Sir Thomas Lipton

As large shrub roses go, I believe that 'Sir Thomas Lipton' has gotten the short end of the stick and I'd like to apologize to its Scottish gentleman namesake for listening to the lack of hype regarding this rose.

The real Sir Thomas Lipton (1848-1931) was a Scotsman who was a persistent America's Cup challenger and who founded the Lipton Tea Company.  'Sir Thomas Lipton', the rose, is a hybrid rugosa introduced in 1900 by Van Fleet, he of 'New Dawn' fame. It was product of a cross between R. rugosa alba and the lovely Polyantha ‘Clotilde Soupert’.  My specimen is about 6 years old now and approximately 6 feet tall and 5 feet wide, blooming profusely with fragrant, pure white double flowers that are about 2.5 to 3 inches in diameter.  The foliage is rugose, medium green, and wrinkled as fits the heritage of this rose, and it requires no fungal spray here in Kansas summers, nor does it seem to be bothered by any insects.  A Missouri website says it may need crown protection in St. Louis, but I highly doubt it.  I've never seen any winter dieback here in Manhattan, Kansas, and it also has survived an ice storm unscathed that broke off and flattened large portions of other roses, so I've got a little faith in this rose. At least one source says it's hardy to Zone 3 and I believe it.

I avoided this rose for years on the basis of Suzy Verrier's description in her Rugosa bible, Rosa Rugosa. She writes "Unfortunately, this poor representative of the rugosa hybrids is widely available....'Sir Thomas Lipton' is ungraceful and rigid in its growth and has the nastiest thorns imaginable...rare repeat blooms."  Wow, Suzy, give it to us straight, don't beat around the bush!  Many other writers also suggest that any repeat bloom is sporadic and not noticeable, however, I would disagree since my specimen seems to keep blooming throughout the season, not perhaps with the abundance of the first spring bloom, but with an acceptable repeat that never leaves the bush without a few flowers. This rose may be a perfect example of one who performs differently for rosarians in various climates. Sources also argue about the fragrance of this rose, with some saying it has a strong fragrance and others saying it has no fragrance at all; I would call it moderate, a "3" if an average Bourbon, say 'Variegata de Bologna' is a "5".  Ms. Verrier is right on target about the thorns though;  this rose would make a formidable security hedge.    

I do find it interesting that it is often compared with 'Blanc Double de Coubert', the classic white double rugosa, and favorably.  Peter Beales, in Classic Roses, says that 'Sir Thomas Lipton' is "Not unlike 'Blanc Double de Coubert' in many ways, including colour, but with a few more petals in the flowers," That is high praise when you consider that a few pages previously he describes 'Blanc' as "one of the outstanding Rugosa hybrids."   So, in the end, it seems that 'Sir Thomas Lipton' is a rose you'll either love or hate, but I've found it worth a try as long as you're ready to shovel prune it if it isn't suited by your climate.

(Ain't) Red Horse Chestnut

Consider this blog both a warning to the unwary enthusiastic gardener who is gullible enough to believe everything written about a plant, and as a plea to someone knowledgeable to please confirm that I at least got what I purchased(?).

Early in the last decade, I began to covet the pictures and descriptions of the Red Horse Chestnut (Aesculus carnea 'Briottii'), and decided that I must have one for my very own. I was probably mis-led by Wayside Garden's usual flowery description and embellished photography, but I was sure that this was a perfect tree for my landscape. If memory serves, I failed once with a bare-root specimen planted in Spring, but I was able to obtain a specimen planted at Thanksgiving in 2004 that has survived despite numerous prunings by roaming deer, who seem to love the early spring leaves as they unfold. These days, I keep it surrounded by wire in the early spring, as you can see in the picture below right, to deter the deer.

'Briotii' is the best known cultivar of the Red Horse Chestnut, also known as the "Ruby Red Horse Chestnut", and at maturity, it is supposed to make a rounded tree of 25-35 feet tall and in diameter. It is also supposed to be resistant to drought, heat and wind once established, and that, at least, seems to be true. However, the spring flowers are variously described as "rose-red" or "ruby-red", or "deep red" depending on where you read about them, but if they are really supposed to be red, then I've got a mislabeled cultivar. As you can see from the picture at the upper left, I think it would be generous to call these blooms pink. I might even argue that they are really a blush cream with pink overtones. I will admit that last year's pictures look a little more pink than this year's, so there may be some environmental effect on the bloom color. I suppose I should be satisfied with the pretty flowering of the plant, but I can't get past that I purchased it from a nursery with pictures showing a dark red bloom.

So, do I, or do I not, have the 'Briotti' that I intended to purchase? It certainly is not the Common Horse Chestnut which is undoubtedly more creamy yellow in bloom. And it seems to be similar to the 'Briotti' that I once saw in the Denver Botanical Gardens. I must learn to be satisfied with the "devil I have" rather than what I dreamed of. I just wanted to warn the rest of you not to expect more than you're getting.

