Ambling through the North Carolina Arboretum in Asheville

A moth perches on daisies in front of the Education Center at the North Carolina Arboretum

In mid-June, while motoring through the Southern Appalachian Mountains, I discovered the North Carolina Arboretum, located a short distance from my route. I spent part of my morning there ambling through the gardens.

The Arboretum charges a per vehicle fee which is waived for members. As I am not a member and was traveling alone, my admission fee was in effect $12 - several dollars more than I expected to pay. 

Yet, after visiting, I'd do it again - and allow more time for exploring. The property includes 65 acres of cultivated gardens and more than 10 miles of hiking trails - far too much ground to cover in less than two hours. I did have time, however, to stop by the Heritage Garden, the Quilt Garden, the Stream Garden, the Bonsai Exhibition Garden, and the Plants of Promise Garden.

The Quilt Garden  

Hydrangea maculata "Lisbelle"

Shade loving Hosta "Allen P. McConnell"

Spiky shapes and shadows add interest

Plant markers identify species

A soothing waterfall fountain

Wisteria vines wind up tree

Education Center porch

Daisies galore at the Entrance Plaza

Shade loving plants grow in front of the Baker Exhibit Center

I'm a huge fan of Japanese maples

On my way back to the Interstate, I stopped by the Eden Brothers warehouse and went a little crazy buying seeds. That's what happens when a gardener leaves paradise. 

The North Carolina Arboretum

For more information, visit the North Carolina Arboretum's website: http://www.ncarboretum.org.

Camellias in Bloom

My late grandmother Chessie Pearce's camellia
Camden County, North Carolina
Photographed by Edward L. Pearce

This past Saturday the Coastal Carolina Camellia Society held its annual camellia show. According to the Society's FaceBook page, more than 1,000 blooms were entered. I intended to go across town to view the entries, but got busy and forgot until too late. What a great opportunity it would have been to learn more about camellias.

My grandmother, Chessie Pearce, grew a camellia tree in her garden. The tree is at least sixty-five years old but possibly much older. My brother Edward remembers our grandmother saying camellias should be planted on the north side of a pine and also remembers her calling her tree a japonica. Sometime during the 1970s temperatures dropped below zero and the freeze damaged Grandmama's tree. After Edward cut it back to about five feet, it revived. Now, forty-five years after our grandmother's death, the tree is approximately eighteen feet tall and blooms prolifically. 

Chessie Pearce's camellia tree is more than 65 years old
Photographed by Edward L. Pearce

My knowledge of camellias is not extensive. I'm familiar with japonicas and sasanquas, and with camellia sinensis, the tea plant. These are not, however, the only species of camellias and after doing a bit of reading, I realize it's quite possible that some of the camellias I believed to be japonicas are not.

Here's the local conventional wisdom: Japonica blossoms make beautiful cut flowers, perfect for floating in a glass bowl indoors or in a birdbath outdoors. Sasanqua blossoms don't last when cut. 

Where I live, the sasanquas usually bloom from September to November and japonicas bloom in the winter. 

This red and white variegated variety 
grows in my front yard

This cream colored camellia sporting 
a wealth of stamens grows near my front door
 

A pink and white variegated variety
 growing in my front yard

My one-third acre lot contains a number of camellias. Some, or all, of the seven that came with the house, when I bought it, had been transplanted here from Summerville when the prior homeowner moved his parents into assisted living. One of the seven budded yearly, but never bloomed, and succumbed during a cold winter several years ago. A single one of the remaining six is a sasanqua, which I've had cut back, but has resumed growth. I always assumed the other five were  of the japonica species, but after perusing the American Camellia Society's website this afternoon, I'm not so certain.

This white camellia japonica is one I bought, from a plant nursery or garden center, and planted perhaps as much as ten or twelve years ago. It's at the back of the lot and gets little sunlight. Perhaps that's why it's stingy with its gorgeous blossoms. 

My older japonicas produce seeds. In the last three years volunteers have sprouted under an old pink-blossomed tree. With varying success, I've transplanted seedlings to other spots in my yard. I've also given a few away.

