Much of muchness? I don't think so...variations on a theme is more like it. Erigeron compositus...the cutleaf daisy.

November 5, 2013, 1:17 am

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Erigeron compositus 'Como'

The plant in question is on the lefthand side--the lavender daisy: I have grown it for forty years.. and if you scroll quickly down this blog you will see a bevy of similar plants. It would be easy to confuse them one with the next--but each is in fact a distinct genotype, a distinct phenotype and for a connoisseur as distinct from one another as a concerto by Telemann from one by Bach, or a fine Cabernet from Ripple. There are those for whom a sixth century mosaic of the Transfiguration on the apse of Saint Catherine in the Sinai would seem similar to the same image on the Church of the Holy Apostles in Thessalonica created almost a millenium later...these phenomena are all utterly distinct to my eyes (although I grant you I can't distinguish a Ford from a Saab, or one sports team from another)...we all have our priorities! And mine happen to be Erigeron...

I collected 'Como' on a glacial moraine on South Park where it was the only lavender cutleaf daisy among thousands of pure white ones: Paul Maslin and I had camped overnight on that Moraine on or about 1974. Since Erigeron are largely apomictic (reproducing asexually) I have maintained this clone for decades--growing it in vast numbers at Denver Botanic Gardens, distributing it through seed exchanges, and just generally cherishing it. I still have it here or there--but it is after all just a cutleaf daisy: it is rather like the 'Classic' clone I discuss below--only pale lavender blue rather than white and utterly charming to a daisy fancier like me. It blooms non stop spring to fall--here growing in the Pikes Peak trough at DBG's former Wildflower Treasures garden.

 

Erigeron compositus (tiny deep pinky lavender form)

Here's yet ANOTHER variation on the theme--a tiny pinky lavender form that is widely grown by rock gardeners. I believe this one came from Idaho and traces to Betty Lowry. It is outstanding (here growing in a trough in my home garden).

 

Erigeron compositus (ridiculously cute miniature)

This may be the tiniest and fuzziest and cutest one I have yet to see in this group: I took this picture last year at Denver Botanic Gardens where Mike Kintgen has obtained an especially choice miniature with vivid lavender purple flowers and bright orange disks--a super form desperate for a cultivar name! I must ask him where he got this!

 

 

Yet another Erigeron compositus ex the Bigthorns this time...

This one is half the size of 'Como' but twice the size of 'Idaho'--and a great rock garden plant--growing in my rock garden at home. There are no end to cutleaf daisies! Read on...

 

Erigeron compositus v. discoideus

Here and there throughout the West you will find areas where the cutleaf daisy does not have ray flowers: this "disk' form is homely I agree. But a genuine, bona fide, plant geek (or is it nerd?) like myself must have them ALL! All mine mine mine...heee heeee. (this is a disease isn't it?)....

 

Erigeron compositus'Red Desert'

This cultivar is near and dear to my heart. Some time in the early 1990's I was hosted for a few days at a ranch in the Red Desert of south central Wyoming where a friend of mine was working for the summer. The nearest town was Baggs a half hour away or so--and beyond that it was several more hours to such metropolitan centers as Wamsutter, Evanston and the like--in other words, this area is as near to nowhere as you can get in the Continental United States. The Red Desert is one of the most magnificent, enormous and fascinating areas--pock marked (alas) with more and more Oil and Gas pipelines, enormous coal strip mines and other mineral development....there is nevertheless plenty of nature still there. On one rock outcrop on my friend's ranch I found what seemed to be an especially dense mound of Erigeron compositus. I pinched a bit of seed. That winter, Bill Adams of Sunscapes Nursery was visiting, and I gave him the envelope with that pinch of seed. A year or so later I was visiting Bill and saw several flats of a very dense, miniature cutleaf daisy: I just had to have some! "Go ahead and help yourself--that's from the seed you collected in the Red Desert"--and the name has stuck!

 

Erigeron compositus'Red Desert'

This closeup really shows just how dense and bunlike the cushion is. What it doesn't show is that this plant can bloom prolifically for six or seven months in a year! A superficially very similar plant was collected on Mt. Adams by Rick Lupp of Mt. Tahoma Nursery--only that form is presumably more alpine in its origin. This one coming from a steppe environment has proven quite drought tolerant.

 

Erigeron compositus'Classic'

At first blush this may strike you as similar to 'Red Desert' but in fact this plant is almost three time the size. This form which I call 'Classic' is pretty much what you will encounter most anywhere in Colorado from 6000-10,000 feet (and higher too!). It is a super garden plant in its own right--these cushions are photographed at Denver Botanic Gardens' Rock Alpine Garden where there are quite a few specimens on the original Crevice Garden behind the Alpine House and elsewhere.

 

Erigeron compositus'Classic'

A closeup reveals just how hairy this form is, and how dense the leaf can be. Unlike 'Red Desert' which is almost stemless, this can have a stem two or more inches long.

 



Erigeron compositus'Classic'



Can't get enough of this plant--here on the back of the Succulent house.

Erigeron compositus 'Classic'

It's a classic--what can I say--notice how each shot of this shows it in a slightly different light?

 

 

Erigeron compositus 'Little Valley'

Almost twice the size and not nearly as hairy, this is also a commonly encountered race throughout the West--and the form most frequently sold in the Denver area: Little Valley wholesale nursery is the largest nursery selling native plants in the Denver area (and a good deal more) supplying many of the contractors and nurseries of the Denver area with woody plants as well as herbaceous. Their selection is vigorous and quite large--plants can get up to 6" tall and 8" or more across. These are growing in some small containers in my garden where they have persisted for years.

 

Erigeron compositus 'Little Valley'

I suspect the cutleaf daisy that forms big mats at the Garden at Kendrick Lake is this same cultivar...these are two shots of the same colony taken a year apart--pretty impressive!

Erigeron compositus'Little Valley

 

 

Erigeron compositus'Little Valley'

A closeup of the Little Valley form--showing how robust it is in cultivation. Compare it to the monster below--which is easily twice the size!

 

Erigeron compositus 'Giant'

I obtained this form as "Erigeron trifidus"  which is essentially a giant Erigeron compositus from the Pacific Northwest. For many years this formed large mounds and mats in the Wildflower Treasures garden at Denver Botanic Gardens. The mat below was probably two feet across. This is the "Landscape" form of  the species--the large form you may want to use as a groundcover, or in the forefront of a xeric perennial border. I collected and shared seed of this form for years--although I'm nervous now that this garden has been replaced by a Potager that we may have lost this race from the Botanic Gardens? I sincerely hope not!

 

Erigeron compositus 'Giant'

One of the many vast mats of this that we once grew at the Gardens... 

 

Erigeron compositus 'Giant' The "Giant" form would behave quite nicely when it sowed into a trough in this garden--looking almost petite. But put the same plant in open loam and stand back!   I suspect when you first looked through this blog you saw a blur of whitish little daisies--and I admit that my camera may not do them justice...but these little waifs have been fellow travelers in my gardens and in my life for decades. I think few American wildflowers are as versatile, bloom as long or are nearly as cute as these amazing and ubiquitous cutleaf daisies of the West--and I am sure many more forms are lurking out there in the wild for us to tap for our gardens!

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Just before the last gust of autumn...

November 7, 2013, 8:02 pm

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Pyrus calleryana probably 'Bradford'

Although we've had several nights in the low 20's that have put an end to the show of many deciduous trees, the various Callery pears around Denver are persisting with color...Wikipedia tells me these grow in Vietnam as well as China. How amazing it is that they are hardy at all! November would be dull indeed in Denver if it wasn't for the many Callery and not nearly enough Ussurian pears which are blazing on almost every block (upscale neighborhoods have the most)...


Back yard ablaze! just a week ago: much duller today!

Rosa woodsii in my dry border

Backyard in early November



Daphne x mantensiana

I've seen daphnes blooming in several gardens (Dan Johnson had 'Summer Ice' in fresh bloom today... and good old Carol is blooming around town)

 

Asparagus verticillatus

This wonderful asparagus collected by Harlan Hamernik in Mongolia is never more striking than now.




Physocarpus'Diabolo' and Prunus in background

One doesn't think of 'Diabolo' as having fall color but it does--enhanced with yellow foliage around it of course--one of our borders.


Non clonal Quercus rubra

How much more pleasing a row of trees are when each is slightly different in color in the fall! But each year sees more clonal street trees trotted out by nurserymen--responding to Landscape Architects who want predictability (and of course benefiting from having patentable plants)...a vicious circle where biodiversity (and the future health of our streetscapes)  is the victim.

English oak interloper

I love the single Quercus robur in the row--some of us like the thought we might be the rugged individualist. This one turns long after the red oaks on either side...




Quercus robur

I am forever astonished to find huge English oaks scattered here and there around Denver. They love it here. And what majestic plants--even young ones like this.



Aster tataricum

It's not the flashiest plant, nor the tidiest. But towering Tatarian aster waits to show color until the very end of the season, and thereby earns our respect. It's still making a show in our grand border at the Gardens...

A closeup

 

 

And even closer...

Ericameria laricifolius

This remarkable shrub waits till the end of summer to bloom. Native to the desert Southwest, it has no right to be so hardy: fortunately, plants don't read books! It's mostly in seed, but still has flowers in November!

Columnar beech (Fagus sylvatica'Dawyck') in the Romantic Gardens

This fall has made me upgrade my respect for Autumn: the rich colors everywhere have been so wonderful for weeks and weeks--I'm almost giddy with fall coloration!


Viburnum carlesii on the left, V. x burkwoodii on the right



I do not recall the fall color on the fragrant viburnums being so very rich as it is this year. Now I am even more anxious to have one at home!

Fragrant viburnums in fall color

Viburnum carlesii

Viburnum x burkwoodii

Acer palmatum

The grove of a dozen or so Acer palmatum along the Eastern face of Plantasia are finally getting some height--and of course their scarlet fall color blazes like a forest fire...

Acer palmatum

These are almost clichés on the two coasts, but still rare as hens' teeth here in the hinterlands. Ken Druse showed a massive specimen over a century old in his garden: these will do well to last so long, and if they do, the future will owe Mark Fusco a great deal--he was the one who planted them.

Acer palmatum

Fagus sylvaticus 'Asplenifolia'

I remember when this beech grew along the endless driveway leading to the nearly mythical Western Evergreen Nursery in Golden (the finest nursery in 20th Century Colorado). We were lucky to obtain this and many other gems when that nursery was sold to Coors for development. This is now getting some very respectable size--and is surely the champion of its kind in the state (champion cultivar, to clarify--there are many larger Purple European beeches around town I know..)

Quercus shumardii above--and crown of state champion Shumard oak in center distance



Quercus turbinella (above), Amsonia below

Galanthus peschmanii in the Rock Alpine Garden

This one always sems to wait for the frirst hard frost to really bloom!

