The name of the Japanese Garden at Denver Botanic Gardens, 松風園 Sho-Fu-En, means ‘The garden of pine and wind’ and was inspired by the Rocky Mountain wilderness. </p> During our growing season, we often think of evergreens as a background to colorful flowers and leaves. Winter precedes the vivid colors of spring and summer which then fade away in the fall. Now the evergreens become the focus in the Japanese Garden as most plants go dormant until next spring.</p> December is a wonderful time of the year in the Japanese Garden. We welcome various shades of green against the greys and browns of the early winter landscape. The ancient ponderosa character pines display their movement and structure showcasing the rugged Rocky Mountain scenery. The pines cast their shadow on the lake and the water reflects gentle winter sunlight, changing its appearance throughout the day.</p> In the early morning after a cold and snowy December night, you will find the quiet beauty of 松風園 on the snowcapped flexible ponderosa pine branches. Snow flocks the juniper’s needled branches and the Russian hawthorn’s red berries. Atop the fresh snow we often find a variety of animal footprints, evidence of the mysterious activities of nocturnal creatures in the garden. These slowly melt away under Colorado’s bright winter sunlight.</p>
We all have favorite seasons. Mine has always been autumn, probably because it’s the time of year I wish would last twice as long. Everything seems mature in the plant world and determined to go out in a blaze of glory.</p> </p> Autumn at Denver Botanic Gardens has definitely reached a new level in recent years. We turn our eyes to Chatfield Farms, with a mind-bending Corn Maze and the down-home Pumpkin Festival. Now, York Street has Glow, along with Día de los Muertos and a variety of harvest classes and ghost tours. In other words, it’s very busy and all good fun.</p> Autumn also wraps a few things up. This year has been simply remarkable. Yes, the Walker exhibit was stunning. Yes, Chatfield Stables Pavilion is a wonderful new asset. And of course, the expansion of the Sensory Garden and the opening of the new Steppe and All-America Selections gardens are fantastic milestones.</p> Certainly, the refurbishment of the Boettcher Memorial Tropical Conservatory, in its 50th year, seems almost like a spiritual fulfillment.</p> All terrific. But the true test is right there in our mission – to connect people with plants, especially plants from the Rocky Mountain region and similar regions around the world, providing delight and enlightenment to everyone. Are we using a vast array of assets to make those connections in powerful, relevant ways?</p> You bet we are.</p> The Gardens’ Urban Food Initiatives is an obvious example. How about Dr. Sarada Krishnan’s wide-ranging work on behalf of the Crop Trust to support sustainable and genetically-diverse coffee production? Whole countries have economies based on coffee and they are simply too vulnerable. Did you know about the teamwork between Chatfield Farms and the Research and Conservation Department that is restoring the natural flow of Deer Creek through our southern property?</p> Then there’s therapeutic horticulture, children’s education (including classes at the Plains Conservation Center), yoga, cooking classes, tours, library programs, lecture series, new publications and botanical illustration – you get the idea.</p> The harvest season, in any culture, is when you take stock of good fortune and hard toil. Thank you to all the volunteers and staff, the donors and supporters, who made this year such a profound success.</p> The cycle of a year is a natural thrill ride, especially when your focus is on the natural world. Before everything gets tucked in for a long winter’s night, it’s a privilege to celebrate the culmination of summer’s dreams in autumn’s light.</p>
Welcome to the Steppe Garden. This unique garden showcases plants from steppe regions of the world. The featured steppe regions and associated continents are:</p> South Africa</strong>, which is divided into summer rainfall habitat, winter rainfall habitat and cultivated material.</li> Central Asia</strong>, which exhibits plants from all across Eurasia.</li> South America</strong>, which showcases plants from Argentina and more specifically Patagonia.</li> North America</strong>, which is largely showcased by the cottonwood habitat and the associated grasslands. There is also a section that showcases plants from the Intermountain West.</li> </ul> All of these areas have specific interpretation to assist you in discovering more about the steppe phenomenon.