Fabulous Bloomers: Halesia carolina ‘Wedding Bells’ & Nemesia fruticans ‘Opal Innocence’

May15

Luther Burbank, the prominent American horticulturist, once said, “Flowers always make people better, happier…they are sunshine, food and medicine for the soul.” So true. Here are two fabulous flowering plants to savor in your own backyard:

Halesia carolina ‘Wedding Bells’ (Carolina Silverbell z.4-8)

Halesia carolina is an enchanting, native understory tree, requiring rich, well-drained, moist, acid soil. For over fifteen years, in my shady garden, it has been a reliable and profuse May bloomer with no pest or disease problems. The cultivar ‘Wedding Bells’ flaunts larger snowy-white bellflowers than the species and to my mind is a showier performer. In the Fall, the tree produces interesting 4-winged seed cases which carry on the show until frost. I also grow a pink-flowering Halesia but while the flowers are lovely, the tree lacks vigor.

Nemesia fruticans ‘Opal Innocence’ (z.9-10)

As soon as I saw this annual dazzler, I was a goner. Moreover, in addition to its incredible color and irresistible charm, Opal is fragrant and in constant bloom from Spring to Fall. Grow in sun or part shade in the ground or in containers. That is if you can find it— I think I bought them all. ( Mine came from Halsey Farm & Nursery in Watermill, N.Y.)

Addendum to Post,”Beauty and the Bees: Going, Going, Gone?”

If you invite your bees over for brunch, be sure (bee sure?) to serve coffee. According to a recent scientific study, reported in the British publication, The Garden ( May 2013), bees feeding on nectar containing caffeine—present in the coffee plant’s flowers—have dramatically improved memories: They are three times more likely to remember a flower’s scent, and thus remember a good nectar source. ( A great tip—for the bees. Would that coffee had a memory improving effect on me. I certainly drink enough of it.)

Early Spring: Snowy White Dazzle For Shade

Apr16

PIERIS x ‘Spring Snow’ (z. 5-8)

I love all things Pieris! With handsome evergreen foliage, vibrant, colorful new growth, and fragrant early Spring bell flowers that attract both fat bumble bees and stunning white-edged, dark-chocolate-brown Mourning Cloak butterflies, no wonder it’s one of my all time favorite garden plants. Oh, and did I fail to mention that it’s deer resistant? (Actually, over 25 years, I’ve planted a good number of Pieris and they have all been deer-proof.) Moreover, all my Pieris are grown in shade and have been disease free. (Be aware that Pieris grown in sun is vulnerable to lace-bug attack which can cause serious damage.)

Pieris x ‘Spring Snow’ is a cross between our native Pieris floribunda and Pieris japonica and inherited outstanding attributes from both parents: rich dark green foliage from japonica and masses of upright, luminous, snowy-white flowers from floribunda. But this hybrid-child also surpasses its parents with a profusion of bloom that cloaks the shrub with dazzling, dense, very fragrant white flowers in early Spring.

And Spring Snow is a slow, compact grower, never exceeding three feet in height, making it an ideal plant for a small or large garden. Moreover, it’s a can-do, easy-care plant. Good winter, bad winter—it doesn’t matter. P. x ‘Spring Snow’ will bloom reliably for you every year and its foliage will be bright, healthy green. Just provide well-drained acid soil and shade. And enjoy.

A few other Pieris favorites are: P. japonica ‘Mountain Fire’ which flaunts fire-engine-red new growth that turns bronze and then dark green; P. x ‘Brouwer’s Beauty’, another floribunda-japonica hybrid with light green new growth, an exquisite contrast with its mature dark green foliage; and P.’Flaming Silver’ which astonishes with scarlet-red new growth that turns pink, then yellow, and finally variegated green and white. All fabulous woody ornamental shrubs.

Finally, please indulge me. Magnolia x loebneri ‘Merrill’ demands a mention—and a photo shoot. So, if you want a beautiful, vigorous, hardy tree, that blooms with an abundance of pristine white flowers that perfume the air with sweet fragrance, at roughly the same time as P. ‘Spring Snow,’ you can’t do better than my “very pushy”, albeit beloved, Merrill. (See also my previous post on M. x loebneri ‘Merrill’, entitled Identity Theft, November 26, 2012.)

