Seven Weeks

July 12 & August 30

What a difference seven weeks can make! Updates regarding the Memorial Tree in Felton Covered Bridge Park are typically posted annually about the twelfth of July. Growth is obvious after a year. I did not expect it to be so obvious after less than two months between the twelfth of July and the thirtieth of August. I suppose that I should not be surprised. Even after most growth occurs through spring, some growth continues through late summer, and perhaps as late as the beginning of autumn, immediately prior to the slow initiation of dormancy for winter. Specimens of this species, valley oak, Quercus lobata, are innately vigorous and grow faster and more vertically while young. Growth decelerates and redirects itself laterally as trees mature and age. Otherwise, if they continued to grow as vigorously as they do while young, they would collapse from their own weight before they get to be as old as elderly trees get. Some live for more than six centuries, so their technique is obviously effective. Four nearby California black oaks, Quercus kelloggii, are not likely to get to be five centuries old, and are more likely to live for only one or two centuries. Unfortunately, two of them are not in comparably exemplary condition. One must be pruned for removal of major necrosis, and direction of new growth. Another requires major structure pruning. All four should be pruned for clearance above the surrounding parking lot. Perhaps I should be more concerned with these four California black oaks now that the Memorial Tree will need nothing for quite a while. Perhaps I should investigate the condition of the Monterey cypress Memorial Trees within the nearby Memorial Grove, which are growing well enough that surrounding box elders should be pruned away to relinquish more space for them.

August 30 zoomed out

See Anemone

Anemone hupehensis

Japanese anemone, Anemone hupehensis, which is now Eriocapitella hupehensis, is one of several species that I had been wanting to grow for a very long time. Like peony, goldenrod, Joe Pye weed, Indian paintbrush, beautyberry and fancy hybrids of clematis, they are prominent features of fancier gardens in other regions. Some of such species do not perform well here. Others are merely unpopular, but might perform well here if they get the chance. I see them all only in pictures, so can not distinguish what their respective situations are. The only anemones that I had ever encountered while young were sea anemones on nearby beaches. In college, I met poppy anemones, which we know merely as anemone, but found that they are not as reliably perennial as they are purported to be. Japanese anemone had been elusive, until I met a very established and perhaps invasive colony of it in an old landscape near Oakland less than fifteen years ago. I figured that if it can be as happy as it was in a relatively coastal climate, it could be happier here with a bit more chill during winter. Until then, I assumed that minimal chill was a limiting factor to their performance here. ‘Honorine Jobert’ seemed to be the epitome of single white Japanese anemone, but I had not seen any white cultivars, even those with double flowers, that were not alluring. Then, I discovered an unidentified cultivar of Japanese anemone on the edge of a rose garden here. It survives as a remnant of a preceding perennial garden, but does not perform well now that redwood roots have become so aggressive. Furthermore, its floral color is unimpressive. It is not white, but is not quite pink either. Heck, it is not even white blushed with pink. I do not know how to describe it. Initially, it seemed to be only slightly pinkish pale gray. Ick! This year, it seems to be slightly more pinkish than it had been, which makes it slightly less disappointing. However, now that I know it is here, I will not try any other Japanese anemone until I at least try to grow this one well. I am confident that if I relocate bits of it to a garden where it does not need to compete with other vegetation, it will bloom with a more appealing shade of pink. I will not mind that it is not white if it does that much. Then, if it can perform well, I will know that I can grow a white cultivar of anemone also. There is no rush though. Although white happens to be my favorite color, and Japanese anemone happens to excel at white, pink can be appealing also. This is my very first Japanese anemone, and regardless of how unimpressive it is now, I am pleased with it.

Six on Saturday: Too Much or Not Enough

Propagation without adequate propagation infrastructure can be disappointing. It might alternatively be a bit too rewarding. I prefer to propagate excessively, to compensate for expected losses. Consequently, I generate surplus much more often than I encounter any disappointment. One of the disappointments this week is actually the result of a surplus that occurred too late within the growing season of that particular species. I managed to find three other disappointments for half of these Six, but they are relatively minor, and should eventually be resolved prior to autumn. Even then, because these three particular species are vulnerable to chill while young, I intend to shelter them through winter. The surplus can eventually be shared with neighbors. It all works out.

1. Passiflora racemosa, red passion flower vine pruning debris was processed into a flat of thirty-six cuttings. I suspected that only a few would survive, but I was wrong. Oh my!