Muhlenbergia reverchonii

Surely the most amazing hardy grass--creating luminescent billows even in the middle of the day: this will be Plant Select next year--and something tells me it will be BIG!

Muhlenbergia reverchonii with Sorbus aucuparia in distance

Muhlenbergia reverchonii with Echinacea pallida in foreground

Dryland Mesa cacti taking on winter color

The cacti are shriveling up a bit--but still staguescque.

Quercus buckleyi in orange color, Cupressus arizonica on left

Still orange last week, this will turn a deep crimson this week after frost: this magnificent oak has had no supplemental irrigation for a quarter century: it should be on every block!

Quercus rubra

Most of our red oaks are mediocare yellow or orange--but a few have bright color: this one near where I go to Yoga practice was unbelievably bright...

Quercus rubra

I would love to see many more oaks on every block: there are so many to choose from (and many not yet growing in Denver). After too really chilly nights many of these trees have lost their color, but the oaks, mountain ash, Callery pears and more are still ablaze. Better go out and do a little leaf peeping while they last! Meanwhile, Shakespeare's haunting valedictory rings in my ears (only the little "sleep" for me now is Winter!)

                                           Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
                                           As I foretold you, were all spirits and
                                           Are melted into air, into thin air:
                                           And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
                                           The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
                                           The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
                                           Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
                                           And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
                                           Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
                                           As dreams are made on, and our little life
                                           Is rounded with a sleep.

                                           William Shakespeare
                                           From The Tempest, Act 4 Scene 1

Geraniums Aflame in November...

November 9, 2013, 8:52 am

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Geranium fremontii at Cherokee Ranch, late October 2013

It's constructive to compare the first two pictures: it's hard to believe these are very comparably sized, and that each would look so much like the other--despite their growing 60 miles apart! Typical Geranium fremontii, by the way, is a much rangier plant that has been lumped with the very different G. caespitosum by Botanists who should know better: I'll leave that for another blog...

Geranium fremontii in South Park, eary July 2011

There is no question that geranium in bloom are lovely and well deserving their ensconced place in our gardens as groundcovers and summer wonders. But November is the month when their foliage finally catches fire--I always am amazed how green most stay through September and October, but by the time hard frost hits hard, they get the hint and turn....magnificently!



Geranium dalmaticum

This miniature is popular with rock gardeners, but should be better known: Plant Select is aiming to do that by promoting this next spring as part of the Petites program. I have hyperlinked both programs--you should familiarize yourself with them: I have worked almost a quarter century as part of the team that has made these a wonderful way of promoting deserving new and underutilized plants...the geranium will pop up early next year on the Petites page--check back then!



Geranium dalmaticum closeup

The leaves end up being quite red, although earlier in the fall there's much yellow in evidence.


Geranium pretense at DBG

A rambunctious weed--but such a beautiful one! I've admired this in Europe and wild high on the Altai Mountains of Central Asia--and have removed hundreds of unwanted seedlings from my rock gardens. But never altogether!

 

Geranium regelii at my garden

 This has been lumped with pretense, and does indeed look like a miniature form. But my clones are different in their fall color as well as size...



Geranium renardii at DBG this week

Geranium renardii closeup

 When you consider how rather homely the palish flowers on Renard's geranium really are, I wonder why I am so fond of it...this clump has persisted for over 30 years in the same spot--one of relatively few plants that have made it so long at Denver Botanic Gardens.

Geranium x cantabrigense

This is not one of the "standard" clones--this is a seedling that occurred spontaneously at Stonecrop in New York and shared with the Gardens. It is also easily 30 years old or more. The pink flowers are lovely enough--but the fall foliage is almost showier..



Geranium magniflorum

Jim Archibald and I collected this at the base of Joubert's pass in the East Cape--although I have seen it growing abundantly at the highest elevations throughout Lesotho. It has possibly been confused with the utterly different Geranium magnificum and not made the impact that it should: it is a stunning garden plant and unlike any other geranium I grow its foliage actually PERSISTS ALL WINTER--i.e. it's a true evergreen. And it looks like very lustrous, very finely cut parsley...isn't that reason enough to grow a plant?

 

Geranium sanguineum closeup at DBG

And finally, the "bloody geranium" itself: the hot magenta or pink flowers hardly justify the Latin and common names, but the fall foliage more than justifies the sanguine epithet!

November on my horticultural calendar is brightly colored by the Callery pears all over Denver, by the Oaks and the coloring of geraniums in all the gardens I love...and in nature of course (that biggest Garden of them all!)

Superior Twinspur: fact sheet!

November 17, 2013, 8:30 am

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Diascia integerrima Coral Canyon® at Colorado Springs Water Conservation garden

David Salman once told me that he thought Coral Canyon® was the best plant I ever brought back from the wild. It was chosen as a Plant Select introduction in 2000.  I might think there might be a succulent or two that might vie for that honor, but I have to say that I think this clone has more than lived up to my hopes. Alas--I don't think that many gardeners outside Colorado know this plant yet. This blog is meant to set things straight--



Diascia integerrima Coral Canyon®

This picture shows the upright habit, and delicate coral pink of this taxon. Diascia in general are well known and widely grown among keen gardeners--but most are really miffy annuals that need a great deal of cosseting--except for this one. Coral Canyon® is a landscape plant that loves to grow in full sun, in real soil, and it is a reliable perennial in Denver, given a modicum of good soil and water. Plant any one of the fifty or so Diascia that have been in cultivation in a typical garden bed, and most will poop out before midsummer, and few indeed will come back a second hear. I have had Coral Canyon® plants persist for a decade or more in an optimal spot. And I have seen it (ever so sparingly) growing around the country. The simple, sad fact is that this best of class is still essentially unknown by the great majority of keen gardeners in America: and more is the pity! The first time I grew Diascia integerrima it was the typical wild form, that grows a yard or more tall and flops. I remember Kelly Grummons of Timberline Gardens coming by in the early 1990's to Denver Botanic Gardens, admiring our large clump housed up against the then Alpine House, Kelly remarked "if we only had a compact form of this it would be a winner" (prophetic words, those...)

 

Diascia integerrima Coral Canyon® at City and County Building

This impressionistic tableau was planted in what had been lawn in  the Denver's City and County building (the mayor's offices) In fact, Mayor Hickenlooper was the one who mandated xeric gardens around Denver in response to the great drought of 1999-2003. We transformed a water-intensive lawn (full of nut sedge incidentally) into a formal parterre filled with drought adapted perennials--a design that became blurred as the long blooming perennials melded into this guache like vision.




Civic Center garden--overview

Same garden...from a bit further away: I love the contrast between the pink Coral Canyon® and the bright Lavender which was used to edge the beds.

Diascia integerrima Coral Canyon® at Civic Center, Closeup

The pink of twinspur lightened up the middle of the garden beds, combining wonderfully with the other tints. Twinspur incidentally refers to the two nectary bearing spurs on the back of the flower that require a specialized insect for pollination--these rarely set seed in cultivation as a consequence. Which is why Coral Canyon® is propagated asexually, and was trademarked as a consequence.

Dwarf Race of Diascia integerrima  growing wild on East Cape Drakensberg



A year or so after Kelly expressed a wish that a smaller form of Diascia integerrima existed, I found myself on the wonderful alpine slopes near Naude's Nek, in South Africa. here and there I saw a very small twinspur that resembled the massive clumps I'd seen on Sani Pass, for instance, only less than a foot tall...the picture above and below shows these clumps in the wild--in full bloom. I found a single capsule of seed on these that appeared to be nearly ripe--and from that capsule ultimately derives the plant we now call Coral Canyon®! The cultivar ultimately derives from the wild--so could not be patented. But the name for it could and was trademarked, hence the "registered" symbol following its name: cumbersome. But it designates that this clone is indeed Plant Select's consistent offering. And it has no peer.

Closer view of dwarf Diascia integerrima on the east

Looking at this sparse wildling it's hard to imagine that it can make such a dense mound of color that can persist for months in the garden. Or that this plant would thrive in a variety of soils and climates around the world.

 

If you haven't yet tried Coral Canyon®, I hope you give it a try! I doubt that given a good soil in sun that it will fail to impress you!

 

 

 

An Irish garden in Wyoming?

September 16, 2013, 11:00 am

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Jane and Mike Sullivan

I might have said an ENGLISH garden, but with a name like Sullivan, I might get in trouble saying that. Whatever style you may wish to call it, there is no question that the Sullivan garden in Casper, Wyoming, is wonderful any time of year--including at the end of a long hot summer. I first met Jane when she was serving actively as First Lady of Wyoming in the 1990's: she was on a mission to promote, preserve, promulgate and just plain appreciate the wildflowers of her native state. She organized many symposia and conferences to promote the awareness and cultivation of wildflowers along highways, and make Wyomingans (and visitors) realize the enormous value of the native floral bounty. She invited me to participate in several of these meetings--a highlight of my professional life.

 

Like all statesmen (and stateswomen!) Jane and Mike practice what they have preach: their garden is a bower of beauty. Notice the sweet autumn clematis (Clematis paniculata) blooming behind them...the beginning of a theme!

View of the Sullivan garden towards the house

There is a greensward, and no end of treasures tucked around it...



Clematis vernayi

One of the first things I spotted when I came in the garden was this garland of clematis embracing a birdhouse: Tibetan clematis! I was amazed and delighted to find that they had a wonderful form of this subtle (and beautiful) clematis! You can imagine how thrilled I was moreover to find that some of the seed was very close to ripe (and they were generous enough to let me have a few heads of it)...

Closer up

I have admired this clematis on the coasts--and have been wanting to grow it: you can imagine how impressed I was to find such a good form: we don't have any forms of this (as far as I know) at Denver Botanic Gardens--and I certainly don't have any at home!

It has a superficial resemblance to the rather weedy Clematis orientalis that is so abundant in Clear Creek Canyon above Denver--as well as to the somewhat less weedy (but still rambunctious) Clematis tangutica that I used to grow. This one possesses all their charm and more, and is well behaved: a good quality in clematis as it is in children (and pets!)...There were numerous clematis throughout the garden...come to think of it, there is a correlation between the abundance of clematis and the quality of gardens in my book!

 

And roses galore!

Champion cottonwood at the back of the garden....

Nothing dazzles a plant nerd like myself more than "venerability" in plants--if you have an ancient specimen on your property, you have it made. In addition to all the art and gorgeous plants throughout their garden, the Sullivans have the largest Plains Cottonwood (Populus sargentii) in their City growing on their lot: a little like having a Rodin or Henry Moore sculpture--only alive!



Bark on the cottonwood

The incredibly thick and corrugated bark on the Cottonwood always delights me. What a treat to have this so near at hand!

A grotto with Virgin

Art in many manifestations appears tastefully throughout this garden (not to mention the gorgeous paintings in their home): Jane is manifestly an artist herself, the way she places and plants the art in the garden. What a lovely shady retreat from the hot Wyoming summer sun?

