Rhododendron "Rosy Lights" Formerly Known as an Azalea

I am a plant growing in Allan’s garden and I am not certain of my identity. My given name is Rosy Lights but my family name is puzzling. I used to belong to the Azalea family until botanists tested my DNA. From the results, they concluded that I am a Rhododendron. Why did they have to go and do that? Did they not realize how long it took me to learn how to spell azalea?

I find it hard to believe that I am actually a rhodo because I am not a broad-leafed evergreen. My foliage, which is smaller than theirs is, turns brown and drops off in autumn. Rhododendrons maintain their green foliage all winter. Allan likes them better than he likes me because, throughout the year, their leaves help to camouflage the foundation of his house. In addition, they are more substantial looking, their form is more elegant, and they make a more effective glossy green background for perennials than my foliage does.

In winter, I look barren compared to a rhododendron. Even in spring, there are noticeable empty spaces among my branches because I am gangly, my small sized foliage doesn’t spread far enough, and my shape is not as symmetrical as a rhodo is. That’s why I am placed away from the foundation, among the other seasonal plants. The foundation is reserved for those shapelier plants that are also reliable camouflagers. In small urban gardens, I am used as an ornamental shrub among the perennials. I don’t mind and remain proud because I bring breathtaking beauty to the garden.

In this photo shoot, I am seen blooming in the flowerbed in the second week of May, in Zone 4 and, except for spring flowering bulbs and Pulmonaria, nothing else is flowering now to give the homeowner pleasure. I have the garden to myself and there, I put on an eye-catching display.

Did you notice how photogenic I am? Is it because my flowers are iridescent? Or, did nature outdo herself when she designed my flower head? Some people confuse me with an orchid. Thanks for the flattery, but I believe that I am far more interesting. In this garden, I am known as an attention grabber. That feels good. It makes Allan feels good too, just to look at me.

Room with a View of Lilacs.

Above is a partial view of my test garden filtering through the webbing of a window screen. It's fascinating that only my camera lens would pick up the visual barrier because my brain doesn't see the screen at all. This idyllic image is the first thing that my wife sees each morning when she opens the bedroom window shades. At this time of the year, here in USDA Zone 4, perennials are still emerging and therefore, not very noticeable from far. What I like best about the above view is the fact it is framed in the foreground by the newly opened lilacs.

As the early species tulips are just about to mature and fade, this reliable, aromatic, flowering shrub is the next most exciting gardening event that we experience. The opening of its buds always precedes Mother’s Day by one week. That timing prompted me to create a family ritual. Every year on that special day, I harvest flowering branches and deliver them to my mother-in-law.

I am thankful to the original homeowners who chose to plant lilacs under the bedroom window. They intended that these shrubs grow tall enough to be seen from indoors and fill the room with sweet aroma. Ironically, here in Zone 4, spring is too cold to permit us to keep the windows open and our lilacs’ aroma does not enchant us into sleep. Instead, we cut a few branches and place them in water indoors. Then, the entire house is filled with lilac perfume, and we imagine that we have been transported to the fantasy of Shangra-la.

In the photo above, the white shrub to the left produces an intense sweet perfume. The pale rose-mauve shrub on the right, which I suspect is a very common variety, produces a too-mild aroma. Unseen in the photo, but to the right, is a purplish-wine bush emitting a deep, rich scent that is so intoxicating that it causes goose bumps to appear on my arms.

Gardeners who intend to plant lilac shrubs should keep in mind that at least six hours of sun is essential, full sun is best, and that many varieties will develop into a wide grove, so that it’s wise to allocate space for them to grow exponentially. Not all lilacs are alike; therefore, a plant may not bloom exactly when or how the gardener imagined that it would. That is why it’s a good idea to research online the habit of several varieties, and to carefully read the plant tags at the nurseries. Also, some plants perform bigger and better in climates warmer than mine. Local nurseries can be helpful in guiding gardeners in that regard.

French varieties are leggy and barren at their bottoms with a wide expanse at their tops; the Prestonia may be denser and more columnar in shape. The dwarf varieties, such as Meyeri Palabin, Kim, or Sugar Plum Fairy, grow into large round spheres measuring between three to four feet in diameter in my growing zone, and larger in warmer locations. Some nurseries offer them transformed into a costlier tree. That is done by grafting the miniature shrub onto a slender tree trunk to create a large lollipop-shaped plant. As a shrub or a tree, the pungent, spicy aroma of the dwarf varieties defies description.