When I intentionally planted camellia seeds in the past, either they didn't grow, or I forgot where I planted them and accidentally mowed them down. The seedlings are similar in appearance to those of the homely wild cherry trees that, due to bird droppings, each year produce hundreds of seedlings under my huge live oak and a variety of other shrubs and trees. 

My sister Martha Ann in northeastern North Carolina had success growing a camellia from a seed I gave her years ago. One of her animals, a goat, attempted to eat the small shrub, but now it's growing back.

This past August I harvested seeds from the five older japonicas

I have not yet taken on the task of identifying the varieties of my camellias. Nor have I been a particularly good steward of them in the past. I hope to remedy that.

On the grounds of the Berkeley County
Library, Daniel Island, SC

On the Rokko Island greenway, Kobe, Japan

As a result of having family members living in Japan, I have been able to view camellias in bloom at Tenryū-ji and other gardens in Kyoto, as well as, in and around Kobe. 

One of a group of camellia trees growing out of rock
 on a hillside above Kobe, Japan in late November

There are plenty of opportunities to see camellias blooming in the American South. At this time of year a stroll through older neighborhoods, such as the one where I live, is a treat for a camellia lover. 

Two weeks from today, Middleton Place begins its annual guided Camellia Walks. Botanist Andre Michaux is said to have introduced the camellia japonica there around 1785. 

This japonica by my laundry room thrives on afternoon sunlight but needs some TLC

Seed pods in situ

A volunteer that I transplanted

April at Tenryū-ji temple gardens in Kyoto, Japan

A leaf wants to hide this pretty pink blossom at Tenryū-ji

A variegated blossom at Tenryū-ji 

This one grows by my laundry room

Thank you for visiting The Traveling Gardener. 
Your comments are welcome.

The Cupola House Gardens Revisited

Thursday as I drove along US Highway 17 through North Carolina I began to taste Thanksgiving flavors a week early. I wasn't actually eating anything. The leaf color, though, so thoroughly autumn, brought to mind the flavors of turkey gravy, stuffing, pumpkin pie. I could almost smell the cinnamon and nutmeg seasoning in the imaginary dessert. I salivated as I drove past leaves the color of butterscotch and persimmon.  

The Cupola House

Detouring from Highway 17, I headed to the Cupola House in Edenton, the location of the colonial revival gardens I first visited and photographed in May. Mrs. Torres at Emilio's General Store & Take Away on South Broad Street told me I was in luck - the garden volunteers had just finished weeding the previous day.   

These pink roses might seem to belong to spring or summer

According to the Cupola House Gardens brochure "Donald Parker, a landscape architect with Colonial Williamsburg, designed these gardens based roughly on the second of C.J. Sauthier's 1769 maps of Edenton."  

Cyclamen emerge amongst autumn leaves 

Claude Joseph Sauthier, a native of Strasbourg, France, trained in surveying, architecture, and landscape gardening, and was brought to North Carolina by Governor Tryon. In an essay entitled "People and Plants: North Carolina's Garden History Revisited" (British and American Gardens in the Eighteenth Century, edited by Robert P. Maccubbin and Peter Martin, 1984, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, Williamsburg, Virginia), author John Flowers writes "Some have suggested that the garden plots that appear in most of [the] town plans were used merely to decorate the maps...But Sauthier was too careful a draftsman and accurate surveyor to ornament his work so casually." 

Yellow - an expected color for autumn flowers

Not all of the plants placed, in accordance with Parker's design, at the Cupola House Gardens survived. Over the years garden volunteers have made changes as necessary to the landscape with a pleasing result.

A ginko tree with bright yellow leaves grows beside the house and next to Broad Street

The herb garden with pomegranate trees in the background

My Garden Update
Some species of insect that loves tomatoes also feasted on the skin of my pomegranates this year. Better luck next year, perhaps?

The leaves on my dogwood trees never turn such a vibrant red but where I live we don't usually have a cold snap before the leaves have dropped. (Crape myrtle tree on the left, dogwoods center and right.)

