</p> Colorado is reputed to have such a harsh climate that many trees could never grow here, like flowering dogwoods (Cornus florida) or Sweetgums (Liquidambar stracuiflua</em>). Once again, conventional wisdom is proved WRONG </em></strong> by Denver Botanic Gardens! We boast a fabulous specimen not far west of York St. in the Sensory Garden: I have admired this the last ten or fifteen years it has been growing rapidly, but only last year and this year has it finally fulfilled my expectations for fall color: right next to our only Sassafras</em>, it rivals that magnificent tree in its fiery foliage. Yes, yes...I know we had 8" of wet snow yesterday. Both Sassafras</em> and Liquidambar</em> (and most every other tree at the Gardens) came through very well. Everyone panics with our untimely snows (and we do get them every year!), but plants are resilient, and the better plants are almost immune! So keep planting better plants!</p> </p> "Boston ivy" (Parthenocissus cuspidata</em>) is not seen nearly as much as English ivy in Colorado. This Japanese cousin to Virginia Creeper is rather neater in growth form--rather resembling a deciduous English Ivy--and the fall color is often quite good. This year it has been exceptional. The Waring house positively glows!</p> </dt> Closeup of Parthenocissus cuspidata ("Boston" ivy)</dd> </dl> Every keen lover of fall color I speak to says the same thing: this has been a magnificent year for fall color. When Green Ash (Fraxinus pennsylvanica</em>), American elm (Ulmus americana</em>) and all the Lindens turn brilliant yellow and positively glow you know it is a really good fall color year. Combined with the ubiquitous scarlets of Freeman Maples (Acer freemanii</em>) and the glowing deep purple and gold of White Ash--which is also very popular--the street scene around Denver was very New England. I have a hunch that the show will continue well into November. Colorado does Indian summer with a vengeance, don't forget! With our Allan Houser sculpture exhibit, it is all the more appropriate it do so.</p>
</p> Certain plants have a certain "cachet" and Acer grandidentatum</strong></em> or bigtooth maple (with a host of other common names, usually alluding to some aspect of Utah where it is perhaps most abundant) is one of those plants. Imagine a petite Eastern sugar maple, only it tolerates alkaline soil and considerable heat and drought! That is a plant for all of us, I daresay! I heard it grew in Colorado near Mesa Verde, but several years ago a much larger colony was found by David and Pati Temple, who live south of Cortez.</p> This year I was extraordinarly lucky to be invited by David and Jeff Wagner (more about him anon!) to join them on a trek to find this new population in a place (I kid you not) called "Disappointment Valley." I hasten to tell you that this typically piquant Western place name is undoubtedly a ruse to keep the likes of you and me away. It is a splendid spot not far from the Utah line surrounded by magnificent wilderness and full of plant and animal treasure.</p> </p> </p> Here you can see one of the many picturesque buttes that form the backdrop to the valley. As far as I can tell, the substrate everywhere hereabouts is Mancos shale, a remarkably deep remnant of the Sea of Tethys from Mesozoic times. Mancos shale posses many properties: it is one of the slickest substances on earth when wet, and most remarkably it will turn people of middling height into towering giants (want to or not: I shall not tell you how long it took to clean our shoes off!). It grows plants well, as you can see.</p> Some of the maples we found were almost 40' or more tall, with trunks nearly a foot in diameter. The color was the most uniform crimson-pink I have ever seen on the species: I think this is definitely an area to explore further, and a place to get the hardiest, reddest of maples. In addition to bigtooth, there were gorgeous lemon yellow mountain maples thereabouts (Acer glabrum</em>) and even some pretty massive box elders (Acer negundo</em>). I kept looking to see if there might not be some intermediates around, but here I was truly disappointed!</p> </p> </p> A closeup of the man</em></strong>! David Temple and his wife Pati are two of Colorado's state treasures. They own an exquisite 3,000 acre ranch, much of it with conservation easements, boasting the highest, largest waterfall in the four-corner area. They have restored various ranches they own or have owned to a remarkable pristine look by their careful land management and sensitive farming practices. David grows hundreds of remarkable and often unusual trees for sale. I have some pictures of these I can share if you clamor loud enough...much of what he grows is available nowhere else. And don't get me going about their house and guest house--they are beyond lovely!</p> </p> </p> Jeff is a nurseryman who owns Four Corners Natives, a specialty wholesale nursery featuring a terrfic assortment of unusual and otherwise unobtainable native plants. He and his wife, Lisa Hollenbeck, hosted me this past weekend for an extravaganza weekend with the Durango Botanical Society. I am planning a blog about this hospitable and wonderful group that is creating an extensive Plant Select garden, a small botanical garden really, alongside the impressive Durango Library. I would be sure to put this on your bucket list of regional gardens to visit. I know you will not be disappointed!</p>
</dt> </p> Over the years visitors often say things such as "You must have everything at the Gardens!" Walking around on a beautiful autumn day like today that may seem the case. But in fact, we are missing many</strong></em> superb plants, both native and exotic. Filipendula</em> is a case in point: this genus of herbaceous Spiraea cousins includes a dozen or species widespread and abundant throughout much of the Northern Hemisphere... Filipendula</em> has been effectively AWOL from Denver Botanic Gardens for most of my tenure. Few plants are as adaptable, common in the trade and in nature. I confess that I have planted a few way back when, but I have noticed in recent years they are pretty much gone. These pictures were taken at a private garden at over 8000' near Conifer: proof that our members beat us at our game!</p> </dd> The queen of the genus is unquestionably the Queen of the Prairie (F. rubra</em>), one of the largest (it can be 8' tall when happy), showiest and most admired native plants of North America, largely confined to the Tall Grass Prairie of the Midwest. Like all the denizens of that biome, it was reduced drastically in its range when the prairies were busted for corn and soybeans. It is making a strong comeback in gardens due to its long season of midsummer bloom...if you want to see a spectacular clump like this one in Conifer, you will have to give it room, deep rich loam and lots of water. If you plant it, stand back! It spreads moderately by rhizomes to make a large, large, larger clump.</p> </p> </dd> </dl> This tiny cousin--barely a foot tall--could well be called the "Princess of the woodland," since it seems to need a tad more shade. It can be tricky to find in nurseries, even mail order!</p> </p> On the trip that Mike Bone and I took to Kazakhstan, several small, white flowered Filipendulas were everywhere in the steppe, in mountain meadows, along streams. Two were identified as F. ulmaria </em>and F. vulgaris</em>. Truth be said they look an awful lot like one another, and both resemble F. hexapetala</em>. Alas, white is not the most sought after hue (even this glowing, ivory white), although their ferny basal foliage is attractive throughout the season--especially in autumn when it can take on orange and scarlet tints.</p> These Filipendulas superficially resemble Astilbe</em>, although their flowers have a rakish, slightly tipsy look to them unlike the symmetrical spires of Astilbe</em>. Of course, filipendulas are in the rose family while Astilbes are saxifrage cousins. We collected seed of white filipendulas on the steppes of Kazakhstan which will be adorning several spots in Plantasia next year.</p> </p> You will find spectacular plantings of lupines in mountain gardens throughout the state, like these in Conifer. These are descended from wild species restricted to the Pacific Northwest, British Columbia and Alaska, so they seem to do best in cooler climates and at altitude. I have seen fine specimens nonetheless in Denver. These are a parting glimpse of that same mountain garden of two long term, enthusiastic supporters of Denver Botanic Gardens. Now perhaps if I can only persuade my colleagues to get these into our York Street and Chatfield gardens...(sigh</strong></em>)</p>
