A hybrid camellia through war and peace

What irony.

This beautiful hybrid camellia,  C. x 'Showa-No-Sakae', blooms in fall along with the sasanquas.  It was named in honor of Emperor Hirohito of Japan (1901-1989), meaning Glory of the Showa (Showa indicating the Era of Enlightened Peace beginning with the ascent of the emperor in 1926).  It is actually a very old Chinese/Japanese hybrid which was brought to Europe by Dutch traders in the mid-19th century.  It was officially named in Japan in 1928.

So, where is the irony in all this?  Probably in my mind, as someone who was born four years after Pearl Harbor and who spent her early childhood years being terrified that the Japanese would attack us again.  Maybe it was the fact that so many war scenes were shown at the movies.  Or, perhaps it was the long summer days my brother, three years my elder, would invent war games and terrify me, telling me that the plane that had just passed over our house had an orange sun painted on the wings.

But that was long ago, and really the only irony is that this innocent flower, which is named for "enlightened peace", lived through some of the worst times of war - the Japanese invasion of Manchuria and and then Pearl Harbor and the horrifying atrocities of World War II.

Let me assure you that my fear of the Japanese and the names Hirohito and General Tojo - the latter much scarier - only lasted from about the first through the third grades.  My first grade class picture shows us all wearing dog tags, when we practiced what to do in the event a bomb was dropped.  I didn't know any better that it was the new Cold War and the Soviets that I should be afraid of, and not the Japanese.  

I am very off base here and am rambling indeed, but this thought process started when my 95-year-old friend Margaret Moseley pointed out this flower in her garden (she did not hesitate a beat in telling me the name of it, spelling it out for me to write down).  I'm always interested in the provenance of a plant, and I immediately raced home and looked up the history of 'Showa-No-Sakae'.

The important fact here is that 'Showa-No-Sakae' is an excellent plant to espalier against a low wall.  Some of the flowers on Margaret's shrub were semi-double with bright yellow stamens.  Others were very double, like the one pictured above.  All were beautiful and were more reminiscent of the sixty-odd years of peace we've had with Japan since the end of World War II than any of the times that came before.

A hybrid camellia through war and peace

What irony.

This beautiful hybrid camellia,  C. x 'Showa-No-Sakae', blooms in fall along with the sasanquas.  It was named in honor of Emperor Hirohito of Japan (1901-1989), meaning Glory of the Showa (Showa indicating the Era of Enlightened Peace beginning with the ascent of the emperor in 1926).  It is actually a very old Chinese/Japanese hybrid which was brought to Europe by Dutch traders in the mid-19th century.  It was officially named in Japan in 1928.

So, where is the irony in all this?  Probably in my mind, as someone who was born four years after Pearl Harbor and who spent her early childhood years being terrified that the Japanese would attack us again.  Maybe it was the fact that so many war scenes were shown at the movies.  Or, perhaps it was the long summer days my brother, three years my elder, would invent war games and terrify me, telling me that the plane that had just passed over our house had an orange sun painted on the wings.

But that was long ago, and really the only irony is that this innocent flower, which is named for "enlightened peace", lived through some of the worst times of war - the Japanese invasion of Manchuria and and then Pearl Harbor and the horrifying atrocities of World War II.

Let me assure you that my fear of the Japanese and the names Hirohito and General Tojo - the latter much scarier - only lasted from about the first through the third grades.  My first grade class picture shows us all wearing dog tags, when we practiced what to do in the event a bomb was dropped.  I didn't know any better that it was the new Cold War and the Soviets that I should be afraid of, and not the Japanese.  

I am very off base here and am rambling indeed, but this thought process started when my 95-year-old friend Margaret Moseley pointed out this flower in her garden (she did not hesitate a beat in telling me the name of it, spelling it out for me to write down).  I'm always interested in the provenance of a plant, and I immediately raced home and looked up the history of 'Showa-No-Sakae'.

The important fact here is that 'Showa-No-Sakae' is an excellent plant to espalier against a low wall.  Some of the flowers on Margaret's shrub were semi-double with bright yellow stamens.  Others were very double, like the one pictured above.  All were beautiful and were more reminiscent of the sixty-odd years of peace we've had with Japan since the end of World War II than any of the times that came before.

The guru chooses a tree

Like so many followers of Dr. Michael A. Dirr,  I own a well-worn copy of his 1990 edition of Manual of Woody Landscape Plants.  He's written more books since then, but I've practically memorized many of his comments in his original tome about certain favorite plants.

For instance, when I see a katsura tree, I know what he says about this Japanese native.  "...if I could use only one tree this would be my first tree..."  

