Plant Talk

Halloween Bouquet

Happy Halloween! I love this holiday that celebrates all the wild spookiness and weirdness of my favorite time of year....I enjoyed Halloween more when it was casual and do-it-yourself, before Martha Stewart started turning out magazines dedicated to decorating and cooking for it, as if Halloween isn't the antithesis of perfection...to restore my enthusiasm, I remind myself that nature ignores silly expectations and extravagances. Without any instruction from anyone, it clothes itself in the essence of Halloween, with blowing leaves, dark skies, skeleton branches and ripening pumpkins.

Sometimes we've had a hard freeze by now, but this year the garden is still going, and I picked this very late bouquet - the foliage is Spirea 'Magic Carpet' and rainbow chard, setting off a mop-head hydrangea,  the last nasturtiums, and a second flush of alstroemeria and Gaillardia 'Oranges and Lemons'...these are all such durable plants that have been producing since mid-summer; then I would have popped them into a green glass vase, or maybe a creamy white one; but for Halloween, nothing but swirly black ceramic would do.

A Beauty of a New Mahonia

When I admired 'Soft Caress' mahonia at Wells-Medina last week, the nursery guy told me many of these cool new shrubs have gone home with employees. I'm not surprised...I stared at it for awhile before I even grasped that it was a mahonia, for 'Soft Caress' has none of that usual heavy, dark-green mahonia look. Its slender leaves lend an airy appearance, and it could easily be mistaken for a nandina or a tidy little form of bamboo.

Yet despite its unusual looks, 'Soft Caress' has the characteristic growth pattern of mahonia, takes shade, and is topped with a burst of fragrant yellow flowers in winter. It's evergreen like its relatives, and grows to about four feet high - although because it's such a new hybrid we really don't know how large it'll grow here in the Northwest. Nor can we be sure about its tenderness..even though the tag reads "hardy to 10 degrees F.", nursery staff recommended a sheltered spot in the garden. I'd love to grow it in a container, and am considering the risk....look at those red stems....isn't it a beauty?

Hip Feed Troughs

If hip feed troughs strike you as an oxymoron, visit the new 1111 E. Pike Street condos. Designed by Tom Kundig, they'e 27 units of boutique cool, topped off by a rooftop deck. The plantings are mostly drought-tolerant rosemary, phormium and small conifers, growing in round and bullet-shaped feed troughs, painted matte black. It totally changes the look, from shiny to flat and most of all from rural to urban. Smaller plants like sarcococca are growing in galvanized tubs painted the same deep, dark shade.

Galvanized feed troughs must be the most inexpensive large containers (you can buy them at feed stores); just be sure and drill plenty of holes in the bottom so the soil drains freely. I'm wondering now about how feed troughs would look painted.....say, rusty orange, pine green or a dusky shade of eggplant purple?

Q&A: Leyland Cypress.... Why Not Branch Out?

Question: Hi Valerie,

I'm wondering about using a Leyland Cypress near my fenced property line. Can you suggest a proper distance from the fence and spacing? Also, I live in a very windy area, and a neighbor of mine has had a couple of these trees partially blow over. I've read conflicting things about their ability to withstand strong winds, so am concerned about this. Would it help to keep them trimmed / headed to avoid wind damage?

Thanks,

Tim Tomassi

Answer: Dear Tim,

I wouldn't advise anyone to plant Leyland Cypress because it's so boring and expected....I know, because they line my driveway (my only excuse is they were there when I moved in; I'm interspersing other trees and shrubs to make the hedge a little more interesting). But since I'm so prejudiced against them, I took your question to an astute consulting arborist friend, Sue Nicol (susanmnicol@gmail.com). Here's Sue's answer:

"Leyland Cypress is a hybrid, with hybrid vigor, and therefore grows quickly. It is susceptible to a number of diseases, so I don’t recommend it. If he really wants one, I would plant it at least 10 feet from the property line. There is no reason to think that an otherwise healthy Leyland Cypress will fall over in a wind storm any more than other conifers. The ability of a healthy tree to withstand strong winds depends on a number of factors, including soil drainage and whether there are girdling roots near the base of the trunk. If the root system is circling inside the container and he doesn’t fix that at planting time, then the tree is likely to develop girdling roots which can prevent a root system from adequately anchoring the tree in the ground."
 
(Now here's the best part - a good alternative to the ubiquitous Leyland cypress:) "I think a better conifer for urban yards is Western Red Cedar. I suggest the cultivar 'Virescens'. It is narrower and shorter than the species. All Western Red Cedars need occasional summer water since they naturally grow in moist soils. He should water deeply but infrequently during the hot dry months."

So there's your expert opinion....good luck with your decision...

Val

Autumn Fire

If you love bright red autumn foliage,  look no further than the slow-growing, easy-care sourwood tree. Too often we plant burning bushes (Euonymus alata) for that blast of pure red, but they are awkward, twiggy shrubs with little to recommend them except for their vivid color for a week or so in October. Sourwoods (Oxydendrum arboreum) turn that same gorgeous scarlet in autumn, plus they're attractive year-round. I wonder why they're so rarely planted in urban and suburban gardens?

Here's a rundown of sourwood virtues:
-they grow slowly to 15-30 feet, with a pyramidal shape that's easy to fit into smaller gardens.

-In spring, their leaves come on with pretty bronze tints

-In summer, the leaves are large (5-8" long), deep green, and showy. Sourwoods flower in summer, with fragrant creamy white flowers that drip off the tips of the branches. Best of all, the seed capsules dry to silvery gray and contrast beautifully with the bright autumn foliage.

-The fireworks begin in late September, when leaves blast red and hang on the tree well into November.

-Sourwoods have a handsome winter silhouette.

