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Archive for the Janet Macunovich tag

Choosing reliable and choice shrubs

September 5, 2023 • Leave a Comment

These handy lists will help you select excellent shrubs and place them in the right spots

Shrubs play a major role in landscaping, as we create a hedge here and cover the ground there, there, develop a backdrop in one spot and a pivotal year-round focal point in another. As I design, each shrubby player begins as a set of desirable characteristics, sans name. My rough sketch might have a note like this next to a prominent circle: “Eight feet tall, rounded in outline, winter interest, and color in one or more seasons.” Then, auditions begin and I select possibilities, working from a list of about 200 choice shrubs I’ve come to know how to use. Once the field is narrowed to just 2 or 3 candidates for each role, I consider how those in that smaller group will play as a team and perform in the given environment. In the end I have a line-up in which every plant can shine.

I expect that all my life I will keep trying shrubs I haven’t grown before, so this list will change in time. Certainly there are some that will take the places of my current favorites.

For instance, there’s cinnamon clethra (Clethra acuminata), a tree-like shrub I want to plant and watch in various sites to see for myself if its bark is always so gorgeous as I’ve seen at botanical gardens. Its flowers aren’t nearly so fragrant as those of its little cousin now on my list, but a winter’s worth of pretty bark could trump summer scent.

There are dozens of St. John’s worts (Hypericum) to try too. If it turns out that golden St. John’s wort (H. frondosum) keeps its blue-green character and bigger, brighter yellow flowers even once it’s old, in all kinds of sites, it may replace Kalm’s St. John’s wort on my drawing board.

And there are so many natives still being selected and developed. I hope to try some selections of leadplant (Amorpha canescens), with gray foliage and violet flowers in summer. My bet is that it will be a better groundcover for the Midwest than creeping cotoneaster.

Oh, for a dozen lifetimes so I could try and report on them all—bush whacky!

Big, multi-season beauties

Chinese spicebush (Lindera angustifolia)
10- to 12-foot, upright shrub with fragrant foliage, twigs, and seeds. It opens small yellow flowers in abundance in April. The foliage glows a pretty orange in fall but then fades to parchment and hangs on over winter in zone 5. It can be evergreen in milder zones. So the plant is a natural as a four-season screen. Part shade or full sun.

Choice shrub: Chinese spicebush (Lindera angustifolia) — **Chinese spicebush (*Lindera angustifolia*)**

Chokeberry (Aronia arbutifolia)
6- to 10-foot, upright shrub. Can be a specimen, but over time can sucker to form large colonies, so it’s good for naturalizing. Small white flowers in May. Great fall color, purple to maroon. Showy red fruit forms in late summer and remains into winter or until birds pluck it all. A workhorse, adaptable to various soils and moisture conditions. Sun or half shade.

Koreanspice viburnum (Viburnum carlesii)
Rounded, dense shrub, 8 to 10 feet by 8 to 10 feet, unless you happen upon the half-size variety ‘Compacta.’ White flowers in showy round clusters in late April or early May fill a yard with outstanding spicy scent. Might develop shining red fruit if there are viburnums nearby that are closely related. Fall color sometimes a pleasing maroon.

Choice shrub: Laceleaf red elder (Sambucus racemosa varieties) — **Laceleaf red elder (*Sambucus racemosa* varieties)**

Laceleaf red elder (Sambucus racemosa varieties)
Upright woodland native with white flowers in flat-topped clusters in early summer, followed by red berries. 10 feet tall. Look for the half-size dwarf and gold laceleaf forms.

Leatherleaf viburnum (Viburnum x rhytidophylloides)
Upright, 12 to 15 feet. Tree-like, especially in shade where foliage is most dense at the top of the plant. White lace-cap flowers in May, berries in June and July that age from red to black. Coarse foliage that’s dusky purple in fall. Fast to grow, very tolerant of shade and semi-evergreen to evergreen, so it’s very useful as a screen.

Choice shrub: Panicle hydrangea (Hydrangea paniculata) — **Panicle hydrangea (*Hydrangea paniculata*)**

Panicle hydrangea (Hydrangea paniculata)
Large white flowers in conical clusters in July or August age to pink and persist through winter. Many varieties. 8 to 10 feet tall and twice as wide, but about half that if cut back to the ground every year or two. Blooms on new wood so is reliably showy even where winters are harsh or it’s pruned hard. Sun to part shade. Very tolerant of shade but develops fewer blooms.

Onondaga viburnum (Viburnum sargentii ‘Onondaga’)
8-foot upright shrub, like a small tree. Foliage emerges maroon, changes to glossy green with a rose tinge for summer and glows red to purple in fall. Flowers in lacy, flat-topped clusters in May are deep pink in bud, white in full bloom, then salmon with age. Full sun to part shade.

Seven-son flower (Heptacodium miconioides)
Upright shrub, tree-like, fast growing to 15 to 20 feet. Showy, extremely fragrant white flowers in September become attractive pink seed pods in October. Peeling bark is ivory, white, and parchment—very attractive in winter. Full sun to part shade.

Spring witch hazel (Hamamelis mollis and H. vernalis hybrids)
10 feet tall and wide, with dramatic horizontal branching and most foliage held high. Use it like a small, broad-topped tree in almost any light situation. Best in the half shade. In full sun the plant’s lines are less dramatic and foliage may scorch in summer. In the shade flowering will be less heavy. Yellow to orange or red, sweetly fragrant flowers in February and March. Butter yellow, apricot, or glowing orange fall color. Many good varieties. One special favorite is ‘Jelena,’ with red-orange flowers and orange fall color.

Choice shrub: Variegated redtwig dogwood (Cornus alba 'Elegantissima') — **Variegated redtwig dogwood (*Cornus alba* ‘Elegantissima’)**

Variegated redtwig dogwood (Cornus alba ‘Elegantissima’)
White-edged leaves, red twigs in winter, 8 feet tall and 12 feet wide, but half that size if old wood is cut out each spring to stimulate more bright colored new wood, or the whole plant is cut to the ground every couple of years in spring. Flowers white on year-old and older wood, then bears blue berries in midsummer that are eaten by birds. I love this redtwig best but there are many other great varieties, some with gold-edged leaves or twigs more orange, scarlet, or maroon. Part shade. With plenty of moisture, it grows well in full sun.

Big, with one main show

Bottlebrush buckeye (Aesculus parvifolia)
Big, bold foliage on a suckering shrub that holds up hundreds of ivory candles each June or early July. Fall color is yellow at best and in winter the shrub is nearly see-through. I love it because the hummingbirds love it—and for its fresh, showy bloom after all the spring shrubs have finished. I expect it to be 8 to 10 feet tall and wide (and accept that we’ll have to remove suckers beyond its allotted space) but know it can be twice that if it really likes the site. Sun or part shade.

Choice shrub: Bottlebrush buckeye (Aesculus parvifolia) — **Bottlebrush buckeye (*Aesculus parvifolia*)**

Fragrant honeysuckle (Lonicera fragrantissima)
6 to 10 feet tall and round. A wallflower in terms of leaf and form—even a bit shabby in winter for its thin, arching, and somewhat disordered branches. Still, unmatched for very early spring fragrance. Give it a spot in the background or hedge. Full sun to part shade.

Quince (Chaenomeles speciosa)
Densely branched, glossy-leaf shrub makes an outstanding, unmatchable show of scarlet, rose, or salmon in May followed closely by red-purple of the emerging foliage. 8 by 8 feet, dense, deep green, suckering and thorny, it’s an impenetrable hedge or stand-alone thicket. I wish more properties had room and more gardeners the tolerance to grow it. Orioles and hummingbirds love its flowers and small birds its shelter. Full sun; don’t be taken in by the claim that it tolerates shade, which it does only at the cost of its primary asset: the bloom. Newer thornless varieties are available.

Choice shrub: Snowmound spirea (Spiraea x vanhouttei) — **Snowmound spirea (*Spiraea* x vanhouttei)**

Snowmound spirea (Spiraea x vanhouttei)
White lacy flowers in dense clusters along the arching stems in May and June. A shrubby mound so densely twiggy it’s a screen even when leafless in winter. Blue-green foliage is sometimes a nice peach in fall. Larger but more graceful than Japanese snowmound. Birds love its shelter so much it never needs fertilization for all the droppings that fall there. Fast growing to 8 feet tall and wide. Full sun but very tolerant of shade.

Choice shrub: Summersweet (Clethra alnifolia) — **Summersweet (*Clethra alnifolia*)**

Summersweet (Clethra alnifolia)
5 to 8 feet tall and not quite as wide. White or pink-tinged flowers on finger-length wands in July. Some varieties are shorter, later to bloom or have more pink in the flower bud. The best feature of the plant is the spicy sweet scent. Foliage is clean green in summer and sometimes copper in fall. Attractive to hummingbirds. I cut summersweet back to the ground every 2 or 3 years to keep it small; since it blooms on new wood that never stops the flower show.

Ural false spirea (Sorbaria sorbifolia)
Ferny-leafed shrub covered in feathery white plumes in July which repeat in August. Attractive to butterflies. 10 feet tall and as wide as you allow it to sucker. Blooms on new wood so can be cut to the ground each spring, in which case it is 5 to 6 feet tall. Variety ‘Sem’ is half size, even when left un-cut. Nice coppery color as the foliage emerges early in spring, and sometimes peachy in fall.

Satisfactorily small and multi-talented

Barberry (Berberis thunbergii)
Dense, reliable shrub for full sun. Greatest return from varieties with red, gold, and variegated foliage. 6 feet tall and wide. Density and nasty thorns make it an excellent mounded, no-prune hedge. If you must have a rectangular hedge, plant an upright form such as ‘Sunjoy Gold Pillar’ and skip the pruning with its painful clean-up. Dwarf, mounded 18-inch by 36-inch forms are delightful (‘Gold Nugget,’ ‘Crimson Pygmy’). Insignificant flowers, may have red berries in winter.

Choice shrub: Beautyberry (Callicarpa dichotoma) — **Beautyberry (*Callicarpa dichotoma*)**

Beautyberry (Callicarpa dichotoma)
A wide mound of nearly horizontal stems, 3 to 4 feet tall. Tiny flowers in July become clusters of purple fruit lining the branches. A showstopper in October when the leaves go golden and the fruit is the most purple. Full sun or part shade. Blooms on new wood and can be treated as a perennial, cut to the ground each year.

Blue mist spirea (Caryopteris x clandonensis)
5-foot round mound of gray stems with gray-green foliage and lacy blue flowers in August. All parts of the plant are sweetly fragrant. Blooms on new wood so can be cut to the ground each spring (and branches may die back in zone 5 anyway). Cutback and dieback shrubs usually reach only 3 to 4 feet. Gold-leaf variety ‘Worcester Gold’ and related C. divaricata ‘Snow Fairy’ with white-edged leaves show off their flowers to even greater advantage. Full sun. Don’t believe claims of shade tolerance—only in sun does it develop good bloom and scent.

Creeping cotoneaster (Cotoneaster adpressus)
12- to 18-inch horizontally branching shrub with pink or white flowers in June, then red berries that can be very showy in fall and persist into winter before being eaten by birds. Great for covering ground since it spreads by rooting where branches make good contact with soil. Full sun.

Choice shrub: Dwarf spirea (Spiraea x bumalda) — **Dwarf spirea (*Spiraea* x bumalda)**

Dwarf spirea (Spiraea x bumalda)
2 to 3 feet tall and wide. Branches honey brown and so dense that the plant is a significant presence even when leafless in winter. Pink, rose, or white flowers in June and July will repeat in August if the shrub is sheared to deadhead it. Blooms on new wood and can be grown as a perennial, by cutting it to the ground each spring (the first bloom will be delayed into July). Some varieties have colorful foliage in summer (‘Gold Mound,’ ‘Lime Mound,’ etc.) and some have seasonally changing color (‘Gold Flame’ begins orange in spring, is gold in summer and orange once again in fall). Best in full sun but tolerant of part shade.

Kalm’s St. John’s wort (Hypericum kalmianum)
2- to 3-foot round, dense, with blue-green leaves. Makes a good foil for spring-blooming perennials and then picks up the garden with bright yellow, furry-centered flowers over many weeks beginning in July. Full sun.

Slender deutzia (Deutzia gracilis)
Dense, twiggy plant that manages to bloom almost as well in shade as sun. 4 to 6 feet tall and almost as wide, dwarf ‘Nikko’ is half that height and broader than tall. Gray twigs can be a pretty structure in winter in combination with evergreen perennials. White dangling flowers all along the branches in May.

Virginia sweetspire (Itea virginica)
Arching stems, 4 to 5 feet tall (half height in dwarf forms such as ‘Little Henry’). Part sun. Native along moist streambanks in sun and shade where it suckers to form groundcovering colonies. Blooms white in June but grow it where you will see its most valuable asset: the very late, glowing red-purple fall color.

Evergreens

Bird’s nest spruce (Picea abies ‘Nidiformis’)
Irregularly mounded, dense, and eventually 4 feet tall and twice as wide. It may develop a depression in top center. If it must be kept smaller than its potential, prune every year or two beginning as soon as it reaches maximum allowable size. Full sun to part shade.

Choice shrub: Bird’s nest spruce (Picea abies 'Nidiformis' — **Bird’s nest spruce (*Picea abies* ‘Nidiformis’)**

Blue star juniper (Juniperus squamata ‘Blue Star’)
Its blue foliage is bright in summer, steely in winter. Slow to grow and compact, might eventually be 2 feet tall and half again as wide. Has rather brittle branches so don’t plant it where feet may stray or snow might be stacked in winter. Full sun.

Dwarf white pine (Pinus strobus ‘Nana’)
Mounded or wide, irregularly spreading, light green plant with long, soft needles. Luminous in winter. May reach 6 feet tall and 10 feet wide but can be kept smaller if pruned every year or two beginning as soon as it reaches the desired height and width. Full sun to part shade, and amazingly tolerant of shade although much more open and slow growing there.

