December Newsletter

Mulberry Woods Native Plant Nursery Newsletter 
December 2011
Volume II, Number 6.

An Anniversary, Native Azaleas R Us, and a legendary Yellow Hibiscus.
Gentle Readers,

The newsletter has been on vacation for some time, and a good bit has transpired during its absence.  The first anniversary of our enterprise came and went, and, in accordance with our business plan, we are still too small to fail.  We have started a sustainable gardening project and related website called HeirloomOnions.com.  Response has been excellent to the point that most of our perennial onion varieties are already sold out (sorry).  And after all, a man can never have too many half-finished websites.  But the big addition to the nursery product lines is to follow in the next paragraph.

Native Azaleas R Us

I'll probably get a cease and desist order from that big toy company for that heading, but we now have six species of native azaleas in stock and ready to go.  These are not the little rooted twigs that most people sell, but are one gallon, three year old, mostly blooming size plants.  We currently have:

Rhododendron alabamense:  Alabama Azalea.  Mid season fragrant white blooms with a prominent yellow spot.  Plants rarely exceed 5'.
Rhododendron arborescens: Sweet Azalea.  May blooming extremely fragrant white flowers on large plants (hence the name "arborescens").
Rhododendron austrinum: Florida Flame Azalea.  Early yellowish orange colored blooms on a plant that can reach 10'.
Rhododendron flammeum: Oconee Azalea.  Reddish yellow to red blooms in April on an extremely heat tolerant plant.  Native to Georgia and South Carolina.
Rhododendron prunifolium: Plumleaf Azalea.  Legendary rare red flowered species from Georgia and Alabama that blooms in July, August, or September.
Rhododendron viscosum: Swamp Azalea.  Late spring white blooming low plant that tolerates more moisture than most species.

We sell these plants via mail order for $14.95, though the usual pick them up at the nursery discount applies as well.  The current rhododendron web pages are just skeleton pages that  still allow for the plants to be purchased online via the shopping cart (see above half finished web site comments).  By spring we also hope to add R. canescens, R. eastmanii, and R. periclymenoides.  We can also try to track down any other varieties you might have been looking for.

A Legendary Yellow Hibiscus

This one definitely fits into the "incredibly strange" category.  Back in the summer a learned gentleman sent me an email asking if I had ever seen the yellow hibiscus that is native to Warrior, Alabama, just down the road from here.  Not only had I never seen it, but I had also never heard of it, though it was formally classified as Hibiscus incanum by Dr. Asa Gray of Harvard (that's the same Dr. Gray that named Neviusia alabamensis, the Alabama Snow wreath, in the 1860's).

Of course, after a few emails went back and forth, I was finally told that no one has in fact recorded seeing the plant since the 1880's.  There is a specimen still gathering dust at the herbarium at Harvard, though no one has undertaken an expedition to try and rediscover the plant--if it in fact still exists.  Last summer's drought and heat wave kept me away from area, but next year, weather permitting, I might just have to launch my canoe on the Locust Fork and see what I can find.  And I won't keep any secrets.  Promise.

The Fine Print
All newsletters will also be posted and archived on our blog for those who wish to add a public comment.  Anyone irritated, annoyed, or in any way flummoxed by this newsletter should email me, Jeff Cupp, through the website http://mulberrywoodsnursery.com and be forever removed from this mailing list.

A Worst Ever Plant Ordering Experience

It has been at least twenty years since I had a bad experience ordering plants, as most plant people that appear to be reputable are reputable.  About six weeks ago I ordered some good looking stuff from a place called "Heritage Harvest Seeds" in Canada.  I did not receive a shipping date when I placed my order, which made me a little concerned, but I forgot about it, because hey, they're Canadians, how bad can they be?  Boy, did I ever find out.  After a month I saw that the items I had ordered were listed as out of stock.  I emailed the company and was assured that my stuff would ship "in a couple of weeks."  A couple of weeks later (no order shipped or delivered, or any communication sent from the company) I had still received no notice of shipment, and I asked again when my order might ship, as I had been told by a company in the UK that they could deliver to my doorstep in 4-10 days-- and that's on the other side of the Atlantic, by the way.  When I complained about the slackness of the company in question, I was told that they did not appreciate rudeness.  MY ORDER WAS CANCELLED.  To their credit, they did give me a refund, though I could have gotten one from Paypal anyway.  Moral of this story:  NEVER EVER ORDER ANYTHING FROM HERITAGE HARVEST SEED IN CANADA.  CHECK OUT YOUR SUPPLIERS.  ASK FOR A DEFINITE SHIP DATE.  BE PERSISTENT.  STAND UP FOR YOUR RIGHTS.  LET THE BUYER BEWARE.  CAVEAT EMPTOR!

