Viburnum plicatum 'Popcorn'

Viburnum plicatum - or doublefile viburnum - is a terrifically handy plant.  It's deer resistant, has great fall color and no real pest problems.  It's in bloom right now and typically can be spotted by its large, horizontal branches that seem to extend from the plant parallel to the ground plane, as you can see in this specimen at Tompkins Square Park in New York.

It's called doublefile because typically the flowers and the showy bracts appear in a double line along the branches.

The specimens below belong to the same species, but these cultivars are called 'Popcorn' -- because of the round head of flowers which are actually quite similar to a Hydrangea.

Though this plant is not native (it is from China) the berries it sporadically forms in the fall are good food for birds.  I also love the deeply recessed venation in the leaves -- a feature common in many Viburnum species.

Salvia nemerosa

This is yet another plant I irrationally love.  When I walk by Salvia nemerosa or woodland sage, I can't resist taking a leaf and smelling it.  Like all species in the Salvia genus, the leaves are very aromatic, though cooking sage (Salvia officinalis) has much more aromatic and glaucous (gray) leaves.

That said, I love the somewhat acrid, medicinal smell of these leaves.  It smells sort of like a perm (for those of you who remember perms!).  I'm sure that my good association with this plant must go back to my high school days of working at a plant nursery.  I imagine that there was probably a day where I found out that the guy I liked liked me back and I happened to be at work deadheading salvias when I found out.  Something like that.  There has to be some primal scent connection for me to like this plant so much!

Salvia nemerosa is a popular perennial and if you do cut back the old flowers it can rebloom.  It's a clump forming plant but doesn't really take over an area the way Nepeta can.  They are related -- generally any plants with highly aromatic foliage are in the Lamiaceae or mint family.  Other characteristics in this family include bilaterally symmetrical flowers that appear in whorls around a spike and many members of this family have square stems.

It's hard to mention Salvia these days without addressing the stylish new drug - Salvia divinorum.  They are members of the same genus, but woodland sage won't give you the same psychedelic experience as Salvia divinorum.

Edible Chives on Grown in the City

Check out my post today on Grown in the City -- it features Allium schoenoprasum or the chive plant.

Spring at Mom and Dad's

Last fall, one of my first major projects to start construction was facelifting my parents' 20 year old landscape.   A landscape designer had installed foundation plants like Ilex crenata which had gotten overgrown, and other undesirable choices (like the aggressively self-seeding Koelreuteria paniculata or the dreaded Bradford pear) had declined and been removed, leaving gaps.

I didn't want to go with the typical builder's foundation planting and instead wanted to play up the formality of their house and find a home for hundreds of perennials that were available for transplanting from the backyard. Finally, I wanted to center small, sculptural trees in front of the windows of their study and living room.

To accommodate one of the smaller trees I could think of (Chionanthus virginicus) we still had to widen the path.  The dotted line above indicates the previous paving.  With the help of a great landscaper/handyman, we offset the path four feet, which makes a small terrace in front of the portico which eventually will be furnished with a bench and maybe some pots.

The shot above is after installation, right around the first week in November.  Eventually the boxwoods will connect and form a hedge, hemming in the loose array of perennials and reducing the amount of visible mulch. 

Everything overwintered beautifully and as things bloom this spring and summer I'll be sharing pics.  Right now, the Allium giganteum and Iris germanica are days away from blooming and the Chionanthus is just leafing out.

Meanwhile, the Viburnum plicatum 'Popcorn' is just beginning to bloom.

And Fothergilla gardenii is in full bloom.

As is Aronia arbutitifolia.
 

...It's also worth noting all these plants have avoided being deer food!

Shooting Star

Here's another spring perennial from the Mary Livingston Ripley Garden in DC.  Seriously, if you need some inspiration for spring perennials, take a walk through these lovely gardens.   This plant is Dodecatheon meadia or shooting star.  Its basal rosette of leaves (leaves which have some relief to them) and elongated stems on which the flowers sit (those stems are called peduncles) are typical characteristics to the primrose family (Primulaceae), to which this plant belongs.

It's a gorgeous plant and native to boot.  It's found in the eastern United States from Georgia to Michigan.  It's typically found in wooded shady locations and prefers moist soils.  It has a high tolerance to alkaline soils as well.  It aestivates by mid-summer (i.e., it loses its leaves and goes dormant) but spreads easily and can be divided without trouble.  It is endangered in some states, primarily due to overcollection.

