June 2012: Roses

No doubt about it. Roses and hydrangeas reign supreme in June, and this year they are spectacular.

Roses first.

While it was difficult to decide which of my bewitching, lushly fragrant roses to talk about, Rosa ‘Belle Vichyssoise’ won out because of the fascinating history of Belle’s rose-class, the Noisette.

In the early 1800’s John Champneys, an amateur rose hybridizer in South Carolina, developed the first reblooming rose in the western world, R.’Champneys’ Pink Cluster’. Then, as the story goes, he distributed the rose to a number of people, including his French-born neighbor and nurseryman, Philippe Noisette. Philippe, in turn, sent the rose or seedlings of the rose to his brother, Louis Claude, a nurseryman in France, who used the roses as seed parents in his own hybridization program.

Louis invited the renowned botanical painter Redoute to draw one of the roses. On the drawing Redoute wrote: “Rosa Noisettiana, Rosier de Philippe Noisette.” The rest is history: Redoute’s paintings became world famous, along with the name Noisette, and all the hybridized roses in the class are now called Noisettes — not Champneys.

Was Champneys robbed?

William R. Prince, of the Prince Nursery in Flushing, New York, the purveyor of plants to many notables, including George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, certainly thought so. In 1846 he wrote: “The origin of the first varieties of this remarkable group has been announced erroneously to the world by various writers, arising first, from the want of candor on the part of Philippe Noisette of Charleston, when he transmitted the plants to Paris; and secondly, from the ignorance of those who have discussed the subject.”

Was Champneys robbed? Probably.

But don’t let this sorry history deter you from enjoying the splendid Noisette, my treasure, Rosa ‘Belle Vichyssoise’. Unlike most Noisettes which prefer southern climes, Belle is winter hardy here in the northeast, zone 7. She is in continuous bloom from late Spring thru Fall, flaunting fat clusters of small pink blossoms that perfume the air with intoxicating fragrance. And she enjoys robust health, a sine qua non in my organic garden. Truly a must-have rose.

I purchased mine from Roses Unlimited (www.rosesunlimitedownroot.com).

Update on Rosa ‘Golden Fairy Tale’. ( See “2011 Successes”)

This year R. ‘Golden Fairy Tale’ is better than ever. No change in the foliage—-still clean and healthy. It’s the flowers. The shrub is bursting with them; one large stem even jumped the fence looking for new worlds to conquer. The blossoms are fragrant and beautiful from bud to mature bloom. Another must-have rose.

I purchased mine from Palatine Roses ( www.palatineroses.com) on the recommendation of one of the owners, Eva Schmitz.

Driveway Garden

Jun1

Some plants have great survival skills and problem-solving smarts. When voles invade their soft, cosy garden beds, rather than meekly accepting extinction they pack their bags and move into the protective sharp gravel, vole-safe driveway (and paths), where they flourish and increase. Siberian Iris and Astilbe are two good examples.

My driveway is prime real estate — the Central Park West of the garden.

Even Digitalis grandiflora (syn. D. ambigua), the yellow foxglove, which owing to its toxic nature is rarely bothered by voles, never misses an opportunity to add to its driveway holdings.

Actually, in lieu of a driveway, a gravel path will serve the same purpose. When I thought the voles finally got every last one of my Grape Hyacinth bulbs I was surprised and delighted to find them popping up in the stone paths. (Ditto for the digitalis.)

Needless to say, I’m especially cautious and restrained when weeding. You never know what wonders you may find—or for that matter where they may be found. ( See also the Nov. 2011 post, “Prunus ‘Snow Fountain’ “).

As Louis Pasteur once said: “Chance favors a prepared mind.”

“The Darling Buds of May”: Rhododendrons: ‘Ben Morrison’ & ‘Calsap’

May20

There are two May flowering plants that demand a mention.

Rhododendron ‘Ben Morrison’ always reminds me of the late Hank Schannen, plantsman-hybridizer extraordinaire, because it was his favorite evergreen azalea. Not surprising. Ben Morrison, beautiful in bud and flower, is a boldly handsome bi-color standout in orange-pink and white with a vibrant reddish-orange flare. In addition to these attributes, Ben is a reliable, hardy bloomer and immensely popular with one and all. Sort of like having your very own May fireworks display.

