irrigation) maple grower (Schmidt) in Oregon who finds the opposite to be true, that 'Ever Red' actually out reds 'Crimson Queen' in his fields by August.

Rhododendron 'Ever Red'

Rhododendron 'Ever Red' is a new plant that I first encountered at the 'Rhododendron Species Botanical Garden' in Washington state. It flowers with blood-red bells, and one of my grafted plants from two years ago is now blooming in the greenhouse. Generally I can get a Rhododendron to bloom more quickly from a graft than from one grown on its own roots. Anyway I consider 'Ever Red' to be more of a foliage plant versus a flowerplant because the leaves display shiny reddish-purple leaves, and are so red that the blossoms are somewhat lost in the foliage. Besides it is evergreen so you can enjoy the plant's reddish color even in winter. Rhododendron breeders have long been trying to achieve colored foliage, and the breakthrough came from Ken Cox of Glendoick Nursery in Perthshire, Scotland. The 'Ever Red' name has also been used for a Loropetalum cultivar, and who knows what else, so I would suggest that we “ever red” nothing more.

Acer palmatum 'Red Whisper'

For a species that is normally green we have a preponderance of Acer palmatum cultivars with “red” in the name. Let's see – 'Ever Red', 'Hefner's Red', 'Red Autumn Lace', 'Red Baron', 'Red Blush', 'Red Cloud', 'Red Crusader', 'Red Dragon', 'Red Emperor', 'Red Falcon', 'Red Filigree Lace', 'Red Flash', 'Red Pygmy', 'Red Saber', 'Red Sentinel', 'Red Shadow', 'Red Spider', 'Red Spray', 'Red Whisper', 'Red Wonder', 'Red Wood', 'Rhode Island Red', 'Ruth's Red', 'Select Red', 'Uncle Red', 'Wetumpka Red', 'Whitney Red', and 'Hubbs Red Willow'– and I'm guilty of naming a few of these myself. 'Red Whisper' is a Buchholz discovery, but I can't call it a Buchholz “introduction” because none have ever been sold or given away. It resembles 'Fairy Hair', but it never puts on enough growth to propagate, so like an old spinster it just sits in the corner of a greenhouse all by itself. Our website description reads: “A dwarf deciduous shrub with a stubby-branch form. Tiny hair-like spring leaves are orange-red. By summer they become bronze-orange, then orange-red in fall. Growth rate and hardiness unknown.” Actually, for growth rate it would be accurate to say, “not much.”

Acer rubrum 'Vanity'

Acer rubrum is known as the “red maple,” and it was so-named (by Linnaeus) because of its dependable red fall color. It is most noticeable in spring as well, for its red flowers appear before the leaves emerge. All winter I would drive past urban landscapes and pay no attention to dormant deciduous trees, not knowing or caring about their identity. Now, when in flower, I can see that many are Acer rubrum. I've never propagated any rubrum cultivars – with the exception of 'Vanity'– because they are produced cheaply by the thousands by large Oregon shade-tree nurseries. One nursery, which surely thought long and hard to proclaim on their catalog cover, “Trees are the Answer,” lists 14 different rubrum cultivars, not to mention their countless hybrids with rubrum. 'Vanity' is aptly named for it is a gaudy variegated selection, and it propagates easily by rooted cuttings or by grafting onto rubrum rootstock.

Acer shirasawanum 'Shira Red'

Acer shirasawanum 'Red Dawn'

Acer shirasawanum 'Ruby Red'

The Acer shirasawanum species has a few “red” cultivars, like 'Red Dawn', 'Shira Red' and 'Ruby Red', with the former two likely being hybrids with palmatum and the latter probably being a full-blooded shirasawanum. The seed on 'Shira Red' rises above the foliage while it hangs down on 'Red Dawn', otherwise the two cultivars appear about the same. I have found the shirasawanum species to be a little more winter hardy than Acer palmatum, so even if some of these three cultivars are hybrids, they are probably a little more tough than straight palmatum.

Agapetes 'Red Elf'

Agapetes 'Red Elf' is a fun plant, but I keep it in my warm house because it is hardy to only USDA zone 9 – or so say the experts. We've experienced heater failure in that house before, but my 'Red Elf' survived while other plants perished, so I question the zone 9 report. I was trekking in the eastern Himalayan foothills 25 years ago, and suddenly the trail was strewn with pretty red flowers. I supposed that the women and children from the upcoming village had decorated the path in my honor and as a sign of welcome. But no, because when I looked up I could see Agapetes hanging epiphytically from tree branches above. I'm not an Agapetes expert so I don't know the species I encountered, nor do I know the parent species of 'Red Elf', my start coming from far away in a Tasmanian nursery. For what it's worth, Far Reaches Farm in Washington state also offers 'Red Elf', and they claim that the species is hosseana. If true, then it is commonly known as the “Thai huckleberry” (Saphaolom), and yes, the berries are sweet and edible. The Agapetes name is from Greek agapetos for “beloved.”

Edgeworthia 'Red Dragon'

Edgeworthia is in the Thymelaeaceae family and it is related to daphne. It is native to the Himalaya and China and it is famous for early blooming, usually with yellow flowers that are nicely fragrant. Happily there is a cultivar known as 'Red Dragon' with orange-red blooms, but it is variously listed as species papyrifera and species chrysantha, with Hillier in his Manual of Trees and Shrubs going with the latter. If true, it is commonly known as the “Oriental paperbush” (Mitsumata). The bark is used for making traditional Japanese paper known as washi, and also for Japanese banknotes because the paper is durable. Confusion exists whether or not chrysanthaand papyrifera are one and the same, but if they are then chrysantha should be used as it was first used in the 1800's. It was Carl Daniel Friedrich Meissner (1800-1874), a Swiss botanist who coined the name, and the epithet honors Michael Edgeworth (1812-1881), an amateur botanist from Ireland. Chrysantha is derived from Greek chrusos for “golden” and anthosmeaning “flower.”

Enkianthus campanulatus 'Princeton Red'

We grow a number of Enkianthus campanulatus cultivars that were selected for their red flowers, and frankly there's enough of them unless you can introduce something really different. 'Miyamabeni' is one (beni = “red” in Japanese) and 'Akatsuki' is another (aka is also red in Japanese); then there's also 'Hollandia Red' and 'Princeton Red'. I don't know of a common name* for the genus, but its generic name comes from Greek enkyos meaning “pregnant” due to the bulging base of the flower and anthos meaning “flower” The specific epithet campanulatus is Latin meaning “bell-shaped.” We don't propagate Enkianthus any more due to weak sales, but nevertheless it is an excellent garden shrub with superb autumn color, and I have old specimens scattered throughout the gardens.

*The Japanese species is called “Redvein Enkianthus” due to the red striping on the flowers.

Leucadendron 'Sylvan Red'

I like to write about plants that I have seen, even though I have never grown them, and then once in awhile I'll make an attempt to acquire one. Such is the case for Leucadendron 'Sylvan Red' which I encountered at the botanic garden in Santa Cruz, California. The genus is in the Proteaceae family from South Africa, so naturally I would have to protect it in a greenhouse in winter. The hybrid of L. laureolum x L. salignum is a medium-sized shrub with dark green leaves tinged with red and red stems. The scarlet-red cone flowers appear in winter and spring since it's a southern hemisphere native, and they must make great cut flowers because I sometimes see them in the floral department at the specialty (high-priced) grocery stores. When you have a nursery full of “Plants from the Best Corners of the World” you invariably find yourself collecting non-hardy species for fun, the result of which is that you are squandering away your retirement.

Magnolia x 'Red Baron'

Magnolia x'Red Baron' is a tree that we propagate and the sales of it provide me with the money to waste on Leucadendron-type stuff. 'Red Baron' was bred by Dennis Ledvina of Wisconsin, and he is the one who gave me my start. It is blooming now in the Flora Wonder Arboretum, and it's fun to place a partially open flower in a glass vase with a small top. The blossom should float on a little water and then it will open fully. Visitors to the house are always puzzled, “Hey, how did you get that big flower into the small opening?” One reason 'Red Baron' is popular is its good red color, plus it is hardy to -20 degrees, USDA zone 5. Its parents are M. acuminata x M. 'Big Dude'. Hats off to Magnolia breeders because it takes a lot of patience to see if you have bred something worthwhile, and of course a lot of space.

Pinus densiflora

Pinus resinosa

Pines are grouped into “colors,” so we have white-pine species such as P. parviflora, black pine such as Pinus thunbergii, and red pines such as P. densiflora and P. resinosa. Basically it is the trunk color that is being described, or on older trees the upper branches. P. densiflora is well-represented in horticulture, and at the beginning of my career I sold tons of 'Tanyosho', but I don't produce many P. densiflora cultivars anymore. Pinus resinosa is a northeastern USA species with needles that look similar to Pinus nigra, the “Austrian Pine.” It is rarely encountered in horticulture because even the so-called dwarves actually get large and turn into ugly green blobs. I wouldn't mind acquiring the golden tree shown above, but the photo was taken elsewhere and I can't remember where I was.

Rosa 'Drop Dead Red'

I'm not really a rose guy although I do have a few species in the Flora Wonder Arboretum. If I want to see roses I can easily go to Portland's famous International Rose Test Garden where there are thousands of hybrids. If nothing else you can chuckle at the goofy names that roses seem to acquire, like 'Drop Dead Red'. I frequently give flowers to women, well...like my wife and two daughters now, but I have never given roses, not ever in my life. According to fossil evidence the rose is 35 million years old, with about 150 species spread throughout the Northern Hemisphere from Alaska to Mexico, as well as in Asia and northern Africa. It is thought that garden cultivation began 5,000 years ago in China. Eventually the rose came to England, and in the 15^thcentury it was a symbol of the factions fighting for control – the white rose was for York and the red was for Lancaster – and the conflict was “The War of the Roses.” I forget who came out smelling like a rose.

Pulsatilla vulgaris 'Rubra'

Pulsatilla vulgaris 'Red Clock'

We don't sell Pulsatilla, but we have a couple of red-flowered forms, 'Rubra' and 'Red Clock', and they'll be blooming soon in the garden. The specific epithet is vulgariswhich is Latin for common, and it is found throughout Europe and southwestern Asia. It is a low-growing perennial and the anemone-like flowers are open bell-shaped. It is commonly known as the Pasque flower which comes from Old French for Easter, the time it usually blooms. It has also been called “Dane's blood,” which is probably not politically correct to say today. The generic name is from Latin pulsatus meaning “beaten about,” describing the swaying flowers in the wind.

I have read that Pulsatilla cures a wide range of maladies, but I don't know of anyone who uses it. One company brags about the benefits, and the type of person who should use it:

“Weeps easily. Timid, irresolute. Fears in evening to be alone, dark, ghosts. Likes sympathy. Children like fuss and caresses. Easily discouraged. Morbid dread of the opposite sex. Religious melancholy. Given to extremes of pleasure and pain. Highly emotional. Mentally, an April day.”

Wow! I used to date a girl like that.

There, you have red my blog.

Magnolia grandiflora

Pinguicula grandiflora

The specific epithets used in botany are sometimes very obvious, like grandis for the “very large” Abies grandis, or grandiflora for “large-flowered,” as in Magnolia grandiflora. Of course “size is relative,” says my uncle, because Pinguicula grandiflora's flower is less than two inches wide-- but that's big compared to other Pinguicula species. We grow Pinguicula grandiflora in our carnivorous trough with Sarracenias and Dionaea (Venus flytrap) and they are all very interesting when you consider how they feed themselves. Pinguicula are commonly known as “butterworts,” and the genus consists of about 80 known species from North America, South America, Europe and Asia. The generic name comes from Latin pinguis for “fat” due to the sticky glistening leaves that traps small flies. The wet appearance helps to lure prey in search of water but it actually contains digestive enzymes so watch out!

Ribes sanguineum 'Pulboro Scarlet'

Cornus sanguinea 'Midwinter Fire'

Sarcodes sanguinea

Flora

There are various shades of the color red, and in the Japanese language aka and beniare two differentsanguinea or sanguineum refers to “blood-red” which is obvious when you see Ribes sanguineum in flower, as it is in our gardens at this time. Cornus sanguineum is noted for red stems in winter, but now at the end of March the fire has toned down. One of my favorite plants of all is Sarcodes sanguinea, commonly called the “snow plant” because it appears just after the snow melts. I didn't know it even existed until I stumbled upon one while hiking in the southern Oregon mountains, then later in California at the higher elevations at Yosemite. The lurid-red color is startling on the monotypic genus, surprisingly in the Ericaceae family. It is a parasitic plant, and it lacks chlorophyll and is unable to photosynthesize, deriving its nutrients from mycorrhizal fungi that are attached to the roots of trees. Sarcodes is shockingly phallic in appearance, and if you ever see one in person you'll know that the goddess Flora* has a wild side.

kinds. The specific name of

*Flora's name comes from Latin flosfor “flower.”

Cornus florida 'Unryu'

Illicium floridanum 'Halley's Comet'

Weigela florida 'Rubidor'

Alexander von Bunge

Ponce de Leon

You might assume that Linnaeus coined the specific name of Cornus florida because it is native to that state, but remember that Florida* state didn't even exist at that time. He named the species for its prolific flowering, which many consider to be America's most beautiful flowering tree. Coincidentally C. florida does occur in Florida, and actually all the way from Maine down to northern Mexico on the East Coast. A plant that was named for being native to Florida is Illicium floridanum, the “Florida anise,” or “stinking laurel.” It is a medium-sized evergreen shrub that is somewhat boring in appearance, that is until it produces its delightful flowers in May and June. Weigela florida has nothing to do with Florida state, but rather for abundant flowering. It is a shrub from northern China and was named by the Russian-German botanist Alexander von Bunge (of Pinus bungeana fame). The generic name honors Christian E. Weigel (1748-1831), a German physician and botanist.

*Florida was named by Ponce de Leon on April 2, 1513, the first European to record its location, although he assumed it to be a large island. He called it “La Florida” (flowery land) referring to the Easter season, known in Spanish as Pascua Florida.

Abies amabilis 'Spreading Star'

Pseudolarix amabilis

The specific name amabilis is used for a “beautiful” plant, as in Kolkwitzia amabilis, the “Beauty bush.” Less lovely is the generic name which honors Richard Kolkwitz, a professor of botany in Berlin. The shrub was introduced by Englishman E.H. Wilson during his initial expedition (1901) in China, so I don't know why botanist Karl Otto Robert Peter Paul Graebner (1871-1933) got to be involved in the naming of it. Plant explorer David Douglas was impressed enough with the beauty of the “Pacific silver fir” that he named it Abies amabilis. The needles of Abies grandis smells like tangerines when crushed, while A. amabilis is more like oranges – and that's one way to have fun with kids. Probably my favorite plant with the amabilis epithet is Pseudolarix amabilis, certainly more beautiful to me than the ugly larix (“larch”) genus. It was introduced into Europe by Robert Fortune in (1852) while the English cad was sent to China to steal tea plants (Camellia sinensis) and tea-harvesting techniques. The luxurious green needles of Pseudolarix give way to golden-orange in autumn, but I am most impressed with the one-year artichoke-like cones of the species. I used to offer Pseudolarix for sale but surprisingly there was limited interest in it, and now I must be content with my one specimen in the Flora Wonder Arboretum.

Abies spectabilis

Scottish botanist David Don (1799-1841) named and described a number of conifers that were introduced in his lifetime including Taxodium sempervirens (now Sequoia sempervirens), Pinus bracteata (now Abies bracteata), Pinus spectabilis (now Abies spectabilis) and others. I have seen A. spectabilis in the Himalayan foothills of Nepal, and those deformed specimens were far from “spectacular,” so maybe Don named the species for its beautiful cones. I grew it for awhile at the beginning of my career, my start coming from the wonderful Otto Solburger conifer arboretum just a half hour drive from my nursery. In the Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2014) it mentions “Unfortunately, this striking species is susceptible to spring frosts.” Before that phrase it was called a “magnificent, large tree.” Hmm...Hillier claims it is native to Nepal, India (Sikkim) and Bhutan while Rushforth in Conifers says “from Nepal west to the Hindu Kush in Afghanistan; it also occurs in the Chumbi Valley in Tibet.” So, are we talking about the same species? Anyway it never sold very well for me, probably because it is hardy to only -10 degrees. I was content to keep one last tree in my Conifer Field, but after an unusually wet spring my 20-year-old specimen turned brown when we hit the mid-90's in June.

Rhododendron maximum

Asarum maximum 'Ling Ling'

Heracleum maximum

Maxima or maximum means “largest” and the specific name for the eastern North America species Rhododendron maximum was bestowed by Linnaeus. It is a large shrub or small tree with long, narrow leaves, but it is certainly not the largest-growing Rhododendron, nor the species with the largest leaves. Asarum maximum is the “Panda Face Wild ginger,” a Chinese species that prefers a shady woodland site. The cultivar 'Ling Ling' forms a clump of large, glossy heart-shaped leaves with a subtle variegation. Another maximum is Heracleum maximum, the “common cow parsnip.” I've always considered it to be a weed, but still it is impressive growing up to 7' tall, and not surprisingly its genus name is derived from Hercules. Its flower umbels are a dull white and Native Americans would rub them on their bodies to repel flies and mosquitos.

Lindera umbellata

While Heracleum maximum is in the carrot family (Apiaceae) with its umbel-formed flowers, Lindera umbellata (in the Lauraceae family) blooms with small yellow flowers on short umbels, but they are not showy, especially when compared with those of Lindera obtusiloba. L. umbellata is native to Japan and China and it was Carl Peter Thunberg who first described it. In Oregon it performs spectacularly in autumn when the leaves turn to yellow, orange and purple, then they persist throughout winter with a light brown color that is still attractive. Known as kuromojiin Japanese, oils from the species have been shown to fight tumors, and it has long been used in Japan as a traditional medicine. The Lindera genus is known as “spicebush” because of the aromatic components in its twigs and leaves, and its name honors the Swedish botanist Johan Linder (1676-1724).

Aloe speciosa

Speciosa (“showy”) is an uninspired specific epithet but there is a large number of plants so named. Aloe speciosa is the “Tilt-head Aloe,” a single-stemmed succulent from South Africa that carries its leaf-head off to one side. The “showy” name was given by John Gilbert Baker when he described it in the 1880's, and he was referring to the beautiful reddish flowers. The aloe name is of uncertain origin, but it was used in ancient Greece and was possibly chosen for sound-resemblance to Hebrew akhalim.

Banksia speciosa

Banksia speciosa is commonly known as the “Showy Banksia,” a large shrub or small tree in the Proteaceae family. The flowers attract nectar – and insect – feeding birds, in particular the “honey eaters.” These birds, from Australia and New Guinea, do more than just eat nectar, for they are also fertilizing many plants. They are not able to hover over a flower like American hummingbirds, but instead they often feed by hanging on from beneath the flower.

Catalpa speciosa

Catalpa speciosa is the “Northern catalpa,” a large deciduous tree from a small area in the Midwest USA. Bell-shaped white flowers feature purple and yellow inner spotting, then long green seedpods develop that can be up to 2' long. The generic name comes from a North American Indian name, but due to a transcription error it should have been Catawba.

Pleione speciosa

I suppose the most showy of the “speciosas” is Pleione speciosa, a bulb which blooms purple-pink with yellow in the throat. The Pleione genus was named for the mother of the Pleiades in Greek mythology by David Don of conifer-naming fame. We are growing a fair number of Pleione cultivars now, with our starts of many coming from Canada or England, but companies in those countries are no longer shipping to the USA so we are happy to have acquired them when we did. I am not an expert on the taxonomy of Pleione (pronounced ply o nee) and even if I was there would be another expert who would disagree with my conclusions. Best to just stay dumb and just enjoy them.

Photinia villosa

Thermopsis villosa

Botanists love plant hairs so we have specific names like villosa for “softly hairy,” tomentosafor “hairy” and mollis for soft and/or hairy. Photinia villosa is a large shrub or small tree from Japan, Korean and China, and it was introduced by Phillip von Siebold in 1865. P. villosa var. laevis is another form, with laevis meaning “smooth.” Another villosa is Thermopsis, commonly called the Carolina lupine. It can reach 5' in height with erect yellow spikes. It is its seed pods which are villous with long hairs.