The common name, shooting star, is pretty obvious.  But Dodecatheon -- that's a bit more obscure.  Evidently, a similar primrose was christened with this name by Pliny the Elder himself (one of the first botanists).  He named it because he believed this plant was under watch by gods, twelve of them in fact.  In Greek, dodeca means twelve and theos means God.

Brunnera macrophylla

My regular students know that generally I'm not a fan of variegated plants, but occasionally I make an exception or two.  Cornus alba is one, as is Polygonatum odoratum.  It seems that variegated plants bother me less in the shade.  I suppose in those instances, the white foliage brightens up an otherwise dark space. 

Brunnera macrophylla just barely fits in that category for me.  I don't mind the almost silvery foliage on the rough, scratchy leaves.  Though I suspect I'd like it more if it was a solid green. Brunnera is a tough plant, I've seen it do well being ignored in New York.  This leads me to a sidenote: Now that I am teaching in DC and NY, I find myself telling the DC students a plant is tough based on my observations of seeing it in a harsh NY environment like a blighted park or a poorly maintained planter.  I hit a new low of cheesiness: I told my students, 'If Brunnera can make it in New York, it can make it anywhere.'  Yea, it was embarassing.

Anyway, there's a great common name story with this plant.  Though most people call it Brunnera another common name for it is bugloss.  Naturally you'd think the name refers in some ways to bug.  But no, instead it is derivative of the Greek words bous and glossa, which means "cow's tongue."  This is referring to the mottled tongue-like appearance of the leaves.

Viburnum carlesii

So, I'm teaching a spring perennials course at the USDA Graduate School here in DC this semester.  It's a refreshing change from the woody plants course I teach at Columbia and of course, it requires me to brush up on some of my herbaceous plant knowledge.  To that effect I've been scouring the gardens around DC looking for good class routes. 

 

The Mary Livingston Ripley garden, on Independence and 9th, is a treasure trove.  I was there last week, noting what was in bloom.  But today, when our class met there, everything had already changed.  The Iris bucharica had dwindled and the Erythroniums were merely ghosts.  Dozens of other species had replaced them though.  It was a nice reminder that spring is fleeting, and we should enjoy it. 

If I didn't have more self-restraint, I'd dovetail into a discussion of Viburnum carlesii with some quip about stopping to smell the flowers.  Lucky for you, dear reader, I'm not that cheesy.  But Koreanspice Viburnum is an amazing plant, and if you walk past it, you really should take in the fragrance.  Its heady floral aroma is almost overpowering, but not. 
 

It's also tough as nails.  The plant handles drought, has few disease or pest problems and is not a favorite of deer.  It also has great fall color and blackish berries in autumn (they don't last long; though this is native to Korea, the local bird populations seem to like the fruit).

Bergenia ciliata

Those of you familiar with spring perennials will probably recognize this plant with little difficulty -- it's no doubt a Bergenia.  The tall cymelike inflorescence is a giveaway.  I've never employed Bergenias often, though I can't say why.  They're relatively tough plants, but perhaps a bit awkward for use en masse and at the same time, too diminutive to use as a specimen.

Closer inspection of the leaves cancels out any assumption this plant is the most popular species of Bergenia - B. cordifolia. The leaves on that species aren't hairy like this one.  In fact, the common name for B. cordifolia is pigsqueak because of the noise those leaves make when rubbed together.

This species is B. ciliata, justifiably referring to the hairs on the leaves.  Bergenias are native to mountainous areas of central Asia, such as the Himalayas and Afghanistan.  I'd hazard a guess that this species is native to an arid climate and the hairs on the leaves are employed to capture moisture from the air, much like plants native to desert climates.

Iris bucharica

Here's a funky little species of Iris to add to your spring collection: Iris bucharica or Juno Iris.  I saw this last week just outside the Smithsonian castle, in the rose garden.  There's no mistaking the genus, Iris - since these plants have the characteristic standards (the upright petals) and falls (the hanging petals).  But the species had me a bit stumped -- particularly due to way the leaves stack on each other -- almost like palm fronds. 

