Trillium flexipes is blooming right now in surrounding woodlands. Photo by Anita Bracalente

Snow trillium can be found clinging in limestone rock crevices usually in a southern exposure where the rock face warms up quickly. Their single rhizome is found only a couple of inches below the thin layer of soil and produces a single stem and single white flower of three petals. Snow trillium can also be found growing on steep wooded hillsides, which sometimes makes them difficult to access for an admiring view. They also range in moist wooded bottom lands where flooding is a common occurrence.

Time is of the essence to admire the snow trillium. Their bloom lasts only about two weeks and once the yellow anthers are pollinated, the flowers quickly fade away and the short stature of the three gray green leaves is soon covered over by taller spring ephemerals. In a month the entire plant will completely disappear. But to see a colony of these white gems spread across stony outcroppings or scattered down a hillside is the first thrill of the season. I expect that Saturday, 5 April, was the last I would see the snow trilliums of this season. On that day we came upon one very large flowered form with pink venation in its petals and a blush of pink on the reverse.

Another early perennial native that often colonizes with the snow trillium are hepaticas, which are now overlapping in bloom. On one stone table there was a colony of snow trillium, a colony of Hepatica triloba and rising between the two was a colony of Trillium recurvatum with its modeled leaves.

T. recurvatum belongs to the group of sessile type trilliums, meaning stemless, where the three upright flower petals arise directly from the triad of mottled leaves. These red flowered natives are spread abundantly throughout all of Indiana, save for the extreme northeast corner of the state. I found it a little surprising to find this colony sprung straight out of this tabletop rock, its buds as yet tightly closed.

This is such a common spring wildflower in Indiana, finding home in clay soils often found growing within sunny meadows as well as moist rich woods. I find them readily mingling amongst Jack-in-the-pulpits, Virginia bluebells, false rue anemones, wild hyacinths, Camassia angusta and C. scilloides. It may be found growing near its similar relative T. sessile, which looks very similar with its three red flower petals, but fetid smell. Just don’t stick your nose in it, let the flies pollinate it instead!

T. recurvatum blooms in April. This year is slow, so we are perhaps ten days away from the red blossoms. I find T. recurvatum a most elegant plant with its slender re-curved flower petals and mottled leaves that seem to float in the air. It is not the least fussy to grow within the garden and we started with one plant so many years ago and it developed into a very nice colony. The removal of a tree did disturb our original colonies, but I see that this year we have about a dozen flowering size plants. Time will redistribute this prize.

The third trillium very common throughout our state and blooms in May in our area and possibly as late as early June in the northern part of Indiana is Trillium flexipes. This is a large robust looking plant with broader light gray-green leaves, which undulate slightly along the edge and clean white flowers with a creamy yellow anther. This drooping trillium typically forms the habit of the flowers being underneath the leaves, or resting parallel to the leaves, but as the epithet suggests flexipes refers to the bent or reflexed foot stalk or stem joining to the three flower petals. I have found some broad stands with some flowers erect. The flowers are not as large as another near cousin, T. grandiflorum, but those of T. flexipes stay on much longer and are heavier textured.

While the red flowered T. recurvatum may be found growing amongst the wild hyacinth their bloom times do not overlap, but T. flexipes and the hyacinth will bloom at the same time. It is quite a scene to see the woodland floor covered in the white drooping flowers with the upright light blue stalks of C. angusta in mid May. It is said that T. flexipes is fragrant and although I have been down on my knees to photograph them, I cannot say I noticed a fragrance.

These also grow on richly wooded slopes, or even higher up on a hillside with plenty of moisture. Limestone soils are usually abundant, making them a natural in many of our gardens. I suspect I may not have enough moisture in my own garden to make this species happy and so I have not tried to grow it, but those gardeners with a natural hillside should try this one at the bottom of a slope so long as plenty of leaf mold or rich compost is provided. An addition of ferns would help cover the bare ground once the trilliums go dormant for the season.

Munchkin Nursery in southern Indiana would be a good source for trilliums if local nurseries have no offerings.

Anita Bracalente is a garden designer, writer and lecturer with Jackson & Fourth Garden Design. She can be reached at 812.332.6042.

Hawthorn is one native tree that requires a spring planting. Photo by Anita Bracalente

Most of us generally think about planting a new tree or shrub when we are smitten by the color or bloom. For a fair number of our native trees, the optimum time for planting is spring. Many of our native trees are slow to root and need a long season of warm soils to set their roots in well. These trees include dogwood, Cornus florida, hawthorns, Crataegus spp., redbuds, Cercis canadensis, black gum, Nyssa sylvatica, tulip poplar, Populus spp. and the American yellowwood, Cladrastis kentukea. Although it is not native, the Zelkova serrata, which has become a magnificent presence gracing so many of our city streets, should also be planted in the spring.

As the dogwood and redbud are fading, hawthorn flowers are emerging with the accompaniment of the tiny new leaves. A mature hawthorn, Crataegus spp. is really a sight to behold when in flower. This year it’s a bumper crop of flowers which should lead to an abundance of red fruits in the fall. One of the thrills of the late fall landscape is to see silvery branches laden with red berries and witness a flock of migrating Cedar Waxwings descend on the tree. Even a small town garden can accommodate the hawthorn.

Hawthorn, dogwood, redbuds, and some other native trees thrive in alkaline soil, but none of these trees enjoy wet feet and all require adequate drainage. In their native range one will find dogwood and redbud dotting the higher reaches of slopes or at the edge of woods and drier upland forest. Hawthorns can be found on woods edge and often seeded in along fence rows and pastures in full sun. In our gardens these trees merely require decent drainage. If you garden on flat ground and you question whether your ground has good drainage, dig a hole and fill it with water and watch how quickly it drains. If the hole does not drain readily, it is probably not a good spot for these trees.