Populus tomentosa

Populus tomentosa is a large Chinese species with light hairs beneath the large, dark-green leaves. It is known as mao bai yang in Chinese and it is planted along streets as an ornamental, and since the Chinese love to smoke its wood is also used to produce matches. I don't smoke, but I think the species is worth growing for its interesting marked bark.

Hamamelis mollis 'Westerstede'

Hamamelis mollis 'Boskoop'

Charles Maries

The only mollis species I grow is for the Hamamelis genus which is the “Chinese witch hazel.” It forms a large shrub with slightly hairy, round green leaves. I only know of cultivars that flower yellow, but the golden autumn foliage rivals the winter blooms anyway. Give plenty of space in the garden as it can grow just as wide as tall. H. mollis was introduced into England by British plant explorer Charles Maries in 1879 and described by botanist Daniel Oliver (1830-1916). H. mollis, along with H. japonica, are the parents of H. x intermedia, a hybrid of garden origin that has resulted in many excellent cultivars.

Clematis recta 'Purpurea Select'

Rhododendron forrestii var. repens

The specific name recta is used for “upright” plants, but Clematis recta will grow along the ground if not trained to climb. The white flower is fragrant, and is especially noticeable with the cultivar 'Purpurea Select', which is unfortunately an invalid name. Repens describes plants that creep along the ground, as does Mahonia repens, compared to other species of Mahonia. Repens was commonly used as a cultivar or varietal name years ago, thus we have Rhododendron forrestii var. repens or Repens Group. The species name forrestiihonors the Scottish plant explorer George Forrest who discovered it in 1905, and then it was introduced by him in 1914. What is remarkable for the tiny creeper with small glossy-green leaves are the relatively large blood-red bell-shaped flowers. My oldest specimen went through hell when I left it in full sun in its display box when we had a few days of over 100 degrees, and it took two full years to recover from its ordeal. Protective Services probably should have taken it away from me for my neglect and never allowed me to grow it again.

Aralia elata 'Aureovariegata'

Aralia elata 'Variegata'

Elata is a specific name for “tall” and we grow Aralia elata 'Aureovariegata', a large shrub or small tree from Japan. The large pinnate green leaves are splashed with yellow and panicles of white flowers appear in late summer. Not to be confused with 'Variegata' where the green leaves are variegated with cream-white. Both cultivars are grafted onto A. elata rootstock which is known to sucker, so you don't want to plant it into an intimate garden site. Mine are growing at the backside of our pond – along with some bamboo, and I go back there only once or twice a year because of the wildness of the area. Another reason they are planted far away is because I don't really like either of them, they're not my kind of plant, and they remind me of another plant I don't grow or care for: Trachycarpus fortunei, the “Chinese windmill pond.” The variegated “angelica trees” look like women past their prime who try to compensate for it with too much makeup and flamboyant clothes. I know, probably I'll be criticized for that opinion.

Oxydendrum arboreum 'Chameleon'

Arborescens and arboreummean tree-like, from Latin for “tree” or “shaft,” and there are a lot of plant names that are “tree-like,” or at least they are...compared to other members in their generic group. Oxydendrum arboreum is an excellent garden tree and it won an Award of Merit for its flowers which appear in late summer. When I acquired my first tree I was certain that the generic name was misspelled – certainly it must be Oxydendron, but wrong. I don't know what came over Linnaeus the day he named it, but the word comes from Greek oxysmeaning “acid” and dendron for “tree.” That's only why it is commonly called “sourwood,” due to the sour taste of the leaves. If you examine the flowers in their drooping racemes they remind me of Pieris, and indeed Oxydendrum is in the Ericaceae family.

Crassula arborescens

Crassula is a genus of about 300 species of annuals, perennials and evergreen shrubs, usually with succulent leaves. They are too tender to grow in Oregon, other than as a house plant which I have done. C. arborescens is so-named because it can grow up to 10' compared to the other species which are much lower. It is commonly known as the “Silver Jade plant” or “Silver Dollar plant” due to the color and round shape of the leaves. The common “Jade plant” that people grow indoors – at least in America – is Crassula ovata, and it is nicknamed the “Friendship tree.” Both species are from South Africa.

Acanthus spinosus

Acanthus spinosus was specifically named due to the spiny foliage, and when it is not in flower you might think it's just a weed. I've had one in the garden for at least 20 years, and it has spread a little, but not aggressively. No one seems to know for certain why the common name is “bear's breeches,” but the generic name is from Greek acanthameaning “thorn;” the redundancy of the generic and specific name is because some species of Acanthus are not spiny (like A. molliswith its “soft hairs”).

Mahonia aquifolium

Aquifolium or aquifolius also refers to spiny leaves, and an example is Mahonia aquifolium. I like to quiz plant people about the aquifolium name when we are standing next to a Mahonia, and most assume that it's because of its glossy glistening foliage, as in aquatic or aquarium. But aquilais Latin for “eagle,” and the barb on the Mahonia resembles that of an eagle's beak.

This blog was prompted when I recently read one sentence in the back of Hillier's Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2014): “The study of botanical plant names is fascinating and rewarding.” And as I've said before, if you don't agree then it was the fault of my presentation rather than the subject matter. Anyway I had fun and learned a few things.

I believe in telling the truth...
Unless there's a better version.

Today's blog will not happen. It has been written and the photos chosen, but Seth has no time to put it together. Shipping plants has the entire nursery hopping and I don't want Seth to snarl at me like last year: "Do you want to make money, or do you want your damn blog published?!"

So instead we'll do a re-run of a past year's photo contest. Maybe you need a break from me too.

Rosa 'Love & Peace'

Acer palmatum 'Yellow Threads'

Camellia japonica 'Kujaku tsubaki'

Darmera peltata

Acer palmatum 'Ariadne'

Podophyllum 'Galaxy'

Acer shirasawanum 'Bronze Age'

Rhododendron faithiae

Abies firma 'Nana Horizontalis'

Acer pictum 'Usu gumo'

Helleborus hybridus '#106'

Magnolia denudata

Acer macrophyllum 'Mocha Rose'

Pinus koraiensis 'Jack Korbit'

Acer palmatum 'Mikawa nishiki'

Sciadopitys verticillata

Acer palmatum 'Mayday'

Cornus florida 'Unryu'

Acer forrestii

Agapetes lacei

Acer palmatum 'Rainbow'

Fagus sylvatica

Acer palmatum 'Peve Multicolor'

Magnolia 'Yellow Bird'

Disanthus cercidifolius 'Ena nishiki'

Acer macrophyllum 'Mieke'

Cathaya argyrophylla

Acer palmatum 'Strawberry Spring'

Catalpa bignonioides 'Aurea'

Gaultheria pseudonotabilis

Acer pauciflorum

Pseudotsuga sinensis

Acer circinatum 'Monroe'

Magnolia 'Eric Savill'

Acer palmatum 'Hama otome'

Embothrium coccineum 'Inca Flame'

Arbutus menziesii

Acer palmatum 'Spring Plum'

Cornus alternifolia 'Golden Shadows'

Abies concolor 'Wintergold'

Androsace sempervivoides 'Susan Joan'

Acer palmatum 'Green Tea'

Ginkgo biloba 'Snow Cloud'

Sassafras tsumu

Arisaema sikokianum

Pinus thunbergii

Epimedium grandiflorum var. higoense 'Bandit'

Acer japonicum 'Taki no gawa'

Rhododendron griffithianum

Agapetes 'Red Elf'

Cunninghamia lanceolata 'Glauca'

Paeonia mlotskewitchii

Acer palmatum 'Jubilee'

Rhododendron thomsonii

Wollemia nobilis

Abies concolor 'Candicans'

Cornus controversa 'June Snow'

Rhododendron falconeri ssp. eximium

Magnolia 'Vulcan'

Once again Buchholz Nursery is swamped with shipping, and Seth has no time to process the new blog. Therefore we'll repeat a blog from December 21st, 2012 which was largely photographs.

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

In Scandinavia winter is considered to begin on October 14 and ends on the last day of February. I spent one Christmas in hot Lima, Peru, walking the streets and sweating, occasionally stopping at cafes to imbibe Inca Cola. For plant people in the Northern Hemisphere "winter" has a different definition than any scientific explanation. For us, winter is the time when our plants can be damaged or die. In Oregon that is usually from November 15 to the end of February, but disasters can occur at any time of course.

So here we are…at the winter solstice, which is as low as one can get. It's dark when I go to work, and dark when I come home. We had a little snow earlier, but now it is wind and rain. The usual puddles will stay filled for months, and bark in my landscape floats down the hill. Woe, woe is me.

Today I will offer you a little pep-up blog. I saw a lot of wonderful plants in 2012, and we'll celebrate their flowers, the prettiest part. The word "flower" is from Middle English flour, that from Anglo-French flur or flaur, and that from Latin flor. Flora was the Roman goddess of plants.

Most photographs were taken at Flora Wonder, but I also visited other gardens in Oregon, Washington and California. I won't describe these flowers, because frankly I don't know much about peonies, roses and proteas. But anyway, the flowers can speak for themselves.

Aloe arborescens

Banksia coccinea

Bletilla striata 'Alba'

Clematis 'Serafina'

Clematis 'Sport of Belle Nantaise'

Cornus kousa 'Heart Throb'

Cyclamen coum 'Something Magic'

Daphne burkwoodii 'Brigg's Moonlight'

Fritillaria pudica

Grevillea 'Moonlight'

Grevillea alpina

Helianthus annuus

Helleborus 'Peppermint Ice Strain'

Iris douglasiana

Kniphofia thompsonii 'Triploid Form'

Lagerstroemia 'Pink Velour'

Lamium orvala

Leptospermum Scoparium 'Kiwi'

Leucadendron 'Safari Sunshine'

Leucadendron coniferum

Leucadendron salignum 'Winter Red'

Leucospermum 'Veld Fire'

Leucospermum cordifolium

Lilium 'Loreto'

Lilium 'White Henryi'

Lomatium columbianum

Lupinus 'New Generation'

Magnolia 'Golden Gala'

Magnolia 'Red Baron'

Magnolia 'Vulcan'

Melianthus major

Nepenthes species

Paeonia 'Red Charm'

Paeonia lutea

Pieris japonica 'Shojo'

Pleione 'Versailles'

Protea neriifolia

Regelia ciliata

Rhododendron 'Alexis'

Rhododendron daphnoides

Rhododendron macrosepalum 'Linearifolium'

Rhododendron orbiculare 'Edinburgh'

Rhododendron 'Taurus'

Ribes sanguineum 'Brocklebankii'

Rosa 'Lemon Chiffon'

Rosa moyesii 'Regalia'

Sarracenia species

Sedum kamtschaticum 'Weihenstephaner Gold'

Sinocalycanthus raulstonii 'Hartlage Wine'

Stachyurus chinensis 'Magpie'

Tulipa bakeri 'Lilac Wonder'

Tulipa species

Watsonia species

Well, there you are. I know that I feel better. I probably won't go to bonfires or attend parties this winter, as long as I have memories of this past year's floral extravaganza. And the best part: the world did not end today.

Dear Blog Reader,

Sorry, again a Flora Wonder rerun because of our hectic shipping, and Seth's brain is already fully engaged with no time to produce a new blog. Five years ago, in early May, I was goofing off in southern California and experienced the Riverside Treasures.

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

I jolted awake at 3 AM, a most groggy hour, and the stabbing ping ping ping of the alarm pissed me thoroughly. What the what?, I wondered...until I sharpened enough to remember that I was booked on an early flight from PDX (Portland) to Los Angeles, and I needed to pick up my travel-companion, Plantsman Hatch, also known as my "Grandfather." Our purpose was to visit botanic gardens and art museums; and if possible, to snoop around garden centers and try to determine why they weren't buying from me.

From our flight we quickly disembarked, then secured a white Dodge Avenger...and sped to our first destination, the University of California @ Riverside Arboretum. I drove the car while Hatch navigated, a strategy that usually works, but this time grandfather faltered and we found ourselves going in circles. Eventually we entered the heart of the campus and Hatch groaned in dismay. I rather enjoyed our predicament, as the coeds were on display, and whether Black, Asian, Latina or Blondes, they all looked fantastic in their SoCal attire. Who needed to hurry to the Arboretum to see plant specimens when we were in the thick of corporal treasures?

We eventually found our way to the Arboretum, which proved to be a second-tier collection with obvious budget constraints; but even institutions such as this can also be filled with spectacular floral encounters, as you will see. To be a prosperous plant here is more of a struggle than in Oregon, unless you're a rose or cactus or Eucalyptus. For my product line the climate is too hot, the soil PH is highly horrible and there's never enough water. The retail nurseries in LA feature a lot of gaudy annuals, water-wise succulents and xerophytic shrubs, but they hardly ever want to venture into my world of maples, conifers and "everything else," which could do well if the gardener is experienced and knowledgeable. I learned last fall that Japanese maples are quite the rage in Dallas, Texas, and there is a far more brutal environment than here in Los Angeles.

Acer macrophyllum in Oregon

Acer macrophyllum at UCR

Calocedrus decurrens

The native range of Acer macrophyllum extends to nearly the length of California, but they look different than Oregon's. First, the leaves are only half the size, and as you can see from the photo above, the seeds are red and the nutlets are more hairy. But of course their stature is reduced in rocky dry soil. There was a Calocedrus decurrens in the garden as well, and while its trunk was attractive, the foliage looked dull and it clearly was not thriving.

I had the good fortune to have known Dick van Hoey Smith, the late owner of the Arboretum Trompenburg in Rotterdam, perhaps my favorite garden in all of Europe. He treated me with great respect, even when I was young and wet behind the plant ears. His interest in, and encouragement of me, helped to validate my career and what I was all about with plants. At Trompenburg he would tell the complete story about the entire collection and each and every tree within. A day with him was pleasantly exhausting, and I probably should have secretly carried a tape recorder. After one particularly long day with the "woodies," he led me into another fantastic world, into his cactus collection. Previously unknown to me, Dick harbored a world-class cactus collection, for he was an expert in that too! I use this revelation as preface to the reality that I'm only half a plantsman, or less, compared to van Hoey Smith. Likewise, when I visit a SoCal arboretum I'm really just a dumb visitor. UC Riverside was essentially a prelude to all of the gardens which we visited, where I was very far out of my element.

Aloe bainesii

Take the Aloe genus, for example. Most of the world's species are not hardy in Oregon, though a few are, but that's why I came to California: to see what cannot be seen in Oregon. South Africa's Aloe bainesii was a large wild-looking tree, but I loved the trunk, and as my regular readers know, I am definitely a "trunk man," no matter the plant family. Aloe bainesii is known as the "Tree Aloe," and also known scientifically as Aloe barberae. The latter name is perhaps more appropriate, as its name takes precedence according to the International Code of Botanical Nomenclature -- oooh, aaah – and honors Mary Elizabeth Barber, a collector who first sent plants to England's Kew Gardens in 1874. About the same time Thomas Baines also sent a plant to Kew. I encourage you to google Baines, who appears as a Neanderthal with a most prodigious beard. But he was a traveler and explorer who loved African wildlife and skillfully painted the plants, animals and scenery. Baines lived a storied life, but alas the intrepid explorer died of dysentery in 1875, at the relatively young age of 53.

Aloe dichotoma

Aloe dichotoma had an even more impressive trunk, for the exfoliating cinnamon-colored bark exhibited a honey glow. This Aloe is known as the "Quiver tree," and the name is due to the native San Tribe (Bushmen) who used the hollowed-out branches as quivers for their poisonous arrows. It too is native to South Africa, where it is unfortunately rare and endangered. The species name, dichotoma, refers to its forked branches, as the name is Latin for "forked." Bright yellow flowers emerge in mid-winter, but we were far too late for that.

Aloe marlothii

Aloe pluridens

Aloe speciosa

Other Aloes included marlothii, pluridens, and speciosa. Aloe marlothii is the "Mountain Aloe," and varies throughout southern Africa to include the intermediate form, Aloe spectabilis. It results in natural hybrids with at least thirty other species. Egads, how do you keep botanical track of it then? Aloe speciosa displays blue-green leaves with pinkish-red leaf margins. The species name speciosa means "showy" in Latin, and refers to the impressive deep-red flower buds, with green and white stripes. Aloe pluridens is the "French Aloe," and it features reddish-green recurved leaves with sap smelling of rhubarb. The species name comes from Latin pluri, meaning "many," and dens, meaning "teeth," due to the toothed leaf margins. Uh-oh, I think I could really get drawn into this South African floral world.

Echinocactus grusonii

Echinocereus cinerascens var. ehrenbergii

Cynara cardunculus

What is the difference between an Echinocactus and an Echinocereus? Echino is ultimately derived from Greek echinos, referring to "hedgehog" or "sea urchin," and has come to mean "prickly" or "spiny" on plants. Cactus is derived from Greek kaktos, and was used by Linnaeus to lump succulent plants with spines. The Greek kaktos was originally used to describe the "cardoon" plant, Cynara cardunculus, also known as the "artichoke thistle" because of its spiny leaves. Echinocereus is a plant name for a spiny succulent with an elongated body. None of this is important if you're like me, just a casual observer of this large group, but many people can instantly recognize and appreciate Echinocactus grusonii, the "Golden Barrel Cactus," and some men refer to it as the "mother-in-law's cushion." Ha.

Ferocactus pilosus

Ferocactus gracilis ssp. coloratus

Ferocactus are usually barrel-shaped as well, with the prefix fero coming from Italian for "ferocious" or fierce, due to the spines. The species pilosus is known as the "Mexican Fire Barrel" for obvious reason. Ferocactus gracilis also displays red spines, and the subspecies coloratus does not mean that it is native to Colorado state (but Baja, California rather), for coloratus is Latin for "colored." As you can see, there is some order to botanical nomenclature, but I really wished I had a guidebook or an expert with me at the time of my visit.

Agave parryi

Agave lechuguilla

Just about every botanic collection in California will have one or more specimens of Agave parryi, the "Blue Mescal Agave." And why not? – the plant is compact, requires little maintenance, and doesn't need much water. The leaves are bright blue, about 12" long and end in a sharp black barb. It's difficult to stare at it in the Californian sunshine however, as one can become mesmerized with the foliage patterns, or at least I do. Agave lechuguilla was also present, and it comes from the Chihuahuan Desert. Its leaves are longer and more narrow than parryi, and quite pointed to boot, and it is amusingly called a "shin dagger." I've never tasted the juice of lechuguilla, but it is supposedly rich in minerals and is used in Mexico as a sports drink.

Echium wildprettii

Visitors to UCR can't miss a "wow" plant when in bloom, Echium wildprettii, a Canary Island biennial whose flower spike can shoot up to ten feet. This is commonly called the "Tower of Jewels" for its pinkish-orange blossoms which were ahum with bees. Can you find Waldo the Bee in the photo above?

Equisetum hyemale

Near to the Echium was Equisetum hyemale, known in South Africa as "Snake Grass." In America we call this genus "horsetail" while in England it is known as mare's tail. It thrives in swamps and stream banks in the wild, and I'm sure it would spread enthusiastically at Buchholz Nursery should I lose my senses and plant one. It is also known as the "souring rush," and is used in Japan as a polishing material, like fine sandpaper. Not only can you clean pots and pans with it, but the Japanese shape the reeds of clarinets and saxophones with this horsetail. The botanic name is derived from Latin equus for "horse" and Latin seta for "bristle."

Euphorbia resinifera

There was an enormous patch of Euphorbia resinifera growing on a bank. This "Resin Spurge" is native to Morocco and grows on the slopes of the Atlas Mountains. The succulent stems stand erect, and the specimen looked to me like a cactus, complete with short, but vicious, spines. Without the plant label I wouldn't have had a clue that it was a Euphorbia. By the way, the genus name refers to Euphorbus, the physician of King Juba II of Numidia, and indeed, the plant is one of the oldest documented medicinals, and the extracted latex is called Euphorbium.

