Brightly Berried Mexican Dogwood Seedlings

I posted when these Cornus florida var. urbiniana seedlings were in bloom.  Today, they caught my eye when I was out giving a tour of the East Side Interceptor sewer line to folks from the District Department of the Environment and DC Water.

These trees are just a few years old, and they are as heavily berried as a 'Winter King' hawthorn.  They had great fall color this fall, and only lost their leaves last week to reveal the berries.  They taste awful, by the way.  Bitter note after bitter note with just a hint of the melony smoothness of Cornus kousa.

Those who know dogwoods know that the four bracts surround a cluster of tiny yellow true flowers.  Typically one or two of those flowers are pollinated, and go on to become fruits.  This dogwood seems to have been very reproductively successful, with a minimum of four fruits in each cluster, with many bearing seven or eight.

Here you can see the fruits along with next springs flower buds.  It seems like such a long time before they begin to unfurl, but the days will start getting longer next week....

Merry What the Heck Mas?

A close friend bought this for me and left it on my desk.  I was audibly startled when I opened the door when I arrived that morning.  At first I thought someone had left a horribly diseased plant on my desk for diagnosis.  I must confess that its bright colors did lift my spirits on some of the gloomy days we've had lately.  I'm not a great fan of poinsettias, probably since I had to grow them prior to breeding advancements that eliminated much of the guesswork in growing a good and uniform crop.

Autumns Last Glorious Gold

Courtesy Chinese fringe tree, Chimonanthus retusus. This, along with the weeping willow, are always the last trees to turn and loose their leaves in early December.  It is nearly naked now, and though we've only had one or two hard freezes, it signals that winter is really and truly here. 

Chimonanthus retusus is a curious species. There are two leaf morphologies within the same species, and the growth habit of the two types is different. For some reason, botanists do not distinguish between them.  This is the shorter, more spreading type with oval leaves.  The other type is taller, more upright, and has narrower leaves with a tapered point.





Grafting Tree Peonies

I'm going to do a workshop on grafting tree peonies for the Meneice Conference next October.  I've done my research, and I had intended to get with the program, but other work got in the way and I was delayed to mid November, a few weeks later than what is recommended.

Here you see roots of the herbaceous peony 'Jan van Leeuwen' and scions of various tree peony cultivars.  In the upper right hand corner are finished grafts.

Scion wood consists of terminal stems with strong lateral buds.  I removed the bud at the top since it contains the flower, and flowers, if allowed to develop, slow the regeneration process.

It's not the most perfect cut int he world, and I know the bottom is ragged.  The key part is that the slant is even, and you can clearly see the cambium, which is a sharp green line between lighter phloem and xylem.

Next, I tried to cut a matching wedge out of the top of the herbaceous peony root.  The roots have tough fibers, so this is not as easy as cutting a wedge out of a carrot!

Then the scion goes into the root, and I matched up the cambium layer as best I could.  The scions are much smaller than the roots, but I only need to match up one side for a successful graft.

Finally, a strip of rubber holds it all together.  Then a piece of wax film to keep the graft from desiccating.  I put half of them in a warm environment to promote callus growth, and half I kept in refrigeration, since I found reference to both methods on various Internet sites.  The ones kept in the warm treatment have been planted in the ground; those in refrigeration will remain there until spring, when they will be planted out.  They must be planted very deeply, with the scion completely buried, to encourage the tree peony scion to form its own roots.  I didn't know this until my research, but the herbaceous peony root should be removed after the tree peony scion grows roots or the tree peony won't thrive, and herbaceous peony shoots can overwhelm the tree peony.

Wavy Prickly Pear

Back in Austin for the Meneice Conference, we had the good fortune of visiting the fabulous garden of James David.  I wandered off the beaten path and ended up coming upon this wonderful prickly pear.  I've spent some time sleuthing its identity, and the nomenclature seems to be muddled a bit.  Near as I can tell, it is Opuntia engelmannii var. subarmata.  Regardless of its true name, the texture of the pads is wonderfully sculptural, and is perfect against the retaining wall in the background.

Fall Wildflowers at Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center

I've long wanted to visit the Ladybird Johnson Wildflower Center, and I got my chance last week.  We are hosting the Shirley Meniece Conference, a cherished annual conference of the Garden Club of America.  I had the idea that I should attend this year's conference in Austin to have the opportunity to see how the conference runs and help in the planning of the 2013 conference.  It was very worthwhile, and the ladies of the GCA are great.  I really enjoyed spending the time with them.  It was a whirlwind of great speakers from the start, but I did have some time to check out the surprising diversity of native plants in bloom.

