QED: dipping into the past again (the 'e's' on easy street)...

Echinocereus knippelianus var. krugeri

 I wish I could remember how many years we grew this: a single plant out on the Dryland Mesa garden at Denver Botanic Gardens. One year I got a picture almost at the peak...two pictures, actually. These (and the rest of this installment) were all lovingly scanned by Ann Frazier--and with a little photoshopping they are better and brighter than they ever were as transparencies! After at least a decade (and likely 15 years) this plant succumbed to this past wretched winter. Glad I got these pix!



Same, slightly more pink.



Echinomastus intertextus

 It is hard to believe this tiny morsel is the same species as the big honker that David Cristiani shows in his blog, but it is indeed. Surely one of the most accommodating, long lived and hardy Chihuahua upland cacti, it is virtually non existent in the trade. Some don't like white flowers: some are nuts!



Engelmannia pinnatifida

 We still have a few of these tucked away here and there at the Botanic Gardens: we had a huge colony that admittedly swallowed up a lot of territory. I rate this as one of the most worthy of yellow composites for cultivation in our region: it is virtually indestructible once established, and sailed through drought cycles unfazed (and seemingly just as happy as in a wet year). Should be on every dry hell strip!


Eremurus fuscus

I am very proud of this 20 year old transparency. I love the contrast of the desert tail (literal translation of the Greek generic) with the misty lavender Turkish veronicas behind (V. "teucrioides") and the contrast of with the red gravel and the dark background--hope you don't mind pointing out all my favorite things about this. I divided the plant when I moved in 2006 and now I have eight or ten, but not as vigorous yet. I grew this from Russian seed. I saw it in Kazakhstan in 2010. It is high on my personal popularity list...



Erigeron vagus

 I feared this would be a weed and I moved it somewhere and it promptly died. I've only seen it a few times in nature. I did the same thing with its soboliferous white flowered cousin from the Beartooth (Erigeron flabellifolius). I will not make the same mistake twice with either of these two treasures. Uggh. (We take pictures to remind ourselves of our follies)...



Eriophyllum lanatum and Salvia x superba in background

 I grew Eriophyllum superbly for years--and one day it was gone. This is destined one day to be a great xeriscape garden plant once someone ELSE discovers it. I been dere, done dat. Until Ann scanned this ancient transparency, I had completely forgotten that I grew a nondescript, but somehow still fabulous Salvia from South Africa outdoors for several years (the wispy plant in the foreground)...I rue that as much as I do the Oregon sunshine (or maybe more).



Eryngium glaciale

 I took this picture above tree line in October of 2001 on the Sierra Nevada above Granada (España). I have grown the plant in Denver, but never so photogenically. I want to grow it again now!



Escobaria vivipara on the Laramie Plains

 I took this picture on a field trip with Ron McBeath--one of my all time heros--fifteen, maybe twenty years ago. I recently visited him and saw he still has an Escobaria in his garden (just about the only cactus there too) undoubtedly from this trip. The white flower is Xylorhiza glabriuscula--which I can guarantee you has never been sold at Walmart! But I would love to grow it in my garden....



Erythronium idahoense

 I sometimes fret about futile, unnecessary things. Such as the sad fact that 98% of the range of this lovely trout lily is now wheat and pea fields on the Palouse of Washington, and the lily is now gone from there. I was very fortunate one day when Richard Naskali--who created the wonderful arboretum in Moscow, Idaho--drove me around the Panhandle in May and I found many, many treasures I'd always yearn to see. This chief among them (although I had collected seeds and a few bulbs in 1976 long before then)...and even bloomed it in two of my gardens.



Erythronium idahoense

 I shall inflict several pictures of this on you: an obscure and utterly wonderful American wildflower. Current treatments have lumped this as var. candidum under E. grandiflorum--but I still like the old name better and will use it (taxonomy is a very flawed art and flawder science: just get a taxonomist drunk and they'll admit it).


Erythronium idahoense

 One last parting shot. "ensnared in flowers, I fall on grass" indeed.
                          God I love that poem...I will type the next verse, just because it's my blog and I can do whatever I want to on it (provided it's not banned or illegal, of course)

                         "....Meanwhile the Mind from pleasure less
                           Withdraws into its happiness.
                           The Mind, that Ocean where each kind
                           Does straight its own Resemblance find.
                           Yet it creates, transcending these
                           Far other worlds and other seas
                           Annihilating all that's made
                           To a green thought in a green shade"

I don't know what the heck Andrew Marvel meant by all that (four centuries ago no less), but I doubt a week has gone by in my life in the last few decades where that stanza doesn't resonate in my brain for a while. Of course, these flowers are our resemblances, just as we are each others, and our mutual bliss does ultimately annihilate all the stupidities and cupidities of mundane life, resolving them in the magic of chlorophyll. The one religion, philosophy and cult I passionately adhere to. Amen...



