Garden Rant

The Triumph of the Commons

Whether you are in full holiday-spirit mode or merely grumbling about the shopping requirement, here is a bit of inspiration for a Friday morning: Bill Murphy, one of the most charismatic and interesting people I went to high school with.  Thanks to the magic of Facebook, I've learned that he is also a visionary gardener.

Fourteen years ago, he decided to save the Corwin Street Community Garden in San Francisco's Eureka Valley out of the irritated sense that an opportunity was being wasted. I spoke with Bill recently, and he once again reminded me how powerful a single man with a pair of sharp Felcos can be.  

Tell me about the garden and how you got involved.

The garden is on the southern slope of Eureka Valley.  In the center of a city block is a half- acre open space that was protected from development in the 1970s.

Thirty years ago, part of it became the Seward St. Mini-Park, which has polished concrete slides so steep, you catch air when you go down.  Crowds of people come to use the slides and wake up the neighborhood at all hours. Nearby, at the end of our street, is a larger, wilder open space known as Kite Hill…..it’s got unimpeded views and rocky outcrops and is a favored spot for off-leash dog exercise.

The rest of the hillside was never developed.  It was probably originally pastureland.  The soil was never cultivated, but it did become invaded by noxious weeds, particularly wild fennel 8 to 10 feet tall.  

By August every year, the end of our dry season, the fennel was a serious fire hazard. So, even though nobody was taking care of it, this was not a low maintenance space. Every year, the city had to mow noxious, persistent, obdurate weeds with huge taproots.  

Sixteen years ago, a group of people decided they could do better and petitioned the city to designate the land as a community garden.  It's not your typical community garden.  The pitch is exceedingly steep.  Even if you don't have a wide stance, stand parallel to the slope and one foot will be substantially downhill of the other.  So the spot does not lend itself to individual plots for vegetables. The consensus was, a native plant garden.

Fabric mulch was put down to control the weeds, and little plants installed.  Two years later, the plants were getting a foothold, but the noxious weeds had not been eradicated. The fennel was coming up through the seams in the mulch. And everybody who had been involved in that 1995 planting had moved away or lost interest.  

My apartment overlooks the garden, and suddenly nobody was doing anything. There were so many naysayers, too, about the little plants...some of which are now 30-foot tall buckeyes. 

I didn't have to consult with anybody.  I understood that at this juncture, either this land had to be worked, or it would go back to weeds.

So you started to put some time in there.

I estimate that I put 5000 hours into this garden over the last 14 years.  That's two full years of unpaid labor.  That's why I am now passing on the gauntlet and allowing other people to take over.

Had you gardened before?  How did you know what to do?

In the early 1980s, I lived in a rural gay community in Massachusetts called Butterworth Farm.  While I was there, I did extensive vegetable and flower gardening and some woodlot management.  I also studied the natural sciences in college - botany, wetland ecology, plant geography, geology, soil science etc.

Had I ever worked with these plants before, California natives? 

No.  But they taught me what they needed over time.

What did they need?

First, to have the weeds eliminated.  The garden has clay soil that in the dry season is like cement.  But in the wet season, if you dig 2 feet into the soil with the right tools, you can pop the fennel bulb out.  I hand-picked lots of other weeds, too.

Second, continuous loads of wood chip mulch, the only soil amendment we've ever used there.  By now, there is an accumulated decomposed layer 6 to 8 inches deep over the fabric mulch—which was necessary initially to eradicate weeds.  Because we had to cut through the fabric to plant, there has been some blending of the soil horizons.  We've planted thousands of plants over the last 14 years, trees, tall shrubs, low-growing shrubs, grasses, perennials, and some bulbs. We have almost 100% plant coverage now.

Third, lots of pruning.  You're never going to achieve buckeye trees with an open crown without pruning.  I call this a "habitat garden"—not wild land, not a formal garden, but very consciously sculpted to be inviting to wildlife and people.  

What do these plants not need?

Not one drop of supplemental water.  We used plants adapted to the San Francisco climate, which includes yearly droughts during our dry season and periodic droughts in wet season.  Nonetheless, you can't believe the lushness out my window, yuccas 15 feet tall, buckeyes 30 feet tall.

And they don't need chemicals.  We don’t have an outbreak of aphids, because the bush-tits twitter into the garden, delighted to eat them.  Out my window, I've observed 40 different species of birds in the garden, including five species of hawks, and two species of owls.

If you create an ecology in a garden, you don't need chemicals.  It's a system, and it inevitably includes creatures that benefit each other.

Those evil vines

Here's last week's Kirkus post. And be sure to read Susan's post today about the art of gardening.

I had been meaning to write about Allan Armitage's vines and climbers book for some time. In my small garden, sometimes the only way to go is up, so I've been a big vine fan for some time. But some of the vines I depend on are anathema to other gardeners.

