Linnaeus Day: Viburnum lantana 'Mohican'

This post is a part of my Linnaeus Day series, where I learn more about the history of plant growing in my own garden. I invite other bloggers to do similar posts and link to them in the comments below.

Years ago, my good friend Laura Hayden (who blogs over at Durable Gardening) let me in on a little horticultural secret. When you come upon a woody shrub that you can't identify, it behooves you to guess Viburnum. Despite the apparent breadth of this genus implied by Laura's advice, until recently I knew very little about Viburnum and grew none in my own garden. I cannot think of a better genus for my inaugural Linnaeus Day post. As Michael Dirr shares in his work on the genus[10], Linnaeus himself classified Viburnum in Species Plantarum (1753).

More specifically, I have chosen to share the history of Viburnum lantana 'Mohican', a shrub that I added to my driveway border in the fall of 2010. I hadn't heard of 'Mohican' before finding it on the clearance table of a local garden center that was going out of business. I needed shrubs to fill in the new border, and I was attracted to the upright habit and striking near-white bark of 'Mohican'.

'Mohican' was introduced by Don Egolf of the National Arboretum in 1966. While there is an unexplainable dearth of information about Egolf's biography available online, he is known for his many plant introductions through the Arboretum up until his death in a 1990 car accident.[9]

Egolf selected 'Mohican' from among 87 seedlings grown at the Aboretum from a Polish seed source. It's interesting to note that the seedling first flowered in 1956, but wasn't introduced until 10 years later.[5] Nearly a half-century since its introduction into the nursery trade, Dirr still refers to 'Mohican' as "superior to the run of the mill Viburnum lantana."[2] Another Viburnum in my garden, V. x rhytidophylloides 'Allegheny', is the result of an Egolf cross between the 'Mohican' seedlings and V. rhytidophyllym.[10]

Viburnum lantana is also known as the wayfaring tree. V. lantana is commonly found along roadsides and hedge rows in its native Europe[4], and would have been a common sight for travelers on foot (wayfarers). At least one source credits 16th century botanist John Gerard for coining this name[6], while others claim the exact origin of the name is unknown[7]. In her 1837 work The Spirit of the Woods, Rebecca Hay celebrates this common name of V. lantana[8].

"Way-faring tree! what ancient claim
Hast thou to that right pleasant name?
Was it that some faint pilgrim came
Unhopedly to thee,
In the brown desert's weary way
'Mid toil and thirst's consuming sway,
And there as 'neath they shade he lay,
Bless'd the way-faring tree?
Or is it that thou lov'st to show
They coronals of fragrant snow,
like life's spontaneous joys that flow
In paths by thousands beat?
Whate'er it be, I love it well;
A name, methinks, that surely fell
From poet, in some evening dell
Wandering with fancies sweet."

When I began my research into 'Mohican', I didn't anticipate I'd find anything in its history that would sour my opinion of the plant. But one of the first resources I found was a US Forest Service bulletin that named V. lantana as the "Weed of the Week."[3] Its fruit is both a favorite of birds and quite virile. Many states, including here in Illinois, have declared V. lantana an invasive species.

Its unclear whether 'Mohican' has the same tendency to spread as the species. I certainly won't know next year, because in an absentminded fit of overaggressive deadheading, I cut all the dead flowers off my 'Mohican' thus decapitating its ability to produce fruit for the year.

Like most of the plants in our garden, 'Mohican' currently rests in winter dormancy, unchanged in its appearance. But as I walk by it to get in my car each morning, I'll see it in a new light -- the light of its storied history.