Sourwoods can be grown in a container for their first few years. In the garden, they do best in sunny locations with well-drained soil. Keep them irrigated, mulch well in winter and avoid underplanting because sourwoods resent competition. I can't imagine a more beautiful autumn scene than a bright red sourwood planted against the luminescent gold of a ginkgo or katsura tree....

Here's a sourwood in full autumn color growing in a garden along Park Avenue in Langley...there's no photo-shopping on this brilliant color, that's the real thing..

Beyond Tulips

Not that there's anything wrong with tulips; I can't resist buying dozens of glossy, plum-colored 'Queen of the Night' and glowing orange 'Princess Irene' to fill pots and feed troughs.

But there are many more unusual choices to keep your garden blooming March through May; here are a few bulbs more unexpected than the usual tulips and daffs...

Photos courtesy of Brent and Becky's Bulbs, a quality source for spring and fall-blooming bulbs.

 

Camassia lilies bloom blue in May, on tall, skinny stalks with sword-shaped leaves. Their flowers are star-like with yellow centers, they tolerate heavy soils and bloom happily in sun or part shade.

Allium 'Globemaster' is one of the most dramatic of ornamental onions, and is great for crowded gardens because it takes up little horizontal space. It towers over the May garden; plant as many as you can afford for a celestial effect as the purple allium flower globes hover over your other plantings. Allium leaves appear first, then wither away as the flower stalks emerge. The flowers persist for months in the garden, drying to buff colored.

Fritillaria 'Aurora' (a.k.a. crown imperial) grows three feet tall with burn-orange bells topped with a frill of leaves worthy of a tropical parrot.  These sculptural beauties often bloom in April, in time to heat up the garden for Easter.

All these bulbs are easy to grow and truly perennial. Plant them this month or next in well-draining soil in a sunny location, and they'll multiply and bloom year after year.

Plotting the Resurrection

 
If it wasn't for the great satisfaction of tucking narcissus and allium bulbs into the soil, I'd probably turn my back on the dying garden and head indoors for the winter. But brown paper sacks filled with lumps of potential are lined up on my garage shelves, so there's nothing for it but to cut back the dahlia foliage and dying hosta leaves to find enough bare earth to plant springtime.  

Every year at this time I read E.B. White's introduction to his wife's book "Onward and Upward in the Garden", which contains one of the most poignant scenes in garden literature. White evokes all the absurd optimism inherent in planting bulbs as he describes his wife out in the garden as always, planting flowers she'll never see....

"As years went by and age overtook her, there was something comical yet touching in her bedraggled appearance on this awesome occasion - the small, hunched-over figure, her studied absorption in the implausible notion that there would be yet another spring, oblivious to the ending of her own days, which she knew perfectly well was near at hand, sitting there with her detailed chart under those dark skies in the dying October, calmly plotting the resurrection."

Simultaneous Seasonality....It's the Moment

Right now, today, is the most exciting moment of autumn. Fall color may still intensify, but we're at the confluence where most leaves have turned, yet are still hanging on, and a hard frost hasn't done its damage..so tomatoes are still coloring up, dahlias, asters and nasturtiums are blooming, yet all around us the world has turned golden, flame and scarlet. All it'll take is one serious wind and rain storm or a chilling kiss from Jack Frost, and simultaneous seasonality will be over for another year.

However much we flinch from acknowledging it, I keep hearing that our country is in the unprecedented reality of "Post Peak Prosperity". I'm afraid that the view back from the downward slope reveals that we  didn't appreciate the peak while we were up there... 'tis the moment to open our eyes to nature's prime moment before we're plunged into months of post peak autumn.

Nasturtiums and asters are still going strong.....

While maples like the coral bark (Acer palmatum 'Sango-kaku' (top) and the supremely scarlet Acer palmatum 'Baldsmith' are blazing.. (I can't remember the name of the pretty upright little tree in the 2nd photo...any guesses?)

Clootie Tree

More tradition than tree, don't waste your time looking up this genus. Clootie, in old Scottish vernacular, means a strip of rag or cloth. It was a Celtic tradition to tie rag ribbons to a Clootie tree branch as a healing ritual. Such trees, usually growing besides Clootie wells, were places of pilgrimage in Scotland and Ireland. It was explained to me by a Whidbey artist with his own Clootie tree, that people made a wish, tied their ribbon, and as the rag grew tattered in the wind and weather the wish was released to the Universe to act upon. In modern times the wish was made to a saint, in the past to a goddess or nature spirit.

The lovely story was enough to inspire this Clootie tree in my Langley garden, in the hopes visitors will pick a rag ribbon, make a wish, tie it to the tree. It only took this phrase in the Wikipedia entry on Clootie trees  "Additional votive offerings were hung on the branches...." to inspire a few added embellishments....

Wonder

Do you remember another autumn that descended on us so quickly? A few days ago, the moon was full, the sky packed with stars, the sun bright and warm. On Monday, autumn arrived all in a rush, bringing chilly, dark mornings, daytime highs in the mid-50's, and the compensation of leaves turning crimson. Sunday I was sitting in the sunshine at an outdoor wedding, today I wore fleece, scarf and gloves when I went out for a walk.

The wonder of the world changing around us so quickly reminded me of this Rachel Carson quote:

"Those who dwell, as scientists or laymen, among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life." If she'd included gardeners in there right after scientists, or in place of laymen, the quote would be perfect....and of conceptual artist Robert Irwin's one sentence speech when accepting an honorary doctorate (more context on this in an upcoming Pacific magazine column) "All I want to say is that the wonder is still there."

You can experience the wonder of autumn right here in the heart of the city, in the Japanese Garden at Washington Park Arboretum, or walking the woodland trails of the Arboretum (below).