Winter Superstars: Hamamelis x intermedia ‘Pallida’ & Salix chaenomeloides ‘Mt. Aso’

Mar12

I was longing for Spring but Mother Nature’s Evil Twin wasn’t finished with us. As soon as the snow melted enough to see bare ground, we were zapped with yet another storm on March 8th—my birthday, no less—causing more havoc and ruin. It’s enough to make your head spin.

Thank goodness for the intrepid and beautiful Hamamelis x intermedia ‘Pallida’. ( Zones 5-8 ). This award-winning, sweetly fragrant Witch Hazel bloomed on, despite the strong winds and heavy snow. Pallida has lovely yellow flowers with vibrant reddish-purple calyxes and foliage that turns a rich banana-yellow in the Fall. According to Witch Hazel guru, Chris Lane, “It sets the standard on which to judge all others.” ( See Lane’s authoritative reference, Witch Hazels, Timber press, 2005.)

Witch Hazels do best in compost enriched, well-drained, acid soil. It’s important to supply sufficient moisture, especially in times of summer drought. Mulching helps. My Pallida flourishes with filtered sun in winter and early spring before the oaks leaf out and in high shade thereafter. It’s sited in front of a white pine that serves as an ideal backdrop for the hazel’s flowers.

Hamamelis 'Pallida' (3/8/13): copyright 2013 - Lois Sheinfeld

H. 'Pallida' post storm: copyright 2013 - Lois Sheinfeld

Another winter-wonder worth mentioning is the magical Salix chaenomeloides ‘Mt Aso’ (Zones 6-8), a Pussy Willow adorned head-to-toe with fabulous pink catkins. Irresistible!

Like Witch Hazels, Willows appreciate moist, well-drained soil, but require more sun. Mt. Aso, relatively new to my garden, is faring well with filtered morning sun. As you can see from the before-and-after snow storm photos below, the pink “pussy willows” have been doing their star-turn for months, despite MN’s ET’s never-ending winter assaults. Amazing!

catkins emerging before storms: copyright 2013 - Lois Sheinfeld

closeup of catkins emerging: copyright 2013 - Lois Sheinfeld

catkins between storms: copyright 2013 - Lois Sheinfeld

catkins post storms: copyright 2013 - Lois Sheinfeld

It has now warmed up a bit. Dare we hope for an early Spring?

March 29 Post Update: Mt. Aso is a bottomless well of interesting. Check out the Springtime Fashionista in pale yellow, dove grey, and a sprinkle of pink.

Skimmia japonica: Shade Plant Sublime

Feb3

When we left northern California and returned to the east coast in the early 1980’s we bought wooded acreage in Southampton N.Y., built a house and started a garden. Actually, 14 lilac bushes went in before the house was finished. I couldn’t wait.

Lilacs are my favorite flowers. They need a cold spell in order to bloom, so for the twelve years we lived in La La Land, zone 9, I was lilac-deprived. (We did have one small shrub in a pot that we fed ice cubes all winter while we sang, “New York, New York, it’s a wonderful town”. It rewarded us with two or three flowers every year.)

California nurseries tried to sell us on “California lilacs,” a/k/a Ceanothus, which we scornfully rejected. They looked nothing like real lilacs. ( Of course I would now kill to have a glorious, sumptuous, blue flowering Ceanothus in the garden. Figures, doesn’t it? ) But I digress.

After the house was built we lined one side of a shady path with a group of the woody ornamental shrub Skimmia japonica. A friend of a friend was experimenting with them and urged us to try some. At the time I hadn’t heard of Skimmia, no one I knew had them, and they weren’t available at local or mail-order nurseries. Now, 25 years later, what a difference. Skimmia is everyone’s darling, and rightfully so.

