Wood Poppy

I absolutely love learning a new plant.  I saw this at a client's property in Maryland last week and was informed it was wood poppy, or Stylophorum diphyllum.  Though not a true Papaver it is indeed in the poppy, or Papaveraceae family.

I'm chagrined because at first glance I thought it was a buttercup, or member of the Ranunculaceae family.  The yellow flowers influenced my snap judgment, which is always a good reminder to look more carefully when inspecting plants in the field.

If I had paid closer attention, I would have noted the poppy-like fuzzy flower buds and the soft hairs on the flower's peduncle -- both typical to poppies and not at all common on buttercups. Also like poppies, when the stem is broken a milky sap exudes from the plant.

Stylophorum is a native wildflower and naturalizes damp woods with ease.  The genus name simply means "having styles" which are the stem(s) that supports the female flower part - the stigma.  Diphyllum refers to the pair of leaves that usually are found at the base of the flower.  The plant is also commonly called celandine poppy.

Prunus persica

My family has been going to the Ocean City, New Jersey for the beach since I was a little kid, living in South Jersey myself.  My mother's family has been going to this town since the 1950's so it has a pretty dear place in our hearts.  Given my own childhood of moving every three years, I'm especially fond of it, since I have memories of being there when I was three years old up until now, when I'm ___ years old!

Whenever we make the drive from the DC area, we pass through a lot of farmland, on Route 40, between the shore itself and the Delaware River Memorial Bridge.  It's beautiful country and always reminds me more of the midwest than a place that's geographically a few hours' drive from DC, Baltimore, Philadelphia and New York. Most times, I'm making the drive by myself and feel too rushed to stop and snap pictures, but my mom and I were in the car together this last time and we began "Peachtree watch, Spring 11."  Or something.

This orchard is just budding up and I'll post pictures of the trees' progress in the weeks to come.  Even in winter it's beautiful.  The silver hue of the old bark sparkles in a gray winter January landscape and the new growth is, well, peachy colored.

The genus itself, Prunus should sound familiar.  Just last Sunday I posted on a far more recognizable species of Prunus - the cherry tree.  Also known as Prunus x. yedoensis, Prunus serrulata, etc.

Indeed, cherries are more popular for ornamental purposes whereas peaches are mainly grown for producing fruit.  The species name, persica literally means "peach" in Latin.  It was believed the plant was from Persia (Iran) but now we know that it is originally native to China but its origin became confused on its trip to Europe via the Silk Road.

Now then, as a former resident of Athens, Georgia, I will not contest the quality of Georgia or South Carolina peaches.  I get it.  But Jersey peaches are damn good.  And of course ecologically, who doesn't want to buy local?  The geology of the region lends itself to good produce (ergo the "Garden State") - low flat land with sandy soil and a high water table (typical for the Atlantic Coastal Plain) makes for good farming.  

In fact, my family loves Jersey produce so much, we play a terrible game.  Go to the farmer's stand and pick one thing.  What do you get?  For me, it's an easy game until I get down to the final three: tomatoes, blueberries and peaches.  All delicious.   

 

Though peaches do make the best pies. 

Lawns and Fertilizer in the Post Today

A few months ago I posted a link to Todd Haiman's blog Landscape Design and More.  The subject: lawns. 

I offered my own reservations about an irrational abundance of turfgrass in the landscape, saying restricting lawn use could be for ecological reasons because, "you don't want to use too much fuel for your mower or water for irrigation."  Well, shame on me for not adding excess fertilizer and runoff of chemicals to that list.  I surely know that's another hazard of lawns, but failed to add that in my post.

Perhaps fertilizers are more on the brain these days -- I've been teaching a horticultural science course at the Grad School here in DC and recently lectured on plant nutrition.  I'd like to think I was fairly strident when telling my students to avoid thoughtlessly throwing fertilizer on everything, precisely because it's contributing to the pollution in our waterways. And I'm part of a much larger trend, as evidenced today in the Washington Post.  The piece features a study by the Environment Maryland Policy and Research Center citing lawn fertilizers as one of the major sources of pollution in the Chesapeake Bay and imploring the state to issue mandates limiting their use, similar to restrictions in New York and New Jersey.  The study is countered by the president of the Maryland Turfgrass Council, Vernon Cooper, who offers a quote that is full of bad science: "[turf is] one of the best filters to prevent damage to the bay." He elaborates that it acts as a sponge that filters nutrients from rain runoff and adds. “A weak or thin lawn allows more sediment to be washed in the bay,”  His quotes are theoretically accurate: plant coverage reduces erosion and the loss of topsoil and sediments to nearby waterways.  But turf that is inundated with fertilizers which in turn wash into waterways is far more damaging than "sediment." Grr.

