Camellia

Monthly Top 10 Plants at Campiello Maurizio (March 2023)

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‘Twas a long month last month… It was so long I’m late to post this, and it was so cold it induced a lot more numbness in my hands and feet than I’d like to remember. Overall, this spring has not made me smile much—yet. I hope it does soon. I suspect that it will, but the cold has created a frosty chill.

I want to smile again and feel more like my cheerful self. It was not a good winter, and to be perfectly honest, my holiday season was an overturned apple cart that I’ve not yet completely baked into tarts and pies. C’est la vie. We all have sudden surprises.

This is what happens after you’ve lived a bit of an isolated existence due to chronic illness for several decades. I’m learning life lessons later than is ideal, but I’m living. That is all that matters.

Life is change and turmoil.

Life is adaptation and renewal.

Life is death and birth.

Life is decay and decomposition.

In the garden, we find all of this, and at the start of April, I can say I’m finding myself in a garden revival here at home. I can no longer tolerate looking at certain mistakes, poor choices, and am trying harder to make better ones.

Gardeners often rejoice after making good choices. Some feel so overcome by this that they make dramatic career changes, or at least hope to do so. I suppose I did that at one point, but I care more about growing small crops, and working directing with crop propagation. As I work to design my garden with more intention, it’s funny how differently I feel about the plants. They reflect more of me, and I’m self-conscious about that.

There is no reason why at this point I shouldn’t feel self-satisfied about all of this. I’m working extremely hard doing additional strenuous physical labor on my days off. It’s the self-righteous smugness that ruins something like this, and any hint of my own ego stings. The egos of others in my industry is pain enough. So often they make me cringe. That’s part of any creative industry though. It’s funny how hyperaware I am of nipping any bad habits in the bud. Careful artful pruning is something I can obsess over for hours—days even.

Pruning with great relish, and rejuvenating my days, is bringing me great inner happiness. This last weekend I lost myself in the Buxus sempervirens. No, I’m still not smiling, and I don’t quite feel like myself again yet. I’m working on cultivating that too, at least I’m regrowing more of the me I missed so much. Like with any garden, it will take time and patience. For now, I’m happy to be slightly chilled, lost in the maze that is my own labyrinth of self discovery.

I will emerge when it’s time.

One: Who doesn’t love to see blooms in the spring? I honestly don’t have many, and I wish I had more this year. These Crocus versus ‘Pickwick’ flowers at least welcomed me home at the curb for many days.

Two: Each year I’m reminded of the green flower phase I went through years ago when I first planted my garden. One of the plants I found at a sale was Anemone nemorosa ‘Virescens’. It’s been a perfectly reliable plant for me and it has spread slowly.

Three: Pulsatilla halleri ssp. slavica is a new one for me. An alpine plant useful in containers and rock gardens, this one will be going into a nice hypertufa container and we’ll see how it does.

Four: It feels to me like I’ve been taking the same photo of this Viola glabella colony for years now. Originally purchased so I could sell the seeds of this native online, it’s not been a project that I’ve ever been able to harvest much from but the clump continues to slowly spread. Maybe this year, it will be “fruitful”.

Five: There’s no need to re-introduce the Queen of my plant-y realm, but if you’ve not yet met her, this is Camellia japonica ‘Black Magic’. I adore her.

Six: One of the things I take great pride in is being able to grow more ferns from spore. They’re all special to me. Sadly I’ve lost a lot due to doing too much at once and neglect, but these have made it! Cheilanthes wootonii aka Myriopteris wootonii—this one is a beauty.

Seven: Here is yet one more crop I’ve had in production so I can eventually offer seeds of it for sale online. Lunaria annua ‘Variegata Alba’ is not disappointing at all in terms of its variegation. I can’t wait to see it bloom.

Eight: I feel like this is always in my Top 10. That copper-colored new growth on the Adiantum venustum just gets me every time.

Nine: All of the seeds. There’s just too much ugly in my garden after this winter and I’m becoming keenly aware that I need to take pride in my expertise when it comes to seed propagation and to the importance of what I do. I have decades of experience now and I cherish to my core the other professionals in my world who’ve acknowledged, honored, and shared this keen interest with me. Domestically and internationally we’ve had private discussions about conservation and dissemination. I love seeds.