Through lectures and meetings I have certainly done my part in spreading the word about its many virtues and happily take the opportunity to do so here:

Skimmia is a reliable, prolific bloomer, even as a young plant, and even in shade, which is its preferred location. Lovely creamy-white flowers open in April, releasing their delicious fragrance into the air. Large reddish flower buds are produced in early autumn and carry over winter, so the shrubs appear to be flowering in the snow. And in late summer, female plants produce clusters of fat, fire-engine-red berries — which the birds ignore until spring — so that highly decorative flowers and fruit adorn the shrubs at the same time.

Skimmia japonica is dioecious and requires both male and female plants for fruit. I don’t grow the self-fertilizing variety, Skimmia reevesiana. The jury is out on its performance: reviews are mixed, some good, some not.

No doubt about Skimmia japonica’s garden worthiness. In addition to fabulous flowers and fruit, the shrub’s magnolia-like, thick textured, dark green leaves are evergreen, and if rubbed or bruised emit a strong herbal scent that repels deer. Fragrant flowers, evergreen foliage, decorative fruit — and deer resistant! To my mind, as close to perfect as a plant can get.

And yet, with all its superlative qualities, Skimmia isn’t a prima donna requiring constant pampering. Far from it. But there are a few essential culture requirements: moist, acid, well-drained organic soil, and most important, SHADE.

Skimmia is winter hardy here on Long Island, zone 7, and despite periods of horrific and loony weather we have never lost a plant. Zone 6 may be somewhat iffy but given a bit of protection surely worth a try. (Sort of the reverse of our lilac in a pot with ice cubes.)

One other thing. My shrubs are over 6 feet tall. The plants I now see for sale and in gardens mature at 2 or 3 feet tops. The current garden trend does seem to favor dwarf plants.

Large or small, Skimmia japonica is an outstanding plant of enduring merit. One of the best.

Skimmia japonica copyright 2013 - Lois Sheinfeld

Note: Setting The Record Straight. Growing along the same path as Skimmia japonica, Hamamelis x intermedia ‘Orange Peel’ has been in dazzling bloom since mid-January.

Hamamelis x intermedia ‘Orange Peel’ —
copyright 2013 – Lois Sheinfeld

Because of its sweet fragrance, I chose Orange Peel over the similar orange-flowered Witch Hazel, H. x intermedia ‘Jelena’. While Jelena is a looker, her flowers have no scent. ( See the authoritative reference in the field, Chris Lane’s 2005 Royal Horticultural Society Plant Collector Guide: Witch Hazels. )

I’m surprised that garden writers continue to wax eloquent about Jelena’s wonderful fragrance. In The King and I, the King of Siam said it best: “Is a puzzlement!”

The Next Best Thing 2013: Part 3

Jan26

Fairweather Gardens

Many of my favorite plants have come from Fairweather Gardens (www.fairweathergardens.com), and I’m excited about its 2013 catalog offerings. Here are my choices:

True to its name, Hemerocallis ‘Milk Chocolate’ is a exquisite, brown daylily. I already grow a bunch — but more is better. I’m not aware of another source for this wonderful, uniquely colored plant. Z. 3-9.

Rohdea japonica ‘Galle’

Rohdea japonica ‘Galle’ is a 12-18 inch high, evergreen, shade perennial. A handsome ground cover or edging plant, Galle has shiny, dark green leaves, short stalked pale-yellow spring flowers, and carmine-red berries in the fall. Z. 6-9.

My red-flowering Cytisus scoparius ‘Burkwoodii’ was so knock-your-socks-off gorgeous it took my breath away. (See photos below) That is, before the voles killed it. Now that I’ve discovered VoleBloc ( See April 2012 Post, “Hot Tips: Vole Damage Protection” ), I can safely invite this ornamental woody beauty back into my life. I’ve ordered three replacement plants. Happily, Fairweather assures me they will be blooming size. Cytisus is an easy-care plant: Provide sun and infertile, sandy soil; once established, there’s no need to feed or water. Z. 5-8.

