The Bulb Maven

Calochortus

There are many Calochortus species in bloom now in the greenhouses.  The Calochortus season starts with Calochortus uniflorus, blooming as early as February, and now in seed.  By May, however, the later blooming species are opening their buds.  These are usually species from higher elevation, and some are not easy to grow.  I was very happy to see buds on Calochortus nuttallii this year, a species that I have struggled to grow.  it comes from the Great Basin, a region with blistering hot summers, bitterly cold winters and very little rainfall.  In our cool, damp climate, these are conditions that are impossible to reproduce, but I have been successful in getting some to maturity.  It is seen here to the right.

Calochortus bruneaunis is similar to C. nuttallii, coming from Idaho, Montana and Nevada.  It, too, grows in desert scrub. Here it is to the left.

Calochortus gunnisoni (ro the right) comes from the Rocky Mountains.  There are pink flowered forms and white flowered forms, both with a beautiful ring of golden hairs in the center.

Calochortus leichtlinii (to the left) is from the Sierra Nevada mountains, where it grows at fairly high elevation.  The pollen, as you can see from the picture, is deep purple.

Calochortus macrocarpus is a very widespread species, from southern British Columbia through Idaho, Nevada, Oregon and even into the far reaches of northeastern California.  It grows mostly is desert conditions. 

Calochortus greenei (to the right) is from the Oregon/California border.  While on my travels last year, I visited a region where it is reputed to grow, but found no trace.  Apparently, like many Calochortus, it can remain dormant for several years, so it may very well be there but taking a break.

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The Morning Walkabout

Each morning my day begins with a walk around the garden.  As soon as there is enough light, I take a plastic bag and pick slugs and snails, having found this as effective as using snail bait.  I do use some bait, but I get a rather sinister delight in my daily bag.  I know I should feel pleased when I don't find many, but somehow I am more thrilled when I get a good bag full. 

I have few bulbs in the garden, since gophers are a terrible problem here, plus my land floods in winter, so they either get eaten or rot.  I do have some clumps of Dierama, the lovely South African hairbell, though.  They are mostly hybrids bought from nurseries, since I don't sell Dierama at present.  I used to, but they dislike disturbance and have to be sold in pots, and I don't have enough room at the moment.  Here is the lovely white one.

It is hard to tear myself away from the garden this time of year, but I must, since we are starting to harvest the bulbs, Oxalis being the first on the list, followed by some other South Africans, with the California natives being the last.  Harvesting goes on well into July, and it is a very dusty, dirty and messy job.  I have two young helpers, both pretty as spring flowers themselves, and eager workers.

After the daily slugfest I inspect the greenhouses, and was thrilled to find a bud appearing on my fourteen year old Boophone haemanthoides.  I have waited so long for this!!  I am so excited that I couldn't wait to post a picture of it in bloom, and simply had to show you the bud, with my hand to demonstrate the size.  Fourteen years is a long time, and you certainly need patience to be a bulb grower.  Some Brunsvigias take even longer.  I have Crossyne and Brunsvigia bulbs that are almost as old as this and I am still waiting.

Chlorogalum pomeridianum might not be as exciting as Boophone haemanthoides, but I like this bulb very much, and feel it is vastly underappreciated.  It grows in the foothills of the mountains in California, and opens its starry white flowers in the evening, staying open until dawn.  When I lived in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains, I would drive home from work at dusk in early summer, and see their beautiful plumes glowing in the half light under the scattered blue oaks.  The landscape at dusk looks like an etching, the golden hills turning to silver with the canopies of the oaks a lacy black, and if there was a moon the six foot tall plumes of Chlorogalum seemed phosphorescent.  The one shown here, C. pomeridianum v. minus, is much shorter at about 24 inches. I have found it difficult to photograph, and have finally got a decent picture, but I will never have a picture like the one in my memory of acres of them glowing in the moonlight.  This is a bulb that is used by Native Americans to make beautiful little brushes, and you can read more of this under Native American Uses of Bulbs.

I am still pollinating the California native bulbs, and it looks good this year for seed.  The later flowering Calochortus are opening their buds now, so here to end this post is a picture of Calochortus gunnisoni.

 

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Calochortus longebarbatus

Here is another lovely Calochortus, Calochortus longebarbatus, from the eastern parts of Washington and Oregon.  There is a subspecies called C. longebarbatus v. peckii, which is supposed to make hundreds of offsets.  I wish it would!  I have had it in my possession for some years, but it doesn't offset any more than the others.  I have neither available at the moment, but hope to have some in the future.