</p> Tour</h3> As you enter the garden from the main east/west path you are instantly greeted by a large rock mass. This, along with the other rock features, do several things for the garden. All steppes are influenced by geology, specifically the proximity to a greater mountain range that creates a rainshadow that influences when and how precipitation and water comes into the steppe. These rock massifs also help give a visual break and help to guide the visitor through the garden. The way that mountains erode influence the very soil structure and composition that are incredibly important aspects of the flora that grows there.</p> Entering the Steppe Garden you will notice three large stone structures. These curious objects are planters that all have specific uses and showcase important microcosms within the greater steppe biome.</p> One of the planters showcases plants that are called “living stones.”</li> The central planter has a small trickling fountain to illustrate the importance and scarcity of water in the steppe.</li> The last planter highlights cushion plants, an adapted growth form.</li> </ul> These planters were painstakingly constructed by the Gardens’ stonemasons and are not only works of art but are becoming living interpretations of specialty conditions and a unique way to grow plants from very specific ecological niches.</p> South Africa is one of the larger areas in the garden and rightly so as the flora of South Africa is one of the largest in terms of diversity and endemism (only found in one geographic region) of all of the regions. Plants from South Africa are incredibly important to our garden spaces and have been grown and hybridized for many years. Some classic examples of plants that are seen and used every day are Pelargonium</em> (geraniums in the vernacular), Gladiolus</em> and Delosperma</em> (ice plants). A major goal of the South African portion of the garden is to highlight plants that have been influenced by human selection or breeding and compare or contrast them next to plants that have been collected in the wild or are species that have not been manipulated by human influence.</p> Central Asia is the largest of the steppe regions and has been crucial to human movement and influence for many thousands of years. The great Silk Road runs right through the heart of Central Asia and was responsible for the movement of goods as well as plants. Many of the classic garden perennials owe their lineage to this vast part of the world. Some classic examples of plants from here are peonies, tulips and delphiniums. The collections in this part of the garden focus on plants from the western portion of the Eurasian supercontinent.</p> South America is a wondrous and fascinating part of the world. The plants that we grow from there are quite unique but have a sense of familiarity about them. Grasses dominate the massive expanse known as the Estepa Patagónica</em>. These grasses are the structural web that dominates the visual plane and gives home and protection to important flowering plants. The flora of Patagonia is the region that currently has the least amount of representation. Don’t worry: Gardens staff is working hard at acquiring plants through our network of colleagues and partners that we have been developing for many years. Keep your eyes on this area as there will be many new-to-cultivation plants grown specifically for this space.</p> North America is the part of the garden that we may be most familiar with. It is our home and our backyard stomping grounds. Much of the work of our research department takes place throughout the North American steppe. To understand what steppe is, one must study and learn about our own sense of place and all of the factors that bring us to call the Front Range of Colorado home. The plants of the great North American steppe are crucial to our way of life. Much of our native steppe has been replaced by monocultural farm lands or ranches grazed for animal production. Our steppe is imperiled. Learning about the native plants that grow there as well as having refuge for them to be protected is vital to working towards a healthy ecosystem.</p> No trip to the Steppe Garden can be complete without a stop in the Science Pyramid. This is a place to explore all of the elements that can help you find a deeper knowledge of steppe. The Steppe Garden and Science Pyramid are a central part of the gardens, both physically and institutionally. We are residents of the steppe and as we explore the similarities and differences of the great steppe regions, we gain both a sense of place as well as the ability to redefine what it means to garden here.</p>