Goldthread falsecypress (Chamaecyparis pisifera ‘Filifera Aurea’)
Mound of feathery, gold-tipped foliage forms a broad pyramid 10 to 15 feet tall. Dwarf varieties include ‘Golden Mop,’ ‘Vintage Gold,’ and ‘Lemon Thread.’

Hinoki falsecypress (Chamaecyparis obtusa ‘Nana’)
Very dense, slow-growing dwarf with irregular fans and ridges, very dark green foliage and brighter green new growth. It has the look of a dark green, coral outcrop. 2 feet tall and half again as wide. Full sun to part shade.

Choice shrub: Sargent hemlock (Tsuga canadensis 'Sargentii') — **Sargent hemlock (*Tsuga canadensis* ‘Sargentii’)**

Sargent hemlock (Tsuga canadensis ‘Sargentii’)
The king of feathery evergreens, it makes a graceful mound 8 feet tall and 2 or 3 times as wide, or a small weeping tree. Part shade or sun.

Ward’s yew (Taxus x media ‘Wardii’)
Dark green, dense, wide-spreading beauty in sun or shade. Red “berries” in winter add interest. 4 to 8 feet tall and 10 feet wide or wider. Can be kept smaller, even sheared into geometric forms, but is best used if grown for or pruned for its graceful natural form with feathered edges. For hedges and sheared shapes, use the more regularly-shaped, upright ‘Hicks’ or rounded ‘Densiformis’ yews.

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

RELATED: See “Website Extra: Janet’s Guide to Shrubs” for additional useful lists for shrubs in this article, such as:

Shade
April/May/early June bloom
Bloom in late June or later
Fragrance
Fall color
Birds and butterflies
Winter interest
Screen or hedge
Colorful fruit
Colorful foliage in summer
Long lived without pruning
Hardiest

ELSEWHERE: A homeowner’s guide to nutrition and fertilization of landscape trees and shrubs

Springtime: Reassurgence in the garden

March 16, 2023 • Leave a Comment

Will I ever in my lifetime feel sure at spring? After decades of observation, I still find myself on pins and needles wondering about certain plants and events in the springtime. Shouldn’t this one be back up by now? Weren’t there more of that one last year—did I take some out or what happened? What I did last fall—has it helped or hurt?

One part of me wants to figure it out and stop this worrying and wondering. Another thrills at the suspense, grows on the nervous tension, and learns a bit each year. Here I’ll tell you about some of the recurring questions I’ve put to rest. If you are like me—in need of reassurance at this resurgent season—these things, at least, you can be sure of…

Assurance #1: The bees will be there—on time, every time

A garden’s bloom season may begin on a different calendar date each year, as winter wraps up early or late. Yet on the day the first flower opens in your garden, bees will be there to sip its nectar. I was awed by the bees’ appearance the first time I saw my earliest crocus (C. minimus) on its first day. Since then, having seen it happen many times, the awe has mellowed but never left me.

I am assured bees will find the first flower, or that aphids will appear on the first succulent spirea shoots, and locust plant bugs will emerge as their host plants break bud. Each insect species has honed its timing through thousands of generations, so that they dance to the same tune as the plants they depend upon.

In both plant and insect, internal meters begin to run at the freeze that ends one season, accumulating time toward the wake-up bell for the next. On each day that temperatures rise above 40, for however many hours they hover there, insect eggs and larvae move forward in their development and plant cells chip away at chemicals that built up during fall as insurance against any resumption of growth before a safe time. In a related heat-registry, overwintering adult insects reckon safe emergence time. We humans have observed and recorded this timing in total degrees and hours, and converted it to “degree days.” At agricultural university Extension offices where such information is vital, we start our own meters at fall’s end to mark these units of time and say, for example, “Ah ha, 220 degree days have accumulated. Usually that happens about May 7 but this year it’s early…at any rate, it’s now time to look for honey locust plant bugs appearing from their wintering state.”

It’s an exquisite timing, particular to every region and microclimate. Degree days stack up more quickly one block uphill from me in Jack’s yard, which sheds its cold air downslope to pool in mine. So his crocus may open sooner than mine, and so too will the bees wintering in niches in his yard.

Do the first crocuses call the bees? Do the first bees tease the earliest flowers into opening? No, they've simply both tuned their springtime wake-up alarms to the same degree day. — **Do the first crocuses call the bees? Do the first bees tease the earliest flowers into opening? No, they’ve simply both tuned their springtime wake-up alarms to the same degree day.**

Assurance #2: Bugs will get ahead of you

So is it any wonder that even when we promise a favorite plant we’ll watch out for it next year, its predators find its new growth before we do? Insects and animals that rely on a plant are out there 24/7, awaiting or directly linked to their particular prey. As weekend warriors, we can’t beat that.

We can stay even by keeping sight of two facts, however. One, for most plant eaters, emergence coincides with their own plant’s new growth. Two, baby bugs are easier to kill than older, tougher individuals. Someone who told you they controlled aphids on a viburnum by, “just dousing it with the rinse water after I washed dishes,” was not telling tales even though this tactic may have failed in your yard. Apply soap (over-the-counter insecticidal soap spray or water plus dish soap) when the viburnum is just budding out and the day-old skins of its aphids will dry and split. Spray it on week-old aphids and those hardened veterans may break out loofah sponges and begin a chorus of Singin’ in the Rain.

Don’t let this news get you down. Most plants can manage despite the chewing, sucking or scraping of their usual predators. If they look worn or tattered as a result but have lost less than 20 percent of their leaf surface, they’ve suffered only cosmetic damage. That can be ignored or grown over. Meanwhile, insects such as ladybugs and lacewings that eat other insects are also engaged in the degree day dance. They’ll emerge in time to capitalize on their own prey’s development.

I do very little in the way of bug killing, but quite a bit of bug encouraging. That is, I avoid insecticide and allow insect-sheltering debris to overwinter in order to have the continued presence of species we recognize as beneficial insects. Out in a garden where hundreds or even thousands of insect species live, there are 8 or 9 species of beneficials for every 1 or 2 plant-damaging insect species. These good guys do little or no damage to plants—for instance, they may dine on pollen—but many attack, parasitize or eat other insects.

In addition, I keep my plants healthy by putting them where they can grow most vigorously. Such plants are better equipped to produce the distasteful, deterrent and downright deadly chemicals their species have devised to thwart their predators.

Butterfly bush is a tough customer if it's grown where it belongs: in a sunny, sandy, well-drained and even dry spot. Cut it all you want whenever you want—you won't kill it. However, it's likely to be dying before you even cut it back in spring if it was planted where the drainage is poor. — Butterfly bush is a tough customer if it’s grown where it belongs: in a sunny, sandy, well-drained and even dry spot. Cut it all you want whenever you want—you won’t kill it. However, it’s likely to be dying before you even cut it back in spring if it was planted where the drainage is poor.

Assurance #3: Dead wood will fool the unsuspecting eye

As plants’ internally-concocted potions can dissuade insects and grazers, so can guilt turn people off from gardening. Don’t let it happen to you.

Lots of gardeners are more concerned about the damage they themselves have done, than what insects may do. “I pruned my butterfly bush at the wrong time and killed it,” is a common cry in this crowd. Let this spring mark the end of that lament, if it’s been voiced in your yard.

I can assure you that you cannot kill a butterfly bush (Buddleia davidii) by cutting it back in early spring, even to stubs an inch above ground, even removing all its wood that was beginning to bud out.

You can, however, cut a dead or dying butterfly bush and then blame yourself. If you’re in zone 5 or a warmer (higher number) zone and the bush was healthy last fall, it will be able to grow from one-inch stubs to 4 or 5 feet tall, and quickly, too.

If the bush is not healthy—particularly if it’s being grown in soil that’s overly moist or poorly drained—its crown and roots are susceptible to rot, which takes hold during winter and consumes the live tissue as spring ensues.

Another factor to consider is that some varieties of butterfly bush are not as hardy as others. In my experience, ‘Dark Knight’ is not to be trusted, whereas ‘Nanho Blue’ can probably handle even zone 4 cold if it’s given a well-drained, sandy site.

Roses prick gardeners with guilt too. I’ve watched for decades as roses are pruned at various times and stages of development, looking for proof that we “should not prune them too early.” In one instance, I checked in throughout the season on a public garden of several hundred roses pruned by a single horticulturist over a three-week period that included the “too early” days before forsythia bloom, and saw no ill effect.

As with butterfly bush, a rose may be dead or dying by pruning time. When we learn to look at the base of stems and crown of a shrub for signs of life such as moist, green cambium under the bark and white cores in branches, we will recognize deadwood when we cut it and be free of self reproach.

Assurance #4: Slow starters will start when you give up

Something else gardeners have a tough time accepting is the lateness of plants like hardy hibiscus (Hibiscus moscheutos), butterfly weed (Asclepias tuberosa), balloon flower (Platycodon), perennial ageratum (Conoclinium coelestinum), and groundcover plumbago (Ceratostigma plumbaginoides). These plants, big contributors to late summer bloom, all take their sweet time to emerge, avoiding the cold weather their new growth cannot tolerate by remaining dormant many degree days later than other plants.

So it’s a sure thing in spring that we will give up on one or another of these, give in to the urge to buy more plants, plant something “to replace” what we assume has failed, and soon after have two plants duking it out over the same space.

In fact, degree days may not be the only determinant of a slow starter’s emergence from winter rest. It could be that honest despair is a tonic to them, for they almost always pop up the day after a gardener has given up all hope, pouring his or her sense of loss down on that ground.

Ironically, this error can lead to a better garden. If you chance to buy the right type of plant and set it to grow where you believe the balloon flower or other supposed failure lies, you may produce a fine double-up. That is, if you plant an early riser that tends to nap through summer (early blooming bulbs, for instance), or a tap-rooted, spring-blooming species where a shallow-rooted character tallies (oriental poppy with hibiscus, for example), or a shallow-root spring bloomer with a deep-root sleepyhead (Sedum spurium with balloon flower), the two may go on happily for years together.

**Balloon flower is late to emerge, but worth the wait.**

Hardy hibiscus (H. moscheutos and its hybrids) often sleeps in until late May. It doesn't mind another plant's foliage occupying its air space in April and May, and its shallow roots can straddle deep-rooted spring bulbs such as daffodil and quamash (Camassia). — Hardy hibiscus (*H. moscheutos* and its hybrids) often sleeps in until late May. It doesn’t mind another plant’s foliage occupying its air space in April and May, and its shallow roots can straddle deep-rooted spring bulbs such as daffodil and quamash (*Camassia*).

Assurance #5: You’ll estimate wrong about the mulch you need

Another thing that goes on for years is ordering too much or too little mulch. We might get it right at first guess, then think, “But didn’t I use that much last year, even before adding the two new beds?” Or we might announce our intention to another member of the household who undermines our confidence by asking, “That much? Are you sure you need that much?”

Since too much or too little is more rule than exception, cover your bases. When you have the mulch delivered, don’t let it be dumped right in front of the garage door. Not unless you want to hear long-suffering sighs from family members for weeks, along the lines, “I wishI could put my car in the garage!“

Likewise, in a move to ward off an unwelcome impact on your days that can follow the spreading of too little mulch, always begin mulching in beds that you see every day. Leave the farthest beds for last. Then, if the mulch runs out before all bare soil is covered, the exposed ground will not glare at you every day for the week or two that inevitably separates mulching opportunities one and two.

When the mulch truck arrives, temper your optimism about how long it will take to spread. Don't dump the pile where it will block your garage door. — **When the mulch truck arrives, temper your optimism about how long it will take to spread. Don’t dump the pile where it will block your garage door.**

Assurance #6: The weather will conspire against you

One reason mulch follow-up rarely follows right on the heel of a mulch shortfall is the uncooperative nature of weather. If you chance to be gifted with a clear, cool day on the weekend or the day off work you chose for mulching, the next two picks you make will turn out to be filled with rain or sleet. Unless you garden in the Desert Southwest where weather reports are unnecessary because every day is sunny and dry, buy some rain gear. If you use it only once, you will still be glad. There’s a lot to be gained simply from telling the tale of working in the rain. Be sure to take a picture of you behind the wheelbarrow in the rain suit.

Another way that weather will do you in, but one in which you will probably be a co-conspirator, is in killing dahlias, elephant ears and caladiums. Although these roots you harvested last fall stored best through winter at 50 degrees, they won’t grow well now in soil that cool.

It’s a mistake to plant them outdoors before crabgrass season—about June 1 in my neighborhood—when the soil reaches 60 degrees. Once the tuber or corm you plant softens in the ground preparatory to sprouting, it’s susceptible to fungal attack in cold soil. Once the shoot begins to grow, the plant’s even more likely to be injured or infected. Such a plant may die, or limp into summer as a weakling.

If you’re itching to do something with those dahlia tubers or corms of elephant ear or caladium, divide any clumps now. Cut away any rotted sections. To be viable, a dahlia division must have a bit of last year’s stem included.

Then put just an inch of moist potting mix into a pot that’s eight inches deep or deeper, set the root in and add just enough potting mix to cover it. Put the pot in a warm place—no light needed—and check on it every few days. Your aim should be to keep it barely moist and to note when the shoot begins to grow. Once you see that, add more moist potting soil an inch at a time. Let the shoot show itself, cover it under an inch of potting mix, let it poke its tip up again and blanket it once more, until it reaches the top of the pot. Then put the pot into full sun. This process keeps you occupied for the last few weeks of unsettled weather and keeps the plant warm while it develops a stout shoot.

I hope you kept your dahlia, canna, caladiums and other clumps of tender perennials intact over winter. Divide them only when it's time to replant. Undivided clumps (dahlia, at left) store better with less chance of rot, just as a bruise-free potato or whole onion stores best. The canna (right) was cut before storage and has rotted sections. — I hope you kept your dahlia, canna, caladiums and other clumps of tender perennials intact over winter. Divide them only when it’s time to replant. Undivided clumps (dahlia, at left) store better with less chance of rot, just as a bruise-free potato or whole onion stores best. The canna (right) was cut before storage and has rotted sections.