2. Citrus paradisi ‘Marsh’ grapefruit cuttings were initially about as numerous, but very few survived. They defoliated, and are still vulnerably dinky. They are ungrafted anyway.

3. Mentha spicata, mint is still going. There was already too much months ago, but I still plug its trimmings as cuttings. I should stop now. I should have stopped before I started.

4. Vanilla planifolia, vanilla is still doing nothing. Only this one of five cuttings survives. Its single exposed bud has been inactive for months. Perhaps a lower bud is doing more.

5. Borago officinalis, borage grew unexpectedly from expired seed that got tossed. These thirty-six, which are now in a filled flat, are too many at the end of their growing season.

6. Musa acuminata ‘Popo’Ulu’ banana is the eighteenth of twenty cultivars here, but this is its first new leaf since its arrival. It must grow more prior to autumn to survive winter.

This is the link for Six on Saturday, for anyone else who would like to participate: https://thepropagatorblog.wordpress.com/2017/09/18/six-on-saturday-a-participant-guide/

Horridculture – Hackers (again)

Is it really too much work to not leave such stubs while destroying a hedge?!

It has been quite a while since I posted anything that qualifies for the theme of ‘Horridculture’. Such topics are not only unpleasant, but have become redundant and passe. They are annoyingly frequent reminders of how several of the horticultural industries attract too many of those who either lack practical experience or simply do not care about their work. I can not even remember how many times I wrote about hackers, which is why I did not assign a number to this title. I can see that I addressed this issue as recently as February. Nonetheless, because this particular incident involves a Prunus laurocerasus, cherry laurel hedge that we have been renovating for a few years, it is difficult to ignore. The formerly severely overgrown hedge had been responding somewhat slowly but otherwise adequately to its renovation, all behind a reasonably presentable facade. Actually, until recently, the facade had become tidier and denser than it had ever been before. Then, a tree service was hired to clear some adjacent unmanaged vegetation. The objective was to remove vegetation from an area that is to be paved for dumpsters. There was no concern for the quality of the work, since remnants of such vegetation can be managed or removed later. The problem is that those who performed the task also removed a significant portion of the facade of the hedge beyond the area from which unmanaged vegetation needed to be removed. What is worse is that it was done so horridly. I do not remember seeing any proper cuts. All involved stems were stubbed and gashed. I can only guess that whoever did this expected the hedge to be removed later. I can not be certain of that, since complete removal within one process would have been less work than such thorough disfigurement. I mean that someone put a great deal of effort into disfiguring the hedge this severely. Fortunately, the hedge will eventually recover. I removed the stubs and neatened what remains, and will try not to look at it for the next several months. The tree service that did this actually removes unwanted trees for us efficiently and safely. Their arborists are quite experienced and qualified for what they do. I just do not want them to do anything else.

Someone put a great deal of effort into this degree of damage.

Out with the new, in with the old

Canna ‘Cannova Mango’

Canna ‘Cannova Mango’ is a relatively recent introduction to the landscapes here. I inadvertently brought it back from Southern California about two and a half years ago, without realizing that it is exactly the sort of modern cultivar that I am not at all keen on. It is new. It is improved. It blooms with a strange but trendy color. The problem is that it performs too well to not be an asset to the landscapes. Because it is so short and compact, it starts blooming early, while old fashioned Canna are still only foliar. Because it replaces older stalks with newer stalks so efficiently, it is rarely without bloom until frost. Other cultivars of the series bloom yellow, lemon (which is implied to be distinct from yellow), orange shades (?), red golden flame (?!), rose, scarlet with bronze foliage or orange with bronze foliage. The tallest are less than five feet tall. Regardless of my disdain for modern cultivars, I do not doubt that all of them perform as impressively as ‘Cannova Mango’. Nonetheless, I prefer the older and formerly common sort. A relatively compact cultivar that stays less than about four feet tall with simple green foliage and billowy but simple red bloom has been relocated through a few landscapes here since the early 1980s. Although not many rhizomes survive, I intend to grow more of it, even if not so much within the landscapes at work. Its bloom begins a bit later, and is neither as profuse nor as continuous as that of ‘Cannova Mango’, but it has history here. Besides, its more relaxed foliar texture and bloom somehow seem to be more compatible with the surrounding forested setting than the almost too refined modern cultivars, with their perfectly compact form, overly profuse bloom, and strangely modern floral color.

Unidentified old fashioned red Canna with green foliage.

Yucca whipplei Seed

Yucca whipplei seed is likely more rare in cultivation than in the wild.

