Japanese Cherries – April’s Enchanting Sakura

Posted on April 16, 2019 by Janet

Once upon a time, I had this quest to photograph Japanese cherry blossoms – sakura – in lots of beautiful places in the world. I travelled to Japan, of course, and managed to arrive during one of the earliest springs ever, foiling my desire to be there as the storied Somei-Yoshino cherries (Prunus x yedoensis) burst into blossom on bare, brown branches. We had to go north to the mountains of Takayama to find them.

In Kyoto, I visited the Imperial Palace and found Prunus ‘Ojochin’ at the gates. It means ‘large lantern”, and has been in Japanese literature since the 17^th century.

At the Kyoto Botanical Garden, the late-season cherries were in bloom, but I had to get help in Toronto later to translate the labels. This is ‘Yōkihi’, honouring a concubine of an 8^th century emperor of the T’ang Dynasty.

Prunus ‘Asano’ was found in 1926 in a garden in the village of Kami-Yoshida by England’s Collingwood ‘Cherry’ Ingram, a renowned collector of Japanese cherries. Its flowers resemble little chrysanthemums.

‘Hirano-nioi’ (like all cherries with “nioi” in the name) is fragrant.

‘Kirin’ was named for a fiery, dragon-like beast.

‘Ichihara-tora-no-o’, below, means “tiger’s tail”. As Wybe Kuitert says in his book Japanese Flowering Cherries, “With a little imagination, once can see a perfect bigger-than-life size tiger’s tail of cherry blossom in it.”

At Saihoji, the moss temple in Kyoto, a double-flowered cherry leaned over the formal path, contrasting nicely with a tall, magenta azalea behind it.

We visited Gion to watch Miyako Odori, the traditional springtime dance of the country. Naturally, cherry blossoms feature prominently.

In Japan, I found all kinds of pretty cherry blossom confections, including sakura-mochi rice cake and little sakura-adorned crepes.

When I visit London’s Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew in early spring, I always make a point of searching out the Japanese cherry trees. This is a view of the Japanese garden Chokushi-mon (Gateway of the Imperial Messesnger) with a flowering bough of Prunus serrulata ‘Tai-haku’, “the great white cherry”.

‘Hokusai’ was selected by Cherry Ingram in 1925 and named for the woodblock artist Hokusai.

Hokusai, of course, painted many scenes of Japanese life, including the ancient tradition of hanami or cherry blossom watching. This is ‘Mount Fuji Seen Through Cherry Blossoms”.

‘Takasago’ is part of an old collection of Japanese cherries at Kew. It was originally collected by Robert Fortune, and was once known as Prunus x sieboldii or Von Siebold’s cherry.

In Ireland, I found a lovely white-flowered Japanese cherry at Mount Stewart House near Belfast.

Holland isn’t all spring bulbs. The Keukenhof Garden in Lisse has a number of Japanese cherry trees amidst the brilliant tulips and daffodils.

Monet’s beautiful garden at Giverny, France, features a few Japanese cherries. In the Clos Normand flower garden, Prunus serrulata ‘Ama-no-gawa’ (meaning “heaven’s river”, i.e. the Milky Way) shows off its typical fastigiate growth and double, pale-pink flowers.

In the Japanese-inspired garden at Giverny (Monet had a large collection of Japanese art), Prunus serrulata ‘Kanzan’ adds a rosy note beside a stream.

And at Paris’s Jardin des Plantes, Prunus serrulata ‘Kanzan’ (aka ‘Sekiyama’) makes ebullient bouquets outside the Natural History Museum……

….. while forming a flowery underplanting for the Eiffel Tower, below. Many catalogues and articles call this bubblegum-pink cherry by an obsolete name ‘Kwanzan’, but its proper name is ‘Kanzan’, which means “border mountain”. The alternative name ‘Sekiyama’ literally means seki=border + yama=mountain and is in a Japanese plant guide dated 1681. It is the most popular cherry in western countries.

At New York Botanical Garden, I found the unusual green-flowered Japanese cherry ‘Gyoiko’. The name means “coloured court-robes” and references the hues of the costumes worn by the women in the ancient Japanese imperial court.

Someday, I’ll return to New York Botanical to properly photograph the cherries in their collection on Cherry Hill. Here is dependable old ‘Kanzan’ fronting a lovely drift of naturalized daffodils.

