Native plants: Prepare to do some thinking

Ontario's native floral symbol Trillium grandiflorum – can you be sure it was responsibly propagated?

Is choosing native plants always the right thing to do for the planet? Simple answer, right? Well, after a couple of recent encounters, I'm surprised. The simple answer turns out to be more than a little complex.

When are native plants NOT the answer? was the title of the January 2011 Edwards Lecture at the Toronto Botanical Garden, and speaker Belinda Gallagher laid out the issues pretty comprehensively.

As the former head of horticulture for the Royal Botanical Gardens, Belinda oversaw the creation of a major native plant installation in 2008, the Helen M. Kippax Garden. She now runs her own horticultural consulting business Hooked on Horticulture, and co-developed the University of Guelph's new program on Sustainable Urban Horticulture and Agriculture. So she's dealt with the philosophy and practise of this topic more than most of us.

Do the many, many new cultivars of native species such as Echinacea count as natives, too?

For example: What are native plants, anyway?

With the state of the world right now, most of us want to do the right thing. "Native plant" has a motherhood ring about it. But Belinda cautions us that it isn't always easy to know what that means. Some plants have been naturalized so long in North America, it's hard to know if they pre-dated European arrival.

Besides, she asks, how long does a plant have to be here before it's native – since the last glaciation? She cited Robinia pseudoacacia or black locust, which they're now finding pre-Ice Age evidence of in our region. It didn't renaturalize quickly after the ice disappeared. But because it was reintroduced by man,  it's now labelled aggressively invasive. Is it a native?

Every plant has roots in a native plant somewhere, Gallagher reminds us. But what about nativars, or cultivars of native plants? Do they provide the same ecological role of their native parents? She stresses that the science just isn't in yet to support or dispute. Rather than jumping on the bandwagon and trusting the source, we should exercise caution, especially when planting nativars near natural stands of natives. Will cross-pollination between these hybrids and true natives cause harm?

Plant families are huge, with cousins on many continents. So, would you know whether or not this Polygonatum is our native North American Solomon's seal?

Driven by garden trends and our wish to do right, the demand for native plants has become such big business – far greater than our handful of true native plant growers can supply – that the "native" solomon's seal we buy in the nurseries might actually be an Asian or European species grown in Holland or South Africa or Ecuador. Leaving aside the question of its heritage, how long would such a plant survive in our tough Canadian climate? We should be asking questions about provenance.

When Belinda Gallagher was planting the Helen Kippax native plant garden, she estimated that as much as 60% – that's a shocking sixty percent – of the native plants were mis-labelled: from non-North American species to nativars labelled as natives.

Her lecture dovetailed neatly into a conversation I had over coffee with Sam Benvie, landscape ecologist and infectious tree guy at Ryerson and York Universities. Here's his bio from an upcoming talk March 17, 2011 at Mississauga's Applewood Garden Club: An ecological basis for residential planting design.

One of the things we discussed was the difficulty of defining that oft-used word: biodiversity. People usually think it means having a diversity of species in a certain area. Yet, Sam says we should think more deeply: 1,000 acres of typical urban landscape contains far more species than the same area of boreal forest. So, what does biodiversity mean? Even within the forest area, he notes, is there the right diversity of factors such as species gender or reproductive age? Again, not simple.

Goldenrod, or Solidago, is a native we sometimes wish we could do without. This particular ladybeetle, however, is an Asian import (you can tell by the W or M shape just behind her head).

Right plant, right place – that garden mantra was the underlying message of Belinda Gallagher's presentation. We seem to give native plants miraculous properties. But they will not grow sustainably where conditions are unsuitable – just like any other plant.

Endangered spaces don't get as much notice, but few of us in Toronto live in the conditions of the native oak savannah that once occupied our city. So what really is native to our evolved environment? Our first job is to understand our growing conditions – and select the right plant (which might well be a native plant) for the space you have.

