Diamond Frost Euphorbia

Normally I would dismiss an annual that has flowers as small as Diamond Frost, but growing this plant has made me a raving fan. I think you too will become a fan of this plant once you’ve grown it.

Diamond Frost is an easy to grow annual that performs in most any climate, and has was won awards across the country to prove it. It is a low billowing plant that reaches about 20 inches in height and width. The small white flowers are so abundant that the cumulative mass of flowers creates a beautiful show akin to Baby’s Breath. What is most remarkable is that this plant bloomed from the day I planted it until the day I had a heavy frost in my garden. It is a blooming machine. Its soft white flowers seem to compliment any plant in proximity, making it very versatile.

It is great planted in a large solid block or mixed with other annuals, perennials or shrubs. It is superb in mixed containers or hanging baskets. Space the plants about a foot apart and you will get a full display within weeks.

Diamond Frost is heat and drought tolerant, and requires no more care than planting and the occasional watering. There is no need to dead-head or to groom this gem.

Limelight - One in a Million

Hydrangea paniculata ‘Limelight’ US plant patent #12,874

Without a doubt the best looking plant in my garden right now is Limelight Hydrangea (Hydrangea paniculata ‘Limelight’). When I first saw this plant in the Netherlands, my initial reaction was “Cool a hydrangea with soft green flowers, ... but wouldn’t pink be ever better. After getting the plant back to the U.S. and watching the plant grow, and watching people’s reaction to the plant (especially the response from women), I began to realize that this was one very special plant. After growing the plant for six years I’ve come to realize that this plant is was one in a million.

Light has it all! Not only is it drop dead gorgeous, it is also a performer. Gardeners from Orlando to Manitoba have sent me emails telling me how well this plant delivers. A landscaper from Chicago told me that he uses the plant in every design he creates. He told me that nearly all of his landscapes are in new neighborhoods with few trees. Bigleaf Hydrangea (Hydrangea macrophylla) reblooming or not, cannot take the heat and sun. They simply collapse under these conditions. Limelight on the other hand thrives. It takes sun or shade, sand or clay soils. In the North or in the South it has proven itself to be a winner.

Besides its unique flowers and its superb adaptability, there are several other things that make this plant a proven winner. It has very strong stems that hold up its massive flowers even after a heavy rain. The old standard variety - Pee Gee Hydrangea (Hydrangea paniculata ‘Grandiflora’) deserves to be thrown on the compost heap because it is notorious for collapsing under its own weight. Also, if you watch Limelight closely you will notice just keeps sending up fresh new flowers. It blooms continuously from mid-summer until frost. This results in a unique autumn floral display - while the older flowers change from green to white to pink to burgundy, new green flowers are added to the color mix. In the autumn this wide range of flower colors is simply breathtaking.

Want to create something really incredible? A friend of mine has a 50 yard long hedge of Limelight running along side his driveway. People wizzing past his house at 55 mph literally slam on their breaks when they see it.

Limelight was developed by world renowned plantsman Pieter Zwijnenburg. Pieter and his wife Anja own a nursery in Boskoop, Netherlands. He grows over 2500 different varieties of trees and shrubs and has introduced over 50 different new plants in his young career. I had the pleasure of seeing Pieter receive the Pennsylvania Horticulture Society’s Gold Medal Award this spring in Chicago. It was a well deserved award because Pieter is a very special person and Limelight is a very special plant.

A Trip to Korea: Adventures of a Modern Day Plant Hunter

As we got closer to the Yellow Sea the greater my sense of concern. The rain was pelting against the windshield of the bus so hard the wipers seemed useless. A sick feeling was building in my stomach. What have I done? It was I who convinced Dale Deppe, the owner of Spring Meadow Nursery to go to Korea in search of plants. And now, the two of us were on bus heading to the coast straight into a Typhoon! No wonder we were the only passengers on the bus! At first, the Korean scenery had looked hopeful, even here, we saw plant nurseries and poly greenhouses scattered along the highway, but soon my spirits sank. The rain came down harder and although we still saw the occasional greenhouse, the structures now lay three feet deep in brown muddy water. Washed out roads, rice fields that looked like expansive lakes and a report that eight people had been washed away fueled my worries. This was my introduction to plant hunting in Asia. We had unknowingly came during typhoon season.