Baby 'Burkwoodi'copyright 2013 - Lois Sheinfeld

Baby ‘Burkwoodii’
copyright 2013 – Lois Sheinfeld

Mature 'Burkwoodi'copyright 2013 - Lois Sheinfeld

Mature ‘Burkwoodii’
copyright 2013 – Lois Sheinfeld

Finally, I’ve chosen a new and distinctive tree to grace my garden: Abies pinsapo ‘Aurea’ ( Golden Spanish Fir) is an eye-catching conifer with dense, sharp, prickly needles that emerge golden yellow before turning chartreuse green. This uncommon, slow-grower is suitable for a large or small garden and appreciates well drained soil with protection from intense afternoon sun. Z. 6-9.

Abies pinsapo ‘Aurea’

Note: Fairweather Gardens is a small grower/nursery, so there are limited quantities of each plant. If you are interested, order now.

The Next Best Thing 2013: Part 2

Jan9

Klehm’s Song Sparrow Farm and Nursery

A long time ago I visited the New York Flower Show in Manhattan and was seduced by a beautiful peony from Klehm Nursery. The New York Flower Show may be defunct, but for twenty years and counting I’ve been a Klehm plant groupie.

The nursery specializes in and hybridizes peonies and daylilies but it has also been my go-to place for fabulous woody ornamentals and perennials. Here are some of my 2013 picks:

Paeonia ‘Guardian of the Monastery’

Tree Peony, Paeonia ‘Guardian of the Monastery’, is a vision with dazzling flowers in shades of mauve and lavender with purple flares. From spring to fall, Klehm ships these 3-to-4 year old woodies in pots. (Note: I’m delighted that apart from daylilies and herbaceous peonies all of Klehm’s plants are shipped in their containers.) Zones 4-8.

Clematis ‘Omoshiro’

Clematis ‘Omoshiro’, has large, 5-7 inch, lightly fragrant, pale-pink flowers with a dark-pink edge and reverse. I am surprised that the name Omoshiro means amusing, interesting. In this case, don’t you think WOWIE! is more apt? The plants are two-year-old trellised vines that will probably bloom the first season. (That’s my experience with Klehm clematis, not a Klehm guarantee.) Zones 4-9.

Pinus cembra ‘Big Blue’

Pinus cembra ‘Big Blue’, is a dense, slow growing, showy, evergreen conifer with long blue needles. I am very fond of blue plants and the birds love conifers. A win, win. Zones 2-8.

x Heucherella ‘Gold Zebra’

x Heucherella ‘Gold Zebra’ is a ground-cover or edging plant sporting gold leaves splashed with dark red swirls. There are white flowers in the spring, but this shade perennial is all about the foliage. Zones 4-9.

Klehm’s 2013 catalog can be easily accessed by clicking on this blog’s LINKS.

Autumn Color: Lindera angustifolia

Oct19

I’m besotted. Every day I stand in awe before Lindera angustifolia, the Asian Spicebush, utterly transfixed by its dazzling Fall foliage display of fiery orange and pink. (Not to mention the elegant silvery-gray leaf reverse.)

The shrub is new to my garden and now I can’t imagine the garden without it.

British author, Dame Penelope Lively, got it right: “For me”, she said, “gardening is a sequence of obsessions — the tingle of discovery, the love affair with the latest acquisition”.

My plant is about three feet tall but will reportedly grow from eight to ten feet. What a spectacular autumn sight that will be! I feel faint just thinking about it.

Clusters of small yellow flowers will appear on the stems in early Spring, but only female plants will produce berries; the shrub is dioecious and requires male fertilization. Like its kissin’ cousin, Lindera benzoin (our native Spicebush), L. angustifolia’s leaves have a spicy fragrance, though opinion is split as to whether the flowers are also fragrant. I’ll let you know when it blooms for me. (BTW, the same spicy, herbal foliage is enjoyed by Skimmia japonica and ensures it’s deer-resistance; deer don’t like the smell.)

In accordance with its culture preferences, I planted L. angustifolia in a shady area that gets a bit of filtered sun in the afternoon. The soil is moist, acid and well-drained.

Autumn may well turn out to be my most favorite season.

Autumn Update: Iochroma & Clerodendrum

Oct3

Iochroma ‘Royal Queen Purple’ has fully lived up to expectations — and then some.

