Begonia boliviensis ‘Santa Cruz’ is one of those modern cultivars that I am typically not so keen on. It grows vigorously with abundant red bloom. ‘San Francisco’ is similar but with abundant pink bloom. ‘Santa Barbara’ is similarly similar but with abundant white bloom. All perform splendidly, like so many formerly modern cultivars that were trendy before them. I am not so keen on them merely because they are both modern and trendy. Their names do not help either. My colleague purchased ‘Santa Cruz’ from a nursery in Santa Cruz. It now lives here in Mount Hermon, which is a few miles away from Santa Cruz, but still in Santa Cruz County. I suspect that it is more popular locally because of its name. For the same reason, I suspect that ‘Santa Barbara’ is more popular in Santa Barbara, and ‘San Francisco’ is more popular in San Francisco. I also suspect that I would be less resistant to these modern cultivars if they had more appealing names, such as ‘Los Gatos’, ‘San Jose’ or ‘Palo Alto’. Perhaps the names are for the counties rather than the cities within the counties. All three of my recommendations are within Santa Clara County.
Florist carnation, Dianthus caryophyllus, is not originally as colorful as it seems. It can be red, pink, pastel yellow, pastel orange or nearly purple. Most for the floriculture industries begin as white though. White carnations are conducive to dying with any color that might be in demand. They are therefore more versatile than those with a different natural color.
Furthermore, their natural floral color range is not as natural as it seems. It is the result of extensive breeding of several species. Consequently, several popular types of carnation lack species designation. This includes a few compact cultivars that are more popular as annuals than cut flowers. Within locally mild climates, they can be short term perennials.
Border carnations grow only a few inches tall and less than a foot wide. Eventually, very old specimens may grow more than a foot tall. Such big specimens are very rare though. Border carnation foliage is glaucous bluish gray. The short and very narrow leaves are in opposing pairs. Flowers are less than two inches wide, with delightfully spicy fragrance of clove.
Roses from a home garden are not quite the same as roses from a florist or market. They mostly bloom on stems that are relatively thinner and shorter. Floral and foliar blemishes are more likely. As they unfurl, they can get a bit wider and disperse more fragrance. One of the more obvious differences is their seasonality. They are unavailable through winter.
Florist roses are likewise different from garden roses. They are not as limited by season, so are available at any time of year. Their elegantly straighter stems are relatively longer and a bit heftier. Blemishes are rare. Buds are generally plumper and likely to last longer, but may not unfurl completely. They are typically relatively narrow and a bit less fragrant.
Environmental factors cause most of the differences. Home garden roses develop with a relatively natural exposure to weather. Florist roses develop within synthetic greenhouse environments without natural weather. However, genetics cause some of the differences. Florist roses are not the same cultivars that are available from nurseries for landscaping.
The same applies to several florist quality potted plants. They also grow within unnatural environments. They also are cultivars that perform well for their specific purpose. Some cultivars are impractical for landscapes. Some take quite a while to adapt to landscapes. Many that are seasonally popular for particular Holidays may not last for long afterward.
Most azaleas and hydrangeas are landscape cultivars. Some are florist cultivars though. Landscape cultivars that grew outside in nurseries adapt efficiently to landscapes. Florist cultivars that grew in greenhouses take more time or may not adapt. Those that do might bloom with lavishly large florist type flowers. Such bloom may not be resilient to weather.
Several cultivars of florist carnations and chrysanthemums are also landscape cultivars. Florist lilies are the same that are seasonally available as dormant bulbs from nurseries. Adaptation to a garden can be stressful, especially for those that bloomed out of season. However, once they adapt, they might perform for several years as short term perennials.
Mirabilis jalapa is known more commonly as four o’clock. It is spelled with letters rather than as 4:00 with numbers. This refers to the time in the afternoon when its bloom should be at its best. These pictures were taken prior to nine in the morning though. Apparently, it does not adhere to a strict schedule. I took these pictures because I was so impressed with the performance of these particular specimens. Those with yellow bloom above are so large that I came from across the road to confirm their identity. I do not expect this species to grow so large. They are about as big as small oleander! Those with white and pink bloom below are actually the same plant. The species commonly blooms with flowers of different colors, but such colors are typically not so divergent as clear bright pink and clear white. They are more typically blotched with colors of each other, such as white flowers with a few pink blotches in conjunction with pink flowers with a few white blotches. This species is somewhat naturalized here, but politely so. Although it generates copious seed, it is not migrating very far from where it is established.
