Magnolia acuminata

This, reader, is your first peek at where I am living now.   It is also the only peek you are gonna get of the grounds, as the lawn is ridiculously bad (and I don't really care about turf) and the plant collection is pretty typical.  But I did notice this specimen walking the other day and was excited to introduce to you (at least via this blog) Magnolia acuminata or Cucumbertree Magnolia. 

As a straight species found in its native habitat of the Appalachian, M. acuminata is not very showy.  It's one of the largest of the Magnolias and one of the most cold hardy, but the flowers are typically diminutive. Cultivars like this one have been bred for better display of the creamy yellow blossoms that occur in early/mid-spring.  A popular cultivar these days is 'Yellow Bird.'

It's called Cucumbertree Magnolia because the seed heads when they are still ripening, resemble cucumbers.  I'll try to be watchful for them on this specimen and share more photos then!

Lindera benzoin

Here's another plant from my class last Saturday: Lindera benzoin or spicebush.  Spicebush is a plant that can easily be missed during the summer and winter, but during spring, when it's in bloom, and fall, when it shows off its amazing fall color, you cannot miss it. 

The fall color is a clear honey yellow on large ovate leaves with entire margins.  The leaves themselves could be confused with other plants, but it's easy enough to confirm that you are looking at Lindera by crushing and smelling the leaves.  They will emit a spicy, lemony scent.  Thus the name spicebush.  The twigs and fruits are equally fragrant.

This specimen must be a male, as otherwise, we'd likely see the red berries that typically appear in late summer/early fall.  Instead, we can only see the flower buds for next spring.  The plant is an important species for survival of the spicebush swallowtail, which lays eggs on the plant.

Spicebush has a long history of medicinal uses by Native Americans and is now available commercially for homeopathic uses.  The leaves, when crushed, can be used as a poultice for burns or cuts.  The plant can also be used for flavoring food and for making a tea.  Lindera is derivative from from the botanist Lindler; benzoin is derivative of the Middle French word 'benjoin' which means 'Java Frankincense' and referring to the spicy aroma of the plant.

Scutellaria resinosa

Last Tuesday I was giving my students a tour through Bartholdi Park and was a bit stumped by this plant.  The square stems and the bilaterally symmetrical flowers are good clues it is in the mint (or Lamiaceae) family, but what genus?

 

Luckily, I was able to email someone at the USBG and send them the shot.  A few hours later I got the answer -- Scutellaria resinosa or prairie skullcap.  Scutellaria means saucer or shield shaped and refers to the larger lower petals of the flowers.  These lower petals are designed to aid in seed dispersal, particularly during rain.  When petals are struck by rain drops, they catapult seeds off the plant. This makes beautiful sense for a plant that is native to dry prairie grasslands: the seeds only leave the plant when it rains, which is when they have the greatest chance of germinating.

There are differing explanations for the name skullcap -- some say the white markings on the petals resemble a skull (seems like a stretch to me); the other explanation attributes the saucer shape of the petals as looking like the bone we call the skullcap.

White Oak

Since we're on the topic of oaks, what with Tuesday's post on red oak, it seemed appropriate to follow up with another oak species, the white oak, or Quercus alba. 

Quercus alba is a native forest tree found in the United States from Maine to Florida and west toward Minnesota and Texas.  It's a slow-growing tree and its high sensitivity to compaction makes it a little-used tree for ornamental applications.  It's also a tell-tale pH indicator.  Chance are, your soil is acidic in the presence of this (and other) oaks. 

And, as you can see, the fall color is excellent.  I think this, along with scarlet oak (Q. coccinea) are among the best of the genus for fall color.  Unlike the red oak, white oaks have rounded lobes, though the depth of the sinuses is quite similar. 

The bark is much shaggier-looking than red oak, and has a silvery gray sheen to it.  The common name, white oak, is referring to this light-colored bark.  Like the red oak, it is fairly easy to identify in the winter.  In addition to the tree's beauty, the white oak is very important in a manufacturing capacity.  The wood is used for furniture, flooring, boat building and for wine and whiskey casks.