Strange Art

Yesterday, I was heading back to DC after a weekend in NYC and southern New Jersey.  I was giving my mom a lift back to DC as well and we had to stop to take pictures of this funny little sculpture.

I think it's part bunny, part Max from Where the Wild Things Are.  In any case, it's a strange surprise to encounter on a relatively quiet rural road in south Jersey.

Et cetera

I've been blogging a bit less frequently lately, but that's not to say I haven't been writing. 

Please check out a piece I wrote for the American Society of Landscape Architects Spring 2011 Residential Landscape Architecture Newsletter.  It details some work I had done on my parents' property this autumn.  The perennial gardens we established are beginning to green up and as soon as things start blooming I'll be posting some new photos.

I also have my newest contribution to my friend John's blog, Grown in the City.  It provides a bit of history behind the Cherry Blossom Festival, which has now begun in DC.

More tomorrow!

Jasminum nudiflorum

Chances are you've seen a lot of this plant lately -- particularly if you are in the DC area or walking around Central Park in New York.  Though it's hard to miss right now -- with it's bright yellow flowers -- you may have previously assumed it was another Forsythia. 

And from a distance, that's a reasonable assumption.  They have a similar flower color and both bloom in early spring when few other species are blooming.  However, the green, square stems of winter jasmine are quite different from the putty colored woody stems of Forsythia and the flowers consist of five petals with an elongated, tubular neck, whereas Forsythia is four-petaled.

Also, Forsythia can be an upright shrub or a pendulous specimen (depending on the species).  Jasminum nudiflorum is always a cascading shrub and is often seen used to best effect in a scenario like the one below at Dumbarton Oaks.

Forsythia Dell at Dumbarton Oaks

I"m shamed to say I didn't even realize there was a "Forsythia Dell" in Dumbarton Oaks until last week.  Had I known, I would have waited for these pics before posting my ambivalent thoughts on Forsythia last week. 

 

That's not to say my opinion on Forstyhia has changed much.  I still think it's overused, and doesn't contribute much to a garden after its bloom time.  But this planting - an acre of Forsythia shared between Dumbarton Oaks and Dumbarton Oaks Park - does make a compelling argument for the genus.

Museum of the American Indian, this time with water

This past weekend I had a friend in town who is an architect so before we finished our amble through the mall area on Sunday, we walked past the Museum of the American Indian, so I could pick his brain about the building's design, since I'm still on the fence about how much I do or don't like it.  

 

We both kinda like it, but kinda don't; it seems like a case of "too much, or not enough."  Regardless of my misgivings, the space did become much more lively when the water feature is running.  The reflections of the boulders are quite lovely and evoke a permanency in the face of erosion

 

...Though I'm still not sold on the materials, the paving and retaining wall materials feel like such a huge departure from the facade. 

Scilla siberica

Last Saturday, I took my design class through Dumbarton Oaks for a field trip.   It had been almost exactly four months since my last visit and it was a delight to be there at the beginning of spring. Really, truly: if you live in the DC area and have never been to the gardens, please go.  It's worth it!

 

Above, tucked in among the foliage of Eranthis hyemalis, is a wonderful spring bulb, Scilla siberica.  Scilla is native to the Mediterranean, like most bulbs, which grow leaves and flower in the early spring and go dormant during the hot, dry summers. 

The straight species is blue, but an 'alba' variety exists which is white, as there are some others that are ever so slightly pink.  The plant can naturalize quite easily from seed and that feature has been used to a great effect here on a wooded hillside of the gardens.

Gorgeous!  It's made me think I definitely need to order more Scilla for my parents' place this autumn.  Though diminutive in size (it barely passes 6" in height) the impact of using it en masse cannot be dismissed!