She has been a spectacular non-stop blooming machine for over four months with no end in sight. As soon as one flower cluster fades, another takes its place, to the delight of hummingbirds and bees.

Planted in a large container, the Queen achieved five feet by six feet and was fertilized only once, not monthly as was suggested. And she receives filtered afternoon sun, not full sun all day. She may be royal, but she doesn’t require pampering.

Downside? Her stems were so heavily laden with royal-purple blossoms, they did need a bit of support. That’s about it. And I suspect that if she were grown in the ground, even that would not be required.

For me, an unqualified success.

Clerodendrum trichotomum has just begun to reveal its Autumn splendor. When the pink calyxes open, the pea-sized fruit inside has a greenish hue before turning a rich, metallic cerulean blue. A sight to behold.

Here in zone 7, the promise of fragrant flowers and blue fruit at the same time was not to be. ( See “August 2012: Clerodendrum,Hydrangea,Phygelius”). No problem. In fact I prefer it this way, appreciating each superb feature in its turn. Too much of a good thing the other way, don’t you think?

Sited in shade with a bit of filtered sun, C. trichotomum flourishes in my organic garden in acid, well-drained soil.

Both plants add to the garden’s Autumn magic.

Addendum: Photo update of Clerodendrum a few weeks later:

Autumn Magic: Lespedeza and Callicarpa

Sep29

About twenty years ago, on a brisk Fall day, I visited a beautiful lower-Manhattan community garden. There I saw Lespedeza thunbergii ‘Gibraltar’ for the first time and was instantly smitten. It has graced my garden, on and off, ever since. I say on and off because the voles are equally smitten. ( See Archives, April 2012, “Hot Tips: Vole Damage Prevention”).

While styled a woody shrub, in my zone 7 garden it behaves like a herbaceous perennial, dying back in Winter and returning in Spring. Not a problem, since an established plant can grow a formidable six feet high and six feet wide in one growing season.

In Spring and Summer the shrub is clothed in lovely blue-green foliage. Then in the early Fall, the long, slender stems are smothered in magenta pea-like flowers, creating an enchanting fountain of resplendent blossoms. Breathtaking! I’ve paired Gibraltar with a standard form of PeeGee Hydrangea (H. paniculata ‘Grandiflora’) whose snowy white flowers turn pink about the same time. As you can see from the photo it was love at first sight, with Lespedeza reaching up to embrace PeeGee before cascading down.

I’m mad about magenta. But if it isn’t your thing, I also have and recommend an equally impressive white-flowering form of Lespedeza, L.t.’White Fountain’. As a bonus, this cultivar sports lovely golden foliage in late autumn. An ideal partner for Callicarpa dichotoma, which turns autumnal gold at the same time.

Splendid Fall foliage is but one virtue of Callicarpa dichotoma. Aptly named Purple Beautyberry, this ornamental shrub is acclaimed for it’s spectacular Autumn display of purple berries. Though again, if purple doesn’t move you or if it’s too much of a wow, try the more refined, yet elegant, white-berried form, C.d. var. albifructus. I have and like both.

In my garden, Lespedeza and Callicarpa flourish in shade and well drained acid soil. Apart from the aforementioned voles, which regard both as menu favorites, the plants have been trouble free.

More Autumn beauties next time.

August 2012: Clerodendrum,Hydrangea,Phygelius

Aug25

If, like me, you are mad about fragrant plants, you will love Clerodendrum trichotomum, the Harlequin Glorybower. The buds on my deciduous shrub have just started to open and the perfume is heavenly. The flowers are also a welcome late summer gift for butterflies. Cerulean blue, pea-sized fruit nestled in dark pink calyxes follow the bloom. (Note the blue caps on the ends of the dancing flower stamens. Putting us on notice of the fruit to come?). Flowers and fruit may even appear at the same time. Very showy.

My shrub is about 7 feet tall but in warmer climes Glorybower can grow into a magnificent 15-20 ft. tree. Tree or shrub, it’s disease-and-pest-resistant. The only downside is its propensity for invasiveness.