This past year I was the recipient of a Chanticleer Garden Scholarship awarded to professionals in Public Gardening, in my case to do a floristic and cultural comparison of two mountains in Greece and Turkey which have both been called Mount Olympus in past centuries. As often occurs, I encountered some wonderful things en route that are well worth sharing…in my case, a stopover in Reykjavik, Iceland on my way to Europe.</p> As a young man, I envied my friends who flew the old Icelandic Air and had stopovers on that island. The new Iceland Air has renewed this option, and I hopped on the chance to spend a day in the capital city. The airplane arrived about 6 a.m. Being June 27, it was bright as mid-day at that time! I had almost 18 hours (all in full daytime) to explore, and naturally, I went straight to the Botanical Garden which is a short bus ride from the downtown area.</p> Needless to say, I felt right at home when one of the first plants to greet me was a superb specimen of Colorado Columbine in glorious peak bloom! The rock garden at this garden is situated right at the front gate, and it is perhaps their best garden feature—wonderful use of stones, and a mind-boggling collection of choice alpine plants, many of which I’d never seen before.</p> I have never seen the rare European yellow columbine (Aquilegia aurea</em>) anywhere else in cultivation in any public or private garden, except for a brief appearance here in Denver several decades ago. Seeing this made me determined to find seed and grow it in Denver once again (see the gallery featuring images of all of these plants).</p> I was also deeply impressed by a wonderful spread of the golden saxifrage (Chrysoplenium tetrandrum</em>) an unusual circumboreal alpine. I have seen this in a few gardens before, and I’ve found it growing wild in Kazakhstan. What galled me, however, finding this here was that this is one of the few native Colorado wildflowers that I’ve never seen growing in nature in Colorado, although it has been found several times just an hour or so drive from Denver proper (on Mount Evans for instance). And here I’m finding it first in a garden in Iceland. You can see why I was a tad jealous!</p> Few people would mistake this for a Saxifrage—this strange group of “rock breakers” are found mostly in the Himalayas where come in other colors and strange forms. I find this to be fascinating, and am determined to find it in one of its dozen or so Colorado locations in the summer of 2016.</p> Another old friend I never expected to find in Iceland was the miniature yellow ice plant—not the familiar D. nubigenum</em>, but a more congested, high alpine species that is going about under various names. I now think the best name for it may be D. congestum</em>, since it seems to most closely fit the description of that species.</p> This bloomed for us in Denver in April, ending in early May—so it speaks volumes about the climate in Reykjavik that it was still blooming there at the tail end of June.</p> One plant you will NOT find blooming at Denver Botanic Gardens is the blue poppy. They had many fine specimens of this famous and spectacular alpine at Reykjavik Botanic Garden. We have coaxed a bloom or two on these in Denver, but they resent our summer heat. Iceland suits them to a “T” and they were nearly 4’ tall, with glorious blue color. I believe this is Meconopsis grandis</em>, or more likely a hybrid of it—this is one of the few specimens without conspicuous labels at this wonderful garden.</p> I should have expected to see a lot of willows—the genus Salix</em> is especially diverse in cool, moist climates. I did not expect to see dozens of species, nor to see Salix lanata</em> used as a hedge in the downtown shopping areas or along city streets! The catkins were in perfect bloom during my visit!</p> This last shot captures something of the remarkable magic of the climate in Iceland: the weather is cool enough that tulips are still in full bloom at the end of June, but warm enough that South African bulbs like Crocosmia</em> ‘Lucifer’ are thriving and blooming alongside the tulips.</p> There are many scenic and cultural wonders in Iceland as well…but I heartily recommend a visit to their gem of a public garden if you happen to take Iceland Air up on their stopover offer!</p>
