by Lindsay Bond Totten
Scripps Howard News Service
What to do when you're hopelessly in love with a seriously flawed plant?
I've tried making new plant friends. Burying myself in my work. I've even taken up several worthy causes (volunteering is great for the soul). But nothing has helped; I'm still smitten.
My latest strategy is focused on proselytizing. I figure if more gardeners shared my passion, fewer would disparage it. In the hands of a skilled spin-meister, "flawed" could become "quirky." The next thing you know, my love is on the cover of Horticulture magazine. So ...
Redbuds, anyone?
I find nearly everything about this wonderful small tree seductive. Tiny blooms emerge before the leaf buds break in spring. The effect, a rosy-pink haze against bare winter twigs, is diaphanous.
The silhouette, a perfect vase, is distinctive even in winter. Summer branches support a canopy of big beautiful heart-shaped leaves.
In the woods, or tucked next to a wall or patio--easy to do with such a slim waist--redbuds whisper "spring," sharing a brief interlude with serviceberries, bluebells, and early narcissus before the brassy blooms of crabapples elbow them aside.
Though technically native to my region (southwestern Pennsylvania, USDA Zone 5b), eastern redbud (Cercis Canadensis) is uncommon here at the extreme northern tip of its range. Just south, however, in West Virginia, soft clouds of color punctuate woodland's edge in spring. By the Virginia line, redbud trees are everywhere throughout the landscape.
Increasingly milder winters make the cultivation of redbuds less risky here than it used to be. Almost a decade has passed since low temperatures threatened serious winter injury. So I feel confident in endorsing them to Zone 5 gardeners as a viable alternative to hardier species.
Now, about that flaw. (Dang, I wish I could omit this part, but that would be deceptive advertising). It's Botrysphaeria canker, a fungus disease that, at a fairly young age, starts to kill off branches one by one, until, eventually, there's nothing left. By the time most redbuds are 20 years old, they're on the decline; by 30 they're dead.
Stress, such as poor drainage or drought, hastens the onset of canker, but good cultural practices hold it at bay. Fungicide treatments cannot contain it.
Since Botrysphaeria won't spread to other plants, I see no reason to avoid redbuds. My philosophy--"it's better to have loved and lost"--encourages gardeners to experience the joys of this remarkable genus without succumbing to its faults.
If you lose a redbud, plant another. Perhaps one of these superior varieties may tempt you to love again:
- Cercis Canadensis alba. A white-flowering form of our lovely eastern native, this variety is especially nice when intermingled in a small grove with the pink-flowering form.
- Cercis Canadensis 'Forest Pansy'. 'Forest Pansy' is the current sweetheart of the nursery trade, partly because maroon foliage sells plants. It's a relatively new variety and warrants every bit of the attention it's garnering.
As the rosy pink flowers of 'Forest Pansy' fade in spring, young leaves emerge a vibrant red. If the tree is planted in full sun, the color settles into a rich shade of claret for the rest of the season. (In shade, the color is more subdued.) Exquisite form and handsome foliage inspire love at first sight for many gardeners.
- Cercis Canadensis 'Covey'. Gardeners who fall in love with this new weeping beauty can thank Tim Brotzman (Brotzman's Nursery, Madison, Ohio) for playing cupid. Graceful branches with a full compliment of bright pink flowers would look great on a slope or cascading over a wall. Brotzman claims that 'Covey' is hardier than other weeping forms--welcome news for Zone 5 gardeners. Look for 'Covey' under its trademark name of "Lavender Twist."
- Cercis Canadensis texensis 'Texas White'. My current heartthrob, though it's a bit of a tease to mention it, because 'Texas White' is rare in nurseries. I love the white flowers but grow it for its stunning leaves, which are smaller than those of the species, but darker green and very glossy.
Our tree perks up the dappled shade and serves as a wonderful companion for the dwarf Rhododendrons beneath it.
- Cercis chinensis 'Don Egolf'. Here's the breakthrough redbud lovers have been hoping for: disease resistance to Botrysphaeria canker. More compact in habit than our native redbuds, this Asian variety holds the genetic key needed by plant breeders here to correct the flaw in our own.
'Don Egolf' is brand new, so it probably won't be available in local nurseries for a couple of years. But when it arrives, it should have more gardeners proposing to redbuds, with the hope of establishing long-term relationships.
(Lindsay Bond Totten, a horticulturist, writes about gardening for Scripps Howard News Service.)
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