When you divide, cut away any damaged section. This canna is more tolerant of cool soil than some tender perennial roots. Yet, why set it out early when the plant's best role is as a late summer filler? — When you divide, cut away any damaged section. This canna is more tolerant of cool soil than some tender perennial roots. Yet, why set it out early when the plant’s best role is as a late summer filler?

Elephant ears (Colocasia) don't grow well and may be stunted all summer if planted into cool soil. Delay outdoor planting of those that love warmth (caladium, dahlia, elephant ear, etc.) until the ground reaches 60 degrees, in June. — Elephant ears (*Colocasia*) don’t grow well and may be stunted all summer if planted into cool soil. Delay outdoor planting of those that love warmth (caladium, dahlia, elephant ear, etc.) until the ground reaches 60 degrees, in June.

Assurance #7: Blue and pink hydrangeas will disappoint you

Hydrangea failure is another weather-plus-gardener problem. Mophead hydrangeas (H. macrophylla) are not reliably bud hardy in continental zone 5. That means their roots and sometimes their stems survive winter but the buds often do not.

The problem there is that this species spends the latter half of summer preparing a bud that will be in shape to finish its growth and bloom the following July. If those buds, located at the tips of branches, die or are cut off, the plant begins over again but flowering-branch development is a lengthy process. It is very unlikely the shrub will be able to produce a blooming shoot between now and when fall ends its season.

Sometimes winter kills the buds. You can tell right now if that happened. Consider yourself fortunate and the plant placed well if the bud at the tip of the branch is alive. You’ll know that’s the case if it’s plump and moist. Such a bud probably just pushed its protective scales aside to begin to grow again. If it’s dried out, dead or gone, don’t expect any bloom. Your placement of the plant is to blame. You can try shifting it to a spot in your garden where a warmer, more humid microclimate prevails in winter.

You see, even if a blue or pink hydrangea’s buds made it through winter, they’re not out of the woods yet. Weather steps to the fore. Often, as surviving buds open in spring, they’re killed by late frost. If that happens, loop back two paragraphs and read “If those buds…” because the weather’s kicked the plant back to that start-over point.

How is this dismal news reassuring? It is because it can save a gardener months of suspense that end in disappointment. Look now and be reassured by the condition of the tip buds whether there’s any chance for bloom. If there is, keep a cloth sheet on hand and cover the shrub to trap some ground warmth on frosty spring nights. If you’re attentive it may yet keep its tips and bloom.

**The tip bud on a mophead hydrangea branch. It survived winter and is beginning to grow in spring, but has one last hurdle to clear: late spring frosts.**

Final reassurance: Revelation will come

Whether it’s an “ah-ha” based on something you read in a magazine, a connection you make because your nose knows something about soil temperature that cannot be expressed in words, or the sounds you hear from birds reach a place in your conscious where natural cues rank themselves in mysterious but meaningful groups, you will learn and have fun this spring. I’m sure of it.

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

Janet’s Journal: Garden design common questions—and answers

April 27, 2022 • Leave a Comment

A unique garden design is a common goal. We all ask the same questions and then go our own ways with the answers. Here are the questions I hear most often, with no-frill answers that you can personalize.

classic-classy-garden-design — Classy, classic, and easy are three things to aim for in planning your landscape. The lowest-care parts of a landscape are beds filled with shrubs and groundcover. Here, *Spirea* ‘Gold Flame,’ dwarf summersweet (*Clethra alnifolia* ‘Hummingbird’) and vinca.

What can I plant for the most color and lowest maintenance?

Plant what will thrive in that spot. Avoid what will merely survive. Say no to what will only “tolerate” those conditions. Only when it thrives can a plant be all it can be and take care of itself.

Make the most of experts by taking a list of your site specifics (see the sidebar “Matching plant and site”) to your local garden center and asking for plant possibilities. Then sit down with books or at your computer, search for images and descriptions of those plants, and decide which you will like best. And, where possible, make sure to purchase the plants from the experts who helped you.

Choose only a few, because less is more when it comes to visual impact and low maintenance. Focus on the shrubs and low groundcovers, since plantings heavy on those two elements are the simplest to maintain. Do not make your choices based on flower color but on foliage—flowers last only weeks but gold, gray, maroon, white-edged, or blue-green leaves are there all season, even all year. After foliage, go for naturally crisp plant shapes and non-floral color such as bark or berries.

carpet-juniper-zebra-iris-blanket-flower — Carpet juniper, zebra iris (*I. pallida* ‘Argentea Variegata’) and blanket flower (*Gaillardia*) are all well-suited to full sun and sandy soil. Space is also an important part of this combination, and is a feature sorely missing from many landscapes.

Matching plant and site

To make a great match, fill in the blanks or circle the appropriate terms to describe your site. Choose or keep only those plants that fit every category.

Sun: A plant there will cast a crisp shadow for ____ hours each day. More than 6 hours = full sun. Less than 4 = shade.

Soil: The soil is _________ (terms from below that apply)

Sticky (clay)
Gritty (sand)
Dark (rich)
Pale (lean)
Well-drained (18-inch deep hole filled with water empties within 24 hours)
Moist, even days after a rain
Dries out quickly
Loose, airy

Irrigation: Is _________ (terms from below that apply)

Readily available/automatic system
By hand the first year, then rain-only

Exposure: ____ (yes/no) the plant may have a greater than average chance of having to deal with frost, strong wind, exhaust gases, pool splash, pet/child contact or destructive animal(s) including _________.

Resources that list plants by site or provide detailed site info:

Landscape Plants for Eastern North America, Harrison Flint
Native Trees, Shrubs & Vines for Urban & Rural America, Gary Hightshoe
Manual of Woody Landscape Plants, Michael Dirr
Perennials and Their Garden Habitats, Richard Hansen & Friedrich Stahl
Perennial Reference Guide, Karleen Shafer & Nicole Lloyd

What are some fast-growing trees? We need shade!

Take care in what you ask for. There are good, fast trees (see the sidebar “Shade trees that grow quickly”) but even the best tend to be very large when fully grown, have weaker wood, and host more insects than trees that grow more slowly. Shading a table with an umbrella or covering a sitting area with a pergola or pavilion can give you shade while you wait for a slower species.

If you do plant for speed, give the tree lots of room. Think twice about using such a plant to shade areas where twig shedding and insect fall-out would reduce the tree’s worth. Where space is limited, planned obsolescence is a good strategy—plant one fast tree with a slower tree nearby, letting the speedy one serve for just 10 or 15 years while the other bulks up.

lacebark-elm-ulmus-parvifolia — LEFT: Lacebark elm (*Ulmus parvifolia*) is an excellent choice when fast growth is a priority. This tree at Dow Gardens in Midland, Michigan is just 20 years old and over 30 feet tall. RIGHT: Lacebark elm not only provides shade, its bark adds interest in the landscape.

Shade trees that grow quickly

Catalpa
Ginkgo (fast in youth) – Fruitless/male varieties such as ‘Autumn Gold’
Katsura (Cercidiphyllum japonicum)
Lacebark elm (Ulmus parvifolia)
Poplar (Populus hybrids) – Male, disease-resistant cultivars such as ‘Eugenei’ and ‘Assiniboine’
Red-silver maple hybrids (Acer x freemanii) such as ‘Autumn Blaze’
River birch (Betula nigra)
Thornless honeylocust (Gleditsia triacanthos var. inermis)

How can I make my doorway look (better, more inviting, classier, more colorful, etc.)?

Spaciousness is what’s inviting, refreshing, most complementary of architecture around an entry, enduring—and most often missing in modern landscapes. So plan for equal amounts space and plants at an entry. Give every plant or group of like plants room so that even at maturity it will not touch its neighbors. You can “color” the space between plants with mulch or a very low groundcover.

Choose only what will thrive on the site and strive for calm combinations. A pleasing trio is plenty (see the sidebar “Making great combinations in the landscape”). To place a combination, look at your door as if you are a guest just pulling into the driveway or starting up the walk. Fill that person’s whole view with just one group of plants. If the walkway is long with nooks that are only revealed as a person walks toward the door, or your yard is large enough that you can turn your head to see another view that does not include the door, plant a second combination.

Within the landscape, repeat or give a nod to something in the architecture of the entry. For instance, if the door is painted an accent color, echo that in foliage or pottery. If there is a distinctive shape in windowpane, gable or trim, carry that out into a bench, trellis or sculpted plant.

dwarf-blue-spruce-picea-pungens-kosteri — If the door is painted blue, or the architecture features copper gone to verdigris, a dwarf blue spruce (such as this *Picea pungens* ‘Kosteri’ which the author prunes annually to keep it from growing too large for its place in this landscape) is a good choice in a combination of plants for that entry landscape.

Making great combinations in the landscape

pigsqueak-bergenia-cordifolia-sweet-woodruff-galium-odoratum — Combine plants that will thrive on the site and which have some complementary features so that your landscape will have interest even when there is no bloom. Coarse, evergreen pigsqueak (*Bergenia cordifolia*) punctuates a mass of sweet woodruff (*Galium odoratum*), a low-care, six-inch groundcover for part shade.

Combine for natural shape, foliage color and texture. For example, fine-textured carpet juniper ‘Mother Lode,’ fine-mounded barberry, and coarse-textured, vase-shaped smoke bush. For more subtlety, downplay the contrast between elements—make it a ‘Gold Nugget’ barberry with ‘Mother Lode’ juniper and the green-leaf American smoke tree. For more drama, increase the contrast by using ‘Crimson Pygmy’ barberry or purple-leaf smoke tree.

Evaluate the seasons of special interest provided by a combination and begin additional groups with an eye toward filling seasonal gaps. The juniper-barberry-smoke tree combination provides winter interest, particularly vivid spring foliage effects, and July bloom. So a second group might include a June-blooming tree lilac, ornamental grass that turns red in fall and an attractive, winter-hardy planter that can showcase a summer-blooming annual.

What can I plant that grows quick, for privacy?

Fences grow faster than hedges. Where traditional fencing is not allowed or doesn’t fit the overall picture, use individual sections of fencing or near-solid trellis, strategically placing them between the viewer in your landscape and intrusive elements outside your yard.

Stick with classic hedge material for screening. Those in that category are dense, look good even if sheared, and are dependable across a variety of growing conditions so that they maintain a uniform appearance even when stretched across a property. Privet, boxwood, yew, spirea, burning bush, arrowwood viburnum, barberry, hornbeam, and arborvitae are classics.

Do not crowd a hedge as you plant. Leave room between plants so that roots and new branches can develop in those spaces, or you will probably experience mid-hedge plant losses, uneven growth, and pest problems throughout the life of the hedge.

hedge-collection-morton-arboretum — At hedge collections, such as this one at the Morton Arboretum in Lisle, Illinois, we can see many different trees and shrubs clipped as hedges. There is also a lesson to be learned by noticing which species the planners deemed reliable enough to hedge behind the entire collection, through sun and shade: burning bush.

What can I plant to soften the corner of the house?

Be clear in your definition of “soften” when you ask a designer this question. If you mean to interrupt lines that seem too straight or unnatural when seen as part of a landscape, choose a plant with a naturally rounded or irregular form and place it where just part of that plant will overlap a segment of the offending line. Don’t crowd the building and don’t repeat or cover the entire line.

So if it is the vertical line of the house wall you wish to soften, you might position a small, round-topped crabapple such as Sargent, so that one side of its mature canopy will cover part of the wall’s edge. Place the tree so that a person in your primary viewing location will see the trunk as well away from the house—not lined up with that vertical wall edge. If the horizontal line where your house meets the ground is the part of the corner you want to moderate, plant a low, coarse groundcover such as perennial forget-me-not (Brunnera macrophylla) along one portion of that line but do not repeat the entire line with the groundcover.

Sometimes when a person says they wish to soften a corner, they mean to lead the eye less abruptly from an overly large house to the ground. That usually requires a horizontal space apparently as wide as the house wall is tall. This can be accomplished with a deep, wide bed extending from the house out into the yard, or with an island in the lawn. In either space, use plants of graduated size to create a skyline beginning at the height of the eaves and descending to the ground.

sargent-crabapple-malus-sargentii — Sargent crabapple (*Malus sargentii*) is a small tree with a naturally wide, low crown (here, pruned to sharpen that natural form) and tiny, abundant fruit that hangs on through winter. It’s a long-interest, low-care element that a smart designer finds by giving features such as shape and berry color more weight than bloom.

What should I plant in the space between the house and the front walk?

Usually, less is best in these spaces which were created by builders, not gardeners. Fill such a space with a mass of low groundcover or with long-interest perennials (see the sidebar “Long-interest, front-walk perennials”). Avoid filling it with shrubs, most of which will outgrow that space unless continually pruned—that means more work and less natural beauty.

If the area is large, punctuate the groundcover with something like a sculpture, a neat clump-forming perennial, a group of boulders, a sinuous and rocky dry stream bed, a lamp, or birdbath. Place the interruption(s) with care so they fit the feel of the overall landscape. A center placement or a line of equally-spaced, matching items works in a formal setting. One off-center item or three similar but unequal items placed to describe an unequal triangle will work better where informality and asymmetry are the rule.

Avoid confusing plantings in this area with “something for the front of that wall.” Do this by keeping your main viewer’s location in mind—if you are in the street, on the public walk, or looking in from the foot of the driveway, anything between you and the house will appear to be in front of the house. Plantings outside the front walk or in the lawn can fill that visual space more gracefully and without the increased work required to maintain plants in small spaces.

shrubs-in-narrow-space-between-house-and-walkway — **It’s not necessary to plant shrubs in that narrow space between house and walkway. What’s planted *outside* such a walkway can adorn the house just as well.**

flame-grass-miscanthus-sinensis-purpurescens-autumn-joy-sedum-carpet-juniper-hicks-yew — To the viewer from the road looking toward the house, plants in that bed outside the walkway fill the space “in front of” the building. Flame grass (*Miscanthus sinensis* ‘Purpurescens’), ‘Autumn Joy’ sedum, and carpet juniper in front of Hicks yew.

autumn-joy-sedum-blooming — **‘Autumn Joy’ sedum has a neat appearance before blooming in August. It continues to look neat and colorful through fall and even into winter. That qualifies it as a good front-line perennial.**

Long-interest, front-walk perennials

For high-profile places, mass perennials that look neat when not in bloom, have an attractive winter presence, and require minimal care. Examples:

Bigroot perennial geranium (G. macrorrhizum)
Blue oat grass (Helictotrichon sempervirens)
Coral bells and foamy bells (Heuchera and Heucherella varieties)
Lenten rose (Helleborus x orientalis)
Tall stonecrop (Sedum including ‘Autumn Joy’)

How can I hide the (utility box, air conditioning unit, trash cans, well head, etc.)?

