From spring until autumn, semperflorens begonia, which is also known as fibrous, bedding or wax, begonia, is a warm season annual. They actually start to deteriorate as the weather gets cool this time of year. However, they do not necessarily need to be pulled out as their season ends. In sheltered locations or with protection from frost, they actually survive through winter as perennials. They are so easy to propagate by cuttings or division of overgrown plants that tired older plants can replace themselves with their own babies before they get too ugly.
The small flowers of semperflorens begonia can be white, red, or various shades of pink in between. Foliage is more often green or bronze, but can be reddish or variegated. The largest plants get only a foot tall. Denser dwarf types are half as tall. Semperflorens begonia likes rich soil and regular watering (when it is not raining). They prefer partial shade, but will take full sun if mixed with other plants that keep things cool and humid.
Begonia boliviensis ‘Santa Cruz’ is significantly bigger than it was when I wrote about it three months ago. If I had known that it would have performed so well, I would have groomed it for better form. It grew upright at first. I just let it do so because I wanted to make a cutting from the tip when it got pruned back. However, because it leaned over and branched as it should, it did not get pruned back. It could have developed a better and lower form if I had tended to it better, but I am too pleased with it now to complain that it is a bit more upright than it should be. I do not mind that I did not get a cutting from the primary stem that I did not cut back because there are now many more stems that I can get cuttings from, simply be grooming out a small bit of superfluous growth from within. I could get many more than I want if I were to actually prune this specimen back for winter. It is getting to be too exemplary to cut back for winter, though. Nor do I want to leave it out to get frosted, as I might do with other begonias. The horticulturist who procured it will shelter it from frost, and perhaps groom it a bit after winter, but otherwise try to retain as much of this growth as possible for a head start next spring. I am curious to see what it does. Will it shed most of this growth as it resumes growth from below next spring; or will it grow from near the tips of where it stopped growing this year? I did not expect to be so impressed by this modern cultivar of Begonia.
Karpooravalli bananas after removal of their edible male flowers below.
Pronunciation is only slightly easier than when I first tried to read it. Spelling still necessitates cheating, which I do not feel at all guilty about. Karpooravalli is a big name! I must get acquainted with it though, since it will likely be with me for the rest of my life.
Yes, it is another cultivar of banana, which is something else that I do not feel at all guilty about. I have no intention of retaining all of the other twenty or so cultivars that are already here. In the future, I will likely give away most of them to colleagues, without retaining pups. I actually already have plans to install at work the two that are least likely to produce edible fruit, and never grow either in my own garden again.
Karpooravalli banana pups
These four new pups of Karpooravalli arrived last Monday, just two days after eight unidentified pupping pups and a single pup of ‘Blue Java’ which is also known as the ‘Ice Cream’ banana. Like these previously most recent acquisitions, as well as another ‘Blue Java’ pup and another unidentified pup that were acquired together last year, these four pups of Karpooravalli are from a private garden. All of the other cultivars here are from nurseries, and most were tissue culture plugs that never actually grew in soil.
That is the dilemma. Cultivars from nurseries are expendable. I can give them away without retaining any copies and not miss them. However, cultivars from private gardens have history, even if I am unaware of it. They are important to someone.
I can give away the recently acquired pup of ‘Blue Java’ only because another pup of it from another important source is already established here, and I knew when I took it that it would not be staying. Also, I can give away almost all of the other unidentified pups that came with it because there are already too many to retain. However, I will retain at least one of them because I know that the cultivar was important to the person who shared it. Likewise, I will retain my first copy of ‘Blue Java’ and the unidentified pup that came with it because they are important to the person who shared them.
Karpooravalli is fortunately one of the more reliably productive cultivars here, and provides sweet fruit with remarkably rich flavor. It is gratifying to know this now because I will grow it for as long as I can tend the garden. This particular Karpooravalli is very important to the person who grew it in her garden for a few decades before sharing it with me, so it is important to me now. I know that I will eventually need to share it with others as it multiplies in the future, but I will prefer to share it with those who respect its importance.