Kalanchoe thyrsiflora

The morning sun played well off of the leaves of the South African Kalanchoe thyrsiflora, a species commonly called "Paddle Plant" or "Desert Cabbage." The species name is from French thyrsus, and refers to the panicle-like flower cluster. Even kids can easily grow Kalanchoe – I used to – on the window sill in pots, but whatever happened to mine anyway?

Unknown Tree

I photographed a wild-looking tree with an attractive trunk. The nearby label said Malephora luteola, and I was anxious to return home to find out more about the tree. I discovered, however, that the label was placed at the base to identify the creeping succulent underneath, so I never learned the tree's identity. Help, anyone? That situation gives me pause, and I wonder what other boners I may have committed in this blog. I've made mistakes before with maples and conifers, the plants of my career. As usual, I always stand to be corrected, because before we're out of California, I will have milked the trip into a few more blogs.

I'll finish with photos only of some more plants that I encountered, and hopefully their identities will be correct. The good news is that upon exiting, we were temporarily lost again on campus, but fortunately the coeds were easy to identify, and all flowering parts were quite obvious.

Arctostaphylos glandulosa

Cyperus papyrus

Fouquieria splendens

Gardenia thunbergia

Gasteria batesiana

Ochna serrulata

Philadelphus virginalis 'Natchez'

Platanus racemosa

Punica granatum

Quercus agrifolia

Rosa 'Cherry Parfait'

Rosa 'Midas Touch'

Yucca whipplei ssp. eremica

Washingtonia filifera

Dear Reader,

The following blog was written over a month ago but a frenzy of nursery activities kept Seth from producing it. Let's get into the time machine and go back to the appropriate time when the plants were behaving as described.

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

I have plenty to complain about...but I won't. Instead I enjoyed our 65 degree, dry day with puffy clouds and singing birds. The plants are sexually expressing themselves, and I guess I have to admit to being a voyeur to their lust. Everything attempts to replicate itself, and there's a million different ways that it happens. Heck – we just finished a winter of grafting thousands of trees, a process that the Europeans refer to as copulation, and now we have an abundance of offspring to raise.

Rhododendron orbiculare 'Exbury'

Rhododendron x 'Winsome'

Many of our one-gallon pots of Rhododendron are blooming in the greenhouse now. R. orbiculare flowers are gorgeous for a day or two, but then we cut them off so all the energy will go to the plant. One must be careful to not damage the growth buds, so I gave the project to my trusted Juana. She looked at me with sorrowful eyes, like I was a cold, heartless brute who didn't appreciate the beautiful flowers. There was one small group of plants with a strange red flower. My brain didn't serve me as to its identity, so I bent over th check the label. Ah, of course: R. 'Winsome'. Yep, we cut them off too. The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs states that 'Winsome' is a cross of R. griersonianum and R. Humming Bird Group, and that it occurred in 1939 and won an Award of Merit in 1950. I had never heard of a Humming Bird Group, so I looked it up to find that it's R. haematodes* xR. williamsianum, and that helps to explain the strange color of 'Winsome'.

*haematodes means "blood-red."

Chianodoxa forbesii

Chionodoxa forbesii

There is an attractive rock near the office where I park my car every day. All winter the ground was bare near the rock, then one day the Chionodoxa forbesii flowers appeared, as if they require no time to develop. It is commonly known as "Glory of the Snow,"* and indeed we had a few fat flakes of snow on the day I found them blooming. The bulb requires no maintenance and it is hardy to -40 degrees, USDA zone 3. It is native to western Turkey and surprisingly is in the Asparagaceae family. Office manager Eric bought the bulbs cheaply at the chain grocery store during their half-price fall bulb sale, and they have popped up and are beginning to naturalize in various garden locations. Good clean fun, if you ask me.

*The genus name is from Greek chion for "snow" and doxa for "glory." The specific epithet honors James Forbes (1773-1861), a British botanist.

Camellia 'Elina Cascade'

I recently purchased a plant of the patented Camellia 'Elina Cascade' from the Rhododendron Species Botanic Garden in Washington state. I was pleased to acquire it after seeing their weeping specimen a few years ago. One company (Camellia Forest) lists it as a C. japonica while the USA patent office describes it as C. tsaii var. synaptica, and I, not being a Camelia (or Camellia) guy, don't know the difference, but damn that it is patented. The species – unlike the 'Elina Cascade'– is an upright evergreen plant widespread throughout China's Yunnan and Hunan Provinces, and also in Burma and North Vietnam. It is variously listed as hardy to USDA zone 7 (ok in Oregon) or to zone 8 (yikes!). I will probably keep my plant in the greenhouse, and after I propagate a few – yes, illegal – then I will plant one outside. I promise that I won't grow them for sale, so just leave me alone. 'Elina Cascade' is cute, very cute, with tiny white flowers with pink bases, and combining that with a weeping habit makes it very unusual.

Mr. Shibamichi

My wife, Haruko, and I both met the "Godfather of Japanese Horticulture"– Akira Shibamichi – and he has visited my nursery and took an instant liking to Haruko, and because of that he has sent to me many wonderful plants. Anyway he is the nurseryman who discovered and named 'Elina Cascade'. I asked Haruko what is the meaning of "Elina," was it perhaps a Japanese woman's name? In any case I like the sound of it. Haruko said – "No, it's not a Japanese word or name." Well, my research reveals that Shibamichi named the plant after his daughter, so she's a woman I would love to meet. I have further learned that Elina is Greek for "sun ray"– could Shibamichi* be an aficionado of Classical Greek?! – and that Elina is an alternate form of Elena, an Italian and Spanish respelling of Helen. What great fun it is to be a plant detective!

*Haruko reports that Shibamichi is a very interesting man, that he is famous in Bhutan – a country I visited 25 years ago – and that Mr. S. has been there many times...and considers it his "second home."

Bergenia 'Angel Kiss'

Bergenia 'Pink Dragonfly'

The Bergenias are blooming inside of the greenhouse. 'Angel Kiss' flowers are snow white, then there are a number of other cultivars with pink blossoms, and like with maples there are probably too many names for almost the same thing. Our starts are produced via tissue culture, and the breeder/purveyor doesn't clue you in on what is the species or parents of the hybrids. His attitude is that you get numerous, large flowers on attractive foliage so don't worry about specific details. Bergenia is a genus of about 10 species that are native to central Asia and the Himalaya. I have seen them growing at about 10,000', clinging to drippy cliffs, but I never knew the species. Bergenia is in the Saxifragaceae family and was named for Karl A. von Bergen, a German physician and botanist.

Magnolia kobus var. stellata 'Royal Star'

Magnolia kobus var. stellata 'Jane Platt'

The Magnolias are flamboyant this month. The "Star magnolias" (M. kobus var. stellata) have been blooming for three weeks, while some of the other specific hybrids – like 'Vulcan' and 'Manchu Fan'– are just beginning to open. At the beginning of my career I would use the name Magnolia stellata'Royal Star' or 'Jane Platt', then some "authority" convinced me that the proper name was M. kobus var. stellata, so I changed all my labels. Now I read that Hillier and also Gardiner in Magnolias – A Gardener's Guide consider kobus and stellata to be two separate species, so I wasted my time changing the labels. We used to root the M. stellata cultivars – they weren't so difficult – but now the only cultivar that we currently grow is 'Jane Platt', and it is propagated by grafting onto M. kobus rootstock.

'Jane Platt' was "discovered" by plantsman Roger Gossler of Springfield, Oregon, growing in Jane Platt's Portland, Oregon garden as 'Rosea'. Gossler was convinced that no other "rosea" displayed equal deep-pink flowers. Gossler relates in The Gossler Guide to the Best Hardy Shrubs(2009) that he saw Platt's tree in the 1970's, received cuttings and grew it for some years. Then he asked Mrs. Platt what she would like it to be named. Very uncharacteristically, she said, "How about 'Jane Platt'? When it was exhibited at the Royal Horticultural Society, it received an Award of Merit, a thrill to Mr. Platt and our family." By then Mrs. Platt had passed away so she never knew about the AM...unless she still gardens somewhere up in the sky.

Acer japonicum 'Aconitifolium'

Acer japonicum 'Ao jutan'

Acer japonicum 'Giant Moon'

Acer japonicum 'Orange Fan'

Maple leaves are usually larger when grown in containers in the greenhouse, versus the same cultivar growing out in the garden, and so too with the flowers. The Acer japonicum blossoms are my favorite of those Acer species in the Palmata Section. Deep red flowers with yellow anthers is a nice color combination, and they dangle beneath the fresh, newly emerging leaves. I have a couple dozen cultivars of A. japonicum in the collection, although we don't propagate all of them. They are uniformly spectacular with autumn color, but that's apparently not enough for customers to purchase them in the spring. The first cultivar I acquired was 'Aconitifolium'– a horrible name, and so is its synonym, 'Laciniatum'– which was introduced about 1888. So much better is its Japanese name, 'Maiku jaku', which means "dancing peacock." I have introduced a few A. japonicum cultivars: 'Ao jutan' ("green weeping" in Japanese) which was discovered by the late Edsal Wood of Oregon, 'Giant Moon' with enormous green leaves and 'Orange Fan' which features copper-orange coloration in spring. Still, the cultivar that continues to sell the best is the old tried-and-true 'Aconitifolium'.

Arctostaphylos nevadensis 'Cascade'

Arctostaphylos nevadensis 'Ponchito'

Two cultivars of Arctostaphylos nevadensis, 'Ponchito' and 'Cascade', have been blooming for some time now. The small nodding urn-shaped flowers are all you need to know that the genus is in the Ericaceae family, but don't automatically assume that the nevadensis species is native to the state of Nevada. Rosa nevadensis, for example, comes from Spain, and there is also a mountain range named "Sierra Nevada," which is Spanish for "snow-capped." Our Arctostaphylos is from Nevada state and California after all, and it is commonly known as the "Pinemat manzanita." I planted both cultivars in the rock garden section at the nursery, a large area of about two acres. They are both prostrate and I thought they would be cute tumbling between the rocks down the hillside. That was 25 years ago, and the behemoths took hold and they are now consuming the rocks, covering them up with great gusto. Another gardening mistake. My rocks are beautiful gray granite pieces, but what's the use if they are covered in green? If we have time this winter maybe my young energetic crew can tackle the groundcover, but that will take a lot of work, a bear-sized burden. The genus name is from Greek arctosmeaning "bear" and staphyle meaning "grapes" in reference to bears eating the red fruits, hence another common name of "bearberry."

Ilex x 'Rock Garden'

Ilex x'Rock Garden'

I noticed a specimen of Ilex x'Rock Garden' was flowering, but the blossoms are very small and dull green-white in color, so they are considered "insignificant" in botanical literature. Most Ilex are dioecious – with separate male and female plants – so a male pollinator is required to produce fruit on this female plant. x'Rock Garden is a miniature (non-profitable) evergreen holly and it never berries heavily. Still, they are cute on the bush in winter...until the birds finally consume them. x'Rock Garden' is a complicated hybrid of I. aquipernyi – itself a hybrid between I. aquifolium and I. pernyi – and I. integra, native to China, Japan and Korea. It is the most dwarf of the spiny-leaved evergreen hollies, maybe to 2' tall by 3' wide in 20 years; no, make that 30 years.

Androsace sempervivoides 'Susan Joan'

A trough near the office door contains the delightful Androsace sempervivoides 'Susan Joan', and it has been flowering for the past couple of weeks. The genus is in the Primulaceae family and it originated in the Himalaya. The 100-or-so species have now spread throughout Asian and European mountain systems such as the Caucasus, Alps and Pyrenees. The genus name Androsace is from Greek androsakes which is a sea plant (probably a species of Acetabularia). 'Susan Joan' was selected for the relatively large lilac-pink flowers with red centers that evolve with age to yellow, and it received the RHS's Award of Garden Merit. I don't know anything about Ms. Susan Joan, but I hope she is/was as attractive as the plant that bears her name.

Erysimum pulchellum

Also flowering in a trough is Erysimum pulchellum, another wonderful addition to our "alpine plant" program. This dense cushion of a plant with happy yellow blossoms is native to the limestone screes on the Uludag ("Great Mountain") of Turkey. The highest peak of this range is Kartaltepe at 8,343' and the area is famous for plants including Primula vulgaris, Crocus siberi, the yellow Crocus flavus and Doronicum orientale (leopard's bane). But be careful if botanizing here because there are a few wolf packs that roam in the forests. Erysimum is in the mustard family and the genus name is derived from Greek eryo, meaning "to draw" or "to drag," and refers to the plant's ability to produce blisters. Pulchellum or pulchellus is Latin diminutive of pulcher meaning "beautiful."

Phlox subulata 'Vivian's White Blanket'

Phlox 'Ochsen Blut'

Phlox 'Boranovice'

Phlox plants look dreadful in winter, or at least ours do, but now that the creepers are covered with flowers we are pleased that we propagate and sell a few outstanding forms. We even have introduced a miniature bun named P. subulata 'Vivian's White Blanket' which originated as a more dwarf seedling arising next to the larger-growing P. subulata 'Schneewittchen'. Office manager Eric made the discovery and he named it for his 94-year-old mother (who is still very sharp...moreso than her son). Phlox 'Ochsen Blut' and 'Boranovice' are both nice purple-pinks, while 'Appleblossom' is an aptly-named sweetheart. The origin of the name phlox is from Greek for "flame," for a plant of "glowing color."

Cornus sanguinea 'Compressa'

Cornus florida 'Autumn Gold'

Cornus controversa 'Variegata'

We have two seasons of spring at Buchholz Nursery: the first occurs now in the greenhouses, and the second about a month later outside in the real world. I patrol the greenhouses on a daily basis these days, making work lists, checking for water needs etc., but mainly I visit them because in April they are so much fun. Some of the dogwood species are in flower – except not Cornus kousa which has another month to go. But Cornus sanguinea 'Compressa', Cornus florida 'Autumn Gold' and Cornus controversa 'Variegata' are all producing flowers along with their leaves. The latter cultivar's flowers can go unnoticed because their white color can be lost in the variegated foliage. Cornus florida cultivars are grown primarily for their red, pink or white flowers – or rather for the bracts that surround the flower. Cornus sanguinea 'Compressa' blossoms only interest a plant geek like me, as they are small and dull-white. 'Compressa' sometimes displays beautiful purple foliage, but it is mainly grown for its dense compressed habit and freakishly-wrinkled leaves. Be careful of it in the garden because it can "wander," meaning that the roots can produce suckers as far as 10' away. If you dig one out of the garden it can reappear if any roots are left in the soil. Needless to say...

Abies koreana 'Green Carpet'

Abies koreana 'True Blue'

Andy Goldsworthy (Smithsonian)

Ok, let's not forget the conifers. I was inspired by a new documentary, Leaning Against the Wood, about the sculptor/artist Andy Goldsworthy, an Englishman who lives in Scotland who works with natural materials like rock, wood, flowers etc., and whose "works" are often ephemeral,* sometimes down to just a few seconds. In one instance he was filmed behind a dense 10' pine that was loaded with male flower pollen. You couldn't see Andy but suddenly he shook the pine violently and created a cloud of white dust that floated away in the air. Happy love to any female pine cones out there. I know that conifer "flowers" are not flowers in the true botanical sense, but still to me they are. Coniferous pollen is an irritant to many, but I don't suffer from hay fever so I'm happy that the boys get stimulated by the wind and drift off in search of a female to impregnate. The Abies guys are handsome, though small compared to female coniferous cones, and can be colored from yellow to red to purple. I find it fascinating that within a species, where you would think that the male flowers would all be the same color, you have red flowers for Abies koreana 'Green Carpet' and yellow for Abies koreana 'True Blue'. Both are clearly Abies koreana, or so they appear to me.

*Ephemeral means to "last a short time" or something transitory...like all of us in the grand sense of things. The word is from Greek ephemeros meaning "lasting a day," from epi and hemera for a "day.""Epi" is a prefix meaning "upon,""on,""over,""near,""at,""before" or "after." Stay tuned for the next episode.

Horticulture is fun when you get down to the sexual details, and, like living with a woman, you never know what to expect.

The origin of the word botany comes from the Greek word botane which means “grass” or “pasture.” Before plant scientists existed, the focus of botany was probably the need for herdsman to know which plants were safe for their animals to eat. Obviously, more important than that: what was safe for the herdsman and his family to eat.

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

A study was published recently in the journal, Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences and it was suggested that there could be 1 trillion species living on our planet, but that 99.999 percent remain undiscovered. To arrive at that estimate scientists combined datasets about animal, plant and microbial life from academic, government and citizen science sources. Many early estimates didn't take into account micro-organisms, and “microbial biodiversity, it appears, is greater than ever imagined,” according to study author Jay Lennon at Indiana University, Bloomington.

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

The Plant List, a collaboration between the Royal Botanic Garden, Kew and the Missouri Botanic Garden, contains 642 plant familiesand 17,020 plant genera and 350, 699 accepted species. There are over a million considered species – but not by the cognoscenti because many are fallible, such as with synonyms and other misunderstandings...but anyway, at least a third of a million accepted species – wow!

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

Part of the following paragraph is based on Gardening Know How by Bonnie L. Grant (August 6, 2014).

A study by France's National Drug Safety Agency found that 32% of French people were taking antidepressants, mood stabilizers or other psychotropic drugs. Then add on top of that a large number who use cannabis or alcohol or tobacco for more or less the same purpose, and you can conclude that the French are not a naturally happy people. Probably Americans aren't far behind either. Maybe we should all garden more, because scientists have found a positive link between soil microbes and human health. Did you know that there's a natural antidepressant in soil? Mycobacterium vaccae* is the substance under study and it has been found to mirror the effect on neurons that drugs like Prozac provide. The soil bacterium can stimulate serotonin production which makes you more relaxed and happier, and even cancer patients reported a better quality of life and less stress, all with no adverse health effects. The bacterium was tested both by injection and ingestion on rats and resulted in increased cognitive ability, lower stress and better concentration to tasks than a control group. So it's good for you to put your hands in the dirt, and all the better if you are planting a Buchholz tree, as that's what makes mehappy.

*The specific name vaccae is from the Latin word for “cow” since it was first cultured from cow dung in Austria.

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

If you live to 70 you'll have lived 25,565 days – do the math but remember there's some leap days in there. “Have a nice day,” I'm often told, but you know, 25 thousand doesn't seem like so many, especially since I have mostly spent mine, so I had better have a nice day. You'll only get 3,640 weekends so spend some more time with the family. If you feel like you have an abundance of time, your 70 years consists of 2,208,816,000 (2.2 billion) seconds, so when somebody says , “Wait a second,” you can go ahead and oblige them because you have over 2 billion left...unless you're old like me. But remember, every second is a moment that will never happen again.

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

A new book by Richard Powers – The Overstory– was recently reviewed by Barbara Kingsolver in the New York Times Book Review, April 15, 2018. Her review begins:

Trees do most of the things you do, just more slowly. They compete for their livelihoods and take care of their families, sometimes making huge sacrifices for their children. They breathe, eat and have sex. They give gifts, communicate, learn, remember and record the important events of their lives. With relatives and non-kin alike they cooperate – to name one example – with rapid response networks to alert others to a threatening intruder. They manage their resources in bank accounts, using past market trends to predict future needs. They mine and farm the land, and sometimes move their families across great distances for better opportunities. Some of this might take centuries, but for a creature with a life span of hundreds or thousands of years, time must surely have a different feel about it.

I wonder what is the tree-thought or communication when I wander into a greenhouse. Are the trees equal souls or is one the head honcho? Is there a bully in the crowd or are they all meek? Do they all pull their weight or is there a welfare portion of the population, the slackers, that the industrious trees must support? Do they appreciate my efforts to help them thrive, or do they breathe a sigh of relief when I leave? – “Good, the son of a bitch is gone!”

