Friday, October 30, 2020

Continental Conifers



If you consider the term Continental conifers you wouldn't be wrong to include those trees native to The Continent, i.e. Europe. Or you could define it differently...as in trees native to earth's various continents, all seven of them. Sadly there are no conifers extant in Antarctica* – one of the seven – but the other six do contain cone-bearing species, and they include North America, South America, Australia, Asia, the Arctic and yes, The Continent (Europe) too. Conifers are placed in the Order Coniferales which includes pines, firs, spruces, cypresses etc. The Latin name comes from conus for “cone” and ferre meaning to “bear” or “carry,” and that from the Proto-Indo-European root bher, meaning “to bear” or “to bear children.”

*Antarctica wasn't always frigid and conifers used to exist there. One Araucaria species, known as the “Norfolk Island pine” (Araucaria heterophylla) is known from the fossil record. 52 million years ago, before South America and Antarctica split, Norfolk Island pines were part of a rainforest that ranged across Australasia and Antarctica and up up into Patagonia.

Picea abies

I grow trees (or shrubs) from the remaining six continental locations, so let's consider some in their geographical distribution. Picea abies, the “Norway spruce,” is by definition from the Continent (Europe), but know that its range extends from northern Greece into the Arctic Circle, and also eastward to Poland and the Urals, the mountain range that basically separates Europe from Asia. I have seen the species in Greece, looking somewhat stunted, but I have never been to the Arctic or the Urals.


Old Tjikko


Probably the most famous Picea abies is not one of the myriad of today's cultivars, but rather Old Tjikko, the 9,550-year-old tree from Dalarna Province, Sweden, which makes it older than any Bristlecone pine (P. longaeva). It stands only 16' tall, and if you want to nit-pick it is a clonal tree, meaning that it regenerates new trunks and branches rather than being an individual tree of great age. Old Tjikko, named after the discoverer's dog, is surrounded by 20 other spruces, all over 8,000 years old. Due to heavy snow at their location on Fulufjallet Mountain, branches are weighted to the ground where they can take root which is why it is a clonal tree, and carbon dating estimates the age. A tree can't be much older from this area because the last ice age receded around 10,000 years ago. I would love to visit Old T. but one has to take a pre-booked guided tour in summer. That's probably best, so some blonde Norwegian knucklehead doesn't carve his initials or profess his love for his girlfriend on the trunk.


Pinus pinaster


Pinus pinaster


An interesting European conifer, Pinus pinaster, is commonly known as the “Maritime pine” since it is native to the western Mediterranean region, and even extends to northern Africa. I don't grow it due to questionable hardiness, although I could keep one in the greenhouse I suppose. P. pinaster's canopy isn't particularly impressive, somewhat broad and colored light yellowish-green to bluish-green, but it sports the longest needles (in fascicles of two) of all European Pinus species. Due to straight trunks it is an important forestry tree in Europe, although it has become invasive in South Africa, Australia and Argentina. Besides timber, it is a source of turpentine. Ornamentally, the main event is the orange-brown to dark purple plating bark, but I suspect I would never see it as spectacular in the greenhouse compared with the outdoor-grown trunk photos above. Pinaster is Latin for “wild pine.”


Pinus canariensis


Pinus canariensis is endemic to the Canary Islands (Islas Kanarjas), a Spanish archipelago that is quite closer to Africa (Morocco - 62 miles or 100 km) than to Spain. So, though from Europe politically, I consider it part of the African continent. Like Pinus pinaster, the bark of the Canary Island pine is fissured into gray to reddish-brown plates, but to me the canopy of P. canariensis is more attractive than with P. pinaster because the foliage is a pretty, grass green. Alas, not hardy either.