Yucca whipplei, which is now known as Hesperoyucca whipplei, should not be so difficult to procure. It is the most common species of the genus within the next few hundred miles south of here, and was quite common in the hills around San Luis Obispo, where Brent and I studied horticulture at California Polytechnic State University (Cal Poly). I should have taken pups from wild specimens within the region, but I know of no one with wild specimens within their gardens. I can only see them from a distance, and, although within view, they are far enough away to necessitate quite a hike to get to. I never bothered to procure pups from specimens that I encounter directly in the Santa Monica Mountains north of Beverly Hills because they might be a different variety, or related to such a variety. Contrary to dramatic bloom, seed of the species is supposedly rare because the larvae of its very specialized pollinating moth devour almost all of the seed that develops from successful pollination. (The moth pollinates a flower only to provide seed for its larvae to eat.) Seed should be even more rare here because the specialized pollinating moth has no business so far from the natural range of its sustaining species. Somehow, a specimen that bloomed at work produced these few seed capsules. Someone else besides the specialized pollinating moth apparently took interest in its bloom. Although I have no idea what variety of Yucca whipplei the particular specimen is, I am pleased with the seed, and will try to grow them if they are viable when their capsules dry. (I hope that removal from their deteriorating stalk does not compromise their development.) Furthermore, I will get at least one pup from the original parent now that it will generate a litter after its monocarpic bloom. It is likely the variety that I want and am most familiar with anyway, because that particular variety happens to be the most common. Of course, I will procure a pup from a wild specimen within the region of San Luis Obispo if I ever get the opportunity to do so, just in case it is any different from what is growing and now blooming here.

Six on Saturday: Off Color

Perennial pea, lily of the Nile and dahlia displayed aberration of color earlier and started a trend.

1. Eriocapitella hupehensis, Japanese anemone is enviable in other gardens. I neglect to remember that a minor bit of it survives in one of our landscapes. I ignore it because it is such a grungy almost grayish white without enough blush to be pink. I should see how it blooms now and then relocate it to a better situation where it might develop better color.

2. Hypoestes phyllostachya, polka dot plant is typically spotty with either white or pink. Two of seventy-two cell pack plugs exhibited this darker pinkish red. I got copies of it to perhaps grow as houseplants, at least until they will be happy in the garden next spring.

3. Chrysanthemum X morifolium, florist’s chrysanthemum seems to change color like a dahlia that I got a picture of last week. I thought that it bloomed orange last year, which was a surprise after it bloomed rusty red two years ago. I must not remember accurately.

4. Phlox paniculata, garden phlox has bloomed exclusively white since it arrived here by unknown means a few years ago. Although I have been very pleased with its white color, and white happens to be my favorite color, I am also pleased with this new pink variant.

5. Amaryllis belladonna, naked lady did the opposite. It had always bloomed exclusively bright pink. Then, I found and isolated a few bulbs of a white blooming variant last year. An associate found two more in the same location this year. I like it much more in white!

6. Rhody is canine so lacks perception of red, which is the basis of these off colors. Most have more than they should, and one has none. Rhody sees them only as shades of gray.

This is the link for Six on Saturday, for anyone else who would like to participate: https://thepropagatorblog.wordpress.com/2017/09/18/six-on-saturday-a-participant-guide/

Tabasco

Dahlia ‘Tabasco’

Annuals, as their designation implies, complete their respective life cycles within one year. Perennials, as their designation implies, can survive perennially, for more than one year. However, some bedding plants that are enjoyed as annuals actually have potential to be perennials. They are only as disposable as annuals because they are less appealing during dormancy or whatever season in which they do not perform so exemplarily. Most who enjoy gardening do not mind. Perennials that are designated as perennials but do not perform for more than a year are more disappointing. Of a few dahlias that the other horticulturist here purchased a few years ago, four were two pairs of bedding dahlias, which typically function as annuals, and one was a rather expensive perennial ‘Cafe au Lait’ dahlia. ‘Cafe au Lait’ rotted within its first season of minimal bloom. I was not at all keen on it anyway, and was even less keen on its lack of perennial performance. One pair of bedding dahlia, which I do not remember the name of, bloomed for two years, with bright yellow flowers against light green foliage. They would have bloomed again this year if I had stored them better and put them back into the landscape sooner. I forget about the stored dahlia tubers because we typically do not dig and store them here. The other pair of bedding dahlia was ‘Tabasco’. It originally bloomed with red flowers striped with orange, against dark green foliage. For the following year, it blooms with yellow flowers blotched with orange, against simpler green foliage. Now, for its third year, it blooms more like it appears in pictures, with simpler red flowers against bronzed foliage. I do not mind its variability, and actually find it to be interesting. I am more impressed by its perennial performance.