My second “mentionable”, Rhododendron ‘Calsap’, is a dazzling elepidote whose only real drawback is its silly name. With lovely lavender buds which open to luminous, snowy white flowers, graced with knock-your-socks-off purple-red flares, this beauty lives to be admired. And Calsap possesses both the good health and hardiness lacking in one of its similarly flowered parents, R. ‘Sappho’.

Take a tip from the bees and try one or both for May magic and year-round enjoyment.

May Surprise: Azalea Leaf Gall

May14

At the beginning of May I found a very unusual and interesting growth on my azalea, Rhododendron ‘Gibraltar’. It looked like a baseball-size, smooth, light green fruit. Wow, I thought, a HUGE seedpod.

So wrong!

Jim Fry, an azalea guru, set me straight. My azalea had a fungus disease, Exobasidium vaccinii (or E. japonicum), otherwise known as azalea leaf gall. During cool wet Spring weather the fungus enters the tissue of plants, incubates over winter, and the fleshy galls appear the following Spring. When the galls turn white—looking as though they have been dusted with flour— they are actually coated with fungal spores which can infect other plants. Cut them off before they reach this stage.

The fungus doesn’t kill the plant or cause serious damage but the galls do replace flowers.While a single plant sporting a bouquet of galls might be quite a garden showpiece, don’t be taken in. The fungus spores are airborne takeover artists.

Reportedly, the French solved the problem of galls the French way. They eat them. Adventurous diners, the French. Me, not so much.

R.’ Gibraltar’ is a gorgeous deciduous orange azalea. One of the best. Don’t let the possibility of galls stop you from having it in your garden.

And forgive me as I digress a bit to recommend another orange May beauty, my favorite tree peony, Paeonia ‘Nike’. Exquisite flowers and fragrance! (Available from Klehm’s Song Sparrow Nursery).

Hot Tips: Vole Damage Prevention

Apr2

Some say when the earth comes to an end rats will be the sole survivors. My money is on voles.

Voles are underground terrorists and my garden’s Public Enemy No.1. They may look like cute, plump mice but these rodents are the spawn of the Devil and guilty of outrageously bad behavior.

After burrowing under ground they are active day and night eating plants, bulbs, roots of trees and shrubs —most everything really, they aren’t picky. Laburnum, styrax, edgeworthia, roses, camellias, azaleas, lespedezas, astilbes (Big-Mac for voles), epimedium, daylilies, woodland orchids, and even toxic hellebores and foxgloves have been ravished and killed. I could go on and on. Nothing is safe.

Female voles as young as 4-6 weeks can mate throughout the year—-that is, when they aren’t eating. Once pregnant, gestation is only about three weeks, and each litter can have 3-6 young. (One reference said up to 10 young). Do the math: With that sort of reproductive ability they can, in a very short time, overrun a planet, much less a garden. Pretty darn horrifying.

What’s an organic gardener to do?

While I harbor murderous intent, poisons and traps that also endanger beneficial wildlife (not to mention beneficial family members) are out of the question.

We have had some success with Sonic Molechasers that repel voles and other borrowing rodents with penetrating underground sonic sound at 15 second intervals. (Despite the name, moles are not my problem; they eat slugs, not plants, though voles are opportunists and will take over the moles’ sub-soil tunnels). But Molechasers are powered by batteries and therefore useless in winter when batteries run out and can’t be replaced. I was heartbroken one Spring — when the snow finally melted— to find several beloved camellia plants, loaded with buds, lying on the ground rootless and dead.

What’s an organic gardener to do?

Well, I found a natural solution that works: VoleBloc, a non-toxic soil additive consisting of coarse particles of slate, protects plants because voles have sensitive skin and avoid tunneling through abrasive material.

So far so good. Here it is April and my camellias are still rooted and happy. Ditto for all the plants treated with the repellent. (Note: while this winter was unusually snow free, for purposes of an accurate test I did not replace any of the Sonic Molechasers’ dead batteries. VoleBloc was on its own).

Protecting plants from predator damage is never ending. Experience tells me that nothing is foolproof at all times and in all circumstances. So with that caveat, I’m happy to say that VoleBloc is working now. I’ll keep you advised.