July Newsletter

Mulberry Woods Native Plant Nursery Newsletter 
July 2011
Volume II, Number 5.


A Word for the Warm, the Plant Mobile Rolls On, and a Yellow Hibiscus
Gentle Readers,

How do you spell hot?  Around here it is called s-o-u-t-h-e-a-s-t.  Since the last freezing weather--that was back in mid February--it has been consistently above average on the old thermometer.  Maybe the big earthquake in Japan knocked the earth off of its axis, and instead of us being at about the same latitude as Tripoli, Libya, we are now somewhere near the middle of the Sahara.  Maybe.  More likely, global warming is making an example of the ozone clouded Cullman-Birmingham-Hoover area.  All deniers of global warming are hereby invited to spend the rest of the summer in an uncooled attic somewhere in central Alabama.  I would especially like to extend this invitation to all of our members of congress, even though their supply of hot air seems to be inexhaustible already..

The Department of Advertising Department

Come and get your plants at the Homewood Farmer's Market this Saturday, July 16!  That's right, we have found a market that actively promotes sustainable production of plants and vegetables, located right next to Homewood City Hall.  The plant mobile, aka my eleven year old Toyota truck, will be there from 7 until 12:30, at which time it turns into a pumpkin and rolls back northward.  Prices are good since I don't have to box up the plants and pay the USPS to take them to your door.  Herbs are $3, small natives are $5. and gallon natives are only $7.  What a deal!  I think I may buy some plants from myself.  I may also have some very fine hardneck garlic there, although I am always tempted to horde that and eat all of it myself.

A Yellow Hibiscus

Summer always reminds me of Hibiscus time, as we had a huge clump of wild hibiscus in our yard when I was only a young thing.  I have six species and two varieties started here at the nursery, and I am certain I will add more every year.  Three species are already of a size to sell, and all six should be ready by this fall.  The wild species fascinate me much more than the ever-present hybrids, which are pretty but disproportionate, especially in a landscape full of natives.  The color range of the species is also greater than the hybrids, which is not usually the case once the plant breeders get their hold on a genus.

A case in point is the lovely Pineland Hibiscus, known in the Latin speaking plant world as Hibiscus aculeatus.  Unlike the other white-pink-red natives, Pineland Hibiscus has a delicate light lemon custard yellow bloom the size of a saucer.  A southern coastal native, the plant also likes it hot: in fact, the hotter the better, which makes it an ideal plant for a changing climate.  It also likes water, water, and more water.  And as if the other hibiscus are not easy enough to grow, Pineland Hibiscus is the easiest of all.  It produces a multi-stemmed plant by its second year, and also produces lots a seed that can be germinated like okra, though dead heading makes for a freer blooming specimen.

Check out the pictures of this plant on our website at http://mulberrywoodsnursery.com/?page_id=172.  We have plants in a variety of sizes and can ship them beginning in October.  This is one of the more tender native hibiscus, so winter shipping is not recommended.  Anyone who is at Homewood this weekend can get a blooming size plant at a real bargain price.

The Fine Print
All newsletters will also be posted and archived on our blog for those who wish to add a public comment.  Anyone irritated, annoyed, or in any way flummoxed by this newsletter should email me, Jeff Cupp, through the website http://mulberrywoodsnursery.com and be forever removed from this mailing list.