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

Theophrastus (371-287 BC) was a student of Aristotle, but in many respects he was his equal. Theo was a philosopher, physicist, biologist and botanist, and as the latter he systematized the botanical world with his Enquiry into Plants and On the Causes of Plants. For these accomplishments he is considered the Father of Botany. Yes, way before Linnaeus...but I do like the adage, “God created, Linnaeus organized.

Theo was motivated to study how plants could be put to various uses, and especially to identify and understand the unknown plants of the wilderness. The encyclopedic Enquiry Into Plants was originally ten books, nine which survive. The first book is concerned with plant parts; the second with plant reproduction; the third, fourth and fifth are devoted to trees and their practical applications; the sixth with shrubs and spiny plants; the seventh with herbs; the eighth with plants that produce edible seeds; and the ninth with plants that produce useful juices, resins etc. Reprints of these books are readily available but they are very, very dry.

Theo travelled throughout Greece to study plants* and he kept his own botanical garden. He was born on the island of Lesbos and later spent a few brilliant years there with Aristotle. His original name was Tyrtamus, but Aristotle nicknamed him Theophrastus which described the “grace of his divine conversation.” Aristotle in his will made him guardian of his children, left him all of his library and named him successor at the Lyceum in Athens.

Paeonia obovatum

*You will recognize some of the plants he named, such as krokos, iris, skilla, elleboros, narkissos, paeonia, aspharagos and anemone.

Theophrastus's plant assumptions weren't always correct, but I would have loved to spend a day with him, to have walked down the Lyceum path with him in our togas and sandals. It would have been fascinating to see the world through his eyes, whether or not science bears him out today. Nearly at the end of his life (85 years) he said, “We die just when we are beginning to live.”

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

Giaus villosus

A couple of hundred years ago a British scientist estimated that the weight of all spiders in Britain was greater than that of all British humans. More recently, in a report originally published in the Washington Post, experts said the weight of all food eaten by the world's entire spider population in a year is more than the combined weight of every human on the planet. Read that again slowly, because spiders theoretically could eat every human on Earth in one year. Recently, the world's oldest known spider died at age 43, a female “trapdoor arachnid” (Giaus villosus) from Australia. Sadly the creature didn't die of natural causes (say, old age), but rather succumbed to a parasitic wasp attack.

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

Coffea arabica

Cultivated coffee exists because it is meant to exist, Mesfin had said in Kombo, south of Bonga [in Ethiopia]. “Plantation trees are bred, planted and trained to produce. They are expected to do so.”

“Not so these gangly wild ancestors [referring to nature's original coffee plants]. A coffee tree is here because it won the space. More than one seed fell in the same place, and many other plants want the nutrients of the humus beneath it, the water, and those flickers of precious sunlight that pierce the overhead canopy. It exists not just to exist but to survive, Mesfin said. Or because it has survived. This is one reason why wild trees produce so little. Heavy bearing weakens a tree, and resources go into fending off diseases, pests, and beating competition – into simply surviving.”

A trio of theories explain why caffeine evolved in coffee (and other plants), and all three may be correct. The first is that the caffeine, which accumulates in the leaves, acts as a natural pesticide that repels insects and deters herbivores. Second, when the leaves fall to the ground, the caffeine leaches into the soil and contaminates it, limiting, stunting, or even killing off competing species. And third, the caffeine-laden nectar might encourage pollinators to return and spread the pollen, diversifying the species even further. Perhaps remembering the buzz, they keep coming back for more – just like people.

From Where the Wild Coffee Grows by Jeff Koehler (2017).

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

For a long time, the knock on birds was that they're stupid. Beady eyed and nut brained. Reptiles with wings. Pigeon heads. Turkeys. They fly into windows, peck at their reflections, buzz into power lines, blunder into extinction.

Our language reflects our disrespect. Something worthless or unappealing is “for the birds.” An ineffectual politician is a “lame duck.” To “lay an egg” is to flub a performance.. To be “henpecked” is to be harassed with persistent nagging. “Eating crow” is eating humble pie. The expression “bird brain,” for a stupid or foolish or scatterbrained person, entered the English language in the early 1920's because people thought of birds as mere flying, pecking automatons, with brains so small they had no capacity for thought at all.

That view is gone goose. In the past two decades or so, from fields and laboratories around the world have flowed examples of bird species capable of mental feats comparable to those found in primates. There's a kind of bird that creates colorful designs out of berries, bits of glass, and blossoms to attract females, and another that hides up to 33 thousand seeds scattered over dozens of square miles and remembers where it put them months later. There's a species that solves a classic puzzle at nearly the same pace as a five-year-old child, and one that's an expert at picking locks. There are birds that can count and do simple math, make their own tools, move to the beat of music*, comprehend basic principles of physics, remember the past, and plan for the future.

From The Genius of Birds by Jennifer Ackerman (2016).

*Indeed, at my daughter's ballet studio a sparrow sits at the open window and bops to the piano music. The girls have even taken a video of it.

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

The hippopotamus is the closest living relative to whales, but they are not the ancestors of whales. While hippos are large and aquatic, as are whales, both groups evolved from smaller non-aquatic animals, and both ancestors were terrestrial. In other words, whale ancestors originated in the ocean and then occupied land before returning to the ocean. The meaning of hippopotamusis Greek for “river horse.” The word whale is derived from Old High German hwal, and that (perhaps) from Latin squalus for a “large sea fish.”

The sperm whale has the largest brain of all living animals, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it is the most intelligent. Both whales and dolphins are cetaceans and they are known as being highly intelligent, but to rank them versus us would require complete agreement on how to define smarts.

Researchers at Michigan State University compared cetacean communication with that of primates, and found that the former is more advanced. The c's primary “sense” is the same as their primary means of communication. With primates, the primary “sense” is visual and the primary means of communication is auditory. In other words, a dolphin can convey the imageof a fish to another dolphin. If a human says “fish” to another human, both picture a fish in their minds. The cetacean skips this step and simply projects the fish image to other cetaceans. Besides, the whales-dolphins are capable of conveying and receiving 20 times the amount of information as we can with our hearing.

The limbic system in mammals is a combination of structures in the brain that deals with emotions and the formation of memories. That of the whales is so large that it is also found protruding into the cortex, and that might create a mixture of both emotional and cognitive thinking. Cetaceans with their spindle-neuron cells might be more advanced than us with the ability to recognize, remember, reason, communicate, perceive, adapt to change, problem solve and understand. The above is a summation from onegreenplanet.org.

I – for one – am pleased if humans are not the sharpest crayons in the box. Actually it's comforting, especially when you consider the incredible stupidity often displayed by mankind. The more we learn about cetaceans the better chance we have to elevate our own existence.

Maybe in the future I won't write blogs. Perhaps I can find a whale with time on his hands...er, flippers, and he/she can “project” the blog to you.

*From Latin: having contrasting colors, of different kinds, changeable.

I was making coffee the other day in the anteroom to the nursery office, and out there is a horticultural library, so for the few minutes it takes to brew a cup I'll randomly select a book or someone's old nursery catalog and try to learn something. A book I hadn't looked at in a dozen years was a Timber Press publication (2004), Variegated Trees and Shrubs, The Illustrated Encyclopedia by Ronald Houtman “in association with the Royal Boskoop Horticultural Society.” I bought it sight unseen – always a poor idea – and when it arrived I spent about 15 minutes paging through it, then closed it and put it on the shelf,* and from then until this week I haven't looked at it since.

*A book fell on my head, but I could only blame myshelf.

Euonymus fortunei 'Blondy'

It is a disappointment really. The cover jacket promises that “No book on these beautiful plants would be complete without striking color photographs.” I agree, except the photos in the publication are not striking, in fact most of them strike out. Perhaps it is cheap and arrogant of me to poke fun at a (now) 14-year-old compilation – an “encyclopedia” – on variegated plants, but really, who wouldn't yawn at mediocre-to-poor depictions of multicolored Hedera, Euonymus, Ilex, Ligustrum etc.? Even if one transports oneself back 14 years – admittedly a long time in horticulture – many of the 800 plants presented in Variegated Trees and Shrubs are ho-hum at best.

Pinus parviflora 'Tanima no yuki'

Acer palmatum 'Tsuma gaki'

One gripe about the book is that the variegated plants from Japan are not speled correctly. Pinus parviflora 'Tani Mano Uki' should be 'Tanima no yuki' and in any case only the first “T” should be capitalized, not the following non-words. Pinus parviflora 'Ogon janome' is correct, not with a capital “J.” Acer palmatum 'Tsuma gaki' is correct, not with a capital “G” etc. Acer palmatum 'Shojo-no-mai' does not capitalize the following words after the “S,” nor does 'Orido-no-nishiki' after the “O,” so why the inconsistency? Also, why the dashes in the previous two names?

Acer palmatum 'Kasagi yama'

The Acer palmatum section is particularly weak, and I'm surprised that Acer palmatum 'Kasagiyama' made it into a variegated book when it is the leaf veins that are differently colored than the remainder of the brick-red leaf. You could say, then, that just about every Japanese maple is variegated. 'Kasagi yama' is correct (two words) but worse yet is that the poor accompanying photo doesn't show the reticulation. The photo of Prunus cerasifera 'Hessei' shows absolutely no variegation, and besides it is described as a “peculiar shrub, only of interest for collectors. It looks too unhealthy for the majority of people to become a bestseller.” What's peculiar then is why 'Hessei' is even included in the book.

I could be critical with something on just about every page in the book, but what's the point? In any case I'll give the book away for free to anybody who comes and gets it – it's too heavy to ship.

Could I have done a better job? Absolutely yes. Correct nomenclature, better photographs and certainly more interesting plants. The following are some variegated maples that I would include:

Acer palmatum 'First Ghost'

Acer macrophyllum 'Mieke'

Acer palmatum 'Blonde Beauty'

Acer palmatum 'Celebration'

Acer palmatum 'Frosted Purple'

Acer palmatum 'Geisha Gone Wild'

Acer palmatum 'Grandma Ghost'

Acer palmatum 'Ikandi'

Acer palmatum 'Ilarian'

Acer palmatum 'Japanese Princess'

Acer palmatum 'Mikazuki'

Acer palmatum 'Purple Ghost'

Acer palmatum 'Rainbow'

Acer palmatum 'Sister Ghost'

Acer palmatum 'Red Blush'

Acer palmatum 'Spring Delight'

Acer palmatum 'Squitty'

Acer palmatum 'Strawberry Spring'

Acer palmatum 'Tiger Rose'

Acer sterculiaceum 'Joseph's Coat'

The above maples are all Buchholz introductions, but there are so many more that are far better than what Variegated Trees and Shrubs depicted. For example:

Acer rubrum 'Vanity'

Acer palmatum 'Filigree'

Acer palmatum 'Manyo no sato'

Acer palmatum 'Murasaki shikibu'

Acer palmatum 'Peaches & Cream'

Acer palmatum 'Sagara nishiki'

Acer palmatum 'Shigi no hoshi'

Acer buergerianum 'Tricolor'

Acer buergerianum 'Wako nishiki'

Acer crataegifolium 'Eiga nishiki'

Acer crataegifolium 'Veitchii'

Acer sieboldianum 'Kumoi nishiki'

Acer caudatifolium 'Variegata'

True, some of these maples were introduced after 2004, but at least you can see that there's a lot more fun to be had than with the limp maple photos in Variegated Trees and Shrubs.

Aesculus hippocastanum 'Variegata'

Aesculus hippocastanum 'Wisselink'

An interesting entry in the book is Aesculus hippocastanum 'Variegata' that the author claims was known before 1629. He adds, “The foliage easily burns during hot and sunny spells. Therefore 'Variegata' definitely must be protected against direct sunlight. It is a very rare tree and, due to its weak habit and susceptibility to sunburn, not recommended.” Again, why put it in the book? Obviously there exists more than one clone of the “variegated horse chestnut,” for I grow one that doesn't burn. Even more exciting than 'Variegata' is Aesculus hippocastanum 'Wisselink' which can be grown in full sun, at least in Oregon.

Chamaecyparis noot. 'Laura Aurora' at Linssen's Nursery (left) and Buchholz Nursery full sun (right)

A surprising entry is Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Laura Aurora', a Buchholz introduction named for my daughter. The book's crappy photo was taken at Linssen's Nursery in Holland, and so was mine a few years later. In shade the variegation tends to be yellow, but more white in full sun. The author compares 'Laura Aurora' with the old 'Aureovariegata' by stating that “the former's variegation is much more yellow. Although it also tends to get an open habit with age, it stays more dense. 'Laura Aurora' is recommended over 'Aureovariegata' as the foliage colors and the habit are better.” 'Aureovariegata' was known in Europe “before 1872,” but he is “recommending” 'Laura Aurora' when Linssen's little plant had been there for only two years. High praise indeed. Actually we don't propagate 'Laura Aurora' anymore because it is prone to reversion.

Chamaecyparis obtusa 'Snowkist'

The book contains only seven variegated cultivars of Chamaecyparis obtusa, and one of them is 'Snowkist' which allegedly occurred as a sport of C.o. 'Tonia' in British Columbia in 1981. The photo presented, which isn't bad, was taken by Dick Van Hoey Smith in my Display Garden, and above is the very same plant. Strangely the author states that “It is not a truly variegated plant, according to the definition followed here, but only partially variegated.” That's weird – I would consider it to be as variegated as any other plant in the book. He (Houtman) claims that “Its color is yellowish green and the young growth is variegated yellow.” That's also weird, because in the book the color is white, and I've never seen anything yellow on any of my plants.

Yuto with curled leaf of Cornus kousa 'Wolf Eyes'

Cornus kousa 'Akatsuki'

Cornus kousa 'Ohkan'

Cornus kousa 'Summer Fun'

Variegated Trees and Shrubscontains a few multicolored Cornus kousa cultivars, but judging from the photos you wouldn't want to grow some of them, such as 'Snowboy', 'Summergames' and 'Bultinck's Beauty'. Not surprisingly 'Wolf Eyes' makes the list although there are superior cultivars, and the photo shows three rows growing in full sun with severely curled leaves, certainly an advertisement against the cultivar. Better variegated performers include 'Akatsuki', 'Ohkan' and 'Summer Fun'.

Cornus kousa 'KLVW'

None of the book's C. kousa display a weeping habit, but now we have 'KLVW' (which is patented) and the awkward name spelled out is 'Kristin Lipka's Variegated Weeper', named for Mr. Lipka's daughter. Nothing wrong with honoring your daughter with a plant name, but horticulture would have been better served with just 'Kristin' for the epithet.

Fagus sylvatica 'Marmor Star'

Fagus sylvatica 'Albomarginata'

Fagus sylvatica 'Bicolor Sartini'

For me, the most interesting of the variegated plants are the cultivars of Fagus sylvatica, and the best photos are those of Jo Bömer.* I acquired 'Marmo Star' about ten years ago, but I read that it is more accurately 'Marmor Star', and it originated as a seedling from 'Marmorata' found in Berlin. I have grown 'Albovariegata' for many years only to learn that the name is “illegitimate,” that it should be 'Albomarginata' and that it was introduced about 1770. When young it can burn, but established trees can withstand Oregon's summers, and my oldest specimen looks fantastic planted in front of a dark Thuja plicata hedge. 'Bicolor Sartini' is also listed, a 1995 selection from Sartini Nursery, Piatto, Italy. Houtman stridently states, “The cultivar name 'Bicolor Sartini', which includes the Latin word bicolor, is not legitimate according to the ICNCP. Perhaps it is proper to name it just 'Sartini'.” I think that's getting carried away, and if a name like “bicolor” has become common enough – though originating in Latin – it is ok to use. After all, a shit-load of common plant words originate from Latin. I was similarly taken to task by the aforementioned Dick van Hoey Smith for naming Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Laura Aurora', because “Aurora” is Latin. Like with plants, if they have become sufficiently naturalizedover time, you get to say that they're “native.”

*From Bömer Boomkwekerij (nursery) near Zundert, Holland, the birthplace and childhood home of Vincent van Gogh.

Juniperus squamata 'Floreant'

Nothing is more ugly than variegated junipers, and the book's photos will do nothing to convince you otherwise. I did learn that J. squamata 'Floreant' originated as a sport of 'Blue Star' and was named after the Boskoop Soccer Club. At first it was published – misspelled – as 'Floriant', but the nomenclatural authorities allowed it to be corrected. We grow the cultivar in full sun and it holds up fairly well. Its appearance greatly improves, of course, when accompanied by a pretty girl.

Liquidambar styraciflua 'Silver King'

Liquidambar styraciflua 'Silver King' is a spectacular “Sweet gum” in spite of the author's crummy photo. There is enough green in the leaf to keep it from burning, while the variegated colors range from gray to silver to cream white. It is attractive in autumn as the leaves evolve to a rose hue.

Metasequoia glyptostroboides 'White Spot' at Arboretum Trompenburg

Metasequoia glyptostroboides 'Jack Frost'

The worst photo in the book was reserved for Metasequoia glyptostroboides 'White Spot', but then it is seldom seen with impressive amounts of white foliage. The exception would be a specimen at the Arboretum Trompenburg in Rotterdam. I expressed surprise at their 'White Spot's vibrancy, and Director Gert Fortgens explained that he achieved the good look by shearing the foliage. Houtman says that “It is a true collectors' item with little commercial or ornamental value,” and I suppose he's right since the typical gardener will never get around to shearing it. He then compares 'White Spot' with the old Buchholz introduction 'Jack Frost' which he recommends even less. The variegation is different, however, with the cream-white of 'Jack Frost' appearing later in the season. I should have named it 'Jill Frost' because the cultivar seems feminine to me, and I find her lovely in a subtle way.

Metasequoia glyptostroboides 'North Light'

'North Light' (AKA 'Schirrmann's Nordlicht') originated as a sport from 'White Spot' and it is far more commercial. It is somewhat variegated with light green older foliage and cream-white new growth, and it is perfectly happy in full sun. Hillier in Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2014) states that 'North Light' is “too recent an introduction to judge ultimate height.” I was the first in America to grow it, my start coming from Dutch friend Nelis Kools, and my oldest trees are dense 6' cones at about 10 years of age. But then I know how to push growth, and 'North Light' absolutely loves Oregon summers when given plenty of water.

Picea glauca 'Arneson's Blue Variegated'

A strange inclusion is the dwarf Alberta spruce, Picea glauca 'Arneson's Blue Variegated'. At its best it would always display light-blue foliage, but since it reverts back to green in patches I guess that qualifies for it to be considered “variegated?” I received my start years ago from the famous Mitsch Nursery of Aurora, Oregon, but I discontinued propagation because of its instability. Even more strange is Houtman's statement that “the variegation is highly unstable and plants easily turn into entirely blue-leaved specimens.” What? No – the opposite! – and it explains why the Germans claim that the Dutch have the windshield wipers on the inside of their cars.

Quercus cerris 'Argenteovariegata'

Variegated Trees and Shrubslists a number of variegated oaks, and perhaps my favorite is Quercus cerris 'Argenteovariegata'. I first saw it at the Arboretum Trompenburg, and no wonder for the late Dick van Hoey Smith was a world oak authority. There, however, it was labeled 'Variegata'– but same thing.

Quercus rubra 'Greg's Variegated' spring foliage (left) and autumn foliage (right)

Only one cultivar ('Vana') of the “Northern red oak,” Quercus rubra, is listed, and Houtman claims that it is “unusual in being the only recorded variegated cultivar of this species.” Well, I grow Quercus rubra 'Greg's Variegated', but maybe it wasn't around in 2004, but I take “recorded” to mean that the name appears in literature, such as in a nursery catalog for example. Or does he mean “registered” with the International Oak Society? I don't know, but my start came from Greg Williams of Kate Brook Nursery, Vermont. I didn't officially “name” it, but I had to call it something when I first gave away or sold plants of it, and the reclusive Greg is/was notorious for never returning phone calls to suggest a different name.

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

Sequoiadendron giganteum 'Frence Beauty'

A few days have passed, and upon re-reading the above I think I have been too harsh on Houtman's book. After all, I have learned some interesting facts, especially about the history of some cultivars. Maybe the photos, while not great, basically get the job done. Therefore I rescind my offer to give the book away. Also, I feel bad to have bragged that I could have produced a better book – even though I could – because, well, I haven't done so. By the way, Sequoiadendron giganteum 'Frence Beauty' is correct, not Houtman's 'French Beauty'.