'

After browsing through some books, I finally found it -- Juno Irises are several species of Iris, all of which have bulbs (as opposed to the rhizomes of the more common Iris germanica or Iris sibirica). They are native to hot, dry climates, particularly Afghanistan, though the species name bucharica means "of Bukhara", which is in Uzbekistan.

 

In any case, either area indicates that these plants do not like to be wet.  Some sites online recommend covering the plants during rains in the spring, as they are that fussy about wet feet.  Generally the foliage dies off in late summer and returns in the spring. 

Spiraea thunbergii

Here's another shot of one of the moongates in the Enid Haupt Moongate Garden at the Smithsonian yesterday.  Breaking up the mass use of Magnolia x soulangiana, we have a very lovely spring shrub that is stealthily eating visitors as they walk on the adjacent sidewalk.

Well, probably not, but you can probably guess from this pic that the plant is a "vigorous" grower.  It's Spiraea thunbergii or Thunberg Spiraea.  Most hobbyist gardeners know Spiraea but are probably more familiar with the summer blooming S. bumalda.  S. x vanhouttei is another popular species.  But I have a soft spot for this plant. 

(By the way -- see something familiar peeking behind this plant??) I love the long slender stems that are densely packed with miniature rose-like flowers (indeed, this plant is in the Rosaceae family). The plant's been in bloom for a week or two now and the leaves are just beginning to emerge.  Narrow and lanceolate, they are also a great chartreuse shade of green that's much lighter than most shrubs. 

Spiraeas in general are bulletproof; they sustain drought easily and don't have any major pests or diseases.  Really the biggest hazard of having one is that it does need to be maintained.  If left unpruned it will get very scraggly and the inside of the plant will die off from lack of sunlight.

 

Below is one of my favorite uses of the plant -- it's a hedge at the Conservatory Gardens in Central Park.  It prunes easily and is so floriferous, that no matter when you prune it, it will still have a heavy flower set.  You can see that it's been probably a month or so since it was last pruned and the soft, fuzzy texture is such a nice change from yew and holly hedges. The shot below was taken in mid-summer and as you can see, the spring-green hue of the leaves has not darkened. 

The Moongate Garden, at the Enid Haupt Smithsonian Gardens, and the Number Four

Last Friday I was fortunate enough to have some downtime in my schedule for a walk through the Enid Haupt Gardens at the Smithsonian.  I'd say, as far as enjoying the blossoms of Magnolia x. soulangiana, my timing couldn't be more perfect.  I always love flowering trees most when half the petals are on the ground, and half still on the tree.

Strangely enough -- and I've never noticed this before with saucer magnolia -- but the landscape smelled a little like pizza.  Now then, maybe I was just hungry, but I think when the petals start to decay they have a slight aroma of parmesan.
 

I love the boldness of using so many of this tree, and against the brick, the petals weren't even that slippery (on smoother surfaces they can be like banana peels).   The shots above are at the entry to the Moongate Garden, which was part of the renovation of the Enid Haupt Gardens in 1987. 

In the photo above is the Moongate itself (there are actually two in the garden).  It's hard to read thsi time of year since the pink granite blends so well with the Magnolia petals.  Below is a more clear shot. 

Approaching the Moongate, the paving changes to granite with notches of Belgian block.  The Moongate Garden is inspired by the Temple of Heaven, built in Beijing during the Ming Dynasty (14-17C).

The round granite stone placed in a square pool represents heaven and earth.   The square is earth, heaven is the circle. Strangely enough, I can't find much written on the symbolism of the four pathways to "heaven."  Below, they are represented as stone bridges over the water.  At the actual temple, they are entry points to the circular landform.  

Perhaps the use of four here isn't as deliberate as the circle and square, but the concept of four being a symbolically rich number is prevalent.  The number four appears often in Hinduism and it's believed in that religion there are four paths to meet God.  The garden of Eden was believed to be accessed by four different rivers and, as such, many gardens mean to represent Eden have four waterways included in the design.  In Buddhism there are four noble truths.   In Islam, there are four sacred months and four archangels. In Judaism, during passover, there are four cups of wine to be drunk, four sons to be addressed and four questions to be asked.

Finally, perhaps most darkly -- there are four horsemen of the apocalypse...!

