I am still digging tropicals and other non-hardies at home. If the weather had not been so great I would be in deep double-dug doo-doo. As it is, I’m sort of leisurely going along – but admittedly starting to look over my shoulder for “real” November weather. Whether it was the cooler summer or the steady rains I don’t know but many plants did extra good this year. The Amorphophallus konjac got huge.

The Xanthosoma violaceum produced “pups”. A first for me.

Even a stroll around the IMA reveals horticulture rarities. One of the bananas Jim planted by the Rain Garden bloomed this year. Since that stalk will die anyway he just left it in the ground. The leaves look real sad but that bloom, that bloom thinks it can still make fruit. The middle of November and it is barely touched by cold.

These little yellow flowers would each develop into a banana in the perfect (tropical) climate.

Behind Deer Zink the containers still have variegated shell ginger (Alpinia zerumbet ‘Variegata’) looking great. On November 13!

On the Sutphin Mall Geranium ‘Rozanne’ demonstrates why I still am willing to plant it. Plenty of flowers on a plant that started blooming in May.

The woody plants continue to put on a show as well. Near the Formal Garden, European beeches glow in the afternoon sun. All that yellow holding back the gray of winter.

In the Overlook an oak and some viburnums seem to have color coordinated themselves.

So even though it is mid-November there is still plenty to enjoy and delight in the gardens. Why don’t you come and visit a spell?

I get to the point that I’m either begging for frost to come and take out the garden or begging for one more day above freezing so there won’t be any damage. Gardening schizophrenia. It doesn’t happen so much with things here at the IMA, but at home ….. well, that’s another story.
As if the gardening I normally do at my quaint little domicile isn’t sufficient to fill many of my waking hours, this year I decided to plant the entire backyard. Down went cardboard, paperboard, and paper feed bags followed by my special rabbit and chicken manure mulch.

Poof! The grass was gone. Unfortunately the dandelions, violets, and bind weed were not as cooperative and they accounted for at least half of my “turf”. But really the only serious weeding I had to do in these new areas was the bindweed. Next year there will be plenty of glyphosate sprayed on the beast. Because I’m going to have so much more free time? Who the hell am I kidding? Whatever. Hopefully I will manage to get a good spray program going because pulling the damn things does not work.
Perhaps the truly scary part of all this is the fact I was able to fill nearly all that space.

It’s hard to believe I once thought it was too much area. Not true. Not true at all. By the end of August, I was searching for more open ground. By early September I finally kind of gave up, though I am sure I will put a few more things in the ground about ten minutes before frost hits. I really am crazy! Why didn’t you people tell me?

Overall, I have been pretty-well pleased with the results. My new dahlias grew and bloomed beautifully.

My tomatoes went in late, but got huge.

My favorite is the variegated one that Gwyn gave me. That’s a feral petunia with it. They just show up every so often.

Even the fruit is variegated.

The Colocasia ‘Thai Giant Strain’ got fairly gigantic, almost six feet tall, but I know I can get it bigger.

And it has a lovely bloom.

I didn’t feel there was quite enough color, so I enhanced some Paulownia stems with paint (Mango Madness).

Then to give everything a little sparkle, a scattering of wine bottles, blue mostly.

Anyway, soon I will be having to answer the question that we all must face this time of year when the all-knowing weather forecasters say temperatures are dropping near freezing – Do I cover everything with sheets?
“The forecast says 34.”
“That’s not actually freezing.”
“But it’s only 2 degrees off.”
“Is it cloudy?”
“Any wind? Wind helps.”
“Unless it blows the sheets off and it drops to 31!”
“Aw crap! Because you know, you just know. After this one frost it’s going to be 70 for the next three weeks. “
“But I just want to get it over with. Let it die.”
“But if I cover it this one night I might have dahlias til Thanksgiving.”
If you haven’t lived it, well then, you just can’t understand it.
And if all that isn’t enough, when one finally decides it is time to give the garden over to Jack Frost and his evil sister Wanda Winter, one then must decide whom to save whom to leave to die. Gardening is not for the weak or the meek. But bi-polars do very well.

image courtesy of neatorama.com

I admit these temps are not ideal for maximum growth on my precious tropicals but for everything else (including me, okay, especially me) it’s fantastic. The Hydrangea paniculata ‘Kyushu’ along the mall has never been so happy. Not that they have looked bad other years. It’s just they look extra full this year.