Closer view of a lovely piece of folk art

I don't usually associate fuchsias with Wyoming...



A few more pieces of garden art artfully displayed



Heptacodium miconioides in full bloom in a container!



The border was past full bloom, but full of texture

The garden featured the most wonderful edgings, walks and brick work---you can tell they spent time in Europe (Mike was the U.S. Ambassador to Ireland during the Clinton Administration--and Jane was busy there trying to restore an immense ten acre garden around the Ambassadorial residence: she has lots of good stories about that)...

A corner of the Garden cottage--with a xeriscape in front

You can see the clematis I was so impressed with on the wall--but here I am also highlighting the wonderful container and the ceramic decorative chain I thought was stunning (by a local artist)...



Obligatory skull motif (Georgia O'Keefe strikes again)

I couldn't resist adding this shot...

If you follow my blog you will have noticed that most of the gardens I have featured seem to contain a skull: I'm feeling terribly déclassé and am in search of an appropriate skull to add to mine! Even this elegant garden has room for a whopper of a cranium with horns!



Jane designed the hardscape and has put much of it in herself around the garden!

Is this not the most stunning way to accommodate drainage from your roof? Jane pointed out that she brings back many of these round stones from her trips around the world...



Granite slabs inset in the walk add contrast and interest...

A contractor had salvaged granite that had been discarded after a renovation at Wyoming's capitol--and it found a very appropriate home with this former Governor! For a Democrat to have been a popular Governor in Wyoming, you realize that Mike is a real statesman...I can think of several hundred Congressmen I would gleefully trade in for Mike and his ilk--alas, public service is less and less attractive to people of his temperament. If we were a wise electorate, we should settle for nothing less...

Gorgeous container plantings of course!

I was charmed by this rather simple but captivating fountain...



Art and plant perfectly combined...



Lombardy Poplar in the front yard...

Wonderfully balancing the giant cottonwood in the back yard, the Sullivans planted what they thought was a cottonwood in front: it has become a champion Lombardy in the interim (they were not pleased)...but I have always had a fondness for these sentinel poplars.

I had not seen the Sullivans in over a decade, so having some time with them this past weekend was a great pleasure for me. It takes a measure of charisma and charm for anyone to achieve success in public service as the Sullivans have in their day. But now returned to private life, they are even more lovable and admirable than ever! I hope they don't object my giving you a glimpse of the garden of two of my favorite Americans!.

Loved, lost and FOUND! (a few more trophies of the past)

September 6, 2013, 1:08 pm

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Haplocarpha scaposa on the highveld north of Harrismith, Orange Free State

More pictures from the past...most of them plants long gone. A few still cling to my garden with their fingernails...many of these I haven't thought of for years because they were transparencies I no longer use. But thanks to Ann Frazier, who has painstakingly scanned hundreds of old pictures in recent months, they suddenly have a new lease on life--and are found truly again! As I look at these, I remember days long gone and magical scenes in nature and in my garden--many of which will never recur.

Haplocarpha scaposa

Although abundant in the Drakensberg and the Highveld, this wonderful daisy is no longer in our collections. I never saw it growing as happily as it was one October day on the veld north of Harrismith..we stopped our bus to check them out!



Haplopappus (Stenotis) acaulis

One of the most abundant and widespread DYC of the West, I adore this plant where on the alpine tundra of the Sierra Nevada, or sagebrush steppe and desert throughout the intermountain region.

Helichrysum albobrunneum

We grew this for years and harvested lots of seed...but somehow it slipped away...



Helichrysum milfordiae

Another helichrysum that thrives in Scotland and Sweden and not so much for me...abundant in the high Drakensberg...

Helichrysum pagophilum

Abundant in the Black Mountains of Lesothos--this grew everywhere in vast mounds. Not so much for us in the garden however...


Helichrysum retortoides

This one persisted for years...until it didn't. Saw it recently, probably at Edinburgh--it's still around.



Heliophilum sp.

This was perennial and glorious and lasted several years...I forgot to harvest seed. One of the plants I most regret losing from my South African expeditions...

Hermannia "stricta" on Hantamsberg

Probably not really stricta...this won many prizes when shown at AGS shows in Britain over the last few decades...



Hermannia "stricta" on the Karoo

A horrible picture of what probably IS stricta taken on the karoo...


Hermannia sp. on pass east of Cradock, East Cape

This one was photographed high enough it may be hardy!



Hesperochiron pumilus (and friends)

This was in a trough for a few years. I wish I could recreate this picture!--the white star gentian makes an interesting twin...

Rose Mallows (Hibiscus moscheutos)

I love these things--if I only had a place to grow them...

Holothrix cf thodei?

And orchid. And rather homely. Would love to grow it nonetheless...



Hymenoxys lapidicola and Lesquerella alpina

A nice color combo, no? I still grow both of these, but they don't look this good any more...


Hypericum cerastoides

I have seen this the wild--and still have one or two struggling in the garden. One of my faves...



Hypericum sp.

Long ago lost this and its name as well...



Juniperus excelsa in Pakistan Himalaya

Somebody had to keep warm and cut this ancient juniper...

Juniperus excelsa in Pakistan Himalaya

And this one two--notice the forest beyond for scale...



Juniperus turkestanica in Pakistan Himalaya

They haven't quite gotten to this one yet...



Jurinea sp. in bud

It was monocarpic, and I neglected to save and sow seed...

Jurinea sp. in bud

I think I prefer it in bud!


Lachenalia sp. on the Roggeveld, Karoo

I only saw a few lachenalias at high elevations: boy would I love to grow this one outside!



Lamium eriophilum

This incredible endemic of the Toros Dag really needs no comment. One year I had hundreds of self sown seedlings...



NOT Leontice, but filed here in error: check back for the REAL name (Henrik Zetterlund corrected me...now to find his correction)..



Leontopodium nivale

It's fashionable to grouse about Eidelweiss...there are in fact dozens of spectacular species in the Himalayas, but this European is undeniably stunning...



Leucojum vernum v. carpaticum

I grew this superbly in several gardens. But in my current garden it grows but won't bloom...



Lilium candidum

For years I drove by and admired these lilies in June. Then one day they were gone and replaced with something pedestrian and I ignore the yard as I go by...(every day just about)...


Lilium formosanum pricei and Scrophularia macrantha

One of my more inspired combos--now long gone (don't even remember where I planted this...) Oh yes! It was early at Quince (I recognize the background now)...



Linanthastrum nuttallii

You can walk through acres of this on Rabbitears pass in late June or July. And we grew it for years in this garden. It and the garden are no more...I think they changed the plant's name as well..

Linum aretioides

I wish I still had this Turkish delight...



Loasa lateritia

A token of one of the most magical days in my lifetime--above Laguna del Maule, where I walked through acres of rosulate violets ankle deep--and this was on a steep scree overlooking paradise.



Lobelia x vedrariensis

These lasted a few years...a long time ago!



Lysichiton americanum

Another day I shall not forget in late April 1981 at Savill Gardens. Possibly the most wonderful garden visit I have ever had. Late afternoon--golden light and almost no other visitors. Somewhere I have pictures of glades full of this species of narcissus or that one--and the only slide scanned so far is this stretch of stream--on the other side it was all white the Russian cousin...I would like to go back to that most magnificent of English gardens one more time in the spring.....

Regal blues

November 20, 2013, 6:38 am

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Delphinium grandiflorum

 Who doesn't sing the blues, when it comes to gardens? There are simply not enough blues: knowing that, why are delphiniums not more often seen? This outrageous clump bloomed magnificently at Dan Johnson's home garden for months it seemed this summer. I had Delphinium grandiflorum self-sowing so exuberantly in the Rock Alpine Garden in the early years I pulled it all out (and have regretted that ever since: it was a midsummer wonder).


Delphinium nuttallii

 Not all larkspurs are summer bloomers--of course: this is a native tuberous rooted species that acts like a bulb--popping up and blooming in the spring and dying down promptly. Here it is in my meadow in early May--I've been delighted that it's begun to self sow (at least the rabbits don't eat THIS!). The blue is just as fetching, although with violet undertones.

Delphinium occidentale

 There are three high altitude larkspurs in our mountains that grow in mesic habitats: I have never tried growing this one, which I suspect might be growable. I photographed this above Crested Butte this July where it grew by the thousand in the lush meadows. The similar, but huskier Delphinium barbeyi from further north hates our summer heat. Strange that I have never seen such a fabulous potential garden plant in a single Colorado garden: what HAVE we been up to? Watching the Broncos instead I suppose?



Delphinium barbeyi dwarf

Here is my nemesis: I have tried this many times--like D. occidentale this grows in subalpine meadows, but really hates the lower elevations. Usually five or six feet tall, John and Peggy White took me to an alpine meadow high above Silverton where there were dozens of these tiny alpine specimens a foot or more tall. Alas, they seemed to be almost as intractable--although they would thrive in Steamboat or Vail where there are exquisite gardens. The brooding deep purple black color is a hallmark of midsummer in our mountains.



Delphinium alpesre

Of course, the real gem of our native delphinium is this tiny alpine that is quite rare. I have only seen it twice (and never re-located the hillside on Hoosier pass where I first saw it forty years ago despite many attempts). Fortunately, I know just where it grows on West Spanish Peak, where Bill Adams and I have climbed many times to visit it. I just realized that after growing it a decade or more I may have lost my last plant in my alpine garden: time for another climb this coming fall!


Delphinium pylzowii

 This has become my loveliest pest: like a more willowy D. grandiflorum, this closely allied taxon is seeding all over the central bed in my rock garden, coming up in the middle of saxifrages and drabas--it pains me to have to root them out, half destroying their predated cushion in the process. They open their first flowers in May most years, blazing all through the summer months. Believe it or not--there are still a few fresh blossoms on these and it's November 20 today: making this my champion delphinium for long season of bloom (that seven months if you haven't counted). Not bad for a blue!

Delphinium pylzowii

I took this picture a month or so ago. Notice the buds coming on--they're the ones that are open now...

Delphinium sp. unknown

I don't have a clue what this magnificent thing is: it was growing in one of the many fabulous private rock gardens in Denver (this garden happens to belong to the owner of a gold mining company who is one of Denver's leading philanthropists: good friends to have!)



Delphinium tricorne

I am so jealous of these in the Rock Alpine Garden: this husky eastern cousin to our nuttallii makes a spectacle for a few weeks in mid spring and dies away. I have to get some (Munchkin Nursery sells it...) I have seen woodlands in the Midwest full of this in spring. And Norman Deno grew it like a weed in his amazing State College garden.



