Plants – Felder Rushing's Blog

August 31, 2024August 31, 2024

Cold Hardy Succulents for the Southeast

Unusual. Strange. Odd. Peculiar. Weird. Bizarre. Phantastic. All good starting points for members of my fav group of plants.

Starting when I was just five years old, I have amassed a smorgasbord of cacti and other succulents. Of all the plants this horticulturist has collected and grown over the decades, these are the ones that have, er, “stuck with me” in spite of my neglectful ways.

Earliest Plant Memories

Honest – my earliest-ever memory of a specific plant is from when I was just a kid, and a prickly shrub with yellow flowers exploded my brand-new inflatable beach ball; I also remember Mom gaslighting me with how it was the fault of the wind – her cactus was blameless.

Later, during a fifth-grade school assignment on growing plants, I peddled my bicycle to a nearby garden center where the generous owner gifted me a potted miniature version of mom’s prickly pear. Barely a dozen years later while working in a garden center in south Texas, a Latino co-worker shared a potful of an unusual species of the familiar “mother-in-law tongue” or “snake plant” called Sansevieria (now renamed Dracaena, which I deeply resent), which I still grow and share some half a century later.

A few of Felder's Sansevierias — A few of Felder’s Sansevierias

Those three plants – and the people associated with them – stand out as best examples of how young gardeners are influenced by the unexpected.

No How-to Here

Not going to get into botany and horticulture, how cacti are succulents but not all succulents are cacti, nor linger over their astonishing array of unique features and surprisingly spectacular flowers, and ease of propagation for sharing. Suffice to say all those I grow require bright light and well drained soils (sharp grit – a succulent’s roots’ dream).

Dividing offsets for planting — Rooting succulent stems

I just want to be on record that while many of these unique species are subtropical and if left out in the cold will melt into mush, a surprising number grow perfectly well outdoors, all year, even in the Gulf- and Mid-South’s heat, thick humidity, heavy rains followed by prolonged droughts, and occasional dips into single digit temperatures of my climate. With panache.

BIG CAVEAT: Garden centers often push all succulents together based just on their being succulents – imagine a pet store putting dogs, cats, and guinea pigs in the same kennels! And from looks alone it is impossible to tell tender kinds from hardy survivors – or realistic artificial ones for that matter!

Pencil cactus - related to poinsettina — Holiday cactus flowers in spring or fall

Holiday cactus flowers in spring or fall

I have photographed entire collections of succulents groiwng outside all year from Oklahoma City through Memphis to Atlanta, and in Amerstram and my own garden in Lancashire, in the northwest of England.

Hardy succulents in parking lot island at Memphis Botanic Garden

Oklahoma City Botanic Garden — Hardy succulents in parking lot island at Memphis Botanic Garden

Here, then, is my personal best starter species, my Durable Dozen – not counting their many species and cultivar variations:

Felder's hardy succulents garden, northern England — Felder’s hardy succulents garden, northern England

Shapes, textures, and colors in a cold-hardy succulent collection — Felder’s hardy succulents garden, northern England

Prickly and smooth pear cactus (Opuntia)
Agaves – the large Americana and several small species (A. lopantha, A. parryi)
Yuccas, esp. soft-tip (Y.recurvifolia) and beaked (Y.rostrata)
Sedums – several upright and many cascading species
Sempervivums (northern hens and chicks)
Graptopetalum (southern hens and chicks, ghost plant)
Hedgehog cactus (Echinocereus)
Small barrel cactus (Ferocactus)
Pincushion cactus (Mammilaria)
Red yucca (Hesperaloe parviflora)
Myrtle spurge (Euphorbia mysrinites)
Thistle cholla – Cylindropuntia

Sempervivums — Smooth (thornless) Opuntia

Companion plants for hardy cacti and succulents

Though some succulents are unique enough as standalone specimen, I usually mix and match just like with other plants. But I can’t resist “Feldering stuff up” with accessories to help interpret and carry my little vignettes: Bits of driftwood, a few stones, an old wagon wheel, a roll of rusty barbed wire, a glass ornament, or a low water feature.

And nearly any plant that tolerates intense light and sometimes-dry conditions is suitable to grow with and accent succulents. A few common companions that come to mind include ‘Tete a Tete’ and other winter daffodils, grape hyacinth, iris, ‘Powis Castle’ Artemisia, turk’s turban (Malvaviscus), super-dwarf nandinas, purple queen Tradescantia, dwarf Mexican petunia, moss rose, Texas sage shrub, and vitex for light mid-summer shade.

