Last week I had the great pleasure of accompanying a group of enthusiasts who study the genus Rhododendron.

On one of our treks we explored the balds of Roan Mountain that rise above 5,000 feet on the border of Tennessee and North Carolina and support a great population of Flame Azaleas (Rhododendron calendulaceum) and one of the densest stands of the Catawba Rhododendron (R. catawbiense) in North America.

The Flame Azalea is typically of an orange coloration but occasionally a yellow variant emerges that is prized by those who fancy curiosities of the plant kingdom.

One such specimen has been observed for over twenty years and is remarkable both for its clear yellow coloration and its compact, slow growing habit. Seeds have been collected and cuttings have been made to make this particular variety available to those who fancy such oddities.

The Catawba Rhododendron is one of the most spectacular of our native flowering shrubs and is much coveted not only for its magnificent display of rose-purple flowers but for its evergreen habit.

Both of these plants are found primarily in the mountains of the southern Appalachians and likely because of their relatively inaccessible habitat they were not described to the botanical world until the posthumous publication of Flora Boreali-Americana in 1803 compiled the eminent French botanist, André Michaux.

Michaux first found the Catawba Rhododendron near the headwaters of the Catawba River in the Blue Ridge Mountains of western North Carolina and named it after the river. He also proposed an expedition to the headwaters of the Missouri river to Thomas Jefferson in 1792 and may have preceded Lewis and Clark into the west but for the complications of Franco American politics and the infamous Genet affair.

And now, dear readers, as I near the end of my employment in Williamsburg I am busy with instructing my two young apprentices, Jennifer and Emily, in the art and trade of gardening. As a consequence I must limit our conversation to once a month and will, henceforth, communicate the triumphs and tribulations of the garden on the last Thursday of each month. However, please feel free to contact me at any time with your questions or observations.

I remain, Yr. most obedient and humble servant, Wesley Greene

The herbaceous border is now an exuberance of color and while most of the plants are admired solely for their appearance there are some that are beautiful and useful as well, an attribute that is much sought after by young men of a certain age who aspire to find these same qualities in a prospective mate. Two of the most striking examples of this admirable combination are the Valerian and the Foxglove.

Valerian, Valeriana officinalis, is a handsome and hardy perennial with masses of sweetly scented white flowers that has been used as a sleep aid and a treatment for nervous disorders for thousands of years as it was well known by the ancient Greek and Roman apothecaries. It is also well known that its potency is greatly influenced by its culture as Dr. Hill observes in Botanical tracts (1762): “the roots of Valerian which grow upon dry hill and sun-burnt heaths, possess its virtues in the highest degree.” A peculiarity that is recognized to this day amongst herbalists.

Foxglove, Digitalis purpurea, is a much more recent discovery. William Withering, who trained as a physician at the University of Edinburgh Medical School, had the novel idea of investigating medicinal tonics employed by home practitioners. An old herbalist from county Shropshire by the name of Mother Hutton purportedly had a cure for dropsy, known to modern physicians as atrial fibrillation, which seemed to be effective. Mother Hutton included over twenty ingredients in her potion but Withering, being of a scientific mind, tried them individually and discovered that foxglove was the active ingredient. He then conducted trials on over 100 patients, one of them a patient of Erasmus Darwin, great granduncle of the famous Charles Darwin. Darwin recorded the experiment in 1785 under An Account of the Successful Use of Foxglove in Some Dropsies and Pulmonary Consumption before the publication of Withering’s own work without his knowledge or permission in one of the first examples of scientific plagiarism in the modern world.

It has long been customary in Williamsburg to overplant our tulip beds in the fall with species of small, hardy flowering plants that will withstand the rigors of winter to bloom in the spring; first under the tulips and then, when the tulips are exhausted, to succeed them in a glorious ground cover of color.

Three of the most popular plants for this use are Johnny Jump-ups, English Daisies and Forget-me-nots.

Johnny Jump-up, Viola tricolor, is the pansy of Shakespeare and the flower mentioned in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” that the maidens call “love-in-idleness.”

It is also known as Heart’s Ease by colonial herbalists for its reputed help, when added in the salad, to that most vital of organs.

It is a creeping winter annual that Mr. Philip Miller, author of “The Gardener’s Dictionary,” observes will “scatter their Seeds, and propagate themselves in plenty, where they are permitted to stand.” Indeed, five plants this year will yield 30 the next and the following year your neighbors will have it.

