Buchholz Plant Introductions (Part 20)

Picea abies 'Wartburg'

In early spring 1981 I purchased a few thousand bareroot seedlings of “Norway spruce” (Picea abies) and they were potted into 4” plastic containers to be used as rootstock for grafting blue forms of Picea pungens, weeping and dwarf Norways etc. Picture a much younger Buchholz potting into the night after returning from a 10 hour day toiling at the Dutchman's nursery. I couldn't afford employees then, so instead of lounging in front of the TV after dinner I would go out and shovel potting soil onto a 4x8 sheet of plywood and get the job done with a headlamp. That was when I truly learned about work speed, about what was possible to accomplish because I wouldn't allow myself to quit for the night until 400-500 were behind me. Twenty years after that I was informed by a middle-aged office female that I “simply expect too much from my employees.” I countered with, “Well, not the ones who want to make more money,” and quite soon she became an ex-employee.

Picea omorika 'Pendula Bruns'

The night shift continued for me for at least a decade, but when it came time to graft my Picea rootstocks, I could at least retreat into the back end of a warm, dry greenhouse. But still the mantra remained...that I couldn't go to bed until so many grafts were accomplished. One's mind enters into a Zen-like state where the grafting knife, the rubber band, and the scionwood and rootstock all blend into an effortless motion. What occurs is not really work; you're just arranging plant parts, and like with religion you need a dose of faith to accompany the process.

Picea abies 'Gold Dust'

Picea abies 'Gold Dust'

I remember one grafting evening when I pulled from a flat an off-color Picea rootstock where the base of the shoot was blue-green, as was the terminal needles, but the middle portion was an unusual cream-yellow. Not wanting to waste my precious scion on a questionable rootstock I tossed the seedling into the trash bucket. The following morning I went into the greenhouse to put the grafts away and to clean the area, and there sat my rejected rootstock atop a container full of garbage. Somehow I felt compelled to rescue the spruce, because other than the yellowish needles, the seedling itself looked...I don't know, somewhat interesting. Eventually my salvaged tree was named Picea abies 'Gold Dust', and I planted three offspring in a row in our Conifer Field. I reasoned that just one tree would look sickly, but if three were planted together, it would look like they were supposed to look that way. A few years later conifer expert Don Howse of Porterhowse Farms expressed interest in my sicklings, that he thought 'Gold Dust' was worthy of cultivar status. We sold a small number of them for about two decades but it is no longer in production. Today one tree broods by itself in the Conifer Field, about 10' tall at 40 years of age, but I'm the only employee at the nursery who cares about its story, let alone knows where it exists.

Symphoricarpos albus

Polystichum munitum

I have driven a half dozen times from my Oregon nursery, up through the entirety of Washington...and then finally into the Vancouver suburbs in British Columbia, Canada. For the most part the six-hour journey is a non-event, at least horticulturally speaking, because the climate and soils don't experience much difference in the two countries. If it's raining in Vancouver, BC, it is probably doing so in Seattle and Portland, and the entire West Coastal zone shares floral commonality with the over-story of “Douglas fir,” Pseudotsuga menziesii and the “Big-Leaf maple,” Acer macrophyllum, as well as a plethora of understory brush such as the “Snowberry,” Symphoricarpos albus and the “Pacific Sword fern,” Polystichum munitum.

Picea omorika

The first time I entered Vancouver by car I noticed a preponderance of Picea omorika (“Serbian spruce”) used in landscapes, where you seldom find it used in Oregon and Washington. And why not? – the spruce adapts well in the Northwest; the medium-sized conifer is narrow with drooping branches which turn upward at the tips, and in that regard it reminds me of Tsuga mertensiana, as both species resemble a ballerina (see Buchholz Plant Introductions (Part 18)). Picea omorika grows well at the Flora Wonder Arboretum, and we have a dozen-or-so cultivars as proof, but it's odd that American landscapes are sparse with the straight species, while the Canadians better recognize its virtues eh? The generic name Picea is derived from Latin pix in reference to its “pitchy” bark while the specific epithet omorika is the Serbian name for “spruce.”

