Autumn Really Was For Planting

70531thumbIt is easy to see why there are optimum times to prune, and just as easy to see when pruning should not be done. Generally, deciduous plants prefer to get pruned while dormant and bare. They should not be pruned when actively blooming or making new foliage. Roots are of course not so easy to see. Do we really know what they are doing, or what sort of mischief they are getting into?

Autumn is the best time for planting most plants. They are less active than they had been earlier in the year, and many are going dormant. Either way, they do not need much. Once in the ground, their roots are kept cool and moist by the weather. They get to sit there all winter, as they slowly begin to disperse their roots to get ready for the following spring. It all fits into their natural life cycle.

Shopping habits, however, do not. By autumn, many plants are neither as pretty nor as tempting as they were earlier in the year. By winter, the weather keeps many of us inside, and out of nurseries. Now that it is spring, it is difficult to resist all the pretty plants that are blooming so delightfully. We are tempted to buy them compulsively, even if we have no immediate plans for them.

That is okay. We can make this work. Buying certain plants in bloom actually has certain advantages. It shows how and when particular plants bloom. This might be helpful when trying to decide between different cultivars of deciduous magnolias, flowering cherries, flowering crabapples or wisterias, for example. Besides, they will finish blooming quickly, and start to produce new foliage.

If planted before new foliage matures, new plants should be planted in cool weather, and maybe sprayed lightly with water after the roots get soaked in. This is best for drought tolerant plants like ceanothus, that want out of their cans (nursery pots) as soon as possible. If new plants stay in their cans long enough for foliage to mature, they must be watered carefully, but not kept saturated. The black vinyl cans should be shaded, since they get warm in sunlight.

Purple Leaf Plum

70308Of all the fruitless fruit trees, the purple leaf plum is the most popular here, but probably not for the obvious allure of its rich purplish or bronze foliage that maintains color until it falls in autumn. Purple leaf plum is simply so easy to grow. It does not need to be pruned as regularly as flowering peaches or flowering crabapples do. It is not as sensitive to sunscald as flowering cherries are.

Most purple leaf plums bloom with double or single pink flowers. Old varieties that bloom with white flowers are uncommon. Mature trees might get taller than a two story house, with nicely rounded canopies. Trees are usually pruned up onto single straight trunks, although mature trees in older landscapes might have a few sculptural trunks. Purple leaf plum want full sun and occasional watering.

Spring Blossoms Precede Summer Fruit

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Cherry blossoms are such an excellent tradition in Washington D.C., as well as in Japanese neighborhoods of the West Coast. ‘Kwanzan’ and ‘Akebono’ flowering cherries in Japantown of San Jose are glorious when they bloom early in spring. They are less common but just as spectacular in Los Angeles. More varieties grow in the cooler climates of Sacramento, Portland and Seattle.

Yet, after all the work the trees put into bloom, they produce no fruit. These prettiest of the cherry blossoms are sterile. They are known as ‘flowering’ cherries, which is a polite way of saying that they are ‘fruitless’. Cherry trees that produce fruit are very similar and bloom about as profusely, but do so with somewhat more subdued utilitarian flowers. After all, they have to work for a living.

Many of the deciduous fruit trees have ‘flowering’ counterparts that are grown for their showy flowers. Purple leaf plums, which are really flowering plums that happen to have purplish or bronze foliage, are the most popular because the foliage is so colorful after bloom. Flowering nectarines and flowering peaches are rare, but not as rare as flowering apricots and flowering almonds are.

Flowering crabapples are the counterparts to the entire fruiting apple group. They are not really sterile, so produce tiny fruits that mostly get eaten by birds. Flowering pears, which are commonly known as ‘ornamental’ pears, are grown more for their impressive autumn foliar color than for their potentially modest bloom. They also produce tiny fruits. The evergreen pear lacks autumn color. Flowering quince is an odd one. It is not even the same genus as fruiting quince.