Allan Armitage has a sensible attitude about aggressive climbers. It’s much like mine. If a given vine is a thug on your property, rampaging over other plants, clambering up trees, and smothering any trellis that you’ve put up to contain it, then don’t grow it. But don’t try to make it impossible for anyone else in this big and diverse country to grow it.

Like many hyper-local endeavors, gardening does not readily adapt itself to one-size-fits-all advisories, and nowhere is that more apparent than in the area of vigorous plants. Ficus, a rowdy tree that uproots California sidewalks, has to get along as a houseplant in Vermont.  Colocasia (elephant ear) is invading wetlands in Texas and Florida, but in the Northeast its bulbs are carefully overwintered so the huge exotic leaves can adorn summer patios.

This is why I love Armitage’s Vines and Climbers (Timber, 2010). As a Georgia-based plant breeder, lecturer, and garden writer, Armitage could easily have left out such cultivars as wisteria, hedera (ivy), and ampelopsis (porcelain vine), plants that gardeners throughout the U.S. consider—at the very least—overly enthusiastic.

Indeed, many Southern gardeners I know would never allow a wisteria vine on their property, regardless of its graceful and beautifully scented lavender flowers. Things are different in Buffalo, N.Y. Summer visitors to my garden gaze up at my wisteria and ask wistfully “Has it bloomed yet?” The plants are notorious for their refusal to bloom until as many as ten seasons have passed, but they are cherished when they do flower. Even in Buffalo, the vine needs to be cut back regularly, and often works best when trained to a tree-shaped form, placed well away from any structures it might overwhelm.

While wisteria has its flowers to recommend it, hedera (ivy) has no such pleasing camouflage, and has to depend on its elegant foliage. You don’t see many defenders of ivy. Yet, where I live, I can point to situations—deep shade, a tree-root-choked soil—where hedera is the only groundcover that can survive. This year I plan to experiment with some unusual variegated ivies to see if they can get through a Buffalo winter; their ruffles, white, light green or silver markings, and other unusual features would make a welcome change from faltering grass, boring pachysandra, or bare dirt. Hedera is banned in the Pacific Northwest, and loathed in most of the warmer states, but in the colder zones, it still serves a welcome purpose. Allan Armitage readily admits hedera’s powerfully aggressive properties, but when discussing his experience with planting ivy, he takes a philosophic view far removed from the hysteria I usually see whenever ivy is discussed: “I can moan about how I had to rip the plants from the trees. I can complain about the need to keep the edges of the path trimmed every year and mutter about keeping it off the azaleas and rhodies. However, that is part of gardening and for me the net positive aspects of the planting were far greater than the negative.”

Even the tolerant Armitage finds it necessary to warn his readers about ampelopsis brevipedunculata (porcelain vine)—“I recommend talking to other gardeners or extension people in your area before growing it. We don’t need another kudzu.” —even as he praises it—“walking under these rampant leafy growers in the summer is a thrill.” It’s a big mystery to me. I have grown the green and white “Elegans” cultivar of this plant for a few years and have yet to get it to the stage where anyone taller than a small dog would be able to walk under it.

Whether you prefer to say it in Latin (de gustibus non est disputandum) or in the contemporary vernacular (your mileage may vary), assume that every gardener’s experience with a certain plant will be different. This recognition is what I most appreciate about Armitage’s survey, which includes over 115 plants, many with utterly unsullied reputations. The world of vertical plants is full of beauty—and some danger.  But it would have been a boring book had he left the danger out.

Dr. A shakes his groove thing

A few months back we announced that our friend, horticulturalist Allan Armitage was participating in an Athens, Georgia charity version of Dancing with the Stars. Well, he did us proud. He was the 3rd largest vote getter, raising over 6k for Project Safe, which combats domestic violence.

Follow the link above to find out more. And check his moves out here:

Allan Armitage—as you've never seen him before

 

No, our friend, writer/grower/horticulturalist extraordinaire Allan Armitage has not lost his mind. He doesn't even have Night Fever.  Rather, Allan is putting himself out there to support an important cause. See his note, below. On a non-dancing note, I am very excited about a recent introduction of Allan’s: the “Athens Yellow” climbing dicentra. It climbs? And it’s yellow? That’s enough to make me feel like dancing! Maybe not the The Hustle, though.

 To My Friends in Horticulture:

I know this is hard to believe, but I have been asked to participate in the Athens-area chapter of Dancing With the Stars—as a star! I would not have agreed to make a fool of myself, except that it is a major fundraiser for Project Safe, a terrific organization working to end abuse against women. The world is a tough place for many, and having a support group like this makes a huge positive difference. For those of you not familiar with Project Safe, read more here.  Recently this organization has experienced an unprecedented rise in demand for its services. More than ever it relies on  local community events like Dancing with Athens Stars to provide financial support.

