Well, last weekend I had a lot I should have planted (attendees to PPA symposia, especially their tours, tend to pick up a couple of things here and there). I DID plant Lindera glauca var. salicifolia (Lindera salicifolia? Lindera glauca var. somethingelsia? taxonomists appear to be fence sitting on that one), Lobelia 'Fried Green Tomatoes' (seen here, in front of the 'Sutherland Gold' elderberry),

a couple Andropogon gerardii, Teucrium hircanicum (planted, I kid you not, somewhat sideways as it is  normally kinda lax),

Phlomis russelliana, Kniphofia uvaria 'Echo Mango',

Geum 'Totally Tangerine' and I put bits of a Carex siderosticha 'Banana Boat' (detecting a fruit theme?) in several locations.

That leaves me needing to plant Caryopteris divaricata 'Snow Fairy', Heuchera 'Pistache', Deinanthe caerulea 'Blue Wonder', Arisaema 'Starburst' and Salix repens var. argentea ('Argentea', some would say). Well, maybe not that last one. It seems to have greatly resented being left in the driveway for a couple of days.  I would give the willow (sun plant!) crap about how the Deinanthe (shade plant!) looks remarkably better, but the latter may have benefitted from even the light shade offered by the seemingly sacrificial Salix. And, to be fair, maybe the willow needed more water than the false hydrangea.

I also should repot a couple of tiny (but, they were only $1!) succulents (Stapelia or Huernia [did you know Asclepiadaceae have been lumped into Apocynaceae- ]? and Echeveria or Aeonium?)

More sometime soon on how well the willow recovers. If at all.

A Cercis sampler.

Cercis canadensis (eastern redbud)

Profuse cauliflory on redbud.

Closeup of one cluster of flowers.

In some years the fruit set (flat pea-like pods) can be very heavy. I find them attractive. The subsequent seedlings can, in a garden setting, be annoyingly numerous.

Seed pods on Cercis 'Oklahoma'

This one looks pretty much like your average C. canadensis. But when the leaves emerge:

C. 'Forest Pansy' has purple foliage at emergence and for a little while after that. Mileage varies... Some newer cultivars are better at retaining their color through summer.

C. 'Silver Cloud', an early variegated selection

Also 'Silver Cloud'; again, mileage varies.

Brr! But here's a good look at the form of C. 'Covey' (commonly marketed as Lavender Twist). Aside from the weeping habit, the leaves and flowers are much like plain old redbud. One can now get this form with either variegated or purple foliage ('Whitewater' and 'Ruby Falls', respectively).

A redder redbud: C. canadensis 'Appalachian Red', fenced against deer rub.

C. canadensis 'Alba', the white redbud (whitebud???).

C. chinensis 'Don Egolf' is compact and floriferous.

If a plant flowers in the woods...

Being something of a plant pig, the word "showy" suggests to me that people who see a plant so described will immediately suffer a loss of interest in all other things going on around them. Potted specimens in garden centers will cause parents to ignore the child who is shoulder deep in yonder aquatic plants display. Neighbors driving past your garden will run into parked cars while craning to get a better look at it. The last properly marked division on the donated plants table at the charity sale may incite violence in otherwise intelligent, pleasant people.

Scutellaria serrata isn't that kind of showy. While this perennial may, when it's blooming, be the showiest thing going in its natural habitat, it possesses a much subtler beauty in the garden. I've been growing it in a couple different exposures in my garden for over a decade. Over that time, the plants that have been in morning shade/afternoon sun have performed as follows: New foliage emerges a light, bright green, the margins delicately edged in purple. Growth tops out at close to a foot in height. It blooms, for me, in mid-to-late May.

A single mature flower is approximately 1" tall. Mid-May blooms, 2007. 

Somehow I've not taken a picture of the whole plant when in bloom. Perhaps this upcoming May... The seed pods that develop after that offer some interest, but are small and might be easily overlooked. For me, the real post-bloom attraction is the development of color in the foliage as summer progresses. The bronzy purple tint at the leaf margins intensifies and spreads with age. I suspect the extent of that will vary with exposure to sunlight, so folks who grow this in more shade will probably get different results.

Scutellaria serrata holding a few seed pods, leaf margin color harmonizing with Berberis 'Concorde'. July 2006

The same showy(?) skullcap with a tuberous pink Allium and more Salvia lyrata ex 'Purple  Knockout'. July 2009

Over time, a single plant will slowly increase to a clump of about one foot across. I've divided such clumps maybe twice. Pests that trouble other nearby plants seem to pass by this skullcap, and the droughts of late seem only to intensify the leaf bronzing. This is one of those plants that may not be conventionally showy, but which still deserves to be recommended due to their rock-solid reliability.