On a visit to San Francisco, I watched a woman painting a Japanese cherry at the Tea Garden at Golden Gate Park….

….. and later found my way to wonderful Filoli Garden in Menlo Park, where the weeping Prunus x subhirtella ‘Pendula’ was in beautiful bloom.

Washington D.C. is renowned for its National Cherry Blossom Festival, and I was lucky enough to have my flight from North Carolina to Toronto via Washington cancelled in the capitol one spring and made a mad dash for the Tidal Basin, where Somei-Yoshino cherries (Prunus x yedoensis) lined the shore……

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I then headed to Dumbarton Oaks, a favourite historic garden in Georgetown designed by Beatrix Farrand. Here I found lovely weeping cherries near the swimming pool…

….. and a pale-pink cloud of sakura on “cherry hill”.

If you visit Vancouver in early spring, you will be enchanted by the cloud-like Japanese cherry blossoms lining the avenues and adorning the parks. This is the boathouse at Stanley Park.

One spring, I found this handsome specimen of Prunus serrulata ‘Taki-Nioi’ overlooking the pond at Nitobe Memorial Garden at the University of British Columbia. It is an appropriate situation for this tree, whose Japanese name means “fragrant waterfall”.

Vancouver’s Van Dusen Botanical Garden featured Prunus x subhirtella ‘Pendula’ looking lovely in a bed of Oriental poppies.

Closer to home, the Royal Botanical Garden in Burlington, Ontario has a good collection of Japanese cherries. This is Prunus x yedoensis ‘Akebono’, bred in 1925 by the W.B. Clarke Nursery of California.

Here is a closer look. Isn’t it lovely?

Prunus ‘Pandora’ is a hybrid of Prunus x yedoensis and Prunus ‘Beni Higan Sakura’….

……that was bred by Waterer Sons and Crisp prior to 1939. Here’s a closer look.

The dwarf, weeping variety Prunus x yedoensis ‘Ivensii’ was introduced by England’s Hillier Nurseries before 1929.

Prunus ‘Accolade’ is a 1952 hybrid of Sargent’s cherry (Prunus sargentii) and Prunus x subhirtella from England’s Knapp Hill Nurseries. While very hardy, an extremely cold winter will often kill the flower buds.

When it does bloom, its pale pink, semi-double flowers are enchanting and….

…. often emerge adventitiously from small shoots on the trunk.

‘Accolade’ also has excellent autumn colour (as does parent Prunus sargentii), as shown here at Toronto’s Mount Pleasant Cemetery.

Mount Pleasant Cemetery also features a number of Japanese cherries, including Prunus serrulata ‘Ama-no-gawa’….

…. and Prunus x subhirtella ‘Pendula Rosea Plena’, the double-flowered weeping cherry.

Toronto’s High Park is renowned for its hillside allée of Somei-Yoshino Japanese cherry trees (Prunus x yedoensis)….

…. which always bear a closer inspection — sometimes even under a dusting of snow!

Beyond Japanese cherry trees, I look for arrangements featuring cherry blossoms, like this lovely Mother’s Day bouquet from Toronto’s Horticultural Design.

Sometimes, I even made my own arrangements, borrowing sake cups and filling them with sakura! This is the hardy and popular ‘Kanzan’, aka ‘Sekiyama’.

One year, I patiently stemmed the flowers to create a carpet of cherry blossoms.

But there was a reason why I wrote this blog on this particular day. It’s my memorial for Notre Dame Cathedral and its fallen spire. No longer will Parisians walking along the Seine glimpse that towering lead pinnacle above les fleurs de cerisier japonais…..

And even if people come back in springtime to sit under the blossoms by the sandbox in the playground on the Ile de la Cité …..

…. they will glance up and feel the enormous void left behind by this tragic inferno. France is already promising to rebuild Notre Dame, seeking funds from people throughout the world. Perhaps one day the cherry blossoms will frame the view of a sparkling new spire. Let us hope.

NOTE: I would like to acknowledge Wybe Kuitert and his vast depth of knowledge on all things Japanese flowering cherry. If you’re a serious student, you will enjoy his 1999 monograph Japanese Flowering Cherries, which is now out of print but available used.