Bottom Line

I get inspiration from garden friends who put outdoor-hardy succulents and companion plants and little accessories together in rock gardens and whimsical containers (think red wagons, seashells, cups and saucers, dishpans, miniature village scenes, old boots…). All in all, cacti and succulents provide unique looks with little effort, and add a contemporary accent to nearly any garden, indoors or out, even if just as a tabletop conversation starter.

Oh, and did I mention that my longtime partner, who started out suspicious of my obsession with these botanical misfits, has become addicted to them, even giving up ice cream money at a flower show for one of her own? And later asking me to put together a bowlful for her mother’s birthday? It’s a well-drained slippery slope, sweetheart!

January 25, 2020January 25, 2020

Plant Swap Treasures – Memes of the Garden (with update from England)

Pssst! I got jewels of Opar and a string of pearls… wanna make a deal?

My garden is stuffed with hard-to-find plants that came to me with sweet folk names and back stories.Their charms have been spread over and under fences around the world, cutting across cultures and languages.

But worthy as they are, many are not easily found for sale – to get a start, you gotta have informal connections.

They are passed around like the simple string game which has no written instructions yet is known by children worldwide.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA — Simple and easily transferable

For decades, as the co-author of the Passalong Plants book, I’ve been overseeing small and large-scale plant swaps. Often there is little in common between participants except a love of plants.

True anecdote: Some years back the Pulitzer Prize winning author Eudora Welty told me over dinner that her mother “stopped going to her garden club meetings when they stopped swapping plants.”

But not to worry, thanks to folks with generous spirits, the tradition is alive and well at plant swaps around the world. I’m featuring just three here.

Felder at the first Flora Plant Swap, 1990

Continue reading “Plant Swap Treasures – Memes of the Garden (with update from England)”

November 29, 2019November 29, 2019

Mudding in Some Bulbs

Late Autumn, found some bulbs in a paper bag; gotta get ’em in the ground, wet or not. Gonna take longer to clean my boots than the planting did.

November 15, 2018February 15, 2025

Requiem for Cherished Crape Myrtles – updated 2-2021

OUCH! Say “G’bye” to one of the South’s most cherished landscape trees.

“You’re not gonna like any of this.”

In spite of their maybe being a tad overplanted, I love crape myrtles – the lilac of the South. I even made the trek to South Carolina to hug the oldest crape myrtle in North America, planted in 1786 by André Michaux at Middleton Place near Charlesto (see last photo). I don’t even have a problem with their being pollarded, which in Japan is a form of topiary called “fist pruning” (what some folks call “crape murder”), especially when gardeners like me weave the trimmings into wattle fences. For more insight on this check this blog post out.

TROUBLE IN EDEN

But just like whether to spell it “crape” or “crepe” or want to argue about pruning, they’re all moot points now, water under the bridge, as our beloved crape myrtles are being pushed out of the garden entirely by a new pest that is for all practical purposes uncontrollable. Get used to it.

This blog is about what the problem is, and what we can – or can’t – do about it.

SPOILER: YOU’RE NOT GONNA LIKE ANY OF THIS

Continue reading “Requiem for Cherished Crape Myrtles – updated 2-2021”

March 1, 2018March 2, 2018

Snowdrops, Snowflakes, WHATEVER

Most horti-holier-than-thou professional garden writers get a little peeved when people call plants by the wrong names, or downright irritated when Latin names are mispronounced. Doesn’t bother me at all, as long as we’re still communicating, talking about the same flower.

I mean, I have to switch back and forth every time I cross the Atlantic on how I say tomato (to-MAH-to), oregano (or-e-GAH-no), and ain’t (oops – no translation in the Queen’s English). I even switch hands when picking up my fork and knife.

Large cup or trumpet Narcissus — Narcissus… or Daffodil?

It isn’t about being ignorant, it’s called going vernacular. And it’s okay. Breathe in, breathe out.

When lecturing on the West Coast, Midwest, or New England I understand that when they say “hen and chicks” I know they’re referring to Sempervivums; in the South, hen and chicks are Graptopetalum. And though I grow dozens of different kinds, including some from my horticulturist great-grandmother’s garden, I’ve long since stopped arguing over the difference between Narcissus and daffodils (they’re the same; one is Latin, the other is folk name for English speakers. And don’t get me started over jonquils versus paperwhites!).

Graptopetalum Hen and Chicks

Sempervivum Hen and Chicks

Both Graptopetalum and Sempervivum are called “hens and chicks”

So I don’t get my shorts in a knot over all the different buttercups, zebra plants, or wandering Jews. Let’s quickly get onto the same page and move on with our talking about whatever it is.

