Sun King and other late summer beauties

The floral display of ‘Sun King’ aralia (Aralia cordata ‘Sun King’, below) is of minor consequence, though the small, satellite shaped flowers are interesting and certain to attract bees. ‘Sun King’ is most remarkable for its brightly colored yellow foliage, and its size, growing nearly to six feet tall. I notice little difference with the shrub-like perennial growing in part sun, or shaded beneath branches of a wide spreading Japanese maple, other than growth is slightly stunted in the deeper shade. 

Summer, and particularly late summer, has been kind to the garden. Consistent rainfall has been most beneficial, but there are no complaints about the lack of severe heat. In the worst of summers, ‘Sun King’ will scorch with part sun exposure, but not this year. Few plants in the garden show signs typical of late summer except flowers, berries ripening on beautyberries, hollies, and dogwoods, and foliage of dogwoods has just begun to change color.

The oddly named ‘W-Ho-ping Toad’ toad lily (Tricyrtis formosana var. grandiflora ‘W-Ho-ping Toad’) grows vigorously, with a more open form than other, more common toad lilies. While ‘Sinonome’, ‘Miyazaki’, and ‘Samurai’ are most commonly available, other cultivars are found only from specialty growers. The common cultivars are excellent to start your collection.

A mutation with a branch of mixed white and purple berries on this purple beautyberry (Callicarpa dichotoma) did not return this year. Beautyberries are unremarkable shrubs through most of the year, with clusters of small flowers that are minimally ornamental. However, in shade to part sun beautyberry is exceptional from late summer until frost.

The choice between white beautyberry (Callicarpa dichotoma ‘Albifructus’) and the purple berried shrub is a personal preference. Both are vigorous shrubs that are best placed to the side of the garden so they do not stand out through much of the year when they are plainly green. Most years, after typical winter cold beautyberries must be pruned to eliminate dead branch tips. With the warm winter this year, no pruning was necessary.

Canyon Creek abelia grows vigorously and flowers prolifically. Its habit is upright and loose. There are many abelias with more compact forms, but none with more abundant blooms.

‘Summer Ice’ daphne grows vigorously in full to part sun. Here, it is planted in part shade which slows it down a bit, and decreases flowering, but only a little. While daphnes have a well deserved reputation for being finicky, ‘Summer Ice’ and ‘Eternal Fragrance’ seem to be the easiest of the lot. Both flower from early spring until frost.

‘Eternal Fragrance’ daphne is beginning its fourth or fifth period of flowering, with scattered flowers at all times in between. This daphne started to flower in late winter and will continue until freezing temperatures.

‘Othello’ ligularia grows in shade beside one of the garden’s ponds. Its foliage is attractive, but unfortunately, it is placed so that it is hidden from view.

Advertisements

Good news, there will be spring flowers

Excellent news. Buds are forming on the variegated leaf, red flowered ‘Cherokee Sunset’ dogwood (Cornus florida ‘Cherokee Sunset’, below). For whatever reason, there have been no flowers on the dogwood in recent years. I’ve been resigned that perhaps there would never be flowers again, so this is a pleasant surprise. Also unusual is that the leaves, that are prone to powdery mildew, are mostly clean at the end of August, which is remarkable after a rainy summer. I suspect that the lack of mildew could be related to flower buds forming, with more energy devoted to bud formation rather than working just to survive. I can’t see anything else that’s changed, though the gardener should never say that nothing’s changed, since changes are often not obvious.

Small flower buds can be seen at branch tips of this Cherokee Sunset dogwood. Though outermost leaves have bleached in the summer sun, there has been little sign of powdery mildew that has plagued the dogwood in recent year.

Otherwise, the garden is about as good as could be expected for late summer. Roses are a bit beaten up from leaf spot that is unavoidable without spraying, even ones that claim not to require spraying. These typically look very good until July, when leaf problems appear to varying degrees. Now, they’re not horrible, but it would be impossible to argue that they are immune to foliar problems.

I’ve noticed that paperbushes (Edgeworthia chrysantha, below) have grown exceptionally this year, crowding neighbors that I supposed were safe from their spread. Many references list the mature size of the shrub as four feet tall and wide, but several are now six, maybe seven feet tall, and at least ten, probably twelve feet across. Obviously, this was not planned for when they were planted, and years ago some neighboring plants were moved to accomodate their growth.

No doubt, the recovery of the paperbushes from freeze damage several years ago is complete. After consecutive cold winters, several feet of dead wood was pruned, reducing the large shrubs from ten feet across to three. Now, they’re back, bigger than ever, and I wonder where they’ll go from here. Fortunately, perennials and smaller shrubs have been moved out of the way except for a yellow leafed spirea that cannot be transplanted and will probably be lost in another year. There are two more in better spots, so this isn’t much of a bother.