The Sedum ‘Black Jack’ and ‘Matrona’ on the tunnel at the IMA entrance suffered in the spring with foliar disfigurement from fungus but now are glorious in their fall bloom, all covered in an assortment of bees (many of them of the honey variety).

I had not planned to have a mix of these two but nature thought otherwise. ‘Black Jack’ is a very dark burgundy mutation of the gray/green flushed with burgundy ‘Matrona’. But it is a rather unstable mutation and ‘Black Jack’ very easily reverts back to ‘Matrona’. Kinda like a politician heading to church on Sunday morning after a Saturday night full of debauchery in the clubs. Anyhow. We are now in September and the temps should begin cooling regardless of the summer weather pattern. The last several weeks before frost are the glory days for one of my favorite plants, dahlias. Though they bloom nicely all summer, it is here in the autumn when the sun looses a bit of its power and the nights cool that dahlias really start pumping out the blooms. It seems they are at their absolute zenith when the first frost hits. And I’m okay with that. Afterall, they have been blooming since July or earlier. Let the frost blacken them and send them off to their winter sleep. Come spring we will start all over again.

Dahlias were brought to Europe over two centuries ago from there homeland in Mexico and Central and South America. It was nearly 200 years before that when the Spanish conqusitadors first saw them in Mexico. The tubers were first tried as food. The Europeans found them rather bland though I think the petals will work nicely in a salad or as a decoration. After the food thing didn’t work out so well the blossoms were looked at and declared pretty enough for the garden. The modern dahlia was created using up to seven different species mostly from Mexico and Guatemala. You rarely find the species type today with the exception of the tree dahlia. Which as it turns out may be two distinct species, one white the other lavender. The tree dahlias can reach 25 – 30 feet in height but they take a long time to bloom so success this far north may not come every year. Nor will those heights. You can find more information in great detail from the American Dahlia Society. We grow several older cultivars here at the IMA. I think of them as justified and ancient.

Many of these came from Old House Gardens, a mail-order nursery that specializes in heirloom bulbs (and tubers and rhizomes). They have Dahlia atropurpurea introduced in 1789 which I should try one day. But for now we have plenty of others. Jersey’s Beauty is from 1923. It’s one of out tallest growing cultivars. I’ve seen ours over 6 feet tall.

One of the heaviest bloomers is ‘Glorie van Heemstede. It’s called a waterlily type because the flower shape is reminiscent of waterlily blossoms.

Another yellow but with small ball shaped flowers is ‘Yellow Gem’. This one dates back to 1914.

Introduced in 1944, ‘Sherwood Peach’ has the largest flowers of the heirloom varieties we grow. The big peach flowers have a hint of lavender in them with makes them all the more beautiful.

I first tried to just cut the fully open flower and leave the lateral buds. I couldn’t get enough stem for it to be useful. I now cut the stem longer and the lateral buds add can be cut off or left be. The heirloom that really brought dahlias back to forefront of current garden design beginning in the early to mid 90’s has to be ‘Bishop of Llandaff’ introduced in 1927.

The screaming scarlet flowers combined with black lacy foliage make it an absolute standout in the garden.

I’m quite certain it is in the parentage of most of the current dark leaved plants on the market including ‘Bishop’s Children’ (duh) and the Happy Single® series (They couldn’t find Happy Marrieds?) We have three that I just call by their color as they were purchased before individual names were given like Happy Single® Romeo™ from Proven Winners. Just look at all those trademark symbols. I call the ones we have simply Happy Single® red, lavender, and amber.

I wish I had space and time to go into the modern cultivars but I fear I may have said too much already. So much to tell you all about. All the plants I mentioned growing here can be found in the cutting garden adjacent to the IMA Greenhouse.