Juniperus cedrus


Juniperus cedrus


I have written before about Juniperus cedrus – also from the Canary Islands – so I won't dwell on it much here. I had it early in my career, but lost it in the winter of the second year that it was planted out. Of course it died, and Rushforth in Conifers says, “In cultivation, it needs a warm sunny site, otherwise it is tender. Zone 9 [20 F].” A dozen years ago I acquired another clone of Juniperus cedrus and it has demonstrated greater hardiness, and even survived 5 degrees F a few years ago. It demonstrates that you can have significant variation within a species, and it's why I hate to provide hardiness ratings, as if I or anyone else is qualified to do so.


Widdringtonia schwarzii


Samuel Edward Widdrington


The genus Widdringtonia is in the Cupressaceae family and the evergreen is native to central and South Africa. I have seen most of the species in mild-area arboreta, but none have impressed me as much as W. schwarzii which comes from the Willowmore District in Cape Province. It forms a narrow tree when young, but grows up to 100' in the wild and the canopy eventually becomes quite broad. I've seen photos of old gnarled specimens with attractive reddish-gray bark. The genus name honors Edward Widdrington, a Royal Navy captain and conifer botanist who was active in the late 1700s and early 1800s. The specific epithet honors Friedrich Schwarz, a 20th century cactus collector.


Afrocarpus usambarensis


Afrocarpus usambarensis


Afrocarpus is a genus of six species in the Podocarpaceae family, and it was formally classified by John Theodore Buchholz, a professor of botany at the University of Illinois, the same botanist responsible for the segregation of Sequoiadendron as a separate genus from Sequoia. A. usambarensis is an evergreen conifer native to Rwanda, The Congo and Tanzania, and it is dioecious with male and female cones borne on separate plants. One must wonder how a genus in the podocarp family wound up in central Africa. The answer is that it was present in the ancient super continent of Gondwana which broke apart into the continents/countries containing South America, Africa, India, Australia and Antarctica between 160 and 30 million years ago. Yes, wow, land-masses floating and smashing into each other...and I would love to have a time-lapse photographic documentation of those events. Scientific evidence suggests that Africa drifted north into a more hot and more dry environment where the Podocarpaceae survived and thrived in the cool highlands of eastern and southern Africa. We have earlier seen how the Araucariaceae (as in the Norfolk Island pine) drifted north to its present position, and all you need is a couple of dozen millions of years to accomplish the process.


Araucaria bidwillii


Araucaria bidwillii


An interesting conifer that is native to the Australian continent is Araucaria bidwillii. According to The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2019), “A large tree in the wild, much smaller in cultivation in the British Isles, with a dome-shaped crown, with long-reaching branches off the main straight trunk.” This species was first described by Bidwill in 1843 and the type location is in the Bunya Mountains, hence the common name of “Bunya Bunya tree.” The mountains were very significant to the indigenous people, and it was an area of major gatherings which occurred when the nuts of the Bunya pine ripened, from December to March. These were the largest indigenous gatherings in all of Australia, but sadly the events terminated in 1902. Araucaria bidwillii is the sole species in Section Bunya, except fossils of closely-related Araucaria mirabilis can be found in Patagonia, which is further evidence of the Gondwana split.


Araucaria cunninghamii


Araucaria cunninghamii


Allan Cunningham


Araucaria cunninghamii is commonly known as the “Hoop pine,” and the scientific epithet honors the botanist/explorer Allan Cunningham who collected the first specimens in the 1820s. The “hoop” name refers to the rough-barked trunk with circular markings. There is another form, A.c. var. papuana, that is found in the mountains of Papua New Guinea, and a third, var. glauca, that occurs on Magnetic Island off the coast of Queensland. A. cunninghamii is planted as an ornamental and is an important source of timber, and in the past it was used as masts for sailing ships, as the wood is soft but tough. The continent's champion tree measures 121' tall (37m) while the tallest is 144' tall (44m) in the Bunya mountains. A “champion” tree combines height, trunk circumference and crown spread.