Addendum April, 2013: I can no longer recommend VoleBloc. Not only has it become prohibitively expensive, but the voles ate the roots of two VoleBloc treated plants this past winter. I’m now trying something new. More about that soon.

August 20, 2013: I now highly recommend 3/8 Burgundy Red chip, sharp particles of stone that reliably protects plants against voles, at less than a quarter of the cost of Volebloc. I purchased the stone at Southampton Masonry in Southampton N.Y., (631) 259-8200.

2015: The Burgundy Red chip stone still works. For maximum protection, place the plant on top of a layer of stone in the planting hole, mix some stone with the planting soil, and then, after planting, place a layer around the plant.

March Bloom 2012

Mar24

Rhododendron mucronulatum ‘Mahogany Red’ usually blooms in April, but this year it jumped the gun and was in full dazzling flower in March. The bees were delighted. Not wanting to be left behind, Mahogany’s longtime garden companion, the fragrant Magnolia stellata ‘Royal Star’, also made an early appearance with its lovely rosy-pink buds that open white. These two loving intertwiners have shared star billing in my garden for over fifteen years and have bloomed reliably and heavily every year. Both flourish in compost-rich, well-drained acid soil.

Camellia ‘Governor Mouton’, a hardy April bloomer, also flowered in March because of the unseasonably warm weather. A old favorite introduced in the eighteenth century, the Governor is quite the showstopper with vibrant red flowers splashed with white. (For hardy camellia culture information, see William Ackerman’s book, “Beyond the Camellia Belt”, and click on my post, “Exciting Plants for Shade”).

Edgeworthia chrysantha always blooms in March and this year is no exception. Despite the unexpected competition from the fabulous plants described above, Edgeworthia had no problem attracting attention with its showy yellow and white flowers that perfume the air with intoxicating fragrance; and when the flowers fade, the shrub sports beautiful, tropical like foliage for the rest of the growing season. All this on a woodland plant that appreciates shade.

Edgeworthia chrysantha copyright 2012

March 2012 has been both a surprise and a joy.

Hellebores and Naming Names

Mar3

Big surprise! February wasn’t the “cruellest” month, not even close. (See “Birds” (February 2012.) And now that March has arrived, Spring is just a shiver away. Let’s talk plants.

These days you can’t open a nursery catalog without seeing scores of new hellebores. Breeders have gone overboard, producing double flowers, multicolored flowers, speckled flowers and all sorts of combinations. You name it, they’ve got it.

And the plant photos are spectacular. Which is all well and good if you are gardening in a catalog. In a garden, most of the flowers are so hangdog you can’t appreciate their beauty without first getting down on your hands and knees in order to lift their heads for a peek. I don’t know about you, but since my knees suffered through two bouts of Lyme Disease (ticks 2, Lois o) I might be able to get down, but I sure as blazes can’t get back up.

But all is not lost. There is a fella I know (and grow), Helleborus ‘Ivory Prince’, who isn’t at all shy and downcast. With sturdy stems, lovely outward facing white flowers with streaks of pink and green, and blue-green foliage, he’s my kind of guy.

Ditto for H. ‘HGC Josef Lemper’, similarly endowed and possessing even larger white flowers that fade to a light green. I saw this robust hellebore featured in the Linden Hill Gardens’ exhibit at the 2012 Plant-O-Rama held at Brooklyn Botanic Garden. The folks at Linden Hill told me that the plant blooms for them in Bucks County, PA, from November to May. Wow! The real Josef Lemper must be quite something.

Or, maybe not.

Breeders name plants for all sorts of reasons. Some auction off naming rights to the highest bidder and others, like Dr. Griffith Buck, the famed rose hybridizer, named plants after friends. But as Dr. Buck discovered, it didn’t always work out. One friend refused the honor because she didn’t want to hear: “Fleeta has a weak neck, Fleeta wilts, Fleeta fades”. (Fleeta had a point.)

The most famous name-caller of all was the Swedish botanist Carl Linnaeus, who, in the 18th century, devised an entirely new classification procedure for plants, the Linnaean binomial system of nomenclature, which is the basis of our modern method. As aptly stated in an informative article by Kennedy Warne, founding editor of New Zealand Geographic, “Carl Linnaeus, born 300 years ago, brought order to nature’s blooming, buzzing confusion.” (Warne, “Organization Man,” Smithsonian magazine, May 2007).