Iris 'Lady Beatrix Stanley'</p> As I was driving home yesterday I passed a house which boasted a narrow bed along its north side with hundreds--maybe thousands of snowdrops. I began looking intently (through Capitol Hill mind you--one of Denver's most plant-dense neighborhoods). Surely there must be more bulbs out? A block or two later I saw a fabulous stand of crocuses in the corner of one lot, then nothing in the way of bulbs the next mile or so home.</p> Friends: Denver is BULB country: Denver Botanic Gardens is positively LOUSY with bulbs right now...let's take the reticulate iris as a case in point. They're called netted iris, by the way, because their bulbs are swathed in a netted tunic--although some think it's because their flowers are often netted with fine lines of color. The picture above shows a wonderful stand of Iris</em> 'Lady Beatrix Stanley' positively GLOWING in the Plant Select Garden. Don't miss it! This is a hybrid of the next species, and it has become widely (and cheaply) available in recent years. There's no excuse for us not to have it in our gardens except sheer laziness! (I better get on the stick and order some this spring</a> so I can be even more self-righteous NEXT</em> year!) Since it is missing from my own garden...(oh yes, the title: I am NETtled that more NETted iris are not ordered over the interNET!!)</p> Iris histrioides 'Major'</p> This is a tale of woe! Once widely available in the Dutch bulb trade, the family that grew this commercially ceased to do so decades ago. You'd be hard put to find this nowadays. This plant has persisted in this one spot in the Rock Alpine Garden since 1984. That's 30 years worth of flowers! Perhaps our meritorious staff in that garden may want to think about dividing and spreading this about in this vicinity this summer? (hint hint)...</p> Iris 'Katharine Hodgkin'</p> I remember when this was a fabulously expensive bulb a few decades ago (1970's to be more precise). I have rhapsodized about this amazing plant</a> at length elsewhere. Suffice it to say the several dozen bulbs I planted in my rock garden a few years ago all perished the winter before this one when we had our disastrous April freeze. The ones at the Botanic Gardens came through unscathed. Not that I'm bitter or anything. See these now in glory in the O'Fallon Perennial border.</p> Iris 'Harmony'</p> Harmony indeed! Just LOOK at that clump--this one is in the upper meadow of the Rock Alpine Garden. I have not often seen these iris clump up so thickly! When they do, however, they become susceptible to Ink blight--a dread fungus that loves to do in reticulatas. It will be interesting to see if these come back NEXT year...the bulbs are so inexpensive, it's almost not worth the effort to divide these. I have done so right after they bloom when their in full leaf and find it works well.</p> Iris 'George'</p> I should have put a ruler next to this monster--it's almost a foot in height! Tucked at the back of the Rock Alpine Garden, George loves this spot and is the largest of its kind I've ever seen. It is (like 'Lady Beatrix Stanley' and 'Katharine Hodkin') likely a hybrid of the true Iris histrioides</em>: which is not available in commerce at all (and may never have been). Except for 'Major', that is: the Dutch select all of these plants for their vegetative vigor: they're all reproduced form bulb divisions.</p> The bulbs that do this best are generally sterile hybrids--as a consequence none of these reticulate irises seem to set seed in Colorado. There are a few wild forms in cultivation (I have a few in my house), and these might actually reproduce from seed in our conditions. Which I would love to see happen. As long as we grow these mules, we shall have to divide them on a three or four year sequence to keep them from overcrowding and dying.</p> Iris 'J.S. Dijt'</p> I finish with another classic: the deep purple form of Iris reticulata</em>, growing in the Lilac Garden. These were planted ten or more years ago, and are still thriving.</p> Reticulate iris have been put in their own genus by the great Russian botanist, Rodionenko: Iriodictyon</em>. I have a hunch he's correct. They are as easily grown as crocuses, and far less often seen. I think we're missing out by not planting these on a massive scale throughout our region where they do so well.</p> Once you have several hundred (or let's say a THOUSAND) of your generic, Dutch hybrid reticulatas scampering all over your garden...then and ONLY then you can click on the U.R.L.</a> and see that a vast universe of hybrids is being generated by a mad Canadian I met decades ago when he (and I) were mere babes in the woods horticulturally. I'm speaking of Alan McMurtrie. Some day I'll blog about him more fully.</p> Until then, come wander through the Gardens and marvel at our bulbs, and jot down the ones you would love to see in your garden next spring. Denver Botanic Gardens has online bulb pre-ordering happening now!</strong></a> Here is a catalog of the bulbs that are for sale and how you can order.</a> Get a jump on your spring gardening. Place your bulb order between now and June 22, 2015 to reserve them for easy, hassle-free pick up in September!</p>