I'd heard plant hunters Berry Yinger and Dan Hinkley tell of their travels, filled with high adventure, adversity and the general tribulations of wild collecting in Asia, but my plant collecting practices are quite different. More like business trips than romantic adventures, I search out plant enthusiasts, plant breeders and growers in the hope of finding ornamental plants with commercial promise. My plant hunting philosophy is simple. The odds of finding a commercially interesting plant in Asia are much better in a nursery than out in the woods or on the side of a mountain. Local nurserymen and plant enthusiasts know the local flora better than I could ever dream to know in an 8 day visit. I had come to Korea to find new plants for the American nursery market, but as we traveled into our first typhoon, it was difficult to remember why we came, and if it had been such a good idea after all?

Our journey actually began a year earlier, back in my office in Michigan. I had been reading Dendroflora, a plant journal published by the Royal Boskoop Horticulture Society. I was pouring over the latest issue looking for clues that might lead me to a new plant or plant breeder. Although my Dutch is worse than poor, I was able understand an article on Hibiscus syriacus, more commonly know as Rose of Sharon. It’s a showy flowering shrub that has big colorful blooms in late summer, ant it’s hardy enough to grow out of doors in Northern climates. A small footnote in the article cited a collection Hibiscus syriacus at Mirim Botanical Garden in South Korea that cultivated over 150 different varieties. Unbelievable! Our nursery has perhaps the largest collection of Hibiscus syriacus in North America and we only have thirty six cultivars. This was the lead I had been looking for. A source for something new and exciting for the hungry American plant market. Few plants offer the blast of summer color that Hibiscus syriacus does, and not much has happened in this genus since the National Arboretum released it triploid, Greek Goddess series back in the mid eighties. Although these are beautiful plants, they are weak growing hybrids that lack sufficient hardiness. We were looking for something better.

Although my first love is horticulture, my position as Product Development Manager forces me to act as much like a detective as well as a plantsman. Years back, I read of an American expatriate, Carl Ferris Miller, who had stayed on in South Korea after World War II. He had fallen in love with Korea, given himself a new Korean name and had changed his citizenship, being only one of only two Americans ever to do so. Working as a stock broker in Seoul during the week and as an amateur botanist in the weekends, Miller, almost unknowingly, built a private arboretum about three hours south of Seoul in a small fishing village called Chollipo. Mr. Miller was our door into Korean Horticulture. Certainly he would lead us to meet the right plant people in Korea but I did not know his new name and had no idea how to locate him. My next big break came when I stumbled upon a web page published by an amateur Hibiscus enthusiast (http://members.tripod.cpm/~h_syriacus). I had found the most comprehensive listing of Hibiscus cultivar descriptions ever compiled. What a wonderful invention the internet is, providing the common man or woman the opportunity to freely publish to a worldwide audience on topics as obscure as Hibiscus syriacus! I downloaded addresses and telephone numbers for several Korean contacts, including Mr. Miller's Chollipo address. At last, I had the beginnings of a rough itinerary.

Driving closer to the coast, my doubts and misgivings increased. I had written to all of my intended contacts months before our departure, but only a few had written back. I had come to learn that Koreans don't use traditional street numbers for addresses. Supposedly street numbers are a Japanese invention, and anything Japanese is not to be accepted in Korea. The mail delivery relies primarily upon the quality of the mail carrier. When mail arrives in a village or neighborhood it’s up to the mailman and his memory to do the rest. Fortunately, I had received confirmation from Chollipo. Miller had instructed his staff there to assist us, for he would be in Outer Mongolia when we arrived. The assistance of the Chollipo staff was key if we were to effectively fill our two week itinerary and have any success finding plants. As our express bus stopped in village after village, I wondered if each one was our stop and how we would know with any certainty. Would the typhoon ruin all of our plans? What would become of the other typhoon that was building in the Pacific Ocean. I had been warned that August in Korea would be hot and humid, akin to summer in Houston, but no one had warned me about the typhoons. August is not the time to vacation in Korean between the typhoons, the heat and humidity, but we did not come to vacation. My contacts had specified that peak Hibiscus bloom would be the second week in August, so here we were, driving into a typhoon.