Picea omorika 'Blue Sky'

Picea omorika 'Blue Sky'

In the mid 1980's I was visiting Green Thumb Nursery located at the southeast end of Vancouver Island, just outside of the pleasant town of Nanaimo. The owner passed away long ago but the nursery continues and I would love to check it out again. The purpose of my initial trip was to buy stock plants of conifers to add to my fledgling nursery, and the German owner took a liking to me, no doubt due to our shared Teutonic origin and he allowed me free reign to his plants. I bought ten Picea omorika which I could flag myself, and I chose one that was more blue than the others. It looked to be accurate as a Picea omorika, but I wondered if the owner would allow me to take the one blue tree. He said nothing so I loaded it up and sped to the agriculture inspection station, proud that I was able to cream the crop. Later, when I began propagating from the blue seedling I named it 'Blue Sky'. One problem with the species, however, is that when you propagate by using vigorous Picea abies rootstock, the tree does not begin with a slender habit, not nearly as skinny as it will eventually look. That makes potential customers nervous that it is not suitable for smaller landscapes. Still I think 'Blue Sky' is attractive and useful, but I confess that sales were never strong.

Sciadopitys verticillata 'Mr. Happy'

Sciadopitys verticillata 'Mr. Happy'

Sciadopitys verticillata 'Mr. Happy'

At the beginning of my career we grew Sciadopitys from seed, and though it was a long, tedious project with overwatering a constant concern, in 5-6 years we could achieve a small one-gallon pot. One of the seedlings produced yellow variegated needles, sometimes solid – not good due to sun scorch – but it was best when the foliage was half-and-half. I named the treasure 'Mr. Happy' and grafts were first sold in about 1998. I have a love/hate relationship with “Umbrella pine”: I love that they're an easy sell, but I hate that in our greenhouse environment with overhead irrigation, water can remain for days in the cup of the needle-whorl and rot the growth bud. Another problem was that the older 'Mr. Happy' could revert to green, all or in significant part, and ten years later you had a tree that was barely 'Mr. Happy'. I finally threw in the towel, and though a couple of trees are still at the nursery, we discontinued propagation about 6 or 7 years ago.

Sciadopitys verticillata 'Fatso'

Sciadopitys verticillata 'Fatso'

Another Sciadopitys seedling from a later batch was remarkably slow-growing, and the photo of it in a cedar box (above) drew a lot of attention from customers when it was 12-15 years old. We tried for a few years to propagate via rooted-cutting in winter, but our percentages were poor at 20% or less. I tired of these results so we began to graft it instead, and that's when I christened it 'Fatso'. I learned to my dismay that a grafted 'Fatso' wasn't so slow and dwarf after all, for it grew like the type. We discontinued production about 12 years ago and sold all of our crops; the original seedling was planted into the Display Garden, and at this time it appears as any normal Sciadopitys seedling. The “introduction” was a mistake in hindsight, and now I fear for the original as it was planted close to the office, but under a power line, and every couple of years we'll have to top it.

Pinus thunbergii 'Buki Broom'

Pinus thunbergii 'Buki Broom'

Buchholz Nursery has produced a fair number of Pinus thunbergii 'Kotobuki', and the cultivar is easily propagated by grafting onto “Scot's pine,” Pinus sylvestris. The cultivar name is Japanese for “celebration,” and according to the RHS Encyclopedia of Conifers “it originated in Japan before 1976.” About 2018 I noticed that one of our six-foot narrow stock trees developed a congested mutation at its top. I decided to propagate from the mutation/broom – whatever it was – and I labelled it 'Buki Broom' to keep track of its heritage. I have given away a couple of the grafts so it has been by definition “introduced,” but since the propagules are only about basketball size, in a greenhouse, I don't know yet what its future will be as a worthy landscape plant. The world doesn't need another green, ordinary pine-ball, that's for sure.