Picea pungens 'Gebelle's Golden Spring'

Pinus contorta 'Taylor's Sunburst'

Hey, just a question: are plants with a spring flush that is vastly different from the older foliage considered "variegated?" I don't see why not. Picea pungens 'Gebelle's Golden Spring'– sorry about that cumbersome name – and Pinus contorta 'Taylor's Sunburst' seem entirely variegated to me. But then, the new growth on almost every plant is more bright and fresh than the older foliage. Where do we draw the line?

Actually, we don't need to draw any "line." Horticulture prospers just fine with vague cubby-holes, so just sit back and enjoy the uni-colors or multi-colors, for ultimately the gardening public chooses what it likes.

If a preferred book on variegated plants existed, it might contain some of the following:

Sciadopitys verticillata 'Mr. Happy'

Acer davidii 'Hanshu suru'

Abutilon 'Cannington Sonia'

Cercis canadensis 'Silver Cloud'

Davidia involucrata 'Aya nishiki'

Magnolia dentata 'Variegated'

Styrax japonicus 'Frosted Emerald'

Abies amabilis 'Indian Heaven'

Davidia involucrata 'Lady Sunshine'

Acanthus 'Whitewater'

Paeonia 'John Harvard'

Cyclamen coum 'Something Magic'

Cyclamen hederifolium 'Silver Cloud'

Rosa 'Cherry Parfait'

Philodendron variegated species

Camellia 'Eleanor McCown'

Camellia 'Haru no utena'

Camellia 'Ohkan'

Cercidiphyllum japonicum 'Variegated Selection'

Callicarpa japonica 'Shiji murasaki'

Athyrium nipponicum 'Pictum'

Acer macrophyllum 'Santiam Snow'

Arisaema sikokianum

Alnus glutinosa 'Razzmatazz'

Rosa 'Whistle Stop'

Rosa 'Neil Diamond'

Iris pallida 'Variegata'

Narcissus species

Coreopsis verticillata 'Moonbeam'

Gentiana acaulis 'Holzmann'

There are hundreds of plants in the Flora Wonder Arboretum that you might not know we have because they never make it onto the Buchholz Nursery sales list. For example, I have never sold a Narcissus, an Iris, a Coreopsis or a Gentiana acaulis, but they all nod to me when it is their season. The latter reminds me that he is commonly called the “stemless” or “trumpet gentian.” The European perennial is native to mountain ranges where it forms low mats at altitudes up to 9700'. I call the Gentiana a “he” because the genus name honors King Gentius of Illyria* (around 500 BC) who supposedly discovered the medicinal value of gentian roots.

*An ancient region in the western part of the Balkan Peninsula inhabited by the Illyrians.

Impatiens omeiana

Today's blog discusses these “filler” plants in the collection that add to the beauty and interest of my plant world, even though I've never made a dime from them; in fact I will admit that they have contributed to a squandering of my retirement. One such plant is Impatiens omeiana, a Chinese native from Sichuan. I grow it for the foliage mainly, not for its yellow snapdragon-like flowers, and I keep it in a pot in the greenhouse because it is rhizomatous and I don't want it to spread aggressively. The genus can be trouble for its ability to become invasive, and I know a plant collector who brought an Impatiens species back from Pakistan, and now acres in the neighboring valley are infested with it. In fact the genus name is Latin for “impatient” due to its sharp seed discharge. The specific name of omeianais because it can be found growing on Mount Emei (AKA Emei Shan).

Inula ensifolia

Inula royleana

Helen of Troy

Inula is a genus of about 90 species in the Aster family which are native to Europe, Asia and Africa. The generic name was known to the Romans and was derived from the Greek Helen of Troy, and there's even a species named helenium(which I don't grow). Supposedly this species grew where Helen's tears fell when she was snatched away by Paris. My favorite species is I. royleana which was named after the botanist John Forbes Royle (1798-1858). I first saw it in the Himalayan foothills, growing on grassy slopes at about 10,000' elevation. I have a few clumps in full sun in my backyard where they receive no supplemental irrigation, and they perform dependably to the delight of bees which pollinate the hermaphrodite flowers. Surprisingly the plant is also used as an insecticide. We also grow the smaller species ensifolia which grows to less than a foot tall and is covered with bright yellow daisies in summer. Like I. royleana, I. ensifolia is a perennial and I have a specimen over 20 years old which never fails to bloom. Its specific name was coined by Linnaeus in 1753 due to the plant's narrow sword-like leaves.

Acca sellowiana

The “Pineapple guava” is worth growing, and one can eat both the petals and fruits which have a strong aromatic flavor. The South American genus was known for years as Feijoa, so with its Portuguese-sounding name you know that it is native to Brazil. Early editions of The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs listed Feijoa, but suddenly it was changed in the 2014 edition to Acca without anyone consulting me. I like the former name, for it was given by the German botanist Ernst Berger* to honor the Portuguese naturalist Jao da Silva Feijo. The specific name sellowiana honors Freidrich Sellow, a German who first collected specimens in southern Brazil. I have seen Acca growing outside in a sheltered location in Oregon, but I keep my two evergreen trees in a heated greenhouse just in case. I grow the plant primarily for its interesting flowers, but I have eaten Acca fruit. My children never will – except for maybe when they're adults – because they can't stand strong fruit tastes like figs. Heck, they won't even eat Fig Newtons, which is a crime against childhood.

*I'll have the Ernst Berger with a dark stout, please.

Trilium grandiflorum 'Flora Pleno'

Trillium ovatum

A big show-off, Trillium grandiflorum 'Flora Pleno', has just finished blooming in our shaded, former basketball court. Double jumbo white flowers last for a couple of weeks before fading to pink. Trillium is a genus in the lily family with an erect flower stem with a whorl of three leaves, and the name is New Latin that comes from Swedish trilling for “triplet.” The specific epithet grandiflorum is obvious, while the cultivar name 'Flora Pleno' refers to the double flowers, and it is used for other plants such as Galanthus nivalis 'Flora Pleno'. Flora Pleno is a Latin term meaning “with full flower,” and in some plants all of the reproductive organs are converted to petals which makes them sexually sterile. The first documentation of this abnormality was made by my botany hero Theophrastus in his Enquiry Into Plants over 2,000 years ago. Another Trillium is T. ovatum, and it is native to my wooded slope at the south end of the nursery, but unfortunately the woods is infested with ivy, and so every year I see fewer and fewer of my beloved Trillium.

Roscoea x beesiana

Roscoea scillifolia

Our Roscoeas are in flower now and they will bloom off and on for the rest of the summer. When we get a hot spell the orchid-iris-like flowers will wither, then later it will cool and perhaps rain and new flowers will reappear. The perennial genus is in the ginger family and is native to mountainous regions of China and the Himalaya. Roscoea was named by the English botanist James Edward Smith in 1806, and he honored his friend William Roscoe, the founder of the Liverpool Botanic Garden. R. x beesiana is an interesting hybrid (R. auriculata and R. cautleyoides) that occurred in cultivation and is named for the old nursery, Bees Ltd.*, however it is not certain that Bees made or discovered the cross. The first mention of the name was in 1970 and the first botanical description was published in 2009.

*Bees Ltd. was a pioneering plant nursery founded by Arthur Bulley (1861-1942), a well known plantsman in the late 19^th and early 20^thcentury. He funded the famous plant collectors George Forrest, Reginald Farrer and Frank Kingdon Ward. There are dozens of plant species named for Bees or Bulley, such as Aconitum bulleyanum, Allium bulleyanum, Corydalis bulleyana, Berberis beesiana, Bergenia beesiana, Gentiana beesiana and Rhododendron beesianum. An excellent account of Bulley is A Pioneering Plantsman, A.K. Bulley and the Great Plant Hunters by Brenda McLean.

Alangium platanifolium

Alangium platanifolium is described on our website: A large shrub or small tree, often multi-branched, with an open canopy. Light green maple-like leaves turn yellow in fall. Yellow-white flowers in summer. Hardy to 0 degrees, USDA zone 7. It is a perfect example of a BIO plant (Botanical Interest Only), the kind of tree that I jam into the Flora Wonder Arboretum with no intention to propagate. It is native to Japan and Korea, but the generic name – alangi– is a Malayalam name because other species of Alangium are native to southeast Asia. It was named in 1783 by Jean-Baptiste Lamarck referring to Alangium salviifolium. The fossil record shows that it was once more wide-spread, even in England and North America; and my start came from the quirky, now-fossilized Heronswood Nursery in Washington state, a company that specialized in esoteric BIO plants until they went under.

Berberis darwinii

I have collected many species and hybrids of Berberis over the years, but I do not propagate most of them because I know they would never sell for me. B. darwinii is a wonderful – though large – garden species that is hardy in Oregon. For smaller gardens the 'Nana' form would be best. B. darwinii flowers early with an unusual orange-red color, and at a time when bright colors are sparse in the garden. The species was discovered by Charles Darwin in 1835 on the voyage of the Beagle and then introduced by William Lobb in 1849. You all know the Darwin story, but Lobb was famous as the first of many plant collectors sent out by the Veitch Nursery firm to acquire new species from the best corners of the world. Lobb was responsible for the commercial introduction to England of the “Monkey Puzzle tree,” Araucaria araucana, the “Giant Redwood,” Sequoiadendron giganteum, the “Santa Lucia fir,” Abies bracteata and the deciduous Rhododendron occidentale plus very much more. Unfortunately he grew erratic at the end of his career, and he died forgotten and alone at St. Mary's Hospital in San Francisco from what was recorded as “paralysis,” which was a euphemism for syphilis.

Berberis x stenophylla 'Corallina Compacta'

There are plenty of Berberis hybrids in horticulture, and one attractive garden shrub is B. xstenophylla which is the cross of B. darwinii x B. empetrifolia which was known in the 1860's. We grow the cultivar 'Corallina Compacta' which is a cute dwarf. It flowers with coral-red buds at first, but then opens with yellow blooms.

Berberis trigona 'Orange King'

Another South American species with orange flowers is B. trigona, which for most of my career was known as B. linearifolia due to its short narrow leaves. Indeed, early editions of The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs described it as linearifolia, but now in the 2014 it has been changed to trigona– trigonum is Latin for “triangle” – and again, no one notified me. It was introduced in 1927 from Argentea but it also occurs in Chile. The eye-popping cultivar 'Orange King' features larger flowers than the type, and they are an exciting sight in early spring.

Berberis jamesiana

One final Berberis that I'll mention is B. jamesiana, a medium-size shrub that can grow to at least 12' tall and wide. That hogs a lot of space in the garden but you won't be sorry when you see it adorned with dangling salmon-red berries* in autumn. It was introduced by George Forrest in 1913 from Yunnan, China, and received an Award of Merit in 1925. Again, I don't propagate any of these barberries as no one would buy them from me; I'll enjoy them myself then, as I am not on a mission to convert anyone.

*As you can see from the photos above, the berries can also be white. All photos were taken – at different times – from just one plant.

Clematis x cartmanii 'Joe'

Clematis x cartmanii is an evergreen vine from New Zealand, but for it to grow upward it must be staked because of a paucity of tendrils to cling. There are a number of cultivars such as 'Avalanche', 'Sensation', 'Michiko', 'Pixie' and 'Joe'– and I grow the latter, good ol''Joe'. You can also let it scramble, such as over a Rhododendron, for the wispy foliage shouldn't bother whatever is beneath it. The name x cartmanii honors botanist Joe Cartman who produced the hybrid from C. paniculata and C. marmoraria, and the origin of the name 'Joe' should be obvious. The word clematis is from Greek klematisfor a “climbing plant,” from klema for “twig.” I'm not really a vining gardener, and 'Joe', which is smothered with tiny white flowers in spring, is the only Clematis I have ever grown. With thorough enjoyment, however, I have visited the Rogerson Clematis Collection at Luscher Farm south of Portland, Oregon, and I can appreciate the beauty of Clematis without much effort on my part. If you have time – after this blog – go to our plantson our website, enter Clematis, and you can see what the Rogerson Collection has to offer. Remember – I have repeated it many times – the photos on our website are not necessarily of plants that we grow and offer for sale, rather they are an autobiography of the plants that I have seen.

Vitis coignetiae

Another climber is the genus Vitis in the family Vitaceae, and it is a vigorous ornamental that can be grown along walls or down banks. It produces tiny grapes, but the species coignetiae's main feature is rich purple and orange autumn foliage. It thrives in poor soils, in fact produces its best colors in such. I discovered the species in England at Harlow Carr where a white wall was devoted to it, and I rushed home to acquire one for myself. The generic name Vitis is Latin for “grape vine” and the specific name honors Mr. and Mrs. Coignet who brought back seeds from their trip to Japan in 1875. It is native to Sakhalin, Korea and Japan and is known in Korea as meoru and in Japan as yama budo. A bitter wine is made in Korea and Japan which is made potable with the addition of sugar. If you introduce it to children they will never drink alcohol again. Interestingly, wild vines can be male, female or hermaphrodite, and I confess that I haven't examined my one vine closely enough to determine its sex...but I'm hoping for the latter, just for the fun of it.

Vitis davidii

Hmm...where have I seen Vitis davidii, the “Chinese bramble grape?” I don't grow it, but I remember being impressed with its soft barbs, and I would probably waste my money if I could find one.

Tulipa bakeri 'Lilac Wonder'

Tulipa humilis 'Lilliput'

Tulipa 'Professor de Monsseri'

Tulipa puchella

Feather rock pumice planters

For a number of years we enjoyed dwarf species and hybrids of tulips (Tulipa), and they were all admirably grown in our 35,000-year-old pumice planters. These planters are geologically known as “feather rock”* and they are mined from the eastern Sierras in California. “Species” tulips prosper in many soils, but they like a dry dormant season which is what they receive in their native homes in the Mediterranean, Asia Minor and the Caucasus. It is a genus of spring-blooming perennial herbaceous bulbiferous geophytes (having bulbs as storage organs) if you want an official botanical description, but most gardeners are only aware of the large and gaudy hybrids that are offered for sale. If you seek out the dwarf species they offer a more pure charm and are perfect compliments to a rock garden. We never succeeded with these dwarves in our arboretum plantings because of over-watering – we were always trying to keep the newly-added woody plants from drying out – but the tulips absolutely prospered in our pumice planters. One day, to my horror, I discovered that every bulb had been grubbed out and eaten by the damn squirrels, though it was probably just one fat son-of-a-bitch that gorged on the lot. Adios to a hundred beautiful companions in the Flora Wonder Arboretum!

Pumice

*There is a difference between “lava rock” and “feather rock.” The latter forms during volcanic activity and is caused by the reaction of air and lava which “churns” the lava making it foamy and porous. There are many types of lava rock such as pumice, basalt, obsidian or feather rock. These rocks are called igneous rocks and have a glass-like composition. Pumice is more light than feather rock, and every plant you receive from Buchholz Nursery contains between 15-25% of pumice in the soil media. Pumice is an expensive ingredient, but do you wonder why a Buchholz plant is more vigorous, with better roots than those of our competitors – “competitors” with a very small “c?” The pumice actually absorbs and holds water, but allows space in the media for the plants' roots to seek, enlarge and thrive.

Viola 'Dancing Geisha'

Viola is a stringed-instrument of course, but it is also a genus flower name, in the family Violaceae. Most species are from the Northern Hemisphere, but some are native to the Andes and to Hawaii. We know that “roses are red, my love, violas – or violets – are blue,” but not all violets are so sweet, my love, because I have one species – I don't know its name – that is a weed with deep roots that's very tough to get rid of. On the flip-side, violets in the 1950's were used by lesbians to show their love for other women. V. odorata is used in the perfume industry and is known as “flirty” because the fragrance comes and goes. Speaking of flirty, we grow a cultivar named 'Dancing Geisha', and there is no plant more stimulating in my garden. It is a darling with tiny pale-blue flowers with petite freckles.

Viola rostrata

Viola rostrata is another cutie, an eastern North American species known as the “long-spurred violet,” and the photo above was taken in the Appalachian region when Seth and I visited three or four years ago. It's difficult to see but its spur is at least as long as its petal blades and it is colored pale lilac. There are a few other plants with a rostrata specific name, and it breaks down to rostratus (masculine), rostrata(feminine) or rostratum (neuter), a Latin adjective meaning “hooked” or “curved,” or “with a crooked point.” Besides Viola rostrata, we have Yucca rostrata, Eucalyptus rostrata, Stewartia rostrata and others.

Well enough, enough of my profitless fillers, those plants that hang around here without purpose. A good portion of my life has been without purpose too I suppose, except that I have five wonderful children to show for it. Hopefully they'll cure cancer or create world peace, or at least sing and dance for the amusement of others. Go kids!

A couple of Saturdays ago while running some errands in town I thought I would treat myself to an espresso before returning to work. Chirpy Cathy at the coffee trailer asked me where I was headed to and I replied, “Back to work.” She groaned for me at my misfortune, assuming that I wasn't going to have a happy day. I countered that it wasn't so bad because I ownedthe work, and generally I enjoy what I do. She asked what kind of company and I told her “a wholesale tree nursery.” “Awesome,” she responded, “have a great day!” Buoyed by her cute enthusiasm, I indeed went on to have a goodday, though I wouldn't rate any of it as awesome.

Interestingly, the origin of the word for “work” is closely related to that of the word “torture.” I copy from Jeremy Seabrook's Opinionin The Guardian 2013:

The etymology of all the words for “work” in European languages suggests work as coercion, certainly not for the prosperity of the worker, but as a fulfillment of human destiny. Ecclesiastes 3:22 declares: “There is nothing better than that a man should rejoice in his own works; for that is his portion...” Words indicating labour in most European languages originate in an imagery of compulsion, torment, affliction and persecution. The French word travail (and Spanish trabajo), like its English equivalent, are derived from the Latin “trepaliare” – to torture – to inflict suffering or agony. The word “peine,” meaning penalty or punishment, also is used to signify arduous labour, something accomplished with great effort, hardship and suffering...

Book of Genesis: In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread.

2 Thessalonians 3:10: This we command you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat.

Book of Proverbs: Through sloth the roof sinks in, and through indolence the house leaks.

Love not sleep, lest you come to poverty.

Like vinegar to the teeth and smoke to the eyes, so is the sluggard to those who send him. Slothfulness casts into a deep sleep and an idle person will suffer hunger.

For my entire life I have been destined to “eat the bread of anxious toil,” while my drug-addicted, welfare-assisted neighbors do the opposite. Naturally then, I have a problem with entitlement people, whether they be spoiled children, employees or neighbors, and especially for politicians who assume they know what is best for me and what sacrifices I must make. And in Oregon at least, they are soooo well-practiced at squandering taxpayer dollars while always crying out for more.

I know you didn't tune in for a government or welfare-neighbor rant, but I pay an ever-increasing amount to support failed systems, all of which are funded by the sweat of my brow. You can inscribe on my tombstone:

He was born

He was duped

And then he died.

And my tombstone will be shaped like a fist with a raised middle finger.

Young Buchholz

My travails began when I was a runt at age 7, when I entered the work force picking strawberries. The first season I wasn't very fast and I didn't make much money, but at least I could understand the correlation between effort and reward. By the second year I was twice as fast for I had awoken to the concept of a love for money. We weren't poor as a family, but I was one of five kids, and the unsaid assumption was that whatever you wanted, you had to go out and get it...by yourself. No “allowance” in the Buchholz family. I bought my school clothes, a bicycle, movie money etc. with the dough I earned from working the fields.