Other native trees which prefer slightly drier conditions or certainly decent drainage are Cladrastis kentuckea aka C. lutea, the American yellowwood tree, sugar Maples, Acer saacharum and beech trees, Fagus spp. These are also found naturally on upland forested areas or on slopes with rapid run off.

The American yellowwood tree, uncommon in trade but very common in our local Yellowwood State Forest, is a shade tree that should find a home in larger plots of ground as it reaches 40-50’ high with a slightly broader spread. The foot-long white panicles of flowers, now just emerging makes for a splendid sight in May and June. The yellowwood prefers dry conditions on the upper reaches of slopes along with the redbud and dogwood. The smooth silvery gray bark, which is very similar to the beech tree, offsets the creamy yellow and russet tones found in the autumnal hues.

Another tree which requires a spring planting but can handle low ground where it is naturally wet is the black gum, Nyssa sylvatica. These trees with their shiny green leaves, brilliant fall foliage of orange, red and yellow and waxy blue fruits thrive along stream beds and low areas. They can be found in drier conditions, too, in upland wooded areas. With their straight trunks, bending branches and long deep taproot, this tree makes an excellent specimen for the suburban plot. It must be planted small due to the long tap root which would not tolerate transplanting at a larger size.

The serviceberries, Amelanchier spp. can be found blooming in April along creek beds, rocky crevices and woods’ edge. They thrive in moist conditions, although they can tolerate drier locations. In late April multi-stemmed specimens were in bloom along Lake Griffy on fairly dry conditions and some overhanging the water. The blueberry fruits, which ripen in June, are as tasty as blueberries, if you can outwit the birds. Due to its small stature at 15-25’ it has found to be a successful street tree and excellent in a small garden.

While popular wisdom points to the fall planting of trees as temperatures cool and moisture is often abundant, not all trees respond successfully to this treatment, especially the majority of popular native trees.

Anita Bracalente is a garden designer, writer and lecturer with Jackson & Fourth Garden Design. She can be reached at 812.332.6042.

SUCCESSFUL PLANTING

Once you have obtained your tree, digging the planting hole properly is the key to success. Dig your hole twice as wide as the root ball and only as deep as the root ball. The base of the tree, which is called the flare, should be even at the soil level. With your shovel, loosen the soil around the bowl of the hole and carefully lower the rootball in tact with the burlap. Once placed in the hole and positioned, remove the nails and carefully peel back the burlap and leave it in the planting hole. Sometimes I carefully cut off the surplus. Leave the burlap on the bottom of the rootball. Be very careful not to break off the small fine white root hairs, these are the feeder roots. Crumble the soil back into the hole and carefully tamp down to extinguish any air pockets. Top mulch the area and water well. Water weekly to the depth of 1-2 inches by using the hose at a steady trickle for approximately 20 minutes. It is best to stake your young tree until well rooted in.

Artist A.R. Valentien at work. Photo courtesy IU Art Museum

California Rose is one of the 80 plant portraits in the exhibition. Photo courtesy IU Art Museum

For centuries and across all cultures gardeners, botanists, horticulturalists, artists, poets and collectors have sought after images of flowers through paintings, ceramics, engravings, watercolors and photography. As the dog days of summer descend upon us, we may find ourselves racing for the air conditioning rather than swatting pesky gnats in the humid garden. There is no greater time than now to visit the cool and quiet galleries of the Indiana University Art Museum, where you will see the California plant portraits of Albert R. Valentien, pronounced “Valentine.”

Albert R. Valentien (1862-1925) was born in Cincinnati, Ohio where he trained as an artist at the Cincinnati Academy of Design. To this day he remains the youngest student ever to have been admitted to the academy at the tender age of 16. He became the head designer of the Rookwood Pottery Company, Cincinnati. He was recognized with many awards over his 24-year tenure at Rookwood, even securing first prize at the International Paris Exhibition in the early 1900s. Valentien’s signed Rookwood Pottery is highly sought after by collectors and his work is found in such collections as the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, the Luxemburg in Paris and the Industrial Arts Museum in Berlin, besides museums in the United States.

In the tradition of the Arts and Crafts movement, Rookwood designers spent countless studio hours drawing and painting plants and other natural forms. This kind of rigorous exercise served Valentien well when he traveled to California after the Paris exhibition for a vacation with his wife’s family. He became smitten with the California landscape and the wildflowers and started painting the flora. By 1905 he and his sculptor wife, Anna, also a designer at Rookwood, quit their jobs and moved West to California.

Do not be put off by the theme of California plants. Forty-six of the eighty species represented in this exhibition are species shared in our own state. Valentien worked in gouache or opaque watercolor on gray buff paper which rendered a brilliance to the subtle shifts of color as any observer will find in nature. By Valentien’s own admission he actually knew nothing about plants or botany yet his eye was highly skilled for accurate detail and as he said he just “painted what he saw.”

Present day botanists have been able to identify each species and subspecies of Valentien’s plants. His eye was so complete and accurate that the botanists were able to identify some rare subspecies of cacti amongst his plant portraits, whose only identification is marked in the number and the subtle coloring of the stamens in the flowers to perfect accuracy! To the average viewer gazing upon the floral world, it is not just the accuracy but the sheer poetry in line, form, weight and volume that imbues Valentien’s paintings to complete enjoyment.

