Cornus

I'm reading The Omnivore's Dilemma, by Michael Pollan; Part I is about the hyper-adaptive relationship between man and corn. (Did you know that the silk is the female sex organ and the tassel is the male?) If we have dinner anytime soon, I'll be having the falafel, thanks.

So, here's Cornus kousa 'Stellar Pink.' There's nothing at all stellar about the pink; in fact, it hardly shows at all.

I'm surprised at how fast this tree has grown given the generally slow growth rate of the Chinese dogwoods. This one started about 7 years ago at the basic size you'd normally get at a nursery and now it's at least 10 feet tall (it's 6' to the top of the fence).

The Gaza Strip is maybe 4' wide by 50 feet long, is parallel and about 20 feet from the back of our house, and abuts our neighbors uphill. Their yard is about six feet higher than our own; it's retained by the first rock wall I built. (Hard to believe it hasn't caved in, it was really badly built.) It gets the most southern exposure of the garden, which isn't much.

Stellar Pink is planted there and so far has grown into a graceful vase-like shape without much care. I'm lazy about watering up there and I bet I don't throw a handful of organic 5-5-5 in that direction even once a year. If I remember it right, I've cut at least one low branch off each year for the past three years. If I can remember, I'll let you know if I do it again this year.

I bought it because I thought its name meant the pink color was stellar. (I really wanted a "Satomi" but couldn't find one because Ketzel Levine had been swooning about it and there had been a run on the nursery stock.) Like most second choices it was disappointing at first -- the flowers are charming and can look like stars (or like little handkerchiefs), but they bloom above my head. I usually don't even think about it except on days like this one, when the limbs are bowed low from a soaking rain. "Hey, look: the dogwood," I say to myself. Now that I've walked into my neighbors' backyard to take a good look at it, Stellar Pink is one of the most outstanding performers in the garden. The neighbors really enjoy her act.

If you're looking to plant a dogwood, be sure to get a kousa. The so-called "Flowering Dogwood", or Cornus florida, is succumbing to anthracnose, a fungal infection that is prevalent in moist, shaded areas; it causes dieback, which at best will be cause for some nasty-looking pruning and at worst (which is usual), kill enough of the tree so that you have to cut it down. The kousas are not only a smaller tree, good for our 50x100-feet town lots, but are very disease resistant. Some are . . . okay, Stellar, and slightly Pink.

Laburnum x watereri "Alford's Weeping"

I have two lumps on my head from this "Golden Chain" tree, one on my forehead and one atop my head. These are not strong-growing trees. They should be well-staked when young, so they'll grow upright, and then pruned regularly, to keep their branches from getting too lanky.

This one got none of that attention, even though I planted it in the narrow space on the east side of the house where it -- and I -- could have got along without the leaning and the head-bonking. The idea was for it to grow in front of the two large double-hung windows in the library, a shield from the neighbors. Which it did for a year or three, and was mighty pretty. Then the "hurricane" of December 2007 blew it over. I should cut it down -- and I will -- but not until it stops looking like THIS.

You might take a look at a gorgeous closeup of one of its flowers, from flickr.

Laburnums grow wonderfully well here on the North Coast, where everything is in partial sun unless it's in shade. (You can't really call any aspect "full sun" when you get about 20 days of that a year.) They have all the characteristics of sweet peas in giant size: fast growth, great flowers, unpicky about soil and fertilizer. Its relatively modest size makes it a good tree for our small city lots where we are trying to preserve views for ourselves and our neighbors. It begins to flower in early- to mid-May and goes along for at least a month. Then the sweet-pea-like flowers are followed by seed pods.

By all means, if you have space, make yourself a laburnum walk. Stop drooling!