Strawberries only grow to one-foot high, but the fruits usually dangle at ground level. You straddled the row and bent low to pick, then alternated that with crawling on the ground next to the row. It was back-breaking torture that began when it was cold in the morning and continued until it was hot in the afternoon. Daddy-long-leg spiders danced across your neck a couple times a day, sent from the devil just to add to your torment. More affluent parents sent their spoiled kids to the fields mainly to get rid of them for the day, but the brats usually goofed off when cold or hot or tired because they had the safety net of an allowance and other indulgences. By the time I was 13 I had become the fastest picker of the lot, and my energy was driven by my love of money, plus I was obsessed with proving that no matter how hard you tried, you could never out-work me. I endured dirty clothes, painfully lumpy dirt clods and the stench of warm strawberries – to this day which I do not eat – for about ten years. You could scrub your hands for an hour with soap and hot water, but your red-stained hands would identify you as a berry picker for at least a month after the season ended.

Bitter berries for Buchholz; did the experience turn me into a miserable old man? I think not – really the opposite. My torture of crawling down the berry rows – though it ruined my back – served to humble me. At the time I was even teased for my zealous behavior, but by then I had learned to use the phrase, “fuck you.” Anyway, today I can really appreciate and relate to my good employees. Every arduous task I assign them I have done myself, so I know every day how much effort they give. They are rewarded with a paycheck and an occasional pat on the back, but never do they hear from customers and visitors, “What a wonderful place you have.”

The Flora Wonder Arboretum

In my teens I went on to pick beans, cucumbers, pears, cherries and other crops. Kids don't do that anymore, in fact we can't even find high-school kids who want to make $12 an hour doing nursery work. The world has changed and it is more soft now, and old-man Buchholz is a relic of a bygone era. Too bad. Buchholz Nursery has been good for the world – I have employed people, developed trees for the environment and paid millions in taxes. My indulgence – the Flora Wonder Arboretum – exists because of my youthful experience in the berry fields.

I remember as a young boy watching the movie The Three Stooges Meet Hercules, and pretty much I bought into the whole story. An inventor's time machine took Moe, Larry and Curly back into ancient Greece where they endured harrowing adventures. You can google the film to see a trailer, but constantly look over your shoulder to be sure nobody is watching you. I just did and I was promised that the movie is an “Entertainment of a Lafftime,” and it actually is. Anyway, I think if I could get into a time machine and go back into history, I would go back to ancient Greece and hang out with old Aristotle and his plant-wise sidekick Theophrastus. The mixture of their empirically-minded brains, combined with the culture's lucid imagination of gods, goddesses, flying horses, woodland and sea nymphs etc., all give a lively perspective on plants and their origins. Although world events existed and were recorded prior to the Greeks, the Grecian prism through which life was understood and explained is what I find absolutely fascinating.

Aglaia

The Panax genus belongs to the Araliaceae (or ivy) family, with Panax ginseng being the well-known Asian ginseng. Linnaeus coined the genus name which means “all-healing” in Greek because he was aware of its use in Chinese medicine. Panax shares the same origin as the word panacea and in Greek mythology Panakeia* (daughter of Asclepius and Epione) was a goddess of “universal remedy.” She had four sisters: Hygeia was the goddess of health, cleanliness and sanitation; Laso the goddess of recuperation from illness; Aceso the goddess of the healing process; and Aglaiathe goddess of beauty, magnificence and adornment, and of course the latter would be my preferred goddess.

Hippocrates

*Panakeia is mentioned in the opening of the Hippocratic Oath: I swear, calling upon Apollo the physician and Asclepius [Greek god of medicine], Hygeia and Panaceia and all the gods and goddesses as witnesses, that I will fulfill this oath and this contract according to my ability and judgement...” A translation of the entire oath appears at the end of this blog, if you care.

Panax ginseng

Back to Panax ginseng, I don't grow the plant, nor have I ever knowingly used it as medicine or for pleasure. Chinese ginseng (or jin-sim) is the root of the plant which is characteristically forked, resembling a person's legs. I was in Beijing in the 1980's, just a few years before the Tiananmen Square affair, and we wandered into a dusty little herb shop which also featured a white-coated “doctor” sitting on a low chair dispensing advice (I guess). I was with a plant-hunting group and we all noticed jars of ginseng on the shelf and the listed prices ranged from a lot of money to an unbelievable lot of money – up to the equivalent of $17,000 for just one root. Our Chinese interpreters explained that the shape of the root was the deciding factor in its cost. We marveled at such expense and asked, “whoin China could afford $17,000?” Our interpreters exchanged furtive glances, grinned and shrugged their shoulders. Remember that in the 1980's China had not yet blossomed economically, so who had $17,000?

Pseudopanax crassifolius

While I don't grow Panax, I do grow a large specimen of Pseudopanax crassifolius, an endemic to New Zealand, but I must keep it protected in a warm greenhouse. I am clueless as why the genus is so-named because it certainly does not resemble Panax, though both are in the Araliaceae family. P. crassifolius is commonly known as “lancewood,” but the narrow sword-like evergreen leaves occur only when the tree is relatively young. As the plant matures the leaves change from simple to compound*, with a totally different appearance. One theory is that the fierce leaves on young plants serves to protect it against browsing by the moa, the large flightless bird from prehistoric times. As you can see from the side photo, my daughter liked to play “wicked fingernails” with the leaves, while I worried that she'd poke her little sister in the eye.

*Changing leaves is known as “heteroblastic.”

Paeonia lutea ludlowii

Paeonia mlokosewitschii

A couple of weeks ago we hosted the American Peony (Paeonia) Society, a group of people who, if they indulge in that genus, also most likely enjoy other plants such as our maples, ginkgoes, conifers etc. The Flora Wonder Arboretum hosts a small number of Paeonia species and hybrid cultivars with two of my favorites being P. mlokosewitschii and P. lutea ludlowii.

Asclepius

The common name Peony is from Greek paionia– yep, lots of vowels – and that from Paeion, the “Physician of the Gods,” its reputed discoverer.* He was closely associated with Asclepius, both of whom were invoked as Paian (Healer). Hymns were chanted to Apollo to ward off evil and were also sung before or during a battle. The names vary in their spelling, and the gods themselves are shifty; for example the name Paean is sometimes the alternative name of Apollo. In the Odyssey, Homer says about the land of Egypt: There the earth, the giver of grain, bears the greatest store of drugs, many that are healing when mixed, and many that are baneful; there every man is a physician, wise above human kind; for they are the race of Paeeon.

*However it was the Greek Theophrastus who first gave name to the genus.

Iris species

The iris is the colored portion of the eye, with the pupil in its center. In botany the genus with the same name is a group of plants with showy flowers and sword-shaped leaves, and it was Theophrastus who coined that name too. In Greek mythology Iris was a messenger of the Olympian gods (especially of Hera) which sometimes took the form of a rainbow. From the oldest parts of the Iliad the word is used for both the messenger and the rainbow.

Iris 'Blueberry Parfait'

Iris 'Dancing In Pink'

Iris 'Mexican Holiday'

I grow a number of Iris species in the garden, but I'm not really a fan of the big gaudy hybrids with cutsie-poo names like 'Blueberry Parfait', 'Dancing in Pink', 'Mexican Holiday' etc. Sadly my species plants cannot all be identified because 1) I'm not an Iris expert and 2) my crew threw away many of the labels when they cleaned up the leaves in the autumn. The labels were metal and each had an 18” bamboo stake next to the label so they would be easy to find. It was painful to realize that my employees – at least some of them – have no clue to the importance of a plant name for me. I really feel that I deserve a lifetime achievement award for my enormous patience and restraint when dealing with mindless label-losing workers.

Crocus species

Crocus (croci plural) are in the Iris family and the name is from Greek krokos, and that is a word derived from Hebrew karkom, Aramaic kurkama and Arabic kurkum. The word ultimately goes back to the Sanskrit kunkumam which means “saffron.” In Greek mythology Krokus was a mortal youth who was unhappy with his love affair with the goddess Smilax, so the gods turned him into the plant that bears his name.

The problem was that Smilax was a nymph, and love always is unfulfilled and tragic when mortal men mess with goddesses. Smilax, for her part, was transformed from a woodland nymph into a brambly vine. Smilax is a genus of about 300 species found in the tropics and subtropics worldwide, and common names included greenbriers, prickly-ivies and catbriers. S. regelii is from Jamaica and is commonly known as “sarsaparilla,” which is also a catch-all name for all American species. Anyway it seems as if the mortal youth came out floristically better than poor Smilax.

Minoan Saffron Fresco

Saffron croci were used to dye the garments of women of high status, like priestesses, and the preferred color was yellow to deep orange-red. It originated as a sacred flower in Crete and eventually made its way into India, and to this day saffron robes are associated with Buddhist and Hindu priests, monks and nuns. A pottery discovery at Knossos was decorated with an apron-like garment with images of croci blossoms. Worn at the waist they were believed to relieve menstrual cramps, and saffron spice was used medicinally for the same purpose. Besides that, saffron was believed to increase the level of potency in men. A Minoan fresco found at Thera (now Thira) shows women dressed in yellow and orange-red, gathering saffron stigmas* from croci and offering them to a seated goddess or priestess.

*The stigma receives pollen and it is where pollen grain germinates.

Hermes

A lot of myths exist concerning plants such as crocus. Krokos was a flower-boy who became the lover of the androgynous Hermes. Since Krokos was mortal, rough play between he and Hermes resulted in a mortal wound. Wherever the blood of Krokos fell, a saffron flower grew, the red style* colored the same as his blood. Interestingly the saffron crocus, the “flower-boy,” is sterile and cannot produce seeds, and can only reproduce by offsets on the corms. Eventually traders spread it to Europe, India and China where the saffron dye and spice had a greater value than jewels or precious metals. The species (C. cartwrightianus) became the most widespread species in the Ancient World, at least a thousand years before the rise of Athens.

*The style is a narrow upward extension of the ovary, connecting it to the stigma.

Narcissus species

Narcissus

Nemesis

You probably think that the Narcissus flower was named for the vain youth who marveled at his own reflection in a pool, then fell in and drowned. That's not how the story actually goes...but first, in Greek narcissus means “numbness” because its bulb houses a toxic substance, a narcotic. In one legend Narcissus fell in love with his own reflection in a stream and remained there to admire it, then eventually died of starvation. The thoughtful gods transformed him into a flower so he could remain beside the stream forever. It was the goddess Nemesis*who led him to the water in the first place because she didn't like his proud behavior. No one is certain if the flower is named for the myth, or the myth for the flower, or if there's any connection at all. Roman Pliny the Elder claimed that the plant was named for its fragrance (narkao) which means “I grow numb,” but long before that Theophrastus and Dioscorides referred to N. poeticus – nice name. Eventually Linnaeus in his 1753 Species Plantarum described the genus when there were six known species (the plural is narcissi). The name daffodil is from affodel, and that from Greek asphodelos, but the latter is a completely different plant genus. But it too was mentioned in Greek mythology, when Homer described it as “covering a great meadow, the haunt of the dead.”

*Nemesis: her name was derived from the Greek word “nemo” meaning “dispenser of dues.” Happiness and unhappiness were measured out by her, especially with matters of love, and she made sure that happiness was not too frequent or too excessive. Geeze – really a bitch!

Liriope muscara 'Okina'

By the way the mother of Narcissus was Liriope, and she became pregnant when she was raped by the river-god Cephissus. This time the (Liriope) plant was named for the goddess. It is a low grass-like genus from east and southeast Asia, and it is somewhat like another grass-like genus, Ophiopogon, and both are placed in the Asparagaceae family. The name ophiopogonis derived from Greek ophis for “snake” and pogonfor “beard.” The Asparagus family includes 114 genera and about 2900 species, the genera which vary from Agave, Beschorneria, Camassia, Chionodoxa (Greek for “glory of the snow”), Dracaena, Hosta, Muscari, Polygonatum, Scilla and more.

Scilla peruviana

It was the Greek Theophrastus who coined the name aspharagos, and so too the name skilla. From there it became Scilla in Latin and was named for a “sea onion,” a squill (Urginea maritima). There is a plant also named Urginea maritima in the Hyacinthaceae family, and its name is due to one species coming from Beni Urgin, a place or tribal name in Algeria.

Anemone nemorosa

Ovid

Pliny the Elder

I always have trouble spelling anemone, even saying it too, but I love the plant and the fact that it is Greek for “wind flower,” literally “daughter of the wind.” The Roman Pliny the Elder said the plant was so-called because the flowers opened only when the wind blew. I think old Pliny was blowing wind on that one because I have a number of species that flower when the wind is completely still. The Metamorphoses of Ovid tells us that the plant was created by the goddess Venus when she sprinkled nectar on the blood of her dead lover Adonis. Ovid lived from 43 BC - 18 AD, but before his Venus story our “know-it-all” Theophrastus gave the name of anemone to the plant.

Cassiope mertensiana var. mertensiana

Cassiope species

Murex mollusk shell

Cassiope is rarely found in gardens because it is not so easy to grow. It is a genus of low tufted shrubs in the Ericaceae family, and from my experience it is native to mountainous regions where the drainage is sharp, including Oregon. The name is from Greek kassiope who was the mythical queen of Ethiopia and mother of Andromeda.* In another legend she was the wife of Phoenix, the king of Phoenicia. The land of Phoenicia is from ancient Greek Phoinike which means “purple country,” and was of course a Semitic civilization in the eastern Mediterranean. The “purple” reference was due to the major export of the region, cloth dyed “Tyrian purple” from the Murex mollusk, a sea snail. Extracting the dye involved thousands of snails and a great deal of labor so it was highly valued. It came in various shades but the most valuable was that of blackish-clotted blood.

Pieris japonica 'Bonsai'

Nereids

*Cassiope boasted to the Nereids (fifty sea-nymph daughters of Nereus, the old man of the sea) that Andromeda was extremely beautiful, so in revenge Poseidon sent a sea monster to devastate her husband's kingdom. Since only Andromeda's sacrifice would appease the gods she was chained to a rock and left to be devoured by the monster. Alas, Perseus flew by on the winged horse Pegasus and saved the day. The flower panicles of the Andromeda plant resemble the “chain” used to secure poor Andromeda.

Cardiocrinum giganteum var. yunnanense

We grow too forms of Cardiocrinum – var. giganteum and var. yunnanense. The word cardio is from Greek kardia for “heart” due to the shape of the leaves. Crinum is the Greek word for “lily,” and the genus Cardiocrinum is commonly known as the “giant lily” due to the huge flower stalks. Var. giganteum is the larger form of the two, and is native to Tibet, Bhutan, Assam, Myanmar, Nepal and Sikkim. Var. yunnanense is less tall, usually growing to no more than 8' tall, but its flowers are equally impressive, being white with purple-red streaks inside. The plant was first described by Nathaniel Wallich in 1824 and was introduced into commercial production in England about 30 years later. It was originally described as Liliumgiganteum before being moved into its current generic classification, but one must wonder if the two genera, Lilium and Cardiocrinum, would successfully hybridize. Probably not, for I suppose that it would have already been accomplished.

Abies cephalonica 'Meyer's Dwarf'

Abies cephalonica is the “Greek fir” and it grows in the mountains of southern Greece, but was first described by those growing on the island of Kefalonia. We grow only one cultivar – 'Meyer's Dwarf'– which forms a dense mound and with shorter needles than the type. Kefalonia is the largest of the Ionian Islands in western Greece and was named for the mythological Kephalos, the founding “head” of a great family that includes Odysseus. The word kephalos is Greek for “head.” Athenians furthered the myth that Cephalus was married to Procris, a daughter of Erechtheus, an ancient founding-figure of Athens. A lot happened to test their marriage, including Eos – the goddess of dawn – kidnapping Cephalus while he was hunting. Eight years later he was returned and Procris gave him a javelin that never missed its mark. Unfortunately, upon hearing a rustling in the bushes which Cephalus took to be an animal, he actually impaled his beloved wife. He eventually remarried but never forgave himself over the death of Procris, and he committed suicide by leaping into the sea.

Eos

Aurora

Cephalus really should have stayed with Eos, goddess of the dawn (Roman Aurora). Her siblings were Helios (the sun) and Selene (the moon), and each day Eos rose into the sky from the river Okeanos (Oceanus), and with her rays of light she dispersed the mists of night.

Homer

When you think about Aglaia, Eos, Cephalus, Panacea, Krokus, Homer with the Iliad and the Odyssey and all the other fantasies of ancient times, we're fortunate that the internet wasn't around then, or we would probably have none of these wonderful stories.

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

Hippocratic Oath

I swear by Apollo the Healer, by Asclepius, by Hygeia, by Panacea, and by all the gods and goddesses, making them my witnesses, that I will carry out, according to my ability and judgment, this oath and this indenture.

To hold my teacher in this art equal to my own parents; to make him partner in my livelihood; when he is in need of money to share mine with him; to consider his family as my own brothers, and to teach them this art, if they want to learn it, without fee or indenture; to impart precept, oral instruction, and all other instruction to my own sons, the sons of my teacher, and to indentured pupils who have taken the physician’s oath, but to nobody else.

I will use treatment to help the sick according to my ability and judgment, but never with a view to injury and wrong-doing. Neither will I administer a poison to anybody when asked to do so, nor will I suggest such a course. Similarly I will not give to a woman a pessary to cause abortion. But I will keep pure and holy both my life and my art. I will not use the knife, not even, verily, on sufferers from stone, but I will give place to such as are craftsmen therein.

Into whatsoever houses I enter, I will enter to help the sick, and I will abstain from all intentional wrong-doing and harm, especially from abusing the bodies of man or woman, bond or free. And whatsoever I shall see or hear in the course of my profession, as well as outside my profession in my intercourse with men, if it be what should not be published abroad, I will never divulge, holding such things to be holy secrets.

Now if I carry out this oath, and break it not, may I gain for ever reputation among all men for my life and for my art; but if I break it and forswear myself, may the opposite befall me. - Translation by James Loeb.

We were fortunate to visit with a good – no, a great! – customer yesterday who came to the nursery to place an order for this fall and next spring. She has ordered from me for over 30 years and is always happy and always pays on time. Her retail nursery is in the Seattle area so it's an all day commitment to come here, but last year, for the first time, she just couldn't get away from her business. Consequently the order she placed (which we shipped this past April) was smaller than usual. In other words she likes to seethe plants that she wants to buy rather than order off a list or our website.

Before we shipped I called and carefullyexpressed my concern that she hadn't order the “normal” amount, and was everything OK? She practically cried and explained how her nursery crew was relatively new and she couldn't find competent help and no one could do anything without her micro-management. Gee, I feel the same way sometimes. Anyway, her relatively small order, placed on our website, was due to her not being able to walk around and see the plants. I said, “W., let me do it foryou. I'll make you a list of plants that I think you'll be very happy to get, and if there's something you don't want just cross it off.” I spent half of a Sunday and covered the entire nursery, and submitted to her a super list of great plants at great prices.

She took it all and when her payment check came I got five enthusiastic thank you's. She reported yesterday that spring sales were strong and that she's very grateful that we exist to supply her. A happy woman with a great smile absolutely makes my day, makes for a wonderful career. What is important for me is trust, that a customer trusts that they'll get good plants at a fair price. Of course we make mistakes and sometimes a plant should never have been shipped, but overall I'm proud of what we grow and thankful that others agree.

Let's take a look at some of the plants from my super list.

Picea pungens 'Gebelle's Golden Spring'

Sciadopitys verticillata 'Fatso'

Chamaecyparis nootkatensis 'Sparkling Arrow'

Juniperus cedrus

Punica granatum 'Sarasa shibori'

Daphne burkwoodii 'Brigg's Moonlight'

Hamamelis intermedia 'Birgit'

Liquidambar styraciflua 'Slender Silhouette'

Metasequoia glyptostroboides 'Miss Grace'

Pinus contorta 'Taylor's Sunburst'

Abies koreana 'Ice Breaker'

Sempervivum 'Gold Nugget'

Leptospermum scoparium 'Kiwi'

Acer palmatum 'Fairy Hair'

Fagus sylvatica 'Aurea Pendula'

Bletilla striata 'Alba'

Cornus florida 'Autumn Gold'

Acer palmatum 'Akane'

Acer palmatum 'Marlo'

Picea glauca 'Pixie Dust'

Rhododendron macrosepalum 'Linearifolium'

Acer palmatum 'Red Sentinel'

Pinus parviflora 'Kinpo'

Cornus kousa 'Akatsuki'

Pinus parviflora 'Bonny'

Metasequoia glyptostroboides 'North Light'

Davidia involucrata 'Lady Sunshine'

...and much more.

