Hollyhock was more popular within Victorian gardens.
Old fashioned hollyhock, Alcea rosea, can be a bit too imposing for small gardens, since their spire like flower stalks can get taller than eight feet. Modern varieties are more proportionate, standing about five or six feet tall. Some are only about two and a half feet tall. Many modern varieties also have fluffier semi-double or double flowers. Those with smaller flowers have denser flower set than old varieties (Flowers are closer together on the stem.).
The three to five inch wide flowers bloom through summer in shades of pink, red, purple, pale yellow, pale orange and white. Removal of spent flower stalks may promote shorter autumn blooms, but also prevents self sowing. Seed can be sown at the end of summer for blooms next year. The coarsely textured and variably lobed basal foliage does not get much wider than two feet. Snails and rust can be problematic.
It is not a species of ivy. ‘IV’ is merely its Roman numeric designation as the fourth species that I am unable to identify since I started assigning numeric designations to them. So then, what is it? I suspect that it is likely Rotheca myricoides, which is alternatively known as Clerodendrum myricoides. ‘Ugandense’ is a cultivar name that, in typical modern tradition of botanic nomenclature that violates the simple standards of botanic nomenclature, now seems to be an acceptable species name in conjunction with either genus name. Its common names include butterfly flower, blue butterfly plant and blue butterfly bush, although the latter sounds more like a cultivar of Buddleia. I have not actually confirmed its identity, and I have no idea how it got into one of our landscapes. It grew under the carcass of a Brunfelsia pauciflora, yesterday, today and tomorrow, which did not survive my meager attempt to salvage it from compost. I can only assume that it arrived, most likely as an ungerminated seed, with the now deceased yesterday, today and tomorrow. It initially grew quickly with only two straight canes about four feet tall. I would have pulled it as a weed, but was intrigued by it. It did not grow much this year, but instead took time to branch, and is now taking time to bloom with these few intricate flowers on top. I am now pleased that I did not pull it as a weed. If it really is butterfly flower, it can get a bit taller than it already is. So, because it grew in front of an exemplary sasanqua camellia, I will likely relocate it to a more appropriate situation during its winter dormancy. I am fond enough of its sky blue flowers to propagate a few more copies of it.
The delicate pastel blue flowers are prettier up close.
Butterfly gladiolus will not bloom for a while. Abyssinian gladiolus may not bloom at all. Hybrid gladiolus, though, are already finishing. I got these few pictures while I can, and will likely get pictures of butterfly gladiolus as they bloom later. I am glad to do so. They are my favorite gladiolus. They are more like wildflowers than overly bred hybrids. Also, they are very reliably perennial. I hope that the Abyssinian gladiolus perform also. They are also supposedly reliably perennial, but are not in a very good situation here. I should relocate them, perhaps closer to where the butterfly gladiolus are so happy. The hybrids are earning my appreciation too. I was not aware that they had potential to be perennial.
1. Gladiolus papilio, butterfly gladiolus is my favorite, because it is from Tangly Cottage Gardening, is approved by Skooter, is reliably perennial, and it blooms like a wildflower.
2. Its foliage is rather grassy, which is more compatible with other wildflowers than wide leaves of more garish hybrid gladiolus. The corms multiply and migrate quite efficiently.
3. Gladiolus murielae, Abyssinian gladiolus is my second favorite, even while it is not so much to see. It is a gift from a neighbor. It should bloom for autumn, but I have doubts.
4. Hybrid gladiolus are the most colorful, but are not reliably perennial. However, these and two others have been blooming well here for several years, and actually multiplying.
5. This orange with yellow hybrid gladiolus was one of the first two to bloom again after a few years of producing only foliage. The yellow gladiolus joined them a few years later.
6. This purple hybrid gladiolus is the other of the first pair to resume bloom, although it does not multiply as much as the yellow gladiolus that resumed bloom a few years later.
When I see common thrift, Armeria maritima, in nurseries now, I wonder what such a diminutive perennial would be useful for. Their densely compact mounds of narrow evergreen leaves rarely get more than four inches deep, and take their time spreading to less than a foot wide. Then I remember how thrift visually softened the straight edges of my father’s brick patio and retaining walls, and fit so nicely into the tight spots. If allowed to do so, thrift creeps slowly over edges of pavement and stepping stones, but is not too eager to overwhelm them.
If it eventually gets overgrown, thrift is easily cut back to the edge of pavement at the end of winter, and will green over its raw edge by spring. The bits and pieces that are left over from cutting back the edges can be plugged back into other areas and will eventually develop roots if initially watered regularly. Once established, thrift stays healthier if allowed to dry somewhat between watering. Bald spots that may naturally come and go as mature plants die out in the center and then regenerate fill in faster if outer edges get cut back.