May 2011 Newsletter

Mulberry Woods Native Plant Nursery Newsletter 
May 2011
Volume II, Number 4.
Storms and more storms, a perennial Clematis, and a one man crosscut saw

Gentle Readers,

Having just sat through another severe thunderstorm with more high wind and more heavy rain, all I can say is the following--severe thunderstorms are for wimps.  We Alabamians know what a real storm is, and like many people, I still have a few trees lying around my house from the "Great Storm" of April (more on this later).  I now have enough firewood to last a couple of years, and for those trees, it is ashes to ashes.  Later in the year, when the inevitable drought hits, the left over brush may turn out to be nothing more than dust to dust.  Right now, however, with all the rain, the surroundings are a jungle combined with what looks like a temperate rain forest.  Whatever downed timber that remains has two options--it is either ashes to ashes, or compost to compost.

Clematis Growing Wild
I have been saving this one for some time, just counting the days until I could get some really good photos of these spectacular plants in bloom.  Fortunately the wait was short, for even though these Clematis are perennial vines (they die down to the ground in the winter), in the spring they shoot out of the ground like a Saturn V and are blooming by April.  What is this little known plant?  A variety of the leatherflower (aka, an “American Bell” clematis--check out the great website http://clematisviorna.info) named Net Leaf Leatherflower, or more technically, Clematis reticulata.

Net Leaf Leatherflower is a true Southerner, native from Texas eastward just into South Carolina.  Little known outside of its native habitat, this vine inhabits sandy soil habitats and river valleys throughout its range.  It is rarely noticed because it does not often receive enough sunlight in its native woodlands to flower heavily.  Usually vines have only a few blooms, if any.  Most people walk by them without even noticing the just one more tiny vine creeping along the ground and into the understory shrubs,

Given a chance in edge habitat, such as a forest border or shrub border, however, the vine becomes a flower producing fool.  The color range is unusual as well, ranging from lemon-limey green to pink to purple.  Check out the pictures on the “Native Vines” page at http://mulberrywoodsnursery.com, and on my Clematis reticulata home page.  All the plants pictured are growing within a few feet of each other!

For the first time this year we have quite a few of these plants, in both one gallon and smaller (perennial) pot sizes.  They will be ready to ship by October, but if you just can’t wait, come by and pick up a couple of the best looking plants at the nursery.  Anyone who comes by in the next couple of weeks can also see the unbelievable blooming display of my semi-cultivated semi-wild plants.  I have mine growing up through oak leaf hydrangea, red buckeye, and sparkleberry,. but a couple have gotten so happy that they have taken off and are growing up (respectively) a dogwood and a black cherry.

An Incredibly Strange But Disturbingly True Landscaping Story
Back in April, while preparing to teach the last class of the spring semester, I was greeted at breakfast by the wailing of the Garden City tornado sirens.  Melanie Jane and I gathered ourselves together and headed for the basement.  After a couple of minutes of howling winds we heard the dreaded giant WHOOSH sound and a crash into the side of house.  I ran back upstairs and shone a flashlight out the kitchen window (it was still before daylight).  In what had been our side yard now sat a giant pile of pine trees, including one eighty footer that was just perching on the roof.

Upon inspection at first light the damage appeared minimal--the heat pump was knocked off its foundation and the perching tree had not cracked our roof.  I cranked up the old chainsaw and removed the first tree from the heat pump--not even a scratch was visible.  Getting the eighty footer off the house proved more problematic, as water had infiltrated my chain saw fuel and the saw sputtered to a stop.  There was only one alternative--the old German one man crosscut saw.

I have felled many trees with the crosscut saw before, as it is many times safer than a chainsaw.  A leaner creates many problems, however, not the least of which is the possibility of it popping up into the air and giving the sawyer a good whack in the chin.  I first cut out a decent escape path, and then proceeded to saw into the pine. 

The most disturbing thing was the almost immediate creaking sounds that started coming from the tree.  Of course, the wood grain ripping sounds that followed were no better.  Even when I stopped to rest, the popping continued.  POP, POP, POP.  At half way through the tree a giant crack appeared, but the trunk barely budged.  At 90% cut the tree rolled a quarter turn and then stopped, leaving only a strip of wood holding it together.  With a last few cuts the trunk popped into the air (as predicted) and started spinning.  I made one giant backward leap for mankind, and watched the tree roll off the house and land right on top of my favorite white buckeye.

Strangely enough, only part of one roof shingle was pulled from the house, and I have saved it as a memento.  The tree also perched up on its limbs one last time and only broke a few leaves off the buckeye, which is now covered with bloom buds.  The pine trees are now a pile of limbs and logs.  The saw sits next to me as I type.  High tech is defeated by low tech once again, or maybe sometimes it is definitely just better to be lucky instead of skilled.