 

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Calochortus

I have posted before on Calochortus, and those postings can be seen under 'Native Bulbs'.  There are many in bloom now, some that have never bloomed for me before, and I was thrilled this morning to see the lovely Calochortus eurycarpus in full bloom.  I have only one solitary bulb, but since Calochortus species obligingly accept their own pollen, I do have a chance of getting some seed.  My one bulb holds three beautiful flowers, the long stem branching at the top.  This species if from eastern Oregon, Washington and Idaho.

Another new one (for me) is Calochortus dunnii, seen to the right.  This rare species is from southern California, and holds many flowers on widely branched stems.

Calochortus palmeri v. munzii is also in bloom, seen here to the left.  Compare it to C. palmeri v. palmeri, to the right.

Many others are also in bloom, most of which have bloomed before.  Calochortus plummerae with its satiny petals and golden hairs is seen to the left.  Calochortus clavatus v. avius is seen to the right.  

Calochortus striatus blooms very reliably for me.  It grows in the harshest conditions, in soil that is extremely alkaline, but it clearly does not need this, and does well in my standard mix.  There is a great deal of variation in the color and amount of striation of the petals, so here are several pictures.     

 

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California Lilies

Bulbs from the western United States are the last to go dormant here at Telos.  The lovely Brodiaeas are still in bloom, and the few lilies that I grow are at their peak.  I had been put off growing lilies, since they have a reputation of being difficult and 'prone to virus'.  Well, I think the 'prone to virus' reputation has come about from commercial strains of hybrid lilies which must be propagated vegetatively.  Many bulbs in commerce that are by necessity propagated vegetatively are virus infested, since before tissue culture there was no way to eliminate virus once it had infected the plant.  I believe great efforts are being made to clean up virus in commercial stocks of lilies.

The blessing of growing bulbs from seed is that they are virus-free, and unless they are exposed to other plants nearby with virus, they will stay healthy.  I finally took the plunge and started with the easy Lilium pardalinum, often known as 'Tiger Lily' although, being spotted, it should be 'Leopard Lily'.  this is a delightful addition to a shady garden, and is one of the easier ones I grow.  Here it is to the left.

The beautiful yellow Lilium parryi (seen above to the right) is from the mountains of southern California where it grows in wet areas.  It is as showy as any hybrid lily, and has a heavenly scent.  This is another native lily that is not hard to grow.

Lilium rubescens is from the mountains of northern California where it grows in dry conditions, making it one of the more difficult native lilies to grown.  It, too, is scented, and is much more attractive than my miserable picture.

Lilium pitkinense is an endangered species from a very restricted area in northern California.  My single bulb came as a gift, and is seen here to the right.

Another orange flowered lily that grows locally is L. columbianum from the redwood forests.  It grows on steep banks under redwood trees where it lines the highways in summer.  Here it is to the left.  With good drainage, and fairly cool conditions, this is a fairly easy lily.

I am growing several other native lilies such as  L. washingtonianum and L. kelloggii, but haven't brought them to bloom yet.  These two are very challenging to grown, and I would not recommend them for amateurs.  L. kelloggi grows literally a few miles from my nursery, but grows in a very restricted area, and presumably is very picky about its growing conditions.

The lilies from dry regions are grown here at Telos in greenhouses to protect them from excessive rain in winter, but I can grow the other lilies outside where the main dangers to survival are slugs and deer.  They need good drainage and light shade.

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The Morning Walkabout

Although the solstice has passed, and officially it is now summer, I would hesitate to describe it as such here in the northernmost part of California.  We have had almost no spring, with rain until early June and much cold windy weather when it wasn't raining (in this 'Mediterranean' climate it usually stops raining in April).

This has confused my bulbs, and, even more so, confused the wildflowers, with many species being at least six weeks behind in blooming.  The extra rain is needed after at least three years of reduced rainfall, but the grey weather, after a long cold winter, has made me feel cheated and worried that we will go right into winter feeling as though summer never happened.

Returning home from a dog trial in Oregon this week, I found Lycoris chinensis in full bloom, about four months ahead of schedule.  Well, I am not complaining!  It is hard enough to get Lycoris to bloom in containers, and this lovely bloom was very welcome.  I am growing some of my Lycoris in very large containers, in the hope of encouraging them to bloom.  I am not sure why they don't bloom in pots, there are so many variables; root room, soil temperature, soil mosture, microorganisms, etc.  Growing anything in a container is subjecting a plant to a very abnormal environment, with extreme swings in moisture, nutrient availability and temperature.  I am surprised they tolerate it at all.