What is now known as the English Daisy, Bellis perennis, was the original daisy of Chaucer and other ancient authors.

Its name derives from the Anglo-Saxon “daes eage” meaning “day’s eye” as the flowers close in the evening. They are the daisies lovelorn children use for the age old predictor of “he loves me, he loves me not.”

It is a robust perennial in the proper climate but must have a cool moist situation.

The Forget-me-not, Myosotis sylvatica, was long a little regarded weed that grew in wetlands throughout the European continent.

Its name seems to derive from a 15^th century German legend in which a knight, stooping to gather this little flower by the side of a stream, was over balanced by the weight of his armor and fell into the river crying, as the water bore him down, “forget-me-not!”

A posy of Forget-me-nots has long been used by German ladies as a sign of their fidelity.

It is generally a biennial plant that must return by seed each year that emerges in the fall for a spring time bloom.

 

 

The Silverbell trees, known to the botanists as Halesia tetraptera, are now in bloom.

This small native tree was first collected in the summer of 1755 by the eminent Scottish physician and naturalist Alexander Garden who Linnaeus has memorialized in the genus name of Gardenia. He lived for many years in the city of Charleston, S.C., but when the hostilities with Great Britain forced men to declare as patriots or loyalists he, regrettably, chose to remain loyal to that tyrant George III and his minion Lord North, and was henceforth driven from the country.

In more recent times, this lovely little tree may be a clue to the location of the long lost home of John Clayton, the most famous of 18^th-century Virginia botanists. Clayton was clerk of courts for nearby Gloucester County and kept his garden, and presumably a house, on the shore of the Piankatank River.

Clayton provided plants to Peter Collinson, a London merchant, who had the largest collection of North American plants in all of England in his garden at Mill Hill. In 1764, Collinson wrote a letter to Cadwallder Colden, then acting governor of New York, in which he remembered the many correspondents who had provided specimens for his collection.

Among his remembrances is this passage: “Those pretty Fringe Trees, Halesias and Stuartia all Great Beauties I must thank my Fr’d Mr. Clayton the Great Botanist of America.”

Several years ago my wife, Denise, a noted horticulturist and expert on native plants, was leading a group of ladies along the shore of the Piankatank River exploring the local flora when she found, within a narrow ravine, a stand of Silverbell trees. When she reported this find to me, I assured her that it must have been the similar Staphlyea she saw for the Silverbell tree is not known to grow on the coastal plain of Virginia.

Having been wed to this estimable woman for many years one would think that I would know better by now for when we returned to the ravine it was, indeed, populated with a dozen or more Silverbell trees.

Until this time, Silverbells had been recorded from only six counties in Virginia all located around Mount Rogers in the far western reaches of the state, over 300 miles away. Most intriguing, this ravine is directly below the ruins of the old clerk’s office where John Clayton conducted his business.

It is quite possible that what she found is the last remnant of John Clayton’s garden!

 

The cabbages started in the January hotbed are now ready for transplantation.

We wait only for the proper conditions for their removal or what the ancient gardeners refer to as “dripping weather.”

It is fool hardy to attempt the operation in hot or windy weather as the transplants are sure to suffer and if once allowed to wilt often never recover their former vigor.

They are removed from the frame by plunging a trowel into the soil on all four sides of the transplant, gently rocking it back and forth to form a compact root ball. Then using the trowel as a lever the plant may be prized from the bed and carried to the garden.

Place them 2 feet asunder in rows 3 feet apart.

We may then observe the wisdom recorded by Mr. Randolph in his estimable Treatise, “Three things are necessary to Cabbages as well as other vegetables, to be watered in a dry season, hilled up if they grow long shanked, and kept clear of weeds, which draw the shanked, and kept clear of weeds, which draw the nourishment from the plants and make them spindle;” sage advice indeed.

The most temperamental of the cabbage tribe, as well as the most prized, particularly in gentlemen’s gardens, is the cauliflower.

Every little inconvenience visited upon them will cause them to “button,” that is, form tiny curds to the ruination of the crop.

To prevent this malady they must be transplanted while still small, five or, at the most, six leaves being the proper stage.

They must not be allowed to wilt and precautions must be taken against a late frost which would certainly destroy them.

We have found that keeping them sheltered under bell glass for the first week or two does wonderfully expedite their progress.

If it should turn hot, place a tile or shard under the lip of the bell to vent.