Easter Surprise

As Easter, 2011 finally arrives here in this slow-starting Spring, I've been given a present in the garden to watch over.   A white sport appeared on my 'Sensation' Lilac this year amidst all the deep purple, white-edged blossoms. This year, the Equinox Gods must be rewarding my earlier offerings to the start of Spring.

I appreciate the gift, but I would feel more special about it if a quick search didn't reveal that white sports from 'Sensation' are not especially rare.  There are several pictures of these sports on the Internet, and indeed, a webpage about plant sports by Professor Janna Beckerman from Purdue University's Plant Diagnostic Lab included a white 'Sensation' sport as a common example.

'Sensation' Lilac

'Sensation', for those gardeners who aren't familiar with it, is a popular lilac in commerce and in gardens because of the unique purple and white look to the blossoms that is commonly described as a "picotee."  Picotee is derived from the word "picot," which is a series of small embroidered loops forming an ornamental edging on some ribbon and lace, and the word "picotee" actually is defined as a carnation with pale petals bordered by a darker color.  'Sensation' then, I suppose, should be more accurately described as a reverse picotee.   'Sensation' also has nice heart-shaped foliage, but it is a rather stiff bush, growing 8-10 feet tall and wide, with strong, hearty branches that tend to be a little more sparse than most lilacs. To my amusement, 'Sensation' is labeled at many online nurseries as a "new" introduction, but it is actually an old lilac, introduced in 1938 by Eveleens Maarse.  According to Jennifer Bennett in her 2002 book Lilacs for the Garden, it was a genetic mutant of lavender-colored 'Hugo de Vries' that occurred when the Maarse greenhouse in Holland was forcing lilacs for Christmas. John Fiala, in Lilacs: A Gardener's Encyclopedia, lists it in a section with lilacs of "special and unique color classifications," and describes it as "outstandingly effective and unique."  Alongside the white sports, 'Sensation' has also been known to revert to the plain purple form resembling 'Hugo de Vries'.

For the scientifically-minded, the proper term for the mutation that led to 'Sensation' is a "periclinal chimera," which is a plant composed of cells of two distinct genotypes separated into distinctive zones.  Periclinal chimeras, as opposed to the other categories of chimera (mericlinal, and sectorial chimeras), are important because the mutations are stable and can be vegetatively propagated.  Thornless blackberries are perhaps the best known result from the formation of a periclinal chimera.  In the case of my white 'Sensation' sport then, the white flower genotype tissues have separated to give me a present.

Knowing all that, however, makes my own 'Sensation' sport no less of a miracle to me.  I'm going to watch it, and if it doesn't go through an ugly brown phase as so many white lilacs do when they fade, I'm going to try to propagate it.  Maybe someday I can have a part in releasing a lilac that will be named 'Easter Sensation.'

Buck Mania

Yesterday was what I consider a very good gardening day.  To start off, we got approximately an inch of much-needed rain here in Manhattan last night.  But even better, just before the rain, I received and planted a box of bands from Heirloom, primarily composed of Griffith Buck cultivars:

For those who are used to Grade 1 potted roses, the bands that you receive from most heirloom specialty growers could be perceived as a disappointment, but let us try and remember that what we are buying is primarily the genetic material.  Bands most often come, as you can see below in small pots and are barely rooted cuttings, but the advantages of having your roses grown on their own roots, ungrafted, makes up all the difference.  As rosarians, we can make the growth happen on our own with enough patience, but we can't manufacture 'Ferdinand Pichard' out of 'Easy Does It' or 'Carefree Spirit'.  Expect for them to take a couple of years for these to make a large bush, but with a little protection, they will get there in time and they certainly have a better chance than a BigBox "bagged rose" with its paraffined canes and clipped roots.  Yuck!

In this shipment, I received a number of mostly Griffith Buck cultivars, all planted into the same bed, including 'El Catala', 'Folksinger', Iowa Belle', 'Queen Bee', and 'Bright Melody'.  I'm particularly interested in growing the latter two bright red or reddish-orange cultivars as I've never seen them in person.  I am also received a 'Wonderstripe' from the Heirloom Roses breeding program, a 'Crested Moss' to add to an OGR bed, and I'm going to give 'Ferdinand Pichard' one more chance.  I've purchased and killed that gentleman before, but I'm such a sucker for striped roses that I certainly think he deserves a second chance.  Or is it a third?  

Joy for Lajoie

Of climbing roses, I think my favorite is a diminutive little fille named 'Jeanne Lajoie'.  Those who grow it know that I'm referring to the popular miniature pink climber of perfect form that, at times, has been the highest rose rated by the ARS.  Although my aging memory is suspect, I think she at one time had an overall rating of 9.3.