I won't tell you her name or her business name because she might not want the attention, but it's soootempting to shout it from the mountain top. This mystery woman, and all the other men and women just as great, have given me your trust, and I'll work hard to continue to earn it.

Plants are fascinating. So too plant people. Thanks to all.

Sebright Gardens

Oregon is famous for its scenic coast, snow-capped mountains and bucolic farmlands. In addition, in the Willamette Valley just north of our capital of Salem, sits a botanic treasure – Sebright Gardens – and its success is due to the fact that the bumbling government has nothing to do with it. Thomas Johnson is the owner, an Iris breeder and grower, and it's amazing that he also has had the energy to build and maintain a plant collection as interesting and varied as any in America.

Castanea sativa 'Albomarginata'

Sebright contains scads of tree and shrub species, but there's no shortage of cultivars (cultivated variants) either, especially those with variegated flowers or foliage. A month or two ago I reviewed a ho-hum book – Variegated Trees and Shrubs by Timber Press (2004), and the boring plants presented, along with dull photography, result in it collecting a lot of dust on my bookshelf. A more fascinating publication could be produced with the variegated plants at Sebright alone. I visited the garden this past May, so let's take a variegation tour.

Pittosporum tobira 'Kansai Sunburst'

It's surprising to find Pittosporum growing outside in Oregon due to its questionable hardiness, nevertheless Sebright has at least two species with a variegated cultivar that all look sound and attractive. P. tobira is a slow-growing shrub from China, Taiwan and Japan. I've seen it in the latter country and found it thoroughly boring, though it does make an adequate hedge. Far more excitement occurs with the variegated selection 'Kansai Sunburst', and at least in spring it looked vibrant, but I admit that I have never seen it growing later in the season. The name is perhaps not valid, with the mixture of the Japanese Kansai with the English Sunburst, but who really cares as they sound good together. Kansai is the western portion of the main island of Japan, Honshu, and it is also known as Kinki, which literally means “near the capital,” referring to the ancient capital of Kyoto. Later the capital was moved east (to), hence “Tokyo” or “east Kyoto.”

Pittosporum tenuifolium 'Irene Patterson'

The Sebright garden might not be to everyone's taste due to its flamboyance, but let the gardener do what he wants. Pittosporum tenuifolium 'Irene Patterson' is a glittering selection, and is a slow-growing evergreen shrub with white leaves in May, then more green develops in summer. I've never seen it in winter but Hillier in Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2014) states that the leaves “develop a pink tinge in winter.” It was found in the wild near Christchurch, New Zealand by G. Patterson and named for his wife. The species is commonly known as kohuhu and black matipo, Maori names. Its dark-purple flowers are lost in the black stems, but interestingly they are scented only at night. In any case 'Irene Patterson' is a male so it's odd that it bears Mrs. Patterson's name. The specific name tenuifolium means “slender-leaved,” while the genus name is from Greek pittafor “pitch” and spora for “seed.”

Pittosporum illicioides var. angustifolium

Tomitaro Makino

A third Pittosporum species, but without variegation, is P. illicioides, so named because the leaves resemble the Illicium genus. I've never seen the straight species, which was named by the great Japanese botanist Tomitaro Makino (1862-1957), but the var. angustifolium from Taiwan is a favorite as I'm partial to its elegant look, with long, linear leaves. I wish only for success for Sebright's Pittosporum specimens, but I'll be watching in the coming years because their existence in an Oregon garden seems so improbable.

Osmanthus heterophyllus 'Akebono'

Salix lindleyana

John Lindley

Osmanthus heterophyllus is a slow-growing medium-sized evergreen shrub and there are a number of variegated selections. 'Goshiki' (meaning 5-colored) is popular and I have one in the collection, but I had never before seen Sebright's 'Akebono'. The name is Japanese and means “dawn” or “daybreak,” no doubt in reference to the creamy white new spring growth. The heterophyllus species (opposite leaves) can be mistaken for a holly (Ilex) unless you are familiar with both, but with Osmanthus the scented flowers appear in autumn. Osmanthus is in the Oleaceae (olive) family, and the generic name is from Greek osm for scent and anthus for flower. The earliest known use of the word was by the botanist and horticulturist John Lindley (1799-1865). I have seen the Rhododendron lindleyi – I think at the Rhododendron Species Botanic Garden – and we have grown the sweet, little creeping willow, Salix lindleyana, both named for the eminent plantsman.

Eleutherococcus sieboldianus 'Variegata'

Sebright is famous for growing genera and species that I have never encountered before, and what's fun is to return home and do the research. One such is Eleutherococcus sieboldianus, and with the specific name honoring Philipp von Siebold you would assume that it is native to Japan...but wrong. It's native to China but it was the Japanese botanist Makino who first described it. It is a medium-size deciduous shrub in the Araliaceae family but it is something I probably wouldn't want to grow, and that includes its variegated cultivar 'Variegata'. It was showy in the Sebright garden but to me it looks like another ubiquitous Euonymus or Ligustrum or something. I might be tempted to grow a sister species – E. senticosus – which is from Siberia and is used in herbal medicine that supposedly increases stamina and boosts the immune system. Anyway, I can't even pronounce the generic name without difficulty, but it's from Greek and means “free-berried.”

Camellia x 'Golden Spangles'

Caerhays Castle

I knew nothing about Camellia 'Golden Spangles' until my first encounter last month, then discovered that it is a x williamsii hybrid. That cross of C. japonicaand C. saluenensis– a Chinese species – was first raised by J.C. Williams at Caerhays Castle, Cornwall about 1925. It is of excellent garden merit and it can flower as early as November and continue on until April. 'Golden Spangles' displays a subtle variegation that you don't notice until you approach closely. It was found at RHS Garden Wisley in 1957 so I suppose most Camellia aficionados know of it. A spangle (diminutive of spang) is a “shiny ornament”...which is from Old English for a “buckle.”

Aesculus hippocastanum 'Wisselink'

'Wisselink' on the left and 'Erythroblastos' on the right

I have sung the praises before of Aesculus hippocastanum 'Wisselink' but sadly it is often confused with another cultivar, 'Erythroblastos'. They look different now in the greenhouse – my one small plant of each – but the latter cultivar emerges with shrimp-pink leaves before they change to light green. I don't know my “chestnuts” very well, as these are the only two cultivars I grow, but in the Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2014) 'Erythroblastos' is listed belonging to the hybrid x neglecta Lindl. Then I grow confused because after neglectaLindl., Hillier follows with (A. x glaucescens Sarg.) (A. flava x A. sylvatica). The USDA* goes with A. flava x A. sylvatica. As you can see from the photo at the side, the leaves' colors are different, and also A. hippocastanum has a broader leaf lobe, so they shouldn't be confused. In any case 'Wisselink' was found by William Wisselink as a chance seedling near the Dutch town of Aalten, and I wonder if the original find is still growing there. If there is a Dutchman in the Flora Wonder readership, please send me a photo.

*USDA = United States Department of Agriculture. The ODA – Oregon Department of Agriculture, who won't let me sell plants without a license, charged me $3,388.60 for a one-year renewal. I estimate that for my career I have donated over $100,000.00, all with nothing to show for it. Glad to pay for the inspectors' wages, benefits and retirement, though I don't really need to be “regulated.”

Fatsia 'Camouflage'

I've never grown a Fatsia, even though the leaves resemble an Acer macrophyllum on steroids. The Sebright label of Fatsia'Camouflage' implies that it is a hybrid, but I'm not a Fatsia guy either. The genus is in the Araliaceae family, and the name fatsia comes from an obsolete Japanese name of fatsi for Fatsia japonica. 'Camouflage' was brought to America from Japan by plant collector Dan Hinkley, then Monrovia Nursery/Lowe's Box Store trademarked the name. On Monrovia's website they list it as Camouflage TM Variegated Japanese Arailia. Under that they offer a synonym Fatsia japonica 'Variegata'. Ok, so it's not a hybrid then? Hillier lists a F. j. 'Variegata' where “the leaf lobes are white at the tips. FCC 1868.” So that's not the same as 'Camouflage'. You could say that the big shots at Monrovia do the nomenclatural world no good when they borrow an established 150-year-old valid cultivar name and apply it to their 'Camouflage'. Maybe I shouldn't be harsh on the huge corporation, but I have learned in the past that “big” companies are often comprised of “little” people. Anyway I like the name which is from French camoufler, “to disguise.”

Prunus incisa 'Variegata'

Prunus incisa is the “Fuji cherry” and the botanic name is due to the deep incisions on the leaf. With the cultivar 'Variegata' you get a small tree with white to light-pink blossoms in spring, then colorful foliage the rest of the season. If my company was limited to growing only Prunus – especially the cherries – I would have gone bankrupt long ago. I admire them greatly, but they eventually develop some type of crud for me and then soon expire. Instead of attempting to figure out the problem, it is best for me to keep them off the property and just enjoy them in others' gardens.

Styrax japonicus 'Frosted Emerald'

Somewhat similar in appearance to the above – actually much better – is Styrax japonicus 'Frosted Emerald' and I happily have no problem with it (except for the occasional reversion, easily removed). I have grown the bushy 'Frosted Emerald' in full sun, and when established it does not burn. The cultivar originated in Oregon at the nursery of Crispin Silva, a Mexican immigrant who moved to the USA when young. He learned his horticultural skills at other nurseries before starting his own, and his small company is (or should be) famous for introducing great plants such as Davidia involucrata 'Lady Sunshine', Ginkgo biloba 'Munchkin', Acer palmatum 'Sir Happy'– the most dwarf of any palmatum, Styrax japonicus 'Fragrant Fountain' and much more. If there is any downside to 'Frosted Emerald' it is that the spring flowers are lost amongst the dazzling foliage, but on the plus side you could say that it “flowers” brilliantly from spring through fall.

Zingiber mioga 'Dancing Crane'

The “true gingers,” the genus Zingiber, are native to India, China and other southeast Asian countries. The genus is known for its medicinal and culinary use, and the myoga species is valued for the stem and flowers. It is the “Japanese ginger,” but the deciduous herbaceous perennial is also native to southern Korea and China. The flower buds can be finely shredded and used as a garnish for miso soup, and one can do no better than to start off the morning with a bowl of misosoup. Botanically speaking “Zingiber is a genus of tropical Asiatic plants in the Zingiberaceae family having tuberous rootstocks, leafy stems and a coned cluster of imbricated bracts of which each bract encloses from one to three flowers.”Merriam-Webster. Whether or not you use the cultivar 'Dancing Crane' for food or medicine, you can enjoy its lively variegated foliage.

Cornus florida 'First Lady'

Melania Trump

I guess that every species of “dogwood” has a variegated representative. Heck – I even introduced one myself: Cornus kousa 'Summer Fun', but there have been dozens of others. A new encounter for me at Sebright was C. florida 'First Lady', a variegated form of the “Eastern dogwood,” with easternmeaning those dubious lands where the sun shines ahead of me. Also known as the “Flowering dogwood,” the flowers consist of four bracts which surround the small head of yellowish flowers. I don't know why 'First Lady' was coined with its name, but I would have changed 'Summer Fun' or any of my other plant introductions to 'First Lady' if I thought that I could earn an audience with our current First Lady. I would teach Melania about the wonders of horticulture and the magic of nature, and probably steal her away from her preposterous husband. I don't have much hair anymore, but it sure looks better than his!

Hydrangea paniculata 'Summer Snow'

As I've said before, Sebright owner Thomas Johnson doesn't shy away from the spectacular in his garden. If you visit there it all works anyway...but maybe if you're sensitive you should bring your sunglasses, especially so for Hydrangea paniculata 'Summer Snow'. The species was described by Siebold and is a medium-sized shrub – give it enough room, as I know from experience. In 1753 Linnaeus coined the Hydrangeaname by combining Greek hydr (from hydor* for water) and angeion for “vessel” or “capsule,” due to the shrub's cup-shaped seed pods.

John Singer Sargent - Hercules and the Hydra

Pollaiolo - Hercules and the Hydra

*Hydra was a serpentine water monster in Greek and Roman mythology, a creature that possessed many heads, and for every one chopped off it would regrow a couple more. The story goes on and on, and even involves Hercules who is given credit for slaying the beast. Ancient and modern art loves to depict the myth, and two of my favorites are Antonio del Pollaiolo's Hercules and the Hydra (1475) in the Uffizu Gallery, Florence and also John Singer Sargent's 1922 rendition.

Camellia 'Night Rider'

Most plants' new growth is colored differently than the older foliage, so by a loose definition all plants are variegated. I won't be that casual except in the case of Camellia 'Night Rider' where the plum-brown new leaves contrast with the older green foliage. Pieris japonica 'Katsura' pulls off the same trick. After I saw the Camellia at Sebright I was happy that Gossler Farms Nursery – buy something! – had a couple in stock. It will bloom with small semi-double flowers with yellow anthers. The cross of C. 'Ruby Bells' and 'Kuro tsubaki' was performed by New Zealander O. Blumhardt – great name! – and 'Night Rider' first flowered in 1980.

Lupinus polyphyllus 'Manhattan Lights'

I'll finish the tour with a multicolored flower, Lupinus polyphyllus 'Manhattan Lights'. The species is the “Big-leaved lupin” or “Many-leaved lupin,” and is native to many areas of North America, often growing in moist soil along creeks and rivers. In the wild the flowers are blue to purple, but with hybridization the flowers vary wonderfully, and as a group they are known as “garden lupines.” David Douglas brought the first Lupinus polyphyllus to England in the 1820's, and a century later horticulturist George Russel from York gained fame as a breeder. I don't know if the Englishman Russel would name a plant for Manhattan, but Sebright's plant looks like a Russel hybrid. The word lupin comes from lupus, Latin for “wolf.” Lupines are usually found in groups, as are wolves at times.

A Sebright greenhouse

Bring your money when you visit Sebright because they are also a retail nursery, specializing in Hostas and ferns, as well as other choice plants. There is no admission into the gardens, though they probably should charge something to help with the upkeep. Every time I visit I discover something new, but something that has been there all along, and then add that to all of the new plantings where Thomas has acquired rare and fun species. I think he gets agitated when he sees an empty spot in the ground, and he's kind of like Noah with his critters on the ark.

16 years ago my girlfriend Haruko became my wife...and lucky me. She has improved my life and has also become famous in the community as an energetic volunteer, friend and counselor to many. Not only that, she is raising two incredible female children – not an easy task with their ages at 12 and 15 – but also she tends to her old husband to make sure he stays healthy and pleasant.

My favorite color: black

When we married she applied for her green card to allow her to remain in America, and so we went before a Judge-Woman of some title to obtain the American stamp of legitimacy, of legality. I assumed that we would be interviewed separately and asked personal questions that marriage-of-fraud or convenience would not be able to answer. For example: What did I eat for breakfast? What kind of music did I listen to? What was my favorite color? I coached my spouse that my favorite color was black, which surprised her. Alas, the Judge-Woman didn't ask us anything, and after she stamped the form we exited the federal building like two giddy lovers who got away with something.

Daughter Saya, actually facing the camera

So why black? I explained to Haruko that black does not exist to many as a color, that they think it is the absence of color actually. I don't agree – when I close my eyes I don't see red or blue. In the winter the majority of hours are dark, not white or pink or orange. At least in their youth, most humans on earth have black hair, not other colors. For me, black is a complement, a color that combines well with all other colors. White-and-black is great on the piano, black-and-white is cool and sophisticated in film and photography, and pictures are usually contained securely within a black frame. Our recent black USA President was a huge mistake, but at least we had to give it a try.

Abies koreana 'Green Carpet'

Abies lasiocarpa 'Hurricane Blue'

It is thought that tribes from the past – though there is no written evidence – used the Proto-Indo-European word bhleg for “black,” a word meaning “burn.” Later it became phlegein in Greek and flagrarein Latin, then the old English speakers (Anglo-Saxons) used the term blaec. What is confusing to modern scholars is that the word blac could also mean “white” or “bright.” I go through the same headache with my Japanese wife when she says that the word ao can mean “green” or “blue.” Huh – wait a minute – green and blue are very different; how can one word – ao– mean either color? She has explained it a dozen times before but it never really sinks in.

Robinia pseudoacacia 'Unifolia'

St. John in the wilderness

Black is a common name for some groups of plants. Robinia pseudoacacia is the “Black locust,” although its bark is reddish black and gray. It is called a “locust” due to Jesuit missionaries who supposed that the Robinia was the tree that supported St. John in the wilderness; the problem with that assumption is that it is native only to North America.* R. pseudoacacia has naturalized now in many parts of the world where it is usually considered an invasive weed. Locust leaves are compound, which means that each leaf consists of smaller parts call leaflets. These leaflets fold together in wet weather and at night, and the night closure, known as nyctinasty, is characteristic of Leguminous plants. The earliest recorded observation was made by Androsthenes when he noted the closing at night of the tamarind tree (Tamarindus indica). The genus name Robinia honors French botanist Jean Robin (1550-1629).

*The locust tree of the New Testament is probably Ceratonia siliqua (Carob tree) which is native to Syria and the Mediterranean basin.

Alnus glutinosa 'Imperialis'

Alnus glutinosa 'Razzmatazz'

Alnus glutinosa is commonly known as the “Black alder,” and it is native to Europe, northern Africa and southwestern Asia. It is a medium-sized, short-lived tree that tolerates poor or wet soils. I'm not sure why it is called black alder because the bark on young trees is greenish brown and on older trees it is dark gray. As the specific name glutinosa implies, the young green leaves and shoots are sticky with a resinous gum. It was first described by Linnaeus in 1753, and he thought it was a species of Betula (B. alnus), with alnus being the Latin name for alder. The word alder originated from Old English alor, from Old High German elira. I have grown only one cultivar of the monoecious A. glutinosa – 'Imperialis'– which I propagated by grafting onto our Oregon native A. rubra. One should graft low as the scion's caliper doesn't keep up with the rootstock. Another cultivar I have seen in the Sebright Garden is 'Razzmatazz', and it looked like fun so I bought one.

Picea mariana 'Aureovariegata'

Picea mariana 'Horstmann's Dwarf'

Picea mariana is the “Black spruce,” so-named due to dark cones and dark blue-green foliage, and indeed it was once known as Picea nigra. It is native to northern North America, from Newfoundland to Alaska, and mostly in Canada and in all three of the Arctic Territories. P. mariana can look scrappy in its native range, but then it has adapted to swamps in the boreal forests.* We propagate a couple of P. mariana cultivars, 'Aureovariegata' and 'Horstmann's Dwarf', by grafting onto Picea abies, and these grow well in either containers or in the field.

*“Boreal forests” generally refer to the more southerly part of the biome, and “Taiga” refers to the more barren areas of the northern part. The Taiga is the world's second largest biome (a major ecological community type) with the largest being the oceans.

Pinus thunbergii 'Kotobuki'

Pinus thunbergii 'Yoshimura nishiki'

Pinus thunbergii 'Nishiki tsukasa'

Pinus thunbergii is a species that is found near the sea around the coasts of South Korea and the Japanese islands of Honshu, Kyushu and Shikoku. It is the “Black pine”* while other Japanese natives like Pinus parviflora is the “White pine” and Pinus densiflora is the “Red pine.” The specific name honors Carl Peter Thunberg and was coined by Filippo Parlatore (1816-1877), an Italian botanist. We sell P. thunbergii into USDA zone 5 (-20 degrees) areas, but I think that our Pinus sylvestris rootstock allows them to survive, and I suppose that on its own roots zone 6 (-10 degrees) is more accurate). One very attractive cultivar is the dwarf 'Kotobuki', and according to my wife the name means “celebration,” “rejoicing” or “happy event.” The species is known for its silky white buds and they look like decorative ornaments among the pine's dark green foliage. The same is true of 'Thunderhead', but it is more open and grows three times faster than 'Kotobuki'. 'Nishiki tsukasa' and 'Yoshimura nishiki' were selected for their rugged looking trunks and they make good bonsai subjects.