I do not pretend to know anything about California flora, but to read down the list of eighty plants, alphabetically, there is the California maidenhair fern, Adiantum aleuticum, which appears to be somewhat smaller and perhaps not nearly as elegant as our own A. pendatum, with its wiry stems. There is the California buckeye, Aesculus californicum looking similar to our own A. glabra and A. parviflora with their bottlebrush showy flowers. One plant that I envy from California is the Mariposa lily, where Valentien clearly enjoyed painting the subtle variations of the many subspecies of Calochortus. The delicate pastel petals offset with vibrant spots. I know some gardeners here that have planted these bulbs with success in a very warm and protected spot, although I have never ventured myself. If you are not familiar with calochortus, they are similar in look to our May poppies, although with smaller flowers. It would be fantastic if we could have poppies in the same coloration as these Mariposas.

There is a very pretty Ceanothus prostratus tomentosus, called the California lilac. We have Ceanothus americanus, the New Jersey tea, smaller flowers of lilac blue and it should be promoted more for our gardens.

I found the depiction of the native Coreopsis, tickseed, with its yellow rays tipped in white very similar to the newer hybrids of Coreopsis such as “Crème Brulee” which also has white tips. In Indiana we have Coreopsis grandiflora plus 22 species and subspecies of the plant.

Just coming into bloom in our garden is the native Clematis pitcheri with its dangling blue bells, but even showier is our C. viorna with its deep reddish purple waxy bells and white reverse. C. pauciflora, rope vine, is highly drought tolerant, and the flowers looking very similar to our autumn clematis.

Indiana can really cover the gamut of grasses with 373 or so species/subspecies of Panicums including P. capillare which is depicted in the exhibition. Less profuse, but always a thrill to me to see are Penstemons in the wild setting and also in the garden with their tall spires of flowers. The unique subspecies of Indiana, P. deamii is now very rare. Penstemon grinnellii and P. heterophyllus from California sport larger flowers than our natives and can be very showy especially in the hands of hybridizers but I found them to be a bit too tender in my garden.

For anyone who loves plants, even pictures of plants can spark a discussion amongst gardeners and enthusiasts. The exhibition is augmented with some rare botanical volumes on loan from the Lilly Library which tracts the historical evolution of both botany and botanical illustration. The IU Art Museum’s curator, Nan Brewer, also created a mini exhibition entitled “Blooming Town” with holdings from the Museum’s collections as it surveys how artists have used flowers throughout art history.

Anita Bracalente is a garden designer, writer and lecturer with Jackson & Fourth Garden Design. She can be reached at 812.332.6042.

Photo by Anita Anita Bracalente

The tiger lilies, Lilium lancifolium, are dominating the scene this week and they can be found at old home sites all over Bloomington. The upswept Turk’s-cap petals in deep sherbet tones towering on stalks at 4-8 feet are impressive and even flash unashamed with magenta phlox. These two garden stalwarts somehow survive old homesteads and neglected backyards where other less hardy souls have long since vanished. Last Saturday I witnessed just this scene and a hummingbird dropped in to try out the lily nectar and then swarmed the purple phlox, the whole vision like an animated Hawaiian shirt.

Lilium lancifolium, a.k.a. L. tigrinum, is one of the most prolific lilies we can grow. The strong stems soon colonize into impressive clumps. One stem can produce as many as 100 bulbils in the leaf axils and these tiny black bulbs soon drop to the ground and propagate. Purple phlox might not be your combination with this richly spotted orange lily, but mix it with tall ornamental grasses or amongst shrubs with copper or deep red foliage. Or try growing it with the yellow composites such as helianthus or rudbeckia. There is a caveat with this vigorous Asian species. Clumps can be infected with virus which does not often diminish the colony, but L. lancifolium can spread the disease to less vigorous lilies planted in the same bed by way of aphids. If this happens to your clumps, spray with plain water or some soapy water made with dish detergent. Keep this species isolated from other lilies.

If orange is not your thing there are other varieties of equaled vigor. One of my favorites of the group is L. lancifolium “Pink Tiger” with medium pink colored flowers with a sprinkling of maroon spots. L. “Salmon Twinkle” is salmon pink with a golden salmon throat and maroon spotting. There are also varieties of creamy white and creamy yellow, all of which sport the maroon spots.

Lilium “Black Beauty,” now considered an heirloom variety, is blooming now too. This is another lily that reaches 9 feet with very sturdy stems and soon forms impressive colonies. L. “Black Beauty” has the same Turk’s-cap form with deep crimson spotted petals edged with white and a green starburst throat, throat where the stamens thrust forward in an elegant spray. L. “Black Beauty” is a cross between L. speciosum x L. henryi and although the books indicate a light fragrance, it seems to be lost on my nose. This lily has never been attacked by aphids and so far as I can tell does not seem to suffer viruses that can affect other lilies. It is extremely hardy and is just now bursting forth in bloom. This one should also be planted with tall perennials or shrubs and relegate it to the middle or back of the border. Tall phlox, especially the pure white “David” fills in around the midsection of this tall lily and also picks up the sparkling white margins. I once had this lily planted amongst the variegated white Miscanthus “Dixieland” and the red Monarda “Cambridge Scarlet” to great affect.

Soon to give great fragrance in the garden are Lilium speciosum in pure white and L. speciosum rubrum with pink petals. Both of these lilies date from plants dug from my grandmother’s garden in 1987 and are of 3-4’ range. These, too, are very hardy.