I am practicing hard for the “Audience Favorite Award” which is given to the couple who receives the most votes, both during the show and in the months leading up to it. I will keep everyone involved as the dance date, Mar 21, approaches. 

So I am asking for your votes, not for me but for Project Safe.  You can laugh at me while giving.  Here’s how it works:

Each vote is $1 donated to Project Safe, and voting early and often is definitely encouraged!  You can vote in several ways. Voting through the website is probably easiest. Go to the site and click on the Dancing with Athens Stars button. You'll see my name and my beautiful and talented partner Liza Pitts [shown with Allan, above] as couple #9.

By the way, I will be doing The Hustle.  I never heard of The Hustle, but there you go. I will keep you up to date here and on my site.

—Allan Armitage

BTW, here's the dicentra:

It's not as pretty as Allan, but close! 

Keep Off! Don't Touch!

I'm here in New Jersey with my family for Thanksgiving.  I'm grateful for the family part.  New Jersey, less so. 

I've been unhappy with the state of yard-dom in the Garden State since I was five.  If I were queen, I'd be beneficent. I wouldn't ban red mulch or weeping Atlas cedars.  I'd just introduce the idea of utility--that yards are not petting zoos for spruces, nor passive sponges for weed-and-feed, but places that actual humans should enjoy.

The above, for example, is a bit of landscaping in the small development where my mother lives.  This island of sod used to be completely open...the one place where the few kids who live here could play tag or whiffle ball. The problem was, kids were actually running on the grass. The answer?  Put impenetrable obstacles in their way in the form of a lot of weird island beds.  Never mind that half the shrubbery now appears to be dead from over-watering and over-fertilizing.  Never mind that as the forest trees grow, they are going to shade out the grass and look very forbidding indeed. It's better than having kids run on the lawn.  I look forward to mushrooming here some day very soon.

Another form of utility not well understood in Bergen County, New Jersey is designing the front lawn so people can actually walk up to your door.

Since I find this house beautiful in a very Disney-like way, I am particularly puzzled by the haphazardness of the landscaping here:

Below is another house that only squirrels understand how to approach.  In fact, the shrubbery looks positively ashamed of the human life inside.

 

Think how nice that sunny yard might look if there were a white picket fence and a vegetable garden instead.

Below is New Jersey as I know it: a rock, a badly-pruned juniper, and dyed mulch.  Why not something of some use to somebody?  A ring of Brussels sprouts or currants?  A few perennials for the flowers?

And, can someone explain the theory behind the island bed to me, please, before I go mad?  Here is what all island beds look like, given time:

Given a complete absence of human interest in, or understanding of, or sense of collaboration with nature, another species enters the vacuum and brutally dominates the scene.

Here comes the judge: Dr. A hits the road and issues a challenge

Here's a brief travel report and a challenge from our itinerant guest ranter Allan Armitage.—Eliz.

I've been in California, viewing the pack trials up and down the West coast. This is the time where most of the world's plant breeders show off their new herbaceous plants (mostly annuals, some perennials) for the growers and buyers to view. Breeders from America (Ball, Pan American), Europe (Benary, Syngenta, Dumen) and Japan (Sakata, Takii)—to name but a few—show off their wares. I'll let you know if I see anything exciting.

I am often asked what my choices would be for the best plants that have come on the market for gardeners in the last while, and have presented a number of talks about recent “breakthrough” plants—in fact I'm making my own list of the greatest 10 plants (annuals and perennials) introduced over the last 10 years. (For example, it would likely include the Geranium 'Rozanne.')

However, perhaps you can help me compile a list that is more reflective of what real gardeners are growing than the one I have. If you would like to participate, pick 5 plants that you feel have been breakthroughs (i.e., plants that made the genus better due to subsequent selection, plants you would recommend to your friend who kills everything, or plants you absolutely must have, and if they die, you would replace them with the same plants). This must be done in the next few days to be compiled into a list I will call “The Garden Rant's Greatest” and if there is some consensus, I will talk about the list when I am speaking in your neck of the woods. Remember, annuals and perennials only, and if a perennial, provide your USDA Zone. Five plants only—this should be interesting!

And here's a video from the Greenhouse Grower TV of Dr. A talking about the California Pack Trials and his impressions (screenshot at top).

Please leave your list of your 5 breakthrough plants for Dr. A in comments.Thanks!

Want to get into trouble? Bring up native plants!

By contributing Ranter Allan Armitage

I work with the ornamental plant industry. These are the people who produce petunias, astilbes, impatiens and mums. These people live and die by new plants, especially new cultivars. I am also a gardener and serious advocate for the consumer, especially the not-as-serious-as-we-are gardeners, like my daughters. The issue of native plants is often discussed in the trade, with retailers and producers wondering how they can be part of the “native plant movement.” Here is a column I wrote in a national trade journal (Greenhouse Grower) aimed at the industry. It’s a quick overview of what might lie in store. (Please realize that this is totally different than how I speak to native plant enthusiasts. Perhaps that discourse can wait for another rant.)