“Disseminate” being my word for 2023.

From Wiktionary: Etymology. From Latin dissēminātus (“broadcast”), past participle of dissēmināre, from dis- (“in all directions”) + sēmināre (“to plant or propagate”), from sēmen, sēminis (“seed”).

Ten: Lastly, I will add the hybrid Salix whips I bought for next to nothing off of EBay many moons ago. My living willow arbor continues to change and grow as I do, but this year I’ve had to attack the huge branches that I let grow too large, and too heavy. These threaten the integrity of the whole, and I got lazy, and was too scared to prune them off. Being scared can be a rush though when you have a chainsaw in hand. The crash could break things.

But what is worse, sitting back passively, doing nothing and watching nature take its course, or taking action? You decide. I mean we all make these choices daily, don’t we?

Knowing it might crash, and I might too, is scary. The odds are not in my favor since I waited so long, but I can still steer this ship ashore. And it’s not really a ship, so if I screw this up, I can begin again. That much I know to my core.

And yes, we all have that power to decide daily.

All I can say, is that it feels great to prune. Let’s grow.

Monthly Top 10 Plants at Campiello Maurizio (January 2023)

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One of the greatest joys to see each winter in front of the house—Camellia sasanqua ‘Yuletide’.

One: Not much likely needs to be written about why anyone would love a Camellia sasanqua ‘Yuletide’ in winter. Thanks to my quick thinking last year after it bloomed, I pruned it again, and I’m glad that I did! The shape the two shrubs had was off, and heavy snow could have damaged them, but not now after some improved branching and balance. I just love those fragrant red blooms with their yellow stamens. This is one of those shrubs that always gives hope to those who get the winter doldrums. Spring is on its way. USDA zones 7a-10b.

Sadly, I can’t recall where I got this, but I think it was a gift from a friend in California. Agave bracteosa is an absolute favorite and it loves this warm and cozy spot in from of the house.

Two: While I love agaves, and find them to be otherworldly at times, I just don’t have the strength to containerize and move them about to keep them looking fresh. Yes, we have hardy ones here (if planted correctly with A LOT of sharp drainage) but I have not focussed on them as a focal point in my garden even though they are in A LOT of Mediterranean gardens. I think this is Agave bracteosa ‘Calamar’. USDA zones 7-11.

Navelwort came home with me from the greenhouse at work. Also known as Umbilicus rupestris, it’s an adorable little thing that I’ve let naturalize in the moss on my back steps.

Three: This is one of those cottage garden classics from overseas in Europe that you frequently see poking out between stones in walls or stairways. It’s in the Crassulacaea family and has fleshy leaves with tall tapering spire-like blooms. The seeds that leak out of the dried capsules are teeny tiny, and dust like. Their minuscule size enables them to be carried on the wind, blown about, and they appear to germinate best when they land on horizontal or vertical patches of moss. Often found in Ireland, I like to believe this little weedy thing better connects me to my roots a bit, ones that were lopped off just a few generations ago. USDA zones 7a-10b.

Hypertufa containers are something I have A LOT of thanks to my good friend Alex. This is just one of the few that I’ve been able to successfully plant with an alpine plant. Euphorbia clavariodies is a South African succulent.

Four: One of the most wonderful things about last year was meeting some of the alpine plant folks. Moving more into that world makes a lot of sense to me, and it is something I avoided for many years. When the crevice garden was build at Cistus Nursery, I had important conversations with the builders—all talented horticulturists on their own, really a “dream team”—and it felt good. Like many of the things I’ve been doing during the last few years, it sutured an emotional wound. Kinda fun to tell new friends that if it hadn’t been for my poor health I would have met them up high in the mountains decades ago. While that vulnerability was painful at first, letting down my guard led to a warm welcome and I’m happily enfolded now, embraced.

What does this mean? It means that I need to grow more alpines and master techniques. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of spots in my garden to do this well yet, but I’m working on it. As of right now, I’ve only successfully been growing a few in containers, and this is my favorite one! Euphorbia clavariodes, from the Drakensberg Mountains. USDA zones 6-10.