Fruit trees bloom too. They may not be as colorful, but their simpler and paler blossoms are about as profuse as those of their flowering counterparts. Their stems are usually straighter and more vigorous because they are pruned for fruit production instead of allowed to develop naturally. A few stems can be left unpruned to be cut and brought in as cut flowers when they eventually bloom.

Whether flowering or fruiting, almonds and plums should bloom before pears and apples. There is no guarantee though. Weather can delay early bloomers, or accelerate late bloomers. Earlier frost promoted healthy bloom, but the subsequent abundance of rain is unfortunately ruining flowers that are blooming now. For fruiting trees, this means that much or all of the fruit will be ruined.00414

White Supremacy

winchesterMany people have a favorite color. I learned how seriously some people can take their preference for a particular color when I was in high school, and taking care of the yardwork for a few homes in the neighborhood. There were three tract homes next to each other. One was grayish blue, with a silvery blue Sedan deVille in the garage, and a garden of blue flowers. The middle house next door was soft amber yellow, with a buttery yellow Oldsmobile 98 in the garage, and a garden of exclusively yellow flowers. The house next door to that was iron oxide red, with an exquisite rich red Electra in the garage, and a garden of, you guessed it, red flowers.

The blue garden was the most challenging because true blue is not easy to find, and the big hydrangea kept trying to bloom pink in the slightly alkaline soil. Yellow was the easiest. There is no such thing as too many marigolds; and I really like nasturtiums! Red was my favorite because it included a few white flowers to contrast with the rich dark shades of red. Between the dark green juniper hedge and the deep red petunias, I grew a row of white petunias. A few white pansies got mixed with two shades of red pansies. I grew my first white geranium there, with several shades of pink and red. I really liked the white flowers.

Then I went to school with Brent. He was from a neighborhood with a purple Bonneville and an orange Caprice with a small dent in the driver side tail flank (which I can explain in another essay). Brent loves color! To him, white is only good for brightening dark areas or highlighting other colors. I can not argue with him. He is a landscape designer. I am primarily a grower. He knows a lot more about color than I do.

Well, by the 1990s, while I was growing citrus trees (which, incidentally bloom primarily white), ‘white gardens’ became a fad. How annoying! I always liked white; but loathed fads! I had this thing down long before it became a quaint coffee table book! It was mine! Brent thought that it was funny, especially since my garden had very little white in it. I would not give up my brightly colored nasturtiums and geraniums that I had taken with me to every home I lived in since childhood. I grew sunflowers, and yellow and orange gladiolus in front because they looked so good on my old apartment building. Too much white just would not have been right.

Eventually, I moved my blue lily-of-the-Nile and roses from a side yard that was not visible from out front, and planted only white flowers around a big white oleander tree. I had callas, daisies, iris, dahlias and white lily-of-the-Nile. There was not a lot of bloom at any one time, but there was enough for me to brag to Brent about. I had such attitude about it that Brent said it was more than a mere ‘white garden’. He said it was my ‘White Supremacy Garden’! Oh my! Take a look at the picture above. That is Brent and me back in the early 1990s. I am on the right. When we were in school, Brent would sometimes get marked absent at our night classes.

The Colors Of Karma

0407160708aThe statute of limitations allows me to discuss this now. It happened thirty years ago, in the spring of 1987. The famous landscape designer, Brent Green, was my roommate in the dorms at Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo. As the bearded iris started to bloom, Brent immediately noticed a bed of uniformly pink bearded iris off the edge of a lawn in the inner campus. He watched it bloom from beginning to end, and occasionally updated me on the progress. During the process, he convinced me that these iris were very rare. Neither of us had ever seen pink bearded iris before. We had no idea that they could easily be purchased from mail order catalogs or nurseries.