This is chocolate flower, Berlandiera lyrata.  I have seen this in gardens in the Washington, DC area, but it seems to have more intensity of fragrance here.  

It was windy, and I'm lucky that I got a somewhat clear shot of the prairie zinnia, Zinnia grandiflora.

 

Gray Glove Mallow, Sphaeralcea incana has wonderful woolly gray leaves and striking orange flowers.

Gregg dalea, Dalea greggii, was used in many places to good effect as a ground cover.  The magenta flowers on long stalks floated above the foliage.

Maxamilian sunflower, Helianthus maximiliani, was in bloom everywhere, and the bees were busy collecting pollen and nectar.

  

At the end of the day, a very blue Wheeler's sotol, Dasylirion wheeleri, was striking in a bit of shade among the whites and beiges of the limestone walls of the structures in the garden.  We have a lot of work to do in the Introduction Garden at the Arboretum to create anything as striking as the display at the Wildflower Center, but I trust the creativity and hard work of our staff will result in something equally inspiring.

GWA: Wild Corn and Wild Cotton

After the stop at the Monastery, we went to Native Seeds/SEARCH.  It was a small but interesting facility with the chief function of storing seed.  One plant that caught my eye was Gossypium thurberi, wild desert cotton. 



The small flowers were delicate and lovely with their fuchsia pink spots.  I did some investigation and I found that this species only makes a few fibers in its seed capsules, so it will never be grown for textile purposes.  Its leaves are said to turn bright red in late autumn.  It seems like a lovely ornamental that will deal with a lot of drought.

We also saw Zea mexicana, teosinte.  As you may know, this is the forebear of modern corn.  The seeds look more like pebbles than corn kernels, but this plant certainly has shaped the world more than most.

  

The plant is like a miniature corn plant that hints at its potential.  In the axils of the leaves are a few silks, with now sign of the ears of corn seen on its progeny.  I like the use of tiles for plant labels.  It's very appropriate to the surroundings.  Yes, I realize that I moved mexicana from subspecies to species level.  I'm only going with the name that USDA now uses for the plant.

GWA: Citrus and Dates

After arriving in Tucson for the Garden Writers Association Symposium, I was ready to see new gardens and new plants.  I participated in a panel Saturday morning after breakfast and a wonderful keynote from Petey Mesquitey.  The panel was great.  Kirk Brown, who played the part of Merlin the wizard, moderated our session on the future of sustainability for consumers.  He placed me with Rosalind Creasy and Casey Sclar.  Ros is undoubtedly the foremost expert in edible landscaping and Casey has lead the vanguard of the sustainability movement at public gardens.  I was really flattered to be able to speak with them.  By all accounts it was a success. 

After picking up a box lunch, we set off for our first tour.  The first stop was the Benedictine Sisters Monastery.  The Sisters have several cottage industries and they cultivate citrus and dates.  The citrus trunks are painted white to help them avoid sunscald.  We all wanted to buy date products, but the dates are not yet ripe. 

The clusters of ripening fruits against the deep blue sky was enchanting.  I'd love to have a taste when they are ripe.  I know that dates are typically pollinated by hand.  I wonder if the Sisters do the pollinating.  

Boxwood Society Meets at Arboretum

It's been 10 years or so since the American Boxwood Society has met at the Arboretum.  Even though we didn't have newly refurbished meeting space available as we had hoped we would, we couldn't have picked a more beautiful day to host.  We had planned to spend a good deal of time in the National Boxwood Collection, and the weather cooperated.  Curator Lynn Batdorf provided a tour, highlighting the latest developments.  He's been working steadily on removing old layers that have rooted and grown into neighboring plants.  In the process he unearthed this wonderful prostrate form of boxwood.  It's a wonderfully irregular octopus of a boxwood that is quite old and no taller than eight inches. 

Dr. Richard Olsen was there also.  He's been working on Catalpa, and they obliged by displaying some fine fall foliage.  He was there to talk about the work he has just started to try to find resistance to boxwood blight caused by Cylindrocladium pseudonaviculatum and breed new boxwood with resistance to the disease.  He'll continue to work on Catalpa, too.  This tree is interesting because of the large burl on the trunk, and it has a witches broom on it that Richard has propagated.