Dirr writes, "Difficult to pen my emotional ties to this species," and I'm sure that sentiment resonates well with many people in the eastern states where this tree is ubiquitous.   He comments on the tree's beauty near Biltmore Estate, as well as along the Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia, which is not too far from where this specimen was growing (this is at my parents' place in northern Virginia).  After looking at this gorgeous display of fall color, contrasted against such a perfect November sky, I'm hard-pressed to disagree with him.   ...I may just have to revise my list.

Northern Red Oak

Below, to the right, is a shot of Lewisohn Hall, at Columbia University's campus.  I usually meet my students for the first time outside the doorway - our first class begins here.  (Obviously, this was taken last spring.)  It's a great place to introduce students to the subtle differences among trees.  Immediately flanking the portico are two small specimens of Acer palmatum.  This gives me a chance to talk about leaf orientation and explain that, among trees at least, an opposite leaf orientation is the first clue in identifying a species. 

 

After this, I have them study the two large shade trees in front of the building.  In the foreground we have Quercus rubra or northern red oak and in the background, Q. palustris, or pin oak.  Whereas most people would simply catalog them both as 'trees', some would know they are oaks.  A few would understand they are different species of oaks.  Finally, fewer still would know they are different species when there are no leaves on the trees to aide them.  But look closely, even in this photo, and it's clear the texture of the bark is different.

To me, red oaks are one of the easier trees to identify, sans leaves.  The bark consists of smooth, shiny furrows and rough raised ridges.  I describe it to students by saying it looks like someone has taken a butter knife or their thumbnail and gently carved the furrows in the bark.  The smooth shiny quality can reflect the sun brilliantly, too.  

Despite the common appellation, I think the fall color on red oak is fairly ho-hum.  You use this tree when you want a magestic, long-living shade tree, but not if brilliant fall color is your priority.

The leaves are (I hope) universally recognized as oak leaves, but differ from the popular leaf of the white oak (Quercus alba) because the lobes of these leaves are pointed.  The sinuses (the spaces between the lobes) are relatively shallow and the leaf itself is quite large, which means it can pose more of a litter problem than the aforementioned Q. palustris which has smaller leaves with deeper sinuses.

Top Five Native Trees For Fall Color

Some time ago, I received a very good suggestion to have a few blog posts with lists -- let's face it, we all love a good top five or top ten list.  (Mostly, I think because it gives us a chance to take issue with the author, but such is life.)  Since I've largely neglected the plant life on the East Coast, in favor of the Arizonan plants I have been learning about lately, I thought I'd offer up my top five native trees for good fall color. 

Number 5: Yellowwood (Cladrastis kentukea)

I suppose regular readers of NYPAOS may recognize some of these photos (and certainly the sentiment) from posts featuring these plants more fully, but let's please revisit this lovely shot of yellowwood in Central Park, right near the Plaza Hotel.  The tree is an underappreciated native that has beautiful yellow foliage in the fall.  In addition to this, the white pendulous summer blossoms and the stately habit make this a wonderful alternative to maples or oaks.

Number 4: Witch Hazel (Hamamelis sp.)

Witch hazel, like almost all other members of the Hamamelidaceae family, has remarkable, mottled red, orange and yellow fall color.  These small trees (or large shrubs if you prefer) have a broad spreading habit and also bloom very early in the year, providing a welcome sign of spring.  Other family members include Fothergilla and Corylopsis.

Number 3: Serviceberry (Amelanchier sp.)

Well, I can't imagine a day when I won't fanatically endorse any species of Amelanchier.  Whether you want a spreading large shrub (A. canadensis), a native tree (A. arborea), or a showier hybrid (A. grandiflora, lamarckii), serviceberries are showstoppers.  I love the cultivar 'Autumn Brilliance' for it's deeper orangey hue, but even the golden-orange more common in the shrubs is lovely.  As I've said many times, in the fall it almost looks as if the tree has been plugged into an electrical socket somewhere.

