Ulmus parvifolia ‘Seiju'(Seiju Dwarf Chinese Elm)

Standard

A few years back I house/dog/garden sat for journalist Ketzel Levine at her Portland home. During that summer, I fell in love with her stubborn and elderly dog, learned from her established garden, and I met my first Ulmus parvifolia ‘Seiju’.

In the garden I could see what had and had not worked for her, I asked her questions about the plants when I saw her, but mostly, I spent warm summer evenings thinking about what might still be possible for me. That was a period of recovery. I was having a botanical growth spurt. I could ID many of the plants in her garden, but this unusual slow-growing shrub (or small tree) was new to me.
IMG_3229Honestly, so much has happened since that summer—when I first fell in love with the Ulmus parvifolia ‘Seiju’—I’d kind of forgotten about the crush I’d developed on it while I’d been there. Most evenings I’d spend time reading or writing in different seating areas she’d set up in the garden. I enjoyed taking in different views, studying her plantings, and “feeling” them. I loved many view there, but my gaze always returned to this plant. I was captivated by it. The garden had many charms though, many.

Recently, I was reminded again of her garden while I was at work. I was bundled up, it was wet and windy, and we were preparing for winter weather. I was walking through the middle of the nursery rows, and then I fell upon the Ulmus parvifolia ‘Seiju’ plants. Seeing their outlines in winter made me smile and I was suddenly filled with intense warm memories. I knew then that I had to write this post. Kneeling down quickly, tipping over a bit as I leaned too far to the right, laughing a little about how stupid I must look taking some of the photos that I do, I started writing this post about the Ulmus in my head right then and there. IMG_3225

The featured image at the top of this post is of the Ulmus parvifolia ‘Seiju’ Ketzel had at her place. It was quite large and the cork-like bark was pleasing to look at. It is often described as not getting large, but it definitely can become quite a large shrub or small tree.

I thought I had better photos of it, but I cannot find them now. Suffice it to say, it’s a plant that stuck with me. I’ve only seen it offered two times since then, once at Garden Fever, and then again where I work in Canby—Secret Garden Growers. It’s a plant I have not yet brought home, but as I shuffled around the nursery, thinking about writing this here, thinking about plants that I value and want to include in my open garden in 2020, I knew immediately that this hardy plant is one of them.

After losing an elderly family member this week, I was feeling out-of-it as I worked and I knew my post this Sunday should just be about a plant that I’d like to share more about, and this Seiju Dwarf Chinese Elm is one that makes you slow down, and meditate upon its loveliness. Some shrubs fill basic needs, other plants give us shocking or striking beauty. Still others—such as this—grow slowly, often allowing us to sit beneath them, following their unusual lines with our eyes, and if we want to become lost in them, in a kind of prayer or meditation, we can, and that possibility is wide open to us. If rushing past them, we can quickly marvel on their complicated lines, but there is a comfort in returning to them.

Once my house/dog/garden sitting gig ended, I missed this plant. It’s like that though. Once again, we don’t know what we have until it’s gone.

Feeling kind of blue this past week—and kind of quiet inside—I wanted to lose myself in the memory of a happier time, and so I traced the shapes and lines that nature gave us to mediate upon.

Ulmus parvifolia ‘Seiju’ is a slow-growing dwarf cultivar. It eventually reaches 6-10′ and about 4′ wide. It’s hardy to USDA zone 5 so it’s a great container plant for my area. Often used as a bonsai, I’d like to see it grown more often in the ground. It does well in the rock garden and it is highly resistant to Dutch elm disease.

IMG_3227

A Gardener on an Alaskan Honeymoon

Standard
The Alaskan honeymoon is over and I’m back at my dining room table writing another blog post.
There are lots of orders to pack and things to get done. With only a few days of summer left I’m embracing each and every one with much love. It’s been a great year for me—and an amazing summer.
An Alaskan glacier.

Going to Alaska was a bit of a surprise. I’d never visited but it has always been a dream of mine. Back when I was 18 I’d thought very seriously of going to college there to study environment science and biology. When John suggested it—since neither one of us had been there—I was so excited.

Alaskan taiga and stream.

My father always visited Alaska in early September. (He’s a salmon fisherman and that’s what you do if you fish.) I never understood why he went, and why he always seemed to miss my birthday, but I understand now.