Linnaeus took advantage of his position as namer-in-chief to honor those he liked and to belittle those he didn’t. As for example, he “rewarded” one of his critics by naming a smelly weed after him. He didn’t always play nice.

(But he was quite interesting. Many of his lectures were nature studies held outdoors, walking through fields with hundreds of participants — joyous, educational social gatherings replete with colorful banners and the jubilant sounds of trumpets, bugles and horns. Linnaeus styled these events, “inquisitions of the pastures”. Unfortunately, too much of a good thing for some. “We Swedes are a serious and slow-witted people”, protested the rector of Uppsala University.”We cannot, like others, unite the pleasurable and fun with the serious and useful”).

In the 2012 plant catalogs, plant names are followed by plant descriptions, but I don’t think we are getting the whole story — at least not where hellebores are concerned. I much prefer John Gerard’s popular Herball of 1597, because he paid attention to the “vertues”of plants. Accordingly, hellebores were recommended “for mad men”, “for melancholy,” and “for dull persons.” In other words, it’s a great plant if you are crazy, depressed or dull. Useful information.

Hellebores prefer a sweet (alkaline) soil. So, if your soil is acidic, amend with lime, or even better, wood-ash, in order to raise the ph. Provide some shade and moisture and you are good to go. (Note: Wood-ash from the fireplace also benefits other sweet-soil lovers like lilacs and peonies).

Finally, naming names isn’t limited to plants, and Linnaeus isn’t the only name-calling meanie. On a visit to the zoo, we saw a sign on a bear’s enclosure that said “Ursus horribilis”. Now, how do you suppose the bear felt? Maybe it says “Beautiful Bear” on his side of the fence, but I doubt it. (And his common name, Grizzly, isn’t much better!).

Postscript: Just read in the New York Times(3/6/2012, p.D.3) that, like me, the 5,300 year old Tyrolean Iceman had bad knees, and like me, researchers suspect that he had Lyme Disease. Wonder what he thought about hellebores.

Birds

Feb15

A flock of robins flew into the garden yesterday. I’m worried about them. All of the berries have been eaten months ago by resident and migrating birds. And I don’t see any juicy worms or caterpillars afoot. Thanks to my husband, our six birdfeeders are always full, but the robins aren’t interested in seed. And while we, and they, may be lulled (or duped?) by the spring-like temperature, February has always been the most frigid–and to my mind the “cruellest”– month of winter. So who knows what mischief Mother Nature is cookin’ up for us. She now has Europe all-a-snarl in her icy grasp. Are we next?

Canadian geese are also showing up in great numbers, to the consternation of many. A Parks and Recreation Director in Greenwich, Connecticut once called them “flying rats”, and folks there thought about importing Panamanian vultures to kill them. (Hmm, does make you wonder about a town that prefers vultures to geese).

A very different perspective is offered by the Nobel prize winning scientist, Konrad Lorenz, who spent a lifetime studying the Graylag goose. I treasure his book about them, Here Am I – Where Are You; read it and you too will share his love for these smart, endearing, funny birds, who are so much like us: They flirt, fall in and out of love, experience jealousy, and fiercely protect their young. And they are not wanting in tactful diplomacy.

Consider Lorenz’s observations of two sisters, Mitsi and Resi: Among siblings, rank order is established early on and Resi was Numero Uno. One day the sisters emerged victorious from a skirmish with two geese from another flock. Mitzi’s victory was the more spectacular– she grasped the feathers of her opponent in her beak and didn’t let go even as she was towed clear across the pond. So, when she swam back, she sounded a triumphful call in Resi’s ear. Resi, who was taking a bath–her opponent fled without a fight–wanted none of that and snapped at her sister. Poor Mitzi fell silent.

But, Lorenz reports: “An amusing scene followed: as Resi continued her bathing, Mitzi would give vent to triumphful greeting every time her sibling dunked her head into the water, but would become modestly silent when the head reappeared.”

Our world would be sadly diminished if we never heard again the summoning call of wild geese: Here Am I, Where Are You?