Pollen for Honey Bees in a Rainbow of Colours

Posted on June 26, 2018 by Janet

You hear a lot about flower nectar, when people talk about growing “flowers for bees”, but you don’t hear nearly as much about pollen. And given that pollen, and by extension pollination, is the principal quid pro quo in the evolutionary pact that sees bees trade sex services for food, much more should be written about pollen. It is of vital importance to the bee larvae, for which it is the protein that develops their growth. In one of my classic old books on beekeeping, Plants and Beekeping by F.N. Howles (1945), he writes: “It has been calculated that about ten average bee loads of pollen are necessary to produce one worker bee and that on an average one pound of pollen rears 4,540 bees, which works out at about 44 lb. of pollen for an average colony’s breeding requirements in a season.” Without sufficient pollen, the colony would die off.

Because I spent several years photographing honey bees (Apis mellifera) for a book idea I once had, I got to see a lot of pollen up close and personal, like the golden pollen being patiently collected from Gaillardia ‘Mesa Yellow’, below.

I saw bee faces completely dusted with sticky pollen; I watched them perform aerial dance maneuvers as they packed pollen into their corbiculae, before settling back onto flowers; and I observed them flying back to the hive, legs laden with saddlebags of pollen in all colours of the rainbow, like the white datura pollen below.

It’s pollen colour in all its wonderful variety that I want to celebrate here, from the first blossoms of spring to the last of autumn.

Let’s start with hardy perennials and bulbs. Crocuses have very large pollen grains. I’ve watched honey bees curling their entire bodies into silken crocus chalices, like C. x lutea ‘Golden Yellow’, below.

Siberian squill (Scilla siberica) produces azure-blue pollen.

Little striped squill (Puschkinia scilloides) rewards visitors with beige pollen.

Grape hyacinths (Muscari armeniacum) can often be seen with bees working the flowers as they open from the bottom of the spike up. Pollen is whitish-cream in colour.

Orchards are filled with bees in spring, among them honey bees, thus ensuring that there will be tasty fruit come late summer. This is the hardy ‘Reliance’ peach (Prunus persica) with light-brown pollen.

The Dutch call alpine rockcress (Arabis alpina) “honigschub’ or honey bush and it’s easy to see why. Very early in spring, before most perennials have thought about emerging, arabis is feeding the bees nectar and a sticky light-brown pollen.

Although forget-me-nots are prodigious nectar sources – especially considering the vast quantities of the tiny flowers in spring gardens – their pollen grains are among the smallest measured and from my observations, not very prominent in corbiculae (pollen baskets). But for a bee to insert its tongue into the narrow corolla of a forget-me-not, the net result will be that some pollen will dust off on the proboscis and the head, which the bee will gather for the hive. And because of that narrow opening, pollen is often mixed in with the nectar that forget-me-nots yield, and is measurable in the honey.

Though the shrubby European honeysuckles like Lonicera tatarica, below, can be invasive, they are good early sources of pollen.

The bright-orange pollen of California poppy (Eschscholzia californica) is always a great lure for honey bees.

When the yellowwood tree (Cladrastis kentukea) has a good year for bloom – sometimes just one year in three – the flowers with their tawny-gold pollen are avidly sought out by honey bees and native bumble bees and solitary bees.

Beekeepers always know when Oriental poppies (Papaver orientale) are in flower, because homecoming bees are dusted with black pollen.

Peony stamens are a rich source of pollen, with one count estimating a single peony might have 3.5 million pollen grains. This is Paeonia ‘Sunday Chimes’, below.

The knotweeds (Centaurea sp.) are excellent plants for bee forage, and beautiful in the late spring-early summer garden. Globe centaurea (Centaurea macrocephala) offers pollen in golden-yellow…..

….. while Centaurea dealbata ‘John Coutts’ produces creamy-beige pollen.

Southern magnolia (Magnolia grandiflora) is irresistible to bees when the prominent stamens are yielding their creamy-white pollen, below.

Native American copper iris (I. fulva) is popular with hummingbirds, but on the High Line one day, I watched honey bees patiently working the flowers and securing ample loads of near white pollen.

Knautia macedonica is my very favourite pollen producer, yielding a rich magenta-pink pollen that makes honey bee faces look adorable and their packed corbiculae seem like airborne jewelry.

Roses, especially single and semi-double forms with prominent stamens, are often good sources of pollen, which they yield mostly in the morning, apparently. The David Austin shrub below produced amber-brown pollen.