Uh-oh, somebody left the blog-o-graph in the Division of Environmental and Historic Preservation unsecured! Well, I am done cleaning Irvin’s and Geoff’s garden trowels so let’s see how this thing works…

I don’t usually make my bed, but if I did I know I’d have to sleep in it. That’s kind of what happened when the rain garden project here at the IMA came along. Not to get too mired in details, but when a preliminary plan for this type of garden at another site on the property became unworkable, Chad Franer, Horticulture Manager, asked the staff for suggestions for another location. Before I could slap my hand over my mouth, the words had already dribbled down my stubbly chin and onto the table: “annual border.”

For those of you unfamiliar with the designations for sub-areas around the campus, this is a garden bed running along the northeastern edge of the greenhouse parking lot which has traditionally been planted with annual and tropical plants. Make that “was”. After a single season of being under my complete control, I had just suggested eliminating a parking lot paradise in favor of a utilitarian system for dealing with storm water. I looked over at Irvin, one of my inspirations for all things shiny and sparkly, and thought I saw his eyelids narrow and his lips mouth the words “you will PAY for this!” Actually, I wouldn’t -because somebody else was going to pick up part of the tab! Still, I knew I would have to face the accusations of betrayal by the Chanteuse of Chartreuse. As quickly as the thoughts congealed in my head, I babbled on and on to Mr. Etienne about how I would transform the beds along the fence in front of the greenhouse into the “new” annual border, complete with bold foliage, contrasting textures, and a riotous rainbow of color.

A reasonable compromise I thought, especially since it was already spring and the plants I ordered in the winter for the annual border would be arriving soon anyway. Disastrous wrath averted, I slinked back to my office to begin pondering the radical changes in store for this particular square footage. Honestly? At first I was intimidated by the prospect of designing from scratch a functional landscape feature of which I only had a rudimentary knowledge. I didn’t feel very passionate about it at the time either. Nonetheless, I set about researching these types of installations, drawing inspiration from a variety of sources. Thanks to the many other professionals involved, certain characteristics of this purpose-built landform were determined for me (Go Engineers!).

Beyond that, I (and my superiors) just wanted it to be aesthetically pleasing. This was accomplished (I hope) by sticking to the “right plant, right place” philosophy which requires matching plant tolerances with environmental conditions. Simply put, in lower elevations of the garden plants have to be amenable to occasional inundation as well as periodic dry spells. Mostly, native species made the cut, along with their cultivars and a few exotics (non-invasive ones).

How will it all work out? Only time will tell. Let’s just ignore the huge downpour which washed out a seven-foot section of the berm on the back side of the garden less than a month after it was constructed and planted (I can easily do that – I was on vacation that week!) On a final note, I would like to thank all the staff, volunteers, and outside organizations whose efforts helped make the new IMA rain garden possible. I hope y’all take pride of ownership in it. Hey, what’s this feeling coming over me? I love what we’ve created!

image from trendhunter.com

image from trendhunter.com

More often however designers are only inspired by plants when they are creating fabric for their work. That fact is the focus for the exhibition Fashion in Bloom put together by Niloo Imami-Paydar, IMA’s Curator of Textile and Fashion Arts. The exhibition opens Saturday April 4 and runs through January 30, 2010. The items in this exhibition go all the way back to the 1700’s, but the four I’m blogging about are from the late 1950’s to the 70’s.Mind you, as IMA Horticulturist Geoff Von Burg discovered when he developed a guide connecting flowers on the dresses with their botanical counterparts, the flowers are not always exact replicas of their living inspirations. Sometimes you just have to guess what the designer was thinking.

Is that a geranium? Or a rose? An anemone. No, maybe a cosmos?
Some however, are as obvious as a drag queen in size 14 stilettos. The bright flowers on this dress by James Galanos leave no doubt that it’s a field of hibiscus.