Eucomis bicolor in the garden

 Here at Denver Botanic Gardens many years ago...



Eucomis bicolor in the wild

 Here on Platberg, twenty years ago....



Eucomis autumnalis

 Furiously green and chartreuse (rather like the euphobias below), I nevertheless would love to  have grown this...


Euphorbia acanthothamnos

I took this picture in Greece almost 20 years ago. I didn't notice the Centaurea at the time. I believe this was at Sounion or nearby there. I have yearned for this plant ever since and assumed it would be hard to grow--until I saw healthy plants at Wurzburg last May. Sheeesh! at WURZBURG...is there no justice?


Euphorbia clavarioides and Dierama robustum on Ben McDhui

 These were very lofty indeed--over 9000' in elevation. Who ever dreamed that succulent Euphorbias and Dieramas would grow together? But they did (and no doubt do)...



Euphorbia rigida at Ephesos

 Why is the red flowered form of E. rigida not in cultivation? It grows right around the ruins at Ephesos for Heaven's sake!



Euryops acraeus at Denver Botanic Gardens, ca 1985

 I grew this and harvested tons of seed for years and one day it disappeared. Boy, would I love to get it back. Saw this at a half dozen botanic gardens in Europe this year--it's still well ensconced in cultivation there.


Euryops acraeus at Denver Botanic Gardens, ca 1985

 Is  this not a yellow composite anyone would love to have?



Eustoma grandiflorum at last stand in Metro area, 1982

 I really should end with this: I took a lot of pictures of this which I have not found (I know there somewhere). Joan Franson summoned me to see this in 1982 and I was amazed to see a meadow full of these just north of I-70 on Kipling. Today this area is a shopping center. Believe it or not, I tried to talk the developer into leaving the area with the Eustoma undisturbed (it could have been done--today it is a sterile lawn). Needless to say, I didn't get very far. I wish they designed emoticons that could convey a blend of bitterness, longing, tragic resignation, and just plain sadness.



Echinocactus texensis and Echinocereus dasyacanthus in seed!

 We still have an E. texensis, but it has never again had such wonderfully colored fruit. The dasyacanthus are now enormous. You take pictures to remind yourself of these things...



Eberlanzia sp. on Roggeveld

Only the most terminal of plant nerds would yearn for a mesembryanthemum with chickenwire armature. But friends, I am that very nerd. Quod erat demonstrandum.

Busman's holiday: a propagator's private garden

Mike Bone in native habitat

 Early August isn't a typical time to go garden touring in Denver--but then again, Mike Bone's private garden is hardly typical. Mike Bone happens to oversee the Propagation department at Denver Botanic Gardens, and is Curator of Steppe Collections. I know many competent horticulturists who live in plantless flats, and others with pedestrian home gardens. But then there are a few afflicted sorts who practice what they preach and strive to create a real garden at their homes: Mike is the poster boy of this last category. I find myself dropping in on Mike many times each year to keep tabs on what he's up to at home--and thought you might like to join me on my recent visit.




A garden of unique combinations

I love all gardens, but so many consist of the same old same old Rudbeckia, Echinacea and Hemerocallis in early August (again and again). Did I mention Perovskia? And my personal bête noire, Karl Foerster grass (insert shuddering emoticon please...). I am pretty sure there isn't another garden in the world with the plants that Mike has combined in this one spot. Do take a moment to read the labels above and marvel at the clever pairings and the astonishing diversity. What this picture doesn't show is that there is a husky Eriogonum jamesii also tucked in on the right and Salvia multicaulis in there as well--and lots of bulbs in the spring. The textures are wonderful, and the color blends are very Colorado..



Another view

Here from a lower angle you can see the wide spread of Mike's orange pineleaf penstemon and James' buckwheat to the right--their fine texture provides the perfect foil for the bold crambe and Agave in the middle, and of course the dark textures behind. This sort of artistry is probably lost on the petunia and marigold crowd, but for a card carrying plant nerd like me, this is Heaven.


Salvia penstemonoides and yellow Hesperaloe

 There is something about that wonderful violet purple Salvia color next to the innocent yellow of the Hesperaloe that summons something deep in me--the sort of pure color moments one has as a child. I have to admit, the Salvia was my pretext for visiting Mike on Friday.