So let's be informed consumers. A plant bearing a native label isn't a panacea. Ask questions about its origins. Stay tuned to the debates that will be unfolding about this issue. It's huge, with many grey areas. Look beyond the easy answers from those to stand to gain most from our ignorance or indifference.

Things to consider as we look at those plant catalogs.

Go with the snow. It's a good thing.

The view is clear when you can see a tree silhouetted in its underwear.

Let's let go of our moaning. Snow in January is a good friend to the Toronto gardener. First, it's precipitation; a long, cool drink for the garden. It's an insulating blanket of snow for our tender plants, especially when the temps dip below normal, as they have in January 2011. But snow also offers a distraction-free backdrop that shows what's really happening with your woody plants.

Take the young Japanese maple above, Acer palmatum 'Bloodgood'. I did, last July (the worst possible month to plant a tree, especially a fancy one like this... but it was on sale, and I had my reasons.) The best way to ensure good form on a new tree is to select it carefully at the nursery. As this was a sale item, its shape might have been less than ideal. My snapshot tells me I have some pruning to do.

I recently read a good article on pruning young trees by Don Burnett in the March 2010 issue of Gardeners Central Magazine. This newish version of Gardeners West Magazine (there are versions for prairie and east-coast gardeners, too) isn't flashy by any means, but it has good, practical gardening advice for home gardeners. Some articles, such as the one on pruning, are useful coast to coast. Others are regional. You can buy/download a back issue of the magazine through the link above. (I have no affiliation with the publisher.)

Burnett stresses the importance of establishing good structure – while the tree is young and the branches are small – to avoid problems later. We've all seen the amputated look that comes about when mature branches are pruned to correct a tree for size. It looks ugly, and the large cut opens the tree to disease.

In my tree, I can see crossing branches to fix, at least one with an undesirable kink, possible competing leaders, and a few branches that will grow into the pathway of my, well, my pathway. As it's late winter, I can take out my sharp pruners now while the tree is dormant to make gentle corrections to enhance the natural shape of my tree.

Look at your trees before they deck themselves out in those distracting leaves and flowers. If yours isn't best pruned at this time of year, tie a ribbon around the branches you think might benefit from removal, and cut them back when the time is right. You'll thank yourself for it later.

Where do creative ideas come from?

Last March in the Dominican Republic, I watched a craftsman build a palapa or tiki hut from wood and palms. I recorded the process in pictures and have wanted to share it ever since. But how is the construction of a tropical palapa relevant to a Toronto audience? Especially a wintry Toronto audience. That was my stumbling block.

Till now. The other day, on Inhabitat.com, I read this story about how volunteers turned 7,000 plastic pop bottles into a shingled roof. Guess what? It looks just like my palapa.



That's the soul of creativity: making a new connection between two previously unconnected ideas.

So think about it. Where can you see new relationships between things? What 1 + 1 can you put together to invent something new? Get out your pop bottles.

Blooms Day, January 2011 in Toronto

Hip-hip-hip hooray for Hippeastrum (aka Amaryllis) 'Evergreen'

Other than snow flowers decking the branches, there's not much blooming outdoors this Garden Bloggers Bloom Day in our frosty neck of the woods.

Indoors, the leaves of the over-wintering pelargoniums are hanging in, and the pale greeny-white blooms of Sarah's new Amaryllis/Hippeastrum 'Evergreen' make a fabulous picture in her orange kitchen.

We northern gardeners are actually lucky to have this grow-nothing time each winter. It's a fallow period for the mind.

This became clear to me as I reorganized my bookshelves recently, and came across a little book by ad-man James Webb Young, an essay on the process of creative thinking called A Technique for Producing Ideas. You can read a review and précis of his essay with all the steps at CreativeThinkingWith.com here.

Here's the high-level version of Young's process: After gathering all the information you can on the problem you're trying to solve and giving yourself time to digest it, the most surprising – and perhaps most important – step is to stop thinking. Go away. Do something else. Let your unconscious do the work.

Winter imposes that step on us. It's a time to read and research, put on our thinking caps and mull things over... but also a time for letting our unconscious do the garden work. So those Eureka! moments arrive with the fine weather.