Phlox stolonifera

Yesterday, my sister and another friend of mine ran the George Washington Parkway Classic -- a ten mile race that begins in Mount Vernon and ends in Old Town Alexandria.  It was kind of a gloomy morning - but by the time the race was ending the sun began to peek out.  Walking to brunch, I stopped to take a picture of this:

The flower itself may look familiar if you happen to remember my three-year-old post on NYPAOS about Phlox paniculata.  This is indeed a Phlox as well: P. stolonifera.  Clearly enough, it's called stolonifera because the plant spreads by stolons -- or adventitious stems that trail along the soil layer and eventually establish roots. 
 

The plant is quite similar to moss phlox, or P. subulata, though that plant is farm more prostrate, growing along the ground in a flat dense carpet.  They are both native to the US.  P. stolonifera is found in the Piedmont region, along streams or under the forest canopy.  P. subulata is more likely to be observed from the mid-Atlantic towards the western side of the Appalachian on exposed banks or slopes.
 

To confuse matters further, this plant could very well be P. x procumbens, which is a cross of the two species!

Pachypodium

Since yesterday's post was on Vinca minor, a member of the Apocynaceae family, I thought I would post today on one of Vinca's odder relatives, Pachypodium.  I won't distinguish a species, however since I'm not so good at spotting the differences between P. lealii and P. brevicaule, though the former is more common in southern Africa and the latter is specific to Madagascar.

 

Pachypodiums are desert plants and you don't have to be a plant nerd to assume that the water the plant needs to survive drought is stored in the trunk.  Below, you can see the flower is not too different from Vinca.  
 

Though we think of elephants when we hear the word "pachy" - that's really Latin for "thick."  Thus, pachyderm means thick skin.  Pachypodium means thick foot (I suppose the "foot" in this case is the swollen trunk).

Drunken Birds

A few weeks ago in class I related a story to my students regarding the berries of Cornus florida.  After the first frost (or soon after) the juices in the berries of the tree ferment.  The birds then flock to the tree and eat them, consequently getting a bit drunk and falling out of the tree.  I've seen this happen at my folks' place on the occasional lazy Sunday when I was growing up and it's pretty remarkable. 

After class, one of my students asked me where I had heard documentation of this phenomena (a fair question!) I remember hearing something, perhaps on All Things Considered about the dogwood specifically, but I went looking on line. And while I didn't find much specific to Cornus, there is no shortage of reports of birds getting drunk on fermented Hawthorne, Photinia and other plants.

It seems the cedar waxwing has the most tendencies to enjoy a tipple. In 2005, USA Today reported that in Columbia, SC, dozens of the birds died by accidentally flying into glass buildings after eating fermented holly berries.  The same species was reported drunk and disorderly in Memphis in 2009, as indicated in an AP report.  And, just this past winter, in Romania, dozens of dead starlings were found in town.  They were autopsied and it was determined they got drunk on grape 'marc' which is a leftover pulp in the winemaking process.

Of course all this talk about bird death brings to mind the blackbirds that had been found dead in shocking numbers in Arkansas.  According to Science News, they died of blunt force.  Some speculation exists that a noise disrupted and scared them after dark.  They are not good nighttime navigators and thus may have crashed into buildings, trees or each other and then died.

As for the partying I saw on my parents' dogwood, fortunately the tree was quite small so the birds weren't injured when they fell off the branches. 

Vinca minor

These pics were also taken during the run I mentioned in yesterday's post.  I had passed by this modest little stand of Vinca minor several times already and kept putting off getting a few pictures of it.  Honestly, I thought I'd encounter a better use of this common groundcover...but why put off til tomorrow what you can do today?

As I mentioned, this plant is often used as a groundcover, actually, I think it's only used as a groundcover.  And as far as groundcovers go, I rank this high above Pachysandra or Hedera helix.  The flowers are pretty in the spring, much more attractive than Pachysandra and it's not likely to take over your landscape (and buildings) the way English ivy would. 

 

That said, it is noted by some as invasive, though I've personally discovered its relative, Vinca major 'Variegata' to be far worse.  My folks put some in planters in their backyard once and in the fall, dumped the soil, which contained a few of the variegated vines.  They overwintered and began to colonize the backyard.  We're steadily removing them now.  

Vinca is in the Apocyanaceae or dogbane family.  The flowers are fairly distinctive among this family which includes Plumbago auriculata and Alyxia ruscifolia.