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Certain clematis species are good sources of pollen. One that flowers in early summer is Clematis koreana – and the bee working it had packed a jewel-like pollen pearl in her pollen basket.

Filipendulas are good forage plants and native qneen-of-the-prairie or meadowsweet (Filipendula rubra) provides pollen in early summer for native bees and honey bees. This is the showy cultivar ‘Venusta’ with creamy-white pollen.

Bumble bees and honey bees are always buzzing around globe thistles (Echinops sp.), which yield a whitish pollen from the masses of tiny flowers.

To see a planting of helenium or sneezeweed (Helenium autumnale) in full sun in late summer is to see a happy bee festival. And the abundant pollen is rich orange. One source mentions the bitter nature of helenium honey, but at the point where helenium is in flower, beekeepers are often letting the bees collect nectar for winter honey stores.

Japanese anemones (Anemone x hybrida) yield neglible nectar but the yellow stamens are rich sources of white pollen.

With its masses of tiny, white flowers, sweet autumn clematis (Clematis terniflora) is very popular with bees. I watched the honey bee below doing an intricate aerial dance to pack in white pollen from a massive vine.

By the end of summer into early autumn, the various goldenrods and asters (Michaelmas daisies) offer nectar that is often vital for bees to survive winter, though most beekeepers must provide additional winter food for their bees. (Goldenrod makes a strong honey that is not generally sold commercially.) But bees also collect pollen from these late perennials, like the very late-blooming showy goldenrod (Solidago speciosa), below, with its golden-yellow pollen. This will help sustain the hive until spring.

Of the asters, I loved this image of a bee hanging from lance-leaved aster (Symphyotrichum lanceolatum), its corbicula packed with yellow pollen…..

….. and the beautiful New England aster (Symphyotrichum novae-angliae) and its many cultivars, like the one below, are well worth growing in every garden – something lovely for you and the bees as the season ends.

Annuals and tender perennials and bulbs can also be good sources of colourful pollen. This is Ageratum houstonianum with lots of pure white pollen.

Sunflowers (Helianthus annuus) and their many cultivars are a treat for all types of bees, especially the native sunflower bees adapted to this North American flower. But honey bees enjoy nectaring on the tiny ‘true’ flowers and gathering the yellowish pollen, too.

Single portulacas (P. grandiflora) have bright orange pollen, as you can from the bee crawling out of the silky blossom below.

I’ve seen lots of tender S. African bulbines (B. frutescens) growing in summer gardens recently, much to the delight of honey bees gathering pale yellow pollen from the feathery stamens.

Weeds like Canada thistle (Cirsium arvense) are never appreciated by gardeners, and many are highly invasive and on noxious plant lists. But you will often see bees of all kinds foraging for nectar and pollen on thistles…..

….. and dusting themselves completely with the white pollen of the pretty blue summer flowers of chicory (Cichorium intybus)…..

…. and flying about with the telltale yellow ‘pollen head’ that is a sure sign that the bee has been in a toadflax flower (Linaria vulgaris).

Finally, I’d like to include a few vegetables that bees like – not for the stems or the roots, but for the flowers that have resulted from the plants “bolting”. This is what happens to a radish (Raphanus sativus) when it’s going to seed – yellow pollen much appreciated by this little honey bee.

Brassicas like broccoli, cabbage, kale and Brussels sprouts also form flowers as part of their biennial life cycle – and the bees love the yellow pollen that forms.

Last but not least, a perennial vegetable we all know and love for its tender spring shoots – but have you watched bees gathering bright orange pollen from the tiny, yellow male flowers? It is a feat of acrobatics worthy of any high-flying trapeze act!

(PS – Are you a bee-lover? To see a large selection of my honey bee stock photography, visit my Smug Mug pages. And you’ll find a load of bumble bees and other native North American bees and bee kin on my page as well.)

June Whites

Posted on June 10, 2017 by Janet

I was reminded today, as I drove through Mount Pleasant Cemetery, then home again, that this particular time in June is resplendently white in blossom. Seriously, there are white flowers everywhere! Let’s start in the cemetery with this rather rare shrub, Oriental photinia (P. villosa). A member of the Rosaceae family, it has lovely yellow leaves in autumn.