Pinus mugo 'Mini Mini'

Pinus mugo 'Mini Mini'

Another pine introduction is Pinus mugo 'Mini Mini' which resulted as a witch's broom mutation on the already-slow Pinus mugo 'Mops'. Its diminutive shoots are usually less than a half-inch long, and you work hard to find straight stems of two or three-year-old wood to graft. 'Mini Mini' was first sold in about 1998, and my oldest tree from that crop is a squat, impenetrable globe about 24”(61 cm) wide. A cute plant for sure, but no profit for the nurseryman. However, any plants person intrigued with its continuation need only to ask for scionwood.

Pseudotsuga menziesii 'Green Barrel'

Pseudotsuga menziesii 'Green Barrel'

Pseudotsuga menziesii 'Green Barrel' originated as a witch's broom and when it was gifted to me at a small size I can't say that I was overjoyed. Yet another green blob in the garden. But as it increased in size I grew to like it, especially the perky brown buds that poke out from the light green needles. We sold grafts of it for a couple of years in about 2012 but it is no longer in production. 'Green Barrel' grows fine in our USDA zone 7, but since it originated in our relatively benign Willamette Valley climate, it is doubtfully hardy in more harsh areas.

Cedrus deodara 'Vaneta'

Cedrus deodara 'Vaneta' is a prostrate dwarf that also originated as a witch's broom mutation. Scionwood was given to me by a friend of Vaneta who (the friend) went by the name of “Shorty.” Since Vaneta found the broom, if I have the story straight, I gave it her name in honor although I never met the woman. Sadly 'Vaneta' is of weak constitution – the cedar not the lady – and our original start fried and died in our 116 F heat dome of June 28, 2021. Mr. Shorty was indeed short, but he was sharp and snappy as a retired owner of a successful retail garden center, and he was a genuine lover of plants. With his horticultural background I was surprised that he referred to the “witch's broom” as a “witch's brood,” and he did so at least three times while he was describing it. Who knows, maybe brood/broom are synonyms?

Sequoiadendron giganteum 'Shorty's Blue'

Sequioadendron giganteum 'Shorty's Blue'

Sequoiadendron giganteum 'Lacy Blue'

Sequoiadendron giganteum 'Lacy Blue'

Sequoiadendron giganteum 'Exceptionally Blue'

Sequoiadendron giganteum 'Exceptionally Blue'

Mr. Shorty was greatly impressed with “Giant redwoods,” and he housed a collection of blue seedlings on various properties, or at least he knew where the bluest could be found. He knew that I too admired all cultivars of Sequoiadendron giganteum, and I appreciated that he was generous with the scionwood. Eventually three of Shorty's findlings were named and propagated: 'Shorty's Blue', 'Lacy Blue' and 'Exceptionally Blue'. All three specimens stoutly thrive in our Conifer Field where they display the same degree of blueness more or less. Yes, 'Lacy Blue' features foliage more fine than the others. 'Shorty's Blue' is not short, it's as tall as the others. Mr. Shorty's favorite was named by me as 'Exceptionally Blue' because he constantly referred to it as such, and he did so with great enthusiasm. As far as the degree of blueness is concerned, all seedlings can genetically vary of course, but I suppose that different soils and moistures and other cultural factors can also influence the color. That might explain why Shorty's favorite blue, 'Exceptionally Blue', looks about the same as the others, at least in my one field, while it might be more vibrant elsewhere.

Sequoiadendron giganteum 'John Muir'

Sequoiadendron giganteum 'John Muir'

The last introduction that I'll discuss in this blog is Sequoiadendron giganteum 'John Muir', in fact it is the last in this entire Buchholz Plant Introduction series. I copy partially from my June 21, 2019 blog, Half-Baked Spud:

The woods lining the Boise River gave French-Canadian trappers solace after they trudged across arid lands. They named the area Boise meaning “wooded” and today it is known as “The City of Trees.” The developed parks, paths and green spaces are as impressive as in any city in America.