Sources: 
(1) Dirr, Michael. Manual of Woody Landscape Plants: Their Identification, Ornamental Characteristics, Culture, Propagation and Uses. Champaign, IL: Stipes Pub., 1998. Print. 
(2) Dirr, Michael. Dirr's Encyclopedia of Trees and Shrubs. Portland, Or.: Timber, 2011. Print.
(3) "Weed of the Week: Wayfaring Tree." Forest Health Protection. U.S. Forest Service. Web. 2012. <http://na.fs.fed.us/fhp/invasive_plants/weeds/wayfaring-tree.pdf>.
(4) "Viburnum Lantana." Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Web. 22 Jan. 2012. <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Viburnum_lantana>.
(5) "Viburnum Lantana 'Mohican'" Arboretum Plant Introductions and Releases. United States National Arboretum, Nov. 1999. Web. 22 Jan. 2012. <http://www.usna.usda.gov/Newintro/mohican.pdf>
(6) "Wayfaring-tree." Science and Plants for Schools. Cambridge University Botanic Garden. Web. 22 Jan. 2012. <http://www-saps.plantsci.cam.ac.uk/trees/wayfaring.htm>. 
(7) "The Woodland Trust | Tree Guide | Wayfaring Tree." The Woodland Trust | British Trees. Web. 22 Jan. 2012. <http://www.british-trees.com/treeguide/viburnums/nbnsys0000004326>.
(8) Hey, Rebecca. The Spirit of the Woods. Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown, Green, & Longman, 1837. Accessed January 22, 2012 at http://books.google.com/books?id=7k1HAAAAYAAJ&pg=RA1-PA246&dq=The+Guelder+rose+what+ancient+claim&hl=en&sa=X&ei=ZiIcT8q6EIvUgQfbus3bCw&ved=0CDIQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&q=The%20Guelder%20rose%20what%20ancient%20claim&f=false  
(9) "A Viburnum Garden." Gardening in the Ozarks. Web. 22 Jan. 2012. <http://www.ozarksgardens.com/news/0/0/ZXHvd/a-viburnum-garden.html>.
(10) Dirr, Michael. Viburnums. Portland, OR: Timber Press, 2007. Print. 

A Frosty Fog in the Garden

Weigela florida 'Variegata'

Hamamelis vernalis

Rosa Knockout® Rainbow

Clematis ternifolia

Rosa Knockout®

Callicarpa dichotoma 'Early Amethyst'

Aronia arbutifolia 'Brilliantisima'

Echinacea purpurea

Miscanthus sinsensis 'Gracillimus'

Growing in My Garden: January 16-22

As my son and I left his Cub Scout meeting on Friday night, I could only describe the weather as pouring ice. Steady waves of icy pellets fell noisily on the sidewalk outside the school. We were on the southern edge of a storm system that dumped several inches of snow along the Great Lakes, but left us with a few hours of sleet. When I woke up Saturday morning, I was expecting a crunchy crust on the garden. Instead, the grass was already peeking out from a patchy coating of what looked like snow.

By early afternoon when I walked through the garden with my camera, the bright sun had melted even more of the covering. In one of the front porch containers, the bird nest that came in our Christmas tree held a bit of ice.

Around back, Zefr sat waist deep in ice with the first signs of frost damage appearing on his glazed surface. When I first bought this piece of garden art, I knew it would be a wonderful symbol to welcome visitors to my backyard gardens. Even up to his elbows in ice, he maintains his "what will be, will be" attitude.

Salix integra 'Hikuro Nishiki'

We haven't had many blue sky days this winter, so I took the time to stand beneath the dappled willow and look up through its cross-cutting branches. The kaleidoscope of red and gray against the deep blue sky is among my favorite textures in the winter garden.

Prunus ceracus 'North Star'

Mahogany buds on the North Star Cherry have begun to stand out against the waxy brown twigs. Along with nearby lilac and serviceberry, this tree holds the promise of early spring in a tight embrace.

Helleborus 'Melody'

Last year's Hellebore foliage remains a deep green, if a little wilted by the frigid temperatures we had this week. It's one of the few evergreen plants in the back border. I won't cut back this foliage until well after the new flowers and foliage emerge in February and March.

As I worked my way around to the front yard, the calls of a large flock of geese called my attention upward. I'm not sure which way they were headed, north or south. Perhaps they're as confused by our mild winter as the rest of us are.

I noticed earlier this week that only one of the three sweet gum lining our driveway is covered with seed pods. There are a large number of seedpods on the ground around the other two, but I can't figure out why one tree would still hold onto them while the others dropped.

Looking at the trees, I noticed quick flashes of movement. With a closer look, I saw several goldfinches plucking seed from the dried seed pods hanging from the branches. I returned inside for my zoom lens so I could capture them up close.