To learn more about Edenton's Cupola House, visit the website:  www.cupolahouse.org

Blazing Autumn

Autumn color at the Kobe Municipal Arboretum in Japan

Russet, golden, deep wine, butternut, brick, lime, tan. These are but a few of the colors that leaves in the northern hemisphere turn during the last three months of the calendar year.

Here in the Lowcountry, we don't often get a colorful autumn and most of our leaf color arrives in late November. Our ubiquitous live oaks drop their leaves in the spring and never sport the bright colors of Japanese maples or ginkgo trees. The native dogwoods and Virginia creeper provide a bit of color but not enough to make it appear that we have four distinct seasons.

Autumn leaves in Savannah, Georgia on Thanksgiving Day 2010

A few days ago, I drove through the North Carolina mountains on my way to Kentucky and Tennessee. During the drive up, I didn't see much leaf color. The single stretch where trees with brilliant yellow leaves lined the interstate highway happened to be where the road is most narrow. Tractor-trailer trucks whizzed along far too close to one another in the right lane and the driver of the large pickup truck behind my car in the left lane seemed to want me to drive more than ten miles an hour above the speed limit. No leaf peeping for me!  

Autumn color at the North Carolina Welcome Center on I-40
near the Tennessee state line early yesterday afternoon

Thursday morning as I walked along Main Street in Danville, Kentucky I viewed the trees and ornamental plantings, as around me townspeople, and visitors in town for the Vice Presidential debate, chatted on Main Street, enjoying a crisp, clear day. The ginko trees that line this charming town had just begun to go from green to yellow.  Maples blushed, but many continued to contain branches that bore partially green leaves. Purple petunias and orangey geraniums brightened up the exterior of a real estate office while pots of yellow or lavender mums stood near other doorways.    

Fallen leaves near the labyrinth in Danville, Kentucky

Ginkgo trees line Main Street in Danville, Kentucky
On the day of the Vice Presidential debate at Centre College, the leaves 
on  the sunlit side of the street had just begun the transition to yellow

Friday morning driving down US 127 on my way to Nashville, I witnessed gorgeous fall colors. The trees formed mosaics on the sides of hills. On Sunday on I-65, I saw trees growing from natural rock walls. Sometimes they alternated in color as if someone had implemented a landscaper's design: yellow, red, butternut, yellow, red, butternut.    

On a walk though the woods with a friend in Tennessee, I saw plenty of colorful dropped leaves. Black walnuts, hickory nuts, and tiny persimmons also were scattered along the path. As we approached Sycamore Creek, a large flock of blackbirds (starlings, perhaps) flew in and settled in the tops of trees. 

One of my favorite past-times, during autumn and winter, is watching flocks of blackbirds gather and disperse, gather and disperse. Their calls might sound raucous, but their movement is like a symphony conducted by God.  

Red maples at Tofuku-ji in Kyoto, Japan

Tofuku-ji

Last year I had the good fortune of visiting Tofuku-ji in Kyoto during early December. I was there to see the moss checkerboard, but because the peak fall color came slightly later than usual, I also saw the valley of red maples. So many tourists filled Tofuku-ji on that day that security guards were needed to maintain order in the temple grounds. 

Maple leaves in Kobe, Japan

Red maples in Mino, Osaka Prefecture, Japan

Ginkgo leaves in Kobe, Japan

Kobe Municipal Arboretum, Kobe, Japan

Over the past eighteen months I've planted a ginkgo tree, two Japanese maples (one red), and an ornamental cherry in my front yard. Within a year or two perhaps my Lowcountry autumns will  be more colorful.

These leaves, fallen from ornamentals at a Raleigh, North Carolina hotel,
 I found so beautiful that the next  year I made a detour just to see the fall color

Because You Asked

All photographs in each of my Traveling Gardener blog posts were taken by me (Frances J. Pearce) unless otherwise noted. 

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Fallen leaves in multiple colors on the outskirts of Danville, Kentucky