Of the same sweet fragrance are perhaps the two most popular hybrid Oriental lilies: the pure white unspotted Lilium “Casa Blanca” and the deep pink white margined L. “Stargazer.” While the flowers of L. “ Stargazer” are drop-dead gorgeous, the large flowers on such short stems strike me as inelegant. L. “Stargazer” could possibly mingle amongst medium sized perennials or grasses, but I do find them stiff. L. “Casa Blanca” is taller and I find it easier to work with, blooming with phlox and midsized perennials.

There are so many hardy lilies to choose from which can offer great substance in the garden from early June to late August, yet I think that many gardeners are bit afraid to use them. Generally lilies like neutral soils such as we have, but like all bulbs, lilies cannot tolerate heavy clay. Planting beds therefore should be amended with composted materials such as shredded leaves and even builder’s sand to loosen the clay to ensure a good healthy start. Lilies do best planted in the fall. Spring plantings will yield shorter stalks and fewer flowers this first year. Lilies usually like full sun on their heads but protection at the base of their stalks. Shading from neighboring plants is useful as well as mulch.

With a small garden such as ours, the tall narrow stature of lilies works well for upright movement and so we have found them useful in numerous combinations. The upright Asiatic lilies, the Turk’s-cap Martagon lilies and the Madonna lilies all bloom the earliest starting in late May or early June with the rose season and early perennials. These are followed by the very tall and fragrant trumpet lilies, Lilium regale usually by mid-June along with the short bright scarlet L. pumilum. There is a long list of lilies for nearly every combination imaginable and I could not garden without them.

Anita Bracalente is a garden designer, writer and lecturer with Jackson & Fourth Garden Design. She can be reached at 812.332.6042.

Gaura is lovely but has requirements that few gardens can supply. Photo by Anita Bracalente

Gaura is another one of those plants. No matter where I place it in the garden, it rarely gives me a repeat performance the following year. It may be that it rots at the crowns in the winter. I have found that a southward facing slope where snow will rapidly melt off works well for other yards, but our garden sits at the bottom of the hillside where cold pockets persist and snow stays mounding. Covering the crowns with pine boughs may help, but I never get around to that!

My keen attraction for Gaura lindheimeri is that it offers constant bloom June until frost, the delicate flowers clinging alternate in long wands catching any breeze that may even inspire. Each delicate flower is either white with pink buds and pink stamens or some varieties, like Gaura lindheimeri “Siskiyou Pink”, “Blaze” or “Passionate Pink” which all have pink flowers. G. “Blaze” has the added attraction of having bronze foliage. The plant itself is low and bushy with the spray of flower stems continuously erupting. Its delicacy blends with just about anything, Russian sage, Perovskia, grasses, echinacea, coreopsis and even creating a delicate veil with daylilies. A mass planting of gaura interplanted with bulb lilies would set off the skinny legs of the lilies. A combination of Japanese anemones now coming into bloom mixed with gaura makes a divine combination.

There is a variegated leaf variety called G. “Corrie’s Gold” that I tried once. In one season that was it, and nada the next year. The foliage was a cream and gold edged outfitted with white flowers. Very lovely. If we look at gaura’s wants and needs, our garden fits most of it. Gaura prefers a neutral PH, which will be found in most of Monroe County. Good drainage we have, while many gardens with sodden clay do not; yet, I’ve seen this plant happy in gardens with such conditions with full sun and a hillside location, preferably south-facing. Full sun is optimum, but a little shade at the end of the day should be just fine. Once established, this is a drought tolerant plant with a very deep tap root. If your gaura is flourishing, don’t even think about moving it, because you will probably kill it trying to dislodge the long tap root.

Gaura made a serious appearance in nurseries in the 1990s. My first plant was purchased at a Michigan nursery in 1992. For northern gardeners gaura is not widely distributed in the nursery trade anymore because of its questionable hardiness.

I found no notice of it in the popular set of gardening books published from Time-Life in 1977 and edited by James Crocket, whose information is always solid. Gaura shows up with a small description in Landscaping with Perennials, Emily Brown, 1986, but I do not find the entry to be written with real conviction.

It is listed in The Standard Cyclopedia of Horticulture, Liberty Hyde Bailey, 1922, with the entry written by Wilhelm Miller, a now long-forgotten but great plantsman in his day. Miller does not give gaura an in-depth discussion of garden worthiness for Northern gardeners as G. lindheimeri resides in the Southwest and was probably not broadly distributed nearly 100 years ago. One can hardly believe the entries on the Internet, either, because those who grow it really successfully appear to live in warmer regions. Although I planted it in my sister’s Baltimore garden, it did not persist over many years there either. She loved it too but gave up on it.

Gaura does have a showing in Indiana. Of the eighteen species of gaura, five natives reside in Indiana with perhaps the biennial, G. biennis, being the most widely distributed. If it is to take up garden residence, this may be the most worthy in habit and form. It was my personal thrill that I came upon native G. biennis in a field last week with its tall stems of flowers flushed pink mingling amongst a tall Panicum whose near ebony- bronze plumes played beautifully with the flushed flowers. In fact, the delicacy of the light pink flower may have been lost in the vastness of the prairie setting had it not been for the bronze grass setting off the whole thing. In this same plant forb were several forms of goldenrod and joepye weed all in bloom. In this prairie setting the soil was quick draining and thin.

If one had a large sunny prairie garden, sowing G. biennis would be worthwhile for the late August garden. True, it would not give as long a season of bloom as G. lindheimeri, but the changing seasons of the garden is what gardening is all about.

There is no comparison for studied experience in making a plant flourish. If there are any gardeners reading this who have had persistent success with this plant in our area, I should like to hear from you and how you do it.