Oak Detective

We've been losing many of our oaks at the Arboretum.  We've also been looking for a reason for their death.  Sure, there are the customary oak problems, Armillaria and Phytophthora on some, Hypoxylon and ambrosia beetles on others, and every other combination you might be able to think of.  We've had all the experts look at declining oaks on the property, but so far, no pattern has been established to explain what is going on. 

I happened to be out looking at something else with Kevin, and he directed me to the north side of the Azalea Collections where I met a chain saw wielding expert from the Forest Service.  He had cut down a small chestnut oak, Quercus prinus, and had collected all kinds of samples.  It looked a bit like a crime scene with evidence collection taking place. 

Chris Carley, on the right below was there and has been a key player in bringing forestry types and plant pathologists to the Arboretum to collect data that might point to a cause or causes for the loss of our oaks.  He's also been monitoring our property carefully for emerald ash borer and Asian longhorned beetle.  I'm happy to report that neither have been found so far, but Chris's work as part of the American Public Gardens Association's Sentinel Plant Network is a key part of keeping ahead of new pest and disease problems.  

Even though we haven't found a pattern to the oak deaths, careful observation and data collection will help us understand what is going on.  It might be a natural cycle of death that is part of the progression toward climax forest, or there may be underlying causes that we can diminish to help our oaks survive.

Very Hairy



I bought a bunch of Achimenes this spring because I once had them and really enjoyed them, and they were easy to care for because they went dormant over the winter, eliminating the hassle of carrying them over under lights.  When I placed my order, I also got some Eucodonia 'Adele' rhizomes.  They have finally bloomed, and although lovely, the flowers aren't the main attraction in my opinion.

It's the leaves.  Pinkish red cotton-candy like hairs cover the underside of the leaves, pleasantly thicker at the veins.  The tops of the leaves have a bit sparser covering of white hairs.  

Makes you wonder what would drive this species to put so much of its energy into hairs.  I'm guessing that it foils insect pests since it is so much thicker on the underside of the leaves than it is on the tops.  I don't think it is protection from sun or water loss, since there isn't enough on the upper leaves to help filter strong light or prevent transpiration.



Rickrack Cactus and Comb Fern

Forest has been watering the deck plants now, and I've missed some developments.  The Epiphyllum anguliger, rickrack cactus or queen of the night,  has quickly budded in response to the longer nights and cooler weather.  It's burst into bloom to welcome autumn.  The fragrance is wonderful, and there will be many flowers this year.  I've loved this plant.  The cladodes (stems modified to function like leaves) do indeed look like rickrack, and they remind me of Grandma Aker's aprons, which were always adorned with rickrack. 

I did notice something amazing weeks ago.  The rickrack cactus has a pot mate.  Several years ago, I purchased a Schizaea dichotoma,comb fern, from Meehan's Miniatures at the Bonsai Festival.  It grew in a pot with another fern and promptly died when exposed to low humidity indoors.  Now it has inexplicably appeared in the very rootbound pot of the rickrack cactus.  It's an interesting fern.  The genus Schizaea is thought to represent a link between the whisk ferns and other ferns.  At any rate, it must be a very covert fern, since I never noted spores on the fern that died, and both a male and female gametophyte must have been growing with the cactus and united to form the new fern.  I've thought about putting it in another pot or terrarium, but I think I'll leave well enough alone.





Evening Primrose Boardwalk

I like plants that are beautiful even in difficult circumstances.  It's been a tough year for many plants, but for some reason, Oenothera biennis, common evening primrose, has done well.  I took this picture a few paces from my temporary office in the trailer near the greenhouse.  The plant was growing up through a crack in the boardwalk that leads from the back door to the paved loop drive around the greenhouse.  I remember this plant as a child.  It grew tall, even in the semiarid conditions of Western South Dakota.  I often collected the abundant seeds and pretended they were coffee grounds.  Although it can be weedy, it is native, and it's a fun plant to watch in the evening since the flowers open very quickly at dusk. 