Delphinium geyeri

 A truly horrible picture of one of our best delphiniums. This grows in dense patches along the Grand Hogback just at the west of Denver, making a spectacular display along the foothill highway for miles every June. I drive that way deliberately several times each summer to admire it among the cacti and yuccas--which is where Dan Johnson has naturalized it in our Plains Garden. One of America's greatest xeriscape plants--and you will not find it in a local nursery,,,,of course!



Delphinium virescens

Two or three times I've seen this pale larkspur sold by Jeff Ottersberg's Wild Things Nursery in Pueblo: It's never quite the right time when I see the flats for sale to plant them in my xeriscape, so I have missed out on adding this sprightly (if rather unprepossessing) native perennial to my garden. DRATS!

Delphinium elatum in Kazakhstan steppe

 And the holy grail: we found acres of the famous "Pacific Northwest Hybrid" style classic delphinium growing on the windy, dry steppes of Kazakhstan: I think we pamper these too much. The best delphiniums I've ever seen in America were growing in think clay all over Newcastle, Wyoming--forming huge clumps with literally dozens of stems. It's been bred to death in Europe and the Pacific Northwest to tolerate pedalfer soils, but on its native steppe its growing on pedocals in hot baking sun.

Delphinium elatum

The flowers on many specimens here on the foothills of the Altai mountains were as showy and brilliant as any of the so-called "hybrids" (which are just gussied up really--I prefer nature always). We essentially had a crop failure on this wild form (something my clever boss reminds me of from time to time--nothing slips by him). Fortunately, there is banked seed in Germany...

 

Delphinium semibarbatum

 And now my Grail: the ultimate delphinium for me is the golden larkspur of Central Asia. I grew a truly deep yellow-gold form for many years (it was in full bloom the day Jim and Jenny Archibald first flew to Colorado: June 17, 1987: a day I shall not forget because my daughter was born that same day. In fact this may have been the only plant in the Rock Alpine Garden that impressed Jim at the time). We got seed from a commercial source and grew it a few years ago--and it produced this pale, diaphanous thing almost identical to what Mike Bone and I saw north of the Tien Shan in Kazakhstan--not the bright yellow gold one I grew once. I love them both. I look forward to the day our xeriscapes are full of both forms of "Zalil"...and the literally dozens of other choice delphiniums that are found throughout all Eurasia and in all the deserts, steppes, montane forests and alpine slopes of America as well (including the red ones too--another blog!): strange indeed that so few of these are grown !

It's a gas...............................plant!

November 21, 2013, 10:28 pm

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Gasplants gone wild in Wisconsin (Sachtjen garden)

I know, I know...My silly titles. Full of pleonasm, paranomasia, and persistent and pestiferous alliterations...so be it! Life is too short to be too serious. Dictamnus is truly a gas to grow--although not always easy to find in nurseries: a dirty little secret I will share with you: it transplants rather easily despite what the literature says! Marlyn Sachtjen--an almost mythically ambitious gardener in Waunakee, Wisconsin--had it self sowing wildly throughout her garden.

At my old home (no longer mine, alas)

Above are a few of literally dozens of plants I had at our old house. My ex transplanted these from the first of three cutting gardens we once had at DBG when it was being torn up (it was a cutting garden, then Wildflower Treasures and now a large Potager)...they moved just fine. I dug up no end of seedlings here to share--and many went below...



at my NEW home (in high spring with roses)

Here's part of my NEW garden--the triangle bed in its full pink phase. Each spring I pot up dozens of seedlings which are ready to share in a month or so--or grow cheerfully through the summer to plant in the fall. This picture taken earlier this spring.



Same garden as the last, a few years earlier...

This picture was taken eight years ago: the bed was sparser. That peony on the far left was dug up (a pink form of Paeonia officinalis from Bluebird) to my chagrin....but has come back from the roots...worth a blog of its own!



At Eudora (the old place)...makes me very nostalgic...

This shows a single plant much better--the flowers remind me a bit of azaleas flowers. It's amazing what a range of soils and exposures this tolerates--from heavy clay or sandy soils that can be completely unwatered in our dry climate...but it thrives just as well in rich loam regularly watered--or here in a rock garden.




The albino at Quince (the new place)...

An evening shot of the pure white form is as lovely as the pink. I treasure my big husky plants out front--here you can see that the giant Reed grass (Arundo donax'Variegata') is starting to come up: completely swamps this part of the garden by midsummer--but the gas plant doesn't seem to mind the competition at all.

Growing in a huge clump of Arundo donax'Variegata'

Here a neighboring clump is shown in early morning light--combined with a wonderfully complementary clump of Clematis integrifolia--I'd love to pretend we planned this! This is probably a good place to mention that it's called gas plant because it produces a volatile oil you can ignite on a warm day that will envelope the whole plant in flames. One is also obligated to mention that this is in the Citrus family, and has a surprisingly strong citrus-like smell when brushed. Oh yes--it can produce dermatitis on some sensitive skins--so watch out (not on mine--I brush and handle it all through the season with no problems)

Dictamnus angustifolius in Kazakhstan

I was thrilled to find masses of Dictamnus throughout Kazakhstan--growing mostly on the dry, open steppe. It differs from the more Western Asian forms in subtle ways. Beaver Creek Greenhouose in British Columbia sells a Dictamnus alaicus which finally bloomed for me this year--looking almost exactly the same as this taxon.... Of course--as a collector, I need them ALL! And if you've read this far, you probably do as well...

 

 

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There is a certain slant of light on winter afternoons....

November 23, 2013, 11:43 pm

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Quercus shumardii

Last Thursday we knew the temps would plummet Thursday night, so I made sure I got a picture of my Shumard oak in the morning, not knowing if the bright red color would persist (it sort of has)--I remember planting this when it was six or so feet high out of a five gallon pot from Home Depot (I think) and a gardening friend came by and (to my horror) snipped off the leader with his clippers. I wanted him to die. It did develop a new leader eventually...most of these pictures will be bathed with that oblique light of late autumn (or is it early winter), that Emily Dickinson alludes to: I will print her wonderful poem at the very end of this blog to save you looking it up if you're the curious type (and if you're reading this you probably are).



Pellaea atropurpurea

Tony Avent thought my rock brake was special--must remember to send him spore!



Ilex verticillata

The deciduous holly at the gardens is immense--but my little one in the rock garden is CUTE! And out of focus I know--still had to share it.



Papaver nudicaule

An Iceland poppy that survived the summer is already in bloom by our Orchid pavilion...undaunted by a month of frosts. We'll see how it holds up through the deep freeze this weekend!



Promenade along the Orangery

I think that's a spiraea behind, and maybe an Oregano in front: the color contrast (green and yellow gold) was what I loved when I took this picture...



Rosa crispa

That's not really the scientific epithet: we still have freeze dried rose flowers on many of our shrub roses...not sure which one this is...
..


Rosa crispa'Alba'

Not sure of this cultivar either...another bogus name...


Nandina domestica

One does not often see "Heavenly Bamboo" in Denver, and flowers are even rarer hereabouts. But this one loves to grow along Shady Lane (across from the Orangery). Very Christmassy don't you think?



Geranium magniflorum

This magnificent South African geranium has virtually disappeared from Plant Select growers--although we have huge masses of it all over Denver Botanic Gardens: among its many wonderful traits are that it is a true evergreen (most all other geraniums go deciduous in winter). The finely cut foliage is another plus...



Potager

Ebi Kondo--an estraordinary horticulturist indeed--is managing to keep things lively in the vegetable garden even in late November!


Cupressus arizonica 'Pendula'

We have not one, but two of these outlandish giant, weeping cypresses-both gifts of Alan Tower of Spokane--an amazing nurseryman there...they look as through they're straight out of Dr. Suess, don't you think?



Plains Garden

I love the glistening late afternoon light through the seedheads of our wonderful native blazing star (Liatris punctata). Try as I may--I have scattered thousands of seeds and planted dozens of liners--I cannot get this dang plant to grow in my own postage stamp prairie at home. I grow so many other native prairie plants in it--this one HAS to like it: I shall try again next year. At least I can enjoy it at work!



Mahonia fremontii

This picture is so deceptive--this shrub is enormous. Visiting nurserymen and plantsmen go crazy over this--most recently the unflappable Joseph Tychonievich of Arrowhead Alpines who came very close to losing his cool (figuratively of course) over this plant. The silvery blue is never more stunning than contrasting with the orange red of Quercus buckleyi in the distance...I love icy blue and orange together!


Agave havardiana on Dryland Mesa

I can never have enough of giant agave rosettes. This one is in the Dryland mesa combining so well with the rest of the Chihuahuan rabble behind it: this corner is one of my favorite spots at Denver Botanic Gardens (pretty near every few feet of the 25 acres seems to be becoming my favorite spot in recent years! I live in paradise you know!)


Phlox pungens

Hard to believe this crazy phlox was only named a few decades ago by Bob Dorn. Just looking at this seems to summon up the hoodoos of Beaver Rim--its rugged Wyoming home--and the stiff breezes there--one of America's most beautiful and little known corners. And here it is, blooming in the Rock Alpine Garden at the end of November!



Townsendia sp. and Convolvulus boissieri v. boissieri

A rare, choice bindweed from southern Spain, and a tiny townsendia from the West--looking rather cozy together in early winter....the silvery foliage of Convolvulus boissieri must be seen to be believed!



Berberis diehlsiana

This ancient mound of Barberry is nearly eight feet tall and a dozen or so feet across. The long chains of yellow flowers in spring are echoed by the yellow foliage in late autumn. Very witty! This spiny monster makes a very effective barrier plant.



Crocus speciosus

Several brave crocuses are trying to bloom still in late November!


Quercus robur (Fastigiate seedling)

There used to be a large hawthorn trying to suppress this oak--a self sown seedling from the giant columnar English oak in the neighboring park. I remember when this first germinated and I wondered whether or not to pull it: subsequent caretakers of this garden chose the oak over the hawthorn! There is another columnar true English oak near the entrance, as well as two towering hybrids between English and American oaks ('Crimson Spire' appropriately enough) flanking the LED information kiosk inside the front entrance. Some plants one must grow in multiples. Oaks especially!



Erigeron peregrinus

Brave little fleabane reblooming in late fall/early winter...


Berberis x mentorensis

I believe Mike Kintgen was the one who cleverly planted this evergreen barberry on a problem spot where children were wont to gambol inappropriately. This has tactfully (and tactilely) obviated that nonsense--I LOVE spiny, prickly, thorny, horny, nasty, spiteful, carnivorous, stinging, angry plants! Can you tell I'm quickly approaching four decades of working at a public garden?



Daphne tangutica

There are subtle differences between the rather larger leaved Daphne retusa that I've grown over the years and this slightly more delicate tangutica--this latter being even hardier and more vigorous. I first planted this twenty feet or so away in a spot where it became massive, produced tons of seeds and eventually one year expired. We're down to just this plant--and I must remind Mike Bone and Katy Wilcox to take cuttings soon! It is one of our best daphnes! One is WAY too few to have of this...