And then there are the wild turkeys. They do like birdseed and we like them- a lot. (Did you know they also eat ticks?). Our most interesting encounter came as we were leaving the driveway in our Volvo station wagon and came upon a family of turkeys, a male, a female, and several babies. Of course we stopped the car. As the female scurried after the kids, shooing them from the driveway into the wooded area, the male puffed up his chest, fully displayed his tail feathers and stood his ground in front of the car until the whole family had retreated safely. This fluff of feathers took on a huge, steel monster to protect his family. Amazing courage! (And since it worked, I guess the turkey had quite a story to tell his pals–not to mention bragging rights).

Benjamin Franklin wanted the turkey chosen as our national bird, precisely because of its bravery, but he was outvoted. He didn’t like the ultimate choice, the eagle, because he saw one stealing fish from another bird. “He is a bird of bad moral character,” Franklin said.

Hot Tips: Winter Protection for Tropicals

Feb9

Many of us grow tropicals like dahlias and cannas but lack a greenhouse to store them over winter. I fall into that group as well as the “Lazies”, those of us who opt out of the hassle of lifting bulbs or tubers, cleaning them, drying them, wrapping them, etc. etc. (you know the drill). But I don’t want to leave them out to die and have to replace them every year. So I grow the tropicals in containers. When frost kills the foliage, I remove the top growth and bring the containers into my unheated basement. Then I ignore them until spring— usually until May when the danger of frost has past— when I fertilize and water before placing them outside again. In over ten years I have never lost a plant.

My favorite dahlia is the exquisite ‘Bishop of Llandaff’‘ with its fire-engine red flowers, beloved by bees and butterflies; in the fall, migrating Monarchs are particularly attracted to the Bishop.

I read that in its birthplace, Wales, the dahlia is pronounced Clandaff. However its called, if you like dahlias you will love this one.

Did I mention that it has purple stems and foliage?

More 2011 Successes and 2012 Obsessions

Feb5

2011 Successes

Everyone needs an occasional bit of sunlight to chase away the winter blues. I’m no exception. So when Mother Nature doesn’t cooperate, I bask in the warm glow of Pinus densiflora ‘Burke’s Variegated’. Endowed with green needles banded in gold, this dwarf conifer resembles one of my long-time favorites, Pinus wallichiana ‘Zebrina’, but when its foliage matures and turns a luminous pale yellow, there’s none can match it in the winter landscape. My own burst of sunshine.

Whenever I see a plant with dazzling trumpet-like flowers I’m breathless with longing. It’s a case of lust at first sight. (See “Hot Tips: Great New Plant”). British Dame Penelope Lively understands. “For me,” she said, “gardening is a sequence of obsessions — the tingle of discovery, the love affair with the latest acquisition.” And so it was with me and Begonia ‘Bonfire.’ I filled three containers with this glorious annual and was rewarded all summer with a sea of vibrant orange flowers. They made me happy. Bonfire is a keeper.

Ditto for Rhododendron ‘Mrs Furnivall’, an oldie introduced in 1920 but new to my garden. No demure Mrs this one. More like a Las Vegas showgirl flaunting her stuff: a luscious display of saucy pink flowers splashed with red. She doesn’t need trumpets to be irresistible. (The bees agree).

2012 Obsessions

This year I’m after Fuchsia ‘Pour Menneke’, an annual with captivating, long, slender, soft orange trumpet flowers. (Yup, those trumpets again). An ideal plant for a container, Pour Menneke will be available this year in England, but as far as I can tell, not available here. More’s the pity, but it takes time (Drat!) before their best newbies reach us. (Yeah, yeah, I know. HAVE PATIENCE).

NEWSFLASH: Just read an alert about the Fuchsia gall mite from Andrew Halstead, Principal Entomologist with the Royal Horticultural Society in England. He warns that this predatory insect is a “devastating microscopic pest of fuchsias that will probably eventually spread throughout Britain. Because the damage cannot be controlled, it may lead to a decline in the popularity of this valuable garden plant.” (He’s right about that. ‘Pour (Poor?) Menneke’ is no longer on my wish list.)