Before I was in kindergarten, I acquired my rhubarb from my paternal paternal great grandfather, and my Dalmatian iris from my maternal maternal great grandmother. Both are growing well in my garden now, and always will. I acquired my common lily of the Nile and the first of my common zonal geranium a few years later. Much of what inhabits my garden now has been with me for many years. Yet, I acquired my first Japanese iris, persicaria and goldenrod as recently as late last winter from Tangly Cottage Gardening. Perhaps it is never too late to start another important tradition.
Yes! We have more bananas! I can explain. Although there are as many as twenty cultivars of banana here, almost all are individual pups or tissue culture plugs. (Of these twenty, three are unidentified. Of these three, one is likely a redundant copy of one of the other cultivars, one seems to be completely necrotic without possibility of recovery, and only one is notably distinct.) All but a few arrived earlier this year, so have not yet generated pups. ‘Double Mahoi’ has doubled by generating a single pup. ‘Golden Rhino Horn’ arrived as a pair, and one of the pair is only now beginning to generate another pair of pups. Otherwise, there are no spare pups to share. The only spare pups of ‘Double Mahoi’ and ‘Golden Rhino Horn’ (the one which lacks new pups) may be leaving in the next few days. Whatever remains of these two will most certainly go to another colleague at the end of winter. Another colleague would like to add any spares, regardless of cultivar, to his garden. However, until just now, I could not help in that endeavor. The few in the picture above just arrived from Gilroy because they were in need of a new home. The pup to the far left is ‘Blue Java’, which is also known as ‘Ice Cream’, is redundant to a copy that is already here, so can be shared with a colleague. The others, which are sufficiently numerous for all of us to get copies, are unidentified, which merely means that if they produce fruit, it will be a surprise. Even if their fruit is not palatable, their foliage is good for forage and compost. For the colleague who would like to add any spares regardless of cultivar, they can live in a riparian area of his garden that is too steep, damp and shady for gardening. These pups may not look like much in the picture, but their corms are quite plump, so will provide an abundance of foliage after they get into the ground and the weather warms after winter. Soon afterward, they will generate more pups, but we can worry about that later.
Sniveling works! Perhaps I should say that it can potentially be effective, and is sometimes more effective than expected. I certainly do not want to make the impression that I recommend it. Nonetheless, and contrary to the typical ‘Horridculture’ theme for Wednesdays, I can not deny recent favorable developments that, although not direct results of my snivelling about my lack of a white Japanese anemone, Anemone (or Eriocapitella) hupehensis, two weeks ago, somehow seem to be relevant to it. Firstly, someone at work brought me a pair of copies of an unidentified cultivar of Japanese anemone that is described as being very similar to that which is already here, with slightly pinkish pale gray bloom. Although not the right color, it is the right species. I intend to grow both the new and the old, and even if they are indistinguishable from each other, will continue to grow both because of their different but important origins. Secondly, a new landscape at a new home in the neighborhood includes several specimens of the most enviable and splendidly white ‘Honorine Jobert’ Japanese anemone! Those installing the landscape are completely unaware of the significance, and, as might be expected from such ‘landscapers’, actually told me that these Japanese anemones are the native bush anemone, Carpenteria californica. Why argue? I now know where I can get copies of ‘Honorine Jobert’ Japanese anemone after it has grown through next year. The other horticulturist here is acquainted with those who will live at the new home seasonally, so will have no problem procuring copies for me. As I intended to do with all of the now overly abundant canna and bearded iris, I plan to limit the number of cultivars of Japanese anemone to the original that was already here, the recent gift that might be the same as the original, and the ‘Honorine Jobert’ that I have yet to acquire.