With the near-perfect shape of the petals and the large yellow protruding stamens, it’s practically a botanical print. Remember there are both tropical and hardy hibiscus plants. I’m sure the tropical variety inspired this fabric’s design.

image from phoenixplants.com

The tropical hibiscus comes in about every color but true blue and is Hibiscus rosa-sinensis. They make great summer plants here in the Midwest blooming constantly whether in containers or in the ground. They are easy to overwinter indoors and will even bloom if happy. The hardy ones, generally Hibiscus moscheutos and its hybrids, range from white to pink to red with the pinks and reds coming in palest pink to near burgundy. Some are now available with dark burgundy foliage as well. They die back completely each winter but come back up in late spring to bloom by mid-summer. In our gardens we have ‘Ruby Dot’ at the 42nd Street Bridge, ‘Intense Pink’ in the Dick Wood Formal Garden, and ‘Plum Crazy’ in front of the Madeline F. Elder Greenhouse.

The flowers on this dress by Indiana’s own Norman Norell must be zinnias …. or dahlias ….  or mums.

image from howstuffworks.com

I like to think of them as zinnias since they are the quintessential summer flower in the Midwest and this dress just screams summer. And they can be found in all the bright colors shown on the fabric. Zinnias are one of the easiest of summer annuals to grow, full sun and decent drainage and they are happy. You can choose from shorter varieties such as the Zahara series I’m using this year around the Sutphin Fountain or the taller more traditional types I used to use in the cutting garden like the Benary’s Giant Series or the hot ‘Uproar Rose’.
I have to include the psychedelic influenced Bill Blass design in the show because the leaves make me think of coleus.

image from gardenguides.com

And really, why even get up in the morning if you aren’t going to think of coleus? Coleus are fabulous in the ground and in containers plus they can be used in the shade and the sun. There are precious few colors not included in their leaves. All you have to do is shop around for the one that fits best with your other plant colors. That’s color from flowers or foliage. Other flowers I see in this fabric are Gazania and Salpiglossis (painted tongue).

The last dress I want to mention is this 1970’s velvet number by Hanae Mori.

The beautiful pink cherry blossoms made me instantly think of the flowering almond (Prunus triloba var. multiplex) ready to bloom right now in the Southwest Border Garden.

Flowering Almond

Long time gardeners may recognize its similarity to the dwarf flowering almond (Prunus glandulosa), a much smaller spring blooming shrub that has fallen out of favor. The flowering almond is one of the earliest spring blooming shrubs, well before its leaves unfurl. It gets rather large, 12 to 15 feet, but can be pruned to maintain a slightly smaller stature. It is another of the woody plants that are great for forcing into bloom in late winter. You just cut a few branches, put ‘em in a vase, and in a few days you have gorgeous double pink flowers brightening the gray winter days. Like most Prunus species it prefers lots of sun.

I suggest you take some time to see Fashion in Bloom then take a stroll through our gardens to see how many similar flowers you find there. Or take a walk in the gardens first then see the show. Just do both and make yourself happy for awhile ( and Niloo, and me, and all the other horticulturists).

By the way, the redbuds (Cercis canadensis, C. reniformis, and C. chinenesis) are in very heavy bud just ready to burst into full bloom. Get your butt over here in the next couple weeks and check them all out.

Speaking of laughing, this made me laugh out loud – for a good while.

Anyway, back to the gardens.

The Hellebores are probably less than thrilled with the temps but they are stalwarts of the winter garden. They will be vital for that touch of green in January and their late winter blooms save us from despair after weeks of gray skies. Helleborus x hybridus foliage is still deep green and unblemished at this early date.

Underground are the flower buds that will emerge with the first warm weather in February. H. foetidous is in bud right now and if it doesn’t turn too bad could be in full bloom in December. Otherwise it will be mid to late winter. Here’s H. f. ‘Gold Bullion’ on Oak Island.

This will be its first winter here. The blooms are definitely yellow, not green like the species, and the foliage is chartreuse. It comes true from seed so I am hopeful it will be happy and self-sow profusely. Italian arum – Arum italicum (see why I prefer you learn scientific names?) is in its foliage glory right now. If the weather doesn’t get too severe it will remain good for many weeks.