Distract the viewer by providing something nice to look at along a different line, then incorporate the unfortunate element within plants or features that frame the more desirable feature. For instance, where a utility box begs attention, you might place a substantial birdbath or decorative scarecrow in the foreground to the left or right of the utility box, then plant a mass of low, dense shrubbery such as dwarf spirea or deutzia to embrace or surround your chosen whimsy. Let that frame swallow the utility box or cross between it and the viewer, obscuring it.

Alternatively, embrace and multiply the ugly feature. Where there is a wellhead that catches your eye, plan to cover it with a fiberglass boulder, but put that rock in a bed that has several clusters of equally or more impressive native stone. Be careful to avoid drawing the bed to center on the wellhead.

As another example of hiding something in plain view: If a square of concrete marks a septic tank cover and irritates your aesthetic sensibilities, give that concrete a crowd to blend into. Add flagstone or concrete stepping stones in a pleasing pattern across the lawn.

purple-weeping-beech-fagus-sylvatica-purpurea-pendula-picea-abies-nidiformis-autumn-joy — Hide a distracting feature such as a wellhead by placing something more attractive to one side (purple weeping beech, *Fagus sylvatica* ‘Purpurea Pendula’), then massing bird’s nest spruce (*Picea abies* ‘Nidiformis’) and ‘Autumn Joy’ sedum as a frame for the tree that just happens to conceal the wellhead.

What can I plant along the edge of the deck/patio?

Gardens are least expensive and simplest to tend when they are close at hand, so if you want a flower garden, put it here. However, don’t plant it right along the edge of a deck or patio if you cannot see that area from your lounge chair. Narrow borders hidden from everyday view along the foot of a raised deck or patio should be filled with groundcover or simply mulched to reduce weeding and edging chores, and a separate garden placed far enough from the edge to be easily seen and enjoyed.

Use tall features carefully around a sitting area since large, dense objects can block breezes and light, creating an oppressive or claustrophobic atmosphere. Position shrubs or a trellis to block unsightly views but do not mass them or use species so massive that they must be kept sheared.

clematis-viticella-boxwood-liriope-oakleaf-hydrangea — A good place for a garden is close at hand, so areas next to a patio are great garden spots. Clematis on a trellis (*Clematis viticella*), boxwood, and variegated lily turf (*Liriope*), oakleaf hydrangea (*H. quercifolia*), and hostas.

Where can I get the cheapest plants?

Cheap plants are not what you need! Look for the right plants in an affordable size at a garden center that produces healthy plants. Make a list of the plants you’ve decided to use—include the scientific name and variety—and take that to a local garden center.

Small, healthy plants grow more quickly than anyone expects. If you planned combinations for pleasing contrast and then tighten the spacing between plants of the same kind to leave a bit more space between groups than between plants of one kind, even small plants have immediate, pleasing impact.

Don’t rush as you landscape. It’s a long-term investment, so take one question and develop one lasting solution at a time.

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

Proper planning ensures reliable spring bulbs

September 2, 2021 • Leave a Comment

Each year I plan, purchase and plant thousands of bulbs. Here’s what I’ve learned to do in fall to insure the best show of spring bulbs.

**In early April, all eyes will be on this blooming cornelian cherry tree (*Cornus mas*), or gazing at the yard art. Plan the bulb planting scheme in the fall to highlight those attractions.**

Think “grocery produce section” when selecting bulbs

When you choose bulbs in person at the local garden center, you have a significant advantage: you have direct control over quality. Make the most of it. Pretend you’re at a grocery store choosing vegetables, because that’s what bulbs are—root crops.

You would think twice about buying a mushy potato, rubbery carrot or shriveled onion. Be just as choosy with bulbs. Select for firmness and even color. Check for soft spots that may be on their way to rotting, and reject bare-root ephemerals like foxtail lily (Eremurus) if they have broken roots. Take the largest of any bunch.

Keep the same mindset if you must store bulbs before planting. If the bulb has a tunic (a papery skin as on a tulip, daffodil, crocus, etc.) or a horny surface (such as snowdrops and spring-blooming anemone), store it cool and dry like you would store onions or garlic. If it does not have a protective covering, like a true lily or a bare foxtail lily root, keep it as you would carrots—cool and humid in a refrigerator crisper drawer or root cellar. If it’s wrapped, make sure that condensation doesn’t collect and puddle inside to incite rot on the surface of the bulb or root.

About price: Bargain basement bulbs are usually disappointing. If you buy the cheapest, you’re almost certain to receive bulbs half the size of premium items. They may be dry and wasted from improper storage. Given years of ideal conditions, such bulbs may produce a decent display. Next spring, however, they’ll present flowers few and small.

Beware of low-priced collections too. Whether of mixed varieties of one species or a “spring collection” of different species, they rarely live up to their promise. The catalog may illustrate a mix of six types of daffodil or tulip yet ship just 5 of the fancier types to each 45 of a pale, small-flowered type. The mixed-species collections often contain only a few of each big, showy species (hyacinths, daffodils, tulips) but many of each minor bulb (squill, winter aconite, glory-of-the-snow, etc.). They sometimes include downright weedy species such as star of Bethlehem (Ornithogalum umbellatum).

Far too often, the tiny, early bulbs are overlooked when we plan and plant in fall. Yet masses of any of this collection can be planted to naturalize most anywhere in a landscape. Flowers, from left: White *Puschkinia* with its baby blue stripe accompanies early daffodil ‘Jack Snipe,’ fading away as lamium covers that ground. Blue squill (*Scilla sibirica*) plus the blue and white forms of woodland anemone (*Anemone blanda*) are great partners with the evergreen perennial lenten rose (*Helleborus* x orientalis) under a kousa dogwood. Blue ‘Harmony’ and standard purple iris (*Iris reticulata*) can mix it up with yellow crocus (*Crocus chrysanthus*) among clumps of blue fescue or perennial fountain grass.

Include early-, mid- and late-blooming types

You can enjoy spring bulb bloom from early March until early June. Most crocuses come early in that line-up, followed by Dutch hyacinth and daffodils in April, and tulips from late April into May. Alliums, foxtail lily and others carry the show into June. Within each group, however, there are early-, mid-, and late-blooming species and varieties. Take the time in fall to plan a mix that will give you spring color every week that’s important to you. (See the sidebar “Parade of bloomin’ bulbs” for a starting line-up.)

Short on space? You can plant two, three or even four kinds of bulbs in one area if you choose for separate seasons and give all players elbow room. For instance, I have planted squill, early species tulip (Tulipa kaufmanniana), checker lily (Fritillaria meleagris), and drumstick allium (Allium sphaerocephalon) in one spot. I excavated that bulb area about 10 inches deep and placed the tulips, then added a few inches of soil and set the checker lilies and drumstick alliums. Finally I added another inch of soil, scattered the squill and covered it all with the rest of the soil.

There’s no right or wrong in bulbs or any other aspect of gardening, just different ways for each gardener and garden. A catalog may recommend 188 Grecian windflowers (*Anemone blanda*) per square yard, and you certainly can plant that many for immediate impact. Yet you can also place just a few near your favorite garden sculpture and watch them multiply over the years.

Plant them where you’ll see them

Before you plant, stand in the windows you use most in late winter and early spring. Look at your garden from there and from the driveway where you enter and exit. Plant spring bulbs where you will be able to see them from these vantage points or you’re wasting your time and money.

Bulb color goes a long way—if you can see it. So it’s a smart move to plant daffodils where you will see them each day as you leave and come home again. Never forget as you make your choices, however, that most spring bulbs need full sun to bloom well. Note the difference here in the amount of bloom between the daffodils in the wooden barrels and those in the beds. Those in the barrels were sun-grown in pots and moved into the planters for temporary show. Those in the beds have grown there for years, shaded most of each day.

Plant them deep

The rule of thumb for bulb depth is to set a bulb with soil over its nose 2 to 3 times as deep as the bulb is tall. That means to plant a tulip, daffodil, lily or large allium, you need a hole 8 or 9 inches deep. That will accept the three-inch bulb plus at least six inches of soil above it. Most people plant shallow and pay for it in frost damage, toppling flowers and blooms that come one year then never again.

I plant even deeper than recommended. I put large bulbs in holes at least 11 inches deep. If the drainage is good, they don’t mind at all, and need dividing less often. Plus, I won’t harm them as I garden because they’re all below the reach of my nine-inch spade blade.

Doubtful? Experiment with just a few bulbs planted deeper this fall. Note what you planted deep, where, so you can gauge the results next spring. I still do, since I’m not sure I’ve pushed it to the limit, in terms of depth. One fall, after planting a dozen tulips a foot deep, I forgot all about them and later dumped a wheelbarrow of soil there and topped that with a leftover bale of straw. The next spring, the tulips grew from a foot down, through the piled soil, plus 14 inches of baled straw to bloom cheerily above the heap.

That just goes to show that there’s no absolute right or wrong when it comes to using bulbs or any other aspect of gardening. Take that to heart as you plan and plant bulbs this fall. Have fun, and enjoy the surprises spring will bring.

Parade of bloomin’ bulbs

Here’s a list of which bulbs are likely to bloom when, with what. To use it, remember it’s only a guide—winter and spring weather can slow one bulb and speed another—and adjust for length of growing season. It’s geared to use in northern zone 5, where the growing season starts later than it does in a more southern zone 5 but earlier than on the Lake Superior shore zone 5. So change mid-March to early March if you’re in zone 6, or to late February for a zone 7 North Carolina winter home.

Very early (by mid-March): Snowdrops (Galanthus), early crocus (Crocus sieberi, C. minimus, C. tommasinianus), danford and netted iris (Iris danfordiae, I. reticulata).

Early (late March to mid-April): Grecian windflower and wood anemone (Anemone blanda, A. nemerosa), squill (Scilla sibirica), Puschkinia libanotica, Dutch crocus, Dutch hyacinth, early- and mid-season daffodils, firespray- and tarda tulips (Tulipa praestans, T. dasystemon), glory-of-the-snow (Chionodoxa).

Mid-season (late April and early May): Late daffodils, early tulips (Triumph, Foster, multi-flora, and Greigii tulips followed by lily-flowered and fringed types), western trout lily (Erythronium ‘Pagoda’), checker lily (Fritillaria meleagris), summer snowflake (Leucojum‘ Gravetye’), grape hyacinth (Muscari).

Late (mid- to late May): Late and parrot tulips, species tulip (Tulipa wilsoniana), quamash (Camassia), large-flowered alliums, sego lily (Calochortus), perennial glads (Gladiolus byzantinus), bluebells (Hyacinthoides campanulata).

Very late (end of May and into June): Sicilian honey lily (Nectaroscordum siculum), foxtail lily (Eremerus), drumstick and blue allium (Allium sphaerocephalon, A. caeruleum), California hyacinth (Triteleia laxa, Brodiaea).

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

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Replacement options for a dying ash tree

September 30, 2020 • Leave a Comment

Ginkgos in the fall can be spectacular, the fan-shaped leaves glowing gold. Sometimes the color is a less showy yellow-green, but whatever the fall color, the leaves drop quickly soon after and all at once, a leaf raker’s dream.

Part 2 of 2 – Trees for root spaces greater than 10 feet wide

When an ash tree is the friendly cover above your patio or picnic table, and it is doomed to fall to the plague of emerald ash borer, its loss is a personal one. Here’s some consolation: in that location, with park-like room for roots to spread, many species can be expected to grow well and quickly.

Choose from this list and score one for diversity. By planting one of these excellent but underused species, you’ll help diminish the chance of whole-neighborhood defoliation during some future insect or disease attack.

Trees for root spaces at least 10 feet wide

These trees need larger boulevards and islands, where roots have at least 10 feet to spread in all directions:

Ginkgo (Ginkgo biloba, fruitless male varieties such as ‘Autumn Gold’ and ‘Santa Cruz’) 50 to 80’ tall with a variable spread (‘Santa Cruz’ is very wide, ‘Autumn Gold’ just a bit more than half as wide as tall). Grows 12” or more per year in its youth, slower as it matures. Flowers are inconspicuous. Fall color can be a superb gold. Female trees are not desirable as the fallen fruit is malodorous. Full sun. Prefers deep, moist, sandy soil but will tolerate almost any situation.

Hackberry (Celtis occidentalis) 40 to 60’ tall and wide, may be larger. Grows 1 to 2’ per year. Grows in almost any soil and moisture condition, in full sun. Makes no show of flower or fall color. Hard-seeded, berry-like fruit loved by birds and small mammals. This is another of many native trees that are just being discovered for use in the landscape. Like the ash, it’s a tree that rarely stars, yet always fills a supporting role. Some selections have been made, such as ‘Prairie Pride’ with especially lustrous leaves and a broad crown or ‘Windy City’ for a fast growth rate and especially wide spread reminiscent of its relative, the American elm.

Hardy rubber tree (Eucommia ulmoides) 40 to 60’ tall and wide. Grows 12 to 18” per year. Lustrous dark green foliage that’s pest free (and so it’s wonderful to sit under!). Inconspicuous bloom. No fall color. Full sun and almost any type and condition of soil. This tree fits the bill for people who want a non-fussy, relatively fast-growing, pest-free shade tree that does not drop fruit or seeds.