The fountain-like Van Houtte spireas (Spiraea x vanhouttei) were almost finished, but I managed to find one little branch that hadn’t yet browned.

Kousa dogwoods (Cornus kousa) were looking paricurly lovely with their creamy-white bracts.

Japanese snowball (Viburnum plicatum) was beautiful, too.

There were peonies in my favourite memorial garden at the cemetery, including this lovely single white.

Deutzias grace the cemetery, and I was interested that although there were matching Lemoine deutzias (D. x lemoinei) on either side of a grand tombstone, just one of the pair was attracting bees, lots of them. Only the bees know why the other shrub wasn’t attractive.

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And the black locusts (Robinia pseudoacacia) were dangling their pendant flowers from the tall branches like tree-borne wisteria. Tonight, those flowers will perfume the air around them with their honey fragrance.

When I pulled into my driveway at home, I was greeted by a little regiment of tall, double-white camassias (C. leichtlinii ‘Semi Plena’). I don’t normally plant double flowers, preferring to nurture the bees with single blossoms, but they were in a mislabelled package a few years back, and I do enjoy that they come into flower after the single blue Leichtlin’s camassia.

And as I looked out my kitchen window to the far corner of the garden, I admired one of my very favourite spring shrubs, the big pagoda or alternate-leafed dogwood (Cornus alternifolia) wtih its layered branches. It was doing a lovely pas de deux with my neighbour Claudette’s pale-pink beauty bush (Kolkwitzia amabilis).

Here’s a closer look at those abundant flower clusters. I do love this native shrub.

And those are my June whites for today. Now all we need is a bride!

***********************************

I’ve blogged before about Mount Pleasant Cemetery. Here’s one with an autumnal flavour, and another about the magnificent trees in winter.

A November Wine Tasting

Posted on November 29, 2016 by Janet

This is my month to explore that dark, rich, full-bodied, dowager great-aunt of ‘red’ – otherwise known as ‘wine’. Or burgundy, if you like. Like its viticulture companion, a little wine in the garden goes a long way. Overdo it and you might not like the heavy feeling that results. But a little sip here and there adds depth and elegance to the garden. So let’s sample a few good vintages, shall we?

In my part of the world, spring wines are quite common, given that the Lenten roses or hellebores are flowering in profusion. This is Helleborus ‘Blue Lady’.

There are a few excellent wine-red tulips for later in spring, like the lovely lily-flowered tulip ‘Burgundy’, below.

And I loved this combination of the bicolour Triumph tulip ‘Gavota’ and dark ‘Queen of Night’ at the Toronto Botanical Garden.

I know I might have included the late-flowered tulip ‘Queen of Night’ in my blog on ‘black’ flowers, but it often shows with more red. This is that sensuous tulip spangled through an uncharacteristically wild bulb planting in the very formal Jardin des Tuileries in Paris. Notice how the repetition of the dark colour carries your eye up through the various beds, unifying them and lending them a somewhat ‘designed’ feeling in keeping with the place.

One of the more elegant little spring bulbs is snakeshead fritillary (Fritillaria meleagris). Apart from the checkered, wine-red species, there is a white form as well.

Of all the small trees for gardens, the biggest choice in red-leafed selections can be found in Japanese maples. This is the highly regarded Acer palmatum var. dissectum ‘Inaba-shidare’ at the Toronto Botanical Garden.

But the ubiquitous ‘Bloodgood’ Japanese maple (Acer palmatum) also puts on a beautiful wine-red show throughout summer, and colours beautifully to bright scarlet in fall. Here it is with the Triumph tulip ‘Boston’ in the Mary Fisher Spring Garden at the Toronto Botanical Garden.

One of the best shrubs for adding deep wine-red colour to an herbaceous border is purple smokebush. There are a few cultivars but the most common is Cotinus coggygria ‘Royal Purple’. The trick is to cut it back to the ground, i.e. ‘coppice’ it, in spring. Here is ‘Royal Purple just emerging with tulips.

Here is coppiced ‘Royal Purple’ a little later in the season with a lovely matching brushmark lily (possibly ‘Latvia’) in Bev Koppel’s wonderful garden at the Deep Cove Chalet Restaurant outside Victoria, B.C.

Here is coppiced Cotinus coggygria ‘Royal Purple’ with tropical Tibouchina urvilleana at the Conservatory Garden in New York’s Central Park.