Something Enjoyed the Summer Heat

My Colocasia gigantea, giant elephant ear, certainly has enjoyed the heat of this torrid summer.  It's bounced between this spot between two decks and a corner of the basement for several years.  Last year, I waited to dig it until after Thanksgiving.  I felt it would die for sure, since ice had invaded its tissues.  Needless to say, it was fine.  The leaves are a yard wide and longer.  This plant was acquired in a trip to the Memphis Botanic Garden, where a plant had managed to set viable seed and they were able to germinate many small plants.  When I got it, it had a single leaf about five inches long.  It benefits from daily watering when the deck plants get watered.  Now it fills this ten by ten foot space very nicely. 

It has also bloomed reliably.  Although the flowers are large as one might expect them to be, they are curiously delicate, reminding me of a pale royal maiden that is careful to avoid any exposure to sun.  So far, the fruits have not managed to mature here in Maryland.   

Rain Lily Watering Weekend

I drew watering duty the last Sunday in August.  More often than not, my watering days are the most miserable, hot days of summer, but I lucked out this time.  It was cloudy and humid and rained near the end of the day.  I like to scout the situation late in the week before I water to see if there are any plants that I have questions about caring for over the weekend.  An early morning foray into Polyhouse 8 revealed and explosion of bloom in two very crowded pots of rain lilies.  There was no label, so I couldn't tell you what they are in terms of species or cultivar, but they are Zephyranthes of some sort.  I think I took these pictures on Thursday, and I was looking forward to seeing them again Sunday.  I remember wondering why they aren't more popular.

By Sunday, I was reminded why they aren't a mainstay in gardens.  The flowers had all faded in just a few hot days, not to appear again until next year. Maybe their short visit makes them more special, and I'm reminded that I don't generally grow many plants that bloom all season because their constant shouts for attention get a bit tiresome. This plant is like that old dear friend that you only get to see once a year for a short period of time.

My Blue Glory

There are plants that are so captivating that I need to find them again when I have lost them.  I got my first Thunbergia battiscombei at a Friends of the National Arboretum Plant Sale many years ago.  I think it got lost when I moved. 

I remembered this spring how well it had held up in the heat and I had to have it back.  I found it at Kartuz Greenhouses and they sent me a small plant.  I potted it up and stuck under the plant light, and it promptly lost its leaves, but sent forth a vigorous sprout from somewhere below the soil surface.  After it got outdoors and experienced the full heat of a concrete porch in full sun in a hot Maryland summer, it grew rapidly. 

I now can put words to my fondness for this plant.  First, the color of the flowers.  Not really violet, not really blue, but saturated.  There's nothing quite the same color, and the deep yellow throat of each flower flaunts that particular shade of blue.  The visual effect is cooling on the hottest day.  The pod-like buds are really interesting, with their network of veins and hairiness.  I like how the flowers burst out of them one day and are gone the next.  And it doesn't vine like other Thunbergia species, so it is just tidier and needs less space.

Not Your Grandma's Gloxinia

When we returned to Maryland, I was aware of the derecho that caused millions to be without power.  I knew that my home was one of those without electricity.  Aside from being thankful that I had cleared almost everything out of the refrigerator and freezer before vacation and that I didn't have to try to sleep in the sweltering heat, I worried a bit about my plants.

After last summer's heat caused the death of most of my Streptocarpus, I resolved to keep them and a few other gesneriads in the plant room near the window and open the vent to provide them with some cool circulating air for the hottest months.  With the power out, that was not to be.  And the plant caregiver misunderstood my instructions and gave them no water after the power outage. With no air conditioning and no open windows, I hate to think how hot it got in that plant room.  Most of the Streptocarpus were gone, but the two Sinningia plants perked up after I watered them.  Just a couple of weeks later, this one was in full bloom; the only damage it suffered was the shriveling of about half the flower buds.  I moved it to my bedroom window.  I've struggled to find the cultivar name.  I know I got it from The Violet Barn, but they don't have it right now.  I think it is 'San Pedro' or something like that.

This is a vital location for this gardener.  It is the first plant I commune with each morning, and I need something in this spot that will say good morning to me and help me shake off the deep morning drowsiness I feel when I wake earlier than I really want to so I can beat traffic headed toward Washington, DC.  I'm reminded once again of my admiration of plants with storage organs, since it has a corm.  It was hardly harmed by some very neglectful conditions.  Prior to growing it in the open, I kept it in a terrarium where it struggled with too little light and not enough room.  The leaves have been lovely even when it hasn't been in bloom. 