When we reached the end of the line, the bus driver signaled toward the exit and smiled. Pleased with his driving skills and recognizing the tension of the long drive he offered us cigarettes as we departed the Hyundai bus into the storm. I took the cigarette out of politeness, but it was soon too wet to light. The torrential rains had soaked it and us as we ran the six long feet to a small roadside tent that served as a bus depot. We had arrived in Mollipo, South Korea a summer tourist town without any tourists, only two wet Americans and a roadside tent / bus depot / convenience store. My instructions were to call the arboretum once we arrived, but the tent had no telephone. The shopkeeper pointed across the road to a phone booth, after I mimed a telephone call holding my empty hand up to my face.

Few people hunt plants in Korea. China and Japan are much more exotic, romantic and productive. Hunting in Europe has the distinct advantage in that we share a common alphabet, which greatly enhances travel, overall communication and your sense of security. We chose Korea for those same reasons most people don’t. Few others have been to Korea to look for plants so we faced less competition. Another unique feature favoring Korea is that Hibiscus syriacus is their national flower. Even though it’s native to Syria, the Koreans have adopted the flower as their own. In some manner, it has the symbolic significance of a unified Korea, North and South. We saw the significance of Hibiscus syriacus on several occasions during our trip. At a government research station we saw a field planted with of hundreds of Hibiscus laid out in the shape the Korean peninsula, with each state having a different flower color. We were guests at the “National Hibiscus Festival” in Children’s Park in Seoul where politicians and dignitaries lined up at the podium to give speeches. To a couple of western nurserymen this all looked very important as we sweated under the intense Korean sun with our silk Hibiscus flowers pinned to our lapels.

Within seconds of dashing from the bus depot / tent to the phone booth across the street, my umbrella was contorted and useless. It didn’t take to long to

 realize that using a pay phone was futile. Back in the tent, armed only with my drenched puppy dog look and more telephone-like gestures I had convinced a local man to make our call on his cell phone. He motioned for us to get in out of the rain and into his car. But instead of a phone call, the man, much to our surprise, revved up his car and zipped up a narrow washed out dirt road. Helpless and wet best describes our condition. Our continued attempts to have him use his Sansung cell phone were as futile our pay phone attempt. Trusting in the goodness of people was our only option at this point so we sat back and enjoyed the bumpy ride to who knows where.
Plant hunting trips are a crap shoot. You never know what you will find. You are certain to find something new or rare but to find a really good ornamental shrub is another story. Many of our customers’ clients are at war the big mass merchandisers. When fighting Goliath, you’re not going to win fighting it out on price, because you just don’t have the purchasing power of a big chain. Independent garden centers have successfully resorted to offering better service and better products. New and improved plant varieties are an essential weapon in their battle. That’s one of the reasons we look for new plants. But a plant has to be more than just new. People want color and easy care, and to get them to buy a plant, it needs lots of appeal. We’re not just hunting for plants, we’re hunting for commercially viable plants and that’s a lot more challenging. Often we come home with nothing, but that’s not to say the trip was a waste. It’s a slow process that takes commitment and patience. If we meet the right people and establish the right kind of relationship, they’ll remember us when or if they ever develop or discover a new plant.

Our immediate goal was the Chollipo Arboretum, so when our unnamed driver pulled into an apartment complex we felt somewhat confused. With the typhoon raging on and a storm of conversation between our driver and some of the apartment dwellers, we were taken aback when one of the tenants, speaking in perfect English greeted us and welcomed us to Chollipo Arboretum. No, we did not discover any new and exciting plants at Chollipo, but all was not lost. The typhoon soon headed north, the sun came out and we had two great days in the arboretum. We made good friends, ate freshly caught, barbequed eels and washed them down with xozu (a strong potato wine). The eel wasn’t too bad and the Korean people were great. That night the storm knocked out the electricity, and we had a candlelight dinner of fish stew in a nearby fishing village. When the lights came back on we played ping pong with some of the Arboretum’s college interns. Although they spoke no English, and I spoke even less Korean, the oohs and aahs uttered after a vigorous volley or a surprisingly good shot by the American said it well enough. The Chollipo staff helped us set promising appointments, told us which buses and trains take, and called our appointments in advance. The sun was shining again.