It’s a place that gets under your skin. I want to return each and every September for my birthday now. I get it.

Alaskan birch forest, (Betula neoalaskana).  
We only saw a tiny portion of what the state has to offer. I have been to Texas and I can say now that they have nothing on Alaska. It would be far easier to survive down there than in Alaska. I think that’s a huge part of the charm. It really heightens the senses and makes you feel alive and small in its vast landscape.
Alaskan landscape.

There will be more posts to come. I have a party to prepare for right now and I must continue to work hard.

I still hear the sounds though of planes in my ears and my eyes are yet filled with the vast expanse of beauty which I’ve just witnessed.

Alaskan landscape.

I hope to find my book about the native plants of Alaska. I oddly misplaced it before we left but since it was my honeymoon I let it go. (Don’t think I just looked at plants! I won’t even begin right now to tell you about the amazing food.)

Lastly, there were the animals. We saw a lot of them but we knew it would be difficult to see grizzlies in the wild since we were traveling by car. I had even mentally prepared myself to see no bears so that I wouldn’t be disappointed. Then, to my delight and surprise—during the cruise out to the Kenai Fjords National Park—we saw a black bear cruising the beach of a small island not far from the open sea. I was quite pleased.

Ok. More on plant life soon.

Golf Course Garden Inspiration

Standard

OK, so if you didn’t know this, we live and garden at the base of an extinct volcano (Mt Tabor) in the city of Portland, Oregon. This volcano of ours is a cinder cone, and at its top we have trails, a park, and picnic areas—among a variety of other cool things. From the swings, for instance, on a clear day, you can see Mt St Helen’s.

Mt St Helen’s as seen from the street above our house.

The foster kids love to be on the volcano, looking at the other volcano, but as cool as it is, when I need to walk now, I actually drive a few miles away from my home to an amazing exercise trail that encircles what I would consider to be a well-designed golf course—though I am far from an expert! Call me crazy, since I have this amazing neighborhood of bungalows to wander around, but something tells me I like the trail not only because I was a runner in my youth—and I enjoy being around others who can still do this activity—but it is due to something else. Big surprise that the main impetuses for me are the non-stop native plants and amazing vistas!! (Oh, and this trail is heavily used so I feel far more safe—sort of…)

If every golf course looked as good as Glendoveer, I might consider taking up golfing, but for me, gardening will always be my sport and I cannot afford another. In the meantime, I will simply enjoy what this fine course has to offer from my trail on the outside of its splendor.

View of the East Course.
Though not native, this is a highlight of the walk all summer long. They have a very long fence covered with hardy Passion Vines.
I admit it! I snag these for seed saving and seed germination experimentation.
Our native shrub Oceanspray or Holodiscus discolor.

On the Web site it says that John Stenzel redesigned the East Course in 1928 when the West Course was added. I couldn’t find any information about this man, but I would like to know more about him since he did such an amazing job as not only a golf course designer, but as a landscape architect as well.

Native Vine Maple (Acer circinatum) under the mostly Douglas Fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) canopy.
Native Thimbleberry (Rubus parviflorus).
Native Snowberry (Symphoricarpos albus). I love to collect these inedible berries too.  I always remember for some reason that this plant was written about by Lewis and Clark in their journals. Maybe it was because specimens collected and propagated ended up at Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello and he wrote that he thought the berries were some of the most beautiful he had ever seen. He then forwarded cuttings to his friend Madame Noailles de Tessé in Paris. This may explain why I love the plant since the history of its propagation can be traced, and in my world, all roads lead back to France for some reason.
To the left of this is the golf course. Well designed, isn’t it?

Happy trails to you, and just out of curiosity, where do you find gardening inspiration in your daily routine that takes you to places away from your garden? I am so spoiled with parks and recreational and/or natural areas that I truly take for granted the beautiful scenery I live in! Do you feel like you do that too?

Here is a link to the nature trail provided by our elected regional government METRO,
http://www.metro-region.org/index.cfm/go/by.web/id=158

Here is a link to the Glendoveer Golf Course, est. 1927,
http://www.golfglendoveer.com/rkonly.asp?HID=591

Amazing slug and snail hunters out for a walk too.