And in Toronto horticulturist Frank Kershaw’s garden, there is an entire symphony of wine colour around Cotinus coggygria ‘Royal Purple’, including shutters, window awning and dwarf Japanese barberry.

Given all the hybridizing that’s occurred with heucheras over the past few decades, there are numerous selections with luscious leaves of burgundy and reddish-purple. At the Horticulture Centre of the Pacific outside Victoria, B.C., I adored this beautiful spring combination featuring Heuchera ‘Amethyst Mist’, Allium aflatunense ‘Purple Sensation’ and the dark-leafed ninebark Physocarpus ‘Diablo’ at rear.

Heuchera micrantha ‘Rachel’ is quite lovely.

And Heuchera ‘Pinot Noir’ has a name that fits our theme very nicely. It’s shown below frolicking with blue-flowered Gilia capitata.

One stunning peony is dark enough to be called ‘wine’, even if its actual name describes another favourite indulgence. Here is Paeonia ‘Chocolate Soldier’.

Though true-red irises have eluded hybridizers, there are many that come close to our November colour. Below is the heritage bearded iris ‘Col. Candelot’. Other deep-reds to check out are ‘Red at Night’, ‘Galactic Warrior’, ‘War Chief’, ‘Raptor Red’ and ‘Nebraska Big Red’, to name just a few.

And what about this gorgeous thing? Meet Iris spuria ‘Cinnabar Red’.

Though the mourning widow geranium (Geranum phaeum) is a little on the purplish side, I’ve included it here anyway. (And it’s a great bee flower!)

The breeders of the sweet William (Dianthus barbatus) below decided on a memorable name for their dark-flowered beauty. Meet ‘Heart Attack’, hanging out here with airy Allium schubertii at Wave Hill in the Bronx.

Early summer gives us masterworts (Astrantia major), and though many seem to be wishy-washy in their colouration, that’s not the case with ‘Hadspen Blood’, below, from Nori and Sandra Pope’s once glorious garden.

I simply adore Knautia macedonica with its dark-red button flowers that flower from spring well into autumn. It is the zingiest zing you can have in a border (or meadow), and all the bees love it, too.

Daylilies (Hemerocallis) aren’t really my thing anymore, other than the dear old orange tawny lily (H. fulva) that I have given up trying to annihilate in my garden. That being said, there are lots of wine-colored selections to choose from, including the lovelies below.

Clockwise from upper left: Strutter’s Ball, Round Midnight, Regal Finale, Tuscawilla Blackout, Black Ice, Jungle Beauty, Starman’s Quest, Jennifer Napier

Admittedly, Mexican hat (Ratibida columnifera) isn’t very showy, but it’s a fine choice for well-drained soil and a naturalistic garden.

Martagon lilies (Lilium martagon) are the epitome of elegance and will take light shade. Below is the fabulous ‘Sarcee’, named for a First Nation tribe in hybridizer Fred Tarlton’s province of Alberta. I photographed it in his astonishing collection at the Devonian Gardens near Edmonton.

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For tough, low-maintenance perennials with wine-red leaves, you simply can’t beat sedums. Below is my array of some notable selections. The bees will thank you!

We don’t always stop to observe the subtle colour changes that happen as flowers age beyond their prime. I loved this dreamy crimson-wine duo of Joe Pye weed (Eutrochium purpureum ssp. maculatum) and fountain grass (Pennisetum alopecuroides ‘Cassian’).

Japanese barberry (love it or hate it) occupies a special place in the world of wine foliage, and its response to trimming makes it especially appealing in formal gardens. Without a red barberry, how could you possibly achieve the beautiful creation below, in the Knot Garden at Filoli Garden near San Francisco? Along with the Berberis thunbergii ‘Crimson Pygmy’, we have dwarf lavender cotton (Santolina chamaecyparis ‘Nana’), germander (Teucrium chamaedrys) and dwarf myrtle (Myrtus communis ssp. tarentina ‘Compacta’).

Though not particularly showy, the pineapple-scented, deep-red flowers of Carolina allspice (Calycanthus floridus), below, are intriguing – and they fit my category!

What about trees with dark-red leaves? One that is deservedly popular – and much smaller than its parent, almost a tall shrub – is weeping copper beech (Fagus sylvatica ‘Purpurea’), below.