Some varieties are miniature, short, medium, or tall. Bloom time may be early or later. Syringia Bloomerang and S. Josée, bloom in spring, and again later in the season, but I have not yet tested them. Some lilac shrubs are more fragrant than others are, and the nuances in the available color choices are excessive. Due to the large number of lilac varieties, controlling for specific characteristics often makes the selection more challenging than is necessary.

However, the most important advice about this shrub is that gardeners in cold climates should not attempt to control its height or shape. Although it is impossible to discern at first glance, lilacs set next year’s flowering buds on the branch tips of this year’s growth. In colder climates, with a shorter growing season, any attempt to trim the shrub will remove these buds and eliminate next year’s flower display. Some of us wait all year long to feel on high when we inhale a lilac's sweet aroma. Therefore, to avoid deep disappointment, this shrub should remain unclipped. For those in warmer climates, this issue may not be a problem. Please read what Carolyn reports in the comment section below.

Pink is a Man’s Color?

Fosteriana tulip Albert Heyn when the temperature is cool.Meet Albert Heyn. He is a pink Fosteriana species tulip growing in my garden. The bulb could have been named either The Heyn Tulip, or Albertina, or even Alberta. Nope! Someone decided that an attractive pink tulip - flowering in a color that used to be reserved for girls - needed a courageously masculine name. It is fascinating that my generation [yes, we are older] will consider this a cultural contradiction, while thankfully, such nonsense will go unnoticed by younger people. 

Albert Heyn drenched in hot sunI deliberately chose to work with species tulips because I had been taught that such early blooming bulbs perform just like perennial do; they will re appear for years to come. My sources must know what they write about because another species tulip, a red Kaufmaniana of unknown name, has been re blooming in my garden for almost 20 years.

Most species tulips tend to flower in warm-to hot-color families. For example, the awesome Gregii Casa Grande, blooms in a fiery scarlet. Fosteriana Albert Heyn is the first pink species tulip, I have ever seen.

A few surplus bulbs of Albert Heyn, hastily planted in late fall, as they appear at the end of a hot day in the sun. They would have been more attractive if planted in a round grouping instead of a straight line. Pink is the favorite color of my wife, my clients, and many gardeners. When it is included in flower compositions, it puts a smile on everyone's face. That is why, for years, I searched relentlessly for a pink species tulip to enhance the early spring flowerbed.

Albert Heyn, a medium height pink variety, was offered in my area for the first time, last fall. It popped out at me, from a mail order catalog page, where I was attracted to its pink petals, highlighted with a streak of violet. It practically had a client's name all over it, one who is very partial to plants in the lilac-pink family.

Last autumn, I planted this Fosteriana tulip for several clients' but did not reserve enough for myself. Now that I have observed the performance of only a few of these bulbs in my own garden - the peach overcast that appears on the petals in hot sun is a welcome surprise -  I intend to add more.

Next season, my test flowerbeds will benefit from the early punch of pink that this species tulip delivers. It will bring a smile to our faces; and no one will care that its given name is Albert.

Flowerbeds that Sing in the Spring.

My walkway garden in unusually cold weather.Did you plant enough spring flowering bulbs? Do you suppose that there was room in the beds for more, even though there was no room in your budget to buy them? I deal with the issue of cost by adding more spring-flowering bulbs to the beds every autumn, according to the amount of disposable gardening funds remaining.

On a warm day, it looked like this.For that reason, my display of spring flowering bulbs tends to be far more relaxed and unplanned than are my perennial plant compositions. I don’t mind the resulting haphazard design because it doesn’t take much to bring a smile to my face, or that of my wife’s, when the bulbs begin to bloom. All we do is step outdoors to take in the morning paper, and we are smitten.

After six months of dreary, white winter, we care more about the presence of color in our lives than we do about design. The captioned image above and the close-up below represent the early flowering display; an assortment of daffodils, narcissus, hyacinths, and early species tulips of varying heights and colors, planted over a span of 5 years. A different color story, composed with Darwin hybrid tulips, will bloom later.

Frigid temperature did not allow the bulbs to put on a show for their closeup.Through the eyes of a garden colorist, what is missing from the above composition is a row of dark blue hyacinths running the length of the bed, just behind the first row of rocks. That shade of blue, hardly visible in the bottom center of this second photo, will inject vibrancy to the color composition. I will attend to that matter that at the end of the upcoming gardening season.