No problem whatever with the fabulous shade plant, Heuchera ‘Stainless Steel’, from the breeding program of Charles and Martha Oliver of The Primrose Path, Pennsylvania. With silver foliage (flipside reddish-purple) and lush sprays of white bell flowers on chocolate stems in May, this unique beauty is nothing short of sensational. Grab it while you can.

credit: The Primrose Path

And thank goodness for Dan Hinkley, plantsman-explorer extraordinaire, who teamed up with Monrovia to offer a select group of his plant hunting finds, The Dan Hinkley Plant Collection, which will be available in nurseries and garden centers this Spring. Topping my wish-list is the lovely and rare Golden Crane Hydrangea, H. angustipetala ‘MonLongShou’. Not only does it flaunt showy white and chartreuse lacecap flowers with scalloped-edged petals, this hydrangea is intensely fragrant.

credit: Dan Hinkley

Finally, I can’t wait for my Genie to arrive. While this one doesn’t live in a bottle, she is magical. Magnolia ‘Genie’ has reddish black buds and masses of plum-red (dare I say magenta?) flowers in the spring with repeat bloom in the summer. She flowers at a young age, only grows to about ten feet, and is already an award winner. As the song goes: ” Who could ask for anything more?”

credit: Rare Find Nursery

New USDA Plant Hardiness Zones

Feb3

On January 25, 2012 the US Department of Agriculture released a new version of the Plant Hardiness Zone Map. Based on a thirty year period of study, 1976-2005, it reflects many of the weather pattern changes since the last Map was released in 1990. (That one covered only a thirteen year period, from 1974-1986). In short, it now appears that much of the US is 5 degrees warmer.(Or put another way, since each zone covers 10 degrees, one half -zone warmer). Possibly unsettling proof of global warming?

While gardeners will surely benefit from the more accurate planting zone information, it doesn’t explain the extreme shifts in the weather year to year and even week to week. Here it is February 1 and the weather’s been so balmy the birds are singing Spring courting songs. Compare this with last year when we had so much snow the bare ground wasn’t visible from November-May. Mother Nature is certainly havin’ a bit of fun with us.

You can download the 2012 Plant Hardiness Zone Map (national, state, or even the zone map specific to your zip code) free of charge on USDA’s website: www.planthardiness.ars.usda.gov.

Speaking of birds, have you heard about the study which demonstrates that pigeons are good in math? Pretty impressive. (See The New York Times,Dec.23,2011,p.A17) Well, it put me in mind of the time when Lawrence H. Summers, then President of Harvard University, declared that women were genetically incapable of excelling in science. Do ya think he would have demanded separate math tests for male and female pigeons? Just sayin’.

Hot Tips: Orchids

Dec22

Years ago, when we lived in California, friends gave us a gift of an exquisite orchid plant, which was bred by a highly regarded specialty nursery and arrived with a written pedigree as long as your arm. In no time Her Orchidness checked out her new surroundings, concluded rightly that she had been adopted by peasants, and promptly committed suicide. We were devastated and vowed that hereafter orchids were persona non grata. And we kept that vow for over forty years.

So consider my husband’s surprise recently when, at the supermarket, an orchid waved its lovely flowering stem at him as it rolled merrily by in my cart. I confess: The devil made me do it.

The seductress in question is a moth orchid (Phalaenopsis), a variety now widely available, even in supermarkets, and enormously popular because it is free-flowering and easy to grow. Mine flourishes with benign neglect. And the colors. Ah, the colors. Magenta, buttery yellow, chocolate, white, lime green, and bicolors with blotches and freckles and every which thing. Who could resist? Clearly, not I.

And now for the great tip I read about in a British garden magazine. For increased flowering, when the blooms fade don’t cut the entire stem; rather, cut the stem just below the lowest flower, about an inch above the next node down. The plant should then rebloom in a month or two. Let me know if this works for you.

Pest- Alert: Box Tree Caterpillar

Dec10

I like to think of my garden as one of natural exuberance (though some may see it as reckless abandon), and for 23 years I have avoided plants that favor the tightly sheared and closely managed life of a formal landscape. A plant like Box (Buxus), for example.