Just a few weeks ago, I suggested we all need to seriously consider the issue of native plants. I mentioned we should be telling people that many of the plants we already grow are American natives, and that at least a Native Plant heading should appear on availability lists. I said the same for landscapers: let your clients know you are using native plants in your design—the desire to use natives is no longer a fad.

The movements of ecological awareness, of gardening as a lifestyle—not an activity, and the need to make gardening more of a feel-good experience are washing over us. A subset of these feel-good experiences is the desire to include more native plants in American landscapes and gardens. Great performing plants and native plants are not at all exclusive.

Galliarda gallo bicolor, a Kieft introduction

So having said “Grow natives!” why would I suggest that you can get into trouble if you do? It comes down to peoples’ very different definitions of a native plant. There are often two big questions when a fight breaks out about native plants.

The first that always rears its head is “What do you mean by native?” Native to your county, your state, your region, or your country? Native when Columbus sailed the ocean blue or when Erik the Red discovered Greenland in 986? Believe it or not, for many people, this is passionate stuff, and falls into the realm of politics and religion. For me, when I talk about natives, I define them as those plants that were on the North American mainland before the Europeans arrived. That’s my story and I am sticking to it. As for you, find a definition you are comfortable with and do the same.

Echinacea "Kim's Knee-High," a Niche Gardens introduction

The second question can be equally inflammatory. “Is a cultivar between two native species still a native?” If you believe what I just wrote, I suppose the answer is no. Certainly, it is no to those who work in woodland or coastline reclamation; it will also be no to those who want to plant native meadows or maintain purity of species. That is fine; there are many plants to choose from. However what about my daughters, my design students, people in my audiences, and my friends who want to use natives but need better garden performance than a species can provide? If we as an industry are ever going to get native plants out of the closet and into the mainstream, then we have take advantage of the new breeding and selection in foam flowers, cone flowers and tickseeds. The promotion of cultivars is the only way we can help fill the desire to include native plants.

As a compromise between these two lines of thought, I suggest we call native cultivars and hybrids “Nativars.” If we use this term, then purists may not get as upset with us for stealing their plants and diluting the meaning of “native.” We will also reduce confusion and in fact provide additional value to the native moniker. Using “Nativars” will in the long run enhance the native plant movement, regardless of how it is defined. They will also increase our ability to get good plants into the hands of those who want that feel-good reaction and not feel guilty in doing so.

For native plant purists, cultivars just sully up the game plan. For breeders of baptisias, monarda and phlox, purists are nothing but collectors. Don’t get into arguments, find your comfort level, use or don’t use nativars, but understand one thing—the gardening-as-lifestyle movement is here to stay.

Let’s call the whole thing off

From contributing Ranter Allan Armitage:

I wrote this a number of years ago after I discovered gardeners, even students, were intimidated when trying to give scientific names. They said they felt silly especially if they were with other gardeners whom they were sure “knew everything” and might correct their pronunciation. I talked a little about scientific and common names a few rants ago, but now that everyone wants to talk plant latin and plant greek, here is the next barrier to overcome.

Excerpted from Herbaceous Perennials Plants 3rd ed: Most people like to pronounce names with some degree of confidence. Scientific names can be intimidating and often we will not say them for fear of sounding ignorant. Like anything else, pronunciation is something that one feels confident with only with continued use. If scientific names are seldom part of one's gardening vocabulary, we will always stumble and stutter. I have provided pronunciation guides for most genera and specific epithets in my books, as “correct” as I thought possible, but with a definite Armitage bias as well. And I often get skewered by linguists and editors.

However, let’s get real. Does a person in Germany pronounce a genus like a person in Ireland, or Holland? Of course not. Does it really matter if paniculata is pronounced (pa-nik-ew-lah' ta) or (pa-nik-ew-lay' ta)? I prefer to pronounce Stokesia as (stokes' ee-a), in recognition of Dr. John Stokes, for whom the genus was named. However (stow-keys' ee-a) is commonly used and equally understood. I read comments in Internet articles and can even hear proper botanical etiquette through my speakers that someone has posted. They are all very well done, and most differ with each other.

In teaching my students and talking with growers, landscapers and gardeners, I had to come up with an easy rule. So, here is the Armitage Method for Plant Pronunciation. “Get the syllables in the right order, then fire away.”

Don’t worry about sounding silly, it is only the garden snob who continually tries to correct you. And who needs snobs in a garden?

I have a question for Rant readers. How do you pronounce clematis? I have been corrected on this a number of times, and I’d love to know how others say it.—Elizabeth

Gardening easy in the South? Not so much.

from contributing Ranter Allan Armitage.