Salvia indica</em></p> The first salvia to bloom at Denver Botanic Gardens every spring is actually from Western Asia and Turkey rather than India as the name would imply. It shows one extreme of the range of form the genus can display. Now look below at a Western American gem:</p> Salvia pachyphylla</em></p> Over the last few decades, a veritable flood of sages have become available commercially at local garden centers. Some, like this Mojave Sage (Salvia pachyphylla</em>) thanks to Plant Select</a>. Most are very xeric, and many bloom for months on end, starting in May. Since the genus Salvia may contain over a thousand species, and probably even more hybrids, no wonder some gardeners are frustrated at what to grow in their gardens.</p> Why not sign up for my upcoming class, Genus Salvia for Colorado Gardens.</a> I originally prepared the precursor to this talk for a Symposium at Huntington Botanical Garden in 2014 and reworked for our local conditions. It represents my summation of growing over 100 kinds of salvia over the last few decades. There is a salvia for almost any condition in your garden, sunny or shady, wet or unwatered. Many salvias available through local garden centers are barely represented in books, and little known outside our region.</p> Salvia pisidica</em></p> This wonderful groundcover is a good example of an outstanding Xeriscape salvia from southeastern Turkey that was introduced to horticulture 30 years ago by Jim Archibald, but Denver is one of the few places where it's made itself at home! This has been offered at our plant sale for years, but few realize what a wonderful evergreen, xeric groundcover it is. This picture was taken in Mike Kintgen's private garden but fabulous spreads of this plants can also be found at the Denver Botanic Gardens in the Rock Alpine Garden</a> and the Gardens at Kendrick Lake. There are many spectacular salvias from the Mediterranean and Asia that were introduced here at Denver Botanic Gardens, and these will be a focus of the talk.</p> Salvia penstemonoides</em></p> Here is another spectacular salvia growing at Mike Bone's private garden which he has propagated at sold at our spring sales several years now. Thought to be extinct, the "Penstemon salvia" was rediscovered twenty years ago, and has been propagated and shared widely by plantsmen--and it has become a long-blooming spectacular plant for a xeriscape or dry border in Colorado.</p> Salvia caespitosa</em></p> There are even tiny species like this one that you can grow in a rock garden or large trough. And there's a vast world of tropical salvias that make wonderful bedding plants and elements of the summer and autumn garden.</p> I believe there will be many more spectacular salvias showing up in our gardens in the next few years--and you can get a sneak preview on Wednesday night, March 11 here at the Gardens! Press here for registration details</a>.</p> </p> </p>
Aloe polyphylla</em> at Semonkong Lodge</p> Few plants better epitomize the quandaries of plant conservation than this iconic aloe, endemic to the heights of south-central Lesotho, South Africa. Once relatively abundant (Alan Beverly estimated at least 10,000 a half century ago), this magnificent national flower of Lesotho has become extremely rare in nature...although increasingly abundant in gardens.</p> Aloe polyphylla at Malealea, southern Lesotho</p> There is reputedly a nursery selling plants in Lesotho grown from seed, but as I travelled around the country, I only saw massive plants like these that I suspect where harvested in the wild. Wild collection is certainly one reason that so few of these are still found growing wild--that and the fact that they make a fascinating sound when giant rocks are tossed into them (the countryside is filled with bored, young pastoralists who are very efficient at lots of things--killing anything that moves, and killing aloes).</p> Aloe at a typical roundeval in Lesotho</p> Again and again as we drove through villages I'd notice spiral aloes growing at this or that roundeval: happy and quite enormous. I didn't notice any little ones--perhaps they were there?