Winter Daphne

So yes, perhaps on first glance you see the star magnolia in this pic and you are second guessing my post title.  But then, you look more closely and see a spotty shrub growing out of the fence, and you feel the need to inspect more closely.  That's pretty much what my experience was when I parked across from this Georgetown garden a few days ago.

 

I knew, from across the street, that it wasn't an early Ericaceous plant like azalea or andromeda and it wasn't one of the many sulfur-yellow early spring plants, like Forsythia, Cornus mas or Jasminum nudiflorum (more on that one next week).  I suspected it could be winter daphne, or Daphne odora, but had my doubts.  The plant is notoriously difficult to grow and it seemed unlikely to thrive here, jammed in an urban, crowded garden. 

 

But at closer inspection, it sure enough was winter daphne.  The glossy, broad leaves with faintly variegated margins, the round infloresences and of course the dizzying, heady fragrance are all clear giveaways.  If I didn't want the owners of that lovely home to sue me, I'd tell you where I found this plant and insist you smell it for yourself.  It's utterly intoxicating.

But as I said, it's a tough plant to keep happy.  Dirr says, "What a wonderful plant! Temperamental, trying, but worth all the attention."  Sounds like some relationships!

Speaking of which, this presents a perfect opportunity to address the plant's nomenclature.  Daphne is named for the mythological Greek nymph who, in order to avoid Apollo's fervent love and desire for her, prayed for help and was transformed into a laurel (Laurus nobilis).  In ancient Greece, Laurus nobilis was referred to as Daphne.  How and when the new genus Daphne acquired its name and Laurus started being called laurel, is a mystery I cannot shed light on today.

Clover, more specifically those with four leaves

Sadly, I don't have any good pics of Trifolium repens, or red clover, besides this one.  And you can hardly see the leaves on it.  As the genus name implies, this plant typically has three leaves, but if you find one with four (a 1 in 10,000 chance) then you are said to be granted with good luck.   

 

Legend has it that the leaves on clover stand for hope, faith and love and if there's a fourth leaf, that stands for luck.  Why some specimens of Trifolium have that fourth leaf is still not fully understood.  The possible reasons include environmental conditions or a very recessive genetic marker.

In any case, have a lucky and happy St. Patrick's day!

The Infamous Forsythia

It's such a delight to be living in a new (but altogether familiar) city.  While I loved living in New York, the plant life there was getting a bit rote.  Whereas now, every time I go for a run, I'm inspecting new palettes, making note of when to return to see a particular plant in flower or fall color.  For example, on Monday, I decided I'd come back to Hains Point to see this Magnolia x soulangiana in full bloom -- as you can see it's just about to open. 

 

But today, we'll talk about the plant to the right, Forsythia.  Most likely, Fosythia x intermedia.  I know that Forsythia is a very common plant when my spell check recognizes it as a valid word and of course, none of us needed that to testify to the plant's popularity.  Almost unknown until the 18th Century, Forsythias became popular after western botanist Carl Peter Thunberg noted the plant growing in a Japanese garden. Its early spring flowers, fast growth and general bulletproof nature have aided in its surge in popularity since then.

But is it really worth it?  Does adding this to a landscape for a cheap thrill in March validate its scraggly appearance the rest of the year?  Probably not.  To quote Dirr (for the second day in a row!), "Upright and arching canes will give it the appearance that the roots were stuckin an electric socket; always needs grooming, one of th emost overrated and over-used shrubs!" 

Indeed. 

But, a nostalgic part of me likes the plant, as I remember it growing everywhere when I was a kid.  Its role as a bellwether for spring is almost more iconic or mythical than it is actual; I mean, there's plenty of other plants that herald spring, but it seems everyone knows this one.  That said, I doubt I would ever put it in a design.  Unless... my apartment here has a small balcony and I'm considering placing an espalier plant on the brick wall that faces the glass door that leads to the space.  Websites indicate this plant espaliers well, but photos of it are lacking.  I may have to consider using this.   Any thoughts?