Alas, the Fates had a different plan in mind. At a recent meeting of my local garden club, I was the “lucky number” winner of Buxus sempervirens ‘Variegata’ , which was hard pruned to resemble a green and ivory pyramid. Poor thing. Yet, there is hope. Its variegated foliage is handsome and once it grows out the plant may be quite attractive.

So that just leaves a pest and disease issue, particularly problematic for me, an organic gardener. Garden references list over fifteen different problems affecting Box. Moreover, in the December 2011 issue of ” The Garden”, a publication of the Royal Horticultural Society in England, I read about a new horror: the Box Tree Caterpillar, which can completely defoliate plants, and has already done so on mainland Europe. And just this year, it has been found active in private gardens in the U.K.

After a call to the horticultural gurus at the Cornell Cooperative Extension in Riverhead, New York, I was reassured: the caterpillar is not (yet?) a problem in the US. But as it is native to East Asia ( China, Japan, Korea ) where many of our current and most damaging pests originate, we had all best keep a watchful eye. Surely one of the downsides of a global society.

Hot Tips: Great New Plant 2011

Dec5

While visiting my friend Sharon’s East Hampton garden last summer, I was awed by a marvelous plant aglow with a showy profusion of tubular golden bells. It was Phygelius x rectus ‘Moonraker’, an evergreen subshrub from South Africa. Phygelius has been featured in a number of British gardens (since 1855) but I didn’t think it was hardy on Long Island (zone 7). Its tag said it was. So we were off to the races.

Phygelius x rectus ‘Moonraker’ is a must-have, even if it doesn’t survive the winter, because it blooms all summer and into the Fall. And for me, it was disease free — a big plus in an organic garden. At the oft-times frigid Chicago Botanic Garden, Phygelius plants have survived as herbaceous perennials. I’d settle for that, gladly. Furthermore, hybridizers have been busy, so plants are also available with flowers in coppery orange, pink, rose and white. There’s even a new group of ever-flowering summer, compact, container plants from a British hybridizer, rated zone 8, called the CandyDropSeries. I have seen pictures. Woo Woo Hubba Hubba. Well worth having as annuals, and due to cross the pond in the Spring. Look for them too.

Hot Tips: Winter Protection for Roses

Dec3

Container gardening is very popular but container plants are extremely vulnerable in winter, even if they are hardy when planted in the ground. One option, of course, is to bring them inside but that is often not convenient or possible. I have adopted a successful method of protection for my roses in containers; it can also be used for other plants. In December, Garden Centers and such will be selling evergreen conifer branches for inside holiday decoration. White pine branches work well for outdoor protection. Cover the plants top to bottom with the branches and tie them in. Move the pots together in a group, and that’s it. Unlike other methods (as for example, the use of synthetic cones), conifer branches allow for air circulation, and they look good and smell good. (Check out the photo for the looking part). And, most important, this works.

Prunus ‘Snow Fountain’

Nov30

My spring garden is full of wonder and surprise. One year I was startled by the appearance of a diminutive red tulip, which grew right through the brown-stemmed skeleton of a withered ageratum. How did the tiny bulb get there? Its a mystery to me.

Equally puzzling are the single daffodils that suddenly unfurl hundreds of feet from the bulbs I planted. Daffodils naturalize, but do they also fly?

Perhaps a bird is the carrier. But only one intent on suicide would molest a toxic daffodil bulb; birds are, in fact, health freaks, sensible enough to prefer rose hips which contain 400 times more vitamin C per ounce than oranges.

And that may explain the rosa rugosa which sprang from the middle of a thick mound of juniper on the north side of the house. An unlikely spot for a rose, so unlikely that I’m rather inclined to think its the work of a squirrel, the ultimate haphazard gardener.

To my amazement and delight, the garden plays host to a wide assortment of extraordinary volunteers, so I’m especially careful when I rake and weed because I never know what wonderful plants may magically appear. Like seedlings of my treasure , Prunus ‘Snow Fountain’.

Twenty years ago at the Philadelphia Flower Show I saw this luminous weeping cherry for the first time. I had to have her. Easier said than done. She was not labeled; she was not part of a sponsored exhibit; no one at the show knew who she was or to whom she belonged. Kidnapping crossed my mind but this angel’s 12-foot wide arching wingspan smothered in fragrant, snowy white blossoms was a tad much for the Metroliner.