Salvia pentemonoides

 There is something quaint about plants that look like other plants (and this salvia does look like a penstemon), but this Salvia is noteworthy for many reasons. Long thought to be extinct, it was re-discovered by Dan Hosage along a highway in Texas, and was subsequently re-introducued to horticulture rather widely for a while. High Country Gardens touted it, and we had a few husky clumps at Denver Botanic Gardens. And then just as suddenly it seemed to have disappeared (even the re-discovered colony was apparently destroyed in road expansion). I think a few others have been found in the wild, but this plant is nowhere nearly securely ensconced in cultivation yet. When I realized our last plants were gone at the Gardens, I was despondent--until Mike informed me he still had one: his one gets more and more massive by year, and he has harvested many cuttings and lots of seed, and it is being widely shared now once again. Let's hope this time we can firmly establish this wonderful, rare native in horticulture (at least in Colorado!)...


One of Mike's many troughs

How do I pick out my favorite plant in this ensemble: the Opuntia debreczyi 'Potato' loaded with seedpods is a winner, but so is the husky Campanula choruhensis in the lower right. And Hymenoxys scaposa provides a nice touch in the lower left of the trough (yes, Mark, I know that Flora of the US calls this Tetraneuris--old names are still valid, and may be resurrected once again!).


Purple sedum medly

 I so want to copy this trough filled with two dark Hylotelephiums...Horticultural plagiarism is fortunately not illegal. I particularly like the contrasting flourish of the silver Artemisia in the distance--this sort of counterpoint is what makes plantsmen happy.



Bouvardia ternifolia

 We grew a Bouvardia for years in  Dryland Mesa until a zealous and uninformed seasonal worker removed it (out of bloom). I rue it still...



Part of the veggie garden

 Mike doesn't just grow rare and recondite plants--he has a pretty amazing vegetable garden with an array of very productive plants....



Pink banana squash

 Mike had to show off one of his many giant winter squashes that are still getting bigger...AND BIGGER...



Solanu xantii

 Mike has great hopes for this husky, California nightshade--which would make a wonderful xeriscape perennial (or annual for a container come to think of it).



Centranthus lecoqii

 I don't know another garden outside California where you would find the lavender Valerian growing..


Mike alongside Bugmansia

 Wonderful vignettes wherever you look in this garden..



Bighorn skull

 You can't really be a bona fide Colorado garden without a O'Keefe skull of some sort--usually a cow's skill. But Mike has to have our state animal in residence...

A wonderful assortment of hardy cacti in pots



Another luxurious combination of plants in pots and the garden



Talinum calycinum adds a second season of interest to a pot with Pediocactus in it.



Heterotheca jonesii x villosa

 A wonderfully grown specimen of the hybrid golden aster found by Ray Daugherty, Mike's teacher at Front Range Community College...



Thelesperma filifolium

 Mike has long been a champion of these local cousins to Coreopsis--and as you would expect, he has a vigorous stand in his garden grown from seed collected on nearby Table Mountain. One of the common names is "Greenthread"--and it does have an uncanny resemblance to threadleaf coreopsis. Only a heck of a lot more xeric!




Greenhouse/spa room

In the summer I believe this is more a wonderful space for the Jacuzzi, but in the winter the greenhouse is filled with overwintering tender plants, and seedpots galore.

During the day, Mike oversees an ambitious and far flung Propagation program in two greenhouse complexes 18 miles apart: he has assembled an extremely talented team of growers and produces an an enormous volume of plants for staff at the gardens, but also for the Plant Select program, and plant sales.

I know that many plants that enter the Botanic Gardens collections began as cuttings, seed or purchased plants nourished at his home garden, with propagules flowing to DBG. I am sorry to have only shown you a glimpse--there is the better part of an acre of ground here--and although Mike has only been here a few years, he is rapidly transforming the space into one of the Denver area's premier gardens. You must meet the man, and weasel your way out there...I do on a regular basis! I can assure you that you'll walk away inspired!

 

Location, location, location...(some thoughts on zone denial etc.)

Alpine House, Kew in 2010

Kew is generally acknowledged as the greatest botanic garden on Planet Earth: its glorious history, unbelievable herbarium and vast grounds full of treasures will ensure that in perpetuity. I have always thought that the Alpine House at Kew (here shown in its current sleek manifestation) represents the institution's unique and vital plant collections, however, and others (not as rock gardeny as me) have agreed. It would take several thousand blogs to properly treat this treasure trove, but I'd like to examine a few plants here and their location (comparing these to Denver), which I think will help illuminate a few perplexing issues: plant hardiness, invasiveness and zonal denial chief among these...

Inside the alpine house

An overview of one of the many mini-gardens that fill the structure--each and every plant has a story to tell (most of these plants are grown in pots and swapped in and out at their peak show periods--maintaining a breathtaking show through the entire gardening year)...



Salvia daghestanica in the Kew Alpine House

One of the first plants I noticed on entering the Kew alpine house was this lovely specimen of a lovely Salvia first collected by Henrik Zetterlund in southern Russia which has become a beloved Plant Select star performer in Denver. Friends throughout Europe have told me that this wonderful salvia is essentially impossible to grow in a garden: below you can see how it performs in typical xeriscape conditions in Denver: location, location, location!

