Plant catalogues are fun to read and savor. BUT misunderstood plants, and some beautiful beasts, are within their pages. Wallets could be thinner - or gardens could be eaten alive - if gardeners don’t carefully interpret the text - and notice what’s NOT written. Here are a few examples.
Evergreens, catalogues state, ‘can grow three to four feet a year, thrive in Zones 5-8, and withstand extreme weather and temperatures.’ They don’t mention that the faster the trees grow, the weaker they tend to be, and that they need regular water the first year or two.
By the way, Zone 5 isn’t extreme. These word choices are a hint that the information may be - incomplete. Consequently, evergreens may become everbrown (Dead). It's an expensive loss.
Catalogues offer photos of CLEMatis, showing gorgeous flowers with long bloom times, but usually fail to mention that gardeners must wait three years. ‘It may be a little slow at first’… is a favorite phrase, but bedazzled gardeners skim past these words and order eagerly, then rip the astonished plant out the second year because it looks dead in late spring. Alas - it’s been incredibly busy underground setting roots. I memorized this reminder: ‘The first year, Clematis sleeps; the second year it creeps; the third year - it leaps!’
Hydrangeas’ lush summer blooms emerge just when other plants are beginning to flag. But note! The first five letters are H-y-d-r-a. They need consistently damp soil and part-shade to be happy. (Hydrangeas were discovered under a waterfall.) Shallow-rooted, they dehydrate quickly. Catalogues glide by this, saying, for example, that they need ‘moist but well-drained soil’. I’ve learned to take every word literally. Moist - ALL the time.
Perennial grasses are showy in all seasons. Clumpers - grasses that stay where they’re planted - want full sun, reasonable water and well-drained soil.
But beware of ‘galloper-grasses,' which gobble up garden beds at a shocking rate. I’m passionate about my big, gorgeous blue Elymus grass, and won’t give it up, so I've jailed it. This rampant hunk lives in a bottomless Rubbermaid 30-liter trashcan, which I’ve completely buried. Even so, it sneaks out from time to time. Catalogues describe it as ’vigorous’ and ‘enthusiastic.’ Ohhhh, yeah.
The golden blades of Carex stricta ‘Bowles golden’ light up my shady areas, as does Hakonecloa aureola, a well-behaved Japanese forest grass, which lives quietly next to a hydrangea. Catalogues say - ‘prefers part shade.’ (Jeez! They should say, ‘needs mostly shade.’) Unwary buyers assume, reading ‘prefers,’ that it could handle part-sun. Nope.
They describe beautiful, perfumed Lily-of-the-valley (Convalaria) as ‘charming’ and ‘well-loved’ - quite true - but other sentences set off my alarm bells. ‘In the garden they spread diligently;’ (DING!) or, ‘Our large pips are guaranteed to bloom the first spring…’ (DING!) I snort with laughter when I read that they’re excellent for forcing. Eeeee! No one need force them; they’ll burrow into beds, and every other plant will be, ah, incorporated. (See? I can obfuscate, too.)
Once in, she’ll be there f.o.r.e.v.e.r.
Wisteria must be kept away from structures - houses, fences, garages. Provide a thick iron pole, sunk deep, for it to climb. Catalogues say: ‘Wisteria grows with almost overwhelming vigor’…(DING!) and - ‘Plants grow rapidly to 30 feet and completely bury any structure they are allowed to annex.’ (DING!) Note: they don’t say overrun and crush, but ‘annex.’ Hmmm. Slick.
If gardeners have the right spot, and are younger, they’ll love it. However, wisteria can take for-bloody-ever to bloom. ‘Wisteria is slow to flower...’ Try 8-10 years. It probably won’t bloom till you’re plant food yourself.
Finally, there’s one really lovely ground cover that terrifies me. Aegopodium variegatum, better known as Bishop’s Weed, is described as a beautiful ‘carpet.’ Oh, yeah, it’s that. BUT! Forget zones. Aggie grows anywhere, and thickly covers everything with nary a burp. NEVERnevernever unleash it in a garden. The catalogue says… ’spreads 36 inches in 2 years.’ Uh-huh. Saying ‘inches’ somehow makes this information less alarming. But, imagine 3+ feet IN EVERY DIRECTION every year no matter what. They’ve warned you, but subtly. Oh, and by the way, NOTHING kills it. It simply pauses, coughs, and continues. Not even the Pope can stop it. Yet, it’s expensive! Why do gardeners pay big bucks for a plant that grows if you breathe on it? Or don’t?