Eight days in Korea can be a long time when you’re away from home, your wife, kids and a western style bed. It seems even longer when you’re not used to the 98 degree temperatures and 99 percent humidity. When traveling the country side, we had a chance to experience the real Korea. Sure, one of our hotels had ocean water in the tap, but what difference does this make when there’s no shower or bath anyway. The beds were no more than a quilt and a linoleum floor, but in some ways it was as enjoyable as Seoul Hilton where we stayed during the later days of our trip. While most westerners will never experience the sights and smells of a Korean fishing village, I feel fortunate to have seen this part of Korea.

After the South Korean Secretary of Agriculture finished his “Hibiscus Festival” speech, Dr. Shim, a local horticulture professor who studied at the University of Illinois, quickly pulled me aside and told me that a television crew was going to ask me some questions. He dragged us over to a series of scientific display posters and motioned for us to stay put. I like to think of Dr. Shim as the Mike Dirr of Korea. Both of them love plants and both share their knowledge enthusiastically. Dr. Shim was basking in the media, telling his fellow citizens how he had hybridized a series of new Hibiscus. This was the one day of the year, he later told us, that the media was interested in Hibiscus. He was not wasting his opportunity. Suddenly, all the cameras were pointed at me! Dr. Shim whispered into my ear, “Tell the Korean people how much you love the new Hibiscus. Tell them your plans to introduce them in America.”
“Dr. Shim has created the most beautiful new Hibiscus,” I said proudly basking in my fifteen seconds of fame. “The American people will love them,” I proclaimed as the sweat rolled down by brow. Before the day was done, we were interviewed by yet another Korean TV station, but this time back at Dr. Shim’s research plots. “We love Dr. Shim’s new Hibiscus,” I shouted over the roar of F16 fighter jets playing war games overhead, “ … and the American people will too!”



We’re excited about these plants and believe they made the whole trip a great success, but only time will tell if the American people will love Dr. Shim’s new Hibiscus too. Plant hunting is like a crap shoot. Not all the plants you find will be winners. Our plants are locked in quarantine for two years. We’ll have to see how they perform and see if they have what it takes to be popular with the public. We also brought back other plants that have commercial promise, but these too will have to be tested and evaluated in our climate. Regardless, whether a single plant ever makes the grade and gets into a garden center, our trip to Korean was a success. We formed some great new friendships in Korea and these friendships hold a wealth of promise. We had met with a university professor who studied at the University of Illinois, an Arboretum director with a PhD from Michigan State, a government researcher who attended NC state and a friend at the Chollipo Arboretum with whom I had studied with at Longwood Gardens some 20 years ago.

Dr. Kyung-Ku Shim and myself 

I recently saw the evening news where they showed leaders of North and South Korea hugging in public. This event was even more surprising than finding myself on Korean TV. A new breed of Rose of Sharon, the symbol of one Korea, appears to have taken root. But as it is with new plants, its hard to tell this too successful in the long run. Dr. Shim is hopeful. He and others are breeding hardier strains of this beautiful plant. New plants that can endure the frigid winters of the North when it is reunited with the South. We too are hopeful for Hibiscus. It’s a beautiful plant that shines in the heat of the summer. Few plants deliver such color and have impulse appeal. Who can resist the beauty of this plant in full bloom? Sure, some plant snobs will turn up their nose at Rose of Sharon as too common, but fortunately most Americans aren’t plant snobs. So I’ll say it again, “…We love your Hibiscus Dr. Shim … the American people will too!”

Copyrights reserved 2000 Tim Wood

CITYLINE® Venice - Dwarf Hydrangea

CITYLINE® VENICE Hydrangea macrophylla ‘Venice Raven’ pp#10,928 )

Hydrangea Venice is a member of the Cityline® group of dwarf Hydrangeas developed in Germany by Franz-Xaver and Konrad Rampp of the Rampp Hydrangea nursery in Bavaria. While it is common in the U.S. floral market to use chemical dwarfing agents call Plant Growth Regulators (PGRs) on Hydrangea, their use in Europe is quite restricted. These restrictions were the motivation for the Rampp brothers to hybridize genetically dwarf cultivars of hydrangea. Venice is not just a dwarf hydrangea but a dwarf with large flowers. In late spring - early summer the blooms emerge a soft green with pink edges and as the blooms age the transform entirely to a rich pink. If you prefer blue flowers, this variety is easily changed to blue if you grow the plant on acid soils or if you add Aluminum sulfate to the soil in early spring (1T per gallon of water, repeated twice). The effect is quite unique because the large blooms cover the small plant creating a mass of color. This is a zone 5-6 plant that matures to about 2-3 feet tall. The blooms and stems are both thick and hold up to the heat of day and resist wilting while other hydrangea would be flopped over or wilting. While it is not a plant for most Midwestern gardens it is a superior selection that will perform well along both the East and West Coast and in the South.