At one point, six of them gathered in one section of the tree, hanging every which way to stick their beaks into the openings. For every beak-full they retrieved, a shower of seed would rain out of the pod. Every so often, the finches would flutter over to the neighbor's roof to get a drink from the melting ice.

Getting outside was a good antidote to being cooped up by winter this week. The plants may have been visibly retracting from the frigid air, but a morning of sunshine allowed the critters to come out from hiding and bring some much-needed life to the garden.

Today's Pause: January 16

Growing in My Garden: January 9-15

Not so fast Spring! I'm now wondering if this blog has more influence than originally thought. As soon as I publicized my worry of an early spring, winter was delivered. Temperatures took a nosedive mid-week as a cold front carrying high winds and light but constant snow moved into the Midwest. Over the course of three days, a thin blanket of snow covered most of the garden.

Crysanthemum

I left a few sturdy plants in containers on the front porch, waiting for snow. The plants (including this mum) provide interest even without a covering of snow, but fulfill my aesthetic intentions once covered with a couple of inches of the white stuff.

Aronia 'Brilliantisima'

The shrubs in the driveway border no longer blend into the brown mulch. I'm now wishing I had planted more Aronia, as it has turned out to be a spectacular specimen in winter.

Picea pungens 'Fat Albert'

The needles of the Colorado Blue Spruce collect the light snow up the length of its twigs. The icy snow didn't melt much, so individual flakes could still be seen along the ridges.

Pinus mugo

I barely notice the Mugo pine in the front border until we have a snowfall. The rest of the year, it's a solid shrub that provides good shape and constant color. When its green needles poke out through the fallen snow, it becomes a highlight of the garden.

Picea pungens 'Fat Albert' and Clematis 'Jackmanii'

I'd like to claim credit for planning it this way, but rather accidentally the front border is filled with plants that make excellent show catchers. Of all our garden areas, this part is the best example of the winter garden.

Hylotelephium 'Autumn Joy'

The tall sedum that grows at the base of the spruce may be named 'Autumn Joy' for its russet flowers, but my favorite sedum season has always been winter. The upright stems topped with broad corymbs will collect snow for most of the winter. As stems are broken by the weight or wind, I'll remove them.

Baptisia australis

I tried a new technique with the Baptisia in the front border while cleaning up the garden in fall. Instead of cutting the old stems down to the ground, I pruned the front of the plant down to half-height and the back to around 3/4 height. I'll take them down completely in spring, but I'm enjoying the different architecture it provides for now.

Miscanthus sinensis

Temperatures in the upper teens led to a very dry snow; very little stuck to plants without horizontal surfaces. With the strong winds that we had, I'm surprised any held on to the seed heads of ornamental grasses.

Hylotelphium 'Matrona'

Tall sedum makes an excellent companion to tall ornamental grasses, in both autumn and winter. Against the snow, their color becomes even more pronounced.

Itea virginica 'Little Henry'

My jury is still out on 'Little Henry' sweetspire. It has interesting summer flowers and good fall color, but its habit and overall impact in the landscape is underwhelming. I'm growing two of these shrubs in the back border, and if I'm honest they've been disappointing. Even with a snowy background, the branches and seed heads don't scream "look at me." It's possible they need to be moved to place where they are less of a focal point.

Hibiscus syriacus

Despite the high germination rate of their seeds, I leave Rose of Sharon (Hibiscus syriacus) pods on for winter. I'll be pulling saplings out next season, but I enjoy the ornamentation they provide during winter. I always chuckle when I see a Rose of Sharon sapling for sale in our garden center. I could probably retire by selling the seedlings I remove.

As I write this, it has warmed up to 46F and large areas of mulch have reemerged in the garden. If this is our only real taste of winter this year, I'll be disappointed. But as most gardeners will attest, satisfaction in the garden is an undefinable mix of hard work, good (perhaps lucky) choices and a willingness to accept what Mother Nature provides.

A Friendly Reminder

This past week, I haven't done well in fulfilling my pledge to pause each day to let nature's splendor fill me with inspiration. I let the panic of life set in, running from one task to the next, letting other concerns take precedence over this simple exercise in humility and recharge. Thankfully, I received a friendly reminder when my friend Steve Bender (Southern Living's Grumpy Gardener) posted my Thanksgiving essay to his Facebook page.

