JILL SEVERN'S GARDENING COLUMN 

Nominations are now open for a new shrub

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Nominations are now open for a new shrub in my backyard. So far, the nomination process is not as messy as the one playing out in our nation’s capital, but it’s still beset with indecision.

About three years ago, I thought I had planted a Nootka rose – a native species with simple pink flowers that bloom off and on through the summer. Alas, I discovered the nursery had sold an imposter, now identified as Rosa acicularis, which has needle-sharp thorns thick as hair on a dog, and blooms once a year for about three days. The imposter created more confusion by having white rather than its more typical pink flowers.

It will soon be consigned to the compost heap of history. Now the question is whether to stick with the original intention of growing a Nootka rose, or to change direction altogether.

Is it time to plant a lilac? Every garden should have a lilac, right? But it would take some searching to find an older variety of lilac, and the newer ones – the ones now common at nurseries – are reputed to have less appeal to pollinators.

Maybe an elderberry would be a good choice. They are native, graceful, and have berries birds like. There was one outside my window on Bainbridge Island, and one here would link me to woodsy Island memories. But elderberries grow tall and wide, and throw a lot of shade. Maybe too much for the perennials that will be in front of them.

Then there are Exbury azaleas, like the ones next to the Temple of Justice on the state Capitol campus. They smell like heaven in the spring; there’s nothing else on earth quite like their fragrance. But they bloom early, mostly when it’s still chilly and wet, and I won’t be in the garden to inhale one’s glory as much as it deserves.

The fragrance of Korean spice viburnum is arguably an even higher level of heaven, but it also blooms early. On a spring day I am likely to discover one close enough to the street to smell as I walk past.

These musings provided a little clarification about what the perfect candidate would be: bushy and robust but easy to prune, fragrant, good habitat value, and flowers I like – preferably flowers that bloom later rather than earlier. Berries for birds would be a point in its favor.

My next move is to walk around the neighborhood and see what other people are growing. This is the gardener’s equivalent to polling, but with a sample opinion size of one. In this case it’s me, but it could be you if you’re thinking about planting shrubs.

Walking around most neighborhoods is more instructive than strolling through a nursery. There’s a lesson, for instance, in walking past a guy sweating as he swings his gas-powered pruning saw up a laurel hedge that had been taking up two-thirds of the sidewalk. It’s so tall the house on the other side of it has completely disappeared from view. The lesson is this: Don’t plant a laurel hedge unless you plan to live where you are forever and are committed to keeping it under control. Ditto other hedges you see: take a measure of their long-term requirements.

But we were talking about shrubs, not hedges.

The lessons I plan to look for in my neighborhood poll are about plant health, growing habit, sun or shade tolerance, and general lovability. There’s a chance I’ll see candidates that are entirely new to me, and knock on doors and ask people about them.

This isn’t a great time for judging flowers or berries, but it is a good time for seeing shrubs in their everyday clothes, which is how we will see them most of the time.

As you can tell, I’m still undecided. But I’m determined to do my research, weigh the chances of success, and plant something this fall when the rains have returned. Fortunately, my timeline is much more relaxed than the Democratic Party’s.

In both cases, we have to acknowledge that there is no perfect candidate.

Jill Severn writes from her home in Olympia, where she grows vegetables, flowers, and a small flock of chickens. She loves conversation among gardeners. Start one by emailing her at  jill@theJOLTnews.com 

 

Comments

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  • joycetogden

    Jill-- Upon first moving to Olympia from upstate NY I really wanted an elderberry (east coast elderberries are PURPLE and I prefer them to blueberries in recipes). 3 blue elderberries were planted, then died (my soil not wet enough?); red elderberries are reputed to be poisonous.

    Next I tried Nootka rose; it grew to 12 feet and wouldn't stop.

    Previous owner here had a struggling purple lilac, which with more sun is happily flourishing now. Did you know that white lilacs have a "leggy" shape, which might or might not be what you prefer.

    Saturday, July 20 Report this

  • GinnyAnn

    Why not try an old-fashioned rose variety? There are some that bloom all summer with fragrance. They can get bushy and have lovely rose hips.

    Saturday, July 20 Report this

  • sunshine39

    Once again, Thank you, Jill, for sharing your thoughts.

    Interesting and helpful

    Sunday, July 21 Report this

  • ShomshorFamily

    One (or several!) of the semi-thornless cultivars of gooseberries. I haven't much luck with them, but even less luck finding them for sale. Elderberries are not only large plants but pollination usually requires 2 cultivars.

    Monday, July 22 Report this

  • KristineR

    I recently bought a Sambucus nigra for the first time, "Black Tower". It is a delight, lovely flowers that make berries. It is drought tolerant, too.

    Tuesday, July 23 Report this

  • WillStuivenga

    As a native Oregonian, I would of course, recommend Oregon Grape. It has bright yellow flowers, and then berries that birds supposedly enjoy. You might also consider "snow berry" or what my folks called "Buck's brush." It's a native plant. How about some salal? I'm afraid that elderberry (red OR blue) will eventually turn into a tree. Not really a bush. But of all the suggestions you suggested yourself, lilac would definitely be at the top of MY list. At least once a year or so, especially around President's Day, I enjoy re-reading Walt Whitman's elegy for President Lincoln, "When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd". And when they're in bloom, my wife and I, walking around the neighborhood, always stop to smell the lilacs, whenever physically possible. They have to have one of the most attractive fragrances of any flowering bush. Only roses come even close to matching the fragrance of a lilac.

    Tuesday, July 23 Report this