Turkish filbert (Corylus colurna) 40 to 50’ tall and about half as wide. Grows 12-18” per year. Nothing worth seeing in its tiny flowers or fall color. Nuts ripen in fall. Dark green foliage is pest free. In full sun and well-drained soil can tolerate almost any other adverse condition, including the droughty soils that cause scorch on maples.

**Yellowwood is a little known native that’s nearly pest free, a true showstopper in bloom or fall color, and excellent for shade on small properties by virtue of its wide spread.**

Yellowwood (Cladrastis kentukea) 30 to 50’ tall. Wider than tall. Grows about 12” per year. Fragrant white flowers in large pendant clusters in June. Smooth gray bark. Full sun and well-drained soil.

Trees that should not have any restriction to their roots

These are trees that belong in back yards, parks and wide open spaces.

**Bald cypress strikes many people as an evergreen, then surprises them in fall by dropping its needles.**

American linden (Tilia americana) 60 to 80’ tall and 2/3 as wide. Grows 12 to 18” per year. Small white flowers in June are fragrant enough to carry across a yard and very attractive to bees—thus this is called “bee tree.” Fall color sometimes yellow. Full sun to half sun. Almost any soil.

LEFT: American linden is a stately, dependable shade tree—pyramidal in its youth, showy in bloom, and comfortably rounded in old age. RIGHT: Bur oak has no showy flowers and its fall color is dull yellow. But it is rich in character with deeply ridged, corky bark—an outline to admire while you lie in its shade.

Bald cypress (Taxodium distichum) 50 to 70’ tall and half as wide. Pyramidal. Grows 1 to 2’ per year. Fern-like foliage emerges yellow green and fades to yellow or orange-brown before dropping in fall. Shaggy red-brown bark and buttressed trunk base are attractive. Full sun. Moist to wet soil.

Black gum is all you could want in a shade tree—high branched, not messy, and great fall color. However, it is not tolerant of compacted, dry or highly alkaline soils, so plant it to replace a back yard tree, not one by the street or sidewalk!

Black gum (Nyssa sylvatica) 30 to 50’ tall and 2/3 as wide. Grows 12” per year. Its bloom is inconspicuous but fall color is stupendous, from yellow orange to deepest scarlet. Small fruits ripen in early fall and are eaten by birds. Full sun or part shade. Deep, moist, well-drained soil. Don’t site it in harsh winds.

Bur oak (Quercus macrocarpa) 70 to 80’ tall and wide. Can be larger. 8 to 12” growth per year. Nothing to note in terms of flower or fall color. Full sun. Most any soil. More tolerant of city conditions than almost any other oak.

Dawn redwood (Metasequoia glyptostroboides) 70 to 100’ tall, 25’ wide. The tree is an impressive pyramidal form. Grows 3’ a year. Inconspicuous flower. Foliage is ferny, very attractive and sometimes red-orange in fall. Bark is shaggy red-brown, easy to like. Full sun. Prefers moist, well-drained soil but is very tolerant of wet soil. Pest problems are very rare.

LEFT: Dawn redwood may keep its lowest branches into old age and sweep the ground, or branches can be pruned to accommodate traffic. The author was not a believer until she saw dawn redwood as a magnificent street tree in Manhattan. RIGHT: Kentucky coffeetree in winter is a stately form indeed.

Kentucky coffeetree (Gymnocladus dioicus) 60 to 75’ tall, not as wide as tall. Can be larger. Grows about 12” per year. Flower is insignificant. Female trees can bear large, hard pods; if this is unacceptable, hold out for the male variety ‘Prairie Titan’ or ‘Stately Manor.’ Fall color may be a good yellow. It can aggravate fastidious rakers since in the fall the leaves, the ribs that connect the leaflets, and the seed pods drop at different times. Full sun. Deep, moist soils are best, but the tree will tolerate almost any city condition. This tree got its name when early American settlers used the seeds as a coffee substitute, but we are now told its seeds are toxic.

Lacebark elm is a dependable, fast-growing, wide-spreading shade tree with gorgeous bark. It has an additional common name, Chinese elm, that causes some people to confuse it with an inferior tree, Siberian elm.

Lacebark elm (Ulmus parvifolia) 40 to 50’ tall and wide. Grows 1 to 2’ per year. Inconspicuous flower. Fall color may be yellow or red-purple. Mottled, peeling bark is a plus in winter. Full sun. Moist, well-drained soil is best but it tolerates many soil conditions.

**Swamp white oaks are faster-growing than most people realize, so we can enjoy them in their youth as well as leave them to our grandchildren.**

Sawtooth oak (Quercus acutissima) 40 to 60’ tall and wide. Grows 2’ per year during its first twenty years. Golden catkin flowers in spring can be attractive. Foliage is very clean, deep green in summer, often a good yellow in fall. Acorns drop early in fall. An impressive, high-branched shade tree. Full sun. Well-drained soil.

**Shingle oaks can frustrate some gardeners by holding onto leaves through winter. Others see the leaves as winter interest. Isn’t diversity grand!**

Shingle oak (Quercus imbricaria) 50 to 60’ tall and wide. Can be larger. Grows 12 to 18” per year. Leaves unfurl red, are lustrous dark green in summer and become yellow to red-brown in fall. Full sun. Moist, well-drained soil.

Swamp white oak (Quercus bicolor) 50 to 60’ tall and wide. Can be larger. Grows about 12″ per year. With age, develops an impressive, stout trunk and deeply furrowed bark. Fall color can range from yellow to maroon. Full sun. Moist to wet soil.

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

Replacement options for a dying ash tree

September 1, 2020 • 2 Comments

Part 1 of 2 – Ash replacement trees for root spaces less than 10 feet wide

Chinese fringetree is a workhorse that also blooms once a year and supplies fruit for the birds. Remember, the ash trees we’re replacing offered no flower and only brief yellow fall color. Their greatest quality was dependable growth even in tough places.

Emerald ash borer has erased millions of native ash trees from our landscapes and forests. It’s hard to believe that similar devastation happened just decades ago, when millions of American elms fell to Dutch elm disease, or that America has also experienced the loss of certain poplars, black locusts and virtually all of its millions of acres of American chestnuts since 1850.

Perhaps we can stop history from repeating itself. After every previous loss, we planted as America always has—in a big way, in masses. As a result, our urban forest is dominated by just a few species, notably various maples, honeylocusts and littleleaf lindens. To protect ourselves from future widespread loss we have to break that pattern and plant a greater diversity of trees around our homes and on our waysides.

Even before the onset of emerald ash borer, concerned arborists had put a moratorium on ash and maple planting and begun planting less common trees. Tree planting became a matter of mixing species within a city block, rather than planting lines of hundreds of the same species, even the same clone of a species. They are making sure that trees won’t in the future be exposed and lost in blocks of hundreds and thousands, as they are now being lost.

For that next epidemic will occur. In this age where materials are whisked from one side of the world to another, complete plant quarantine and protection from new pests is impossible. You can take the same smart step and plant one of many wonderful tree species that are not in the “big three” when you replace that lost ash.

Choose from the following line-up. It’s a catalog sorted by the amount of root space the tree will have to grow in. After looking into all of them, I have an interest in so many that where my family removed 20 dying ashes from a relative’s property, we’ll probably replant with 20 different species from this list!

Trees for spaces where roots can spread just 5 feet wide

These trees can tolerate the restricted root space of small islands and the narrowest strips between sidewalk and street. Some may need pruning to remove lower branches as they grow, creating clearance for traffic below the main branches.

Chinese fringetree (Chionanthus retusus). 15-25’ tall, may be taller. Slow to grow, less than 12” per year. Often shrubby in habit, to attain tree form must have lower limbs removed as it grows. Hardy within the Detroit Metro area but may not be hardy in the colder parts of zone 5 in suburbs. Bright white confetti flowers in June. Blue-black fruit in fall is relished by birds but borne only on female trees, if a male fringetree is nearby. Fall color may be yellow. Grows in full sun or part shade. Prefers deep, moist soil but is very tolerant of a wide range of soil conditions.

Crabapples such as ‘Sugar Tyme’ are most often listed with ornamental trees, but those between two and three stories tall serve well as shade trees. It may be necessary to remove lower limbs while the tree is young to provide clearance for pedestrians and other traffic.

Crabapples (Malus varieties with known disease resistance such as ‘Adams,’ ‘Prairifire,’ ‘Red Jewel,’ and ‘Sugar Tyme’). 15’ (‘Red Jewel’), 18’ (‘Sugar Tyme’), 20’ (‘Prairifire’), 24’ (‘Adams’), rounded or slightly narrower than tall. Grows about 12” per year. Flowers white (‘Red Jewel’), pale pink (‘Adams’, ‘Sugar Tyme’) or dark red-purple (‘Prairifire’). Fruit small, red and persisting prettily into and even through winter. Birds eat the fruit in late winter. Full sun, well-drained soil.

Hawthorns are game for drier, windier places than many trees and their fruit is a favorite for songbirds. For safety’s sake around your home, choose a thornless variety such as ‘Crusader’ or the nearly-thornless ‘Princeton Sentry.’

Hawthorns (thornless types such as Crataegus phaenopyrum ‘Princeton Sentry,’ Washington hawthorn, and C. crusgalli var. inermis, Crusader hawthorn). 20 to 25’ tall and wide. 12-15” growth per year. White flowers (with unpleasant odor—Crusader) come later than crabapples but help these trees masquerade as crabs. Fall color orange to red or purple. Crusader keeps its small reddish fruit into early winter, ‘Princeton Sentry’ until spring; birds are attracted to both. Full sun and any type of soil so long as it is well-drained.

**Japanese tree lilacs are most often single-trunked, like this young one that will thus be very good one day as a small shade tree.**

Japanese tree lilac (Syringa reticulata). 20 to 30’ tall and not quite as wide. Grows 12 to 18” per year. Creamy white, fragrant flowers open in June, weeks after common lilac. No significant fall color but the polished red brown bark brightens a winter day. Full sun. Well-drained soil.

Kousa dogwood has a reputation as “the dogwood for the sun” but this is misleading. Although more tolerant of full sun than its cousin, the earlier blooming flowering dogwood (*Cornus florida*), it prefers some shade. In the sun, it’s known for developing drooping leaves and failing to attain the much-sought horizontal branching.

Kousa dogwood (Cornus kousa). About 20’ tall and wide, can be larger. Grows about 12” per year. Often sold as a multi-stemmed or very low-branched specimen, but single trunk kousa dogwoods make excellent small shade trees if lower limbs are discouraged or removed. White flowers in June that persist into July. Varieties with pink flowers, larger or later blooms are available. Large rosy fruits favored by birds in late summer. Bark develops polished tricolor effect as the tree ages, very attractive in winter. Fall color may be good maroon. Part shade is best but will tolerate full sun. Moist, well-drained soil.

Redbud. Who would have thought that the romantic woodland tree that blooms in early May as if flocked with thousands of red-violet flowers would be such a winner in parkstrips along roads and driveways. Needs pruning while young to remove lower limbs for pedestrian and vehicular traffic.

Redbud (Cercis canadensis). 20 to 30’ tall and wide. Very fast growth when young, slowing to 12 to 18” per year. Flowers are tiny but numerous, red-violet nubs all along the branches in May. Fall color can be a clear yellow. Bark is near-black with crevices revealing orange beneath. Some people object to the shaggy winter look in a year when many seed pods form. Best in half sun or full sun in moist, well-drained soil but is very tolerant of almost all light and soil conditions except soggy soils.

Serviceberry is a native with international appeal. You can buy named varieties such as ‘Autumn Brilliance,’ ‘Cumulus,’ ‘Prince Charles’ and ‘Snowcloud,’ which have been selected by growers in Europe and the U.S. for traits such as tight upright form, larger flowers, more consistent fall color or resistance to the few leaf diseases that may harry this tree.

Serviceberry (Amelanchier species). 25’ tall, may be taller; 15-20’ wide. Grows 1-2’ per year. Fragrant white flowers in early May. Edible, sweet, blueberry-sized fruit in midsummer loved by birds. Fall color variable each year, yellow to deep red-orange. Smooth gray bark. Best in sun or half-sun in moist, well-drained soil.

Trees for root spaces between 5 and 10 feet wide:

**Amur cork tree assumes such an interesting broad shape and open crown that it invites you to come into its shade.**

Amur cork tree (Phellodendron amurense, fruitless varieties such as ‘Shademaster’ and ‘His Majesty’). 30 to 45’ tall, often broader than tall. Grows 12 to 18” per year. No showy bloom. Brief yellow fall color. Very open crown provides light shade and beauty of line in winter. Handsome corky bark develops in its old age. Full sun. Most soils are okay.

**Golden rain tree provides welcome showy bloom in mid- or even late summer but is not well-known, so it has not been widely planted.**

Golden rain tree (Koelreuteria paniculata). 30 to 40’ tall and wide. Grows 1 to 2’ per year to form a round crown of widely spaced branches for light shade. Flowers are large yellow conical clusters in late June, but bloom time is variable from plant to plant; some don’t flower until August. Seed pods are showy, like yellow-green Chinese lanterns draping the tree in bunches. No fall color. Full sun to part sun. Any well-drained soil. Tolerates high alkaline soils, drought and heat.

Hophornbeam or ironwood (Ostrya virginiana). 25 to 40’ tall and wide. Grows 8 to 12” per year. No significant flower or fall color, just a dependable small shade tree. Full sun to half shade. Well-drained soil.

**Hornbeams have lustrous foliage and sensuous bark. They also tend to hold their foliage long into the winter and so are often planted to serve as tall hedges.**

Hornbeam (Carpinus betulus, European; C. caroliniana, American). 40-60’ tall, 30-40’ wide. 8 to 12” growth per year. American hornbeam or musclewood smaller by half and slower to grow than European. Inconspicuous flower. Fall color late, yellow, variable by year. Smooth steel gray bark more or less fluted like a well-muscled, flexed biceps. Best in full sun and well-drained soil.