Anita Bracalente is a garden designer, writer and lecturer with Jackson & Fourth Garden Design. She can be reached at 812.332.6042

Succulents grow easily in trough planters. Photo by Anita Bracalente

Known as trough gardening, the craze may have begun in England in the first few decades of the last century when alpine and rock gardening were very much in vogue. Rock plant enthusiasts found new and decorative uses for stone watering troughs discarded from old farms to plant up precious alpine plants. Kew Botanical Gardens has a fine selection of old stone troughs lining the perimeter of their alpine house planted up with alpines, sedums and bulbs all of the diminutive scale.

These old stone troughs offer durability, a broad planting surface, and the opportunity to mix whatever soil composition the gardener wishes to devise to grow some favored plants. The troughs can be situated to take advantage of mini-microclimates such as a protected southern exposure allowing for a quick warm up in the spring. Rock gardeners typically mix a great deal of sharp sand or grit into soil to recreate the thin scree found on mountain slopes, but the gardener can choose the soil mix depending on the type of plants to be grown. The drain hole offers good drainage.

In a sunny position stone troughs offer an excellent way to showcase succulents and small bulbs. We have planted the very early bulb iris, I. reticulata with a multi-colored and textured carpet of succulents. Here is an opportunity to really enjoy small plants intimately which might otherwise be lost in the garden. Not requiring much water beyond what nature can provide, it is my hope that these irises may persist and even increase, whereas the same iris in our garden eventually diminishes as conditions are just too good in our garden loam.

As with many minor bulbs, especially those found on mountainous slopes, a good hard baking in the summer is required. This same trough is currently sporting a tender summer bulb, Bessera elegans, “Coral Drops,” with bright red flowers with a white stripe down the middle of the petals on 16-inch wiry stems. These knobby corms will need to be lifted soon, but currently offers a nice surprise of brilliant scarlet blooms. I inserted “Coral Drops” into our gardens but none of these flourished like the ones in the trough. For this time in the season the autumn blooming crocuses, C. speciosus and C. sativus would make for a nice autumn display poking up through the carpet sedums.

Troughs do not need to be situated in the sun. Our second trough sports some of the tiny hostas, which are often used as companion plants for bonsai. This trough situated in the shade needs a splash of watering now and then. These tiny hostas are increasing as they are protected from slug damage. Some of the varieties that we cultivate include H. “Pandora’s Box” with creamy white striped leaves and lavender flowers, H. “Cat’s Eyes,” an elegantly pointed leaf with a yellow slash down the middle and a blue-green leaved hosta, H. “Mouse Ears.”

There are other small hardy plants for shade that can work well too. Interspersed with the dwarf hosta is the dwarf meadow rue, Thalictrum kiusianum and our native partridge berry, Mitchella repens. I had grown this small ground cover along the edges of a shade garden, but soon other plants began to crowd it out. In nature it is found on shady thin upland rocky soil where few other herbaceous plants grow in competition.

Other choice plants for stone troughs are the slow growing dwarf conifers, but one would want a stone basin with at least the depth of 8-12 inches for sturdy root growth. Dwarf false hinoki cypress I think works best with their tight fisted forms. One of my favorites is Chaemaecyparis obtusa “Snowkist” with tight deep green foliage and random tips of creamy white. This shrub needs shade or the whites will scorch and will reach about 18 inches high and 10 inches wide in as many years. Of the C. pisifera groups, C. pisifera “Plumosa compressa” has a yellowish green cast very tight round head grows 14” x 12” in as many years as well as C. pisifera “Gold Dust” which reaches only 10 inches tall.

Over the years I have photographed all kinds and forms of stone troughs. I would not consider growing orchids in stone troughs, but in Brazil, where tropical orchids can find a permanent home in the trees as well as botanical gardens, massive cattlyas, cymbidiums, epimediums and other orchids were grown in large troughs on stone pedestals in the garden setting. A much coveted mill stone was made as an armature for stonecrops and succulents in another garden. There are hundreds of forms that one can use with a little imagination.

Such antique pieces are hard to find, but luckily gardeners can make their own hypertufa troughs and containers. Tufa stone is that beautifully honeycombed limestone that can be found in many creek beds in our area, but it can be made relatively inexpensively by combining 2 parts peat moss, 1 part coarse builders’ sand and 1 part concrete and some containers to use for forms. Instructions abound on the web, but even easier with less mess is to sign up for classes at Hilltop Gardens Nature Center. Greg Speichert will be offering a workshop on Saturday, November 15, 10:00 a.m. and students can walk away with a container and lists of plants that work well. Visit the Hilltop Gardens and Nature Center on the web for details.

Anita Bracalente is a garden designer, writer and lecturer with Jackson & Fourth Garden Design. She can be reached at 812.332.6042.

Fall color was pronounced and lingered late this year. Photo by Anita Bracalente

While I was waiting for the reds to appear, it made me wonder why some trees turn red and others yellow, and what about trees and shrubs with red summer foliage? Such questions lead to more inconclusive answers than I’d bargained for.

Let me start with the simpler question with a straightforward answer: what goes on chemically with species that sport red summer foliage? Sport may just be the word, considering that a tree or shrub carrying an all-season red plumage is a chance happening in cultivated conditions and unlikely to appear with great reliability in the wild. Even if red foliaged shrubs and trees do appear in nature, they cannot outcompete their green fellows.