What’s a crazed, lovesick, gardener to do? Hit the phones, of course. You know, six degrees of separation. It worked. She was identified and two months later she was mine. (Not the Philly goddess. A lovely, young New York model).

And we are living happily ever after. Snow Fountain is very healthy, blooms reliably and heavily every year, and flaunts dazzling Fall foliage in shades of burnt orange and red. When her flowers fade, she produces tiny ornamental fruit that songbirds love. And thus, the wonderful cherry tree seedlings which pop up in the garden every now and again.

Ain’t Mother Nature grand?

Identity Theft

Nov26

Where is the FBI when you really need them? Con artists stole my darling Merrill’s identity, and he is so bloody mad it’s enough to make his teeth curl. That is, if he had teeth.

Merrill is a gorgeous, fragrant, white flowering magnolia, la crème de la crème of magnolias. No wonder imposters abound. A few years ago I was reading Montrose: Life in A Garden by plantswoman Nancy Goodwin, when at pages 37 and 38 I was confronted by a magnolia purporting to be Merrill, flaunting pink buds and flowers with pink stripes. There’s no pink in Merrill! I should know; he has graced my garden in Southampton, New York for over twenty years.

Yet upon further reflection I thought, what if my Merrill is the pretender? I raced to the study and checked the definitive magnolia references. Ah, vindication! The experts agree. No pink in Merrill. Goodwin’s magnolia must have been wrongly labeled. (At pages 181-182, she acknowledges that this happened to another of her magnolias.)

Magnolia x loebneri Merrill was hybridized in 1939 at the Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University, the child of a marriage between M. kobus and M. stellata, and in 1952 was named Merrill in honor of Dr. E.D. Merrill, a former director of the Arboretum. Merrill is part of the hybrid magnolia group loebneri, which originated in Germany with Max Löbner, who made the first kobus/stellata crosses shortly before World War I. Why is the group styled loebneri and not lobneri? I haven”t a clue. But my meaningful-other says the answer is no mystery. The German letter ö with a diacritical mark called an umlaut over it is pronounced ee and is always rendered as oe when German names are spelled out in English texts, unless the translator is sloppy. (Is anyone still there?)

In the year of Merrill’s christening, the Arbotetum’s publication Arnoldia reported that Merrill was covered with beautiful white flowers (Arnoldia, vol. 12, no. 6, 1952) and thereafter that Merrill was “[o]ne of the best and most vigorous of the early white flowering magnolias (Arnoldia, vol. 20, no. 3/4, 1960). Indeed, these observations are entirely consistent with all of the documentation provided me by the Arboretum. Pink is not mentioned in connection with Merrill, not ever. Case closed.

Magnolia x loebneri Merrill has much to recommend it: While I garden in USDA zone 7, Merrill will thrive in zones 5 to 8. Growth is rapid , two feet a year , and my trees are now over 30 feet tall. Despite the energy invested in such vigorous growth, Merrill bloomed abundantly at an early age and reliably every year thereafter. The beautiful, snowy-white flowers have a lovely fragrance which carries on the air. Come Fall, when the lustrous green foliage turns a rich autumnal gold, plump scarlet red fruit attracts an assortment of migrating birds.

Why settle for less?

The Real Dirt: “Try It, You’ll Like It”

Nov26

In ancient Greece, kings and such would quickstep over to the Temple of Delphi to ask the Gods questions about important matters of state – when to wage war, what to serve at an orgy, that sort of thing – and the temple priestess or Pythia would fall into a frenzied, writhing trance, and, foaming at the mouth, would spit out their divine recommendations. Without the frenzy and foaming (except for the weeks before the plant catalog is due at the printer), Anne Haines of RareFind Nursery is a modern-day plant Pythia. Ask for a recommendation and she will suggest a treasure like Rhododendron ‘Marshy Point’s Humdinger.’ For me, this aptly named autumn and spring flowering evergreen azalea was a blooming machine, flaunting glowing, double pink flowers from September to mid-December, stopped only by continuous days of hard frost, and then again in spring. Truly, a plant fit for a king!

floragloria

A Garden Blog by Lois Sheinfeld

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Identity Theft

The Real Dirt: “Try It, You’ll Like It”