*Kuro matsu in Japanese. Kuro means “black” and matsu means “pine.”

Rhododendron 'Black Magic'

There are a number of plant cultivars with “black” in the name, one such is Rhododendron 'Black Magic'. Its red blossoms are more dark than on most other red-flowering rhododendrons, but they are hardly black. The hybrid was made in 1982, with R. 'Jean Marie de Montague' as the seed parent and R. 'Leo' as the pollen parent.

Camellia 'Black Magic'

We also grow a Camellia 'Black Magic', my start coming from Roger at Gossler Farms Nursery in Oregon. Well, it's not black either, but the blossoms are deep dark red and appear very glossy. The large double flowers are so heavy that they droop downwards, but that's not a problem when the shrub gets large. The deep color is a nice backdrop for the flower's bright yellow stamens, and the serrated green foliage attractively resembles a holly. 'Black Magic' is new for me but it has been around for a long time. Nuccio's Nurseries of California introduced it in 1962.

Magnolia x 'Black Beauty'

Continuing with “black” cultivar names, we have Magnolia x'Black Beauty' which is also far less than black. Actually it is a selection of M. xbrooklynensis which is a hybrid of M. acuminata and M. liliiflora which was first raised at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden in 1954. What is nice about the blossoms is the dark purple exterior and the contrasting pale white interior. Our trees bloom prolifically from late April to early May and it has become a good sales item for us.

Zantedeschia 'Black Star'

Diego Rivera - The Flower Seller, 1942

Zantedeschia is the “Calla lily,” a tuberous perennial in the Arum family. Sometimes you see 'Black Star' listed a species elliottiana, and other times as a hybrid, but in any case it is patented so we can't propagate it; besides the South African and eastern Africa genus is only hardy to USDA zone 8 (10 degrees F). It is thought the word calla is from Greek kallosfor beauty, and it sure is easier to pronounce than Zantedeschia.* To many, especially in Mexico, white calla lilies symbolize purity and holiness and they're depicted in images of the Virgin Mary. They are also symbols for rebirth and resurrection because they bloom about the time of Easter.

*Linnaeus named the calla lily but it's a misnomer for it is not a true calla nor is it a true lily. The error was corrected by the German botanist Karl Koch when he renamed the genus Zantedeschia after the Italian botanist Giovanni Zantedeschi (1773-1846).

Fagus sylvatica 'Black Swan'

Fagus sylvatica 'Black Swan' is a weeping tree with dark purple foliage. I think the “swan” part of the name is due to the crook at the top of the tree resembling a swan's neck. Latin fagus is derived from Greek phegosfor an “oak.” The common word beech is from Middle English beche and that from old High German buohha. In modern German the word for “book” is buch, with buchemeaning “beech tree.” Therefore Buchholz means “bookwood” or “beechwood,” and I have been to the town of Buchholz in northern Germany near Hamburg.

Aeonium arboreum 'Schwarzkopf'

Aeonium arboreum 'Schwarzkopf', the “black rose,” is not very hardy (25-30 F) but it is a fun succulent with very dark purple leaves. When in flower the yellow clusters hover over the dark foliage presenting a striking contrast. The species is native to the Canary Islands where it can grow up to 4' in height. There is controversy about the correct name of 'Schwarzkopf' because it is not certain where the plant originated. The cultivar name means “black head,” so 'Schwarzkopf' if in Germany, or 'Zwartkop' if it originated in Holland. In any case it received the Royal Horticultural Society's Award of Garden Merit in 1993. The generic name Aeonium comes from the Ancient Greek aionos for “ageless,” and the genus is a member of the Crassulaceae family. The word crassula is from Latin for “thick” or “gross.” Think crass.

Capsicum annuum 'Black Pearl'

The English word pepper is from Greek piperi, and that from Sandskrit pippali for “long pepper,” and botanically black pepper is Piper nigrum. Also known as “pepper” is Capsicum annuum, and when Columbus discovered it in Caribbean gardens he wrongly assumed that Capsicum was the same as Piper. Capsicum was one of the earliest plants cultivated in the Americas, and there's evidence that it was used as food in Peru at least 8,000 years ago. Now it is an important ingredient found throughout the world, and you also have idiots who compete with eating the hottest of the chili peppers, and that is the “ghost pepper,” or bhut jolokia from the mountains of northern India. Eating one ghost pepper would probably kill most of us, but a recent winner, a 34-year-old dentist from Kentucky, ate a dozen of them on national TV. For what it's worth, he has red hair, but his colon no longer terminates with an anus.

Capsicum annuum 'Black Pearl'

Anyway, the first time I saw Capsicum annuum used as an ornamental was at the North Carolina Arboretum where the cultivar 'Black Pearl' was used effectively in a mass planting. In spite of the specific name annuum which means “annual,” 'Black Pearl' is an herbaceous perennial and is hardy from zone 4 to 10. Besides the glossy black foliage, its black fruit matures to red, and they are known to be extremely hot. The genus name Capsicum is from the Greek word kapto meaning “to bite.”

Hydrangea macrophylla 'Nigra'

The Japanese Hydrangea macrophylla should not be confused with Hydrangea aspera 'Macrophylla', even though the former's name indicates a large leaf. We used to propagate and sell the cultivar 'Nigra' but discontinued because Hydrangeas are considered low-value plants because big nurseries can grow them by the thousands. I still keep one in the collection and in winter I admire the nearly black stems. 'Nigra' has a “mop-head” flower so it is placed in the Hortensia group of H. macrophylla.

Ophiopogon planiscapus 'Nigrescens'

Ophiopogon planiscapus 'Nigrescens' is the “Black Mondo Grass,” an herbaceous perennial in the Asparagaceae family, and its grass-like blades are very black if grown in full sun. Small white-to-pink flowers bloom on leafless stems that rise above the foliage. They aren't much, but they are followed by glossy pea-sized purple berries. The name ophiopogonis derived from Greek ophis meaning “serpent” and pogonmeaning “beard.” Planiscapus refers to the flattened scapeor flower stalk; for example a tulip blooms atop a scape (from Latin scapus for “shaft”). Mondo grass is also commonly known as lilyturf, but the “mondo” name is an earlier genus name of unexplained origin, and it certainly is not a Japanese name. Ophiopogon's name in Japan is koku ryu, meaning “black dragon.”

Acer palmatum 'Black Hole'

Acer palmatum 'Jet Black'

I am also guilty of naming maple cultivars with black in the names. Two recent introductions are Acer palmatums 'Black Hole' and 'Jet Black', and their foliage color is more accurately dark purple. 'Black Hole' originated as a seedling from the mother tree of 'Purple Ghost', and while some veining is visible the darkness prevails. 'Jet Black' was selected about the same time as 'Black Hole' but I don't remember its seed parent – perhaps it was 'Purple Ghost' as well. While my employees are hard working, there is a limit in how much they want to mentally invest in the company. That a named cultivar is different from its seedling offspring is a concept that they have decided is TMI – too much information – and I am being unnecessarily precise when I point out that their labels are not correct. It would be easier to leave the seedlings as unidentified instead of a label that reads: Acer palmatum 'Seedling from Purple Ghost', for example. They will never be interested enough in plants to read this blog – “I just work and you pay me mon.”

Paeonia 'Black Panther'

Viola lutea 'Blackout'

Iris 'Black Suited'

Iris 'Blackwater'

Other black plants that the reader might want to seek out include Paeonia 'Black Panther', Viola lutea 'Blackout', Iris 'Black Suited' and Iris 'Blackwater'.

Rhododendron blackii

Finally I'll mention Rhododendron blackii which I have never grown, having only seen it in the conservatory at the Rhododendron Species Botanic Garden. It is a Vireya* rhododendron in the Section Envireya and it displays red tubular-shaped flowers. The species was collected in Papua New Guinea at an elevation between 2500-3300 m and was named for Michael Black of England.

*Vireya is a common name now, for the Rhododendron Section that contains them is now botanically known as Schistanthe.

Good night – turn off the lights.

Tobey's metal art

Tobey and I have been friends for 35 years. We started our nurseries at about the same time, in his case it was Meadowcroft Farm, and he grew pretty much the same plants as I do. Five years ago he closed his Oregon nursery and moved back to the East Coast where he and his wife Janey are originally from. Often mutual acquaintances will ask about Tobey, how is he doing, and is he still pursuing his metal art? The answer is that he is good, and yes.

The Chadsey home

The Chadseys live in Pennsylvania now, just west of Philadelphia in the countryside. They're not far from some of my nursery customers, so Haruko, Saya and I made a “business trip” a couple of weeks ago – an expense write-off of course – to see how the couple is doing. We arrived at lunch time, a skill I have perfected for most of my life. Tobey manned the grill and Jayne did the rest, and believe me she is an accomplished cook and hostess. Let's examine what we had for lunch.

Cucumis sativus

The first course was a cucumber soup which looked good, but I had to pass on that, and Saya quickly explained that “he likes cucumbers but they don't like him.” Funny, as a kid I ate them frequently without trouble, but somewhere as an adult even one bite will last with me for the rest of the day. They have burpless cucumbers now, I'm told, like that should solve the problem. I know, I have tried them too, but even they don't prevent the regurgitation. So I wasn't off to a good start with Jayne, but she graciously allowed me to skip the soup and go to the main course.

Tiberius

Everybody else lapped up their soup and reportedly it was quite good. I got to thinking about cucumbers, which no Greek salad does without. The vegetable, Cucumis sativus, is a member of the Cucurbitaceae family, and it is thought to have originated in India at least 4,000 years ago. Now it is grown all over the world and it is the fourth most widely cultivated vegetable. The Romans used cucumbers to treat bad eyesight, cure scorpion bites and they were carried around the waist by women wishing to have children. The Emperor Tiberius demanded to eat a cucumber every day, so in winter they were grown on movable frames to be exposed to the sun by day, then protected inside at night. The frames were glazed with “mirrorstones,” and according to Pliny they were “lapis specularis,” believed to be sheet mica.

Columbus

Columbus brought cucumbers to Haiti in 1494, so you see he wasn't just a taker. Later European trappers introduced them to native Indians in the Mid-west and Rocky Mountains and they immediately integrated them into their fields. Today China is the world's leader in cucumber production with over 50 million tons per year.

I like the sound of the name cucumber. When the vegetable reached the Middle East the Sumerians called it ukush, or something like that. During the Akkadian Empire a “q” was put in front and it became qissu. Later the ancient Greeks, who lacked both “q” and “sh” sounds, dubbed it kukuos, and after them the Latin name became cucumis, then in Old French it was coucombre.

The phrase “cool as a cucumber” is due to the inner flesh – which is 95% water – being at least 20 degrees cooler than the outside rind.

Gazpacho

I have broken bread with Jayne on a number of occasions and I have never once seen her serve anything other than healthy. She lived for a number of years in Italy so she is familiar with the benefit of a Mediterranean diet. The soup that I passed on, as my wife explained later, is called gazpacho, a classic of Spanish cuisine which originated in the southern region of Andalusia. It is usually eaten cold, particularly in the hot summer, and indeed the temperature was in the mid-90's during our visit. There are a number of theories as to the origin of gazpacho, one that suggests that Romans combined stale bread, olive oil, water and garlic. During the 19^th century the red gazpacho evolved when tomatoes were added to the ingredients, and that is how Jayne served it. In hind sight I truly regret that I didn't at least taste one spoonful – it was rude and wimpy of me.

Zucchini

Italian immigrants

Tobey was grilling chicken and vegetables, and as I said, I went straight to the main course. The onions and zucchini hit my plate first and I quickly sated my watering mouth. Zucchini, or Cucurbita pepo, is also a member of the cucumber and melon (Cucurbitaceae) family, but I have no problem with it. Not surprisingly zucchini is derived from the Italian zucchino meaning a “small squash,” while the word squashcomes from the native American word skutasquash, meaning “green thing eaten green.” The zucchini, like all squash, originated in the Americas and it was Columbus who introduced it to Europe. What we grow and consume today was developed in the latter 1800's in northern Italy. Most of us would consider a zucchini to be a vegetable, but actually it is a fruit, a berryin the botanical sense, and the specific name of pepo refers to the swollen ovary of the zucchini flower. The zucchini plant, while the family originated in the Americas, did not reach the United States until the 1920's, and the vector of dissemination was almost certainly by Italian immigrants.

Zucchini plant

Zucchini is easy to grow – in fact its fruit production overwhelms most home gardeners. The result is that one should also use it for various food preparations such as in soups or bread. Many people – even the poor – are too lazy for that, and in my experience: if I put 100 zucchinis on a table to give away for free to my employees, 99 will still remain a week later. That irks me of course, their spoiled demeanor, because I know that if I put 100 cans of Rock Star or Red Bull energy drinks on the same table they would all be gone in an hour.

Barbeque onions

One cannot eat a plateful of onions – just onions – but I can't imagine a barbeque without at least some. Old Chads stirred them in with the zucchini and I hogged up a good portion. The known world eats onions, and the name is from Latin uniofor “oneness” or “unity.” In Brazilian Portuguese it is known as cebola; in Czech as cibule, in German as zwibel, in Romanian as ceapa and in Vietnamese as cu hanh.

Allium cepa

The “onion,” or Allium cepa, is thought to have originated in central Asia, and it has probably been cultivated for over 6,000 years. As a food onions are easy to grow and are less perishable than other items. In Egypt they can be traced back to 3,500 B.C., and besides as a food they were an object of worship that symbolized eternity, probably because the onion's anatomy of a circle within a circle. They were placed in the pelvic area of mummies, while King Ramses IV – who died in 1160 B.C. – was entombed with onions in his eye sockets. In the Bible (Numbers 11:5) the children of Israel complain about their limited diet forced by the Exodus: “We remember the fish, which we did eat in Egypt freely, the cucumbers and the melons and the leeks and the onions and the garlic.” Later the first Pilgrims brought onions with them on the Mayflower, but also discovered that strains of wild onions grew in America and were consumed by Native Indians.

Bruschetta

I suppose I committed another faux pas when I grabbed a slice of delicious looking bread from a plate sitting in front of me. I ate it without pause because the crust was perfect and the interior was heavenly. Neither butter nor olive oil was necessary to accompany the wonderful bread. Nearby was a bowl of diced tomatoes, absolutely blood-red with succulence, and incorporated was some green stuff – I don't know, probably basil. Anyway I gobbled that up too. Jayne didn't say a word, but when Tobey followed suit she pleaded that the tomato concoction was supposedto go atop the bread, and that it was a bruschettapresentation. My god, as guys we are just hungry, not culinary sophisticates.

Solanum lycopersicum

The tomato is the fruit/berry of the plant Solanum lycopersicum, a member of the nightshade family, Solanaceae. The species originated in western South America, but was cultivated by the Aztecs in Mexico, and was known as tomatl(“swelling fruit”). The conquering Spanish called them “tomate” (fat water), and they eventually made their way to Europe during the 16^th century. Linnaeus coined the specific epithet lycopersicum in his 1753 Species Plantarum, where it literally means “wolf peach.” Many Europeans were at first skeptical about tomatoes, one problem being that the soft attractive fruit resembled a woman's breasts, therefore it was a sinful allure. Some also thought they must be poisonous because pewter plates reacted to the tomato's acidic juice.

Walt Disney World record-setting tomato tree

I have grown all kinds of tomatoes, with the most successful being cultivars grafted onto vigorous superior rootstocks. They cost a couple of dollars more to begin with but the output is two-to-three times more than seedling grown plants. I've never set any growing records, certainly nothing coming close to Mr. Graham's record in 1986 of a behemoth cultivar of 'Delicious' weighing in at 3.51 Kg (7 lbs. 12 oz.). The largest tomato plant grown was the cultivar 'Sungold' and it reached 19.8 m (65 ft.) in Lancashire, UK in 2000. A “tomato tree” in Florida at the Walt Disney World Resort's greenhouse set a Guinness World Record by producing over 32,000 golf-ball-size tomatoes and a total weight of 522 Kg (1,151 lbs.).

La Tomatina

We remained well-behaved at the Chadsey table, unlike the 40,000 Spaniards at Brunol who throw 115,000 Kg (254,000 lbs.) of tomatoes at each other in the yearly La Tomatina festival. The visuals of hairy Spaniards in their speedos plastering each other can only be made possible with considerable alcohol consumption I should think. The origin of the festival is thought to have begun when some kids weren't allowed in a parade of enormous figures with big heads (Gigantes y Cabezudos), and in retaliation they grabbed tomatoes from a vegetable stall and threw them at the figures until the police broke things up. The following year the young people returned to the town hall square (on the same last Wednesday of August) and a tradition was born. The local council at first tried to ban El Dia de la Tomatina, but with no success, and I'm sure that today the economic boost from thousands of tourists will assure its continuation. You say “tomayto,” I say “tomahto”...

Solanum tuberosum

You say “potayto,” I say “potahto”... Our feast included cute little baby potatoes, Solanum tuberosum in the same Solanaceae family as the tomatoes. Potatoes are the world's fourth largest food crop – not just vegetable crop as the cucumbers – following corn, wheat and rice. Genetic testing has determined a single origin for potatoes in the area of southern Peru and northwestern Bolivia, and they were domesticated somewhere between 7,000 to 10,000 years ago.

The English word potato comes from Spanish patata which is the name used in Spain. Native to the Andes, the Quechua, call them papas. There are about 5,000 potato varieties worldwide, with 3,000 of them found in the Andes alone. Jayne was delightfully surprised when I said that you could graft a tomato onto a potato rootstock and both plants would yield fruit. “Say, what?” I repeated while she processed it visually in her mind. I know because I was impressed when I came upon a photo at the beginning of my career in The Grafter's Handbookby R.J. Garner.

Gallus gallus domesticus

As I said, chicken was the main course. Gallus gallus domesticus to be precise, and it is one of the most widespread of any domestic animal with a world population of about 19 billion in 2011. Genetic studies indicate that the fowl originated in Asia with the clade (from Greek kladosfor “branch”) found in America, Europe, the Middle East and Africa coming from the Indian subcontinent. By the fifth century BC domesticated chickens had made it to Greece and into Egypt by the mid-15^th century BC where it was known as “the bird that gives birth every day.” Chickens typically live 5 to 10 years, depending on the breed, with the world's oldest being a hen that lived to 16 before dying of heart failure, according to the Guinness World Records.

Square watermelons from Japan

Beautiful watermelon followed the main course, so we were back in the Cucurbitaceae family with Citrullus lanatus. One can successfully grow watermelon in western Oregon – and I have – but commercially they come from the warmer regions of eastern Oregon. The species was once thought to originate in South Africa but that was a different plant from the watermelon that Linnaeus saw and named, which is from northeast Africa. As with the cucumber, the watermelon is a special kind of berry, botanically known as a pepo. The seedless watermelon was initially developed in 1939 by Japanese scientists, and today they comprise 85% of total watermelon sales in the USA. My 12-year-old daughter can practically eat a whole watermelon by herself, and at 91% water I guess it does her no harm. Japanese farmers show their cleverness by growing square watermelons – they don't roll around in the refrigerator, plus they make better use of the refrigerator's space.

Tobey and Janey

The Chadsey's went to a lot of trouble for our lunch and it was the best meal we had on our week-trip to Pennsylvania and Washington, DC. When we said our goodbyes out in the 95 degree heat at the train station I shook Tobey's hand and hugged Jayne – the best part – and I mumbled something about her being beautiful. Unfortunately for her she had to go home and do the dishes.

I Can't See the Future

The Allure of Lore

Wandering Through Nomenclature

Murder in the Grove

Pendant Plants

Horticolor Red

Specific Epithets

To Tell the Truth

Cheer Up!

Riverside Treasures

Flora Fun

Views on Life

Varius*

Floral Fillers

Strawberry Fields...Forever

Greek To Me

A Happy Customer

Sebright Variegation Tour

Black Plants

Lunch with the Chadseys