I wrote these thoughts after I had been in the South for nearly 10 years, but particularly after I heard for about the 10th time from people in Michigan, Minnesota, Ohio and elsewhere: “How I envy you, it must be so much easier gardening in the South”.
—-Excerpted from Herbaceous Perennials Plants

Many species are cultivated in both Montreal, Canada, and Athens, Georgia, areas characterized, respectively, as far North and deep South. I have gardened in both places—as well as in East Lansing, Michigan—and traveled with open eyes throughout the United States, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, the Mideast, South Africa and much of Europe.

No absolute demarcation exists where North ends and South begins, but when I speak, I refer to the South as zones 7-10 of the USDA Hardiness Zone Map. Zone 7 (minimum 0-10 F) ranges as far north as Rhode Island, into Virginia, and cuts across Tennessee, Arkansas, central Oklahoma, central Texas, southern New Mexico, and into Arizona and California. Many climatic factors interact with the plants’ ability to thrive or languish in a given zone, and hardiness ratings must be treated cautiously (a subject for another time).

Typical in Florida (Eliz's photo)

Several differences are obvious between plants of the same species grown in Northern and Southern locales. In the South, temperate zone plants flower earlier, are taller and may have weaker stems due to the accumulated heat. Tall forms tend to collapse without support and dwarf selections are usually more effective in the southern garden. Fertilizer need not be applied as generously in the South as in the North, particularly on tall cultivars, as additional growth is not the goal. Lanky, leggy growth occurs at the expense of flower production if too much nitrogen is applied. This happens regardless of latitude, but is more prominent in the South. The lack of snow is a major detriment to overwintering perennials anywhere. Snow provides insulation from the cold and plants tucked beneath the protective eiderdown survive cold winters well. That is why my friends in the Gaspe’ of Quebec (zone 3) claim that gardening is so easy there.

Typical in Buffalo (Eliz's photo)

Where rain replaces snow (as in the South), the major survival problem is inadequate drainage. This is particularly true on heavy clay where cold winter rains result in soggy, water-logged soils and roots, crowns, and bulbs are immersed in free-standing water. Rot organisms proliferate and plants disappear, not because of lack of cold hardiness but because they rotted in the ground. Summer temperatures and humidity in the South are also detriments to perenniality. Plants not adapted to the South often perform poorly because of high night temperatures, which significantly affects the rate of plant respiration. When night temperatures remain above 70F the process of respiration continues unabated and competes more aggressively for the carbohydrates produced during the day by photosynthesis. This results in lack of stored carbohydrates, inhibition of chlorophyll synthesis, and lack of secondary cell wall formation. The consequence is reduced vigor, weak stunted plants and small foliage. Species not capable of acclimatization cannot store the reserves necessary to survive the winter. In many cases, death is due not to lack of winter hardiness, but lack of summer tolerance. Many problems may be minimized with fall planting, allowing plants time to build starch reserves and develop an extensive root system prior to the onset of winter. Fall planting is more critical in the South than the North for most temperate species.

Given all the problems associated with gardening in the South, one would believe that I think Southern gardening is more difficult than northern gardening. I do! There is no doubt that gardening is far more challenging. More challenging, but equally wonderful. I have gardened in Athens for over twenty years now, and I think I am finally getting the hang of it.

Regardless of where one gardens, two things become self-evident. The first is that soil preparation is half the battle. The second has to do with the plants one selects. Choosing plants that are adapted to the site and climate makes more sense than constantly trying to grow plants that are doomed to failure within a year or two. This is not to say that we shouldn’t experiment with plant selection—half the fun of gardening is to try plants that “are not supposed to grow here”. But there are virtually endless species and cultivars hardy for your area to try—without trying to overwinter a plant native to the tropics.

Well, of course Allan loses me on that last line (I have a dozen colocasia resting in my basement as we speak!), but I found this essay on North and South very interesting. I had always envied Southern gardeners, without realizing what a struggle warm zone gardening could be.—Elizabeth

The classiest from Classic City: trial garden winners revealed

A post from contributing Ranter Allan Armitage:

I am in charge of an intense trialing program at the University of Georgia in Athens, in the UGA Gardens. Athens is in the northern part of the state, geographically considered to be in the foothills of the Smokey Mountains. It has been around for quite a while and thus is known as the Classic City.

We work with nearly all the flower breeders in the world, including those from Japan, Australia, United States, Canada, Israel, and other nations. Chosen from thousands of plants, the Classic City award winners exemplify plants that displayed the best performance throughout the entire season. For annuals, plants have to be eye-catching all season, in both foliage and flowers. Perennial foliage also has to look good, on a plant that knocks our socks off when our socks least expect it.

We chose 10 annuals and 9 perennials in total. (Here’s where you can see all the plants.) I have included the name of the breeders or distributors, because the people who bred the plants love to know you are reading this. All of the plants are available through mail order or at better garden centers.