‘Khartoum’ (Agapanthus orientalis ‘Khartoum’) is a blend of Blue Nile and White Nile.
Khartoum is located where the Blue Nile River merges with the White Nile River to become the Nile River. Lily of the Nile, contrary to its name, is neither a lily nor native to any of the three Nile Rivers. It is in the Amaryllidaceae Family, and is native to Southern Africa. Coincidentally though, it naturally blooms either blue or white. It really seems like it should be native to at least two of the Nile Rivers, with those that bloom white inhabiting the floodplains of the White Nile River, and those that bloom blue inhabiting the floodplains of the Blue Nile River. Perhaps both should inhabit the floodplains of the primary Nile River. Like a few other species that bloom exclusively true blue or white, lily of the Nile sometimes exhibits sports, which are mutant growth, that bloom with the other of the two options. In other words, those that bloom blue sometimes produce a shoot that blooms white, and conversely, those that bloom white sometimes produce a shoot that blooms blue. As if genetically unstable, such sports may revert to their original floral color by the following season, and before they divide into several shoots that bloom prominently with aberrative floral color within their otherwise florally monochromatic colonies. When I noticed a single white bloom within an exclusively blue blooming colony, I did not want to wait for the following season to see what its intentions were. Then, as bloom faded and I separated it from the colony, I found that it was blushed with blue, as if already trying to revert. Because it is impossible to confirm its intentions, I canned it and set it aside to see what it does in the future. If blue, it can return to the landscapes with the random mix of blue lily of the Nile that has been accumulating as long as they have inhabited landscapes here. If white, it will be given to neighbors, because I want to maintain the genetic purity of the single white cultivar that is here. If it remains white with pale blue blush, it might get a separate but prominent position within a landscape.
The first and last may potentially suggest that this is an episode of the Red Green Show.
1. Hedychium greenii, red butterfly ginger, which I accidentally took from Brent Green’s garden with a bunch of crowded out Heliconia psittacorum, is now about to bloom here. I was totally unaware that it was here until Brent mentioned that it was no longer there.
2. Hedychium gardnerianum, kahili ginger bloomed during the pandemic, while no one was here to see it. Then, gophers ate it. I canned the remnants, which are blooming now. This is the first of several florets to bloom on the first tall floral spike. It smells like 1986.
3. Agapanthus orientalis, lily of the Nile suddenly bloomed with this single white umbel within an exclusively blue colony. I removed the offending shoot as bloom began to fade, but found that it is not completely white. I canned it to observe how it blooms next year.
4. Begonia boliviensis ‘Santa Cruz’ begonia was not my idea. Another horticulturist here just procured it from a nursery in Santa Cruz, a few miles away. It is quite happy here in Santa Cruz County. It deserves a more appealing name, such as ‘Los Gatos’ or ‘San Jose’.
5. Canna ‘Cannova Mango’ canna was not my idea either. Brent sent it to me. I am not at all keen on modern cultivars, particularly this color. I nonetheless divided it too much to bloom well. This is its first opportunity to demonstrate how profuse its bloom should be.
6. Canna that was a gift from friends of a friend last winter is now blooming here. I have no idea what cultivar it is, and I do not care. Gifts are always better than nursery surplus from Brent’s projects. It is elegantly tall with simple red bloom and simple green foliage.
Poor man’s rhododendrons is less colorful but more perennial than the more popular busy Lizzie Impatiens walleriana.
The nursery industry is so innately unsatisfactorily lucrative, that to us nurserymen, a ‘poor man’s rhododendron’ is any rhododendron that we grow. To everyone else, it is Imaptiens sodenii, a tender perennial that gets to six feet tall and wide or even larger on plump, softly succulent stems. It succumbs to even mild frost in winter, but regenerates rapidly by summer. It prefers partial shade, and can roast if too exposed to direct sunlight on warm days. Too much shade is rarely a problem.
The two inch wide flowers are typically very pale shades of pink, lavender or slightly blushed white. At least one modern variety has brighter white flowers with reddish pink centers. Bloom continues as long as weather is warm. The seed capsules are not much to look at, but explode to disperse their seeds when disturbed. The soft, rich green leaves are about three to six inches long.
Even cacti are susceptible to scald if their exposure changes.
Agave americana is a tough perennial that is naturally endemic to harsh desert climates. It not only survives, but is happy in awful heat and dry air without shade. However, a specimen that lived in my garden for about two years succumbed to sunburn and moderate heat in less than a day.