I Really Cotton to This Plant!

Sorry.  I couldn't resist the corny title.  I love cotton.  Sheets and clothing should be cotton.  Cotton swabs are very useful.  Cotton is fun and soft, and some don't even know that it comes from a plant.  Indeed, when Germans first saw cotton imported from the Middle East and were told that it came from a plant, they conjured up a plant bearing tiny sheep, since surely the fibers were just a different type of wool.  Even now, the word for cotton in German is baumwolle, which means tree wool. 

We've long had a strain in the National Herb Garden with deep purplish leaves.  It's a great annual for filling space and coping with heat and drought.  In all the hot and humid weather we have had, it has grown lustily. 

The flowers are nice, too, and have the good sense to contrast with the dark leaves.  It would be too much for the cotton to be bright red, so it is the standard white color. 

It's a wonder that such a tough and lovely plant has not found its way into our gardens more often.  I guess there are a few reasons.  It grows only from seeds, and they are best planted where they are to grow.  It must only be planted when it really gets hot, June at the earliest in Washington, DC.  The flowers don't sit proudly atop the foliage, and each one lasts just a day or two.  Maybe someone needs to do some breeding for beauty here.  And I guess those wishing to be self sufficient could easily make their own cotton balls.



Friendship Garden Hibiscus

The crimson eyed rosemallow, Hibiscus moscheutos, has done very well this year.  We've had the heat that it relishes, and just enough rainfall and irrigation.  This swath growing in the Friendship Garden is a favorite.  I'm not sure what the cultivar is, but I think it might be 'Lady Baltimore'.  It's a carefree informal kind of perennial that is perfectly appropriate for the laid back summer garden.

A close look reveals the column along which the abundance of stamens are held and the five pistils.  In this view you can also see that the petals don't quite overlap at the base and you get the full effect of the saturated color that gives us the common name crimson eyed.  It's a great plant for chronically saturated soils, and can be used very effectively with spring plants since it is among the last perennials to emerge and begin growing in spring, sometimes waiting until mid to late May to wake from dormancy.  Another plant for the list of tough and lovelies.

Spruce and Smoke

We avoided Yellowstone.  We just didn't have time, and I've grown to value the route less travelled.  We did go through Jackson and then over Togwotee Pass.  We made a pit stop just to the east of the pass and I was awed with the beauty of the Pinnacle Buttes in the distance.  The site was very pleasant with lots of white spruce, Picea glauca. Undoubtedly a very nice place to camp.

Not far down the road is Dubois, Wyoming.  I remember passing through here when I was a child on a family trip.  I remembered that my parents really liked this town, and I wanted to see why.  It is situated roughly where the forest gives way to the desert, and the Wind River cuts a strip of verdant green through the barrenness.  I think the main reason that they liked the town is that it is small and not very crowded with tourists.  Not many miles later, we ran into thick smoke from a fire on the other side of the Wind River Range. We came out of the smoke just before Riverton, had dinner, and then headed north to our lodging in Thermopolis.  I was looking forward to the very dramatic Wind River Canyon.  The drama was enhanced by a second pass through the smoke, and the canyon had an eerie quality.  Below is a picture of the canyon.  That's the sun just about to set over the mountain.  Little of its energy was getting through.  It was noticeably cooler where the smoke was dense.

Snake River Canyon Flowers

Next to the last day of our side trip.  It's been a whirlwind, but it's been fun.  We made a pit stop in Snake River Canyon not long after we passed from Idaho into Wyoming.  It was very dry here, and rocky, but the waters of the river are not far underground, and two drought adapted plants were blooming nicely.

Scarlet gilia, Ipomopsis aggregata, was in full bloom.  The downy stuff on the plants is the fluff from willow seeds that were dispersed recently from shrubby willows growing on the stream bank. 

The flowers are checker-spotted, a detail that is lost on most.  They must be hummingbird pollinated, but we never saw any hummingbirds, and I had a tough time getting a few good shots since it was very breezy.  They were probably not out, since I can't imagine how they could fight the constant wind.

Sulfur buckwheat, Eriogonum umbellatum, was here in force as well.  The flowers were done, and the fruits had turned the most appealing shade of coral pink.  This is a very widespread and variable species.  Some botanists list more than forty subspecies. I admire this one, but didn't take the time to figure out which subspecies it might be.