By the way, the UGA gardens are great to visit, and Athens is a wonderful college town, with lots of good restaurants, theater and southern charm. You’re invited any time—no charge for gardeners. Here are some of the winners in the category of annuals:

Geranium ‘Calliope Dark Red’ - Goldsmith/Syngenta
Every year we receive about 60 new geraniums to trial, and it can be quite difficult to get excited about one more red geranium. In general, most zonals struggle in the heat of the summer here, although ivys fare considerably better. Last year we awarded ‘Caliente,’ the first of the ivy-zonal hybrids, this award, and this year we are proud to do the same with its cousin, ‘Calliope Dark Red.’ In a hanging basket, it performed well all season but so did many of the other ivys in the trials. It pulled away from the leaders, however, with its persistent color and quality in the ground beds, where it far outshone its zonal competitors. Brilliant dark red color, persistent dark foliage, and season-long performance.

Begonia ‘Ikon Blush White’ - Floranova
Every year we are surprised by plants that quietly catch our eye every time we pass them. Sometimes when such a plant is pointed out, you wonder how you missed it. This was the case with this spectacular basket begonia. The soft light green leaves contrasted with blushes of pink and white from the flowers. It was always in flower and never did we see any problems with the foliage. We trialed plants in a basket and a container, and both performed wonderfully. We are looking forward to continued breeding in this series.

Scaevola ‘Surdiva White’ - Suntory
Suntory has always been on the cutting edge of new introductions, and their fan flowers have always impressed us. In the heat and humidity of the Southeast, good fan flowers are important. Last year we presented ‘Cajun Blue’ with this award; this year, halleleujah, we have a non-blue fan flower we can get excited about. The Surdiva series was particularly eye catching this year (the pink came close to an award), but ‘Surdiva White’ won hands down. There were many excellent blues, but having a white scaevola which we could use in combination plantings made all the difference. Lots of flowers all the time, no legginess and no maintenance. What’s not to like?

Capsicum ‘Purple Flash’ - Pan American Seed
During our open houses in June, we asked industry visitors and consumers alike to flag the plants that most caught their eye. With incredible color, impressive vigor and drop-dead show-offs throughout the garden, we were more than a little surprised when, at the end of the day, the most flags had been stuck in this planting of capiscum. But we weren’t surprised long, because as we paid more attention, the beautiful multi-colored foliage, the attractive flowers and the dark fruit just kept getting better and better. The disease resistant foliage and easy-to-maintain dwarf habit sealed the deal, with the fruit as an added bonus. A pepper—who’d a thunk it!

Colocasia ‘Diamond Head’ - Plant Haven
During and after the 2008 pack trials, so much fuss was made over this group of plants, bred by Dr. Cho at the University of Hawaii, that we had to have them. Thanks to our colleagues at James Greenhouse down the road, we obtained the entire series in June (later than we wished). They took a little while to get up to speed, but they soon became the foliage beacons in The Gardens. While they were all good, ‘Diamond Head’ was spectacular. It soon was 5’ tall and equally wide, with impressive deep black shiny foliage that stood up on its own—seldom falling over as taros are wont to do. This was another plant that just got better as the season progressed.

Congratulations to the all the breeders of these exciting plants.

Definitely plants to be thankful for. I have my eye on that colacasia!—Elizabeth

So You Want To Dumb Us Down Even More?

By contributing Ranter Allan Armitage

I was one of a number of speakers at an excellent landscape symposium on Long Island a couple of years ago; during a panel, we were all asked to field questions from the audience. I always cringe at such opportunities. (I try to mind my own business and stay out of trouble, and usually don’t have a good answer to problems of deer or shade trees anyway.) This was written with the retailer and professional in mind.

Most of the questions were straightforward enough, and the session was almost completed when a fellow asked, “What do you think about the increasing use of common names in our industry?”

One of the speakers, a rhododendron guru, stated that he used botanical names exclusively in his retail and wholesale nursery, and the other experts essentially said the same. Common names were confusing, they didn’t match up in different parts of the country, and as gardeners and landscapers became more competent, they shouldn’t have too much problem speaking about plants or asking for plants botanically.

Toad lily or tricyrtis japonica?

As the moderator was about to move on, I couldn’t help myself. I said (nicely), “Wait a minute, you guys are crazy! We have fewer customers than ever; the baby boomers can’t be expected to keep funding this industry, but most importantly, we have to make gardening and landscaping simpler.

“We as professionals should know the botanical names of everything we grow and sell, that is why we call ourselves professionals. Knowing the botanical name keeps us from ordering the wrong plant, and we all speak the same language. However why do we want to force feed them to our customers?

“As professionals, we should know, use and promote the common names to simplify and make the buying experience more user-friendly. To think that my daughter Heather is ever going to learn Chaenomeles instead of quince, Baptisia rather than indigo, and to think she will ever get her tongue around Calibrachoa is ludicrous; she hasn’t the time or the interest. We should know those names, but yes, we should be using common names. Absolutely. Not as a substitute but as a way of making Heather feel more comfortable.”