Late one warm spring night, Brent telephoned me from a landscape design lab where he had been working late. Back then, we answered a telephone when it rang. Before I could wake up enough to think about what I was doing, or just say “No.”, Brent convinced me to bring something that he needed from our room to the lab. Without thinking, I got dressed, grabbed his designated duffel bag and got on my way. I was sort of concerned that the duffel bag seemed to be empty. I figured that whatever was in it was very lightweight.

By the time I got to lab, Brent was in the lobby, and his associates were leaving. Brent did not seem to be interested in whatever was in the bag. He just thanked me for bringing it as we waked out as if to go back to the dorms. I was puzzled. As we walked, Brent explained that he only needed the bag, and confirmed that it really was as empty as I suspected. I was even more puzzled. I asked why he woke me up in the middle of the night to deliver an empty bag across campus. Well, in the few minutes it took for us to get this far into the conversation, we had arrived at the bed of pink iris. You can imagine what happened next.

Yes. Brent dropped the bag on the ground and began to stuff it full of all the bloomed-out iris rhizomes he could grab! Suddenly, I was very awake, and protested. He explained that now that the iris had finished blooming, they would be dug up and disposed of. What else could I do? I knew he was correct. I did not want to waste the iris. I also realized that panic would only draw attention, and that delaying the process would only increase the likelihood of getting busted. I pulled up as many rhizomes as I could hastily grab as well, and stuffed the bag until it was full. Brent was feeling rather satisfied as we walked back to the dorms. I was mortified.

The rhizomes got split and groomed, and eventually went into our mothers’ gardens. We each got about half. The following late winter and early spring, Brent would check in on his when he would go south for the weekend. I would check on mine when I would go north. They grew well, and fattened up to bloom. The stalks came up. The buds swelled. Then, finally, and with much anticipation, they bloomed! They were magnificent! They were glorious! They were spectacular! They were purple and yellow! WHAT?!?! Where was the pink? What happened? This is NOT FAIR! Wait a minute, . . . Could it be karma?

Thirty years later, we still grow these two bearded iris. They are known simply as ‘Karma Purple’ and ‘Karma Yellow’. We do not know their real names. A few years ago, they were joined by a nice tall ‘Karma White’, which was supposed to be a rusty red that I ‘borrowed’ from a neighbor. Neither Brent nor I have ever grown a pink iris.

Flowers Might Be Getting Scarce

70830thumbIt makes sense for flowers to bloom in spring. Winter is too cool, windy and damp for both flowers and the insects that pollinate many of them. By summer, successfully pollinated flowers have faded, are busy making seed to disperse in autumn. Some plants produce fruit to get birds and other animals to disperse their seed. There are certain advantages to blooming early in the spring.
Native plants that are endemic to chaparral climates are quicker with bloom, so that they finish before the air gets too arid. Desert plants might bloom for less than a week. Some tropical plants might bloom whenever they want to because they do not understand the concept of seasons, but they are not the prominent plants in our gardens. Therefore, flowers get scarce this time of year.
Besides the few perennials and annuals that bloom as long as the weather stays warm, there are not many plants that bloom reliably so late in summer. Belladonna lily, which is also known as naked lady, might be one of the flashiest, as its bright pink flowers bloom on top of bare stalks before the low basal foliage develops. It was actually dormant through the warmest part of summer.
Billowy and bold pampas grass flowers bloom this time of year, but are uncommon. The boldest type of pampas grass is too big and difficult to manage for home gardens. The smaller type has dingy tan flowers, and is so invasive and weedy that it is unavailable in nurseries. Those of us who have it in our gardens did not plant it. Other grasses with nice late flowers are not very colorful.
Russian sage has become one of the more popular late blooming perennials. More traditional Japanese anemone, goldenrod, lion’s tail and showy stonecrop all seem to have lost popularity over the years. Mexican blue sage should bloom best late in summer, but often finishes sooner than expected. Yarrow often blooms later than expected, until summer ends. Marigold, blanket flower and some sunflowers bloom until frost. Chrysanthemums, whether grown as annuals or perennials, are just beginning late in summer.