Blue Shadow Fothergilla (Bottlebrush)

Gary Handy of Handy Nursery in Boring, OR recently discovered and introduced a new breathtaking blue-leafed form of Fothergilla. The new plant is a branch sport of Mike Dirr's strong growing selection Fothergilla major ‘Mount Airy.’ Like all Fothergilla it is adorned with honey-scented, bottlebrush flowers in early spring before as it leafs out. But what sets this outstanding plant apart from the rest is its colorful dusty blue leaves. In the autumn the blue foliage transforms to shades of rich red, orange and yellow.

Some of you may remember a plant call Fothergilla gardenii 'Blue' mist and if any of you have experience growing it you know that it was a gardeners challenge to keep it alive let alone get it to grow larger. The only thing Blue Shadow has in common with this mail order marvel is its blue leaves. Blue shadow is a strong growing plant that anyone can grow so long as you give the plant some decent soil and even moisture. The species F. major is a larger plant with larger leaves. It matures to about 3-4' as opposed to F. gardenii which tops out around 2-3'. Partial shade is perhaps the best growing location for all fothergilla, although it will tolerate full sun if give adequate moisture. It is hardy from zones 4-9 (Understanding plant zones http://www.colorchoiceplants.com/zones.htm )

What I like best about this plant is that it represents the transformation of a species with two seasons of interest into a plant with season long interest. In the spring you are rewarded with beautiful white, bottlebush-like flowers, and then the blue leaves emerge and darken as summer progresses and in fall the orange and red hues of the autumn foliage give the plant yet another dimension.

While still hard to find at retail garden centers, you can obtain Blue Shadow from Rare Find nursery http://www.rarefindnursery.com/ and Wayside Gardens http://www.waysidegardens.com/ both offer this new beauty.

Golden Shadows® Pagoda Dogwood

Pagoda Dogwood, Cornus alternafolia, is a native understory plant that can be grown as a shrub or a small tree. Golden Shadows® (C. alternifolia 'Wstackman' pp#11,287) is an exciting new variety discovered by Walt Stackman, a daylily breeder from Illinois. It has brightly variegated leaves that are reminiscent of a variegated Hosta. To add icing on the cake, the new growth is tinged with hues of red and pink. Just like the species, this dogwood has white lacy blooms in mid to late spring. My plant was in full bloom on May 31 here in Michigan.

Previously to the release of Golden Shadows, the only other selection of variegated Pagoda Dogwood was a variety named 'Argentea'. While highly prized by collectors for its silver variegated leaves, 'Argenea' had the reputation as a plant that grew smaller each year instead of larger.

Golden Shadows is a robust plant and can be easily grown if planted in the proper location. Remember this is an understory species, so it adapted to growing in shady locations under larger trees. To get the most out of Golden Shadows plant it in a shady location, or better yet, in a location with filtered sun. With proper site selection you will be rewarded with strong growth and bright foliage.

This beauty has only been on the market for about two years, so I doubt that your local garden center sell it, however, it can be purchased via the internet or mail order from both Wayside Gardens and Songsparrow Farms. Google these nurseries to locate their websites.

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Black Lace Elder - Sambucus nigra 'Eva'

Black Lace™ (Sambucus nigra ‘Eva’ pp# 15,575)

The appeal of Black Lace is its unique black leaf color that sets it apart from all other plants. Plants with black leaves are few and far between, especially for the perennial garden. In the array of shrubs it is nearly non-existent. Not only does it portray this characteristic, but many others. Its fine texture and lacy look is comparable to that of a Japanese Maple. For the novice gardener, it would be easy to get them confused. One way that it can be distinguished is the fact that Black Lace has beautiful pink blooms in early Spring & Summer. Then in the Fall it produces dark black berries that can be used for making wine and jam or for attracting wildlife. It is also multifunctional as a stand alone accent plant, mixed in a perennial and annual border, container gardening or as a hedge. It is exceptionally hardy and will do well from Central Minnesota to North Carolina and west to California (Zones 4 to 7).

For More New plants visit the ColorChoice Website