On occasion, the gardener must decide to remove an overgrown shrub, or not, but there is no consideration that the treasured paperbushes will be removed. There are few enough flowers in the garden in late winter, and if temperatures are mild, paperbushes can begin flowering as early as late January, though a month or six weeks later is more typical. I am baffled that paperbush is not more popular, even a bit further to the south where it is best suited. As is typical of many gardeners, I suspect, the more uncommon a plant, the more it is favored, and so it is.

Greener than usual

Heck, here it is late August and the grass is green. Not that I care much if the lawn turns brown for a month, but this never happens, or at least rarely, and there’s no secret why the lawn and garden are much greener than usual at this time. Rain, lots of it, and milder temperatures, with few days in the nineties and fewer days of more extreme heat.

While the garden is not irrigated, most plants are long established, and these suffer only a little even in the driest and hottest summers. Typically, there are more problems with summer maladies such as mildew and black spot than fading due to summer’s heat, and happily, this August there’s hardly a sign in the garden that we’re heading into the last few weeks of summer.

There’s always something flowering in the garden, and it should not be much of a challenge for the gardener to find sturdy shrubs and perennials that flower dependably in late summer.

At one time I nearly swore off azaleas. This is long ago enough that I don’t recall if there were a dozen, or two, but between insect and clay soil problems the number dwindled each year. Finally, only a group of three Delaware Valley Whites remained, with no plans to ever plant another. There are plenty of flowers in April without having to bother with azaleas, but then, I began testing repeat blooming Encore azaleas, and trying out a few became a dozen, then more.

Fortunately, something about Encores made them more resistant to lacebugs, which were my biggest problem, so now there are azaleas blooming in spring, but also late summer into early autumn. With plenty of moisture and mild temperatures more typical of September, several of the Encores are flowering weeks early.

Recently, I wrote about bluebeards (Caryopteris) that were once crowded, so stems have grown several feet into the driveway. Every afternoon my wife tells me that she’s headed out with her pruners, but so far I’ve been able to distract her, and possibly the chopping will wait until flowers begin to fade. I believe that with radical pruning in early autumn I’ll be able to encourage branching into open space, and away from the driveway, or at least that’s the story that’s saving the bluebeards for now.

Unrelated to the two bluebeards along the drive, the later flowering ‘Hint of Gold’ is approaching its peak bloom, though one of three is having a problem, possibly due to too much rain. I’ve seen this before, and usually the effected parts must be pruned out before the problem spreads. I’ve delayed too long on the one, so only a stem or two are left, and I’m hoping that it will be okay next year. In fact, the spot is so congested that I’ll probably not even remember it’s gone next spring, but I’d rather it stay.

Hard to figure

I figure that I’m of average intelligence, though certainly my wife will have a thing or two to say about this, but often it seems there are fewer answered than unanswered questions here in the garden. Why is it, I wonder, that a year ago there were many dozens of Tiger swallowtails, and this year there are few in the garden? There are just as many flowers that are favored by butterflies, probably more with abundant seedlings of Joe Pye weeds that are in bloom, and several others that I’ve planted.

No pesticides are used in this garden, ever, or at least none in the past twenty years, so I must presume that the explanation is natural cycles, and next year they’ll be back. This is not the first time that swallowtails have been in short numbers, but sometimes it’s honeybees or bumblebees that come up missing. A year or two, dragonflies seemed fewer darting above the koi pond. This year, the number of bees is astonishing.

I’ve been corrected by a reader that ones I presumed to be bumblebees are actually carpenter bees, but this year and most years these are seen in abundance, and with Mountain mint flowering over the past several weeks and Winterberry hollies before that, the number of other bees in the garden seems substantially increased over recent years. By doing nothing new on my part.  

Probably, there’s someone out there who’s able to explain these things, but for now I’ll just accept that this is a completely natural cycle, and there’s little or nothing I can do to change it. Don’t tell me to plant more of anything, or something different. That’s not the problem.

I’ve noted the lack of caterpillars on redbuds this summer. I don’t recall exactly, but it was last year or maybe the year before that I was stung by caterpillars as I brushed against low hanging branches to pull a weed. I researched to find out the name of this particular stinging caterpillar (White Flannel moth, below) since I don’t think that tent caterpillars in general are stinging types, but after seeing them on the redbuds in consecutive years, this year there are none. Certainly, this is not due to anything I did since I let the caterpillars do their thing, which defoliated about half of the large redbuds before they moved on to the next cycle in their life. I’ve always figured that part of the cycle would be to lay eggs on branches or in the ground below the host tree that would be next year’s, but that’s been skipped over this year. I can’t explain. 