My purpose in Boise was to see the state's largest “Giant redwood,” Sequoiadendron giganteum, which was recently moved two blocks away due to a hospital expansion plan. A year ago when I heard about the move I instantly criticized that the hospital should expand elsewhere since it was a seedling given in 1912 by Scottish naturalist John Muir, the founder of the Sierra Club. It would have been cheaper to cut the tree down but the hospital feared a public outcry, so a Texas-based company that specialized in moving big trees was enlisted; this would be their largest move ever, but for $300,000 they were happy to take on the project. A company spokesman estimated the total weight with roots and soil to be 800,000 pounds, nevertheless he put the chances of the tree's survival at 95%. I would have guessed closer to 50%, but I'm not the expert. He explained that “Sequoias in their native habitat in California draw moisture from the misty atmosphere and can live for several thousand years...” Obviously his assertion was flawed because he was talking about the “Coast redwoods,” Sequoia sempervirens, not the “Giant redwoods” from the western slopes of the Sierras. But...he was the expert.

To everyone's relief (including mine) the tree has survived. It will never grow as large in the drier, colder climate of Boise than those in my hometown of Forest Grove, Oregon, but when my daughter drove me to the site I had to tip my hat to the tree-movers. Its unusual top was due to damage from Christmas decorations in the 1980s, tree abuse certainly. A wood fence surrounds the redwood to keep people from trampling at its base, but when no one was looking I collected a few cones and hope to germinate the seed. If successful I'll have an indirect connection to Muir who packed the seedlings* himself; of course I like that thought, and I will coin its name Sequoiadendron giganteum 'John Muir'.

*Four seedlings were given to Emile Grandjean, an employee of the US Forest Service, but two were cut down and the third's demise is unaccounted for. So, the “moved tree” has added historical significance.

I continued with the saga of the Muir redwood in January 29, 2021:

John Muir

Regular Flora Wonder Blog readers might remember that I posted a blog a few years ago about a “Giant redwood,” a Sequoiadendron giganteum seedling that was gifted to the city forester of Boise, Idaho over 100 years ago by the remarkable John Muir. The historic tree was to undergo a transplant to a different city property to make way for a hospital expansion. I was 100% opposed to the project, concluding that the hospital could certainly expand elsewhere; and above all: save, protect and cherish the historic tree. Of course nobody listened to me and the tree was moved...and thank God it survived the ordeal. My eldest daughter works for the city of Boise in their parks and recreation department. Sonya led me to the redwood and I pocketed a few cones and we germinated a number of seedlings...which I have named 'EX* John Muir'. These saplings I will donate to anyone who cares, and I hope that the City of Boise would want to be one recipient. Plant it near to the mother tree with a plaque that tells its story, wouldn't that be wonderful!

*Note that 'EX John Muir' denotes a seedling offspring of the tree, which by botanical definition can never be the same as the mother tree, just as my wife's children will always be somewhat different than Mama herself. One 'EX John Muir' seedling has been given to Paul Warnick at the University of Idaho Arboretum in Moscow, Idaho, so from that point of view it has been “introduced,” and I still await anyone else who cares to plant one.

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Epilogue

I was very fortunate that I could fashion a career out of horticulture, and despite the hard work and constant worry I was able to introduce a couple hundred cultivars into American landscapes. Well, they are also being grown in Europe and Japan. None of it would have been possible without the generosity and support of other plants people, the dedicated efforts of many employees, and most important, the encouragement of my wife Haruko. The Flora Wonder Arboretum of Buchholz Nursery is like no other place on earth, and we have enthusiastically grown plants from all seven continents. I have always endeavored to make the collection fun and interesting, and above all, educational with correct nomenclature, all in addition to feeding many families.