Callitris macleayana


Callitris preisii


Callitris preissii




The Australian genus Callitris is commonly called a “Cypress pine,” although it is in the Cupressaceae family and not a pine at all. I have grown a couple of species, C. macleayana and C. preissii, but don't have these non-hardy species anymore because I gave them away to California customer-friends. Both are attractive in a rugged way at a mature size, but frankly they didn't look like much at a smaller size in my greenhouse. Sometimes I grow a species for five or six years and then I have had my fill of it, especially the ones that are not hardy in Oregon. C. macleayana is commonly known as the Stringybark pine for obvious reasons, but it can grow up to 131' tall (40m). C. preissii is endemic to Rottnest Island, Australia, and it has many common names ,but the Noongar people know it as marro. These aborigines live in the southwest of Australia, and have done so for over 45,000 years. Wanju Wanju Kaartdijin Noongar means “Welcome to Noongar knowledge.” One important demonstration of knowledge is that C. preissii is used along the Murray River as a combined canoe pole and fish spear nearly 13' (4m) long. All of the above photos were taken in mild-area arboreta, and I've never seen any Callitris in the wild.


Araucaria angustifolia


Araucaria angustifolia


Araucaria angustifolia


Let's head now to South America from Australia, a distance of 9,483 miles (15,261 km), where we also find Araucaria. Besides the universally-known Araucaria araucana (the “Monkey Puzzle tree”), a lesser-known species is A. angustifolia, the “Brazilian Monkey Puzzle,” and it differs with narrower leaves. The epithet angustifolia is from Latin angustus meaning “narrow” and folium meaning “leaf.” According to Hillier it is endangered in the wild and rare in cultivation in the British Isles.


Podocarpus salignus


Also from South America is Podocarpus salignus, and according to Hillier, it's “A most attractive and elegant small tree or large shrub with drooping branches and long, narrow, bright grey-green leaves.” The evergreen is from southern Chile and is known as the “Willow-leaf podocarp.” Unfortunately it's not hardy for me, but I'd love to acquire one for the greenhouse. The above photo was taken in southern England and I envy their climate.


Abies religiosa


Abies religiosa


There are a great number of coniferous species from North America, and one of my favorites is the Mexican-Guatemalan Abies religiosa, the “Sacred Fir.” Though it is listed to USDA zone 8 (10F), I've had one in the collection for over 25 years, but it's difficult to photograph because the foliage is sooo dark green. The common name is due to its use as decoration in religious festivals, and to the indoctrinated the appearance of the needles along the stem resemble a cross. The fir was first described by Carl Kunth (1788-1850) but it was seen by my exploration heroes, the Europeans Humboldt and Bonpland before that (in the early 1800s).


Monarch butterflies in the Michoacan mountains



Twenty years ago I visited Mexico with my good friend R. Hatch, and one of my purposes – less so, his – was to venture into the Michoacán mountains to see the Abies religiosa forest, for that is where the Monarch butterflies congregate to overwinter and then mate. Wow – mating Monarchs! – it promised to be one of nature's greatest orgies, and I am pervert enough to want to voyeur. We arose early from Morelia – the state's capital city – and zoomed into the mountains to see the butterflies. Logging was evident, and habitat loss is one of the main threats to their survival. It was Hatch who prompted such an early start, and when we arrived at our destination it was barely light at 8:30 AM and there was frost upon the ground. It was cold; but after a half-mile walk we arrived at the area most populated by the winged creatures; we found masses lethargically sleeping upon the branches, with only a few fluttering about. At 5000-to-6000' elevation (I suppose) it was too early for the Monarchs to de-cling and become active, and since Hatch – not me – was anxious to press on I never did see them in full flutter, and I probably never will return.





The Pinophyta (known commonly as “conifers”) was estimated (in 1998) to contain 8 families, 68 genera and 629 living species...but I'm sure that numerous reclassifications in the past 22 years have skewed those figures. I suppose that the greatest number occur in the continent of Asia, but I've never done the counting. I read once that the greatest number of conifer species per a certain area of medium size was in California, and I thought – wait a minute! – I'll bet it is in Japan, not California. So, whatever the California number was, which I now forget, I went to my Hilliers Manual and counted those species native to Japan. It turns out that the California assertion was correct, but not by much.