**Katsura foliage is captivating for its rich color in summer, lack of insect and disease damage, and the sound it makes in a wind.**

Katsura (Cercidiphyllum japonicum). 40’ tall, may be taller; variable in width. Blue-green foliage is purple while leafing out, yellow in fall. Grows 1-2’ per year. No significant flower or fruit. Best in rich, moist, well-drained soil in full sun.

**Mountain silverbell tends to be low-branched, so it may need pruning of lower limbs while young to obtain clearance for traffic in its shade.**

Mountain silverbell (Halesia monticola). 60’ tall by about 40’ wide, upright or conical in form. Grows 12-18” per year. White or pale pink bell flowers hang from the branches in May. Fall color is not usually notable. Part sun is best. Moist, well-drained soil.

Article and illustrations by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

Janet’s Journal: Picking a size: Buy plants big or start them small?

May 2, 2020 • 3 Comments

Once, we felt fortunate to find the type of plant we wanted. Now, what was unusual is common and the problem is deciding which size to buy. How to choose between pots of varying sizes, divisions, cells or even balled and burlapped? Here’s some help.

Here we are at the garden center, wrestling once again with that essential question: When picking a size, is it better to pay more, for immediate satisfaction, by buying the largest specimen? Or is a smaller plant the wiser investment?

The answer is a classic: It depends. But current research is providing objective, specific and sometimes surprising information that may weigh in your decision.

While growing in the field, this river birch had a root mass in balance with its branch spread, 6 feet wide or more. Its garden center root ball may seem large and is certainly heavy, yet it’s not 6 feet but 2-1/2 feet across and contains just 5 to 18 percent of the fine roots the tree had in the field. (Estimate per Gary Watson, Morton Arboretum, in Extension bulletins issued by several Midwest States and in his book *Principles and Practices of Planting Trees and Shrubs*.)

General buying guideline: Roots rule and water pays the bills

No matter what plant you’re buying, choose the package that delivers more roots in a wider formation, and plan to water attentively until the plant resumes growing as well as it did in its production field.

All plant parts begin as soft growth—as leaf, shoot or root tip. 95 percent of that growth is water, which enters the equation as a puddle sinking into the soil, pushing into soft root tips and being drawn up by photosynthesis to the leafy part of the plant. The winner in any growing contest will be the plant with enough roots to serve its whole top, spread to cover a wider surface that “catches” a bigger puddle.

Roots develop only when leaves produce more sugar and starch—energy—than they need to sustain themselves and woody parts nearby. As the root system expands, more water can enter a plant, which can then support more leaves. So leaves and roots grow in balance, equal in mass and in width of spread.

These viburnum shrubs are being grown in the flat pan method, for minimal root loss at transplant time. They’re given a relatively shallow but very wide circle of loose soil in which to grow. At sale time, each is lifted with roots intact, weighing much less than if it had been dug to make a traditionally-configured root ball.

When a plant must be dug from one place to be planted in another, root loss is inevitable. When the plant is grown in a container that prevents roots from spreading as wide as the branches, it can’t make use of natural, wide puddles but becomes reliant on a near-constant flow of water through its small area of ground, via frequent watering or trickle irrigation.

It may be a year or more before a transplant’s leaves manufacture significant spare energy and roots begin to recoup their loss. As long as the roots remain “behind,” the plant will grow fewer new leaves each spring than it should. In such a year, total root growth can’t measure up to potential, either. A few or many years can pass during which the top remains the same size or even shrinks and the roots slowly increase, until balance and normal growth resumes.

If you have your choice in seedling trees, choose the largest root collar diameter—girth at the base of the stem. This measure is regarded by producers of seedlings for reforestation as the best single predictor of the tree’s survival and growth in the field.

Trees: Smaller is often better

When instant gratification is an operative factor, you can’t persuade yourself or anyone else to buy small. But if you think putting a larger tree in the ground is a jump start toward a shaded yard or the glory of a full-sized ornamental tree, think again. Small trees often catch up to larger trees planted at the same time and may keep growing faster for decades.

Tree roots grow out, not down. So to stay balanced in mass and spread with the top, they spread wider than the branches. Even small trees have wide root systems. If a conventional pot or root ball was cut wide enough to encompass all of a substantial tree’s roots, it would be an unmanageable package for grower, garden center employee and you. Thus all trees sold at a garden center are unbalanced with the possible exception of bare root trees, seedlings or “whips,” and those grown in the unfortunately-uncommon flat-pan method.

The larger the top of the tree, the more out of balance its for-sale root ball. So the largest trees take the longest to regain balance and resume growth.

We buy trees rated according to their trunk diameter: “one-inch caliper,” “two-inch caliper,” etc. Studies show there is a direct relationship between this trunk size and root re-establishment time. For every inch in trunk diameter, a properly-sited, well-watered tree will take at least one year and possibly longer to recoup its losses. Smaller trees recover faster than larger trees—one year for a one-inch tree, five years or more for a four-inch tree.

That means a one-inch tree may shake off its shock and resume growing roots at a normal rate even during its transplant year. For most tree species, it’s normal to lengthen each root about 18 inches during a typical, zone 4-5 growing season. With that much new root, the tree is able to produce leaves and extend its branches to full potential the following spring—18 inches or more for fast-growing species like silver maple or river birch, 12 to 18 inches for moderate growers such as red oak and katsura, and 6 to 12 inches for slow-growing American hornbeam or bur oak.

Meanwhile, a four-inch caliper tree will take five years to return to this norm. It may extend its roots and its branches only an inch or two in year one, and continue to creep in growth over the next four years.

Exception: In seedling trees, pick the largest

So where you want one or a few trees, the fastest possible growth, shortest term of critical care and healthiest trees in the long run, buy small rather than large.

However, if your aim is to replant a forest or start your own grove of trees, seedlings or unbranched young trees called “whips” are usually the way to go. In that case, bigger is better. Given a choice of many whips, choose those which are thickest at their stem base. If all have the same size stem base but some are taller, choose the taller.

Pacific Regeneration Technologies, a network of reforestation nurseries in Canada and the U.S., has compared survival and growth rates of smaller and larger seedlings in the field. Although there are many variables that can affect these plantings, PRT’s findings are persuasive—thicker and taller seedlings have higher survival and growth rates. In one study of Douglas fir, the differences in survival and height remained almost unchanged even 21 years after planting.

Shrubs: Hedging changes the bet

Shrubs and trees are the same in many ways, including best planting size. The wider the roots and the closer they are to being balanced with the top, the more quickly that shrub will “take” and the better its long-term prospects.

Shrubs to be used as hedging are exceptions. Smaller shrubs, even seedlings, almost always outgrow larger plants when planted in close rows. A hedge begun with smaller plants is ultimately fuller, healthier and requires less care. Even most important, the hedge grown from seedlings or small shrubs is less likely to suffer middle-of-the-row losses as it ages.

Competition for water is why large-plant hedges fall short in speed and fullness, compared to hedges begun with smaller plants. Larger plants have larger root balls and once planted, each one has proportionately less root-growing space.

When roots are in direct competition with other roots, they grow slowly, if at all. It makes no difference that competing roots are from a related plant and the two sets of roots, if growing vigorously, could graft and become a single system. A line of large plants with root balls tucked one against the next is a line of plants with only half its roots free to grow. At best, those plants can grow at half capacity.

In addition, smaller plants have been sheared fewer times, so they’re less dense and cast less shade on other plants’ bases. A hedge grown from whips becomes and remains full at the bottom. Larger shrubs, pruned repeatedly for fullness before being sold to the hedge planter, thin out at the base and rarely regain density as they grow together.

A hedge that began with crowded roots remains weak. The weakest individuals are in the center, where competition was most fierce, side roots atrophied and each plant’s root mass remained small. Years and even decades later the hedge crowded at planting is most likely to be affected by drought, severe winters or seasons of high insect or disease occurrence. The plant in that hedge most likely to die is one in the middle.

Every perennial is divisible. Making one from many gives each division a faster start and better long-term outlook. The peony division on the right could grow roots freely from only one side when snugged up to its sister shoots. Separated, it can grow to all sides. Within the mother clump, it might have initiated two shoots, and stored energy to make four the next year. Alone, it might form three or four shoots this year and create enough stored energy to break ground with five or six stems next spring.

Perennials: Buy what you can afford, but give them rooting space

Trees, shrubs, vines and bulbs are perennials, as are those plants in the group most commonly called perennial—herbaceous flowering species from anemone to zebra grass. I hope you’ll keep in mind that every perennial is alike in a way that should influence your choice in plant size. That is, they all store energy this year for next year’s growth.

So buy perennials for the roots. Select the biggest, widest root system.

Avoid root-bound plants of any kind. Plants absorb most water and grow new roots primarily from root tips. Since this plant’s roots turned at pot edge and grew down, all of those tips are now crowded at the bottom, a very small area, but now it’s all the plant has from which to draw water. Since roots will drain that spot more quickly than water from surrounding soil can move in, the plant may dry out even if the soil around the root ball is moist. Also, new roots erupting from that tiny spot will each be in close competition with the others. The process of expanding its root system will be slow. (Although it’s a setback to the plant, my best bet is to cut the roots to create new root ends in more areas.)

As far as the roots spread by the fall of one year, that’s as much area as the plant’s top will cover the following year. So do everything you can to encourage roots to spread during their first year.

If you buy perennials of any type for immediate impact, you will probably also plant them close together. That’s fine, if this year’s show is all that counts. However, to make the most of those plants over the long run, understand that crowded roots won’t grow as much this year as they could, so next year’s top growth will be less and plants will be weaker overall. If you must crowd for immediate show, enjoy the display then dig and replant the component parts farther apart.

To cover the most ground for the least money, buy smaller perennials. (But not too small—see the notes about annuals and vegetables, below.) If the plant you want is available only in large pots, buy those and divide them as you plant.

Annuals and vegetables: Pay-off’s in the larger cell

For healthy, lush annuals and vegetables, space them as directed. That is, if the pot tag says “space plants 12 inches apart,” give every one its own square foot. A flat of 48 plants can cover 48 square feet—a 4-foot by 12-foot bed.

Want a more spectacular show, sooner? Do what botanical gardens do—keep the spacing the same but start with bigger plants. The higher cost per square foot pays off in immediate display.

Since most studies are on vegetables, we need to apply that data to annuals—there are enough parallels to make the comparison worthwhile. For instance, vegetables that flower earlier go to market sooner. Those that are healthier bear larger fruit and have fewer pests, so more of the fruit is cosmetically perfect and sells for a higher price. We value early flowering and health in bedding plants, too.

Trials run in Michigan, Kentucky, Missouri, Georgia and Minnesota on tomatoes, broccoli, cabbage, pepper and watermelon planted from various size cells, showed that the largest transplants yielded earlier and/or more. From larger sets the first picking of tomatoes and peppers was up to twice as great. The broccoli crop was 25 percent more, cabbages 16 percent heavier and watermelon harvest 7 percent higher. We flower growers may not be big on math, but we can still see that sometimes it can be worth spending 50 percent more for the chance at doubling the show!

Parting shot: Small plants more foolproof

Still not sure what to do? In such cases, I buy small. It pays off, especially when I’m not sure what the plant can do or where it will grow best.

Big, bushy plants can fool me by looking big and bushy even as they lose ground—who notices ten leaves gone when there were 200 to start?

A plant that comes to me with just ten leaves tells me clearly, week by week, how things are going. If it’s thriving, its leaf count increases and the new foliage matches the old in size and color. If it begins to lose ground, that’s also quickly apparent. If it seems a move is in order to correct the situation, that’s simpler with a small plant too!

Article and illustrations by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

ALSO… How Much are the trees in your yard worth?

ELSEWHERE: Planting a tree successfully requires the correct planting depth

Janet’s Journal: The Five Plants You Meet in Heaven

March 4, 2020 • 5 Comments

With apologies to Mitch Albom and thanks to Mike Bosnich…

On the day she died, Diane was working on her rain garden. She had become known in the neighborhood as ‘the woman digging the ditch.’ The small children of the neighborhood had told her this. Little kids liked her. To them, she wasn’t the woman digging the ditch but “the lady with the flowers.”

This oak may be 400 years old. It has seen much in four centuries, but nothing quite so devastating as building construction. It may seem quite far from the house that was constructed, but its roots were affected. Note the dead limbs and the flat top that developed when central limbs slowed in growth or declined.

She dug, week by week for over a year, not a ditch, but depressed channels beginning at downspouts then joining, sloping and widening toward the wet area. She disconnected the downspouts from plastic drain tiles that had emptied into the storm drain. Now, rainwater from the roof coursed along the route she’d chosen and settled into that low space.

She’d planted tiny divisions of wetland plants there, and retained the edge of the sunken area with rough cedar logs and fieldstone. She was almost done, the day she died.

It came quickly. An aneurysm, they’d tell her husband.

What she knew was being very tired suddenly, and sitting down at the edge of the rain garden, thinking of salamanders. Light flashed. She closed her eyes.

She opened them to see the oak.

Selma’s massive white oak. Someone who knew trees had guessed it was 400 years old when Selma and her husband built their house nearby.

Shaking her head as if to clear a mirage, Diane stood. Under her feet she found not her rain garden but Selma’s patio. As she looked out across the big yard to the huge tree, a soft rumble filled her head, then sorted itself into words.

*Rain garden*. Modern building practice has been to grade properties toward streets, packing the surface soil so rainwater runs off, along paved surfaces and into storm drains. A great deal of pollutants run with it. City planners are trying now to correct this problem by advocating the use of rain gardens—wide, shallow depressions that are natural water filters where water can slow and sink in.

“You’ve come. I’ve waited for you.”

“Who…? What…?” she wondered.

“Me. You call me oak. We were acquainted. After I died I was given the job of waiting here until you died.”

“You died? Oh, what a shame… Wait. I died?”

“We died. Don’t be alarmed. You just need time to see it. My death took much longer than yours. I was given more time to prepare. Now, we’re both here and I can tell you about how you killed me.”

“I killed you? No! I helped Selma save you!”