Exposure

Sunshine promoted bloom to the left. Shade inhabited bloom to the right.

Naked ladies like exposure. Amaryllis belladonna can certainly survive and actually develop lushly healthy foliage in partial shade. However, it needs sunshine to bloom. This picture above, which was recycled from yesterday when I mentioned that I might elaborate on it later, demonstrates how discriminating this species is. As mentioned yesterday, a row of naked lady bulbs extends completely across the picture from left to right. It does not extend only from the left to the middle of the picture, as the bloom might imply. Now that bloom is finishing, foliage will develop throughout the entire row, including the portion of the row that currently lacks bloom, so that the extent of their herd will be more apparent. The lack of bloom to the right is the result of the shade of a densely foliated coast live oak above. Because coast live oak is evergreen, it shades the area below its canopy through winter, when naked lady is also foliated and storing resources for subsequent late summer bloom. Those that do not get sufficient sunshine to initiate bloom within any particular season will be unable to bloom for the beginning of their subsequent season. When we installed these recycled bulbs here, we considered that bloom would likely be inhibited below the coast live oak, and that we would relocate bulbs that were too shaded to bloom, but we expected more of a transition between the shaded area and the sunnier area. This is so blunt, with bloom to the left, but none to the right. At least we now know precisely which bulbs to relocate while they are dormant next summer. Although there is technically no need to relocate them, and they can be adequately healthy here, they would be more appealing within a sunnier situation that would promote bloom.

Madonna & Black Lace II

Sambucus nigra ‘Black Lace’ can produce a few berries without pollination from another cultivar.

The internet never ceases to amaze with its inefficiency of providing information that should be more readily available. Old fashioned horticultural texts and even encyclopedias were more reliable. I remember reading that elderberry could be self pollinating, but that it would be more productive with another cultivar of the same species. Because I could not remember what species of the genus that information was relevant to, I more recently tried to determine the requirements of each of the few species that I grow. Ultimately, it seems to me that all are about the same in regard to both their ability to self pollinate to a minimal degree, and their ability to pollinate more efficiently with other cultivars. However, I still do not know. Furthermore, I am now confused about the identity of American elderberry, which many sources insist is merely a variety of common black elderberry of Europe.

Sambucus caerulea, blue elderberry is native and too common for me to know or care if it is more productive with other genetically distinct specimens, which, since the species lacks cultivars, are merely other wild specimens. In other words, blue elderberry specimens here can not be adequately isolated from other specimens to determine how reliant they are on others for pollination. Regardless, I will grow about four together within my garden.

Sambucus racemosa, red elderberry is supposedly native here, but I have never seen it in the wild. Consequently, I do not know if other specimens are close enough to pollinate specimens within my garden. Rather than experiment with single and potentially isolated specimens, and because there is no need to separate the four specimens here anyway, I will grow all of them together within my garden. I am considering adding ‘Sutherland Gold’ or other ornamental cultivars in the future.

Sambucus canadensis, American elderberry is not native, so could be grown in isolation here. However, I want berries more than I want to know how reliant this species is on pollination from other genetically distinct specimens. Before I grow cultivars, I will grow about four specimens within my garden from seed. I might consider cultivars in the future, but for now, would prefer to grow them as most people within their native range experience them, and as I grow blue and red elderberries.

Sambucus nigra, black elderberry is a species that I find to be less interesting than the three North American species that I actually want to grow. However, I have grown ‘Black Lace’ at work for a few years, and recently got it ‘Madonna’ as a pollinator so that the two can make berries together. Because I grew several more copies of each than we can accommodate at work, I will likely grow a pair of each within my own garden. Both are ornamental cultivars that happen to also produce berries. However, formerly without a pollinator, ‘Black Lace’ has been fruitless. This year, one of the copies managed to make these few berries in the picture above without bloom from ‘Madonna’. I suppose that this is consistent with what I read about its ability to self pollinate somewhat. Now, I want to see what it does next year if ‘Madonna’ blooms well.

Four wild seed grown specimens of Sambucus racemosa, red elderberry that were a gift from Tangly Cottage Gardening have been canned for too long, and want to get into the garden.