I should mention that C. trichotomum’s other common name is Peanut Butter Tree; when the leaves are bruised they are supposed to smell like peanut butter. I put it to the test. Result? Stick with Glorybower.

You can never have enough hydrangeas. Mother Nature agrees. She (in league with the birds?) has graced my garden with a bountiful selection of the most beautiful flowering volunteers. Many of these, in glorious bloom now, are probably the offspring of Hydrangea paniculata. At least I think so. The foliage is the same and the bloom time corresponds; short of a DNA test, if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, etc., etc., and so forth. One of these plants is over 6 feet and flaunts gorgeous, brobdingnagian panicles of fertile and sterile flowers. When the fertile buds open, intoxicating fragrance fills the garden. I’m in awe. And so are the bees.

Please forgive me for saying this ad infinitum: Be careful when you weed. A volunteer may turn out to be one of the best plants in the garden. Mine did.

As I reported in May, Phygelius x rectus ‘Moonraker’, planted in the ground last summer, suffered very little winter dieback. It’s now over two feet, multi-stemmed, with masses of elegant, long, pale yellow trumpets. A big success.

This Spring I experimented by planting in a container the hummingbird magnets, pristine-white-flowered Phygelius aequalis ‘Snow Queen’ and the glowing-pink-flowered Phygelius aequalis ‘Sani Pass’. They have been in continuous, harmonious bloom ever since. (For best effect, I remove the spent flowers). Check out the closeup photos below: P.a. ‘Snow Queen’ weeps golden tears and P.a. ‘Sani Pass’ is a party-girl in red lipstick. A fabulous duo. Compact and ever-blooming, P. aequalis plants are perfect in pots.

Late summer in my garden. Not bad at all.

Hibiscus ‘Jazzberry Jam’ and Passiflora ‘Incense’: “One is Silver and The Other is Gold”

Aug11

While I was strolling thru the garden, two summer flowering dazzlers put me in mind of the old nursery rhyme, “make new friends but keep the old, one is silver and the other is gold.” I would like to share these two remarkable plants with you.

First up, Passiflora x ‘Incense,’ my golden oldie. About fifteen years ago, I was obsessed with the unique beauty and intoxicating perfume of Passionflower vines and planted a half dozen. With the first frost they all died, never to be seen again — all except P. x ‘Incense’, which died back in winter but returned the following summer and for every summer since. This by itself is pretty amazing for a tropical vine in zone seven, but as a special bonus Incense produces passion fruit. The plant is a doer!

And a spreader. Many baby vines pop up in the garden, traveling underground from the mother plant. Perhaps a problem for some, but not for me. I either stick a support next to them (they can grow to eight feet and bloom the first season) or I just yank them out. One other thing: Incense requires adequate water, doesn’t like it dry. Otherwise, it’s easy care and problem free.

P. x ‘Incense’, beloved by bees , butterflies, hummingbirds, (and me), proves its worth year after year. A hardy Passionflower. Who would have thought?

New to my garden this year, Hibiscus ‘Jazzberry Jam’ (Rose Mallow) had me spellbound as soon as I saw the first flower. ZOWIE! Ten inches of ruffled, screaming pink! And the plant is multi-flowered, blooms for months, and is three feet tall. I love a bit of razzle-dazzle, don’t you? Jazzberry is touted as a perennial. I hope that’s so. But with all its bells and whistles, even one season would suffice.

Gold and silver. Old and new garden treasure.

Prunus ‘Snow Fountain’

Nov30

My spring garden is full of wonder and surprise. One year I was startled by the appearance of a diminutive red tulip, which grew right through the brown-stemmed skeleton of a withered ageratum. How did the tiny bulb get there? Its a mystery to me.

Equally puzzling are the single daffodils that suddenly unfurl hundreds of feet from the bulbs I planted. Daffodils naturalize, but do they also fly?

Perhaps a bird is the carrier. But only one intent on suicide would molest a toxic daffodil bulb; birds are, in fact, health freaks, sensible enough to prefer rose hips which contain 400 times more vitamin C per ounce than oranges.

