dead or alive?

A few years ago some well-known horticulturists visited the garden and, looking at an obviously dead plant, tried to say encouraging things about it. Like, it was dead but it might come back. When plants die, they don’t magically come back. They’re dead, and doing things like continuing to water them, even with your tears, or fertilizing them, will have no effect on them.

Aside from the prospect of having undead plants rising from the garden at midnight, which does have a certain ring to it, the truth is that no one in the world knows more about dead plants than I do. I offer an example to prove it.

This is dead. Completely, totally, utterly dead. It might look alive, but it isn’t.

dead

It’s so dead that the chances of it ever coming back are zero.

One way to tell that it’s dead (I mean, other than the fact that it’s in my garden, and that it’s dead) is to bend the little twigs. If they’re dry and snap right off, that’s a sign that the plant is dead.

Another way is to compare it with another of the same plant, purchased at the same time.

alive

Side by side, the differences are more obvious.

dead (left), alive (right)

This was a very nice extra-blue form of Juniperus monosperma that I picked up for a song at a nursery-closing sale. I planted the live one in the place in which it’s growing now, and the dead one, which was alive when I planted it, of course, in another place. Then I moved it. That place didn’t seem right so I moved it again. It was going to get too big in that spot, so I moved it again. It died almost at once.

And is still dead.

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inertia

All this week I was planning to go to the fall plant sale at Denver Botanic Gardens today, but I stayed home instead. I had a sudden revelation that I have no self-control at all when confronted with plants for sale, and might have come home with a dozen trees. Missing a plant sale was slightly traumatic, but I got over it when some bulbs came in the mail.

Here are three corms of Crocus jessoppiae.

note the “curiously coarse parallel fibres of the corm tunic” (Bowles)….the one on the far right has lost part of its tunic, but that won’t hurt it.

Bowles wrote “C. Jessoppiae is a name I have attached provisionally to a remarkable though small species that appeared among some seedlings and off-sets I gave to my neighbor Miss Jessopp.

The flowers are somewhat similar to those of C. pestalozzae , but are larger with stronger blue markings at the base of the outer segments.”

I’ve grown Crocus pestalozzae, and it’s so tiny that it may still be in the garden, and I haven’t noticed it. So “larger” isn’t saying much at all.

Speaking of tiny things, I also came across Leucojum (or Acis) autumnale in flower today. I was beginning to wonder where it had gone. I always blame rodents for the sudden disappearance of bulbs, but my trowel has done in more than its share of them, too.

I know this is out of focus….

I planted a few bulbs; came across some tiny leaves emerging from the soil, and for once didn’t dig up the tuber by mistake.

new leaves on Cyclamen graecum

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