“You had good intentions. I knew that. Now, I must tell you how it came out, and introduce you to others you affected. Sit. Listen.”

She sat.

“I grew in this good place a long time, and was still growing,” rumbled the oak. “People camped. Collected my nuts to grind into meal. Happy people, singers. With many children. They came and went, carrying their homes with them.”

“Indians?” Diane wondered.

“I suppose. Hunters. Fishers. They stopped coming when the farmers came. The farmers rested horses beneath my branches, and plowed above my roots.”

“Then, machines came. They tore down into my roots, there where you are sitting. They crushed the ground between us, heaped soil over my roots, and packed it down. You told Selma to help me.”

“Yes!”

“She did, with water and by loosening that soil. But it took many seasons to grow those roots that were taken from me, and other ones died when they could not breathe. I would have needed many, many seasons to heal.”

“I told Selma to put mulch under you, to get rid of the grass. You were looking better!”

“Yes, at first. You told her also that she could plant bulbs. Spring bulbs, you said, that could bloom each year before my new leaves came. They were very pretty flowers. They didn’t mean to kill me, any more than you did.”

“But how…”

“Selma got older, slower. She wanted more bulbs but thought she couldn’t plant them herself. She hired people. They planted bigger, fancier flowers, more every year. They used drills to make holes. They cut more roots each time. I couldn’t keep up.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It happens. But look—I’m here, but also still there.”

“There? That other house?”

“Selma’s children. They sent me to a mill, and built a house, a table, a stairway of me.”

“Why tell me this?

“Because that’s how it works. We leave there, we come here, we look at how we are all connected.”

“I never meant…”

“I know. But now you see how things add up. I learned too. About smaller trees I shaded out, squirrels I nourished, small children who fell from my branches.”

“Now,” said the oak, “you must meet the others.”

“Others? Wait…”

But the light dimmed, and she was back where she’d died, in her rain garden.

She was standing and looking toward the neighbor’s.

“Come here!” sang a merry chorus. She saw a cluster of cheery white strawberry flowers, each canted toward her.

“So glad to see you, so glad to say thank you,” they trilled.

“For what?” she asked, stepping toward them.

“For water! Yes! For chicken manure! Oh, yes!” They appeared to be calling and answering, a song in two parts.

“But you’re not in my garden,” Diane said, crouching to watch them more closely.

“No, but we’re downhill, aren’t we?!” they said. “You left the water on. It rolled down the lawn, where it’s packed so hard. It came to us cool, and loaded with the fertilizer you spread there!”

“Well, I’ll be…” she said, looking toward her own home and noticing for the first time the slight uphill grade from the strawberry bed to her house.

“The kids came to see us, we gave them fruit. Then chipmunks, rabbits, and groundhogs. It was a party!”

“It was?” she wondered. “It isn’t any more?”

“Nothing lasts forever,” the sweet voices answered. “That channel intercepts the water now. We’ve moved on!”

“Am I supposed to learn from that? That you grew because of my sprinkler, and then I stopped it by making the rain garden?”

“Yes, learn that it happened. That things flow downhill,” they called in close harmony.

A gardener should be thorough in assessing a site, picking plants to match it, and deciding why particular plants fare well (above photo) or poorly there (bottom photo, far left plant). For instance, we think of astilbe as a shade plant, but moisture and cool temperatures may be more crucial to its health. It can grow even in full sun if the soil there does not dry out.

“Well, thank you for telling me,” she said.

“Are you done, then?” came another chorus, thinner and more raspy.

Diane looked toward the sound, to see a throng of astilbe. Droopy, singed, thin astilbe. “Oh, she said. What happened to you?”

“We dried up,” was the crackling reply. “Because Ralph did well!”

The plants’ leaves suddenly formed pointing arms. Diane looked that way to see a lush, glossy, deep green astilbe on the far edge of the strawberry bed.

“I didn’t want any trouble,” Ralph cried. “I never asked for your water and fertilizer!”

“Oh,” she said. “You too?”

“Yes, me too. I kept getting it even when the strawberries were cut off, since I’m ahead of your ditch. But my brother, Shelby, on the other side of this crabapple, didn’t.”

Diane stopped, looking at that group of scorched astilbe. Their rustling movement became a blur. The sound changed.

She looked up, into blue green leaves riffled by wind, and around at striped gray bark. At a thicket of some kind.

The riffle changed tone. It became applause.

Voices joined in. “Thank you! Brava!”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, of lifelong habit. “But, I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are. Where we are. What you are happy about.”

“Serrrrrrrr-viceberry,” the leaves said, sliding against each other. And some giggled. “You gave us this place, all this room to grow, and the ticklish feeling of these birds in our branches every summer.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, looking through the foliage to a field, a rise and a dip, and a far horizon of dark water. “I don’t think I’ve ever been here.”

“Maybe not, but the man with one leg was. You knew him. You talked, and he let us grow.”

The voices waited then, murmuring just a little among themselves. Diane looked down, thinking.

“There was a man, I saw him at the doctor’s a few times. That man?”

Applause again. “That man! You told him he could manage. Not to sell his family’s farm and move in with his daughter. He could. He did. He stopped mowing out here, though. And we grew.”

Serviceberry (*Amelanchier* species) are pioneer trees, often the first to populate a field once farming or mowing stops. Seeds may be dropped by passing birds. They’re native throughout Michigan, an important food source for birds and small mammals, and attractive additions to a landscape.

“So this thanks is for saying encouraging things, polite conversation?”

Laughter, light, louder, then light again, brushed back and forth through the branches. “You see! Everything we do, matters. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” she said, looking toward the distant water. “Hey, maybe I have been here! Is that Lake Superior? Are we in the U.P.?”

She looked back to the serviceberries, and started. They were gone. Her nose was just inches from a fence.

She began to step back. A whisper came through the spaces between the wood slats. “Wait. I need to say thanks.”

She paused, looking through the opening. Twigs scratched across the gap. “Are you on the other side of the fence?” she wondered.

“Yes. Thank you for the air,” was the scratchy response. “You told them to give us a fence that lets air through.”

“I can’t think who you mean, or which fence this is,” she apologized.

“You talked in line, at a store. They were putting up a privacy fence. You told them plants do better if there’s air. They hadn’t thought of that.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” she said, bewildered. “Can I ask a question?”

“Oh, please do!” tapped the twigs.

“First, can I see you better?”

“Certainly!” came the scritchy answer. “There’s a gate there.”

In the gateway, she froze. She saw her childhood home, its property line planted with lilac. “I told people about a fence, and those people were living in the house where I grew up?”

“Small world, isn’t it?” tapped the lilacs.

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

Janet’s Journal: Gardeners and builders, save those trees

July 2, 2019 • 2 Comments

Builders are not tree specialists and may not even know the full effect of construction on a landscape. Unless you explain and enforce concepts such as the fragility and extent of a root zone,work will expand into that zone. — Builders are not tree specialists and may not even know the full effect of construction on a landscape. Unless you explain and enforce concepts such as the fragility and extent of a root zone, work will expand into that zone.

Here are tips to help you preserve your landscape during a remodeling or construction project

People are digging in these days.Not digging into the soil to make a garden, but digging in on their property to improve it by adding on or remodeling their homes. Ironically, this often increases the property value in one way while reducing it in another, unexpected way.

I’m talking about established trees and landscapes, overlooked assets that are often lost during and after construction. Sometimes, the loss is unavoidable. Even if you wanted to preserve a particular tree or group of shrubs during the construction process, it might not be possible. More often, the loss is the result of oversight, ignorance or miscommunication.

The loss can be huge, in tangible and intangible forms. First, there’s resale value to consider. Surveys by realtor groups (involving photos of homes with and without trees and shrubs) asked how much prospective buyers would pay for the various properties. The surveys indicated that landscaping can add 20 percent to the value of a home. Greenery in general, but large trees especially, garnered positive responses.

Then there are living expenses and quality of life. Energy conservation studies have proven that shade trees can significantly reduce heating and cooling costs. Environmental research concludes that established plants can cut noise levels and improve air quality, with attendant reduction in medical costs and stress-related illness for residents. And although numbers may never be able to convey the value of peace of mind, a majority of people agree that it comes in increasing amounts with beautiful surroundings filled with butterflies and birdsong.

Finally, communities lose when landscapes are degraded by construction. Many cities and regional authorities are dedicating public funds to the quest for cleaner water and lower water treatment costs. Such campaigns focus on educating the public about how actively growing, diverse plantings promote water quality by intercepting, holding and biologically filtering rain that would otherwise pick up pollutants as it runs along pavement and hard-packed soil.

It’s in your best interest to hold onto both the direct and indirect returns your landscape provides. Building professionals are not skilled in tree and landscape preservation. If you’re planning to build onto your home or remodel, or you aim to build new and want to keep all or part of the landscape, you must learn how to be an effective advocate for your trees and other greenery.

There are five points in the construction process when you should think and act to preserve your landscape. When you first consider construction, at your first serious meeting with a building contractor, just before construction begins, during the work and after the building project is complete, there are things you should know and do.

When the general public is polled,we learn that an established landscape can increase a home’s value by 20 percent… — When the general public is polled, we learn that an established landscape can increase a home’s value by 20 percent…

…to a gardener, the landscape may count for more than the house!

When you first consider construction

Your role as a landscape advocate begins when you first consider adding on, remodeling or building new. Begin by identifying “must save” plants. Then hire an arborist and/or a horticulturist, or train yourself to evaluate the health and replacement cost of those trees as well as the adaptability and moveability of shrubs and smaller plants. Get a written estimate of the replacement value of plants and detailed plans for protection and after care. It’s an invaluable item, both for your consideration as you weigh construction options and costs, and as a means to increase builders’ awareness and respect for the landscape.

You or your arborist/horticulturist consultant should also prepare a map of your property that shows the location and extent of the root zones of plants to be saved. You’ll use this to direct construction traffic and deploy protection for these invisible, surprisingly fragile and irreplaceable elements of your landscape.

Pamper “keeper” plants right from the start. Don’t wait until the plant has been damaged—for some damage is almost inevitable during construction. Fertilize your plants and begin or maintain a good watering program to build their stamina.

If you can’t protect most or all of the root zone, it’s not realistic to have that plant on your “keeper”list.This is especially true of species that are intolerant of root disturbance,such as this 70- year-old beech.The root zone extends to and beyond the tree’s drip line.Less than one-third of that area was protected. The tree died within the year. — If you can’t protect most or all of the root zone, it’s not realistic to have that plant on your “keeper” list. This is especially true of species that are intolerant of root disturbance, such as this 70-year-old beech.The root zone extends to and beyond the tree’s drip line. Less than one-third of that area was protected. The tree died within the year.

Discuss all grade changes before the fact. Excess soil piled in the root zone and against the trunk are almost certain death to a tree.The tree also suffers crushed and broken roots from the equipment which spread that soil. — Discuss all grade changes before the fact. Excess soil piled in the root zone and against the trunk are almost certain death to a tree. The tree also suffers crushed and broken roots from the equipment which spread that soil.

Deciding which trees to protect and placing barriers and cushions are good first steps toward preserving the landscape.Don’t slip up on the followthrough. If you hide your head in the sand during construction your precautions can fail.This oak’s protected root zone was breached and the soil there compacted. When the grade beyond was raised, water couldn’t drain. The tree died in two years. — Deciding which trees to protect and placing barriers and cushions are good first steps toward preserving the landscape. Don’t slip up on the follow-through. If you hide your head in the sand during construction your precautions can fail. This oak’s protected root zone was breached and the soil there compacted. When the grade beyond was raised, water couldn’t drain. The tree died in two years.

At the first planning meeting with your builder or work crew

Identify and stake out the exact placement of new buildings or structures. Determine where the grade will change and how much, whether it will be built up or cut away. Discuss all trenching and excavating ahead of time, in detail. You and your landscape experts need this information to plan specific protective measures and negotiate changes in building plans.

List all work functions that will take place on your property and where each will occur, including material storage, fuel storage, parking areas and places where paint and concrete will be mixed or dumped. Compare this to your keeper plant list and root zone map.

Plan a mutually agreeable vehicle and equipment route into the work area. Aim for a straight route, since every turn of equipment means more churning of soil and increased risk of scrapes and bumps to nearby plants. Allow for a track at least eight feet wide, as anything less represents an unreasonable expectation.

All trenching and excavation should be planned for minimal impact on “keeper” plants.Help your builder understand the effects and explore options. A trench for utility lines detoured around this oak, unfortunately, cutting through at least half of the roots along the outer edge of the circular root zone. — All trenching and excavation should be planned for minimal impact on “keeper”
plants. Help your builder understand the effects and explore options. A trench for utility lines detoured around this oak, unfortunately, cutting through at least half of the roots along the outer edge of the circular root zone.

A less intrusive option is to trench straight toward the tree and then bore under the main roots and trunk.Builders may not think this is necessary or possible since as non-gardeners they imagine the roots to be very deep.Here the main roots are visible at normal depth, within the top 18 inches of soil. — A less intrusive option is to trench straight toward the tree and then bore under the main roots and trunk. Builders may not think this is necessary or possible since as non-gardeners they imagine the roots to be very deep. Here the main roots are visible at normal depth, within the top 18 inches of soil.

When you make a root zone map of the property,you can deny access to the root zone of individual “keeper”plants. Sometimes it’s better to fence off entire areas, as here where root zones are protected behind this construction fence. — When you make a root zone map of the property, you can deny access to the root zone of individual “keeper”plants. Sometimes it’s better to fence off entire areas, as here where root zones are protected behind this construction fence.

Now you may have to modify your “keeper plant” list. Be realistic. You may have to change some plants’ status from “keeper” to “remove,” “move to save,” “keep but cut back,” “tie back,” etc. Then, for every plant that remains on the list, plan ways to protect not only the visible parts but the soil and roots. An eight-inch depth of mulch has been proven to be more effective in protecting the soil from compaction and roots from crushing than any other construction site device, including heavy plywood “paving.” Discuss this with the builder along with tarp coverage beneath material storage areas and where falling debris is expected, and where you will accept the greater cost but lesser damage to plants that comes from drilling beneath root zones rather than trenching through them.