Salvia daghestanica in Denver

It produces a few more blossoms in our intensely sunny steppe climate as well you notice!



Puya cf. caerulea outside the alpine house
Look below



Closeup of the Puya blossom

 
 Before you start to feel as though Denver is more congenial for growing things than England, consider the puyas: Kew boasts several vast mounds of puyas growing unprotected at the fringes of their rock garden--this would almost certainly perish with the first hard frosts we experience in Denver (Kew is Zone 8--some years barely experiencing frost at all)...location, location, location.l

Boy, would I love to grow this Puya outdoors here: I guess we'll have to settle for agaves and yuccas (although I did see puyas growing very high indeed in the Andes once...)



Scarlet bugler penstemons (left) and Apache plume (far right)

I was amazed to see large masses of our native Penstemon barbatus (which usually grows in relatively dry parts of the American West) thriving in open beds at Kew--and not far from these a very handsome large specimen of Apache Plume (the white mound on the right of the picture): Fallugia paradoxa is even more xeric in its distribution: both of these seem to find Kew's location to be just fine, thank you. Go figure!



Myrtle spurge Euphobia myrsinites

One of the most surprising "treasures" I saw at Kew was this ancient, gnarly, bonsai-like spurge--a plant which is classed as a noxious weed in Colorado! I have seen this Euphorbia lovingly displayed at many European botanic gardens. Euphorbias present some fascinating issues I have discussed elsewhere...how can a plant that is pestiferous in Denver be a treasured alpine house denizen in England? Location, location, location!

I am coining the term "charismatic nega-flora" for plants like this which have inspired a veritable witch-hunt like zeal while the much nastier (but less attractive) Euphorbia esula causes far more trouble in meadows and median strips around Denver (I have pictures to prove this contention). There is a contemptible streak of puritanism in the noxious weed movement that focuses unduly on plants with ornamental merit. If you are reincarnated as a weed--hope that you are homely and you are apt to escape the weed-mongers scythe altogether!



Teucrium chamaepitys in the rock garden at Kew

 Another shocker for me was seeing this rather charming yellow flowered ajuga featured prominently in the Kew rock garden: for me this is an almost uncontrollable weed I remove by the wheelbarrow load from my home gardens. I don't think it was much a problem in cooler England where this may not set as much seed..


Araucaria araucana

 It is entirely possible that seed from very lofty populations of monkey puzzle trees might be induced to survive in Denver--in an extremely protected microclimate perhaps. I have seen a healthy specimen at Willard Bay Gardens in Utah...but we are not apt to have immense, graceful and obviously very happy araucarias in our parks as they do in the lawns at Kew. Location, location, location!



Delosperma cooperi in a glasshouse at Kew

But Delosperma cooperi, grown by the tens of thousands across Denver in just about any soil or exposure, encrusted for months on end with a solid mat of rosy purple flowers was represented at the Royal Botanic Gardens by this rather halting individual in a glasshouse. Location, location, location!

(I like to have the last say!)...

I Stop! for the Delphinium blues....

I stop for Delphinium elatum

 One of the many pleasures of wandering the mountain towns of Colorado in the summertime is to be assaulted by the emphatic blues of delphiniums. The so-called "Pacific Hybrid" forms of Delphinium elatum (which I have observed in the wild in Central Asia--not exactly Oregon) grow just about everywhere, but they seem to grow with special vigor at altitude--and the flowers last all summer long. Here is a particularly striking clump we saw a few days ago in Crested Butte--one of my favorite mountain tourist towns...


A closer look

 I can't think of many garden plants that capture this tint--heavenly blue Morning Glories, perhaps. The true Gentiana farreri. But neither of these have similar dense columns of furious blue...



the white eye enhances the whole effect

More delphiniums...

 These pictures are hardly exceptional--I just happened to like the variety of colors that happened with these--also in Crested Butte...


Dark and light together

 The contrast between one of the darkest navy blue selections and the pale robin's egg is enchanting...



Two tones of soft blue

And here we have two variably tones of Cambridge blue together--also delightful don't you think?

 

Delphinium occidentale

These pictures of the native, wild delphinium of the hills around Crested Butte (on Kebler pass to be exact) is not quite as dazzling as the cultivars...this is one of three tall larkspurs found at higher elevations in our state--all three of which are usually a dark, violet purple color (lovely, but not as dazzling as the true blues).

 

Delphinium grandiflorum

For those with smaller gardens, even on the plains, this miniature Chinese delphinium can be a terrific addition. I have had this persist for many years and it can bloom for weeks in the middle of summer.I took this a few days ago in the garden of Dan Johnson--but mine at home are almost as nice..

Whatever shape or form they come in, the delphinium blues are welcome any time!