The place buzzed a little, and then the same fellow, obviously somewhat upset with my inappropriate answer, bellowed “So you want to dumb us down even more?”

Why we garden

From contributing Ranter Allan Armitage

I have been asked so many times “Why are you so keen on gardening?” My reply is “You should see the people who come to my talks, now they are really nuts!” I wrote this short essay after being asked that too many times.

—Excerpted from Herbaceous Perennials Plants 3rd edition

I still possess a small booklet called To Buy or Not to Buy about why people buy plants, based on in-depth interviews with gardeners in different areas of the country. Its objectives were not to determine common motivations such as “to make my yard look pretty,” but to bring out the true and somewhat deeply hidden reasons why people garden.

I have talked about some of their findings in almost every lecture I have given for the last twenty years. And whenever I do, people nod their heads in agreement, and wonder why they haven’t heard these things before.

When gardeners are asked to describe reasons for gardening, three words emerge time and again: therapeutic, creative and exciting. Such words are more often associated with sporting events than gardening—nonetheless, therapy, creativity, and excitement are integral parts of gardening.

Therapeutic, because of the feeling that all is well with the world when our hands are in Mother Earth. Therapeutic because when a seed is sown, a cutting rooted, or seedling planted, we have accomplished something important.

Creative, because artistry is an inescapable part of gardening. A swath of Astilbe brightens the shade, a grouping of cool-leaved Artemisia brings calm to its neighbors, and a half-dozen forget-me-nots sing of spring. Each grouping creates vistas of beauty. We do not require a degree in landscape architecture to create such beauty; all we need is the simple love of gardening.

Exciting is a word seldom attributed to gardening. But is it not exciting to watch a garden change with time? To watch wild ginger bull through the soil in early spring, anticipate the popping of the buds of balloon flower, and anticipate the magic of the re-emergence of resurrection flower—these things are truly exciting.

Perhaps a couple of quotes from the past are also appropriate. The first is attributed to the great plant hunter Ernest Henry Wilson, who wrote it just three years before his death in 1930:

There are no happier folk than plant-lovers and none more generous than those who garden. There is a delightful freemasonry about them; they mingle on a common plane, share freely their knowledge and with advice help one over the stepping stones that lead to success. It is truthfully said that a congenial companion doubles the pleasures and halves the discomforts of travel and so it is with the brotherhood who love plants. (from E. H. Wilson, Plant Hunting, v.1, 1927)

A second quote comes from one of my former students, who wrote an essay on why people embrace perennials in their gardens. His essay could have been about any of our favorite groups of plants. (Those who believe our students aren’t among the finest in the world need to come and visit my classes.)

Americans, as a rule, live with a certain sense of urgency. Perhaps this is the price we pay for living in such a young country. Why waste time with some fickle plant that will flower only for a few short moments each year when there are countless annuals just begging to bloom all summer long? The commitment perennials require represents the driving force behind gardening as a whole. When someone kills a window box of petunias, there is no love lost. Odds are that a quick trip to Kmart will have the window box blooming again in short order. Let there be no doubt about the glorious beauty of a well-planted annual garden. But for all their show and eagerness-to-please, annuals provoke no anticipation. To be among an established garden teaches one why we have gardens at all; gardens are our refuge from the irritations of everyday life, places of peace and serenity that provide the hope and anticipation of good things to come. (Ken James, student, 1995)

Today, Ken and his wife Leah are proud owners of James Greenhouses in beautiful Colbert, Georgia, and are exceptional growers of perennials. And the booklet To Buy or Not to Buy was written in 1968. It is just as relevant now as it was then.

Gardening is a four-letter word: the education of a plant guy

Here is the inaugural column from our new contributing ranter, Allan Armitage

I attended a terrific retail seminar a while ago to hear about the state of the retail plant industry.  Well-known and highly competent speakers were orating, and I was soon being gently embraced in marketing and promotion.  I had heard a rumor that people in marketing were not interested in plants, only lifestyles and other such twaddle, so, with an open mind, I thought I would go hear what the other side is saying about plants.  The short answer is “nothing.” The long answer is the same, but a little more educational.  Turns out I was in serious denial, so here is what this plant guy learned.

The good news is that this thing we call gardening is popular; we have an 85-90% participation rate of homeowners in the country (the entire other 10-15% must live in my neighborhood).  Those are enviable numbers for any industry.  However, it also turns out that few people out there want to work anymore.