Picea torano


Picea torano


Picea torano


In any case, let's consider one Asian conifer: Picea torano, previously known as P. polita, “from central Honshu, Japan, south to Shikoku and Kyushu” according to Rushforth in Conifers. Hillier (or the RHS) now contend that precedence insists upon P. torano (also hari momi) which is translated from Japanese as “tiger's tail” due to the viciously sharp needles...and my grafters can certainly attest to that unpleasant attribute. It is a beautiful, dense symmetrical species and I love its pitch-dripping cones. I have grown and sold P. torano for over 30 years and we propagate by grafting onto the “Norway spruce,” Picea abies. Rushforth is very paucus with P. torano information – and I wonder why – but he claims it is hardy to zone 6. That's a good guess, but I have a Michigan customer who repeatedly buys it and his customers garden in zone 5. Though it is a bitch to graft, the current-year's shoots are attractively blonde in color and the round buds are fascinating to me, very unlike any other spruce species. I wrote this last sentence from my couch at night, but the following morning I ventured out into the Upper Gardens to reconfirm my description, and yes, it is accurate.


Ginkgo biloba


Ginkgo biloba 'Saratoga'


Ok: I guess I have discussed all of the earth's continents...haven't I? Concerning conifers, do I have a favorite? Yes, of course I do – it is Ginkgo biloba – a sort-of-conifer according to many because it has deciduous leaves; but its botanic designation in the Coniferae is due to mobile sperm in its reproductive process. What?! – swimming seed?! – well, yes – that is in the definition.

Friday, October 23, 2020

Out Into the Real World


Flora Farm

Every year we harvest trees from the Upper Gardens at Flora Farm, some quite sizable. That leaves big craters until we get around to filling them with topsoil, which we are doing today with our sunny weather. Other gaps in our planting occur when a tree dies, or when I get sick of looking at another because it is continuously struggling. Replacements are selected by me, and the criteria is that I want a tree or shrub out of the nursery where it is often coddled, and put into the “real world,” in real soil...for better or for worse.

Acer buergerianum 'Michael Steinhardt'


Acer buergerianum 'Michael Steinhardt'


A golden Acer buergerianum, named 'Michael Steinhardt', was given to me about 7 years ago, and now we are propagating and growing a crop in the greenhouse. They are not as golden inside under white poly, but they are so happy with our container culture that 5' shoots can develop. It was Don Shadow, the noted southern plantsman who gifted me the tree, and the original mother plant is growing in full sun at his home in southern Tennessee. I saw it in May and it looked brilliant, and Shadow claims that it never burns, even with the heat of August. We'll find out how it fares in Oregon sun, the main difference being that we have no humidity when we reach 100F and Tennessee's air veritably drips with water then. The cultivar name honors Michael Steinhardt, a New York city financier who owns an arboretum/zoo (Iroki) near Mount Kisco, New York.


Acer palmatum 'Golden Falls'


Acer palmatum 'Golden Falls'


Another seedling selection that will make its debut out in the real elements is Acer palmatum 'Golden Falls'. As with the 'Michael Steinhardt', 'Golden Falls' loves our greenhouses, but I anticipate that its foliage will be more bright outdoors. Or, it might burn to a crisp, and since it is my introduction – and I'm already selling them – it's about time that I find out. The seed source was Acer palmatum 'Ryu sei' where about 25% of the seedlings resembled the mother's decidedly weeping habit, except that all of the other seedlings were green.