Tonight at sunset, I drove out to the same location that had inspired that post to catch the final bit of orange as it slipped past the horizon.

Without Steve's reminder, I may not have chosen to look outside when my wife asked about tonight's sunset. As much as we repeat our personal mantra, sometimes it takes good friends to help remind us just who we want to be.

Changing of the Seasons at Meadowbrook Park: January 14

Winter arrived in central Illinois this week in the form of three straight days of light, blowing snow. A thin blanket of white filled the gaps between the dried stems of the prairie during my Saturday afternoon visit to Meadowbrook Park. Against the background of white, the prairie appeared more as a collection of individual plants than the swaying mass of bronze and gold.

Much of the snow that remained on the ground collected in drifts flowing along the edge of the walking paths. It was hard to tell just how much snow we received. Some drifts stood knee high, while other areas were swept clean by steady, strong winds.

A good number of people enjoyed the park, despite temperatures in the 20s. I've envied the residents that live adjacent to Meadowbrook, with such a magnificent resource literally in their back yards.

As I began my hour-long hike, flurries filled the air but the breeze became still enough to let the snow fall to the ground. Out in the middle of the prairie, I stopped several times just to listen to the quiet; I could almost hear the flakes settle into the tallgrass.

Pycnanthemum virginium

The gray stems and seed heads of Mountain Mint (Pycanthemum virginium) stand out among the brown tones. In such a monocromatic landscape, even subtle differences in hue create a striking contrast.

Lespedeza leptostachya

The dark russet seeds of prairie bush clover (Lespedeza leptostachya) dotted the prairie. Normally lofted on thin grey stems, a few of the plants showed fasciation near the flower head (pictured on top and bottom right).

I chose to walk off trail towards the stream that runs through the park. Thickening ice fogged the surface of the water; a light dusting of snow powdered the frozen surface. The sound of flowing water emerged from small, unfrozen pockets along the shore.

I made my way upstream toward the beaver dam. The increasing frequency of severed 12-18" stumps told me I was getting closer to their aquatic architecture.

The stream above the dam was more thickly frozen, collecting a heavier carpet of snow. From many angles, upstream was indistinguishable from the shoreline woods. As I walked along, I was careful not to end up in rather than along the stream.

Pin cherries seem to be the favorite of the park's deer population. Deer damage and hoof prints were common along the entire stream.

Rhus typhina

A small grove of staghorn sumac (Rhus typhina) grows near where the stream turns north. The large, bright red seed heads are visible for a distance through the trees and brush. Judging by the number of fuzzy saplings growing in the area, it's a prolific spreader.

Bird nests could be spotted easily as they've become snow collection points. I noticed this nest during last weeks visit. It had been filled with a red fruit (perhaps honeysuckle or crabapple) by some bird. Some of this fruit is still visible beneath the snow.

Asclepias

Milkweed (Asclepias) pods slowly allow seed to become airborne. I can only imagine with the winds of the past few days where these opportunistic seeds will find their next patch of fertile ground.

Alnus glutinosa

The northern stretch of the stream is lined with alder (Alnus glutinosa). Alder is a tree commonly found at the water's edge due to its ability to withstand long periods under water. Alder is monoecious, with both long, slender male catkins and rounder female catkins on the same tree. I was fascinated by the root morphology at the base of the trees. Alder have a nitrogen-fixing symbiotic relationship with a bacterium that forms root nodules. I need to do more research to determine if these interesting root formations are the result of this relationship, or simply a function of being under water for the parts of the year when the stream is high.

The Meadowbrook stream is fed by stormwater runoff that enters through an inlet just north of a pedestrian bridge that connects the inner and outer walking paths in the park. I hope to visit at some point this year after a major rain event to see how this area changes during high water.

The hazy, descending sun began to peek through the clouds, shining off the top of a metal sculpture  "Position 1" (by Chicago sculptor Ron Gard) just on the other side of the bridge. I stood and watched the sun reflect off Gard's work, a fitting end to this icy visit to Meadowbrook Park.