The Fine Print
All newsletters will also be posted and archived on our blog for those who wish to add a public comment.  Anyone irritated, annoyed, or in any way flummoxed by this newsletter should email me, Jeff Cupp, through the website http://mulberrywoodsnursery.com and be forever removed from this mailing list.

Mulberry Woods April 2011 Newsletter

February 2011 Newsletter

Mulberry Woods Native Plant Nursery Newsletter 
February 2011
Volume II, Number 2.

A Vamp for Valentines, Freezing Seeds, Killer Compost, and Squirrels a Flying

Gentle Readers,

February is NSWAM, or National Schizophrenic Weather Awareness Month.  Actually I just made up all of that, but it might as well be true.  Expect wind, snow, sleet, rain, sunshine, warm weather, cold weather, and with a little luck, maybe a hailstorm as well.  Only one thing is certain about February weather, as George Carlin used to say in the role of the hippy dippy weatherman:  Forecast for Tonight--Dark.

A Vamp for Valentine's Day
There's nothing much better than a good vamp--Wood Vamp, that is, also known as Climbing Hydrangea (Decumaria barbara).  I am not certain where the common name came from, but it could be from the fact that the plant grabs on to something with its aerial rootlets and then won't ever let go.  Of course the secondary meaning for vamp is a cover, and that is something the plant does extremely well.  If  you have a dead Chevy out in the yard somewhere, you could plant a couple of these around it and watch it disappear, for at least nine months out of the year, anyway.

While Climbing Hydrangea is not an actual member of the genus Hydrangea, it is related closely enough to be mistaken for a Hydrangea when in bloom.  The plant does not have the sterile bracts that make Hydrangea species like Hydrangea quercifolia so showy, and so the floral display is short lived.  But Climbing Hydangea makes up for this shortcoming by having decorative leaves and crazy randomly twisted branches that provide interest after the first cold weather strips the plant of its foliage.

The final appeal of Climbing Hydrangea is its rambling growth habit.  Used as a groundcover the vine will crawl and root itself all around as long as it has sufficient water.  At the same time it is not an aggressive grower and thus seldom gets out of hand.  As an upright vine it is at its most showy, as it attempts to climb up out of the canopy into the sun so that it can start blooming (ground dwelling Climbing Hydrangea will not bloom).  Don't be surprised to see Climbing Hydrangea reach as high as thirty feet in the air.  And don't ever, ever, let it climb up a painted surface, unless you really really like to paint.

The best news as far as we are concerned is if you want one, we have them.  In fact, we have near blooming sized plants for the same price that other nurseries sell little barely rooted twiggies.  For more details visit our website (http://mulberrywoodsnursery.com).

Production Notes
If you have native plant seeds planted in pots outside, and think because of the weather you should bring them inside, all I can say is DON'T.  Our natives are adapted to this freezing/thawing cycle, which in fact helps break open  hard seed coats to allow germination.  As a case in point, I planted fresh seed of Clematis reticulata, one of our native leather flowers, outside in September.  Imagine my surprise when I found they had already germinating by the first week of January!  I couldn't resist the temptation to bring them in and let them start growing under artificial light.  The seeds that had already germinated are now small plants a couple of inches tall, but no additional seed has germinated.  I have obviously sacrificed numbers of plants merely in the interest of instant gratification.

An Incredibly Strange But Disturbingly True Gardening Story
The Disturbingly True Gardening Story is back with a vengeance! All that time off has let it develop from  the merely strange into the potentially deadly.  It's bad enough that we have to worry about everything from snow to global warming to this year's coming (inevitable) summer time drought.  Now there's a new threat--killer compost.  I don't mean compost so good that it's killer;  I mean compost that can literally kill you.  The BBC has the scoop right here (http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-11167176).

I really do live way out in the woods, and keep country hours, up weekdays at 5:15 A.M.  The other day I awoke at 5 A.M. to the sound of little tiny claws scratching on metal.  I knew what it was, but managed to sleep all the way until 5:05 anyway.  I got up, went downstairs, opened the catalytic unit on my woodstove, and waited until the varmint crawled out of the stovepipe down into my stove.  It was, of course, an Eastern Flying Squirrel that had mistaken my chimney for a knothole while gliding through the neighborhood.