</p> Of course, collecting even seed of this is strictly prohibited, the sale of large specimens especially so (and always has been). Nevertheless, Aloe polyphylla</em> has been firmly established in cultivation over the last half century. In fact, some nurseries in California have enormous stock beds that are beginning to produce vast quantities of seed. I have seen plants marketed quite cheaply at Denver area garden centers the last few years--some by Monrovia, one of the largest growers in the country.</p> Colorado columbines are sold by the thousand (if not million) each year in our area--and never cease to retain their glamour and beauty as a consequence. Is the Spiral Aloe diminished if it becomes more widely available commercially? I don't think so. The solution to pollution is dilution--a well known adage. I'd like to coin a new one: the Salvation from Depradation is Propagation!</p> If this plant had not slipped into cultivation decades ago, I believe it would truly be in peril of disappearance. I believe one day those cultivated plants may provide a gene pool that could re-stock the wild populations that have succumbed to the destruction that often comes to plants in poor countries that have little in the way of environmental education or enforcement. </p>
Delosperma floribundum</em> 'Starburst'</p> There have been a veritable flood of hardy ice plants on the market in recent years, to the point where we have forgotten about some of the worthy old timers. This happens to be a twenty year anniversary for the time when I first saw and collected this delightful morsel on the windy steppe near Springfontein, just a bit west of the Drakensberg mountains of South Africa. It was growing in sparse grassland that was terribly reminiscent of Colorado. This picture is a particularly robust specimen in cultivation--but the wild ones were almost as flashy. This was one of the second wave of hardy ice plants that were championed by Plant Select,</a> and which certainly helped propel that worthy program.</p> The commonest query I get in recent years when the subject of hardy ice plants comes up is, "Aren't you afraid these will become weeds?" I can well imagine how a surgeon must feel when asked, "Aren't you afraid the patient will die on the table?" Of course, there is a remote possibility that any plant grown out of "context" (although humans have impacted practically every square centimeter of the earth so that I wonder if there really is a "natural," non-human context any more, truth be said...) and I invariably respond that Carpobrotus edulis</em> (the weedy Californian ice plant in question) is a massive plant comparitively speaking, and the ecology of California coasts and shortgrass prairie in Colorado are not one and the same. Well... guess what I found across the street from my very own house? My charming South African waif has flown the coop!</p> Delosperma floribundum</em> "escaped"!</p> As I pull out my car from the garage, and drive a few hundred feet down my street, on the unkempt prairie to the west of me I've been noticing some pinkish-purplish flashes. What could these possibly be? I finally stopped the car and wandered out and Lo! and behold, a dozen or so Delosperma floribundum</em> had naturalized in the weedy grassland. Horrors! What have I done?</p> Delosperma floribundum</em> ESCAPED!</p> Here you can see that all the plants are growing within a few feet of a weed barrier and a mulched bed that was where the original plants were planted a year or so ago (and which have summarily died). I am curious if the demise of the parent plant was due to the richer soil, or the pathogens engendered by the bark mulch. The lesson here, of course, is that Delosperma floribundum</em> is a grassland plant that prefers to grow in sparse shortgrass prairie, in a harsh pedocal soil to the fluffy garden pedalfer mulched with bark chips. This speaks volumes about our horticultural practices. We strive to grow plants from more humid climates that need more acid, humusy soils (pedalfers), while Plant Select and others are introducing plants from semi-arid regions that do much better in our alkaline, native mineral soils (pedocals). Crazy, no?