There are now tent caterpillars on one of the Winterberry hollies (below) that are in the same vicinity as the redbuds, but the caterpillars are too small to tell if they’re the same stinging ones. Again, I’ve no plans to pull the tents out of the hollies, which is the friendliest way to be rid of these rather than spraying something to kill them that might be a problem for something else. Today, there are lots of tiny caterpillars, and not much foliage as been damaged, but that will start soon. Why let the caterpillars eat the hollies’ leaves?

The deciduous hollies will start into dormancy in another month or so, and other than looking at the caterpillar-ravaged shrub, this is not really a problem as far as the hollies’ well being. I don’t think the caterpillars will bother the nice crop of berries, so why not let them live? Without identifying the caterpillars, I don’t know what kind of moth or butterfly these will turn into, but whatever they are, they’re welcome in this garden.

Remarkably, very little to complain about

Always, the gardener can find something, or many somethings to complain about. Certainly, there are a few perfect weeks, but then there’s every other day. If not the weather, which is only occasionally ideal, there are weeds, bugs, rabbits, deer, and snakes to disturb the paradise. Being of sturdy constitution, the gardener makes the best of less than ideal circumstances, and is thankful for each day.

Gordlinia approaches peak bloom with hardly a beetle in sight. If the shrubby tree flowers a few weeks earlier the white blooms are marred by Japanese beetles. Gordlinia is a hybrid between Franklinia and Gordonia. Until one was removed in failing health a few years ago, Franklinia bloomed earlier in the summer so that beetles were a constant presence.

After a brief period of typical Virginia heat in early summer,  mild temperatures and plentiful rainfall have prevailed in recent weeks. Severe storms have dumped buckets of rain, with a few washouts but otherwise quite welcomed, and a few days ago disaster was averted as a tornado veered a few miles to the north.

With abundant moisture and with few periods of extreme heat, the garden has not faded as expected in a typical summer. Yes, beebalms (Monarda didyma) are mildewed, and foliage of native dogwoods (below) is spotted (though no powdery mildew, a surprise in August), but that’s a pretty short list of grievances for August. Oh, there are tent caterpillars in one of the Winterberry hollies (Ilex verticillata), but this shouldn’t amount to much and there are no plans to do anything about this minor infestation.

Leaves of native dogwoods are spotted, but this is typical for summer and in mid August there is no sign of powdery mildew that frequently afflicts dogwoods. By mid September leaves will begin to turn to their autumn color, and spots will not be noticeable except close up.

With plenty of moisture, weeds are a constant aggravation, and particularly nutgrass in the damp rear garden. I don’t worry at all about it invading the small areas of lawn, but as soon as small clumps are removed from the edges of planting beds, there’s more the next day, and the next. There’s always something, but any weed is easier to pull in damp soil than when it’s dry, and at least it’s not blazing hot.

Toad lilies are flowering on a typical schedule with Samurai flowering first, and others beginning to bloom. Peak flowering will be through September, with blooms often persisting into October.

Summer Ice daphne does not flower as heavily as its neighbor in the garden, Eternal Fragrance, but there will be scattered blooms from late March until frost.

Too far astray

I’ve been informed by higher-ups in this household that two yellow leafed bluebeards (Caryopteris × clandonensis ‘Worcester Gold’) have strayed too far onto the driveway. Something must be done, immediately. My wife says four feet, and even our small cars can’t get past without scraping the shrubs, or the Japanese maple on the far side. To be contrary I say it’s only eighteen inches, which is hardly anything to be bothered about. But it is.

Crowded for years by a cypress that was cut out earlier this year, Worcester Gold bluebeard inched towards the driveway. Now, it’s too many inches so that cars must drive over branch tips.

No matter, if some action is not promised, and soon, she will chop out the shrubs herself. I know from experience, the result will not be pretty. Instead, I’ll do the chopping, but more gently, and this will wait several weeks until the bluebeards are past bloom. Is this too much to ask?

No doubt, the bluebeards were not planted at the edge of the driveway as they seem, but as neighboring plants grew the branches inched further in that direction so that the center of the shrub appears to be a foot onto the asphalt. Neighbors have now been removed, or cut back so that there’s room to grow, so after flowering the bluebeards will be pruned to encourage growth into the bed and away from the driveway.

The yellow flowered passionflower (Passiflora lutea, above) has not yet made an appearance, and I worry that it has perished beneath the cover of a wide spreading Oakleaf hydrangea. Last year the vine was particularly vigorous, climbing past the hydrangea and far up into an Okame cherry. This part of the garden is so overgrown that I haven’t ventured into the bushes to find out for certain, but I would expect the passionflower to have climbed into daylight long before now. This vine should be hard to kill, but perhaps I’ve done it.