For the sake of a good education, it's a horse chestnut if it is a Eurasian species, but North American species are "buckeyes". Since I grew up with native Buckeye trees in Indiana and had to deal with the pompous Buckeye's of Ohio State, I'm a little more comfortable with that term than with horse chestnut. I'm still not entirely sure, in fact, whether it should be "Horse Chestnut" or "Horsechestnut." I've also learned that British children play a game called "conkers" with horse chestnuts where the horse chestnut is on a string (a conker) and players take turns trying to break each other's conker by swinging at it. It's unethical, by the way, to harden your conker by baking it in vinegar or otherwise altering it. Alas, the game evidently cannot be played with buckeyes.  I was not taught it growing up in Indiana and Hoosiers can't play games with onomatopoeic names anyway. Too bad, because I missed out on competing in the World Conker championship (yes, there is one, and Ray Kellock and Wendy Bradford were the 2010 Men's and Women's champions). Never fear, fellow Hoosiers, the game is presently dying off because of growing Nannystate worries that children may be injured from conker shards during the game and because of concerns for participating nut-allergy sufferers.

What is the world coming to when protective equipment is required for a simple game of conkers?

Papaver bracteatum

One of my most-awaited plants began to bloom this year on May 9th.  In the 10 years it has grown in my garden, it has bloomed three times on my birthday, May 16th, so it is a bit early this year, but welcome nonetheless. 

Years ago, I purchased a poppy labeled as the Red Himalayan poppy and also as Papaver bracteatum at a local store on the promise that the red of this poppy would be as bright as advertised.  And I believe it has fulfilled that promise with stunning success, although the plant was obviously mislabeled.  Papaver bracteatum is the scientific name for the Iranian poppy, not the Red Himalayan poppy, so one of the two names must be wrong and I choose to believe it was the common name printed on the label that was incorrect.

Papaver bracteatum is a perennial poppy with large bright red flowers up to 8 inches (20 cm) across on stiff stalks up to 3 1/2 feet high here in Kansas Zone 5B.  It has deep purpleish-black "sex" parts in the center and a prominent black spot near the base of the petals. I'll admit that in growth form and habit, I could have been sold an Oriental poppy under two false names and I might not know the difference. Papaver bracteatum was one of the species that the perennial Oriental poppies were derived from and it is similar in plant and flower form to the latter anyway.  If mine is a plain old Oriental, it's the brightest red and has the largest flowers I've ever seen.

The species has been used commercially to produce thebaine, which can be converted to codeine and semi-synthetic opiates, but it does not contain  morphine or other alkaloids.  According to Wikipedia, the Office of Management and Budget under  President Richard Nixon proposed domestic cultivation of P. bracteatum in the early 1970's as an alternative source of opiates to decrease the pressure for illegal opium poppy crops and heroin production.  However, for once, the US government wisely realized that substituting one source of drug misuse for another was not perhaps the best of choices and withdrew the recommendation.

All I can say in that regard is that this has not been an easy plant to reproduce for me, either from seed or by division. I had two plants at one time from a division of the original, but any competition for space, say, a rampant daylily, can eventually snuff this little gem out.  I guard the original plant with all my meager gardening abilities.

Fast Times on the Prairie

Things are happening incredibly fast in the garden right now.  The cool temperatures of the past few weeks followed by the 80's and 90's of the past 5 days seems to be condensing the spring blooming season, along with throwing off the timing I expect.  The peonies, irises, and roses all look like they are going to hit peak bloom at the same time and I may quite possibly float away on the essence of colorful paradise I'm going to have by next week.

Rosa 'Jeri Jennings'

But, today seems to be a day for first things and I wanted to show two prize new plants that are blooming for the first time in my garden.  The first of the Rogue Valley roses that I planted last fall has opened, if just barely, and I present, for your pleasure, 'Jeri Jennings', a beautiful Hybrid Musk rose bred by Paul Barden in 2007.  She survived an unusually harsh Zone 5 winter and looks healthy, if small.  I absolutely love the yellow-orange tones that are reminiscent to me of 'Alchymist'.  I haven't yet sampled her fabled scent, but I'll put nose to ground soon and check that out as well.

Peony 'Prairie Moon'

Last year, I spent months eyeing a herbaceous peony at a local nursery, and finally surrendered my yearnings to what I initially thought was a high price and purchased and planted it.  'Prairie Moon'. a 1959 cross of  P. ‘Laura Magnuson’ x P. ‘Archangel’ is not a new peony to commerce, but it is new to my garden.  This thing was blooming its head off last year when I first saw it and the creamy single blooms lit up the area of the garden center, standing out from the other peonies there.  Both because of the "prairie" in its name, the spectacular display, and the fact that it was introduced in 1959, the year of my birth, made it a no-brainer for my garden.  And here it is, blooming now for about 5 days, the first of the peonies (other than species P. tenuifolia) to show up in my garden.

Peony 'Scarlet O'Hara'

A final welcome visitor, however, is the large single peony 'Scarlet O'Hara', who opened for the first time this morning, although it is her second year blooming in my garden.  Gaze on that intricate yellow center for a moment, carpels and pink-tipped stigma, accented by the large scarlet petals, and I promise you, you can get lost in the bloom.  The picture at right doesn't do justice to the fact that the blooms are as big as your hand, and they're on a tall, 3-foot peony, so the garden display of this peony when it gets going is unequaled.

Fare well all, Bliss is soon to come.