Patrick Franklin (left) and Robert Bartlett (right) of Bartlett Tree Experts

Haruko and Talon with Tim, Matt and Aimee Nichols of MrMaple

In the past year or two I have sold and handed-off ownership of my two properties: Flora Farm went to the internationally famous Bartlett Tree Experts, and the Buchholz Nursery was acquired by the equally accomplished MrMaple Company of North Carolina. The sale to the new owners allows me to further my journey, my calling to study and appreciate plants...without the attachments. I look forward to getting closer to my muse, Flora.

Buchholz Plant Introductions (Part 19)

Buchholz plant introductions include a fair number of Acer shirasawanum cultivars that are likely not the pure species, rather probable hybrids with Acer palmatum. All arose from A. shirasawanum mother trees and their seed rises above the foliage per the species, but still most “look” to be a mixture. The seedling offspring can vary greatly from dwarf green and orange laceleafs such as 'Green Snowflake' and 'Kawaii' to robust uprights such as 'Sensu' and 'Johin' which were discussed in Buchholz Plant Introductions (Part10).

Acer shirasawanum

Acer shirasawanum

Acer shirasawanum

Homi Shirasawa

The Japanese species A. shirasawanum honors the botanist Homi Shirasawa (1868-1947) who worked alongside Tomitaro Makino, the “Father of Japanese Botany.” Commonly known as the “Full-Moon maple” it occurs from central and southern Honshu to the southeast island of Shikoku, then further south to Kyushu. It is classified in the Section Palmata, and is compatible if grafted onto the rootstock of other species such as A. palmatum, A. japonicum, A. sieboldianum, the American species A. circinatum and others, so it is not surprising that it readily hybridizes with A. palmatum, or at least it does so in my open-garden setting. Most nurserymen consider A. shirasawanum to be a full zone more winter hardy than its A. palmatum cousin, even when the latter is used as rootstock, and the species is most noteworthy for its brilliant autumn colors of yellow, red and purple. The downside is that it is more awkward in its growth habit than A. palmatum, where well-balanced canopies are attainable (at Buchholz Nursery) with heavy pruning. Eventually we achieve stout bushes which later form dense, short trees, but that takes a year or two longer than with Acer palmatum. My hybrids – or supposed hybrids – are my favorite among almost all of the other maple cultivars, and it will be fun to observe what might germinate from the thousands of seeds which we collected this past fall.

Acer shirasawanum 'Bronze Age'

Acer shirasawanum 'Bronze Age'

Acer shirasawanum 'Bronze Age' was germinated in about 2002, then named, propagated and sold a decade later. The leaf shape reminds me of Acer palmatum 'Trompenburg' with a down-turned leaf lobe, but the color is more brownish-red. Last spring my wife Haruko declared it to be her favorite maple cultivar, and she could spot it in the propagation house with a couple hundred other varieties without looking at the label. I favor it as well, especially since it is relatively fast-growing with a balanced, full canopy. The original seedling is no longer at the nursery, and sadly I don't have a record of who we sold it to. I didn't keep track of it – and many others – because I didn't anticipate the day that I would reminisce about our introductions. I do have a record of all of our 'Bronze Age' sales, but nothing tells me which was the original tree.

Acer shirasawanum 'Plum Wine'

Acer shirasawanum 'Plum Wine'

Acer shirasawanum 'Plum Wine'

Acer shirasawanums 'Plum Wine' and 'Purple Velvet' were selected at the same time (2004) from the mother tree of Acer shirasawanum 'Shira Red', where the mama herself is a possible hybrid with Acer palmatum. There was no need to “introduce” both because, without their labels, they are indistinguishable. My plan was to eventually determine which was “better” and discontinue the inferior, but they're never next to each other because I know we would mix them up. Yes, I can see the future.

Acer shirasawanum 'Purple Velvet'

Acer shirasawanum 'Purple Velvet'

In any case, both A.s. 'Plum Wine' and 'Purple Velvet' appear to be more fully of the A. shirasawanum species, even moreso than their parent, and I'd give anything to know who was the pollinating tree. My youngest daughter looks more Asian, more like her mother than me while her sister doesn't look Asian at all. Thank God neither girl looks like the mailman. Appearances aside, I wonder if a hybrid germinant can be more of one parent than the other, or if by botanical definition it must be 50/50. Perhaps a bonafide botanist can set me straight on that question.