The dense round clusters of tiny flowers stand above the foliage on bare stems about four to eight inches high. The flowers are almost always bright pink, but are sometimes white or reddish pink. Bloom is most profuse in spring and may continue sporadically all year.
Like the big bark of a little terrier, the big and boldly colored flowers of large-flowered hybrid clematis seem to be more than their delicate vines should be able to produce. Almost all of the many modern varieties bloom with flowers that are at least three inches wide; and some have slightly ruffled double flowers. Their rich, deep, and sometimes two toned shades of red, blue, purple or pink, as well as white seem too opulent for their simple wiry stems that may climb to only six feet or so. The dark green compound leaves grab harmlessly onto light trellises, stakes or lattice. Although the foliage and flowers want sunny exposure, clematis roots do not like warm soil, so appreciate generous mulching. Some people like to give them a wide rock to disperse their roots under, or plant them next to large pots that sit directly on the soil. I planted mine on the north side of the northwestern corner of the house where the soil was always shaded, and allowed it to climb around the corner onto an iron banister on the west side.
Clematis want to be watered and fertilized regularly, and well drained organically rich soil. They should be pruned rather aggressively in winter while they seem to be dead, but are really just dormant.
New Guinea impatiens (with ivy geranium) from last year.
Annuals complete their entire lifespans within a single year.
Perennials survive for more than a single year.
Biennials grow vegetatively during their first year, and then bloom, disperse seed and die during their second year, but that is another story.
Most species that are appreciated as annuals here actually have potential to be perennials, even if only short term perennials. They are only replaced annually because it is easier than maintaining them through their dormant season.
For example, busy Lizzy is a warm season annual that gets installed for spring and replaced with cool season annuals for autumn. However, if cut back and sheltered from frost, it can survive through winter to perform for the following spring and summer. Actually, it can survive perennially like this for quite a few years, and as it ultimately deteriorates, it can replace itself with its own cuttings or layered stems.
Brent did this with New Guinea impatiens from last year. He neglected to replace them for winter (which is quite brief there), and then noticed that they resumed growth as winter ended. Now, they are huge and even more spectacularly florific than they were last summer.
The picture above shows where I camp out in his backyard when I go to Southern California. Most of the white bloom to the right is actually ivy geranium that cascades below the New Guinea impatiens, but most of the white bloom to the left is New Guinea impatiens above ivy geranium. (White on white was not quite as monotonous when each of the two species maintained its distinct form last year.)
Small terrace at the western margin of the garden.
This other pair of potted dwarf Alberta spruce surrounded with the same New Guinea impatiens above, with a close up below, flanks the steps to a small terrace at far western margin of the garden.
These New Guinea impatiens are huge because they resumed growth from last year.
Simply, these are six varieties of flowers. All but one bloomed last week. Half are hybrid cultivars of the same genus with two in the same picture. Six pictures of flowers with two varieties in one picture should include seven varieties of flowers. But of course, “mostly” indicates something that is not exclusive. Anyway, I should have gotten more pictures at work, since it was a rather fun week. Irrigation is getting more demanding, though, now that the weather is getting warmer. Because we need to delay renovation of a prominent landscape, we installed potted Canna onto the site. They are potted to facilitate removal when renovation resumes, but will be rad!
1. Lantana camara, which is known here simply as ‘lantana’, is too colorful to not share. Actually though, it is from three weeks ago, and west of Phoenix. Ours is more yellowish.
2. Rosa ‘Iceberg’ and ‘Burgundy Iceberg’ are grafted together on two old rose trees in the rose garden. I find multiple grafts to be annoying, but guests find them to be intriguing.
3. Rosa of an unidentified cultivar blooms better with better exposure, and also without the other cultivar that it was originally grafted with, but that was crowded out years ago.
4. Alstroemeria peruviana, Peruvian lily will not die. We removed large colonies at least twice from this location, but some always survive. They are yellow, orange, pink and red.
5. Lilium, which seems to be some sort of fancy Asiatic lily, was a gift from a neighbor. I did not expect them to perform so well, but after only four years, they should be divided.
6. Rhody is the only one of these six who is not a flower, although another type of flower is named after him. Morgan, his F250 who identifies as a Mercury, wants to get washed.
These grew from formerly small and shriveled clumps of tuberous roots.