There are new additions to the nursery.  A month ago I made my regular visit to an Indian reservation where I have friends.  A stray cat had shown up and had a litter under the house of one of my friends.  The kittens were about two months old, and my friend said she didn't want to take them to the animal shelter since they would surely be killed.  My adult cats died over a year ago, and I certainly need cats here to keep the mice in check, but my dogs are cat killers, so I had hesitated to take the step.   Well, here they are, two little girls I named Mamie and Lucy after Indian friends.  Mamie is the grey and white one, Lucy the black and white one. 

I had a friend many years ago who told me that every time she got depressed she got a new kitten, being a sure cure for the blues (she had five cats).  Well, it's lot better than taking pills, and I can vouch for their mood elevating properties, since they never stop playing, and curl in my lap purring and gazing at me with adoration (at least, that is how I choose to interpret it).    I haven't had a kitten for about thirty years, since my previous cats lived to very ripe old ages and the two that died a year ago came to me as adults (from another reservation).  So now we are in the very slow process of introducing the dogs to the cats, under close supervision.  It is going well, but the danger will be when they are loose outside and the cats run, triggering my dogs' rat hunting instincts.  At that point they are just prey as far as my dogs are concerned, so we are putting up hog wire fencing that will allow the cats through but will prevent the dogs from following.

Bulb harvesting is in full swing.  Most of the South African bulbs have been lifted, but the native bulbs are still ripening seed, with a few still in bloom.  The late blooming Calochortus are the last to be harvested, as are the Brodiaeas.  Here are the lovely Calochortus gunnisoni (left) and Calochortus macrocarpus (right) still in full bloom.

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Growing California Native Bulbs

The vast majority of bulbs that are native to the western United States come from a Mediterranean climate, where winters are cool and wet, but with only occasional severe frosts, and summers are completely dry.  Other such climates are (obviously) the countries that surround the Mediterranean, the west coast of Chile, western Australia and the western portion of the Cape Province of South Africa. 

Bulbs from all these regions exhibit the same growth patterns.  As the winter rains commence in autumn they come into growth, producing leaves that persist throughout the winter, then blooming in late winter through spring, going dormant in the warm, dry summers, such as the lovely Triteleia hendersonii seen here to the left.  When you grow these species from seed, you must sow the seed in autumn.  Such seed requires cool temperatures to germinate, something that seems to surprise most people, familiar with growing tomatoes or annuals for their gardens.  But seeds know what they are doing, they have built-in mechanisms that tell them when they should germinate, and if they sprouted in the warming temperatures of spring, the rains in these regions would soon stop and that would be the end of it for them.

There are, of course, exceptions to these generalizations, for all these regions have mountain ranges where the climate is different.  Alpine bulbs from Mediterranean climates come into growth as the snow melts in spring.  They grow extremely rapidly, and will bloom and set seed by midsummer, then go dormant in late summer, dropping their seeds to lie under the snow and germinate in early spring.

I only grow a few of the alpine species, for these really need a long cold period to do well, and I can't provide these conditions.  I have been successful with a few, such as Calochortus gunnisoni (seen here to the left), but it is unusual, and I can't fuss with them enough to be successful.

Here are the main requirements of most California native bulbs:

** They need a cool, wet winter with little frost.  They can withstand a few degrees of frost, but not freezing of the bulb itself.  The soil should be well-drained.  Bulbs need to be planted by November, since they will naturally start to sprout at the time the rains would normally commence in the region they come from (October to November in California).

** Most species do better if they are planted fairly deep for their size.  Most are fairly small bulbs, 1.5-2cm in diameter, but they should be planted about 5-7cm deep.  Even 10cm is not too deep.

** They must be kept TOTALLY dry in summer, or they will rot.  The alpine species can take some summer water if temperatures are cool and the soil is extremely well drained.

** They are only suitable for gardens if these requirements can be met.  They can be grown in gardens that have summer rainfall if they are lifted and kept in dry storage for the summer as soon as they go dormant.  All species are very successful in containers, which can be stored in a warm, dry place during the summer.

** Rodents love these bulbs, so they must be protected from gophers and mice.

California native bulbs are well worth growing, and worth any trouble to keep them in your garden.  They range from the lovely starry flowers of Brodiaea, Triteleia and Dichelostemma, to the true lilies and the lily relatives, such as Fritillaria and Erythronium and the enchanting genus Calochortus.  The lovely Lewisia rediviva is seen here to the right, a sort of honorary bulb, for it is certainly not a bulb but behaves like one, going dormant in the hot dry summers of the west.