A little reminder

I know that someone, someday, will be walking around the yard without me (supposing I move, get hit by a bus, etc.) and they will come upon something they want identified (here I beg the indulgence of my readers for what I accept to be a conceit of hopefully minor proportion; that my garden may hold a couple of plants which give a person pause to wonder…). That’s one, of a couple, reasons why I try to keep some record of plants I grow.

You wouldn’t think that I’d have much trouble remembering what plants are in my own garden, especially since I like to label things. I admit that I make things difficult for myself by tending not to label a plant until it has lived through one winter. On the one hand, I avoid the unnecessary time spent making a label for things like the Dracunculus vulgaris (voodoo lily) that refused to arise from the $15 tuber (but I optimistically labeled a newly planted Sauromatum venosum, [also called voodoo lily] last fall- go figure). On the other hand, my pragmatic caution (sounds better than pessimism, what?) leaves me wondering where I even planted the Dracunculus.

A young voodoo lily,  relatively subtle in leaf only. 

Dracunculus vulgaris in bloom.

I've lately been trying to update a spreadsheet that amounts to a personal accessions list for my garden (for the unfamiliar, that's essentially an inventory of plants that one is growing or has grown). Keeping such a list isn’t just my way of indulging an obsessive-compulsive urge, it’s a way to track successes and failures so I can make informed purchases, site plants for optimum growth and ornamental effect, and finally so I can relate sound information about those plants to others.

With that in mind, this (nod to mild obsessive-compulsive tendencies) spreadsheet includes a column with the title "labeled." Ideally, every record would include a “y” in this column, or at least the designation “n/a” (applied to plants no longer with us [Rheum palmatum var. tanguticum ‘Rosa Auslese’, how I miss you!]).

Rheum palmatum var. tanguticum ‘Rosa Auslese’

Unfortunately, the “labeled” column is littered with more occurrences of "?"and "n" than I care to have.  Because, as I’ve already alluded, sometimes I forget what I've planted and where, I can't always put out a label and change the "n" or "?" to "y"(these little things can be so gratifying). What to do, but carry on and see what (or if) things pop where?

So, when I go to plant the next Dracunculus vulgaris (a gardener does not give up after killing only one of anything), I can’t be sure that I’m not plopping it into the same deadly (poor drainage? too exposed/cold? did the bloody squirrels find it?) spot as the last time. Then again, maybe I’ve just somehow missed the foliage of the tuber from 2011, so there’s a chance that when I dig a hole to plant a fresh tuber in what seems like a perfect spot, no labels indicating something hidden and biding its time, I’ll put the spade right through the old one.

Italian arum

Nobody I know raves over Arum italicum, but it's not a plant without its charms. Plus, it has a peculiar lifecycle.

One normally acquires a start in the form of a bulb, which should sited in part to full shade. I recommend getting that done early in fall because this Arum will grow new leaves BEFORE winter.

Fresh, variegated leaves, December 2012

In a mild location (maybe a nice USDA zone 6 or warmer), those leaves will persist through winter.

Snow atop sturdy leaves,  February 2012.

The attentive gardener might notice the curious spathe (the leafy looking bit) and spadix (the finger-like bit surrounded by the spathe) inflorescences around mid-to-late spring. They may be easier to spot the spring after a harsh, leaf-killing winter.

Arum italicum in bloom

Over the course of summer, the marbled leaves senesce (die off), and the pollinated blooms (there are tiny male and female flowers on the spadix) will develop fruit:

Clubs of green fruit change to red-orange in late July or early August.

Too many gardeners (and I'm among them!) site Arum italicum with only the foliage in mind. Once the leaves die back, one is left with 1 to 1-1/2' tall little stands of red-orange clubs. With more careful placement, these showy clubs could be punctuating the canopies of hosta gardens. It seems to me that the cultivars with faint red hues would make fine companions. Likewise, both the foliage and the fruit would show well against the bark of such plants as Acer griseum (paperbark maple) or Betula nigra (river birch).

The conscientious gardener may wish to be advised that Arum italicum can be an over-vigorous plant and may escape cultivation (robins and mockingbirds, among others, enjoy the ripe berries and thus distribute the seed). As attractive as the foliage may be (recovering well even after temperatures in the teens), it shouldn't be mingling with the natives in our natural areas.

Vigorous variegation freed of snow just this week (9 January, 2013).