Earlier these plants had a beautiful display of red-orange berries. There are other cultivars available, just a little hard to find.

Crabapples are loaded with fruit right now. Actually many of the newer cultivars hold their fruit until late Spring. They come with yellow fruit as well as the more traditional red. Two yellows we have are ‘Canary’ over at Newfield and ‘Bob White’ at the 40th Street entrance. Here’s ‘Bob White’ on the left and ‘Canary’ on the right.

The shot of ‘Canary’ helps explain why the yellows are not as popular. They don’t hold their color as long as the reds. One of the best reds is SugarTymeTM (‘Sutyzam’), planted along the drive to Newfield.

As a point of interest, the only difference between crabapples and appleapples is the size of the fruit (I am being sooooo good right now). If the fruit is over 2 inches the tree is considered an apple. They share the same genus name, Malus, and most are complex hybrids.

When I went to out to take some of these images I found a few more things. A common witchhazel, Hamamelis virginiana, with petals still holding on.

Euphorbia amygdaloides v. robbiae, wood spurge or Mrs. Robb’s Bonnet, is still underused.

And the twig dogwoods are already showing the promise of great winter color in the landscape.

So while the weather isn’t ideal there is still much going on in the gardens. And really even on a cold day, if it’s sunny, it is quite nice out. By all means keep visiting. You can always warm up in the greenhouse if your fingers and toes get cold (they have lots of shiny sparkly things in addition to plants). I’ll be seeing you somewhere between the frost and the sunshine. Well, actually, I’ll be in my office a lot the next few weeks. Surrounded by tropical plants.

There is THE SUPPLIER THAT CANNOT CALL to let you know the plants you ordered, well, they are not necessarily the plants you are getting. The guy calls the afternoon before the plants are supposed to be delivered and says something like, “We couldn’t find the Salvia ‘Caradonna’ so we had to sub with Salvia ‘May Night’. Hope that isn’t a problem”. And you knew this for how long? And you didn’t think we should know this? In a similar vein there is the call that goes, “That Alternanthera ‘Mai Tai’ you ordered is a great looking plant. Beautiful colors in the leaves. But we had some problems with a fungus. The good news is we do have 6 of the 23 flats you ordered. Hope that works for you”. Hope you get hit by a big red truck.

Then of course you have THE PLANT THAT WOULD NOT LIVE. It’s something that you have seen grow happily a hundred other places but in your garden it dies the minute you put it in the ground. Or worse yet, it lingers on and on languishing in a slow spiral of death. A friend will call and tell you how theirs is now three feet tall and “just covered in the most beautiful cobalt blue flowers I’ve ever seen”. You look out the back window and see yours – barely alive, maybe a foot tall, rusty brown edges on the leaves, a squirrel is biting off the one flower bud on the sad plant. For a second you can’t decide what to do, shoot the squirrel or shoot your friend. The other half of this double feature is THE PLANT THAT WOULD NOT DIE. Bindweed. Need I say more? I think I would rather fight thistles. Every little root piece of bindweed can become a plant. It’s impossible to dig out, requires multiple shots of herbicide, and who know how long the seed is viable. Just laying there in the ground waiting, waiting for that moment when you aren’t looking and then…….

Red fountain grass (Pennisetum setaceum ‘Rubrum’) has been around for nearly two decades. By around I don’t mean like your sister. I mean it has been readily available – that sounds kinda like your sister too. What I mean is you could find it for sale fairly easily (your sister again, I’m sorry). Let’s just move on. This year a variegated form of red fountain grass became available called ‘Fireworks’.

This version has vertical stripes in shades of cream, pink, and red through the burgundy leaves of the grass. The cream doesn’t last too long and changes to the pinks and reds. My plants didn’t get quite as big as the old variety but that could have been nurture rather than nature. ‘Fireworks’ fountain grass is definitely worth repeating.