Schizachyrium scoparium 'The Blues'


The grass, Schizachyrium scoparium 'The Blues', was given to me by a garden friend when he divided his clump, and for the past 3 years it has been hanging out in GH23. I don't anticipate ever propagating it, so it's yet another plant in the collection that makes me no money. The species is commonly called “Little Bluestem” and is native to prairies, open forests and roadsides in America's central states. I'm sure that it will color differently in full sun in dirt compared to the photo above of it in a pot in a white-poly house that is watered every day. The genus name is a mouthful, but it's from Latin schizein meaning “to split” and achyron meaning “chaff,” the dry husk or hull around the grain. The specific epithet scoparium means “broomlike,” and the early settlers probably did use the native weed to sweep their floors.


Yucca rostrata 'Sapphire Skies'


Yucca rostrata 'Sapphire Skies'


We used to buy liners of the patented Yucca rostrata 'Sapphire Skies', but that supplier inexplicably discontinued it, leaving me with just two plants, besides one other planted at the nursery. Since I don't have a “crop” anymore, the two remaining plants are slated for the Quercus (oak) section at Flora Farm. Yucca rostrata is the “Beaked yucca” and is native to Texas and the northern Mexican states of Chihuahua and Coahuila. 'Sapphire Skies' may eventually reach 12' tall, where the silver-blue leaves are mopped atop a single stem which is ornamentally clad with light-brown dead leaves below. Flowers are said to be white and attract hummingbirds, but my oldest has yet to bloom. The word “yucca” is from the Cariban language group from South America from the mouth of the Amazon to the Colombian Andes. There it is the name for Manihot which is commonly called cassava or yuca, and which is completely unrelated to the genus Yucca. The specific epithet rostrata means “curved” or “hooked” in reference to part of the flower, so I'm anxious to check that feature when my plant eventually blooms.


Spiraea morrisonicola


Spiraea morrisonicola


Spiraea morrisonicola


I'm not really a Spiraea guy, but we do propagate and sell S. morrisonicola which originates from elevation on Mt. Morrison in Taiwan. It is a small-growing deciduous species that's attractive in bud, then also when the pink and white flowers fully open. The green leaves of spring and summer change in fall to exciting hues of red and yellow which persist for a month it seems. It is a fun plant, but we planted one in a trough and it went to seed, and now the Spiraea dominates the other plants. The Spiraea Latin name was coined by Linnaeus but it comes from Greek speiraia which was a plant used for “garlands” or “wreaths” due to the showy flower clusters.


Magnolia wilsonii


E.H. Wilson


Another plant that went to Flora Farm to get grounded is Magnolia wilsonii, and yes, its name honors E.H. “Chinese” Wilson, the energetic English explorer/plant collector who introduced many hundreds of species from China into Western cultivation. The photo above of M. wilsonii is fraudulent in a sense, since I lifted the branch up with one hand while shuttering with the other because M. wilsonii's flowers tend to droop downward, and one really requires a mature specimen to evaluate, since you can then walk under the branches laden with blooms; and it's interesting that the closely-related Magnolia sieboldii from Japan presents you with the same dilemma. In The Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs (2019) we receive an adequate description of Magnolia wilsonii (in part): “In May and June bears pendent, saucer-shaped, white flowers with crimson stamens.” Thereafter we are swamped with details that only the cognoscenti could possibly follow:... “In 1981 the narrower-leaved form that was collected by [George] Forrest as M. taliensis W.W.Sm. was seen by the Sino British Expedition to the Cangshan in W Yunnan but it was too early for seed. Seeds of M. wilsonii, collected in 2018 by Mikinori Ogisu from W. Sichuan has germinated at the SHHG. FCC 1971. AM 1932. Trophy cup symbol H6.” I follow all the twists and turns with that description because I am familiar with plant introduction history, and with its cast of characters, but I don't imagine that Mr. George Perkins from Liverpool or Mrs. Betty Rose from a London suburb can decipher any of it, let alone Americans who happen to have purchased the Manual. And, if you go back to that description where “seeds has germinated,” you would probably want to improve it with: “seeds have germinated.”