The problem was that it had been growing in a rather shady spot since it arrived. There was enough ambient sunlight to sustain it, but no direct exposure to sunlight. The typically stout steely blue leaves were consequently elegantly elongated and slightly twisted, but well adapted to their particular environment. This would not have been a problem, except that I dragged the plant out to relocate it.
In only a few hours, the leaves were roasted by exposure to sunlight. They melted and laid limp like steamed asparagus. Only the unfurled leaves in the middle remained turgid. By the next morning, the scorched leaf surfaces were already turning ashy white. Now, the desiccating foliage lays flat with slightly curled blackening edges, around the surviving meristem (terminal bud in the middle), like an angry starfish road kill taking its last gasp.
The good news is that the new foliage that eventually develops from within the presently unfurled middle leaves should adapt to the environment where the plant gets relocated to, even if the first leaves to open are not quite adapted. The bad news is that the damaged foliage cannot be salvaged, and will need to be cut before planting. I will put the plant deeper in the ground than the level it had been growing at so that the leaf stubs will be buried.
Just as people can get sunburned, plants that are sheltered can succumb to sunscald when they suddenly become too exposed. It does not always result from the particular plant getting moved, but sometimes happens when nearby plants or features change. For example, foliage of Japanese maples that have grown as understory plants to larger shade trees is susceptible to foliar sunscald if the larger trees get removed or pruned significantly. Replacing old large picture windows with more reflective windows to keep the interior cooler may reflect enough glare to the exterior to temporarily scald sensitive ferns. Aggressively pruning English walnut, avocado or silver maple trees in summer may expose sensitive bark of main limbs enough to cause bark scald.
Damage to foliage may linger as long as the foliage does, but is typically as temporary as the foliage is. Deciduous plants will drop the damaged foliage in autumn, and replace it with more adapted foliage in spring. Bark scald though can be a serious problem, since the bark is not so easily replaced in a year. One of my great grandfather’s old English walnut trees got sunscald on some main limbs when the tree was pruned for clearance from a room addition in about 1950, and remained damaged when the tree was removed about half a century later. The scalded bark decayed decades ago, exposing inner wood to decay.
Sambucus nigra ‘Black Lace’ European black elderberry
1984 was four decades ago. This is happening right now. Sambucus nigra ‘Black Lace’ European black elderberry, with intricately lacy and richly bronzed foliage, and flaring upright form, has inhabited one of the landscapes here for a few years. I was initially not so keen on it, but eventually learned to appreciate it as others who saw it expressed fondness for its distinctive texture and color. It was so popular that I grew a few too many copies from pruning scraps two winters ago, with the intention of adding a few more to other landscapes. I plugged a few more last winter, as if I did not know better. Several were shared with neighbors, but so far, only one was added to another landscape here, and only a few days ago. It may not look like much in the picture above, but should be a bit bigger and more richly bronzed next year. Sambucus nigra ‘Madonna’ European black elderberry, with simpler and yellowish variegated foliage, and somewhat more rounded form, was a more recent acquisition. Although I am not so keen on its yellowish color, it happened to become available while I was considering acquisition of a pollinator for ‘Black Lace’, which has not produced berries yet. Although each can self pollinate somewhat, different cultivars pollinate each other more effectively. Doves enjoy the resulting berries; and people enjoy seeing happy doves. The original specimen of ‘Madonna’ was thrashed when I acquired it, but provided more than sixteen rooted side shoot copies before going to live in a colleague’s garden. The first of these copies was installed adjacent to and in conjunction with the first copy of ‘Black Lace’. It may not look like much in the picture below, but it is just a dinky copy from a four inch pot.
Sambucus nigra ‘Madonna’ European black elderberry
Saint John’s wort is the common name of a few species of Hypericum. Hypericumbeanii sometimes gets the distinction of Bean’s Saint John’s wort. That sounds more like carob, Ceratoniasiliqua, though. Carob is the locust bean that sustained Saint John the Baptist in the desert. Mr. Bean was actually a respected botanist of the Royal Botanical Garden.
This Saint John’s wort is not as invasive as naturalized sorts, but is as resilient. Although rarely available from nurseries, it survives in old and neglected landscapes. Established specimens need no irrigation, but perform better with it. This species is likely rare merely because of its resemblance to invasive sorts. It propagates quite efficiently from cuttings.
Hypericumbeanii is a shrubby species, unlike more familiar ground cover types. It grows about two or three feet tall and wide. Its bright yellow flowers are about two inches wide, and bloom through summer. Foliage is deciduous where winter is cooler. Here, it is likely to linger until spring foliage replaces it. Partial shade is tolerable, but might inhibit bloom.
