sprig to twig

Megan did a post about coastal gardens and how well Phormiums do there…blooming, even. I didn’t even know they did that until I saw a hothouse specimen in full bloom at Cistus. While there, R looked at my plant selections and asked why I didn’t go for one of those big, dramatic plants with the strappy leaves. I explained about recent flax deaths in Portland gardens.

But what have we here? Weeding in the east berm uncovered the remnants of Phormium tenax astropurpurea given up for lost. I took a division to move to the dry berm (foolish, probably, but at this point I figured what have I got to lose?), filled in with amended soil and mulched with gravel. It had been in the ground for about 3 years before we started having nordic winters, so maybe the root system was strong enough to see it through.

There is the transplant, way in the back, to the left of the yucca bloom. We shall see.

Then our good friends moved from their big old Victorian house into a condo and gave us their collection of potted plants. Among them was this colorful flax. I plan to move it to the covered deck for the winter.

Never say “never” is, I guess, the moral to this story. I would not have laid out cash to add more of these plants, but I do love them, and under these circumstances I am sure willing to give them another chance (and even provide a little extra tlc to help them along).

We headed out one Saturday to see a matinee, and instead wound up at Portland Nursery (and it wasn’t even my idea). Guess the transformation to plant geek is complete. We went our separate ways, but somehow both ended up in front of this tree. The $75 price tag was way too rich for our blood, so we wandered on, only to find the same tree, not much bigger, with a tag of $499! Suddenly the first one seemed like a real bargain. I don’t know what was going on there: maybe marketing genius at work. Anyway, we had found the excuse we needed to justify bringing it home, and who cares if the genius was snickering up his sleeve at the saps who fell for his ruse?

Richard set about building up the berm to give it a nice perch, where it can spill over the edges.

Here is a close-up to show you how gracefully the branches cascade. On the more mature specimen there were juniper berries in abundance, in all their silvery splendor. Can you tell we’re in love? Once the berries show up, we can always go into business making bathtub gin to support our plant habit.

James, over at Lost in the Landscape, did a post recently bemoaning the difficulty of staging shots of big, bold, dramatic plants. Oh, man, can I identify. A work in progress is the planting along the fence between us and our oh-so-wonderful neighbors. They are tidy in the extreme, but the collection of outbuildings, woodpiles, etc. make for a poor background when taking pictures or just sitting on our deck gazing over the landscape. These three Eremurus are ‘Cleopatra’. They are new this year, and it looks like I have finally found the spot where these temperamental beauties can be happy.

I tried taking pictures from many different angles, but nothing quite does them justice. Others that have been moved around from year to year looking for a happy home will be moved to this bed in the fall. It seems to have it all: full sun, good drainage and no watering after the bloom cycle is completed. Now I just have to figure out how to create the background to set them off as they so deserve. Any suggestions?

With all the driving around I’ve been doing lately, the dogwoods have especially captured my attention.

The pink ones seem to be the first to put in an appearance. While these would not be the chosen ones for my own yard, they do add sparkle to roadsides.

Here’s a closeup of those pink blossoms.

One property that I visited had this tree sporting both pink and white blossoms.

Upon closer inspection, I could see that the white-flowering branches were sprouting from below the graph.

This was probably my favorite of the early blooming dogwoods. I love the simplicity and purity of the bract/blossoms.

When we were shopping for a dogwood, we were warned away from the native Cornus florida because of its susceptibility to dogwood anthracnose. Indeed, the whips of dogwoods that came from the Arbor Day Society would seem to bear out that theory. The Kousas grew to adulthood and the Floridas konked out. On the other hand, this fine specimen stands in a field near our house. What to make of it?

The Kousas have a charm of their own, pointy little things that they are. Maybe if they were the temperamental ones, they would be my favorites…isn’t that kind of how it works? Here’s a site with info on all the many kinds of dogwoods. I still hanker after the red twig variety for winter interest, and am coaxing a few Cornus canadensis to act as ground cover in the woodland. Oh, and then there is that layer cake variegated beauty that would surely feel at home somewhere around here. We gardeners are so lucky…we never run low on things to wish for.

Around here, they seem to be taking up where Arborvitae left off. I managed to talk Richard out of those, but once the man makes up his mind, he is not to be deterred. Our landscape designing friend, Amy did her best to talk him out of it. After all, the very thing that recommends it as the perfect choice for monoculture hedges (perish the thought), its lightning speed growth rate, makes it a poor candidate for most landscaping situations.

Here’s another one of those hedges-in-the-making, and the component trees were half that size just a year ago. That’s what R wanted…instant gratification.

So here’s his tree, at the corner of his studio. It requires regular haircuts, but then, as I may have mentioned a time or two, R is a bit lopper-happy. He can hack away at his tree and it is pretty magnificent as a specimen…who’da thunk?

It was a dark and stormy day…but we went to the Rhododendron Society’s sale at the Crystal Springs Rhododendron Garden anyway.

The main sale is on Mother’s Day, and is held in the parking lot in front of the gardens. This early sale requires a walk through the gardens (such an imposition) to get to the sale.

The Rhodys are the main attraction, but underplantings, like these hellebores, keep it interesting.

Fallen petals…where’s the bride?

Looking back at the gatehouse across the bridge.

Looking the other way, I think this is a flowering plum hovering over the water and backed up by layers of understory.