Acer shirasawanum 'Mr. Sun'

Acer shirasawanum 'Mr. Sun'

Acer shirasawanum 'Mr. Sun' was germinated sometime in the 1990s, then formally introduced in about 2004. Oddly the seedling itself arose from a group of purchased Acer palmatum rootstocks, so there was clearly some funny business going on at that nursery. I set it aside because it looked different, not that I found it particularly attractive, but eventually I grew to admire its appearance, especially the deep red fall color. The leaves of the spring photo above gave rise to the cultivar's name, for they resemble a child's drawing of Mr. Sun himself. The original tree was sold years ago, another of my many regrets, and unfortunately I can't remember who bought it. The reader might wonder about my history of selling out my introductions; the explanation is money, duh.

Acer shirasawanum 'Royalty'

Acer shirasawanum 'Royalty'

Acer shirasawanum 'Royalty'

The seedling that became 'Royalty' is of unknown parentage, and even though its leaves look totally palmatum, I decided to classify it as an Acer shirasawanum because the seed consistently rises above the foliage. How do I know though, maybe a 100% A. palmatum – a species with great variability – might occasionally produce a tree with unusual seed placement? After all, my favorite mother tree is Acer palmatum 'Amber Ghost' and its offspring are sometimes red and green dwarf laceleafs. Maybe that's more weird than seed above the leaves. The 'Royalty' name was chosen because the foliage is deep red-purple and reminded me of a king's robe. I concede that it will never outsell the very popular A.p. 'Bloodgood', but on the other hand I've never been unable to sell my crops. I wonder what my company's limit would be.

Haruko at Kokyo Gate

The Mikado

Speaking of “royalty”, the word mikado is Japanese for mi (“honorable”) and kado (“gate”), the gate of the imperial palace where the emperor traditionally held audiences. That etymology is derived from certain written characters, while another set of characters denotes the word “emperor.” And thanks to Mrs. Buchholz for that clarification. Of course the English know of The Mikado as the comic opera by Gilbert and Sullivan which opened on March 14, 1885 at the Savoy Theatre, an instant hit that ran for 672 performances.

Acer shirasawanum 'Mikado'

Acer shirasawanum 'Mikado'

I wasn't honoring an opera, of course, when I named Acer shirasawanum 'Mikado' in about 2010, and at that time my wife said the “good” name meant “prince.” I would not have chosen the 'Mikado' name, for she now says it means “emperor,” because we previously have the cultivar 'Emperor' ('Emperor One', syn. 'Red Emperor'). Haruko shrugs and offers that prince and emperor are the same, to which I countered that Prince Charles and King Charles are not the same. My wife is an agreeable, easy woman to get along with, but this time she waved me off and had no interest to kowtow to my point of view, especially when it comes to Japanese word meanings. The Japanese have a saying that “the husband is the boss of the house.....if the wife allows.” Anyway, A.s. 'Mikado' is very different from the 'Emperor' maple, in that the former's foliage is a cherry plum-red. Maybe I'm just bored with the 'Bloodgood', 'Red Emperor'-types because I have produced over a quarter million of them in my career, while I certainly understand why they're so commercially popular.

Acer shirasawanum 'Haru iro'

Acer shirasawanum 'Haru iro'

Acer shirasawanum 'Haru iro'

Acer shirasawanum 'Haru iro' might not be a hybrid with Acer palmatum. I remember nothing about its origin; absolutely nothing, like it spontaneously generated itself at my nursery when I wasn't there. I do remember asking my wife to name it (about 2010 when it was 8-10 years old) because she admired the foliage. Haru means “spring” in Japanese, and iro means “color,” and we were both impressed with the tree one May evening. That naming occurred B.C. (Before Children) when we leisurely strolled the nursery grounds, when all of our attention was focused on each other and on our wonderful plants. In hindsight, those blissful days pale in comparison with the joy we experience with our two daughters...albeit with considerably less drama.