Crocus goulimyi

Dozens of Crocus goulimyi have waited awfully late this year to bloom...hard to believe our robust colony started with just a single bulb a few decades ago. Malthus was right!



Echinacea in a mist of Muhlenberia reverchonii

Surely the picture speaks for itself. If this grass doesn't become an instant hit, nothing will...I'm sure I've taken a hundred pictures of it the last two or three years!



Plantasia walkway

I can't say how many visitors have oohed and aaahed over the wonderful black pebble walk in Plantasia since it was built twelve or more years ago. I'm amazed that it has held up so well. I believe it was the original designer, Mark Fusco, who planted the sweep of Black Mondo grass alongside it. The path is never more wonderful than when it's sprinkled with golden Locust leaflets in the fall.


Ophiopogon planiscapus v. nigrescens

The picture is deceiving: the "grass" (formerly considered in the "Lily" family sensu lato--now lumped with the Asparagus family!)...why on earth they call these "Snake beard" in Latin (or Greek actually) eludes me. This picture does not show the dozens of stems with shiny jet black seeds. I love this plant!


Rohdea japonica

I was horrified a few years ago when the gardener in charge of this garden divided a few clumps of Rohdea as if they were daylilies and replanted them--to widen the swath no doubt. I cursed under my breath, thinking this slow growing, slightly fussy, slightly tender plant would perish. Good thing I didn't say anything--they took off just fine, and this year the ample new colony is studded with fruit. Some day I may have the courage to do this with one of my clumps perhaps? I doubt it.



Rohdea japonica seedead

Funny that a woodland plant from nearly subtropical East Asia could look so Christmas like!



Ornamental Grass Garden

I featured a similar picture taken a few weeks earlier on my Facebook page--and stupidly mis-identified the garden. Wouldn't you know, the gardener (Ross Shrigley) called me on it. So this time I shall get it right lest he keep tabs on my blog as well...What a wonderful symphony of grass foliage...



Viburnum lantana

The gardener who cares for this area (John Murgel) doesn't think this was planted deliberately--it may just be a seedling of Viburnum lantana--or perhaps the nearby carlesii type which I notice has bright foliage too. I shall check this out in April to double check. If it is a carlesii--we shall have to take cuttings! The sweetly fragrant viburnums are terribly underplanted and underappreciated hereabouts.

Thuja occidentalis'Yellow Ribbon'

The overwhelming majority of arborvitae planted around Denver are 'Smaragd'--which is apparently NOT a very good plant hereabouts: it suffered massive dieback around town and a local gardening celebrity (Rob Proctor) has been very harsh on the whole genus--dissuading his audience from planting them. Ironically, every other cultivar I've seen around town came through our wretched April freeze just fine: the 'Yellow Ribbon' cultivars in our Fragrance Garden have never looked more resplendent. I must scold Rob for his summary (and unfair) condemnation!



Fragrance Garden container

You can glimpse the thujas lining the allee in this garden. In the foreground, one of the many wonderful winter arrangements made by the Garden Club of Denver throughout this garden. This is a redoubtable organization of which I am an adjunct and rather uncharacteristic member (there are only two of us who are male "honorary" among many dozens of very dedicated women: this club is an engine of turbo strength that has animated Denver Botanic Gardens since our inception--our benefactress, Ruth Porter Waring , was a member after all.). I have gained increasing respect bordering on awe for G.C.A. over the decades--they work behind the scenes at virtually every major public garden and museum in America to raise funds and standards.


Schlessman Plaza container

Another truly astonishing G.C.A. arrangement. There is a strong possibility that this spot will look radically different in a year: instead of this recessed alcove, there is likely to be a walk way that extends from the building in the picture below to the marvelous Waring House, whose chimney can be barely glimpsed in the herbage above: the funds to create a rose garden beyond were achieved this past week: I love the symbolism of transforming a parking lot into a garden....although I shall rather miss this alcove...



O'Fallon Perennial Border

The grand double border is lovely in the late autumn light--the groundcovers and remaining shrubs decked with thousands of Christmas lights--it looks very different at night I can assure you!



Cistus laurifolius

We have had the laurel leaf Sun rose planted many places over the years--this may be the only spot left at present--look carefully and you can discern the Christmas lights...I deliberately refuse to use the silly euphemism "Holiday lights": political correctness is a social disease that is devouring our language and a bit of our soul...

But frustrating as politics and human folly may be--we should take a hiatus from cynicism in the "Holiday" Season--although we plant geeks need only to stroll among the chlorophyll for a few minutes and our batteries are charged, our blood pressure drops and we are real humans once again.

And now for the promised poem: one of my favorites by that amazing maid of Amherst:

There's a certain slant of light
By Emily Dickinson

There's a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.

Heavenly hurt it gives us;
We can find no scar,
But internal difference
Where the meanings are.

None may teach it anything,
'Tis the seal, despair,-
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the air.

When it comes, the landscape listens,
Shadows hold their breath;
When it goes, 't is like the distance
On the look of death.

The DANGEROUS Christmas Cactus!

December 3, 2013, 6:51 pm

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Echinocereus coccineus at Denver Botanic Gardens dryland mesa

There is a wonderful blog I follow called "Danger Garden": she ain't got nuthin' on ME when it comes to danger: for me these enormous hedgehog or claret cup cacti exercise an almost fatal attraction! Alas, the term "Christmas Cactus" has been purloined by the very tame Zygocactus (which admittedly do bloom at the right time for the name)--but there is something about our ubiquitous, widespread and wonderful giant cushion hedgehog cacti of the West--especially the taxon that has been called Echinocereus mojavensis or E. coccineus--that has always struck me as Christmassy in a sort of hulking, menacing way! Even though it blooms in the Northern Hemisphere from late April to June depending on altitude. (Come to think of it...they should be blooming about now in the SOUTHERN hemisphere--they ARE Christmas cacti down there! HA!

You can find these awesome cushions from the Intermountain region--throughout Canyonlands for instance--across much of the higher Chihuahuan desert and steppe highlands to the southern foothills of the Rocky Mountains in southern Colorado. Stumbling (figuratively of course) on one of these in full bloom is always a magical moment--like watching a volcano of molten crimson magma near at hand (and almost as dangerous!)...Their numbers have diminished--and collection is undoubtedly a problem: don't do it--buy little ones: they will grow much faster in gardens than in the wild--and it's fun to watch them do it!

Echinocereus coccineus blooming late May this year on a corner in Littleton, Colorado

 I have driven by this monster a hundred--nay! a thousand times over the decades--always admiring the terrible symmetry of its glistening spines and orotund form. This spring I finally drove by when it was in full bloom. It is obviously very happy where it's situated...The color is a tad more orange than others of its delightful ilk...

Echinocereus coccineus on the dry flats near Moab

 I particularly admire the wonderful white spines on this specimen I found seven years ago in late April near Moab. The red badminton birdie flowers are none too shabby either. Words really are feeble vessels to describe or try to anyway these encrusted carapaces of cacophonous red. Did I mention that I love these?

Methusalah of the Canyonlands near Moab

I have probably photographed twenty or more people sitting alongside this specimen. In fact, I've taken two tours to Utah in spring--and this is always a highlight of the trip: there are those that say they don't love cacti. They're so full of it! How can you not admire, marvel and just plain gasp at the utter majesty of this display? Have I mentioned that I love these things?

Enormous Echinocereus coccineus a the Grand Junction cactus garden (at the old Fairgrounds on Orchard Mesa)

There is a long and amusing story about how this enormous claret cup was moved to this Xeriscape garden. This is not the time to share it--but I would like to acknowledge how majestic these are even OUT of bloom! Not many plants evince an air so venerable and imposing...



A reprise of the clumps at DBG's Dryland Mesa

Somewhere I have told the story of how the two large coccineus at the Dryland Mesa were moved here in the 1990's (easily 20 years ago) from the site of the old cactus garden at Red Rocks that was replaced by the expanded gift shop there...we were invited to rescue these: the plants had grown at that garden for decades when they were moved, and I am sure they'd been put in there already as fairly large clumps. I don't think there is a way of knowing for sure, but I suspect these clumps are well over 50 years old. Who knows how old the other ones in this series may actually be?

Tonight a cold front is blowing into Denver--the temperatures approached 70F yesterday, and tomorrow night may go well below zero--a rather shocking differential...can you blame me for dreaming about these festive flowers from the flip side of the seasons?

Why do I love to live in the West? Look above and you'll see a half dozen excellent reasons!

Come romp in the city of nymphs!

December 6, 2013, 1:05 pm

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The famous botanic garden of Munich, which is part of the vast palace grounds of Nymphenburg ("the city of nymphs" so called) has a spectacular and immense rock garden, and more perennial borders, sophisticated woodland plantings, greenhouses galore and on and on ad nauseum: perhaps I shall share pix of these with you some day. If you clamor a bit I may do it sooner than later...it's been miserably cold in Denver for the past three or four days with no respite in sight (lows well below 0 Farenheit...and the days not much warmer. As I looked through my pictures, despite my license as "plant nerd" and "plant snob" I have to admit that the gorgeous displays of bulbs and annuals were especially heart warming in the early depths of Colorado winter. Hearing that winter is spreading across most of America, I thought others might enjoy the warmth and color of a perfect day in early May this year--in one of the most magical gardens on Planet Earth...come romp with me and the nymphs!

 

 

 

Calculated craziness...

December 9, 2013, 8:20 pm

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Yucca faxoniana (left) Yucca thompsoniana (right)

I have recounted elsewhere (on several occasions) the tale of the giant yuccas that are found here and there throughout Denver Botanic Gardens...and of these the one on the left (Yucca faxoniana) always elicits the most amazement due to its enormous size and subtropical feel. We are on the verge of fulfilling an entire week where the temperature has been well above freezing in the daytime, dropping well below zero Farenheit at night: deep freeze, in other words. The cold snap that's got Denver in its grip has stretched from coast to coast, bringing extreme temperatures much earlier than usual. Of course, there are casualties every year--but years like this makes one wonder--why would sane people try growing treeform yuccas that only grow natively hundreds of miles away to the south--at much lower altitudes to boot? The answer is that this was a calculated craziness--Mountain States Nursery in Arizona gave us these plants to test--and they had observed enough of their plants in enough places that they knew it would work...



Same spot two months later

Last spring we had an unseasonably cold snap to 7F above zero in early April that devastated plants throughout Denver--I was worried about the giant yuccas, but realized later that they are warm season plants--it takes a lot to rouse their meristem into active growth in spring or fall for that matter--these are less likely to suffer from unseasonable cold snaps in the cooler seasons...