</p> At Denver Botanic Gardens Waring House</p> Of course, a few self sown seedlings a few feet from the parent plant does not a rampageous weed make (although the exotic plant haters are loth to make any distinctions). Here you can see that Delosperma floribundum</em> has produced a random seedling on occasion in the past, such as this charming plantlet I photographed ten years or more ago growing in a low wall along the street in front of the Waring House. A number of the species ice plants have shown a willingness to seed--although rarely to the point of being a serious garden menace. I suspect a goodly number of our garden plants (including natives) can self sow enough to lead to a fastidious gardener avoiding them. I'm thinking of Red Valerian (Centranthus ruber</em>) , Knautia macedonica</em>, Perovskia, black-eyed-Susan (Rudbeckia triloba</em>) and a throng of other garden classics that have been proscribed from this or that local garden because of their profuse spreading. They are pesky plants in the wrong spot, perhaps, but hardly obnoxious weeds.</p> Obviously I shall be watching these Delosperma</em> over the years to see how much more (and if) they spread in the vant field. Meanwhile, I marvel that twenty years after first seeing these they've come home to roost, so to speak. If not home, across the way!</p>
Hydrangea quercifolia</em></p> This time of year I am amazed to see spectacular mounds of Hydrangea</em> 'Annabelle' glowing around the metro area. That is one cultivar that has certainly made its mark, although one doesn't see quite as many of them as you would in a more humid part of the country. I've noticed a few other sorts here and there--including small plants of the blue species (I think the jury is still out on these when it comes to our climate however.). There is one particularly striking hydrangea that has really proven its mettle for many, many years at Denver Botanic Gardens. The Oakleaf Hydrangea (according to the USDA)</a> is restricted to just the eight southeastern-most states, and yet the plants shown above have persisted in a dense stand of English Ivy alongside Denver Botanic Gardens' Waring House for nearly 30 years.</p> Blossoms of the typical wild form</p> The common wild form has long, graceful flowers that form a bit of a cone shape up to a foot long. Like others in the genus, the fresh flowers are white, but age a lovely soft green. If you cut them and hang them in a cool dry spot, they can make wonderful dry flowers for the winter too!</p> Hydrangea quercifolia</em> 'Snowflake'</p> Growing alongside the typical form is a more compact flowered and smaller leaved cultivar that looks a bit more like the Eurasian species. It seems to have fared just as well over the decades, and makes for a nice contrast. All forms of this wonderful shrub turn glorious orange and pink in the fall, reminiscent of their native cousin Jamesia americana,</em> that grows everywhere in our mountains (the only member of the family that does).</p> Both cultivars together</p> Here you can see both cultivars growing alongside one another more clearly. Surely, if they can grow well in this most challenging spot, nearly swamped with thirsty ivy, imagine what it might do in a well prepared spot in your garden with some compost and TLC? We have another handful of cultivars of this wonderful plant elsewhere on our grounds--but not enough! Come to think of it, I have a perfect spot in my garden for one... I better go out and get it before you beat me to the punch!</p>
Winecups in Watersmart Garden</p> Strolling around York Street gardens this time of year, you are apt to see a bright rose red plant that resembles a geranium in many gardens. It is apt to be winecups (Callirhoe involucrata</em>), a favorite of many staff and keen gardeners in the area. Not a geranium at all, this is in the Mallow family, and another common name is "Poppy Mallow", although it's no more a poppy than it is a geranium. It is a native plant found sparingly on the Great Plains east of Denver, more commonly in the Midwestern prairies. It is a stellar garden plant that will survive with no supplemental irrigation once established...I see it occasionally as I drive around Denver--but not nearly enough!</p> Winecups in Highlands</p> Here is an amazing planting I found yesterday in Highlands neighborhood--easily ten feet across, completely filling one of those triangular hellstrip corners that are so often weed infested and neglected-looking (making neighborhoods look like slums). Here is a great alternative--a rock, a bit of Russian sage (Perovskia</em>) and an exuberant mass of winecups blooming for months on end--all with no supplemental water!</p> A closer look</p> This mass is growing in part shade--and the mound is almost two feet tallk, as opposed to the first picture in this series taken at Denver Botanic Gardens, in full sun--well less than a foot tall. It does need some room to ramble--but almost everyone has a spot where this can flourish.