I know I have some serious figuring out to do. As usual, my eyes are bigger than my garden. What do you think? Can my unconscious imagine me a few more acres of land?

To see what other gardeners are up to this Garden Bloggers Bloom Day, skip on over to May Dreams Gardens, where blogger extraordinaire Carol hosts a bloomin' show and tell every 15th of every month.

I'm letting my unconscious play with a stack of seed catalogues and seed packets.

Worth Repeating: Top 10 reasons to join your local hort society

We published this in its original form back in April 2009. But with January starting the season for many garden societies, it's worth saying again:

Ten reasons why it simply makes sense for any gardener (or would-be gardener) to belong to a local garden society:

1. Inside dirt on what will work in your garden. Your local garden society isn't only for experts. But they are there, and they like to share: well-informed, experienced, generous gardeners who happen to live near you. They've conquered the garden problems you're grappling with now. Knowing what works (and what won't) can save you time, money and a lotta dead plants.

2. Plants, plants, plants. In April and May, many garden societies organize their own plant sales – to fund the good works they do. While prices might not be cheaper than in stores, the selection is usually better, with interesting, hard-to-find varieties (as well as the common garden sort). Members also contribute things from their own gardens at good prices.

Plus, when you shop at a society garden sale, there are lots of cognoscenti around to help you decide. You won't always find that in a garden centre. Don't forget, you can often get a little snip of something from your new friends' gardens at other times, too.

3. Garden voyeurism. Those who like to peep over the garden fence get plenty of eye candy at society garden tours, usually in June. There are tours all over the city. Members get discounts and advance ticket sales. Some do sell out early. Your society might also organize members' tours to gardens, inside the city and out, that you otherwise might not see. These are great value.

4. Ribbons! I became addicted to ribbons as a former long-term member of the Beach Garden Society (BGS) [I'm now a member of the East York Garden Club]. Monthly meetings are paired with a horticultural and flower show, from March to September. Got a healthy asparagus fern you nursed through the winter? Or a just-opened tulip? Bring it in, fill out a card and put it in the show. Who knows? You might go home with a ribbon.

5. And while we're on the subject: Creative juices. I discovered flower arranging – something I never imagined, and was a regular at BGS flower shows. Members who were talented floral designers willingly gave workshops to us rank beginners. It's a kick to see your creation, and learn from your mistakes and others' creativity. And did I mention the ribbons?

Everything in life should come with ribbons. (Great job cleaning the kitchen -- definitely an Honorable Mention. Wouldn't that be nice?)

6. Bulk bonanzas. The society might band together to get group discounts on things like bulb orders. Again, great, unusual varieties along with better prices. Now, if they would only come and plant them for me, all would be perfect.

7. Winter garden therapy. When things look their bleakest outdoors, in November or February, it's a treat to get together on one night a month to think green, leafy thoughts. [I should add: A speaker, often with an inspiring visual presentation, every month grows your garden knowledge and feeds your garden optimism.]

8. Garden porn. The BGS had a great gardening library to share, and I suspect this is a feature of many societies. A wide selection of glossy garden books, just waiting for you to sign them out.

9. Getting to the hort of the matter. Hort, of course, means horticultural. But saying "hort society" in that casual, off-hand manner makes you one of the club.

10. Community. That's a good thing to have in a big, anonymous city like Toronto. The people you meet at a garden society come from all kinds of backgrounds and have all kinds of other interests. They just happen to like gardening... as you do. Sharing is good.

All this for a measly twenty bucks or so for a one-year membership. That's exceptionally good value.

Check the hort society links in the right column of our blog. Or try the Ontario Horticultural Association link if you can't find the link you want. Drop by a meeting, it's typically free for first-timers, and discover some reasons for yourself.

There is also an array of regional plant societies for specific passions, from hostas to water gardens. You'll find some links on the blog. And don't forget the Toronto Botanical Garden (the Garden Centre formerly known as Civic) offers deals for members, too.