I learned that the DIYers (do-it yourselfers) are a dying breed, quickly being gobbled up by the DIFMers (do-it-for me-ers).  Thus, the only people who are making decisions on which plants to put in the McMansions and subdivisions are the landscapers (having at one time been one, I can testify that we are in trouble).  Yep, the percentage of DIFMers rose from a reasonable 22% in 2000 to a whopping 46% in 2007. I see why the box stores are vigorously promoting their landscape services.  The market gurus insist that the trend will continue, fewer and fewer people will do less and less gardening, and plants will more marginalized than ever.

From the perspective of the market folks, the plant itself does nothing more than fill a function: be a hedge, fill a container with color, hide the grill, or feed the butterflies.  It really could be anything, the name is unimportant, and the cultivar … well, that is simply Greek.  Is it not ironic that the last five years that have seen the greatest increase in new plants are the same five years that have seen people care less about them?

I learned as much about acronyms as I did marketing. Turns out that in market speak, a new group has emerged: the DSOIFMers (do-some-of-it-for-me-ers).  I think the DIFMers can’t stand all these helpers running around the place.  Actually, we all can use some help, so this one makes sense.

One of the most enlightening remarks I heard defined the differences between two words we use almost interchangeably: landscaping and gardening.  I learned that according to recent marketing surveys, people now have the perception that “landscaping is sexy; gardening is work.” It used to be the other way around.  And do you know the main reason the guy with the shovel and red pick up truck has become popular?  It is because of … Home Improvement TV!  Good grief, do people actually believe that stuff?

Anyway, I hear this gloom and doom all the time now.  “Gardening is a four letter word; gardening is dead,” “The demand for new crops will slow considerably,” “Young people are horticulturally incompetent,” yadda, yadda.  I believe some of it, of course, because it’s true.  Heck, my lovely, bright, happily married daughters—both with fine homes and green lawns—don’t own lawn mowers and don’t know a coneflower from a daylily.  But I don’t fret; at that age, I had no interest either, and if I could have found somebody to cut the grass, I would have done so in a heartbeat.  I have heard the same gloom and doom about attendance at movie theaters with the arrival of the DVD, the same moaning about church attendance with malls opening on Sundays, but theaters and churches are managing to survive.

Every time I am asked to speak to groups around the country, both gardeners and industry people still want to hear about plants—and gardens.  Times are changing, absolutely, and yes, there is trouble brewing.  People are aging, style is more important than substance— which is to say “lifestyle” is more important—the Internet is everywhere, and we have to market our products differently than we did 10 years ago.

But every industry is going through the same changes. We can read anything we want on a computer monitor today, but it will never replace the feel and comfort of turning pages in a book.  As for me, I am getting older, slower, and want fewer plants, but my daughters will be buying more in a few years.  And they have 6 babies between them, so, though I expect some wobbling, I am convinced plants and we plant sellers will all be around for many years.

Heeeeeerrrrre’s Allan! Our new contributing Ranter

We’re very pleased and proud to announce that someone whom most of you know and respect is joining us as an intermittent Ranter.

Horticulturalist, author, lecturer, and plant developer/seller Allan Armitage became intrigued by the idea of ranting after talking to both Susan and me about how Garden Rant works. I had interviewed him about the third edition of his Herbaceous Perennial Plants, and Susan had fun hanging out with him at the Garden Writers Association conference in Portland in late summer.

You all know Allan Armitage as “the perennial guy,” just as Michael Dirr is “the tree guy.” Some of the most well-known Armitage titles (there are 11) are Herbaceous Perennial Plants, Armitage’s Garden Perennials, and Armitage’s Native Plants for North American Gardens. If you have any of these books, you also know that he’s an entertaining and opinionated writer as well as an expert plantsman.

Allan Armitage has an endowed professorship at the University of Georgia at Athens, where he runs the research gardens, co-founded with Michael Dirr in 1982. As a teacher and speaker, “Dr. A” is in constant demand, and has won numerous honors, including the The Kiplinger Chair at Ohio State University, the Brooks Award for Teaching, the Alex Laurie Award for outstanding research in horticulture, and the Golden Trowel from the Garden Writers Association for Allan Armitage on Perennials, just to name a very few of his awards. He has a B.Sc from MacDonald College, a Quebec, M.Sc. from University of Guelph, Ontario and his Ph.D. from Michigan State, and has lectured in all 50 states, as well as in New Zealand, Canada, Australia, Germany, and Greece.

I’m not done. There is also Athens Select, a line of heat and humidity tolerant plants for the American market. Plants introduced by Armitage include Ipomea “Marguerita,” Cleome “Linde Armstrong,” Verbena “Homestead Purple” (with Michael Dirr), and Ruellia “Rajin’ Cajun.”

On a more personal level, Allan was born in Montreal, lives most of the year in Athens, and has two daughters; I mention them because you'll be hearing about them.

So yeah. We’re flattered that “Dr. A” would want to rant with us (at least twice a month and maybe more). Readers, what would YOU like to hear Allan rant about? Let me know in comments. In the meantime, expect his first rant bright and early tomorrow morning!