Please Do Not Pick the Flowers

Am I that predictable? How did whoever posted this sign know I would be here? I do not want their stupid flowers anyway. Besides, only that dinky twig of some random species that I can not identify is blooming on the far right. Is that all they got? What I really want, or more accurately, what I would want if I did not find them to be either uninteresting or redundant what is already in my garden, is stem bits of the succulents for propagation. I suppose that I am not the only one who might want that, which is why the sign, although slightly irrelevant to such desires, became necessary. Actually, I have direct experience with pilferage of bits of succulents from my small planter box downtown, so I am aware of why such signs might be useful. I would not install any such sign within my planter box because such a sign would be bigger and more prominent than any of the flowers that it would be intended to protect. If I were to grow more flowers, I would prefer those that are so abundant that no one would miss a few that might get pilfered. The most abundant flowers are also smaller than less abundant flowers, so they would not be as tempting to those who might want more impressive flowers. For example, the bearded iris within my downtown planter box blooms with only a few big and bold floral stalks. Not only are the flowers tempting and easily taken, but when they are taken, there are no more to replace them. Anyway, I do not actually mind if those who want copies of my succulent perennials take a few bits if only they do so properly. It may happen more often than I am aware of, but of course, I am not aware of it if otherwise useless bits are taken from below the visible growth, or where they should be pruned away anyway. That is how I justify what you likely know I will mention next. Yes, only about a hundred feet from this urn filled with succulents and the sign that requests that I refrain from doing as such, even if it does not mention the subject matter and procedure directly, I ‘borrowed’ a few bits of stem from the underside of a shabby specimen of what seems to be ‘Roman Red’ Salvia guaranitica that should eventually get pruned back for winter anyway.

Unconventional Dried Flowers

Rose hips are pretty fresh, and can alternatively be dried.

The problem with an abundance of bloom by lily-of-the-Nile over the summer is that all the spent blooms need to be plucked about now. Fortunately though, not all of the spent blooms need to go to compost or greenwaste. The stalks and floral trusses (the clusters of short flower stems on top of the stalks) can actually become interesting ‘dried flowers’, even though the real flowers are long gone.

Many years ago, my neighbor took many of the lily-of-the-Nile stalks that I plucked from my front yard, plucked off the seed capsules, and hung the empty stalks upside down until they dried and turned tan. Being the artistic sort, she added them to other dried flowers and foliage, and arranged them in a large vase (which I think is pronounced as ‘vahz’). Over the years, we found that we can actually let them dry in the garden if we first remove the seed capsules which would otherwise weigh them down and bend the stalks.

Since my artistic neighbor liked these lily-of-the-Nile flower stalks so much, I brought her other dried flower stalks to see how or if they could also be useful. We found that flower stalks from New Zealand flax were just as interesting and even more striking; and some types make rather tall stalks. The large seed capsules from Eucalyptus ficifolia function like modern substitutes for small pine cones. 

There are many other plant parts that can be dried and used with dried flowers as well. Cut bird-of-Paradise leaves become sculpturally twisted as they dry. Petioles (leaf stalks) of windmill palm become simple but striking straight black sticks. While still green, the palm leaves can be cut with scissors into interesting shapes less than six inches wide (larger cutouts disfigure). Some native iris produce large seed capsules that split open as they dry, to reveal bright orange or red seeds within. Money plant is actually grown for its dried seedpods instead of for flowers of foliage.

Even bare stems can be added to dried flower arrangements. Both manzanita and madrone have gnarly stems that turn black or dark brown once cut. Fig has contrastingly thick and curving white or gray stems. Bamboo can be cut into sections of any desired length and stripped of foliage. Heavenly bamboo (Nandina spp.) has shorter canes with a corky texture. Realistically, there are no rules for what works well with dried flowers. Anything that looks good is worth trying once.

Straw flowers, statice (Including sea lavender), lavender, globe thistle and yarrow are some of the more traditional dried flowers. Cat-tails and pampas grass flowers can work as well in large arrangements as they did decades ago, but should be sprayed with hair spray to keep them from shedding. (Cat-tails can actually be very messy if they happen to explode.)

Although spray paint is much too synthetic for those of us who prefer dried flowers to look natural, it also works well to keep pampas grass flowers and cat-tails from shedding while adding serious color. Some people enjoy the potential for unnatural colors enough to spray paint other dried flowers and plant parts that do not need to be sprayed with a fixative.

Bloomless Hydrangea

This hedge of modern Hydrangea is completely devoid of bloom.