The birds were having a fine time.

When I mentioned these groves of Rhodys, I was told that without the pruning, no one could walk through the property.

Inside the building glimpsed in the last photo were tables displaying blooms. Members of the society were on hand with a wealth of information.

This group of specimens was tropicals grown in a greenhouse.

R spinuliferum looks almost like a protea, with a cluster of tubular petals (there is no doubt a more scientific name) with threadlike sepals sticking out.

R reticulatum sports magenta blossoms before it leafs out.

Can you believe that this is an azalea? It is apparently in that transitional phase of being renamed, so I won’t add to the confusion here. Suffice it to say that I was blown away by the variety. I learned that with a little (make that a lot) planning, there can be Rhodys blooming in our gardens every month of the year, they can disguise themselves quite craftily, and if you develop an interest, there is a whole community waiting to embrace you. The Portland chapter of the American Rhododendron Society meets every third Thursday at 7:00pm at 40th and Woodstock.

I know what you are thinking: what did you buy?

That large-leaved beauty on the left is the prize: R sinogrande. It might need a bit of babying if we have more harsh winters, and if you know exactly how we should do that, we’re all ears. The one in flower is R oreothrephes, a species in pale lavender. The label says rose, so if it hadn’t been in bloom we would have passed it by. As I was guarding the plants while R went for the car, two different guys stopped to say it was their favorite. Oh, and the two rangy ones are the cheapies: two for $15 because nobody knows their names or what color the blooms will be. They will go out in our mixed hedgerow as a buffer against whatever the neighbors might dream up next.

See how bundled up everyone was? I’m not kidding you…it was COLD!

Across the street from where I was waiting, here is what I was looking at. Can you believe it?

Another Etsy find to pass along.

I’m still fairly new to Etsy, and it never occurred to me to look for plants there. Then this photo showed up in one of the Showcases and, well, one thing led to another. The spiral aloe shown here sold out immediately (small wonder) but Horticopia has lots of other interesting stuff. Worth a gander, if you don’t mind being tempted.

A few posts ago, we went for a walk in our woods. This time, we’re trying to locate the markers that tell us where our property ends. Machete in hand, Richard leads the way.

The first thing to stop me in my tracks were these trilliums. A smattering of them were sprinkled across the forest floor, with many more just emerging. I will have to go back in a week or so. You can see how here at the forest’s edge they are pushing through a carpet of English ivy. We have been hacking away at the ivy, with the help of neighbors, but it is persistent stuff, and has nearly strangled some magnificent trees.

As we dive deeper into the woods, the ivy and blackberries give way to natives like these fiddleheads. They are said to be a culinary delicacy, but the one time I ordered them in a restaurant they were a feast for the eyes, but just so so on the tongue. I would rather leave them in the woods where they arguably belong.

Patches of oxalis are just beginning to produce flowers, not that they depend on floral display for their charm.

Working our way to the bottom of the ravine, things begin to get boggy. This was one of only two skunk cabbage to come early to the party, but already our noses alerted us to their presence. There will be lots of them later on, so stand back.

Here is one of three itty bitty streams (or are they creeks?) that converge at the bottom and then empty into a small lake out by the main road. The whole area is boggy now. I jumped across the creek and went in to my knees…glad there was a hiking buddy to pull me out.

Love these patches of native Mahonia.

I leave you with the oddity of the day: a tree growing out of the stump of one of its ancestors. Can you see the roots embracing the sides of the stump? Always something new to see out there. Thanks for coming along.

I love the way Lonicera nitida ‘Lemon Beauty’ sets off other plants. I bought one from Cistus in ‘05 and stuck it in this berm. It flourished, with many branches bending low to the ground (an open invitation to take a stab at layering). Here’s how it works. Take one of those low-growing branches, and make a small nick on the underside where it will touch the ground. Make sure there is a good bit of branch beyond the cut.

I happen to have these U-pins left over from some long forgotten floral project, but you could as easily craft some from wire coat hangers. Use them to secure the branch to the ground where the nick is. Pile some soil over that spot. I did this with the Lonicera in ‘07. By ‘09, I had a crop of new shrubs. All that’s required is to sever the branch where it leads from the mother plant to the newly rooted babe, dig up the newbies and use them as you will.

Transplant to new quarters and gloat over saving as much as $20 per new plant. The latest issue of BBC Gardens Illustrated showed a clipped hedge of these plants in a formal garden. It was a striking counterpoint to the darker boxwood hedges. I happen to prefer letting things sprawl as they like. Either way, it is good to have a lot of them to play with. Other plants I have had success with using layering are heaths and heathers, hydrangeas and barberries. Any woody shrub would seem to be a good candidate.

When the plant tag described Oxydendrum arboreum as slow-growing, they weren’t kidding. See that little spot of red in the distance, toward the studio? That’s it after nine years. To be fair, we moved it from our former garden in ‘06, which would have set it back some, but still…

When it bloomed for the first time in late August, its other nickname, ‘lily of the valley tree’ made perfect sense.

The flowers are long lasting, so they are still in evidence as the leaves turn. It puts on a long show, with the foliage looking ever more aflame as the days go by. Hard rains cut the performance short this year. At the current rate, we will never see it reach its ultimate height of 30 feet. OK by me. I am content to watch the slo-mo progression of this very special tree.