And I cannot go on without mentioning ‘Forest Pansy’ redbud (Cercis canadensis) – especially when it looks like this from underneath the canopy!

Now for some warm-weather wines: tender bulbs, tropicals and annuals.

A few of the pineapple lilies (Eucomis) are an interesting combination of olive and burgundy, like E. comosa ‘Oakhurst’, below. Look at that dark-red stem. (‘Sparkling Burgundy’ is another with similar colouration.)

Although they can look parkimental (park+regimental) grown in rows or Victorian-style bedding, many cannas have beautifully marked leaves and, in the right spot, add a luscious touch. Here is ‘African Sunset’ canna lily (Canna australis).

Speaking of the ‘right spot’, in Bev Koffel’s garden, a reddish canna and the deep-burgundy succulent Aeonium arborescens ‘Zwartkop’ add rich notes to an elegant urn.

Do you grow dahlias? If you like dark and dramatic, look no further than ‘Black Knight’.

Perhaps no species offers more possibilities in the wine spectrum than the foliage plant coleus (Plectranthus scutellarioides, formerly Solenostemon, formerly Coleus blumei). I was enchanted by the way the gardeners at Toronto’s Spadina House worked ‘Wizard Mix’ coleus into their late summer plantings.

Want to see a few more? Here is ‘Kong Red’…

… and ‘Dipt-in-Wine’…..

… and ‘Big Red Judy’.

Though it’s not hardy in my part of the world, Pennisetum setaceum ‘Fireworks’ is a fabulous, variegated, dark-red grass to add movement and colour to the summer garden.

I’m a frequent visitor to the Montreal Botanical Garden, and I loved seeing these burgundy-leaved tropicals against a yellow and gold three-panelled screen there a few years ago. From left rear are red spike (Amaranthus cruentus), rubber tree plant (Ficus elastica ‘Burgundy’), calico plant (Alternanthera dentata ‘Purple Knight’) and ‘Carmencita’ castor bean (Ricinus communis).

Here’s a look at the flowers of ‘Carmencita Bright Red’ castor bean (Ricinus communis). (Caveat emptor. Do be aware that this plant’s seeds contain one of the deadliest toxins known to man, ricin. Just a few salt-sized grains of purified ricin can kill an adult.)

When we visited Nancy Goodwin’s Montrose Garden in Hillsborough, NC, a few years ago, spectacular and unexpected colour combinations were everywhere. I did enjoy this red-leaf hibiscus (Hibiscus acetosella) with orange dahlias.

In my own garden, I experiment each year with the contents of the six containers on the lower landing of my sundeck. One summer, below, I tried ‘Sweet Caroline Red’ sweet potato vine (Ipomoea batatas) with Anagallis ‘Wildcat Orange’. (The truth is it looked better in June than it did in August, since the anagallis petered out and the chartreuse-leaf pelargoniums were underwhelming, but the sweet potato vine thrived.)

Speaking of pelargoniums, ‘Vancouver Centennial’ is a real winner, with its bronze-red foliage.

One of the best spiky ‘centrepiece’ annuals is Cordyline australis ‘Red Star’, seen here in a pot at the Toronto Botanical Garden. Just look how its deep tones are picked up in those colour splotches on the luscious ‘Indian Dunes’ pelargonium.

And hello ‘grains-as-ornamentals’! This was redspike (Amaranthus cruentus) with slender vervain (Verbena rigida) and ‘Lemon Gem’ marigolds (Tagetes tenuifolia) in a fabulous planting one year at Vancouver’s Van Dusen Botanical Garden.

Speaking of edibles, you can’t get find a more beautiful, wine-leafed edible than this beet: Beta vulgaris ‘Bull’s Blood’ with nasturtiums and chartreuse ‘Margarita’ sweet potato vine (Ipomoea batatas).

And my last sip for our November wine tasting is a fine, full-bodied claret – yes, ‘Claret’ sunflower (Helianthus annuus).

Whew! ‘Wine-ding’ down now, that takes me through eleven months in my 2016 paintbox. Stay tuned for December and some lovely silver ‘belles’.

Janet Davis Explores Colour

In the garden & the world

Tag Archives: blossoms

Japanese Cherries – April’s Enchanting Sakura

Pollen for Honey Bees in a Rainbow of Colours

June Whites

A November Wine Tasting

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