Consult the Strawberry Book

Day 61: I got a very early start with horticulture when at age two, I was introduced to the "Strawberry Book" by my dad. It became known in the family as such because one time when no one was looking, I took a crayon to the line drawing of a strawberry (my favourite of the illustrations). I was firmly chastised for the error of my ways, and thereafter was only allowed to peruse the Strawberry Book with supervision. The book passed to me when I reached adulthood, and despite its dated nature, has still proved to be a valuable resource for my horticultural experiments. Some things never change, like the fact that gooseberries can be propagated by soil layering (purportedly "easily," although that remains to be demonstrated). It was to the Strawberry Book that I returned when my weaving partner Ed bought property and wanted to begin putting in a garden. He so loves my gooseberry jam that he asked me for starts from my plants. After the twigs had lost their leaves, I scraped off the harder outer tissue to expose the cambium layer, treated the wounds with rooting hormone, staked the twigs down and covered them with soil, essentially the same method I used to propagate from my contorted filbert. Gooseberries certainly won't be as challenging as that was!

Horticultural Achievement

Day 316: After struggling for five years to find an effective method for rooting a slip from my contorted filbert, I discovered this last spring that I had succeeded with one soil-layering out of a dozen. I potted it up and buried the pot up to its rim in the front flower bed where I could keep a close eye on my baby. I watched as it put on buds, and as they matured into leaves, I was convinced I'd succeeded at long last. And then I committed an egregious sin: I forgot all about it. We went through a blistering hot spell with temperatures over 100 degrees. I watered, but did I check to see if it needed special protection? No. In fact, I didn't think about the poor little thing until a few days ago, and then only as an afterthought when I was pulling weeds. Hidden behind other foliage, it almost escaped my notice even then. It's had all summer to develop a strong root system, and given what it's been through, it seems determined to survive. Next spring, I'll plant it in its permanent location. And I'll check on the next dozen who will have had their joints pinned under the soil for a year.

Horticulture In Action

Day 131: Emboldened by my success at producing one rooted slip of contorted filbert in my entire horticultural history with the tree using multiple methods over a period of five or six years, I set out this morning to determine whether the experiment was repeatable or only a fluke. Since soil layering had been the only means with which I'd had any luck, I made eight "staples" out of aluminum wire, tied flagger tape to them (it won't fade like the cloth strips did), and headed out into light drizzle with a trowel, a sharp knife, rooting hormone and assorted other pieces of gardening gear to tackle the project. I was able to find eight conveniently contorted bends in branches close to the ground, scraped wounds on the bottoms of each twig and dosed it with Rootone, then buried each one two to three inches deep, mounding dirt donated by the resident mole around each staple before packing it down. Now the project is in Ma Nature's hands. The timing is right. The sap is running. New growth has begun. Will I have to wait five years again to get results? If that's what it takes, I have the patience for the task.

Layered At Last!

Day 130: If western Washington records an 8.5 earthquake this afternoon, that was me upon discovering that my horticultural labours have finally been rewarded. Yes, that is a rooted slip of Harry Lauder's Walking Stick, Corylus avellana "Contorta," the fruit of a soil-layering attempt begun in 2016! It is the only one of ten to take root. Two years ago, I thought it felt like it was attached to the ground, but I didn't want to disturb it until it had had a chance to establish. I still wasn't completely convinced last year. Today when I checked on it, there was no doubt: it had formed a good root system and was ready to move to Phase Two, i.e., being transplanted to a sunken pot where it will remain for another year before being put in its permanent location. I believe this was one of the slips I treated with rooting hormone although the colour had faded entirely from the cloth strips I'd used as indicators of "treated" vs. "untreated." Given the difficulty I've had propagating Harry using every method known to man but grafting, I think it's safe to assume that this must have been one of the treated twigs. Soil layering, for those of you unfamiliar with the procedure, is done by burying a living twig in soil, leaving it attached to the parent plant until a root system forms. It is sometimes helpful to create a wound on the lower portion of the buried piece as I did in this instance. The wound stimulates a healing response. I am ecstatic! Now let's see if I can do it again.