This mount with a Rhipsalis sp. has been outside most of the winter. I only bring it indoors when we’re going to be 30F or below overnight.

Five: As always I have a porch filled with plant experiments setup in order to study just how cold hardy they are here in Portland. It’s not a bad thing to do if you have the time to move them in when it freezes—or if you don’t mind if you lose a few things. My projects include orchids, ferns, Hoyas and a few other epiphytic plants. My friend Carlos has encouraged me to mount more, and he’s right. I kind of lost my focus last year and still have a few great mounting projects to complete that I’m excited about for this year. If I begin them now, they’ll look fantastic in a few months. USDA zones 9-10.

This easy conifer needs to be transplanted soon. Microbiota decussata looks its best when it can cascade.

Six: If I could have a larger garden, I would have more conifers. I just cannot say how important they are as bones in the garden. While I understand some can fry here in the Willamette Valley during our hotter months, I do not mind watering them. (Yes, not all of the PNW is a lush forest nor should it be.) This is not a popular opinion, I know, but there is just something comforting to me about them, and that’s likely my knowing how much they thrive here during the other three seasons. As a good designer would say, a good design, and even a great design, will give you a sense of place. No, this is not a native conifer, I know, but it is a beautiful one, that is easy in a container, can take some tough conditions, and can work well with other plantings, and yes, it gives off that lush woodsy feel. Usually it bronzes up a bit in winter. This year though, well, it hasn’t much. USDA zones 3a-8b.

What a sight to see Tanacetum densum ssp. amani popping up with fresh foliage in January!

Seven: When I planted this Tanacetum densum ssp. amani I worried it would look tattered along its edges during the colder months. Well, here it is after a cold spell and during the month of January in a protected but exposed spot in the most xeric spot in my garden. Those feathery leaves, combined with its tenacity, remind me of yarrow, but this plant is so much prettier and so much more lush. It will thrive in warm, sunny spots in the garden. Later this year I’ll enjoy its yellow blooms. USDA zones 4a-11.

Unknown Arctostaphylos x in my garden this winter. This was a random one from work that had the wrong label so we’re not exactly sure what it is yet.

Eight: This is still a funny shrub to me. It’s in the wrong spot in my garden since I don’t have a lot of pink in the front garden, but hey, it won’t matter what’s blooming out there in the wintertime. (My arbitrary rules only apply for 8 months of the year. January is not one of those months. Hahaha.) I wanted folks walking by to see this beauty and ask me more about manzanitas, because you know, I might happen to work at a place that’s well known for our selection of them.

Part of me kind of wishes my entire front garden was filled with them, but I like other plants too much, so I only have this orphan from work. The funny part though is that Sean gifted me with several Arctos over the years that I promptly killed since I depended heavily on a sprinkler back then and drowned them.

I’m so glad those days of wasting so much water are over. USDA zones 7-9.

Pittosporum divaricatum looks like a giant scribble ball in the landscape. Nothing says Seussian landscape like a giant scribble ball!

Nine: A beautiful and unusual New Zealand plant for the fun folks out there. Pittosporum divaricatum is the perfect plant for a garden inspired by Dr. Seuss or Studio Ghibli. (Doesn’t it look a bit like a giant soot sprite (Susuwatari) from the films My Neighbor Totoro and Spirited Away?)

Okay, maybe the playful description is not for everyone, it can be classy too. I see it as a plant that both stands out in the front garden, and yet it blends in too. I love how it looks great year round. It may have tipped over a bit last year when it was top heavy after some snow and ice, but after it had a little posture correction, it is doing even better. USDA zones 8a-10b.

One of the more adorable and fuzzy gesneriads, Sinningia bullata.

Ten: Not a hardy plant, but I’m trying to add one greenhouse or houseplant to each of these Top 10 posts. Another of my Brazilian Sinningia plants, I just love this one and its incredible leaves. Named “bullata” due to the upper surface of the leaves, which are bullate, the fuzz beneath them is a bit like something you’d see in a sci-fi movie like that classic Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Plants do so many incredible things and this thick wool-like fur keeps the pests away, so why not admire it for being both assertive in its survival techniques, as well as looking all gussied up. USDA zone 10.