Stewartia malacodendron 'Beni suji'


Stewartia malacodendron


Stewartia malacodendron


I have an old Stewartia malacodendron at Flora Farm and I prize it greatly, but I want to put another tree in just in case. I'll probably never harvest it because the southeastern USA native is considered difficult to transplant. My older specimen is shrubby and has a southward lean, and probably most in the wild are brushy and crooked as well, but the flowers in July-August, which Hillier describes as “white with purple stamens and bluish anthers,” are my favorite of the genus. The godfather of Japanese nurserymen, Akira Shibamichi, showed me a photo last fall of a S. malacodendron selection ('Beni suji') with streaked-red coloration in the white flower, and he grinned slyly, knowing that I would give anything to get my hands on it. The S. malacodendron is commonly called the “Silky Stewartia” due to the appearance and texture of the flowers, and Linnaeus coined the specific epithet which literally means “soft tree.” By the way, the tree that we will plant is one grafted onto S. pseudocamellia rootstock which is readily available in the trade. The graft union looks good at 5 years of age, but I have no clue about long-term compatibility...which is the point of planting it out.


Cercis canadensis 'Flame Thrower'


Cercis canadensis 'Flame Thrower'


Cercis canadensis 'Golden Falls'


Cercis canadensis 'Golden Falls'


We placed a new Cercis canadensis cultivar, 'Flame Thrower', at Flora Farm and I sited it close to the driveway which pleased my wife because she loves the multi colors. The Neubauers of Hidden Hollow Nursery in Tennessee describe it well in their catalog: “This newcomer boasts a riot of color throughout the season; early shades of burgundy transition to coppery yellow and finish the season with hints of purple.” They also reveal that it was developed by Dr. Dennis Werner and the JC Raulston Arboretum. Dr. Werner has been busy with breeding “redbuds,” with new – but patented – cultivars such as 'Pink Pom Poms' and the weeping selection 'Golden Falls'. I haven't tested 'Golden Falls' outside, but I wish they hadn't used the same name as my weeping Acer palmatum.


Crataegus monogyna 'Flexuosa'


Crataegus monogyna is the “Common hawthorn” and it is native to Europe, north Africa and western Asia, and according to Hillier it is “A familiar native, extensively planted as a hedge throughout the British Isles.” Also, “In autumn its branches are often laden with red fruits, haws;” and since the branches are armed with serious thorns, you can understand the common name of “hawthorn.” The name “haw” was originally an Old English term for hedge, from the Anglo-Saxon haguthorn meaning “a fence with thorns.” The etymology for the name Crataegus is less certain, but could possibly be from Greek kratos for “strength” and aigos, perhaps from Greek aigilops for the Turkey oak, Quercus cerris. The specific epithet monogyna sounds kind of like a condition that a woman could get, but instead refers to “single-seeded.” I collected a scion of the cultivar 'Flexuosa' many winters ago – when no one was looking – and it has been in a container for the past 20 years. I hide it in the back of the row because it always looks horrible until winter when the crappy leaves have fallen and you can appreciate the twisted corkscrew branches. Maybe my specimen resented container culture, but I'm willing to give it a few years in the Flora Farm dirt, and if it doesn't perk up I will edit it from the scape.


Franklinia alatamaha


John Bartram


Franklinia alatamaha is extinct in the wild (from the Alatamaha River Valley in Georgia) but nobody knows what happened. It has a small genetic base because all plants currently in existence come from the collection of the Bartram nurserymen of Philadelphia, PA. John Bartram (1699-1777) was a third-generation Quaker and a friend of Benjamin Franklin, hence the genus name. Bartram started his nursery in 1728 on 102 acres. He collected native plants throughout the colonies and many of the species were sold to the British aristocracy. By the middle of the 18th century, Bartram's garden contained the most varied collection of North American plants in the world. After the American Revolution his sons John Bartram Jr. and William Bartram continued with the international trade and expanded the family's botanic garden (which you can visit today). I always assumed that the Franklinia collected by Bartram was the one and only time it was seen in the wild, but Hillier says it was “perhaps last seen in the wild by the American collector, Lyon, in 1803.” John Lyon (1765-1814) was a Scottish botanist and plant collector, not American, but he made his career in America, leaving Scotland for unknown reasons, but sadly he died during his last expedition at a young age.