A better showing when the weather turned warm.In late summer, as gardening activities starts to wind down, buying bulbs for the next spring seems like an expensive exercise. Yet, when those bulbs do flower, and the garden breaks out into song, regardless of how many I planted, the experience of watching spring flowering bulbs grow is so enjoyable, that I cannot remember why I held back and planted so few.

Planning the spring garden usually begins in July, when I study the contents of the mail order catalogs, write down the names of the bulbs that interest me, and take that list with me when I drive to a full-service nursery, several miles away from home. Yes, it is time consuming; I devote an entire morning to the trip.

The original intention was to do a price and selection comparison between nursery and mail order. The results were surprising. The nursery offered the identical in-depth assortment that I found in the catalogs, their prices were lower, no shipping charges to be added, and I was able to purchase the exact number of bulbs I wanted without having to deal with catalog pre-packs, that contained more or too little of what I needed.

The photo of the two yellow daffodils, whose name I did not record, nor do I remember, represents the largest bulb, in that family, that I could find at the nursery; and it blooms majestically. It is a reminder for me to stay away from mail order “value packs”.

A few years ago, I purchased one such “deal” from a respected mail order house. I had hoped that a large quantity of fifty assorted daffodil bulbs would fill up swaths of empty spaces in early spring flowerbeds. I was wrong! Fifteen percent of the bulbs arrived rotted, twenty percent never bloomed and those that did flower have been smaller by comparison to the ones that I select myself at the nursery.

However, not everyone lives in reasonable proximity to a full service nursery. For some, the inventory and pricing found at a big box store will be sufficient. For others, mail order is the only convenient source to purchase plant material, irrespective of price or value. Why, even I purchased my very first plants by post. For many years, the catalog served a text book for my introduction to gardening.

Does Your Garden's Design Make You Feel Good?

The Pattern Garden: The Essential Elements of Garden Making, Valerie Easton, Timber Press

What makes a garden successful? Is it the accolades heaped upon it by one’s colleagues? Is it the fame it garners for it originality? Is a garden successful because it makes the homeowner and visitor feel good? American garden writer, Valerie Easton, has chosen the latter and has made it the theme of her book.

There is a delightful abstract quality to this publication. In it, the author takes good garden design to a higher, more spiritual level. Instead of discussing the aesthetic and scientific elements of design, as so many traditional garden design books do, she focuses on the role played in garden design by archetypal ideas - a.k.a. patterns - that reference the longings of human beings. These pleasure and comfort-rooted ideas are those that inspire designers to create gardens that are satisfying beyond their beauty.

Ms. Easton believes that a garden should be more than an outdoor living area or plant display. A successful garden should encourage us to enter, to explore, to be surprised, and to linger. A garden should make us feel good.

The inspiration to consider garden design from this perspective came to the author from two diverse but complementary sources. First, was the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi, or natural transitions, and secondly was Christopher Alexander’s collection of universally appealing patterns of urban design. Ms. Easton has distilled Mr. Alexander’s patterns down to 14 garden-specific ones that are essential to bringing people comfort and contentment outdoors.

Properly adapted to our personal needs, these patterns help create environments that satisfy us at our deepest levels. They explain why one garden is successful while another garden is not. In a successful garden, we should be able to feel ourselves moving through and experiencing the outdoor space on many sensory and emotional levels. By comparison, the author holds that an unsuccessful garden is worth admiring only from a distance because it engages one’s eyes and intellect and nothing more.

To help us appreciate the essence of a satisfying garden, she reacquaints us with its contextual and changing habits, as reinterpreted through the concepts of the Alexander patterns. For example, the reader will learn

• How weather, soil, topography, and views create a unique garden site,
• How the relationship of the garden’s scale to the house affects our overall impression of an outdoor space
• How outdoor rooms, pathways, bridges and gates create a personal journey filled with anticipation
• How enclosures and exposures provide shelter and borders to influence our levels of comfort  
• How patios, sheds and focal points create desirable garden destinations
• The soothing role played by water's sound and reflection
• How ornamentation and containers provide garden art that pleases the eye
• The contribution of organic and manmade materials in influencing our visual-tactile experience       

In addition to the refreshing approach that the author has taken to the topic of garden design, Timber Press also assigned a team of talented artist-photographers to illustrate Ms. Easton’s inspiring words. Special mention must go to Jacqueline Koch and her associates, Richard Hartlage and Allan Mandell.

Valerie Easton blgs at www.valeaston.com