‘Stuttgart’ Canna to the left and an unidentified tall Canna with red bloom and green foliage to the right
It is not as important as it sounds. Two varieties of Canna bloomed for the first time here during the past few weeks. They are important only to me because of their origins. With very few exceptions, such as the still elusive ‘San Jose’ bearded iris, I do not pursue rare or unusual species, varieties or cultivars. Actually, most of my favorites are quite common, and most that are rare here are common where they came from. I obtained some from places I have travelled to. Most were gifts from friends, neighbors and colleagues. The Canna to the left is ‘Stuttgart’ from Tangly Cottage Gardening. This is its second season here, but it did not bloom successfully before autumn chill last year. It is the second of three different Canna musifolia here. The first has moderately bronzed foliage. The third has simple green foliage. ‘Stuttgart’ has the most distinctive foliage that is variegated with variable white bands. All three bloom with similarly subdued and pastel orange flowers, but for this first bloom, ‘Stuttgart’ is blooming with a bit more peachy pink. The Canna to the right was a gift from a friend of a friend last winter. It is the third red Canna here, but the first is an unidentified compact cultivar that gets only about half as tall with garishly big flowers, and the second is ‘Australia’ with darkly bronzed foliage. This new unidentified cultivar is quite tall with simple green foliage, which is actually what I prefer for my own garden. (Although, I like the short cultivar also because it has been here longer than anyone can remember; and I like ‘Australia’ because everyone else likes the impressively darkly bronzed foliar color. Furthermore, I like the moderately bronzed Canna musifolia because it has also been here for a very long time; and I like the simple green Canna musifolia because it was a gift from a neighbor, and it is the biggest Canna here.)
Many home garden Campanula are easier to identify by cultivar name than by species.
Of the hundreds of varied Campanula (Campanula spp.) that can be found in the wild, almost all of the few grown in gardens are small scale ground covers or creeping perennials, with blue or white bell or star shaped flowers. Most campanula fill in nicely between clumping perennials, and will spread wherever they have other plants or features to shelter them, although they are rarely reliable as ground cover for exposed areas. Campanula can be grown from seed, but is easiest to propagate by division. Pieces trimmed off from around the edges or pulled out of shrubbery also root very easily.
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.
Dahlias are as variable as related chrysanthemums. Rare tree dahlias can grow ten feet tall from the ground annually. Most popular dahlias grow less than half as high with more lavish bloom. Bedding dahlias are less than a foot and a half tall with smaller but profuse flowers. They are popular as warm season annuals, but can be perennial like the others.
Bedding dahlias are neither as ornate nor as diverse as those that are better cut flowers. They compensate with foliar density and floral profusion. Their flowers are less than five inches wide, and could be about half as wide. Their floral color range is limited to yellow, orange, red, pink and white. Floral variegation can add another color of the same range.
Bloom continues through summer and autumn, until frost. Deadheading promotes better bloom. Dormant tubers may remain in their gardens through winters here. They could rot, though, while their soil remains cool and damp. If dug and stored for winter, they prefer to return to their gardens prior to spring warmth. Dormant tubers propagate well by division.
Not many flowers are as blue as blue marguerite is.
Like all sorts of daisies, gazanias, ice plants and so many of the familiar flowers in the Compositae family, blue marguerite, Felicia amelloides, is endemic to South Africa. Their flowers are the colors of the flag of Sweden though, with clear blue petals around bright yellow centers. These inch wide or slightly wider flowers bloom on well groomed plants most of the time, except during cool weather. Plants that do not get dead headed (groomed of deteriorating flowers) take breaks between bloom phases. The simple inch long leaves seem to be glossy, but almost have the texture of a cat’s tongue.
Mature plants may be taller than a foot and broader than four feet. Their somewhat woody stems are not as substantial as they should be, so can break easily, leaving awkward holes in otherwise well rounded shrubs. Unfortunately, the healthiest plants may live for only a few years. Distressed plants actually last a bit longer. Aggressive pruning at the end of summer or just before spring can restore old deteriorating plants for a while.
Blue marguerite likes well drained soil, good sun exposure and somewhat regular watering. It is most often used as a colorful and shapely perennial, but is colorful enough for pots and urns of mixed perennials or annuals.
Tony Tomeo 