977 plants in this collection
The native fothergillas were choice but scarcely available garden shrubs when Woodlanders first began to offer them back in 1980. This one, a hybrid of Fothergilla gardenii and F. major, was found by Dr. Michael Dirr at the Mt. Airy Arboretum in Cincinnati, Ohio, and has since become the most widely grown fothergilla of all, and deservedly so.
'Sea Spray' has long traveled under the name Fothergilla major, a tidy assumption the botanists have since complicated. Run through a flow cytometer, the plant turns out to be a hybrid, F. × intermedia, the meeting of mountain witch-alder (F. major) and the dwarf coastal F. gardenii, the little shrub Charleston's Alexander Garden sent across to England in the 1760s, in a genus already named for John Fothergill, the London physician who tried to grow half of America in a single garden. All of which makes the name, for once, honest. Most Sea Spray christenings are wishful; this one actually carries the coast in the blood.
Fothergilla gardenii is a small deciduous shrub, usually three to four feet tall, and a native of the southeastern coastal plain, where the plant haunts moist, peaty pinelands and bogs. A member of the witch-hazel family, Hamamelidaceae, and a close cousin of the witch-hazels themselves, dwarf fothergilla shares the family gift for honey-scented late-winter and spring bloom on bare or barely-leafed stems.
The native fothergillas were choice but scarcely available garden shrubs when Woodlanders first began to offer them in 1980, and mountain witch alder is the largest and, to our eye, the best of them. Fothergilla major makes a rounded deciduous shrub of six to eight feet, slow and dense, and gives two distinct performances a year. In April the bare or barely-leafing branches carry upright white bottlebrushes, an inch or two long, made not of petals but of crowded stamens with pale yellow anthers, and they carry a honeyed scent that reaches further than the flowers look able to manage. In October the blue-green leaves turn all at once to orange, scarlet and yellow, often several colors on a single leaf.
This is the wild strawberry of eastern North America, Fragaria virginiana, the modest little groundcover that carpets sunny woodland edges, old fields, and roadside banks across the continent. Trifoliate, serrated leaves rise in low tufts, and slender runners reach out to root new plantlets at their tips, so that a single crown becomes a colony in a season or two.
Few plants carry a story like the Franklin tree. Collected from the banks of the Altamaha River in Georgia by John and William Bartram in the 1760s and named by them for their friend Benjamin Franklin, Franklinia alatamaha was last seen growing wild around 1803 and has never been found in nature since. Every Franklinia alive today, in every garden and arboretum on earth, descends from the seed the Bartrams carried home to Philadelphia. To grow one is to hold a living piece of that lineage.
The gardenia needs no introduction in the South; the scent alone has been stopping people in driveways for generations. What 'Chuck Hayes' adds to that old story is nerve in the cold. The line traces back to the late 1970s and a Virginia Beach nurseryman named Charlie Hayes, who noticed a single-flowered gardenia that had come through a brutal freeze unbothered. He crossed that survivor with a double-flowered plant and handed the seedlings to Dan Milbocker, a horticulturist at the Hampton Roads research station, who grew them out, picked the toughest, and eventually released the plant under Hayes's name. The result is a fully double, classically fragrant gardenia that behaves as a far more delicate shrub has no right to.
'Kleim's Hardy' is a small, mounding evergreen gardenia with lustrous black-green leaves and single, star-shaped ivory flowers, and one of the most cold-tolerant gardenias in the trade. Where most gardenias pile petal on petal, this one opens flat and simple, five or six broad ivory petals flaring around a boss of creamy-yellow stamens, and carries the same heavy, sweet perfume in a lighter, cleaner frame.
The gardenia needs little introduction to a Southern gardener: glossy evergreen leaves and thick, waxen, intensely fragrant flowers that perfume a whole summer evening. This selection, grown simply as the Yellow gardenia, adds a twist, for the blooms open creamy white and deepen with age to a rich butter-yellow, so a single shrub can carry both colors at once against the dark foliage.
'Daruma' is a compact, dwarf gardenia, a dense little evergreen that holds a tidy dome the year round and fits the tight corners where a full-sized gardenia would crowd. The name recalls the round, weighted Daruma dolls of Japan, and the plant keeps a similarly rounded, low habit that needs almost no shaping.
This striking, rather upright gardenia is a Woodlanders introduction that has since become more widely available, grown less for bloom than for the boldly marked leaves. Each glossy leaf is splashed and margined in strong yellow, so the whole shrub reads as a soft fountain of gold and green, a rare thing among broadleaf evergreens and a bright note for a shaded corner.
Every collection has its unnamed treasures, and this gardenia is one of ours: a plant grown from seed gathered on Emei Shan, the great sacred mountain of Sichuan in southwestern China. The species has not been pinned down, but the plant is unmistakably a gardenia, upright in habit and clothed in long, narrow, glossy dark green leaves quite unlike the broad foliage of the common Cape jasmine.
Gelsemium rankinii is one of the South's gentler mysteries, a twining, semi-evergreen vine that has long threaded through the quiet wetlands and river margins of the Gulf Coast. Where other vines sprawl boldly, the swamp jessamine moves with a kind of restraint, weaving through shrubs and small trees on glossy, fine-textured foliage, with a poise born of deep, humid landscapes.
Carolina jessamine is the twining gold of the Southern spring, native to the southern United States and honored as the state flower of South Carolina. An evergreen vine of easy grace, the plant clothes a fence or trellis in glossy, narrow leaves and, as winter loosens, opens a wash of fragrant yellow trumpets that scent the whole garden.
'Pride of Augusta' is the old double-flowered Carolina jessamine, a twining evergreen vine that turns the familiar Southern gold into something fuller and more lavish. Where the wild species opens simple funnels, this selection packs each bloom with extra petals, so the vine carries a long, generous show of ruffled, double yellow flowers, sweetly fragrant, from late winter into early spring.
Carolina jessamine is the state flower of South Carolina and one of the most beloved evergreen vines of the South, prized for the wash of fragrant yellow trumpets that opens the gardening year. 'Margarita' is the cold-hardy answer to that beauty, a selection that carries the same sweet-scented gold well north of where the species usually gives out.
In the dappled understory of the Eastern woods, Geranium maculatum has made a home for as long as the forests have stood. Known to generations as wild geranium or cranesbill, this native perennial forms a tidy clump of softly lobed leaves and lifts loose sprays of rose-purple, five-petaled flowers, as much a part of the old spring landscape as dogwood and trillium.
Glyptostrobus pensilis, the Chinese swamp cypress, is a living fossil and one of the rarest conifers on earth, the last surviving species of an ancient lineage that once ringed the Northern Hemisphere. A deciduous conifer of the cypress family, the swamp cypress is a near-twin of the American baldcypress, sharing the same feathery, soft green foliage, the same love of standing water, and even the same habit of throwing up woody knees from the roots in wet ground. In autumn the foliage turns a warm bronze-red before falling.
Read the full plant profile, with design and field notes, on our blog.
Some plants elevate the familiar into the extraordinary, and Gordonia lasianthus 'Variegata' does exactly that, taking the quiet majesty of the native loblolly bay and dressing it in a silken fringe of cream. The glossy green leaves are edged in irregular strokes of ivory, as though touched by the brush of some moonlit painter in the pine woods, and the whole shrub glimmers softly through every season.
