Why don’t my plants flower?

Every gardener is familiar with the extraordinary effectiveness of vines in a proper setting, but most of us become discouraged after bad luck. The daintier vines have a habit of developing some unknown illness and dying back unexpectedly, while those which thrive usually do too good a job of it. Many a porch has collapsed under the weight of a husky vine, and many a fence has eventually been relinquished to the stranglehold of some plant which was merely intended to decorate and drape it . . . not to take possession. The lusty vines, which are coarse in growth and bloom, may have a definite place in our gardens, but they are just about as subtle as Niagara Falls.

Named for Karl August von Bergen, 1704-60, German botanist (Saxifragaceae). These hardy perennial herbaceous plants with large evergreen leaves were at one time called megasea, and were at another time included with the saxifrages. The flowers which come in early spring are showy in white, pink or red-purple, borne in large heads on long stems. The large leathery, glossy leaves are also decorative, especially as in some kinds the foliage is suffused with reddish color in winter.

We plant trees for their beauty of leaf, whether green in Summer or red in the Autumn; for their bark which becomes particularly fascinating. We plant trees because we love them. Some trees linger in our memories as old friends, from whose branches we have swung and “skinned-the-cat”; under whose cool shade we have rested from play or work. Some trees seem to have moods, changing from day to day, season to season, and from youth to old age.

Fragrance in flowers is such a desirable attribute that it’s a perennial complaint of many gardeners that modern varieties of various plants, particularly roses, lack all or most of the fragrance of the older varieties. This is demonstrably untrue of many varieties, of course, yet there is a good deal of truth in the generalization. Some varieties are certainly much less fragrant than the ‘old-fashioned’ roses and a few seem to lack detectable fragrance, but, on the whole, a good modern variety will number fragrance among its qualities. Much depends, of course, upon the individual sense of smell, coupled with the ‘scent memory’ which all of us possess to some degree. It is, in fact, usually well developed and most of us are readily and instantaneously reminded by present scents of past incidents, places, and persons, and although the actual vocabulary of scent is limited, it is usually possible for us to describe a scent fairly accurately by comparing it with another. Thus it is quite usual for us to say that a flower has a lily-like fragrance, or that it smells like new-mown hay.

Flowering fiesta Bright Color

Planting a tree takes a lot of thought. We may have to consider if we want a tree that is:

Commemorating M. Gaillard de Marentonneau, a French patron of botany (Compositae). Blanket flower. A small genus of annuals and perennials, natives of America, with a long flowering period, useful for cut flowers. Somewhat untidy in habit, the long stalks fall about in wind and rain. Gaillardias need some twiggy stakes to help to keep the flowers clean and in full view.

From the Greek echinos, a hedgehog, opsis, like, referring to the spiky appearance of the flower heads which resemble a rolled-up hedgehog (Compositae).

There are dwarf and taller pea varieties. Although plants of the short, dwarf varieties may be grown without supports it is the custom to provide all garden peas with supports of some sort. Twiggy brushwood of the height the plants will attain is much liked by gardeners.

From the Greek erodios, a heron; the style and ovaries resemble the head and beak of a heron (Geraniaceae). Heron’s bill. Hardy perennials, closely related to the hardy geraniums, or crane’s bills. There are dwarf species suitable for the rock garden and taller border plants.

The name originates from the Greek anchousa, a cosmetic paint (Boraginaceae). Alkanet, bugloss. Cultivated species are usually perennials or biennials, noteworthy for their blue flowers. The plant long known as Anchusa myosotidiflora is now correctly known as Brunnera macrophylla.

This is not to say that I have no other roses in my garden. Life would not be complete without a few good reds, a generous handful of peach-tinted varieties and a sprinkling of whites. This year we may acquire one or two striped roses, and I have a feeling that they may prove addictive. However, for the moment, the yellow roses hold sway in my heart.