Ebracteola wilmaniae

I had grown a little cocky about growing this wonderful ice plant I'd gotten from David Salman. Of course, looking at the map below at where it comes from, I should have been a tad more circumspect: most of the hardy ice plants we grow come from the high Drakensberg--far to the east and south of where this grows in nature. And this was one of many South Africans that succumbed to the nasty cold snap last April..fortunately, nurserymen had backup stock in greenhouses...so I have it in the garden again. Will it survive our current arctic blast?  Stay tuned.....

 

Echinocactus texensis

Looking at the range of Horse Crippler, you would expect it to be much tougher than the giant Faxon's Yucca I started up with: after all--it grows at much higher altitudes, over a hundred miles to the north. Moreover, it is a low plant that would theoretically be somewhat protected at ground level, as supposed to a monster Yucca that's exposed to the elements--and yet this cactus is by no means ironclad. I have known specimens to persist a decade or more, but eventually a strange winter comes along--I suspect if we were to grow enough from seed and select, reliably hardy strains might emerge--but meanwhile we should enjoy those we can persuade to stay with us for a while...don't ask me about the year I killed a dozen gathered from my ex-wife's land in Texas, or how the tenant who rented the land pulled the rest out lest they "cripple their horses"...

 

 



Echinocereus knippelianus

This unlikely candidate for Colorado gardens actually performed far better for us for far longer than any Echinocactus...Coming as it does from hundreds of miles further south in Nuevo Leon than even Yucca faxoniana, I would have never thought it would do. I'm glad I got lots of pictures of it when it was at its peak a few years ago--this was another casualty of our April misery this year...But we must try it again!

Amorphophallus konjac

With so many plants dying in our April freeze, I was sad that I had planted my Amorphophallus the fall before--why did I pick this year to try and overwinter this? I dug a very deep hole, put in lots of rich compost and sited it in what I thought was the perfect spot. June arrived, and day after day, week after week passed by with no sign of this. Obviously dead. I returned from Scotland at the END of June, and only then did I see the huge spathe emerge...hurray! But will it come back a second year--and eventually bloom? What hubris, to plant this fey (if massive) bulb that comes from Southeast Asia, basically, on the windy cold plains of Colorado? But isn't that what we gardeners do? Everything we're not supposed to that is?

Magnolia grandiflora

The last and final case of craziness is the struggle to grow southern Magnolias, here the last place we should be growing them. Elsewhere I describe the largest specimen (I know of anyway) in the Denver Metro area--and this picture shows one of several specimens planted at Denver Botanic Gardens--which bloomed wonderfully this year as you can see despite our despicable cold...

So is there a calculation to our risks, or is it just horticultural craziness that we plant these things and expect them to grow--you can be the judge!


MORE Danger! Spikethrift alert!

December 14, 2013, 5:27 pm

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Acantholimon venustum







You may not be overly impressed with this on first glance--acantholimons (like cacti) you get "stuck" on over time. They start off innocently enough, like little tufts of dianthus...and grow and grow. Many people think they're just prickly dianthus until you point out the papery texture of the flower, and they see the resemblance to other thrifts. I have called them spikethrifts as a common name--which doesn't seem to have caught on. Or how about "prickly thrift". Of course, most people aren't aware that thrift is a common name for Armeria, ("sea thrift" which grows wild at 13,000' in Colorado!)--and these are very much like very prickly armeria. You may or may not have noticed that I adopted the generic name of spikethrifts as my avatar. That's how much I like them!

 

Acantholimon araxanum

I grew them exuberantly and well once at the Rock Alpine Garden (where Mike Kintgen has assembled a wonderful collection--and they continue to impress). The one above slipped through our net, however. I don't think we grow it any more, although it is very close to Acantholimon caryophyllaceum and also A. armenum, both of which are still around. This color and form I'd say is pretty much par for the course in the genus. Pink was the color of choice ten or twenty years ago--nowadays it's rather passé--which means I can revel in it (I find fashion annoying).



Acantholimon glumaceum

This is the workhorse of the genus: I saw huge mats of this in various gardens throughout Scandinavia and Central Europe last spring--it tolerates lots of water. But we can grow it unwatered in Colorado. I have not one but TWO vast mats of this in my rock garden which refuse to bloom. How annoying is that?



Acantholimon litwinowii

This may not impress you much, but it is much more loveable in person (or should I say "in leaf") I obtained seed of this through Index Seminum from a botanic garden in the former Soviet Union and have grown it ever since. Like glumaceum, this tolerates more water (those are alpine gentians and drabas it's growing with). This plant gets bigger and bigger with time, and the silvery lavender flowers are very fetching. It can also take it dry. 



Acantholimonlycopodioides

I remember as we crossed over Babusar Pass (over 4000 m.) in our jeeps a week or so after the fateful 9-11 (Babusar Pass is in the Pakistan Himalayas) I peered down a steep slope that plummeted thousands of feet, and it was humped with innumerable dark mounds that were undoubtedly this--some of them a meter across. It was snowing hard, and the driver refused to stop. I later got a closeup of it on an outcrop, the base of which was apparently the latrine of choice for the sizeable village nearby (need I say more?). I did not linger. This is not the closeup--this was in my garden. The closeup is still a transparency I must have scanned...


Acantholimonhohenakeri (back) Acantholimon gloumaceum (front)

This is my old front yard on Eudora, where these persist and have persisted for decades (and shall probably persist for some time to come) since they thrive in Colorado with no care. I miss them terribly (my new garden doesn't grow them nearly as well).

Acantholimon trojanum

Here is one I CAN grow, that must presumably come from Western Turkey, near the ancient Illium. It must be very close to Acantholimon ulicinum. Which is a synonym of Acantholimon androsaceum, which grows on the crags around the village where my paternal grandfather was born (the ancestral homeland of those bearing my surname, as a matter of fact in the Sfakia). I have sadly never been there, although I hope to go there in fifteen months--when this should, in fact, be blooming. If you are a real rock gardener, click on this link and you will be wafted to the heights of Crete and see what I mean..and why I love these so.

Acantholimon bracteatum var. capitatum

Here is the wonderful capitate headed species that comes from northeastern Turkey--gracing my garden now. 

Acantholimon spp. at Dare Bohlander's house

A friend of mine in Littleton grows acantholimons the way I wish I could: it is a stunning display when they are in bloom, believe me.



Acantholimon ulicinum at University of Wurzburg Botanic Garden

 

I am just a tad annoyed that the most magnificent display of acantholimons in cultivation today is at a botanic garden in the heart of Germany. Frankly, it's just plain WRONG that they grow these so wonderfully well (not to mention acres and acres of other treasures--one more rare and wonderful than the rest.) Some day I shall have to do a series of blogs on my magical visit to Wurzburg last May: their alpine collections--like those at Gothenburg, Kew, Edinburgh (and a handful of Central European botanic gardens I shan't list now) are really to die for.

 

Perhaps Larry Vickerman--who with the help of Lauren and Scott Ogden as designers, and with the magical touch of Emilee Vanderneut as gardener have created the most stunning Prairie gardens around the Chatfield Visitor's center...perhaps Larry, with a lot of help from Dan Johnson and the amazing team at York Street (and a few more gardeners to help Emilee as long as I'm dreaming), can design an awesome Steppe Garden to outshine Wurzburg at our gorgeous and wonderful site at Chatfield...these are the sort of daydreams that keep me chugging away....  

 

Signed wistfully..."Acantholimon"

Gracias a la vida!

December 19, 2013, 8:55 am

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Gracias a la vida (Thanksgiving to Life)

(Violeta Parra)

 

I began to put this post together before Thanksgiving--but finding the images from my crazy library, translating the poem, and hammering it into something that meant something to me at least--well, it was delayed. Year's end is a good time to be grateful still. I suppose we should be grateful year 'round! It is worth listening to the Youtube of Violeta singing this wonderful song--you can almost hear the Andes echoing it behind her lilting Inca tones. I am grateful for many things in my life--my lover and my family first and foremost, my work and friends and the great country I live in...but I am particularly grateful to live on this astonishing planet, and to so many of its most lovely corners I have been lucky enough to visit...

John Watson and Puya caerulea, Chile

Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto.                  I give thanks to life that has given me so much.

Me dio dos luceros que, cuando los abro,               It's given me two eyes, then when I open them
perfecto distingo lo negro del blanco,                     I distinguish perfectly the black from the white,
y en el alto cielo su fondo estrellado,                      and in the sky above its starry depths
y en las multitudes el hombre que yo amo.             and among the multitudes, the one I love.

Araucaria araucana on the road to Volcan Llaima

Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto.                   I give thanks to life that has given me so much.
Me ha dado el oído que, en todo su ancho,              It's given me my hearing, that in its breadth,
graba noche y día grillos y canarios,                        hears both day and night the crickets, canaries
martillos, turbinas, ladridos, chubascos,                  hammers, engines, barking, the sound of rain
y la voz tan tierna de mi bien amado.                      and the tender voice of my beloved.



T'ai Shan--one of the five sacred mountains of China in Shandong peninsula

 Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto.            My thanks to life that has given me so much.
 Me ha dado el sonido y el abecedario,              It's given me sound and the alphabet
con él las palabras que pienso y declaro:           and the words with which I think and declare
madre, amigo, hermano, y luz alumbrando        mother, friend, brother and the light
la ruta del alma del que estoy amando.              illuminating the path to the soul I love.



Jade Dragon Mts., Yunnan, China

  Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto.             Thanks to life that has given me so much.
Me ha dado la marcha de mis pies cansados;       It has given methe progress ofmy tired feet;
con ellos anduve ciudades y charcos,                   with them I walkedcities and puddles,
playas y desiertos, montañas y llanos,                  beaches and deserts, mountains and plains
y la casa tuya, tu calle y tu patio.                          And your house, your street and yourpatio.



Jade Dragon Mts., Yunnan, China

Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto.               Thanks to lifewhich hasgiven me so much.
Me dio el corazón que agita su marco                  It gave my heartflutteringyour presence           
cuando miro el fruto del cerebro humano,           when I look at the fruit of thehuman brain,
cuando miro el bueno tan lejos del malo,             when I look at good, so distant from the bad
cuando miro el fondo de tus ojos claros.              when I gaze at the depths of your clear eyes.



Rhododendrons in Yunnan (and pretty guide)

 Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto.               Thanks to life which hasgiven me so much.
Me ha dado la risa y me ha dado el llanto.,           It has given melaughter anditgaveme tears.
Así yo distingo dicha de quebranto,                      soI distinguishbetween joy and pain
los dos materiales que forman mi canto                the two entitiesthat formmy song
y el canto de ustedes que es el mismo canto,        andsong of all of you, which isthe same song,
y el canto de todos, que es mi propio canto.         and everyone's song, which is my own song.

Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto.                Thanks to life which hasgiven me so much.




Rhododendrons among Pinus yunnanensis in Yunnan

I shall never forget reveling among rhodies and primulas and a thousand other gems one late May in the high mountains of Yunnan...