Quick aside: My old friend Brent Heath, 3rd-generation bulb grower from Virginia, says there is nothing “common” about common plant names – they are really folk names.

All that said, I have to just ignore it when someone in Mississippi talks about their snowdrop bulbs, when they’re referring to snowflakes. The similar early-flowering bulbs are pretty closely related and are used the same ways in gardens, but are different enough to a make a point, if you feel the need. Sorta like how apples and pears are very close relatives, but not quite the same thing.

I’ve photographed early-flowering snowdrops (Galanthus) from coast to coast and all over England, including a fascinating personal tour by Lady Carolyne Elwes of her vast Galanthus collections at her Colebourne Estate halfway between Cirencester and Cheltenhamin in the heart the Cotswolds (here’s a nice link to a winter visit there). They’re pretty, and hardy, but they have poor to no tolerance for the hot, humid summers and mild winters of the lower and coastal South.

On the other hand, snowflakes (Leucojum) spread pretty rapidly from home gardens to roadsides and moist ditches, even in wet clay, and are among the earliest flowering bulbs even in Florida.

Rather than make your eyes bleed with unnecessary details (the petals are technically tepals, and, short of writing a book, there are too many species and cultivars to get into), here are two simple photographs. Look at them, and decide if yours is one or the other.

And call them what you want, as long as we’re admiring the same beautiful early flowers.

February 5, 2018February 6, 2018

African Plants in American Gardens

Portion of ancient tapestry in Accra, Ghana — Detail of a hand-painted fabric I photographed in Accra, Ghana

The climates of Africa range from hot, wet tropical rain forests bordered by vast savannas to mountains, large deserts, and a mild Mediterranean climate found on both the southern and northern tips of the continent.

Many of the African plants I enjoy in my garden are hardy herbaceous perennials and bulbs, but those unable to tolerate even mild frosts are simply grown as annuals planted from seed, or as favored potted specimen to be brought indoors in the winter.

Some I would have a hard time doing without – coffee and cotton come to mind – while others are cultural staples; what kinda Southern cook would I be without blackeye peas, okra, or fig preserves? Continue reading “African Plants in American Gardens”

January 13, 2018January 17, 2018

Winter Wonders

I’ve gardened in sunny South California, where weather reporters are all but unable to forecast anything out of the ordinary – there’s a joke in San Diego that seasons are more about whether or not it rains.

But for the past eight years of shuttling between my gardens in Mississippi and Lancashire, northern England, it seems to me that there are mainly two distinct seasons in the British Isles – a brilliant if cool summer with long, long days, and a seemingly never-ending wet, chilly winter, with fairly drawn-out segues of what pass for spring and fall.

My Mississippi garden, on the other hand, has five seasons, from a mild occasionally-frozen mid-winter through two nearly imperceptibly drawn-out and overlapping springs (early and late, with completely different sets of weather and flowers); a long, torrid, breathtakingly-humid summer with temperatures that remain warmer at night than England rarely ever even gets up to in the daytime; and a month or so of subtle changes in Autumn color.

No matter. There are countless combinations of evocative accessories to carry gardens in all climates through the changes of weather, and weather-tolerant plants to boot.

Continue reading “Winter Wonders”

January 3, 2018January 3, 2018

New Growth

small pineapple growing out of old pineapple New Growth from old… a pineapple plant sprouts a small new fruit from its faded flower stalk, which in turn will do the same the next year in a never-ending reincarnation…

December 3, 2017December 5, 2017

Poison Ivy and other Autumn Favs

Posion ivy has gorgeous fall colors — Poison ivy has among the most gorgeous fall colors

Autumn is a reflective time, a slow page-swipe from sultry, busy summer.

As the day length slowly dwindles and nights get cooler, fall wildflowers light up the countryside, and even poison ivy’s fall colors appear to be red and yellow flames licking up into trees. Where friends have patio fireplaces fueled from gas cannisters, my old iron fire bowl is the real deal, replete with smoke that takes me back to days far more ancient than my childhood.

Chores are more earnest now, with fallen leaves heaping everywhere in need of raking or blowing into a mounded kaleidoscope of colorful foliage.

They’ve been there all along, the sometimes-brilliant hues of Autumn. But as Summer wanes, green leaves of deciduous trees start shutting down, revealing the underlying blushes. Continue reading “Poison Ivy and other Autumn Favs”