Red Maple

I did a quick tally on my archives at this site, as well as on NYPAOS and realize I have posted about a grand total of seven maple species: Acer griseum (paperbark maple), A. capillipes (snakebark maple), A. palmatum (Japanese maple) and A. pseudoplatanus (sycamore maple) here on Planted Cloud, and A. platanoides (Norway maple), A. saccharum (sugar maple) and A. campestre (hedge maple) on NYPAOS.

 

And yet, I've never mentioned Acer rubrum, or red maple (AKA: swamp maple), which is one of my favorite of the genus.  While the fall color is highly variable (despite the common name, the leaves on this species sometimes aren't red, but yellow and orange, too), I love this plant for its spring flowers.  The photo above was taken about two weeks ago.  It's of a 25 year old specimen at my folks' place.  As you can see, the new stems are red -- they turn this color in winter/fall -- and the buds are fattening up.

 

Here's the same tree, two weeks later.  The buds have flowered into tiny puffballs of marginally diminutive flowers of petals, stamens and pistils.  The tree is monecious, which means that there are female and male specimens of the tree.  Which is a wonderful segue way for me to implore you all to pick up a copy of Dirr. At first glance, his reference book is pretty dry.  But when you really read through all his descriptions you pick up wonderful passages like the following: 

I have assessed the peculiar sexual preferences of this species -- actually quite kinky for in a give population of seedlings staminate, pistillate, monoecious and monecious with hermaphrodite (bisexual) flowers occur; an interesting anecdote concerns male trees in a 25-tree popularion on the Georgia campus that grow much faster than their seed bearing sisters; my supposition...so much stored carbohydrate is required for fruit formation that vegetative growth is reduced.  

It's simply not often enough that one employs the term 'kinky' in reference to a tree!

Anyway, back to the tree.  In addition to being highly variable in fall color, red maples differ greatly in their cold tolerance, depending on where they were first grown as seedlings.  A seedling from the south may not perform well at all in northern climes and vice versa.  These are reasons that there's a tremendous market for red maple cultivars ('Armstrong,' 'Autumn Glory' and 'October Glory' are a few classics).  Indeed, if your client wants red fall color on a red maple guaranteed, you don't want to take your chances with generic nursery stock.

A Walk Through the National Museum of the American Indian Landscape

Two weeks ago, I met my students at the USBG.  When we finished touring, we took a quick walk over to the National Museum of the American Indian to take a look at the plantings and landscape design there.  

 

Completed in 2004, this building was fairly new to me and since I've returned to the DC area, I've not had a chance to take a good look at the site.  I have to admit, driving past it on Independence Avenue always let me a bit cold.  I wasn't crazy about the undulating curves, thinking they seemed a bit contrived (and knowing that the absence of corners was part of the concept, which is intended to honor certain Native American philosophies).

But, when in the building's main entry courtyard, my opinions changed a bit.  The space defined by the building's face is dramatic and has a stimulating kind of energy.

 

That's not to say I would have changed the texture of the windows a bit.  I speculated recently with an architect friend of mine and we wonder if the tight mullions were designed for budgetary or programmatic reasons.  The buiding's stone skin is so fine textured, I would have preferred to see larger, curved spans (i.e. expensive) panels of glass with less "designed" frames.  

 

And while it's hard to judge on a dreary day in early March, I wasn't feeling the landscape architectural design.  The change in materials between the clay-colored stone walls and the dark, highly finished stone pavers seems a bit abrupt.  And while the curvilinear design mirrors the building well, it otherwise feels to me like two different places.  I would have speculated that the landscape architect and the architect were not really dialoguing on this.

And boy would I have been dead wrong.  The same firm, Jones and Jones Architects and Landscape Architects, designed all of this (collaborating with AECOM, nee EDAW, Douglas Cardinal Joseph and GBQC Architects).   I'll definitely have to revisit this site on a summer day and see how the landscape works when people are using the seatwalls and water is flowing through the fountain feature at right in the photo.

Check out my Contribution to Yesterday's 'Grown in the City', also Daffodils

I've mentioned my friend John's blog 'Grown in the City' before and I've begun a regular contribution to it, which debuted yesterday.  The subject: Hamamelis or witch hazel.

I've written about witch hazel on NYPAOS several times before, but yesterday's post is a touch more in depth, so definitely check it out!