Finally, before any work begins, discuss and list who will be responsible for plant removals and obtaining necessary permits (many communities require tree removal permits). Establish who will execute plant moves, when they will be done and how all parties will know that the involved areas are “all clear.” List, too, who will be in charge of putting up and maintaining protective fencing and padding, creating the cushioned vehicle and equipment route, and explaining all of these features and their importance to workers. Expect to be an active player throughout construction.

When construction is about to begin

Now it’s time to move, elevate or cap sprinklers, prune or tie back at-risk trees and shrubs, prepare the vehicle route and place fences and protective devices.

On the access route, peg down landscape fabric first. Its presence will confirm the original grade when it comes time for clean-up. Have eight inches of mulch dumped on the route, beginning at the entrance with successive truckloads rolling over already-mulched ground.

Place fences and barriers. Keep two things in mind as you do this. One, if there is space, workers will use it. Two, people need room to work. It’s true that work expands to fit the available space, so barriers are necessary, but they must not hamper the work.

Post signs, even if you feel they are redundant or obvious. “Fuel storage,” “dump excess concrete here,” “stay out, loose soil” are some messages you want to communicate clearly.

Expect to pay extra to protect plants and soil. The construction industry is not aware of its full impact on plants, does not go back to see the consequences years later, and has not been asked to consider the cost of effective protection in its estimates. So be prepared to buy or pay extra for tarps to cover paint mixing areas, “bulldog” type porous tarps to protect shrubs from falling debris or paint, and increased labor to carry in rather than truck certain materials across the soil.

During construction

Your most important act during construction is to stay involved. Many gardeners have described how they felt the need to detach themselves, to avoid looking at what was happening in their yard, and afterward go through a process of reclaiming the space. This is understandable but precisely the wrong thing to do.

Get out there, every day, to see what’s happening, to communicate with the workers and to tend to your plants, which cannot detach themselves. Be ready to prune off broken branches as soon as the damage happens, move fences to enlarge or reconfigure protected areas, add mulch or tarps, etc.

Stand up for your plants. You are the expert when it comes to their needs and condition. Do whatever you must to maintain the protection you intended and to continue watering and other essentials during construction.

At this point you should recognize that there is a language barrier between gardeners and builders, and compensate for it. Even simple terms like “soil” have different meanings to both, leading to variable interpretations of acceptable quality and density. A concept such as “root zone” may be incomprehensible to a carpentry crew, or exist in an altered state in their minds so that any conversation that involves the term must be confirmed with diagrams and clarifying questions, just as “load bearing wall” may be Greek to you until it’s drawn out. Although there are individuals fluent in both “gardenerese” and “contractorese,” you should assume until proven wrong that everything you say can and will be misinterpreted.

I’ve been admonished, in preparing this material, to prepare myself for righteous anger from those in construction fields, who may think that in speaking of all a homeowner must do to protect their landscape I am belittling the skills construction workers have and their sense of responsibility. I hope that I’m making it clear that I do respect skilled and responsible construction workers but at the same time I know that my expertise and that of any gardener deserves as much respect. We are expert in our differing disciplines and when we share the same ground, we must communicate carefully. That begins with respect, extends through explanations of technical terms on both sides, and is never hurt by a few shared cold lemonades on a hot day.

After construction ends

Inspect your plants and the soil for damage. Photograph the plants. These images may be invaluable as benchmarks to assess their recovery.

Make your landscape a garden once more. Remove the excess mulch, landscape fabric, protective fencing and tarps. Aerate the soil. Check that sprinklers are working, and make necessary repairs and adjustments. Untie tied-back plants, bring back temporarily relocated plants, and add new plants.

Watch for signs of stress. These signs may not show up right away—in fact, symptoms of stress may not show up for months or a year in larger plants. The bigger the plant, the longer you may have to keep it under watch.

Give stressed plants kid-glove treatment. Watering is the most important thing you can do, but special fertilizing, pruning and patrolling for particular pests that prey on weakened plants of that type may be in order too. Follow the plan that you made for the plant or had made way back in phase one. It all comes together now, when you see your plants resume the growth rates and beauty they possessed before you were possessed by the construction bug.

You can tell when your trees and shrubs recover from construction stress.Monitor and compare the current growth rate to pre-construction or the species’ average growth rate (listed in books such as Manual of Woody Landscape Plants by Michael Dirr).This sugar maple branch grew just three inches in a year, evident in the differing color of new and old wood.The species’average rate is 8 to 12 inches.It’s still recovering and still needs special attention. — You can tell when your trees and shrubs recover from construction stress. Monitor and compare the current growth rate to pre-construction or the species’ average growth rate (listed in books such as *Manual of Woody Landscape Plants* by Michael Dirr). This sugar maple branch grew just three inches in a year, evident in the differing color of new and old wood. The species’average rate is 8 to 12 inches. It’s still recovering and still needs special attention.

Another way to gauge stress and recovery is leaf size and color. If leaves are smaller than normal or discolored, the plant is stressed.This oak leaf is chlorotic—the plant equivalent of anemia. Chlorosis is as often an indication of root damage as it is mineral deficiency. So pamper this oak with aeration, steady watering and special fertilizer until the leaves tell you it is recovered.

Watching for signs of stress after construction

Symptoms may be immediate or delayed:

Wilting or shedding of foliage during or right after construction.
Development of early fall color or leaves dropping early that season or the season following construction.
Reduced leaf size and shoot growth the next season or later.
Twig or branch loss the next season or later. More needles may drop than are produced on an evergreen. The plant may appear thinner,more transparent.
General growth, appearance and pest resistance may be poor, and secondary problems may appear.

Helping the plant recover

From April through November, water deep and slow throughout the plant’s entire root zone whenever the soil a few inches deep is dry and warm.
Check root growth (dig test hole at drip line) and resumption of pre-construction twig growth rate to determine when the plant has fully recovered.
For every inch of trunk diameter, expect a one-year lag before regular growth resumes.

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

Janet’s Journal: The plant whisperer – What do you say, what do you hear?

May 16, 2019 • 4 Comments

What can it hurt to talk to your plants? Maybe it does nothing for the plants, but it makes you a better, more observant, attentive and cheerful gardener

In the 1960s a corn plant (Dracaena) stuck its leaf into a polygraph and started the world talking about plant-speak. Lie detector expert Cleve Backster lectured and gave interviews about the experience although the scientific world dropped the topic after having a good laugh. — In the 1960s a corn plant (*Dracaena*) stuck its leaf into a polygraph and started the world talking about plant-speak. Lie detector expert Cleve Backster lectured and gave interviews about the experience although the scientific world dropped the topic after having a good laugh.

Luther Burbank, by all measures a genius for more than 800 plant introductions, including the classic Shasta daisy, readily admitted to talking to his plants. He wrote that plants are telepathically capable of understanding speech. — Luther Burbank, by all measures a genius for more than 800 plant introductions, including the classic Shasta daisy, readily admitted to talking to his plants.

You’ve heard of whisperers. Most well-known are horse whisperers, people gifted in working with frightened, neglected, aggressive, hard-to-handle horses with behavioral problems. These healers came out of the woodwork when Robert Redford added his famous smile to the considerable mystique of horse whispering, yet one group is notably quiet. Plant whisperers remain in the shed, so to speak.

Why is there virtually no coverage in the press and no scientific attention to plant whisperers? When so many do it, when there are high-profile champions of the cause such as Prince Charles (‘Of course I speak to plants’), when slightly wacky lie detector expert Cleve Backster hooked his houseplants to a polygraph, and Alfred Hitchcock story collections featured men going mad once they could hear the voices of grass being cut and vegetables plucked? The conspiracy of silence stretches back even to 1848 when Dr. Gustav Theodor Fechner’s theory of emotive greenery, published in Soul-Life of Plants, sent only a short-lived riffle through the scientific community.

My goal is not an appeal for proof that plants hear us and respond. My point in amplifying the subject of plant whispering is to look at what it does for us, the whisperers. It’s irrelevant whether you believe the plants respond or not. What matters is that you see how good this practice is for those who do the talking.

The author whispers assurances to the weeping pine as it’s wheeled to its new home. It’s just part of the job, keeping the plants informed of the whole situation.

Nine years later, never forsaken by the gardeners who voiced aloud their promises to help it through recovery, it’s still going strong. If it could speak, would it chide us or thank us for putting it into a place of prominence?

Better learning when we hear as well as see

People who study human learning claim that we remember significantly more of what we see and hear than we do of things we heard but didn’t see, or saw without accompanying sound. In that case, we are bound to learn more if we speak to a plant, reinforcing thought with sound.

In addition, researchers have proven that we retain a great deal more information when we move as we learn, matching muscle use to spoken word. Since few can speak to a plant without also stroking a leaf, straightening a stem or gesturing in some way, we are also scribing into our muscles what would otherwise be only a mental and aural memory.

So it makes sense that the gardener who stops to chat is more likely to remember which of his or her charges need water the most, which limbs need staking, or where the bugs hang out. It’s a good bet that person will remember the promises and observations made aloud and then act on that knowledge in ways that improve the garden.

I pay attention when I’m talking

Talking is also a means of focusing attention, and that’s a basic tenet of the whisperers’ craft. Buck Brannaman, famous horse whisperer and consultant on the movie of that name, tells his students to get the horse’s attention first, that if you don’t have that, it doesn’t matter what you do next.

In the case of plants, the benefit doesn’t come from capturing the plant’s attention. It comes when the plant wins your undivided attention.

In talking to a plant, I’m compelled to look for specifics to include in my dialogue. It’s not like the wordless, soothing crooning or repeated generalities like “It’ll be all right” that I might use with a nervous cat in a car. I’m talking to myself as much as to the plant so I’m more likely to be analytical in my plant whisperings. I look for something worthwhile to say, perhaps, “You’re looking greener today” or “How’re those tips, have we finally ousted those pesky mealybugs?” Even if I’m taking a hard line with a plant the conversation is going to focus on particulars, such as, “I warned you that we’d have to cut that branch if you don’t start adding a bit more leaf on the other side!” Because I decide to talk, I look more closely and attend to the details.

An old saying sums it up, “The best fertilizer is the farmer’s footprint.” Attention makes the world greener while lack of attention leads to garden failures. We all know that plants rarely fold up and die overnight, that there are usually early-stage symptoms that an observant person can use to make a diagnosis. It’s also pretty commonly accepted that ministrations in the initial phases of a plant’s decline tend to be more successful than last-ditch efforts applied to the near-dead. Yet ask anyone who works at a garden center about the story given by people who return dead plants, and you’ll hear that it is most often, “I don’t know. It was fine and then it just died.” Such terse individuals are probably not plant whisperers. They didn’t talk and by keeping their mouths closed they failed to open their eyes.

Who can say whether this weeping hemlock survived its ordeal because we chatted it up? From the minute the author tied back its branches for surgery and started to dig, she began talking.

Here it is being trundled to a new spot out of the way of construction workers building a new wing on the house.

While alone in its new spot, the author and other gardeners kept the plant company, whispering regularly to it. Certainly the water they brought it and the intercessions they made to keep construction workers from piling things on its roots made a difference.

Most recently, five years settled and joined by other plants, it has become happy enough to have earned the warning, “I know we said that if you’d hang on and make this move we’d never bother you again but if you keep up growing like that we’re going to have to start pruning you!” — Most recently, five years settled and joined by other plants, the hemlock has become happy enough to have earned the warning, “I know we said that if you’d hang on and make this move we’d never bother you again but if you keep growing like that we’re going to have to start pruning you!”

Synergy from involving others in the conversation

We capture the notice of others when we talk to plants. Not just the bemused neighbor or passerby but important others, people who have something to contribute but might not think to share information except that you piped up first.

As an example, take Pat the gardener and Pat’s handy, loving, but horticulturally-clueless spouse. Pat, leaning close over a small shrub and commiserating: “Oh, that’s not good. Here I thought you were all taken care of but that big old brute lilac is blocking the sprinkler from reaching here, isn’t it? I’ll just have to water you by hand until I can figure a way to move that sprinkler. Maybe you’d like a trickle irrigation line, wouldn’t that be good?”

Pat’s spouse, sitting unnoticed on the far side of the lilac on the patio, thinks: “Ah ha. That would be a perfect thing for a birthday present. I’ll have to ask Pat’s buddy Kim what the heck trickle irrigation is.”

It’s not just something that happens in the family. People of different disciplines do meet and take steps forward for the greater good when the thoughts of one are out there where both can examine them. Claus Mattheck was a mechanical engineer when something, perhaps one of those belt-wearing, saw-wielding plant whisperers known as arborists, made him take a look at trees as structures. Now Mattheck’s book “The Body Language of Trees,” is revolutionizing arboriculture by explaining specific signs that tell of impending breakage and fall.

Talk softly and carry a big smile

Maybe the biggest benefit to the whisperer comes from the quiet, calm nature of whispering. This low level of sound probably applies more naturally and consistently to a plantsperson’s work than to any other whisperers’ job. Animal whisperers embrace non-violent ways, but don’t you suspect that even the best of them has raised his or her voice to a subject, if only to be heard above the crashing of hooves against a stall or baying at an imagined threat? That kind of racket just doesn’t happen with plants. Even when we’re upset with a plant so that we feel it needs rebuke, we don’t stand back, stamp our foot and holler. We practice reason or at least learn to accept events with grace, two strategies that become routine and thus are there as a natural fall-back attitude in stressful non-garden situations.

Are you laughing at yourself or a plant whisperer you know? That’s another benefit of this practice. Who hasn’t pulled up in spring an item they planted in fall, mistaking it for a weed? We recognize the error at sight of the potting mix on the root ball, or when we see that there are three of the supposed weed, regularly spaced in a triangle as weeds never are. Perhaps it’s good for the plant to hear “Oh you poor thing, I’m sorry!” but the grin at your own expense is worth far more.

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

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