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The Morning Walkabout

We (the dogs and I) have been away a great deal for the past three weeks at two dog trials, with more coming up.  Here we are on the beautiful Smith River on our way home from Oregon.

Coming home, my first task is to catch up on e-mail and orders, then take care of the bulbs.  I am having a difficult time tearing myself away from my garden these days, since I am trying to renovate parts of my front yard and it is all starting to look the way I would like it.  I had, mistakenly, planted an escallonia hedge along the front of my yard, wanting privacy from the road and wind protection.  My house faces west, and you can almost see the ocean from the upstairs of my house.  You can actually see it during storms when waves can reach 18ft high, and the surf line is visible across the flat fields.  My property is about a mile and a half from the Pacific Ocean with nothing to break the force of the wind, so the hedge seemed a good idea.  It wasn't.  I bought what was supposed to be a dwarf form of escallonia, but in eighteen months they had grown from six inches to seven feet, with no sign of stopping.  With one very large and very long hedge to trim already, and with the escallonias suckering into my small flower borders, I decided they had to go, so I have been slowly digging them out.  It is no easy task, but I have half of them removed, and I am replacing them with a loose mixture of better behaved shrubs.

With most of the catch up work behind me, I can now take my customary strolls around the nursery.  The beautiful Arum creticum is in full bloom.   It has a faint sweetish scent, unlike most Arums, although I do have a clone that I grew from seed that is most definitely not sweetly scented.  Nearby are pots of the hybrid Erythronium 'Pagoda', seen here to the left, and I am thinking that if I can solve the gopher problem I must definitely plant these two in my garden.  They look beautiful together, need similar conditions, and bloom at the same time.  Arums don't seem bothered by slugs, snails or deer, so possibly they wouldn't taste good to gophers, but I am sure they would love the Erythroniums.  Another lovely little Erythronium in bloom now is E. howellii, seen here below. 

Zephyra elegans, seen here to the right, is from Chile, where it grows in very dry conditions.   The usual color is blue, but I have a white flowered one grown from seed.  It has taken five years or more to bloom, and has been difficult to keep happy, so I doubt I will ever be able to offer it on the web site. 

Also from Chile are the Leucocorynes, all in bloom now.  I have posted previously on this genus, but here is the beautiful L. macropetalum.  

I have a small collection of native Alliums, and I am becoming more fond of them as time goes on.  I only grow a few in sufficient quantities to list on the web site, but I do have others that are just for my own enjoyment.  Here is Allium yosemitense, in bloom for me for the first time.   

Yesterday, in my Mediterranean greenhouse, I was amazed to find a small swarm of butterflies.  I am not sure if they hatched in there or all flew in through the opened door.  When I moved to this property I was rather dismayed to find that bees and butterflies were scarce here, but since I have planted my garden this has changed considerably.  Before, there was little here for shelter or nourishment.  I felt pretty certain that my greenhouse wasn't a good environment for a butterfly to prosper, so I spent a large part of the morning capturing them and releasing them outside.

Spring is well established.  The swallows are back, and are swirling around the barn.  The first ones back were the tree swallows, with small flocks arriving a good month ago.  Soon after the barn swallows followed, and they are already investigating nesting places on the house and barn.  I am astonished when people tell me that I should knock their nests down because the 'make a mess'.  Not as bad a mess as we humans, I say.  The geese have mostly departed, with a few stragglers still here, although as I write this I am conscious that I can't hear them, so maybe they have gone too.

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The Morning Walkabout

I have posted previously on the California Fritillarias, and a few are already blooming.  The lovely little Fritillaria purdyi (seen here) is in bloom, with waxy flowers like Tiffany lamp shades.  This is a small plant, only about three inches tall, but the flowers are a good one inch in diameter.  They are the kind of flower that needs close inspection to appreciate their intricacy.  F. striata has been in bloom for about a month.  This is one of the truly outstanding western Fritillarias.  Not only are the flowers beautiful, but they are very strongly scented.   I have a bulb with pink flowers (very unusual), but the other one in bloom at this time is the more usual white, striped with purple inside.  Here it is to the right.  F. striata is from the Greenhorn mountains of southern California.

More of the South African Gladioli are in bloom now.  Seen here to the left is G. maculatus.  I keep meaning to go out at night to check to see if it is night-scented like others that are brown or brownish.  It has a faint rather peculiar scent in daytime.  G. carinatus is in bloom, with green and purple flowers that have a sweet scent.  Here it is to the right. 