Cannas are one of my favorite plants. Period. I love their foliage and their flowers, sometimes one more than the other. It just depends on the cultivar. This year I planted ‘Orange Punch’. Grow this one for the flowers. They are intense. The individual blossoms are quite large and a stop-you-in-your-tracks fluorescent orange with a bright yellow throat. An added bonus is the way the flowers are presented. Unlike the usual upright canna flower spike, ‘Orange Punch’ flower spikes curve downward or to the side as they develop. You get a sort of weeping flower stalk. Very nice. Foliage is green with a hint of burgundy at times. Mine topped out at around 4-5 feet tall, a very easy size to use in any garden situation.

Bananas are a favorite garden plant for me as well. And more and more are being made available (My lands! Your sister again. It’s simply uncanny). One of my new favorites is Musa ‘Siam Ruby’. To be truthful I tried it last year in a pot but this year I was able to put a couple in the ground. At first glance the untrained eye would suggest another zebra banana. But it is not. ‘Siam Ruby’ is a deeper red color and more of the leaf is red. It also pups very nicely so hopefully you have a few more next spring.

I hope all of you experimented a bit with the garden as well. There is no reason not to try a new plant (or seven) each year. Just think how much your sister has experimented. She’d be so proud of you.

Personally I don’t think a date on the calendar brings bad luck. Frequently what appears to be bad luck is actually the result of bad judgment. When I rear ended the car in front of me many years ago it wasn’t bad luck. It was stupidity. Why did I take my foot off the brake at a red light? Maybe I was distracted by the Scotsman in the other bucket seat. When I don’t have a presentation ready and I have an article due and a blog to write – all on the same day, it isn’t bad luck. It’s procrastination (I almost said procastration. Entirely different. And as a general rule I am not but sometimes…..) We make much of our bad luck in my opinion. So on this day that is rife with superstition I’m looking at why this is a GOOD day.

I am alive. Therefore I can still change things that I don’t like about various aspects of my life and world. I have a job I love.

Part of the reason for that is I work with a group of people that in many ways are one of my many families. Which means moments of “Get out of my face or else!” and moments of “What would I do without you?” Just yesterday so many of them helped me get caught up with my own areas that I can take a breath now. And they are talented designers as well. I think Katie’s pots at the Lilly House with the beautiful foliage in coppers, bronzes, burgundies and golds accented with deep purple and orange flowers are going to be great. They are looking good already.

I’m anxious to see how everyone’s designs turnout as the season progresses. The tall plants in that image are Euphorbia cotinifolia, sometimes called tropical smokebush. Purple smokebush, Cotinus coggygria ‘Royal Purple’, can be found on the north side of the main parking lot.

The connection between the common and scientific names is simple. The Euphorbia cotinifolia has leaves similar to the leaves of the Cotinus. So we have the specific epithet of cotinifolia, cotini – cotinus and folia – foliage. Foliage like cotinus. See? Euphorbia foliage on the left, Cotinus on the right.

It’s so simple.

I have wonderful mix of friends. Freaks, geeks, and uniques.
I like my biological family. It’s easy to love family but harder to like them enough you actually are willing to spend time with them.

I am planting lots of plants that are new to me in one way or another. New cultivars of species I’ve grown before as well as species completely new to me. This is a new cultivar of Colocasia esculenta called ‘Elena’.

It’s the first chartreuse elephant ear from this species. I think it will be beautiful. It’s chartreuse, of course it will be beautiful. Learning feels sooooo good.

I can listen to 2008 album releases from Dolly Parton – Backwoods Barbie (Bless her, she is a Barbie doll!), Madonna – Hard Candy (Oh yea, I want some of your Turkish Delight), and Donna Summer – Crayons (The queen is back). Any Grammy winners there? I don’t give a crap. Music is about what touches your soul or makes your booty bounce.

And lastly but not leastly, this is my momma’s birthday. I’d be a no-account son if I didn’t mention her when my blog entry falls on the same day. She would have been 88. Now perhaps I would have been born regardless of her existence (some things are just meant to be you know) but no doubt my love of gardening was greatly influenced by her. I’m sure she thought I was crazy and going to hell at the very least. But she never said too much. All in all we did fine considering how differently we viewed so much in the world. And we could always talk plants. She and zinnias are forever connected in my mind.