The purple passionflower (Passiflora incarnata, above) is late to flower this year. For whatever reason, the vine did not grow from its crown until very late, though sprouts regularly emerged from root suckers several feet from where they should be. These were removed from between stones in the patio and eight feet away growing up through a dense clump of toad lilies, and finally it’s growing as it should. But, flowering will be weeks later than usual. There is some small benefit to this late bloom. Japanese beetles that flock to the flowers are gone by several weeks.

Waterloo Blue passionflower is planted with a support for the first four feet, and then it will climb into a green leafed Japanese maple.

In recent weeks I planted a new passionflower, ‘Waterloo Blue’ (Passiflora caerulea ‘Waterloo Blue’), which already has a few blooms. I planted it where it’s likely to get sun, even as the garden grows, and as it reaches the top of its support it will grow into a green leafed Japanese maple. This seems like a wonderful idea, and with blue and white flowers it is a distinct contrast to the purple flowered passionflower.

Stems of the passionflowers are not woody, so they die back to the crown each winter. I’m surprised that many gardeners expect these are not cold hardy, and while there are tropical passionflowers, I’ve found that a cold winter only delays their appearance to later in the spring. While some woodier vines can be troublesome, passionflower never strays further than expected.

Fool’s gold

Yesterday, an hour was spent pruning the vigorous Winter jasmine that borders the koi pond. I cannot recall why this was planted in such proximity to the waterfall, which it frequently grows to obscure, but often this seems to have been a mistake. Branches of yellow blooms cascading into the water seems such a grand idea, but as I teetered precariously on damp stones at the pond’s edge, the error was confirmed, and more than once and again on this day I considered how to extricate the jasmine which has become hopelessly rooted between stones.

Winter jasmine and paperbush (Edgeworthia) cascade over the pond’s edge. Irises and sweetflag (Acorus) are planted between boulders that line the pond.

The conclusion, again, was that this is a near impossibility without resorting to herbicides that would almost certainly contaminate the pond. So, it appears that my just reward is to suffer this chore until the day the garden is turned over to some unfortunate soul who believes they are able to manage maintenance of this acre and a quarter plot. Good luck.

Trees and shrubs cover much of the garden, with gems such as this purple leafed sedum planted between hydrangea and spirea to cover the ground for ornament, and to minimize weed growth.

How is it possible that a gardener can claim to enjoy maintenance, and particularly weeding? Certainly, I do not, and this brings to mind the fool’s gold that is the low maintenance garden. Perhaps there is some such sterile environment that is not only gravel and concrete that can still be considered a garden, but the best that I can imagine is to attempt to minimize labor in this garden.

Sun King aralia, Winter daphne and a variegated hosta fill this shaded area.

Perhaps, progress has been made as the garden matures into its twenty-eighth year, but the balance also shifts as my enthusiasm for labor wanes. By this age I should, of course, be working smarter and not harder, but it appears such thinking is beyond my capabilities, though I’ve taken a stab or two at the target.

Camellia, Cinnamon fern, barrenwort, Peacock moss and a hellebore seedling fill this spot beside a stone path.

Photos of snippets of the garden deceive the viewer to believe that most parts of the garden are covered, and how could a weed possibly make its way through such dense planting? A neighbor claims he never sees a weed, and probably from across the street that is correct, but from this vantage there remain too many spaces that are open and prime for weed growth.

Toad lily (Tricyrtis) and Angelina sedum spill over between stones and gravel.

In recent years, I’ve planted to fill edges between the lawn and garden, and if a sufficient budget was allocated all at once this could resolve much of the weeding problem. But, the garden winds for a considerable distance, and I hold out to try a bit of this and that as plants catch my eye. I’ll keep at it.  Perhaps, someday the edges will be covered, and the worst of weeding and maintenance will be eliminated. Probably, just in time for somebody else to take over the garden.

Carex and hosta cover the ground beside the driveway with a purple leafed violet filling any uncovered space.

Liriope fills the space beneath Dorothy Wycoff pieris.

Hellebores spread to cover ground up to this gravel path.

Green and Gold (Chrysogonum virginianum) spreads slowly to fill spaces beside hosta and seedlings of Wood poppy in this area of dry shade.

This dense clump of ‘Samurai’ toad lily prevents all but the most determined weeds.

Japanese Forest grass slowly spreads to cover this partially shaded spot beside a stone path.

Sweetbox spreads slowly, but its evergreen foliage eases maintenance.

Coneflower, carex, toad lily and violets planted along the edge of the driveway.

A low growing sedum borders this stone patio.