The yellow Veltheimia breacteata  always bloom before the more common pink ones.  They are in full bloom now, and the large brush-like flowers of Scadoxus puniceus 'magnificus' are also starting to show.

Now is the time for my favorite Oxalis species -- Oxalis obtusa.  The color range of this species is incredible, with the added beauty of delicate veining, often in a contrasting color, and an intense eye ring.  I have so many different color forms of O. obtusa that I do get occasional seedlings.  Now, I really don't want Oxalis seeding itself around my greenhouse, but with O. obtusa I have found three beautiful seedlings quite different from the colors I already have, so I don't mind finding a few plants here and there.  Below are three, from left to right; O. obtusa 'Blush';   O. obtusa 'Peaches & Cream' and O. obtusa 'Elizabeth'.  

  

I should explain a little about the South African oxalis and seed.  It is unusual to get seed from these species, since the same species of Oxalis exhibit a condition known as heterostyly, where the stamens and stigma have varying lengths, producing incompatibilty between plants that have differing structure.  So you can have several genetically different Oxalis obtusa, but they won't cross pollinate to produce seed unless the stigma/stamen ratio is compatible.  This prevents self-pollination and encourages outcrossing. I have a lot of O. obtusa clones, so I clearly have some that are compatible.  And that's all right with me, since I don't get massive amounts of seeding, and I get some lovely surprises like the ones above.

This is just the beginning of the O. obtusa season.  They will peak in February, and be over by the end of March.  Let's hope for some new surprises.

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Crocus

Most of California has such mild winters that Crocus are not that successful here, since many species come from the mountainous regions of the Mediterranean countries where they experience freezing temperatures in winter.  Bulbs that come from cold winter regions generally need that winter chill, and don't do well where there is little frost, as in coastal California.  You can buy the beautiful large-flowered hybrids from your garden center, and they may survive for a winter or two, but often die out after blooming once. 

The exceptions to this very broad generalization are the autumn blooming species, but these are not often seen in garden centers.  They are very well suited to California gardens.  I have only a few in my collection, not because I am not interested, but I have neither the space nor the time to grow all the bulbs I would like.  One of my favorites, seen here to the left, is C. pulchellus, from Turkey and Bulgaria, where it grows in damp forests.  Crocus goulimyi, seen below and to the right, from Greece, is a lovely Crocus that is often available from specialists.  Another beautiful autumn blooming species is C. kotschyanus, below and to the left.    It is also from Turkey, Syria and Lebanon.   Although all these species are from dry summer regions, they can tolerate some summer water if drainage is good.  There are many other species, and writing this post reminds me that I should try to squeeze a few more in.  I haven't tried them in the garden, since I am plagued with gophers, but just recently I am experimenting with planters scattered in the perennial beds where I can grow bulbs safe from predation.  Fortunately, with few trees in this windswept valley, we don't have squirrels, the bane of crocus lovers.

We are, of course, past the time of bloom for the autumn species.  I have been experimenting with other spring-blooming species to see which ones will do well in this mild climate.  The species from the Mediterranean islands, predictably, have done well, since they do not experience a very cold winter in their homeland.  C. minimus is a delightful one from Sardinia and Corsica.  It is seen here to the right.  Another species from Corsica is C. corsicus, and is stunningly beautiful with large deep lavender flowers that are strongly scented.  One wonders if the first Napoleon appreciated these lovely flowers.  Here it is to the left.  Crocus sieberi 'Bowles White' is from Crete, and is also doing very well, with very large pristine white flowers and egg-yolk centers.  Here it is.  

I am also growing some other spring-flowering species that are doing well, in spite of the fact that they come from regions that have snowy winters, although others that I have tried have rapidly disappeared.  One vigorous species from Turkey is C. ancyrensis (also known as C. susianus) with brilliant yellow flowers produced in abundance.  It is seen here below.   

Crocus tommasinianus is very well known, and comes in a range of color forms, all more or less purple, but still distinctly different from each other.  It comes from Croatia, Serbia and Bosnia, where it experiences cold winters, but it does well here.  It is the classic crocus to grow in lawns where it will seed itself and scatter beautiful purple and lavender stars throughout the grass.   Here, below, is the pinkish form called C. t. roseus , and to the left is C. t. pictus.

These are only a very few species, for to talk in depth about Crocus would require a PhD-like thesis, but for those who wish to delve more into this wonderful genus I would recommend the web site: http://www.thealpinehouse.fsnet.co.uk/crocus%20pages/.  You can happily browse through all the species and look at their wonderful photographs.

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