Red leaves do indeed photosynthesize and create chlorophyll, although we typically think of chlorophyll as green. Red leaves simply mask the green color because of their abundance of flavins and carotenoids (think carrot) which gives some leaves an orange and yellow hue. An abundance of flavins will give foliage a deep rich red color which is often found in many Japanese maple cultivars. We have the rather common A. palmatum variety dissectum “Crimson Queen.” This weeping laceleaf Japanese maple comes on a bright red that deepens to bronze in the summer and turns a brighter red in the fall. Crimson Queen remained in her bronzy greenish state until the first weekend of November before she began to shine a lovely garnet.

So what causes this change in hue? There are numerous theories and depending on the species under consideration, leaf color can vary accordingly. With the exception of about one week of very chilly temperatures in October, nighttime temperatures were mild but day lengths were shortening so something was about to give with the leafage. Leaves with a heavy concentration of anthocyanin will produce red in the fall as photosynthesis breaks down. The triggering of red leaves slows down the chemical exchanges of sugars, oxygen and other chemicals. At the same time cool temperatures and abundant moisture will usually add to red coloring.

This autumn we have had a shortage of moisture and cool temperatures and hence a shortage of red foliage until the beginning of November with the lessened daylight. The lack of rain did cause our delicate laceleaf maple, Crimson Queen, to suffer shriveled, dried leaves on the uppermost layer of the canopy. This tree, I should add, did not receive any additional watering from the resident gardeners and she does suffer from some root competition. Crimson Queen did not provide the best show in her residency here.

But another Japanese maple gave us a fine show. An unknown variety with very broad palmate leaves of 10 points or fingers—a double palmate—had lusty green leaves that turned deep purple on its top canopy, thus providing a type of sunscreen protection to the lower leaves which slowed down the rapid chemical exchanges at the vascular level. As the temperatures lowered the leaves evolved from deep purple to orange. The somewhat shaded understory leaves remained yellow. Wherever they were exposed to sunlight the understory leaves were orange. A breathtaking sight, even if we can only hypothesize as to why this exchange of photosynthetic proteins, sugars, nitrogen and other chemicals degrade in the manner in which they do.

There are theories that red leaves may be the result of a coevolution. The red leaves may signal protection from feeding insects who may damage the tree; or some red leaves may attract insects to feeding, breeding and nesting as observed within some insect/tree populations. These properties may be specific to certain species but they don’t account for all tree species.

It can be observed that even trees with heavy red pigmentation (sweet gums and sugar maples) may display both yellow or red foliage. Sweet gums and sugar maples growing in rich bottomland soils with abundant moisture will sport only yellow leaves while the same trees growing on sharp steep slopes and thin upland soils will display red foliage. If moisture is a key factor as previously stated it would seem that we would see reds in the valleys too. Might it be that red pigmentation signals a distress call by slowing down or prolonging the chemical processes in the tree to allow a slow drip feed to the tree’s roots, as opposed to the rapid chloroplast breakdown in the yellow leaves?

I have often wondered about two dogwood trees planted approximately 20 feet apart in our garden. The pink flowering dogwood, Cornus florida ruba always has the typical deep red foliage whereas its white partner C. florida generally sports a combination of yellow and orange foliage with some red, but never the deep red of the pink one. Certainly most white dogwoods are red. Is it a matter of sunlight, as has been observed in shrub forms of red osier dogwoods in the field and forests? I don’t think so, considering dogwoods as understory trees are generally red. I really don’t know about ours. Both receive about the same amount of sunlight daily.

All of these questions can be left to the field scientists to decipher. Does it really matter to the rest of us? From my point I have been happy to luxuriate in the slow drifting of autumnal colors so late into November!

Anita Bracalente is a garden designer, writer and lecturer with Jackson & Fourth Garden Design. She can be reached at 812.332.6042.

Ripe persimmons remain on branches after leaves have dropped. Photo by Anita Bracalente

I don’t have a long tradition with persimmons and my first introduction to the native fruit, Diosyprus virginiana, was in its un-ripened phase. I was a college student and while walking with a friend to class one day I saw these round orange fruit-like things on the ground. My friend said they were persimmons and I asked her what they tasted like. She suggested that we pick some and eat them on our way to class. We were waiting for our Italian class to begin when we popped these fruits into our mouths. First it was mush, then there was all of those seeds. Then I thought I had just taken a tablespoon of alum powder—I thought she was trying to poison me. Try speaking Italian with your mouth all puckered up!

It was years later, after marriage and domestication when I found out how delicious the native persimmon is after the frost. I do not know why I was never introduced to this delicious fruit in my youth, but I have brought it to our family’s Thanksgiving table ever since.

The native persimmon, Diosyprus virginiana grows in 31 states. I thought it was only native to southern Indiana but the species distribution maps indicates some counties in the extreme northeast of the state. Native persimmon trees are not fussy about soil, but a sandy clay soil in bottom lands is the most likely site. It can be seen as a first generation of woody species cropping up in old pasture lands. Deer are highly attracted to the leaf, buds and fruits as are many types of birds, fox, coyote, raccoon and opossum. If you have room for this sturdy forty-foot tree, by all means introduce it, at least on the wooded edge of your land, for wildlife as well as for dessert!

Diosyprus is part of the Ebenaceae family of woody plants and it is sometimes called the ebony tree, as the wood is dense and is used for handles on mallets, files and other woodworking tools. It is even used for golf clubs and pool cues.

The Algonquin peoples coined the name persimmon and many Native Americans used the persimmon seeds in breads. I for one have never tasted the seeds. During the second Roanoke expedition (1585), the scientist Thomas Hariot described the fruit “as red as cherries and very sweet.” Hariot was smart enough to eat them ripened, whereas Captain John Smith of the Jamestown colony (1607) wrote, “if it is not ripe it will drive a man’s mouth awrie with torment.” I’ll say.