So. I tiptoe through my catalogues' tulips and other pictured delights – but I’ve learned, from sad experience, to avoid its beautiful beasts.
Evergreens, catalogues state, ‘can grow three to four feet a year, thrive in Zones 5-8, and withstand extreme weather and temperatures.’ They don’t mention that the faster the trees grow, the weaker they tend to be, and that they need regular water the first year or two.
By the way, Zone 5 isn’t extreme. These word choices are a hint that the information may be - incomplete. Consequently, evergreens may become everbrown (Dead). It's an expensive loss.
Catalogues offer photos of CLEMatis, showing gorgeous flowers with long bloom times, but usually fail to mention that gardeners must wait three years. ‘It may be a little slow at first’… is a favorite phrase, but bedazzled gardeners skim past these words and order eagerly, then rip the astonished plant out the second year because it looks dead in late spring. Alas - it’s been incredibly busy underground setting roots. I memorized this reminder: ‘The first year, Clematis sleeps; the second year it creeps; the third year - it leaps!’
Hydrangeas’ lush summer blooms emerge just when other plants are beginning to flag. But note! The first five letters are H-y-d-r-a. They need consistently damp soil and part-shade to be happy. (Hydrangeas were discovered under a waterfall.) Shallow-rooted, they dehydrate quickly. Catalogues glide by this, saying, for example, that they need ‘moist but well-drained soil’. I’ve learned to take every word literally. Moist - ALL the time.
Perennial grasses are showy in all seasons. Clumpers - grasses that stay where they’re planted - want full sun, reasonable water and well-drained soil.
But beware of ‘galloper-grasses,' which gobble up garden beds at a shocking rate. I’m passionate about my big, gorgeous blue Elymus grass, and won’t give it up, so I've jailed it. This rampant hunk lives in a bottomless Rubbermaid 30-liter trashcan, which I’ve completely buried. Even so, it sneaks out from time to time. Catalogues describe it as ’vigorous’ and ‘enthusiastic.’ Ohhhh, yeah.
The golden blades of Carex stricta ‘Bowles golden’ light up my shady areas, as does Hakonecloa aureola, a well-behaved Japanese forest grass, which lives quietly next to a hydrangea. Catalogues say - ‘prefers part shade.’ (Jeez! They should say, ‘needs mostly shade.’) Unwary buyers assume, reading ‘prefers,’ that it could handle part-sun. Nope.
They describe beautiful, perfumed Lily-of-the-valley (Convalaria) as ‘charming’ and ‘well-loved’ - quite true - but other sentences set off my alarm bells. ‘In the garden they spread diligently;’ (DING!) or, ‘Our large pips are guaranteed to bloom the first spring…’ (DING!) I snort with laughter when I read that they’re excellent for forcing. Eeeee! No one need force them; they’ll burrow into beds, and every other plant will be, ah, incorporated. (See? I can obfuscate, too.)
Once in, she’ll be there f.o.r.e.v.e.r.
Wisteria must be kept away from structures - houses, fences, garages. Provide a thick iron pole, sunk deep, for it to climb. Catalogues say: ‘Wisteria grows with almost overwhelming vigor’…(DING!) and - ‘Plants grow rapidly to 30 feet and completely bury any structure they are allowed to annex.’ (DING!) Note: they don’t say overrun and crush, but ‘annex.’ Hmmm. Slick.
If gardeners have the right spot, and are younger, they’ll love it. However, wisteria can take for-bloody-ever to bloom. ‘Wisteria is slow to flower...’ Try 8-10 years. It probably won’t bloom till you’re plant food yourself.
Finally, there’s one really lovely ground cover that terrifies me. Aegopodium variegatum, better known as Bishop’s Weed, is described as a beautiful ‘carpet.’ Oh, yeah, it’s that. BUT! Forget zones. Aggie grows anywhere, and thickly covers everything with nary a burp. NEVERnevernever unleash it in a garden. The catalogue says… ’spreads 36 inches in 2 years.’ Uh-huh. Saying ‘inches’ somehow makes this information less alarming. But, imagine 3+ feet IN EVERY DIRECTION every year no matter what. They’ve warned you, but subtly. Oh, and by the way, NOTHING kills it. It simply pauses, coughs, and continues. Not even the Pope can stop it. Yet, it’s expensive! Why do gardeners pay big bucks for a plant that grows if you breathe on it? Or don’t?
So. I tiptoe through my catalogues' tulips and other pictured delights – but I’ve learned, from sad experience, to avoid its beautiful beasts.