Acer shirasawanum 'Little Fella'

Acer shirasawanum 'Little Fella'

Acer shirasawanum 'Little Fella' is a slow-growing tree with a broad canopy. Even when grafted on vigorous green rootstock it is still a wimp that does not produce good scionwood, therefore it remains rare in the trade. The 'Little Fella' is cute though, and doesn't take much space in the garden. I think it is best grown in a container, and in Oregon at least it is happiest if given afternoon shade; but with too much shade the foliage becomes greenish. Naturally the avid maple collector will seek out 'Little Fella' anyway, and if a grower is successful with it I'd like to know the secret. It was named and first propagated in about 2010, but I don't recall what was the mother tree.

Acer palmatum 'Zig Zag'

Acer palmatum 'Zig Zag'

Acer palmatum 'Zig Zag'

I'll mention five more introductions – that are all clearly of the Acer palmatum species – and that will conclude our Acer contributions to horticulture...for now. Acer palmatum 'Zig Zag' is a low, dense green laceleaf with unknown parentage. It must have been from an upright bush or tree as I never sow seed from laceleafs. It was introduced in about 2010 and a small number were sold, but it is no longer in our propagation plans because I think there are superior clones such as A.p. 'Spring Delight'.

Acer palmatum 'Right Fred'

Acer palmatum 'Right Fred'

Acer palmatum 'Right Fred' originated as a seedling from one of the “Ghosts,” probably 'Amber Ghost' but I'm not certain. It features purple-red leaves with prominent black veins and it looks great in spring, however by July and a few 95-105 F days it fades to a blah-red, and doesn't then compare favorably with our other “Ghost-like” introductions. First sold in about 2014.

Acer palmatum 'Jet Black'

Acer palmatum 'Jet Black'

Acer palmatum 'Jet Black' faces the same challenges as A.p. 'Right Fred' in the summer heat. Its glossy black leaves are brilliant in early spring however. The term “jet black” usually refers to a person's hair, often a black woman with straight black hair that shines in the light. Unfortunately the maple introduction will not be so black if grown in the shade, and if placed in full sun the color will grow dull by July. We don't grow many.

Acer palmatum 'Red Whisper'

Acer palmatum 'Red Whisper'

Acer palmatum 'Red Whisper' germinated from seed off of our largest A.p. 'Fairy Hair' in about 2014, and I had high hopes for it because of thin reddish lobes and bud sheaths. It's no secret that I was seeking a red version of 'Fairy Hair', and so far 'Red Whisper' was as close as I got. Sadly it was a feeble attempt when the original seedling perished in our 116 F scorcher of mid-June, 2021, so it can be summed up as a wishful “introduction” that never actually got introduced.

Acer palmatum 'Climate Change'

Finally there's Acer palmatum 'Climate Change', a seedling from our 'Rising Stars' category of maples that originate from a mixture of named cultivars. If the mother tree is attractive, I reason, then it's a good chance her offspring will at least be interesting. 'Climate Change' was never beautiful in my opinion, rather it's a spreading bush with green leaves that are slightly contorted. Frankly it looks like something unfortunate happened to it, and since “climate change” is the new buzz-blame for everything that goes wrong, I tagged the unusual selection as such (in about 2015).

Acer palmatum

Acer palmatum

Acer palmatum

Acer palmatum

I have discussed 117 Acer cultivars in the Buchholz Plant Introduction blogs (Parts 1-19). I would categorize them into three (about equal) groups: 1) great and wonderful, 2) fair-to-good and 3) I probably got carried away and shouldn't have bothered. I don't apologize for the third group, or anything else, because beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I've known certain plantsmen who absolutely gush over some of my plants that I dismiss as so-so at best. I've repeated repeated many times to “Let the Market Decide.”