This winter the Flying Squirrels are here in force and have taken to using our house as a launching pad.  They spend hours scampering around on our roof some nights before jumping off into the great beyond.  This little fellow, however, as I looked at him through the glass door of our stove, had an expression which can only be described as "panicked like a flying squirrel trapped in a  woodstove."  I followed protocol and opened the front door to give him a clear escape route.  When I opened the stove door he decided to glide for it, and launched himself toward the front door.

Unfortunately he had about eight inches of height to launch from, glided for only about six,  hit our slate hearth with a whack, and bounced like a dead cat.  Undeterred by such a minor setback, he immediately jumped up and ran out the door onto our deck.  And from there, he launched himself once again into the great Flying Squirrel beyond.

The Fine Print
All newsletters will also be posted and archived on our blog for those who wish to add a public comment.  Anyone irritated, annoyed, or in any way flummoxed by this newsletter should email me, Jeff Cupp, through the website http://mulberrywoodsnursery.com and be forever removed from this mailing list.

January 2011 Newsletter

Mulberry Woods Native Plant Nursery Newsletter 
January 2011
Volume II, Number 1.

A Four Season Plant, a Four Season Town, and the Death of an Alleged Fungus Thief
Gentle Readers,
"O wind, If winter comes, can spring be far behind?"  Such was the question posed rhetorically by the poet Shelley.  Our wind has been west/northwest lately, with an occasional south wind blowing in a reminder of spring right here in the middle of winter.  Don't blink, however, because shortly our winter will be gone and March Madness will be underway again--and I am not referring to the NCAA basketball tournament.

A Plant for All Seasons--Oakleaf Hydrangea
William Bartram of Philadelphia, the son of King George III's royal botanist and a famed plant explorer in his own right, was traveling from Augusta to Mobile in 1775 when he camped along a creek near the Flint River in central Georgia.  There he found "a very singular and beautiful shrub, which I suppose is a species of Hydrangea."  Unfortunately Bartram did not see the plant in bloom, as he recorded the flower color being "of a dark rose or crimson color at first."  However, there is no doubt as to the true identity of the plant after he noted that the stems "are covered with several barks or rinds" and that the leaves were "very much resembling the leaves of some of our Oaks."  And thus Bartram became the first American of European extraction to describe almost everybody's favorite native shrub, Hydrangea quercifolia, known commonly to this day as Oakleaf Hydrangea (O.L.H. for short).

The four season long good looks, or the combination of blooms, bark, leaves, and seed heads have made O.L.H. the favorite of gardeners and garden writers alike, with at least one writer calling the plant the numero uno shrub for American gardens.  Such popularity, unfortunately, has lead to the plant suffering from what I call "cultivaritis."  Every nursery/propagator now has their own creatively named variety of O.L.H., each of which possesses it's own peculiar magical properties, be it small stature, large stature, big blooms, small blooms, etc, und so weiter.  If the O.L.H. "Old Granddad" you bought ends up looking nothing as promised after being planted in the landscape--blame it on the photographer.  That such cultural practices also limit genetic diversity and create a monotonous landscape is just another reason to avoid such hyperbole, as well as such advertising practices.

One day I may lose my last marble and start selling O.L.H. "Maximus Minimus" and its companion "Minimus Maximus."  Until then we sell only wild stock Hydrangea quercifolia, propagated from plants right here in the middle of the peculiarly small native range, which is mostly just Alabama.  If anyone doubts the adaptability of native plants see the Hydrangea photos on our website page (http://mulberrywoodsnursery.com/?page_id=380).  The two O.L.H. pictured growing in the sandstone ledge are in a west facing location that gets roasted by the summer sun.  I have a plant in our nursery that is growing atop a sandstone boulder in about two inches of soil.  Our Alabama plant inspector thinks it is a trick.  And he's right--I water it at least once a month every summer.