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Another plant that is in bloom right now, which I've also covered on NYPAOS is the cheery daffodil.  Check out last year's post on Narcissus here to learn more about the different categories of daffodil and how to determine them.

More later!

Yellow Twig Dogwood

I was in New York earlier this week for a few meetings and was able to squeeze in a morning run in Central Park.  I stopped along the way to take this shot of Cornus sericea 'Flaviramea', or yellow twig dogwood.  That building beyond is the landmarked Majestic Building, one of the first deco residential structures in Manhattan. 

 

I blogged about Cornus sericea before (at least I'm 99% sure it was C. sericea  and not C. alba).  And while the red and yellow twig dogwoods appear so different, genetically they are within the same species.  'Flaviramea' is a cultivar that has been around for just over 100 years and while it is prone to cankers, it's a nice change of pace from the red stems. 

Like red twig dogwoods, this plant is more deeply hued after heavy pruning and can be quite striking in front of a green background, as it is above. 

Spring Window Display

This was too cute not to share.  I saw it at the Gracious Home near Lincoln Center when I was in New York last week. 

Get it?  Bulbs, and bulbs?  I appreciated the wink that someone at Gracious Home was sharing with those of use who know what tulips grow from.

Winter Aconite

Here's a small swath of winter aconite, or Eranthis hyemalis, growing near the Edgeworthia I posted about yesterday.   I love this sunny yellow flower, which grows from a tuber in the spring.  Leaves and blossoms emerge at the same time in early spring and when the forest canopy becomes more dense, the plant has adapted to lose its above-ground parts and become dormant. This phenomena, in regards to plants, is called aestivation.

Eranthis is in the Ranunculaceae or buttercup family.   The leaves are peltate, which means they don't have petioles.  To me, they look like the ruffled collars you'd see on a clown.

As cheery as this plant is, keep it the hell away from your belly.  It's infamously toxic, as it was what Medea used to poison Theseus.  It evidently tastes quite bad, so you'd be unlikely to actually digest it. Er- is ancient Greek for 'early' and -anthis of course means flower, so the plant is an early spring flower. 

My First Interview!

My friend John writes a great blog here in DC called Grown in the City.  He published an interview with me as part of his "Five Questions For...." series.  It was published on February 24 and those who know me or read regularly will figure out that my grandmother died that day so sharing the link here got lost in the mix.  In any case, check it out!

Edgeworthia chrysantha

No joke, last Saturday I saw this plant along Washington Avenue, approaching the USBG and I double-parked and jumped out of the car to inspect more closely.  I was pretty sure it was, for me, a new discovery. 

And indeed it was: Edgeworthia chysantha, or paperbush.  There's not much online about this plant but Dirr nails my particular experience when he writes "Makes a nifty woodland plant and is a great teaser for the visitor who knows everything."  

The plant is in the Thymelaeaceae family and is thus related to Daphne.  You can see some similarity between the flowers of Daphne and these umbelliferous inflorescences.  Edgeworthia is also, like Daphne, faintly fragrant.  I love the fuzzy, waxy quality of the flowers and the somewhat surprising discovery of a bright yellow after identifying the flowers as white from afar.    

The USBG identifies this plant as E. gardneri and other sources cite is as E. papyrifera, but the exact nomenclature is a bit muddy.  The plant is native to forests and streamlands in China and has been used for paper and medicinal purposes. The foliage (which I've yet to witness myself) is evidently broadleaved, elliptical and bluish in hue.  

Abeliophyllum distichum

Though the plant genus below is Abeliophyllum the common name is 'white forsythia.'  And indeed, even though it's not in the genus Forsythia, the two plants are related, as they are both members of the Oleaceae or olive family.  

Though you can't discern this in these photos, since the plant hasn't leafed out yet, the leaves do indeed resemble Abelia, which accounts for the genus name.  Like Forsythia, I am a bit conflicted about using this plant.  It's a welcome sight this time of year, when we're all desperate for spring, but after it's bloomed and the leaves are out, it's a bit of a sprawling mess.

The plant is becoming increasingly hard to find in its native habitat of Korea, the result of over-harvesting due to its medicinal uses.