Salix babylonica 'Bablyon'

Yesterday, temperatures in DC reached the upper 70's and even 80° in some areas!  This was why I moved back to the area.  Enough of winter, or even chilly temperatures.  The warm weather called for a run along the Potomac, where the weeping willows (Salix babylonica 'Babylon', perhaps) have just begun to leaf out.  

Apologies for the unfocused pic below - I was after all, on a run and didn't stop for too long to take pics.  But you should still be able to see the long, narrowly lanceolate leaves which are also slightly serrated.  The plant is in flower too and on some specimens you can observe bright green catkins emerging.

The leaves on Salix are the one of the first to emerge in the spring and one of the last to drop in the fall.  Even when they aren't present, however, the bark makes this tree fairly recognizable.  Gray bark, with deep fibrous fissures and an overall corky appearance, is specific to this plant. 

I hedged my bets when I called this tree "Salix babylonica 'Babylon' perhaps."  That's because willows are difficult to accurately identify.  They easily hybridize within the genus, so this could be a strange cross of Salix alba (white willow), a weeping cultivar of Salix alba (like 'Tristis') or a cultivar or Salix babylonica (weeping willow).  It could even be Salix x blanda (Wisconsin weeping willow).  I have called it as Salix babylonica 'Babylon' because, according to Dirr, the true species is quite rare - he even muses that it no longer exists. And this is clearly a weeping form. 

 Finally, we can't talk about this plant, without mentioning the 1932 song written by Ann Ronnell. It's been covered countless times, but I love the Willie Nelson version, accompanied by Tin Hat Trio.  You can listen to the track here.

Weeping willow tree
Weeping sympathy
Bent your branches down along the ground
and cover me
Listen to me plea
Hear me willow and weep for me
Willow, willow, weep for me

Balcony Landscape

Immediately after moving into my new place last December, I began to design a landscape for the very small balcony space.  The dimensions of the space are about 5'x10' so there isn't much room.  I also decided I was not going to get into dealing with veggies -- the space is too small.  Instead, I began thinking of ways I could get as much mileage out of the plants I selected -- I wanted a big visual effect, without cluttering the space and losing square footage for furniture.

Imagine my pleasure when I saw that these 7 gallon containers (from the boxwood I planted at my folks' place) fit so perfectly in this vinyl chest I found at target.  The chest was being sold as a storage container for seat cushions and other outdoor furnishings, but by unscrewing the lid, it make a great planter.  It's also far cheaper than getting a custom fiberglass trough (something I was idly considering).  The chest's bottom sits about 1.5" above the ground, so I filled tupperware containers with styrofoam peanuts to support the weight of the pots and not destroy the "planter's" bottom.

As far as the plant selection, as I had considered in an earlier post, I decided to use Forsythia.  All the reasons I'd avoid using this plant in a landscape made it a perfect candidate here: I wanted something that was inexpensive, fast growing, drought tolerant, cold tolerant (I'm hoping they overwinter in the pots due to the warmer balcony microclimate) and something that could be worked as an espalier plant.  I have yet to see an espalier Forsythia but I knew the plant was "bendy" enough to handle being wired to the trellises I had bought at Home Depot. Eventually, I will pick up some moss to cover the pots and further the illusion that this is one unified trough planter.

Last of course, lighting.  The building doesn't have GFI's on the balcony and I didn't want to have the wall mounted fixture on -- it's glaringly bright.  The perfect solution: solar powered twinkle lights. I bought one strand and tested it for a week or two -- it seemed to collect enough sunlight to power the battery until around 3AM.  After a few nights, I bought another string. 

It's hard to see in the photo above but they do cast a lovely soft glow, definitely enough to see the face of the person you're sharing a glass of wine with.  I still need to putter around with a more careful placement of the individual bulbs, but I foresee many pleasant summer nights on this balcony! The photo below is a night shot, but with a flash.

I need furniture, but I haven't quite decided what I want yet.  I'm thinking metal bistro table and chairs for meals and working, but haven't found a set I love.  More on that to come.  Overall I'm quite happy.  The forsythia is pleasant enough in the spring but I'm looking forward to having a green wall all summer long.  I also am enjoying the instant effect that comes with its size.  Finally, as frequently as I travel, I am fairly certain this will weather drought.  And since I may not be in this apartment for long, I won't be disappointed when I demo this, as I may have if it was an espalier apple or magnolia.