The laws of nature may never in fact align with the rules of advertising.  If that is true, so be it.  We can at least guarantee one thing about our O.L.H.:  they will look a lot like that "very singular and beautiful shrub" that William Bartram wandered upon in 1775.  It will be exceptional through at least four seasons every year--maybe more.  Except, wait, our plants will not have any dark rose or crimson flowers--just white ones that turn pinkish when pollinated.  Where did that whole color thing come from?  Maybe there really is an O.L.H. "Bartram's Rose" out there somewhere?  Let me get out my rose colored glasses.

A Four Season Kind of  Town
Some people travel to Gatlinburg when they want their fix of the high Southern Appalachians.  My spouse Melanie and I usually head for Damascus, VA  (AKA "Trail Town USA"), or better yet, Richwood, WV.  Richwood is in Mountain State parlance a four season town, which means that at least some do it yourself outdoor activities are available year round, even when the whole area is buried under a couple or more feet of snow.  And while downtown Richwood looks like a giant Georgia-Pacific lumber yard--the local beauty queen is called "Miss Lumberjack"--the options for the naturalist or just plain nature lover are unmatched by any place I know.  And did I mention that wild native Appalachian brook trout can be caught inside the city limits?  Probably not.

Botanically the region around Richwood is one of the most biodiverse in the world.  The usual Southern mountain flora of Rosebay Rhododendron (Rhododendron maximum) and deciduous Magnolia line every lower elevation stream.  At high elevation in spring red spruce trees form a dark canopy over colonies of painted trillium (Trillium undulatum). More unusual, however, are the "glades" found at the headwaters of the local trout streams, the Cranberry and the Cherry.  The largest of these, "Cranberry Glades," is a giant sphagnum peat bog that represents the southernmost extension of Canadian zone flora into the East/Southeast.  Growing in the glades are cranberries, giant ferns, wild orchids, and a favorite plant of the local black bear population, the skunk cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus).  We once had a bear cub jump onto the path through the glades no more than six feet in front of us, but it was looking for mother bear and more skunk cabbage, instead of trouble.

Rising above the glades is Black Mountain, named for a wildfire that happened close to a century ago.  Red spruce slash left by the aforementioned lumberjacks ignited and burned at such a high temperature that even the centuries old mountain top soil was consumed by the blaze.  The summit of Black Mountain has since been re-colonized by dwarfed rhododendron, mountain laurel, and native azaleas, which now put on a indescribable show in summer.  It was also on the High Rocks trail atop Black Mountain that I had my one William Bartram moment, when I wandered up on a single plant of white flowering Turk's Cap Lily (Lilium superbum), a variety previously unknown and unrecorded, blooming alone among a sea of the common orange lilies.  A plant unknown to science!  A potential cultivar!  Alas, the white lily is still unknown and unrecorded save by me, for when I returned later to collect some seed, the entire colony of lilies had been mowed off down to the ground by deer.

Production Notes
If you have seeds that need cold treatment, plant them now!  If you don't know if your seeds need to be chilled, just search the internet--lots of good information is available for free now that formerly required access to a research library and an advanced degree.  I have three doubly-dormant native lily species in the works, michauxii, philadelphicum, and superbum.  Some michauxii will germinate this spring, but I am not so sure about the others.  And then there is the multiple year wait until they bloom.  But if just one should turn out to be white. . .

An Incredibly Strange But Disturbingly True Farming Story
The Disturbingly True Gardening Story is back from vacation in the Bahamas, which you may recall lead to its replacement last month by a Disturbingly True Hunting Story.   However, exhaustion due to prolonged vacation has led the Gardening Story to yield once more to another close cousin, the Disturbingly True Farming Story.  And Mon Dieu!, what a harrowing French tale of woe and intrigue it is!

When times get hard, even good country French folk will turn to larceny.  And then again, there are those people who are just good for nothing crooks to begin with.  At any rate, this verdict is going all the way to the jury.  I don't want to give away too much, but the story involves a young farmer, a known thief, a fungus worth $500 a pound, and a firearm.  Here are the details: (http://news.scotsman.com/world/France-Truffle-farmer-is-held.6669315.jp).

The Fine Print
All newsletters will also be posted and archived on our blog for those who wish to add a public comment.  Anyone irritated, annoyed, or in any way flummoxed by this newsletter should email me, Jeff Cupp, through the website http://mulberrywoodsnursery.com and be forever removed from this mailing list.