It is hard to imagine how the small shriveled clumps of tuberous roots of ranunculus, Ranunculus asiaticus, planted last autumn can produce such bright pink, red, orange, yellow and white flowers between late winter and early spring. The two or three inch wide, semidouble or double flowers stand about a foot high, just above their soft deeply lobed foliage. Those of us who did not get ranunculus in the ground last autumn can find blooming plants now. Ranunculus want to be in full sun, in rich, well draining soil.
Deadheading (removal of fading flowers) promotes subsequent bloom; but the season is rather short. Foliage will soon be turning yellow, and will eventually die back. If not watered too much, dormant ranunculus can survive through summer, but should be dug and stored in a cool dry place until next autumn if they are in pots or areas that will get watered regularly.
Extensive breeding can compromise floral fragrance.
As I enjoy good friends and cheap coffee out on the deck, I am also savoring the sweet fragrance of the abundant white bloom of the black locust off in the distance. I know that black locust is a noxious weed that invades riparian environments; but they smell so good on such pleasantly warm spring days. Modern varieties are certainly better behaved and more colorful with their pink to purplish flowers, but their fragrance does not compare so well.
Earlier here on the deck, one of my friends and I discussed how modern Buicks are much safer than old classic Buicks are, but are not quite as elegant and stylish. It made me think of how decades ago, modern roses were developed for flower size, form, color and stem length, but in the process, were deprived of, among other qualities, their fragrance. Perhaps I would have been more attentive to my friend if the coffee were as potent as the fragrance of the black locust.
Modern varieties of many classic flowers are less fragrant than their ancestors were. This is because decades (and centuries) ago, fragrance generally had not been prioritized in breeding as much as were other physical characteristics, such as flower size, form, color and so on. The plants that were consequently used for breeding typically had the most visually appealing flowers, but lacked fragrance. Such disparity is actually quite natural among plants with variable flowers.
For example, most bearded iris that naturally have the biggest, fanciest and most brightly colored flowers are also the least fragrant. Their progeny that have become the modern varieties are just as flashy, and also, just as deficient of fragrance. Conversely, the relatively small and simple pale purple flowers of my favorite ‘Grandma Sheppard’ bearded iris are remarkably fragrant.
To the iris, this is all quite sensible. Their fragrance is not designed to impress us, but is merely intended to attract pollinators. If they are fragrant enough to entice the insects that bring them pollen, they do not need to waste any more effort on visual appeal. Without fragrance though, they can alternatively use color (including infrared and ultraviolet) to direct insect traffic where they need it to go in order to accomplish pollination. Almost all of the many varieties of iris prefer to specialize in one or the other; either fragrance or visual characteristics, but not both.
So many of the old classics seem to have lost some or most of their fragrance as they have ‘improved’ over the years because visual appeal has been prioritized more than fragrance. Besides flowering locusts, roses and iris, some types of honeysuckle, mock orange, sweet pea, violet, hyacinth, lily and even narcissus are less fragrant than their ancestors were. However, traditional as well as modern fragrant roses and iris seem to be gaining popularity. Fortunately, gardenia, lilac, wisteria, stock and the fragrant types of angel’s trumpet and jasmine are probably as potent as they have ever been because they have not been tampered with as much.
For the past few years, I have really been overly indulgent with the seed catalogues from Renee’s Garden. I wanted to try more varieties of classic annual cosmos, Cosmos bipinnatus, than I could fit in my garden. I recently grew ‘White Seashells’ with tubular ray flowers, and colorful ‘Double Click’ with ruffled semi-double and double flowers, and even the ‘Dancing Petticoats’ mix, which includes several varieties! By now, I have probably grown all but a few of the many offerings.
After trying so many though, I still can not tell you which are my favorites. It would not matter much anyway, since I did not deadhead them to deprive them of their abundant seeds. Their self sown progeny are now mixed and beginning to bloom in random shades of pink ranging from pale pink to nearly red to nearly purple, with a few white.
Naturalized cosmos eventually reverts to bloom with more genetically basic single flowers in simpler shades of pink and white, on stems about three or four feet tall. They can even get taller than six feet and wider than two feet. Most of the popular garden varieties that I started out with though stay less than three feet tall. ‘Sonata’ is a popular strain that stays even shorter, so is among the most practical and proportionate for refined gardens.
Seed can be sown or new plants can be planted now to bloom through summer. Naturalized plants are already blooming only because they get an earlier start. Regardless of color or form, all cosmos flowers are about three inches wide, with yellow centers. Their finely textured pale green foliage is quite delicate and airy.
Tony Tomeo 