If you've ever seen this tree in spring, summer or fall, you can understand why.  The new spring leaves are a striking reddish purple.  In summer the color has changed to a bluish green.  By mid-October, the color is yellowish green with a tinge of apricot.  

Plant explorer Ozzie Johnson grows the weeping form right outside the back window of his home in Atlanta.  I first saw that tree 17 years ago in fall.  I should say I caught its fragrance before I saw it.  As fall progresses the leaves emit a smell that reminds me of cotton candy at a fair.  Dr. Dirr calls it a "delightful spicy (cinnamon) brown sugar odor."  

Anyway, this past June when I was in Ozzie's garden, I didn't even recognize the tree because it presented itself as a curtain of beautiful leaves at eye level.  I had to look straight up to see the top.  The branches cascade down like a fountain.  It is breathtaking.

But even the more rounded form of this tree is beautiful.  I caught the one above in October.  Unfortunately, I caught my shadow there at the bottom and someone's red sweater over to the side, but you get the idea of how this tree literally glows in the sun.

Cercidiphyllum japonicum  (sorry, I type in italicized words, but they don't appear so in the finished blog)

Deciduous; grows over a large part of the U.S., Zones 4-8; fast growing; plant in full sun and keep evenly watered until established.  Be mindful of watering during periods of drought.

Dr. Dirr has noted outstanding specimens of the tree near the town square in Amherst, Massachusetts, at Callaway Gardens in middle Georgia, at the Morris Arboretum in suburban Philadelphia, and on the campuses of Michigan State, the University of Illinois, Purdue University, the University of Georgia and the the University of Maine.

The guru chooses a tree

Like so many followers of Dr. Michael A. Dirr,  I own a well-worn copy of his 1990 edition of Manual of Woody Landscape Plants.  He's written more books since then, but I've practically memorized many of his comments in his original tome about certain favorite plants.

For instance, when I see a katsura tree, I know what he says about this Japanese native.  "...if I could use only one tree this would be my first tree..."  

If you've ever seen this tree in spring, summer or fall, you can understand why.  The new spring leaves are a striking reddish purple.  In summer the color has changed to a bluish green.  By mid-October, the color is yellowish green with a tinge of apricot.  

Plant explorer Ozzie Johnson grows the weeping form right outside the back window of his home in Atlanta.  I first saw that tree 17 years ago in fall.  I should say I caught its fragrance before I saw it.  As fall progresses the leaves emit a smell that reminds me of cotton candy at a fair.  Dr. Dirr calls it a "delightful spicy (cinnamon) brown sugar odor."  

Anyway, this past June when I was in Ozzie's garden, I didn't even recognize the tree because it presented itself as a curtain of beautiful leaves at eye level.  I had to look straight up to see the top.  The branches cascade down like a fountain.  It is breathtaking.

But even the more rounded form of this tree is beautiful.  I caught the one above in October.  Unfortunately, I caught my shadow there at the bottom and someone's red sweater over to the side, but you get the idea of how this tree literally glows in the sun.

Cercidiphyllum japonicum  (sorry, I type in italicized words, but they don't appear so in the finished blog)

Deciduous; grows over a large part of the U.S., Zones 4-8; fast growing; plant in full sun and keep evenly watered until established.  Be mindful of watering during periods of drought.

Dr. Dirr has noted outstanding specimens of the tree near the town square in Amherst, Massachusetts, at Callaway Gardens in middle Georgia, at the Morris Arboretum in suburban Philadelphia, and on the campuses of Michigan State, the University of Illinois, Purdue University, the University of Georgia and the the University of Maine.

The lion's head maple - and it's orange

So sorry, but I had to.  I'm back in Bill Hudgins' garden with yet another orange tree.

I have photos of bright, gorgeous buttery yellow Japanese maples that form an umbrella above you, and of scarlet leaves that seem to be on fire when backlit by the sun.  But, I wanted to talk about this particular cultivar, and it happens to turn orange in autumn.

I started off the week on Halloween with a Japanese maple with very finely cut orange leaves.  I'm ending on an upright, compact plant that was one of the first Bill ever showed me.  This is Acer palmatum 'Shishigashira' (a.k.a. the lion's head maple).  I confess I can only identify it because of the bark.  And even then, I wasn't sure.  In the summer, the leaves of 'Shishigashira' are small and curled and remind you of parsley.  Here they appear larger, partly because of the angle and partly because Bill says that some of the leaves can be a bit larger and not so talon-like.