And that may explain the rosa rugosa which sprang from the middle of a thick mound of juniper on the north side of the house. An unlikely spot for a rose, so unlikely that I’m rather inclined to think its the work of a squirrel, the ultimate haphazard gardener.

To my amazement and delight, the garden plays host to a wide assortment of extraordinary volunteers, so I’m especially careful when I rake and weed because I never know what wonderful plants may magically appear. Like seedlings of my treasure , Prunus ‘Snow Fountain’.

Twenty years ago at the Philadelphia Flower Show I saw this luminous weeping cherry for the first time. I had to have her. Easier said than done. She was not labeled; she was not part of a sponsored exhibit; no one at the show knew who she was or to whom she belonged. Kidnapping crossed my mind but this angel’s 12-foot wide arching wingspan smothered in fragrant, snowy white blossoms was a tad much for the Metroliner.

What’s a crazed, lovesick, gardener to do? Hit the phones, of course. You know, six degrees of separation. It worked. She was identified and two months later she was mine. (Not the Philly goddess. A lovely, young New York model).

And we are living happily ever after. Snow Fountain is very healthy, blooms reliably and heavily every year, and flaunts dazzling Fall foliage in shades of burnt orange and red. When her flowers fade, she produces tiny ornamental fruit that songbirds love. And thus, the wonderful cherry tree seedlings which pop up in the garden every now and again.

Ain’t Mother Nature grand?

Identity Theft

Nov26

Where is the FBI when you really need them? Con artists stole my darling Merrill’s identity, and he is so bloody mad it’s enough to make his teeth curl. That is, if he had teeth.

Merrill is a gorgeous, fragrant, white flowering magnolia, la crème de la crème of magnolias. No wonder imposters abound. A few years ago I was reading Montrose: Life in A Garden by plantswoman Nancy Goodwin, when at pages 37 and 38 I was confronted by a magnolia purporting to be Merrill, flaunting pink buds and flowers with pink stripes. There’s no pink in Merrill! I should know; he has graced my garden in Southampton, New York for over twenty years.

Yet upon further reflection I thought, what if my Merrill is the pretender? I raced to the study and checked the definitive magnolia references. Ah, vindication! The experts agree. No pink in Merrill. Goodwin’s magnolia must have been wrongly labeled. (At pages 181-182, she acknowledges that this happened to another of her magnolias.)

Magnolia x loebneri Merrill was hybridized in 1939 at the Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University, the child of a marriage between M. kobus and M. stellata, and in 1952 was named Merrill in honor of Dr. E.D. Merrill, a former director of the Arboretum. Merrill is part of the hybrid magnolia group loebneri, which originated in Germany with Max Löbner, who made the first kobus/stellata crosses shortly before World War I. Why is the group styled loebneri and not lobneri? I haven”t a clue. But my meaningful-other says the answer is no mystery. The German letter ö with a diacritical mark called an umlaut over it is pronounced ee and is always rendered as oe when German names are spelled out in English texts, unless the translator is sloppy. (Is anyone still there?)

In the year of Merrill’s christening, the Arbotetum’s publication Arnoldia reported that Merrill was covered with beautiful white flowers (Arnoldia, vol. 12, no. 6, 1952) and thereafter that Merrill was “[o]ne of the best and most vigorous of the early white flowering magnolias (Arnoldia, vol. 20, no. 3/4, 1960). Indeed, these observations are entirely consistent with all of the documentation provided me by the Arboretum. Pink is not mentioned in connection with Merrill, not ever. Case closed.

Magnolia x loebneri Merrill has much to recommend it: While I garden in USDA zone 7, Merrill will thrive in zones 5 to 8. Growth is rapid , two feet a year , and my trees are now over 30 feet tall. Despite the energy invested in such vigorous growth, Merrill bloomed abundantly at an early age and reliably every year thereafter. The beautiful, snowy-white flowers have a lovely fragrance which carries on the air. Come Fall, when the lustrous green foliage turns a rich autumnal gold, plump scarlet red fruit attracts an assortment of migrating birds.

Why settle for less?

floragloria

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