</p> Callirhoe involucrata v. tenuissima</em> Not everyone likes the hot magenta of the typical form of this species: there is a lighter, more pink form of winecups that is found originally in Mexico--sometimes classed as var. tenuissima. It does have even more finely divided foliage and a neater habit and the flowers often have a striking white eye--here seen growing in the Rock Alpine Garden as it transitions to the Gates Garden in the west. I am especially fond of this form, first introduced to cultivation by Yucca-do a few decades ago.</p> Closeup of tenuissima</em>.</p> You can see if you compare this with the next that var. tenuissima</em> is quite different in effect. Come to think of it, I think I need both in my garden! And I wish we'd see it a lot more everywhere in town: one of the toughest and most beautiful native perennials!</p> Closeup of var. involucrata</em></p> Here is a closeup of the typical form for comparison with the one above--both are really stunning! For sale in better Garden Centers (forget the Box Stores when it comes to native plants)..can be planted any time--just make sure it doesn't dry out in the height of the summer until established!</p>
Purple Mountain sun daisy at City and County Building</p> For over a decade the Master Gardeners of Denver and I maintained a low water garden</a> in front of the City and County Building in the Civic Center of Denver. It was with mixed feelings that I saw this replaced a few years ago with a much simpler, and rather classic garden design. A few days ago, as I drove past, I was startled to see a familiar flash of rosy purple pink: Surely that's not "Purple Mountain Sun Daisy?" I stopped and sure enough, Osteospermum barberiae</em> 'Purple Mountain'--one of the first hardy ice plants to be promoted in U.S. horticulture--was making quite a show. This was introduced to horticulture by Plant Select in 1998</a>--and has gained a steady following across the country over the interim.</p> Closeup of Purple Mountain</p> If you are not familiar with this plant, take a closer look. Photographs have a hard time capturing the distinctive and unique color--somewhere between hot pink and rich purple violet. The color is fantastic, and everyone loves it. There is a slightly darker ring around the disk flowers that make it even more alluring, and it does change hue every so slightly over the days that it opens. The reverse of the ray flowers is a silky bronze color--important because the flowers close at night or in dark weather. And while it blooms most enthusiastically from late April to mid June, there are scattered flowers on this lovely plant all summer long. Did I mention it has leathery, dark green evergreen leaves?</p> Purple Mountain bedded out</p> I take more than a little pride that the park's staff and designers have chosen such a prominent spot to showcase a plant that was debuted at Denver Botanic Gardens in 1991 (a few years later High Country Gardens began to sell this from germplasm they obtained from us). And now I see it popping up here and there around town.</p> Bank planting of Purple Mountain</p> I took this picture of a mass planting at a bank a few blocks from Denver Botanic Gardens a couple years ago--I noticed it's still going strong and blooming spectacularly this year again...</p> I've seen wonderful plantings in Pueblo and Vail--two utterly different environments: the plant obviously has a wide latitude of cultural tolerance. I have friends who have grown it in Massachusetts and California. Truth be said, it does seem sensitive to fungal or bacterial damage in some gardens. If you've had trouble with 'Purple Mountain', do try Osteospermum</em> AVALANCHE (see below).</p> Osteospermum AVALANCHE in the Mordecai Children's Garden</p> If you have never visited the Children's Garden at Denver Botanic Gardens (thinking it was only for kids), do not pass go, do not collect $200 Monopoly dollars--get yourself down there pronto! You will find amazing spreads not only of this gorgeous South African, but of all manner of wonderful montane and alpine plants that thrive in theCildren's Garden's green roof soil mix.</p> Denver Botanic Gardens can be proud indeed to have debuted such an important and uncanny group of perennials. The annual Osteospermums are well and good--but these hardy sorts make plush groundcovers, and bloom for months on end. Perhaps you should include a few in your garden? Who doesn't need a little Purple Mountain majesty above one's fruited plains!</p>
