by Lindsay Bond Totten
Scripps Howard News Service
"Remind me again why I planted that Camperdown elm in such an important spot?"
It's late July, and with pruning saw clutched firmly in hand, I'm just lookin' for ways to reduce the maintenance chores on our seven-acre plot. The Camperdown elm, with its coarse disposition, raggedy leaves, and in-your-face location is dead-centered in my crosshairs.
"Winter interest, I think you said." My husband is behind me--he knows to stand back when I'm in this mood--ready to clear the tall grass around the Camperdown's trunk with his string trimmer before mowing.
Good answer. The Camperdown elm breathes a slight sigh of relief. Still, it wasn't ever seriously worried.
I lower the saw and reach for my limb loppers instead. I'll just remove the dead wood. Again. The Camperdown elm loses branches and twigs every season. And that's just one of its annoying habits. Up close, many of the leaves have been ravaged by elm leaf beetles. We won't spray, so the skeletonizing continues.
I finish the job and step back. From 50 feet, the tree doesn't look as bad. Fifty paces is even better.
Camperdown elm (Ulmus glabra 'Camperdownii') is one of those extraordinarily rare deciduous plants that actually looks better in winter than at any other time of the year. Gardeners like me feel compelled to grow it because of our displeasure with the sheer length of the season. Beneath the lackluster foliage of Camperdown elm and a handful of other specimens like it, we search for rays of hope and beauty among the dreary remains of the garden.
What is Camperdown's allure? Weirdly weeping branches, held almost parallel to the ground; a necklace-like graft, where deeply furrowed bark meets smooth in most unlikely union; the way snow rests on its nearly horizontal branches; even its silhouette against the ground.
Harry Lauder's Walking Stick (Corylus avellana 'Contorta') possesses similar attributes. Gnarled stems and twisted twigs, shrouded in coarse green foliage during the growing season, are gradually revealed in autumn. For the next five months, Harry will serve as a living sculpture in the landscape. To take advantage of his performance, place him where he can be appreciated from a prominent window.
Some gardeners will surely balk at my decision to include the corkscrew willow (Salix matsudana) in this group. But it's simply not a plant I can fully appreciate with its leaves on. I've tried.
Upright in habit, thus useful for tucking into damp corners, graceful stems curl lazily upward, like spirals of smoke against a pale winter sky. In summer, the leaves grow awkwardly in all directions, attached as they are to irregular twigs. To me, the foliage broadcasts "bad hair day."
Increase the charm of corkscrew willow in winter by choosing one of the excellent cultivars 'Scarlet Curls' or 'Golden Curls'. The color of the stems is most prominent in late winter as the sap begins to rise.
Several other plants gain access to this exclusive tribe by virtue of colorful bark: The coral-twigged Japanese maple known as 'Sango Kaku' is a shoe-in, along with a relatively rare striped maple, Acer pennsylvanica 'Erythrocladum', whose branch tips begin to glow only after the leaves drop. Red- and yellow-stemmed dogwoods could be eligible, too, but only those with plain green leaves, such as 'Cardinal'.
As I walk past my Callicarpa japonica bushes in autumn, I give the shrubs a good shake, hoping to release the leaves a little early. Beneath the ho-hum foliage lurk clusters of neon purple berries--I know they're in there--and it's the only reason I bother with beautyberry. The sooner the leaves drop, the better.
Though I value wintery holly (Ilex verticillata) in all seasons, winter is definitely the species' finest hour. In leaf, the plant is medium everything--green, texture, height. What's not to like?
But when the branches bare all, winterberry's true assets are revealed. Bright crimson fruits cling to stark gray stems, a highlight of the winter garden. They'll stay all winter unless the birds take an interest, which usually doesn't happen until late in the season when other natural foods are depleted.
A case can be made to include 'Winter King' hawthorn (Crataegus viridis 'Winter King') on this short list of deciduous plants that look best in winter. I nominate it as much for its silvery bark and distinctive horizontal branching pattern as I do for the gorgeous clusters of red berries that show up only after the leaves fall.
I can think of only one plant to recommend for its buds alone. Without them, there'd be no reason to grow pussywillow (Salix caprea) at all. A rank habit and untidy foliage are not enough to squelch our fascination with this Class B shrub. But plant it we do--hopefully behind something prettier in summer--to reap the visual rewards of its exquisite buds for two weeks in late summer.
(Lindsay Bond Totten, a horticulturist, writes about gardening for Scripps Howard News Service.)
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