Number 2: Sugar Maple (Acer saccharum)

 

Not including sugar maple on this list would be like talking about baseball and not mentioning Babe Ruth (that's a reference in honor of my struggling Yankees*). Sure, some people will say that Babe Ruth was overhyped or deserves some kind of asterisk due to the times in which he played, but I doubt most can truly deny the galvanizing effect he had on people, even those who would not otherwise identify with baseball.  Sugar maples have amazing fall color and their regular, broad, symmetrical habit is majestic.

Number 1: Black Gum, or Tupelo (Nyssa sylvatica)

Despite the love I may have for sugar maples (or the Yanks for that matter), I had to save my number one ranking for Nyssa sylvatica.  Tupelos are not used as often as they should, largely because the tree has a tap root and is thus difficult to transplant in large sizes.  But a relatively new cultivar, 'Wildfire' can be transplanted more easily and is also more resistant to leaf spot.  The loose, low-branching habit is elegant, perfectly suited for tree climbing and lights up a landscape each autumn. 

There are many more native trees that have exceptional fall color, which helps make the case against using a bradford pear or a Norway maple (as if you didn't have enough reasons for that already!).  Some honorable mentions include:

            Sweet Gum (Liquidambar styraciflua)
            Sassafras (Sassafras albidum)
            Franklinia (Franklinia alatamaha)
            Dogwood (Cornus florida)
            Red Maple (Acer rubrum)

What else have I missed?  Any suggestions for killer fall color? 

Happy tree viewing!

Note: All of the photos in this post, except for the last one, were taken in Central Park.

*This post was written before game five.   Fingers crossed.

Aster simplex

Here are a few shots from this morning's run.  Aster simplex, or panicled aster.  The more current botanical name for this plant is actually Symphyotrichum lanceolatum, but its older name can still be applied.  As I've mentioned before, I think the word 'Aster' is decidedly less of a mouthful than Symphyotrichum. 

 

This specimen was found growing along an unmowed roadside and is very common this time of year.  It blooms in mid to late summer until the first frost.  It's not as showy as other asters, but you can buy seeds of the native plant from various sources.  To me, it's a great addition to a wildflower meadow and the small white flowers would be a great alternative to baby's breath (Gypsophila) for cut flower arrangements. 

Finally, like all members of the Asteraceae family, this flower structure is composed of disc florets and ray florets.  The disc florets are the very small yellow petals that compose the inside 'eye' of the flower.  They are the seed-producing flowers, whereas the ray florets (in this case, the white petals) are decorative; primarily present to attract pollinators.

American Smoketree

Last week I was tagging some plant material for a property in the District and spent the better part of the day at wholesalers in Maryland.  When I was at Manor View Farms, I was lucky enough to start a conversation with one of the owners.  It went something like this,

Me: "I think I checked on your inventory and saw you're out of Amelanchier but that's what I was hoping to get.  Something small, multistemmed, with good fall color."

Him: "Well, you could go with a crape myrtle..."

Me: "Yea...I really don't care for that plant.  There's nothing wrong with it, really, but I'm just sick of seeing it everywhere.  Maybe a Stewartia, or..."

Him: "Franklinia?"

Me: "Oh, for sure.  Love that plant!"

It turns out John and I had pretty similar tastes in plants.  We discussed our admiration for black gum, yellowwood, American hornbeam and others.  Soon enough, he was giving me a tour of their hundred-acre farm.  While driving around, I pointed out the tree below and inquired about it.

Turns out the tree is a native species of Cotinus, Cotinus obovatus.  I never knew there was such a thing.  As you can see it's more tree form and less of a large shrub.  Occasionally these leaders will fail, at which point the nursery cuts it back to the ground and starts growing it as a multistemmed shrub.  The flower set is not as heavy as Cotinus coggygria, but the fall color is reportedly far superior.  I was intrigued.  The plant's native range is is primarily in the mountainous regions of northern Alabama, Tennessee and Kentucky, though it reaches as far west as Oklahoma and Texas.

I have blogged about Cotinus on NYPAOS a few times, I'm always a touch ambivalent about it because it seems so alien to our indigenous landscape.  I have to say the tree-form habit of this species makes me warm to the genus considerably.  I will definitely look forward to an opportunity to use this in a planting.