Modern cultivars of Hydrangea were not easy to adapt to. I learned how to prune old fashioned cultivars during their winter dormancy. I knew to retain the terminal buds of their retained canes to bloom for their following season. Pruning canes of modern cultivars back shorter and depriving them of their terminal buds in order to promote shrubbier growth seemed to be more like pruning roses. I did not trust them to bloom without their terminal buds. Not only do they bloom, but they do so a bit more abundantly, and with sturdier floral trusses that last and retain their floral color somewhat longer than those of old fashioned cultivars. Old fashioned cultivars have bloomed so reliably for the past few years that I am not so hesitant about pruning them back. However, this year, they inexplicably did not bloom. I do not mean that they bloomed sparsely, or that a few of the total did not bloom. I mean that none of the modern hydrangeas bloomed at all. The only hydrangeas that bloomed within the landscapes at work this year are the few remaining old fashioned sorts. All of the hydrangeas are healthy with vibrantly green foliage. Neither disease nor insect pathogens have been problematic. I can not explain this odd lack of bloom. With such vigorous canes, pruning should be easy this winter. However, I am more likely to leave awkwardly long canes in order to retain their terminal buds. Even if they are not necessary, terminal buds might provide an earlier prebloom prior to the bloom of stems that grow from lateral buds. I can not help but wonder why, while modern cultivars did not bloom, old fashioned cultivars did. A colony of unpruned feral Hydrangea near the bank of Zayante Creek was unusually prolific in bloom.

Unpruned feral Hydrangea bloomed unusually prolifically.

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.

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.

Border Carnation

Border carnations stay short and compact.

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.

4:00

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.

Six on Saturday: Firsts

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.

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/

Pollinators Are As Busy As Bees

Flower breeding is not for pollinators.

Flowers bloom for pollination. It is that simple. Most rely on wind to disperse their pollen. They are more abundant than colorful or fragrant. More prominently colorful and fragrant flowers rely on pollinators. Their color and fragrance attract preferred pollinators, such as insects, birds or bats. Such flowers sustain their pollinators with nectar or surplus pollen.

More than pollinators appreciate their diligence. Almost everyone who enjoys gardening enjoys floral color and fragrance. Cultivation of naturally appealing bloom began several thousand years ago. Selection and breeding most likely began relatively soon afterward. Ultimately, during relatively modern history, hybridization began getting too complicated.

Pollinators were not a priority during such processes. Because most ornamental flowers produce no usable fruit, pollinators are unimportant. Because of extensive hybridization, many ornamental flowers are sterile anyway. Floral color, fragrance and various tangible attributes are more important. Modern bloom appeals more to people than to pollinators.

A few modern flowers now confound their original pollinators. Some types of insects can die of exhaustion while trying to ascertain them. These insects may recognize floral color or fragrance but not strange floral structure. A few modern flowers are too frilly for access. Some attract pollinators without providing enough nectar or extra pollen to sustain them.

Several exotic flowers with less or no breeding distract pollinators with their abundance. Lemon bottlebrush blooms very abundantly and is still common within some landscapes. Blue gum eucalyptus is naturalized in parts of California. Both attract monarch butterflies that native species rely on. Native ceanothus must instead rely more on other pollinators.

Furthermore, a few pollinators actually disrupt native ecosystems. Honey bees, although very important to local agriculture, are not native. They arrived in San Jose in 1853, from where they dispersed throughout the West. It is now impossible to assess their influence. Even seemingly beneficial influence is unnatural and therefore ecologically detrimental.

Six on Saturday: P III

P was about a white blooming perennial pea, Lathyrus latifolius, that I recently found to replace what I inadvertently lost earlier. P II was irrelevant to both that and this, but did happen to get a title that incorrectly designates it as a sequel to P, and prevents me from using that title for this Six on Saturday post with three variants of perennial pea and the more typical sort. Perhaps I should not have expended such effort for such a weed. What is worse is that I canned and am now growing copies of the three variants as well as the favored white blooming variant.

1. Canna are irrelevant to the primary topic, but are too cool to not mention. These were placed here temporarily in random pots until a new landscape gets installed next winter.

2. Canna musifolia dominates, which is why there is not much bloom. This one stands a bit more than eight feet high in its pot. It might be ‘Omega’ like the compact Oldsmobile.

3. Lathyrus latifolius, perennial pea is the primary topic because I found three variants. This one blooms with swirled pink flowers. It is about as rare as those that bloom white.

4. This looks white in this picture but is actually blushed very slightly with pink. I should have gotten a better picture. I dug and canned a copy because I had never seen it before.

5. This is the typical floral color of the species. To me, it looks purplish pink. I am not so proficient with color. Others say it is pinkish purple. It justifies my preference for white.

6. Like the picture of the very slightly blushed white flowers, this is not a good picture of flowers that seem to be slightly richer purple than the typical purplish pink. I got a copy.

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/