Our native persimmon never caught on as a commercial success as the Asian varieties, but was enjoyed by the few people who were willing to sieve the pulp from the seeds. Those who harvest the native persimmons will know that each small fruit contains anywhere from one to an average of five seeds. One rather large fruit I squished one day had seven seeds, and it takes a good number of fruits to add up to two cups of delicious sweet pulp.

The Asian persimmon, Diospyrus kaki arrived on North American soils from Japan via Commodore Perry in 1856. Fruit production in California began in the 1870s. Grafted trees and seeds of other varieties continued to filter into the United States by both government agents and private plant exporters well into the 20th century. Diosyprus kaki stock is usually grafted to the native Diosyprus virginiana making the grafted stock winter hardy to about 10 degrees and truthfully, not really successful in Indiana unless extremely protected. The un-grafted Asian varieties are usually winter hardy to only 20-25 degrees where as our native persimmon is hardy to -25 degrees. I know of gardeners who have grown the Asian varieties in southern Indiana, but the long term life of the tree is iffy in brutal cold. The commercially grown larger Asian varieties are showing up in the groceries now.

Although it is commonly thought that the fruits require frost to reduce the tannins, thus making the fruit edible, it is rather like any other fruit, differing varieties have their season for ripeness and may not ripen until so late in the season that frost happens. Ripening times will vary even amongst the native species.

If gardeners are interested in growing hardy persimmons, two trees will be required. It is best to purchase nursery stock to ensure you have both sexes. In selecting hardy varieties for Indiana, there’s D. “Early Golden” which ripens in mid-September and is very productive. D. “John Rick” and D. “Killen” ripen in early October. I think the best of the latest varieties is D. “Miller” which has large fruit, firm texture and is a good producer, mid to late October. Certainly there are native trees in our neighborhood that still have fruits tenaciously hanging on to the branches and ripe for the picking. (I checked.)

Anita Bracalente is a garden designer, writer and lecturer with Jackson & Fourth Garden Design. She can be reached at 812.332.6042.

The Physocarpus Centerfold. Photo by Anita Bracalente

The Physocarpus Centerfold, detail. Photo by Anita Bracalente

There are those who will argue that native plants cannot be improved upon for the garden. But native plants in their native form do not always make good bedfellows.

In the last couple of years hybridizers have been improving our common purple coneflower, Echinacea, and some of the flower forms are getting ridiculous. The original intent on improving the purple coneflower was to develop a plant that was more resistant to winter crown rot. Crossing several native echinacea species did result in splendid sunset hues, many of them with a fabulous fragrance and greater resistance to cold and winter crown rot. Admittedly, the breeding did get a bit out of hand with the likes of E. “Hot Papaya” and E. “Pink Poodle,” to name a couple of recent hybrids with the frilly poodle topknots. These hybrids have lost their coneflower elegance and look more like a stiff pom-pom chrysanthemum. No, the improved forms of plants that I am thinking of are native plants which have lanky form and bad manners. A bit of cultivation could provide better form while still creating excellent value to the environment and local ecosystems.

Native bittersweet, Celastrus scandens is very rarely planted or even found available. It may find its way into a country garden by way of the birds. If a gardener wishes to plant bittersweet, say on a very sturdy trellis, it will require two plants for pollination. For those with limited space, two bittersweet vines may be too much. Since Celastrus scandens can twist and twirl most untidily upwards to 25 feet on a sturdy structure or old tree, one may want to place it with some care and two may be just too many. A new variety Celastrus scandens “First Addition” aka “Autumn Revolution” will flower and fruit on the same vine and can go it alone.

I have always admired bittersweet twisting up old fence posts, lacing its orange jewels in the stark of winter. C. “First Addition” carries larger fruit, which will be of great value for a winter scene and for cutting arrangements. This winter season a clipping of steely blue juniper berries with orange bittersweet has filled our scene in our lion urn. Even better than our enjoyment have been the birds that have started to land in this natural feeder. They are poking around from one cut branch to the next nibbling on the juniper berries, imbibing their gin tonics and popping orange cheese curls.

Hybridizers have been transforming our native ninebark, Physocarpus into newer varieties that are proving to have better landscape qualities. There are six species of ninebark native in the United States and one in northeast Asia. These shrubs are attractive to butterflies and bees with May- to June-blooming flowers similar to spirea, The flowers develop bladder-like fruits useful to wildlife, hence the name physa, bladder and karpos, fruit. Peeling exfoliating bark is revealed in the winter, but rarely any interesting fall color. The native shrubs are hardy to -50 degrees and most are tolerant to a variety of soils: they can withstand heat, drought and flooding and are resistant to most insects. However, they are lanky with poor form and quickly outgrow their position within a shrub border. Older species generally have poor, downright ugly weedy profiles.

The first new variety which was marketed since 1969 was Physocarpus “Dart’s Gold” with a golden leaf turned to a weak light green by the end of the season. It did have a slightly better growth habit than the species. A newer variety, P. “Nugget” proved to have better color and nice uniform growth and habit.

In 1999 a chance seedling of a red-foliaged physocarpus was found growing in a German field. The well- known Kordes Nursery of Germany saw the potential of this bronze shrub and put it into production. I was drawn to this shrub when I saw it in a trial garden in Germany four years later. The shiny deep bronze foliage with flushed pink flowers drew me towards this demonstration plot and to my surprise the tag read Physocarpus opulifolius “Monlo” aka “Diabolo,” a North American native! I was shocked, and find it infrequently available in North America.