I am deeply grateful for the beauty of the mountains I enjoy gazing upon every day from my house: here a vignette from Mt. Evans taken many years ago...



Mt. Lincoln (Colorado) tundra in late June

Here is a glimpse of the Mosquito mountains decked in their midsummer finery...one of my favorite places on earth I visit every summer...

Or here, the Mount of the Holy Cross glimpsed from the top of Vail pass at the height of summer...

I am grateful for he bristlecones on Mt.Evans...my favorite grove near the visitor's center at Mt. Goliath, Denver Botanic Gardens high altitude campus.

And the yak crawling on its forelegs as it nibbles the grass in Pakistan: did you know they did that? The Himalaya in the background in October.

I am grateful for Nanga Parbat, 9th highest peak on Earth, and the morning we watched the dawn crawl down the precipitous slope--it took hours.

Fynbos at Constantianek

I am profoundly grateful for South Africa, where I have been privileged to explore on six magical trips--and hopefully a seventh in a year and a month...

I am profoundly grateful for the Mediterranean region--here, a Castle in Spain (incidentally, the rain does not fall primarily in the plain at all, but on the mountains there). And I have not shared a single picture of Greece (my ancestral home), or Turkey (even more ancestral perhaps), nor Central Asia, nor of California where I am typing this minute, nor of Northern and Central Europe where I've passed such lovely times this past spring, and in the past, nor the Great Basin, Great Plains nor a thousand other magical spots (Alaska, Florida, the magical Midwest and East of the US and Canada--and Mexico for heaven's sake--the richest country on earth acre per acre with biodiversity--the greatest richness of all)...what a wonderful planet we live on! And I am grateful for you, my fellow bloggers and blog readers!

Solstice solace: Blue Zebra primrose

December 21, 2013, 8:37 am

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Primula vulgaris'Blue Zebra'

Nothing is more eloquent of spring and promise to my mind than a primrose--and this amazing cultivar I discovered last spring seems to provide the perfect tonic on the Winter Solstice--and the promise that however elegant and spare, minimalist and marvelous our wintry scene may be--spring is not far away!

 

Here they are in mass, in a marvelous greenhouse (more on that) in Pennsylvania

 I suspect some of these might have eventually been rogued, but I love the not so subtle variation among these...what a wonderful cultivar! You can find out about a tad more about it (and how to get it) on the Hort Couture website: this is one of their specialties. This was a 2011 Fleuroselect winner, however in North America it is a Hort Couture exclusive--which is classed as annual...



More variation...

I'm not entirely convinced it's an annual: I'm kicking myself now that I didn't get some of these this past year to test. Not that every plant has to be a perennial to be enjoyed, but Primula vulgaris is one of the toughest and most reliable primroses in my experience--and if there is this much phenotypic variability in the lovely zebra striping, surely there must be some underlying variability in the hardiness as well! 


And more subtle variation

 I find the little differences be between one plant and another to be fascinating: I will surely have to have a number of these to play with in the garden this coming year!

 

And yet another one...



Lloyd Traven

Just as colorful as the primrose that he grows, meeting this remarkable plantsman and his wife was one of the highlights of a very eventful and colorful year...The Travens own Peace Tree Farm, one of the most impeccable and diverse greenhouse operations I've ever had the privilege to visit. I did not see a plant there that wasn't desirable--and every one seemed to be grown perfectly. Lloyd's omnipresent smile (somewhat obscured by that abundant beard and moustache) is a great way to light up the Solstice any year!

---

Stone pathways in European botanic gardens...

December 25, 2013, 11:28 am

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Granite pathway at Copenhagen botanic gardens' rock garden



Harland Hand, one of America's visionary garden designers, would lecture that gardens really consisted only of  "path, lookout and shelter"-- capturing, as it were, the three essential needs that we as humans sought in landscape for the millions of years of our evolution. So pathways are perhaps more important than most of us (who are obsessed plant lovers) might at first blush concede. 



Hamburg botanic garden pathway

Many things impressed me during the trip that Jan and I took to Scandinavia and Germany last spring, but one thing that induced great envy was the variety and beauty of the stone used in pathways at the many great botanic gardens we visited. The use of small, cubic chunks of granite laid in a somewhat rustic fashion charmed me particularly. These were everywhere!




Stone plaza at Hamburg botanic garden

This wonderful stone mosaic design at Hamburg was especially well designed. I love the three different (natural) colors of granite used here...


Another view of Hamburg botanic gardens

Here is another variation with larger, more rectangular blocks making a more informal look in the wonderful woodland garden at Hamburg.

Wurzburg botanic gardens main pathway

Wurzburg rates near the top of my list of favorite gardens anywhere, any time...I was entranced with everything there. The expanse between this ample walkway and the distant greenhouses comprised a corner of the huge North American garden filled with native treasures from the USA--most of which I'd never seen in any American garden. This place is awesome.



 Closeup of granite pavement at Wurzburg

 It's hard to believe that anything so common in Europe is pretty much unprecentented in the USA: the smallness of the cobbles is likely why they are less prone to tripping people. Surely someone must sell something comparable Stateside? Flagstones in the herb garden at Wurzburg   They don't just use cobblestone sized rocks of course...     Handicap ramp at Wurzburg botanic garden

Handicap access is an issue in Europe as well--a simple and functional expedient to retrofit an older garden is demonstrated here...but do notice the wonderful lichened stone around the ramp as well--that speaks volumes as to the age and dedication represented by these great gardens that have so much to teach us American whippersnappers!

Hardy Cactus Heaven....In Bavaria?

December 27, 2013, 8:52 am

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 SPOILER alert: here at one of the most amazing cactus nurseries I've ever visited, I will be showing you many things....the cacti however were be mostly in absentia (a few peek in here and there): there was so much ELSE at this nursery, I've decided to show that first! The cacti shall follow....anon....hang in there!




Hans Graf--owner of this amazing nursery





False alarm: there's a cactus right there!...but please turn your attention to Hans Graf, owner and peddler in chief (and an amazing gentleman altogether). He started and runs Kakteen-Garten, one of several large nurseries in Germany that specialize in hardy cacti. By the way..the above ^ is a hyperlink--click on it and you can get a taste of the amazing offerings (and if you live in Europe you can place an order, you lucky dog!)...


Proprietor's vehicle (and my reflection too btw)

This is actually one of several vehicles that Hans and his family drive all over Germany to sell at all manner of outdoor markets, fairs, plant sales--you name it. As I mentioned, he sells mail order, but also has a good traffic at his actual garden center site where many of these pictures were taken (he has greenhouses there, but many more at other sites near Oettingen, where he is headquartered.)...It's good to be the king of hardy cactus in Germany!


Delosperma seanhoganii





I believe that's the name it was recently christened--and an appropriate name too. What a wonderful delo! Alas, not the easiest to grow in the garden...     Delosperma sean-hoganii Altrhough Hans obviously has no trouble growing it in pots as you can see!  Delosperma'Gold Nugget' There is something terribly gratifying about seeing a plant you've helped popularize growing in these kinds of numbers. And this is one of the very best!

Delosperma 'White Nugget'

In the USA, Hans would get a cease and desist: this is a patented plant here in America! But the rules don't extend across the pond...Little known fact: I wrote up the legal papers for 'White Nugget' (so does that make me its Godfather?)...







Delosperma 'Garnet'



Don't bother squinting: there's a different name on the label: these lovely morsels--bred by a Japanese breeder who lives in Peru for a Dutch company targeting American gardeners--are delightful, if a tad miffy. This is my favorite (which bloomed in my garden all summer--it likes me).

 



Delosperma 'Jewel of the Desert'



'Perfect Orange' now also goes by a different name as well. I don't think it's quite that perfect an orange, however. A rather nice tint nevertheless!

 



Arenaria alfacarensis by any other name

Spain boasts an amazing number of cushion sandworts: this one is apparently synonymous with our better known name. I rather like Arenaria lithops! And to think fourteen years ago I was only a mile or two from where this grew--and had to turn back (traveling with lightweights)..

 





Veronica repens

Not sure I buy this name: would love to have bought a plant or two however! Hans grows a lot of wonderful alpines, and has some extensive areas where he grows them in the ground as well--and mind you cactus is his real business!



 



Penstemon uintahensis



One of the rarest and choicest penstemons, which I've only seen once in the wild on Leidy Peak when I nearly froze myself and whole family. Another story, another time... it was a thrill to see this (he had quite a few of them in pots, actually)...

 



Ponciris trifoliata



He had a much larger specimen growing at his wonderful home--and we saw some monsters at Frankfurt Botanic Garden--a wonderful plant this. I believe it's the cultivar 'Flying Dragon'...

 

Lots of succulents!



Succulents are so cool! Glad they've become so fashionable...



Orostachys spinosa





His "run of the mill"O. spinosa doesn't quite match up with what we grow here, I don't think. I must get some of those to compare.



Orostachyhs spinosa (red tinged!)

Hans did give me a big clump of this red-flushed Orostachys--which is to DIE for...and it arrived in the US as pink mush. I can't wait to get this one again--what a gorgeous plant! I feel sorry for those who don't experience plant lust. BTW, please ignore the cactus in the lower right...not time yet.







Sempervivums galore: At least once a hear some idiotic person says to me "I don't like hens and chicks" (gag me)





A few cute Tschotchkies to the good...

There is a law somewhere saying that all gardens featuring succulents must have at least one corny tschotschky--and Kakteen is no exception here (nor is my garden for that matter...) 

 

Acantholimons warm the cockles of me heart: any garden containing even one is automatically upgraded!





More cushions!



I believe this is the wonderful fescue (Festuca scoparia) from the alps (Pic Carlit?). I love it!

 



Planted areas in the Garden Center portion





Glimpse across part of the Garden Center



Little demonstrations areas and planted beds dot the nursery--some serving for stock plants as well as display--and little stands to show off the smaller things. You could spend hours here...(In fact. We did)...



Yes, there is even 'Angelina'

Is there a succulent enthusiast anywhere in the temperate world who doesn't have 'Angelina' yet?



Sales beds in garden center portion

More displays and plants to buy (or else drool over in my case)...



More demo/stock beds




These would sell like hotcakes at Denver Botanic Gardens mother's day sale!




Don't examine these too carefully--since they do contain (cacti) which we are excluding from this discussion...

All these pix represent a visit last May to Oettingen and the wonderful hospitality we experienced there. Our trip to Germany will be one of the horticultural highlights of not just this year, but my life. I yearn to get back and see more of those gardens! More nurseries: half the size of Texas, Germany boasts over 100 major botanic gardens, each with unique designs and each having many spectacular and superior collections of plants. Quite simply, it's Heaven for a plant nerd like me!

Pinky and the brain! "Springtime...for cactus...in Germany..."

December 29, 2013, 7:27 am

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Hans Graf surveying his realm!