Franklinia alatamaha 'Wintonbury'


Franklinia alatamaha 'Wintonbury'


We planted a Franklinia alatamaha 'Wintonbury' yesterday at Flora Farm. I originally collected this cultivar because its flower was said to be larger than the type, but it seems about the same to me. According to our customer at Broken Arrow Nursery, 'Wintonbury' is “A selection made by Mark Sutcliffe from one of the largest plants growing in Connecticut. Plants exhibit typical Franklinia characteristics but also offer improved cold hardiness and disease resistance.” I know that an old specimen of regular Franklinia survives at the Arnold Arboretum near Boston so it's odd that Hillier relates: “It does not flourish in the British Isles and benefits from some glass protection.”


Cornus kousa 'Scarlet Fire'


I'll try again at Flora Farm by planting another Cornus kousa 'Scarlet Fire'...in a different location than where the deer ravaged my first tree a month ago. The problem is that at the bottom of my Upper Gardens is a 50-tree apple orchard where the deer stuff themselves. On their way back up the hill they snacked on my dogwood for dessert. 'Scarlet Fire' is a beauty in bloom with large fuchsia-red bracts that appear on trees even when young. The foliage is clean and rich looking when not in flower, then in autumn you have red foliage and pinkish-red fruits. 'Scarlet Fire' is the trade name for the patented Rutpink which is from Rutgers University, their “first kousa introduction in 45 years of breeding.” We have learned to prune ours which are grown in containers because it can rain all day when they are in flower and the weight of water on the numerous bracts can damage branches. If placed in a greenhouse they grow even faster and they receive overhead water nearly every day in summer. I have read that at maturity 'Scarlet Fire' will grow nearly as broad as tall...but not if the deer get to it first.


Muhlenbergia 'Pink Flamingo'


Muhlenbergia 'Pink Flamingo'


I had no idea what a Muhlenbergia grass was until about seven years ago when I saw it used effectively at the North Carolina State Arboretum. When I saw the cultivar 'Pink Flamingo' listed for sale at the mail-order nursery Plant Delights I immediately ordered one. According to San Marcos Growers of California, it is both drought tolerant and resistant to deer predation, and you know I have the latter problem. The “Pink Muhly” is thought to be a hybrid between M. capillaris and M. lindheimeri that was discovered at Peckerwood Garden in Texas. The German naturalist J.C. von Schreber named the genus for Gotthilf Muhlenberg, a Lutheran minister, and as with so many of the Faithful, he devoted his extra time to the study of botany.


Cathaya argyrophylla


Cathaya argyrophylla


Cathaya argyrophylla


Cathaya argyrophylla


My oldest Cathaya argyrophylla is planted in the Conifer Field at Flora Farm, and while it has coned for a number of years the germination rate is very low (for me). I wanted to give it some company so we planted out a few more in the hopes of better fertility. Male and female inflorescences appear on the same tree, but maybe my specimen just wants to do it with someone else for a change. I've written about Cathaya before – it's a wonderful Chinese conifer – so I won't continue repeating the same information, the same information.


This blog was just an overview of some of the plants that were added at Flora Farm, and I hope that every one of them will outlive me.


I make no promises, Talon”


P.S. Honestly, Flora Farm is not the “real world” at all; it is also a coddled environment where we irrigate, mow the grass, spray weeds and prune and stake. If I was to disappear from it for ten years with no attention to upkeep, probably 50% of the trees would look like hell or be dead, and blackberries and ivy would be smothering the remains. I might derive some sadistic joy from that as well, out of morbid curiousity...just to witness how brutally indifferent Nature can be. So don't lecture me, Flora.