If you look closely, you'll see that the trunk of the tree is green.  The horizontal rings give it the look of bamboo. When you see it in person, it's such an unusual combination and completely unexpected.  Bill has this popular Japanese maple at his garden shop, and we featured it in the Atlanta Journal and Constitution several years ago.

The shape of the tree and its growth habit make it an ideal specimen to grow in a large container.  It also has a sculptural quality that works to frame a view, as it doe here.  In the background is the path that runs along the front of Bill's house with yet another Japanese maple in fall regalia, this time a soft burgundy.

Once again, it's the combination of the evergreens, the stonework and of course the extraordinary fall color (the spring is amazing, too, but that's another story) that make this garden one I keep going back to over and over again.

The lion's head maple - and it's orange

So sorry, but I had to.  I'm back in Bill Hudgins' garden with yet another orange tree.

I have photos of bright, gorgeous buttery yellow Japanese maples that form an umbrella above you, and of scarlet leaves that seem to be on fire when backlit by the sun.  But, I wanted to talk about this particular cultivar, and it happens to turn orange in autumn.

I started off the week on Halloween with a Japanese maple with very finely cut orange leaves.  I'm ending on an upright, compact plant that was one of the first Bill ever showed me.  This is Acer palmatum 'Shishigashira' (a.k.a. the lion's head maple).  I confess I can only identify it because of the bark.  And even then, I wasn't sure.  In the summer, the leaves of 'Shishigashira' are small and curled and remind you of parsley.  Here they appear larger, partly because of the angle and partly because Bill says that some of the leaves can be a bit larger and not so talon-like.

If you look closely, you'll see that the trunk of the tree is green.  The horizontal rings give it the look of bamboo. When you see it in person, it's such an unusual combination and completely unexpected.  Bill has this popular Japanese maple at his garden shop, and we featured it in the Atlanta Journal and Constitution several years ago.

The shape of the tree and its growth habit make it an ideal specimen to grow in a large container.  It also has a sculptural quality that works to frame a view, as it doe here.  In the background is the path that runs along the front of Bill's house with yet another Japanese maple in fall regalia, this time a soft burgundy.

Once again, it's the combination of the evergreens, the stonework and of course the extraordinary fall color (the spring is amazing, too, but that's another story) that make this garden one I keep going back to over and over again.

Diana's autumn garden sparkles

If I'd only known about you, Diana, back when we were desperately looking for autumn gardens for HGTV's A Gardener's Diary.

Every year, programming directors at the Home & Garden Television network told us we had to include gardens that were at their peak in fall, preferably October and November.  Easier said than done.  Just about everyone I called told me to try again in spring.

So, when Diana Mendes posted photographs taken October 12 in her garden on her Facebook page, I couldn't believe my eyes.  Every fall flower I could think of was represented - Korean apricot daisy mums in addition to several other chrysanthemums, Japanese anemones, all kinds of asters, including a bright blue one; golden rod, Mexican sage, swamp sunflower, Encore azaleas, Camellia sasanqua (an entire hedge of it) and roses everywhere.  She even had a yellow re-blooming bearded iris looking as fresh as if it were the month of May.

I finally got to see Diana's garden two weeks later, on October 29th.  You enter her sunny front yard through an arch covered with 'Heavenly Blue' morning glories. A patch of grass is surrounded on all sides by deep borders thickly planted with flowers.  Even though a few of the perennials I saw in the photos of October 12 had passed their prime, most were still going strong, and there were dozens more that had come into bloom  Her roses were gorgeous and came in every color imaginable.  More daisy chrysanthemums had opened up in shades of lemon yellow, peach, red and bright orange.  I don't know if I've ever seen that many fall flowers in one place.  Even spring perennials like adenophera (lady bells) and coreopsis were in bloom.  It was an explosion of color.

I had trouble choosing just one photograph, but I love the color of this rose (Diana regrets she doesn't know its name) and the contrast of its yellow center with the helianthus.  Diana says she picks flowers she likes and then brings them home and tries to find a spot for them.  It's hard, because the garden is so jam packed, and this doesn't even count the spring and summer flowers you can see are there.  

Diana has owned her house in the heart of the Virginia-Highlands section of Atlanta for 28 years.  During her career, she was able to manipulate the hours she worked so she could spend mornings in the garden.  She's retired now, and when she's not in the garden, she's out on hikes or doing dog and cat rescue transports.  In fact, she had to leave to pick up a dog that afternoon, so I told her I would be back.  She has a big patch of Amsonia hubrichtii that hasn't turned golden yet and I definitely don't want to miss that glorious sight.