I was going to write new lyrics to the wonderful theme song of the musical within a musical in the Producers (everybody's favorite Mel Brooks, no?) but it was just too tacky...but I have something even more tacky to provide the overarching theme here, and that's Pinky and the Brain! I have realized in retrospect that one of the great cartoons of my childhood has resurfaced, so to speak, in Germany...wait and see!

Old poster on the wall for Kasteengarten

This faded poster on the wall in the headhouse spoke a bit to the history of this venture...it has not come about overnight....I give you the link once again here, if you didn't get it on my last post...I warn you, if you are an American you will be very jealous (many of his plants are not available state side as yet...)

Opuntia erinacea form--possibly trichophora

Husky young gallons

I'll buy it! (an aurea form)

More gems just starting to grow!

Lots of Echinocereus and other ball cacti as well...

Two Pediocactus simpsonii--bet they're from the Front Range, warmed the cockles of me heart...

Container plantings everywhere

Token representation of tender cacti as well...this is a hardy cactus nursery after all!



Finally! PINKY! Little clarification: when I wrote this blog I'd forgotten that there were TWO cylindropuntias: the true 'Pinky' is the smaller one on the left. Hans has also introduced a much larger one (on the right) which is Cylindropuntia  imbricata'Marco' The text below has them confused--but once you look at them you can see the difference: just keep it in mind when you read my florid descriptions. Thanks to Gerhard Gussmagg in Austria for catching my mistake!

I don't know the history of this incredible form of Cylindropuntia imbricata--but it is one of the really outstanding plants featured by Kakteengarten! And boy, do they grow a lot of them. It appears to be somewhat dwarfer than typical imbricata. We have specimens growing in Denver, and some day I shall report on how it does here--can't imagine it won't thrive: it's awesome! The name is doubly apropos, since it will no doubt conquer the world. (check out the cartoon if you don't know what I'm talking about). We'll get to "the brain" in a minute. (I re-linked the cartoon, since I'm quite sure you didn't check it out the first time!)

MORE Pinky

And even MORE pinky...This really IS 'Pinky'

And even MORE 'Pinky'

This may not actualloy be 'Pinky' but a larger cousin...no name yet I don't think..[I see I did recall there were two: this is definitely the bigger, salmon colored one: 'Marco': you really need both!]

Grusonia clavata'Wicky' (crested)

So as not to waste time, here it is! THE BRAIN! What a terrific cultivar name this would make: Grusonia clavata'Brainiac' say, Alas! If you read the comment by Die Wüstengärtner below you will realize it has a perfectly good cultivar name: 'Wicky' is what this should be called--and shall henceforward in my books  Wouldn't you know, there is a colossal irony here: Wickie is also a cartoon character! You may know it as Opuntia clavata, but Rob Wallace will convince you too that it should be segregated, so just give up. Again, I did not get the story of when or how and who discovered this: I was too stunned gazing at hundreds upon hundreds of what has to be one of the most extraordinary hardy cactus ever--one that grows a day's drive from my home, and which (as far as I know) is unknown in America. Leastwise till Hans sent us a bunch a year ago.

More Brains! (or 'Wicky' to be correct!)

and MORE cacti!

A wonderful chocolate flavored prickly pear..not sure which one, alas.

Gerhard Gussmagg from Austria sent me a very gentle email with several corrections to this blog: he says that this goes by Opuntia rhodantha ssp. pisciformis in the trade in Europe, which he does not believe is a valid name: but now you know what to look for. I believe it is similar to what we grow as Opuntia'Dark Knight'--but without growing them together I'm not sure I'd buy that! Whatever it is--we NEED it!

Cati outdoors as well

I have to say, it was an eye opener for me to see so many superbly grown cacti: had I not actually gone to Oettingen and seen with my own eyes, I would not have thought it possible that this quantity of cacti were being grown commercially--and grown with such outstanding culture. Hans puts American cactus nurseries to shame.

More views of the nursery

So well grown!

An opuntia selected at Hamburg Botanic gardens (I believe)

 It is mildly galling to me that the Germans have been doing so much work for so long that is so little known or appreciated in America where these grow wild. So many Americans regard prickly pears with scorn--and yet throughout Hans' nursery I found cultivars named after this or that botanic garden 'Freiburg', 'Munich' and here--'Hamburg': but can we find these in America? As John Belushi would say..."NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Shame on us!

And more.

Stooping lovingly to check it out...

I think you're getting the point!

Oh yes, he grows yuccas too--this one is Yucca gloriosa'Walbristar'...which is really quite tender and used in containers in colder regions. (Thanks, Gerhard, for the correction!)

I believe this was a Maihueniopsis ovata type...he had a few South Americans [Gerhard Gussmag believes this could be M. platyacantha (P&W 6473, ex CJH 380] One last loving look at one of the greenhouses: Thank you Hans!

 Looking at these pictures brings back three of the most wonderful days: I wish I could share them all with you: Hans took us to a wonderful local castle, and to a large estate where a huge fair was being staged (full of rare trees and wonderful gardens). He took time out of his extremely busy schedule--probably the busiest week in his year, to drive through the woods where I saw many classic European wildflowers for the first time (Anemone ranunculoides, Asarum europaeum and much much more)...I should perhaps share those with you--but then I've not really posted anything on most of the great gardens we visited that trip either (Frankfurt,Wurzburg, Hamburg, Munich)...oh well...at least I've given you a pretty good overview of one nursery (among hundreds of great German nurseries): I, for one, can't wait to go back! Meanwhile, I'll watch another of those "Pinky and the Brain" Youtubes..they are fun don't you think?



Life sucks

December 30, 2013, 3:09 am

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A memoir of changes in the land and people

I will get to the bad part eventually. I sometimes think my life could be described as a series of love affairs with various kinds of plants and gardens, and definitely I am a serial killer of books: I find a writer I like (not an easy thing any more) and I quietly munch through their oeuvre. I did this in the past few years with Patrick Leigh Fermor and Bruce Chatwin. Some authors are so voluminous that I space them out over decades: John Updike, Robert Graves, Philip Roth, Nadine Gordimer and many more--I read a book or two, and then move on. A few months ago my colleague Mike Kintgen found Grass by Joe Truett on remainder at the Tattered Cover and gave me a copy. By the time I finished the first few chapters I knew I'd found a contemporary classic: Only Robert Michael Pyle among contemporary naturalist/scientists wields  such a wonderful pen. I'll get to the Grass in a bit. Tonight I finally finished Circling Back: I don't think I have ever read anything that cut more quickly or deeply or decisively to the bone of our modern dilemma: Joe combines a history of his family's ancestral land in East Texas, and weaves into it his own very rich life story--and overarching the whole thing is our dilemma as Americans, as modern humans: he maps out a dozen ways the enormous cost of technology on the American landscape: a fabulously rich corner of America has essentially been turned into a botanical slum of wall-to-wall Loblolly pine plantation, and the rich tapestry of human habitation that goes back to the Pleistocene has been eliminated, leaving a mere residue of Duck Dynasty level ex-urbanites who by and large have only the most tenuous connections to the land. It is a terrifying and graphically described horror story: written with such charm and nostalgia that you almost forget that it's a tale that's been repeated in every corner of America. It is a tale we need to read, internalize and act on. It has the heft and import of Silent Spring or Ominivore's Dilemma in that it limns the ecological disaster we are all party to--although he does put out the slimmest glimmers of hope as well. Assuming you're not a complete literary light-weight (i.e. if you don't move your lips while you read)--and no one who reads my blog would do that--this book would be your cup of tea.

A serues if essays about grassland: great science and cadenced poetry all in one

I shan't belabor the grass book--it's very different--a whole series of essays that encapsulates Truett's lifelong work as an ecologist on the American prairies. Once again he shows the ways we have damaged and compromised biodiversity at every hand--but I hasten to say, this book gives hope: as lead biologist for Ted Turner's endangered species initiative, Truett had enormous sway and success in reintroducing prairie dogs to former habitat, and helping the success of black footed ferret reintroductions. He devotes several chapters to prairie dogs--and I have come to realize their enormous importance to America's prairies thanks to him...now I must get the rest of his books right away!

Reading two awesome books by a contemporary (just five or six years older than me), you can hardly blame me for wanting to talk to Joe, to contact him and let him know how much appreciated his work his prose. I was hatching a secret plan to see if we couldn't invite him to speak, perhaps at a lecture series. I was savoring the possibility that we might walk together around Denver Botanic Gardens, or on Mt. Goliath: For me, books are a kind of tangible friendship--alas! Most of my favorite authors are classics whom I shall not meet in this life. But Joe lives only down the road in New Mexico! Heck, maybe I could drop in on him this summer?

Google search makes everything so much faster than it used to be: I punched in his name and the town he lived in and Google provided a long list of valuable information about Joe: there are several publications by Joe you can download off of various websites (just click on that link to see them)...and there was (here's the sucky part) his obituary and a wonderful tribute to him by the Wildlife Society.

In Circling back, Joe describes the pathway that took him back to his roots, and the appreciation of traditional American agrarian life practiced by his parents and grandparents. It is sobering when people more or less contemporary with you pass away like this, all the more so since I felt I had not only found an author I admired intensely, but someone who could be a friend.

Let's get real! Some resolutions we can actually KEEP!

January 2, 2014, 7:55 pm

≫ Next: Hardy succulent containers: no brainers...

≪ Previous: Life sucks

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Garden Resolutions for 2014: resolutions we know we can keep!



Agave havardiana

Plant more agaves. a lot more! In face obtain and grow a lot more succulents of all kinds! (and grasses too come to think of it...)



Daphne cneorum'Eximia'

Plant more daphnes! It's a well known fact you cannot have enough in the way of daphnes: just as Apollo...

Agapanthus campanulatus

Plant some more agapanthus!

Salvia caespitosa

And plant a LOT more salvias of all kinds!

 



Golden Deodar Cedar at DBG

Plant a lot more conifers (and trees of all kinds!)...and dwarf conifers...





Stop and sniff the flowers!




Barnett Garden in Pueblo



Visit a lot more gardens (especially your friends!)



Ft. Collins Nursery Wholesale propagation greenhouse

Support local garden centers and greenhouse operations..........and mail order too!

Sedum ternatum

Don't disdain the common! Sedums have their place...





Cheryl Vestal at Paulino's Garden Center



Propagate lots of plants from cuttings and seeds (nurseries do it!)

 



Plant a garden with some kids!



Gardening is taught by example: be one to some kids (you never know what seed will be planted)

 



Crevice garden at DBG



Build, plant and marvel at a crevice garden: the hottest new kind of garden on earth!





David and Donna Hale and Bill Adams on West Spanish Peak

Escape into the hills as much as you can--with friends.

 

Go to exotic places and seek out rare plant nurseries (like Buck Hemenway's wonderful nursery in Riverside) and bring back lots of goodies! The list can go on and on--you get the drift... Happy New Year!!!