I have two 'Jeanne Lajoie' specimens, a mature bush that grows on a south facing limestone wall to around 6 feet tall, and a younger specimen planted two years back that is currently at about 4 feet on one side of a copper pergola.  Both are on their own roots and doing well at this time.  Her pink double buds are a perfect pink shade for matching with other plants and they come in continuous clusters to cover her supporting trellises most of the spring and summer. The blooms are a darling miniature hybrid tea form, sufficient to win exhibiting awards, and the dark green leaves do not require spray in my Zone 5B arid climate, although I think she gets a little rose scale against my wall.  She seems to be very winter hardy in Zone 5, and I've seen no dieback at all, although I probably should admit that my south-facing limestone wall is probably more a Zone 6 microclimate.  I would classify her scent as mild, but sweet.

'Jeanne Lajoie' was a 1975 introduction from breeder E. P. Sima.  When I first posted this, in 2011, I was working from Internet and printed sources from which I wrote the following:  "There seems to be some controversy about whether she was named by Ed Sima after the daughter of one of his wife's friends, or named by the introducer, Ernest Williams of Mini Roses in Dallas Texas, for a daughter of a Texas friend (who legend says exhibited the rose as a young girl and is supposedly now a middle-aged dental hygienist), or whether she was named after a famous French prostitute named Jeanne LaJoie."  If you read the comments on this blog post, you'll see below that in 2017, the son-in-law of Dave Lajoie, who worked with Mr. Williams in hybridizing, has corrected the record and it was indeed Mr. Williams and Mr. Lajoie who named the rose after Dave's daughter.  I'll take such first hand experience as the gospel, and we can consider the matter closed.

The "LaJoie," by the way, translates from the original French to "La Joy" and is pronounced "La Jhwhaaa," but I'll stick with "La Joy" to pronounce.  Regardless of the name's origin, the rose 'Jeanne Lajoie' was a beauty pageant winner right out of the gate, winning an America Rose Society Award of Excellence in 1977.  'Jeanne Lajoie's parentage is a hybrid seeding of 'Casa Blanca' (a white climber) and 'Independence' (an orange-red floribunda) that was crossed with 'Midget' (a red miniature) but somewhere in there, there must have been some pink genes.  I understand she makes a beautiful free-forming shrub as well, but for right now, I'll keep her up against a warm wall until I see how my second specimen fairs in the free flowing air of the open trellis.

Finely Foliaged Fernleaf

A few years back, I was fortunate to have a friend who offered to trade some starts of his treasured fernleaf peony, the species peony Paeonia tenuifolia, for something in my garden.  I had seen and lusted after these peonies in several catalogues, but each time had recoiled against the listed price, often at $50 for a single start.  In contrast, my friend presented me with an enormous clump that I divided immediately and planted as three plants in my own garden and I also gave two away to others.  All three of the ones I kept are expanding and growing in my garden, now three years after planting. Thank God for the beneficence of gardeners!

The fernleaf peony is a fairly short (1-2 feet tall) herbaceous peony that is by far, the earliest peony to bloom in my garden.  It is blooming today, as seen in the picture above, at a time of year when most of my other peony varieties have not formed buds and some are just barely breaking ground.  Paeonia tenuifolia has crimson flowers (to 3" across) with yellow stamens that rise above some of the most attractive and unusual foliage in the garden.  The foliage is deeply divided and lobed into needle-like, ferny segments, hence the tenuifolia name, which means "slender leaved."  Several varieties and cultivars are on the market, from the single-form of the species that I grow, to a double form known as Paeonia tenuifolia 'Rubra Flora Plena', to a beautiful pink double form not yet commercially available.  The species and associated cultivars seem to be popular peonies in rock gardens.

Paeonia tenuifolia has been known in Europe since at least the 1500's and was described by Linnaeus in 1759.  In reading about this peony, I was interested to see that most sources describe this peony as needing extra water during the year, one source even recommending continually-wet soil, while it seems to be doing well without any extra water in my own garden.  Paeonia tenuifolia is native to the Caucasus Mountains of Russia, as well as areas north of the Black Sea and westward into Romania and Serbia, an area with cold winters and hot, dry summers, so it is actually should be no surprise that it does well here in Kansas.  A description at the Heartland Peony Society website suggested that the usual culprit in this peony's demise is too much humidity, which causes it to succumb to "fungus," so I suspect the recommendation for extra-water is a myth handed down from writer to writer, none of whom actually have attempted themselves to grow the plant in a dry garden.  As a mentor used to tell me, "If I wrote the sky is green in a book chapter, soon the whole world would be repeating that the sky is green." 

I did learn from my reading that Paeonia tenuifolia is supposed to be well-scented, and I'm ashamed to admit that I've never checked it for scent before.  However, after sniffing over my own peony last evening, I can confirm that it has a pleasant light scent, but I wouldn't consider it the assault to my nose that many herbaceous peonies seem to be.