Still, P. “Monlo” has rangy growth after maturing to 8-10 feet in both directions and requires pruning to maintain an appealing shape. This variety did become the foundation parent for newer varieties. P. “Seward” aka “Summer Wine Ninebark” is one such variety which has dark crimson foliage with showy pinkish white flowers in June. Its growth habit is more compact, between 5-6 feet at maturity. Its fall foliage turns a bright red and the exfoliating bark in winter can be between red on the newer stems and burnished brown on older stems.

A nice foil to the new red forms of ninebark could be a planting of our native little bluestem grass, Schizachyrium, which is pretty in all its shades of light green to steely blue. An upright native grass found in prairie settings across the U.S., it has been infrequently available until now. Schizachyrium scoparium “The Blues,” S. “Minnbluea” aka “Blue Heaven Minnbluea” aka “Blue Heaven” will start showing up in nurseries now. This compact upright grass has very blue foliage from 12-24 inches. While I do find that S. “The Blues” has had a little more variability in its habit and color, S. “Blue Heaven” reliably has very steely blue foliage for the summer and as the plumes come on in July and August, the foliage turns deep shades of red, bronze and pink. As autumn concludes the foliage colors turn from bronze to golden tan. These new little bluestem varieties have more upright compact growth and have great ornamental value and combine well with other grasses, especially our native panicums.

Anita Bracalente is a garden designer, writer and lecturer with Jackson & Fourth Garden Design. She can be reached at 812.332.6042.

A closeup of the beautiful blossoms of fruiting quince. Photo by Anita Bracalente

After some deliberation, my friends agreed that it should go. After all, there are many specimens that could sport far more landscape quality and value for as many as four seasons of the year. Four weekends later,my friends were still excavating a canyon in their backyard. The hole was 4-½ feet deep and 6 feet wide. The old entangled roots were themselves entwined amongst the roots of an old ash tree that had been removed that previous spring. Fearing that this despicable specimen should rise again from these old roots,my friends assiduously combed the earth in their excavated hole with a bonsai rake and shovel. I kid you not, they were at it for sixteen hours or more sitting on their behinds in this enormous crater scraping away quince root hairs from the earth. Hey, that wasn’t exactly my methodology for removal.

We had an old quince bush ourselves. The problem with this shrub is that it happily gets out of hand sending up suckers in every direction, zapping the strength out of the parent plant if it is not kept in murderous check. Soon one has few flowers, no fruit and an unwieldy mass that offers little value. The other gardener on the premises did prune ruthlessly until the shrub performed with a multitude of flower and even some fruit, but in the end, it was in the way of other landscape plans.

Now why, would I turn around and extol the virtues of quince bushes? (Tee hee!) I will pre-empt, before my friends come after me with a real pitch fork—not just any kind of quince bush and not for just any yard.

There are a few quince bushes that could happily provide great interest to a small yard. Chaenomeles speciosa “Contorted”might just fit the bill. There are several varieties of this twisted specimen most prized for bonsai, which is why we have one sitting in a bonsai-in-waiting pot. The contorted branching structure gives winter interest with white flowers in the spring. Another variety has pink flowers. Even so one must prune the suckers away. It is of small stature—to around two feet—and it would make an excellent specimen in the rock garden or along a stone retaining wall. There are other small specimens useful for bonsai and small yards. Chaenomeles Puamea has very tiny leaves and could be used at the front of a mixed border. Planted with small species tulips the two could bloom at the same time roughly late March. Another favorite bonsai specimen that can be used for the yard is Chaenomeles “Ken Toyo” with smallish white, pink and red flowers blooming simultaneously. A large shrub to seven feet, C. Toyo “Nishiki” will sport all three colors simultaneously and also bear fragrant fruits that ripen in late summer if you have room for a pair.

My real enthusiasm is not for these shrubby forms of quince, but for the fruiting quince trees. Once common in the United States every small farm or backyard orchard had quince. The quince was used to make jelly and added into apple cider. A friend of mine had brought me a bar of quince fruit cheese, which she purchased in a Middle Eastern market. The flavor is tart and sweet with a deep aromatic flavor, the variety I had was somewhere between a perfectly ripened pear and pineapple. While in France during the harvest this last fall, quince was widely available in the fruit markets.

Only one tree is needed for fertilization. Cydonia oblonga is the Latin name for the fruiting quince trees and they grow in all kinds of soil, although sticky clay with poor drainage would not be suitable. Not bothered by pests particularly, the trees flower late in the spring which is a good assurance against our iffy spring freezes. The large yellow fruits ripen from September through October. Some will only come to ripen on the windowsill so they store well.

C. Aromatnaya is from the Black Sea region and is new this year in the United States. It is pear shaped with a taste of pineapple and can be eaten fresh. It will ripen on the windowsill once picked in October. C. Havran is a traditional Turkish variety with white flesh and ripens in September. Both C. Aromatnaya and C. Havran are naturally sweeter than any North American varieties. C. Ekmek is another Turkish variety that has a creamy yellow flesh that is very juicy. It also ripens in September.

My quince cheese was a lovely rosy amber color although some quince turn pink to deep crimson when cooked. C. Portugal is such a fruit from Europe that stews well. I have an excellent recipe for Quince Cheese from the cookbook, Preserving by Oded Schwartz, Dorling Kindersley, Limited, London, 1996, but I don’t have a ready source for the fruit. I would like to inspire those with an edible landscape and orchardists to start growing themas I am sure it has market potential once tasted. Any of our Eastern European or Middle Eastern friends would agree!

Anita Bracalente is a garden designer, writer and lecturer with Jackson & Fourth Garden Design. She can be reached at 812.332.6042.