Acer fabri, known as Faber's maple or emerald jade maple, is a small evergreen to semi-evergreen tree of rounded habit whose slender, prominently veined, pointed leaves are entirely unlobed; few would guess the plant for a maple until the winged seeds appear. The new growth flushes a fine copper red, and the samaras ripen red as well before fading to brownish yellow in late summer, so the tree carries color without depending on the usual autumn display.
Few trees carry a collector's story as plainly as the paperbark maple. Ernest Henry Wilson gathered seed of Acer griseum in central China in 1901 for the Veitch nursery, and for most of the twentieth century nearly every paperbark grown in Western gardens traced back to that introduction and one that followed. The maple sets abundant winged samaras, yet most are empty, a parthenocarpic habit that leaves only a small fraction viable. That quirk is why the species has always been scarce, slow to propagate, and quietly treasured wherever a good specimen takes hold.
Among the snakebark maples, Acer micranthum ranks with the most delicate, a small, sometimes shrubby tree from the mountains of Honshu, Kyushu, and Shikoku, where the Japanese know the plant as the Komine maple. The species has no settled English name, and that quiet anonymity suits a tree grown for refinement rather than show. James Harris, in The Gardener's Guide to Growing Maples, calls this "a very elegant maple with attractive autumn tints," and Bluebell Nursery in Britain describes "a rare and sought after species ... a very striking garden plant with a lovely habit and an excellent choice for glorious autumn color," adding that established specimens carry eye-catching bark.
Acer oliverianum, the Oliver maple, carries the look of a Japanese maple on a tougher frame. Named for Daniel Oliver, the Victorian Kew botanist, this small Chinese and Taiwanese tree wears smooth jade green bark finely lined with white, and palmate, five-lobed leaves so like Acer palmatum that the two are easily confused. The difference shows in the constitution: the Oliver maple takes more heat and more drought than the Japanese maples, a welcome trait for warmer gardens that long for that filigree foliage.
Acer rubrum 'Candy Ice' is a Woodlanders introduction, found in southwest Virginia by the late Norman Beal. We use Norman's original name, though the same tree has been circulated elsewhere as 'Snowfire'. This is an unusual variegated red maple, the leaves marbled in pink, white, and green, and the foliage burns early, among the first to color when fall arrives.
Acer truncatum, the Shantung or Purpleblow maple, is a tough, tidy small tree from northern China and Korea, where the straight base of the leaf, truncate rather than heart-shaped, hands the species a botanical name. Glossy leaves emerge with a reddish purple flush in spring, mature to deep green, and close the year in shades of yellow, orange, red, and sometimes purple. Clusters of bright yellow flowers open with the new leaves in May, an uncommon sight among maples and one reason gardeners seek the tree out.
The genus Aconitum runs to well over a hundred species, the monkshoods and wolfsbanes, named for the hooded upper sepal that arches over each flower like a cowl. These plants were grown from seed collected by Frank Bell in Yunnan, China, and remain, as yet, indistinguishable from the other species Woodlanders lists; the true name waits on a flowering season and a careful eye. What can be said is that this is a Chinese monkshood, a clump-forming perennial of cool mountain ground, carrying the family's hooded, typically blue to violet flowers on upright stems in summer.
Aconitum uncinatum, the southern blue monkshood, is an uncommon and long-lived native of the eastern United States, scattered through the Appalachians and Piedmont in rich, moist woods, along streambanks, and in cool seeps. The slender stems ascend and lean, sometimes weakly climbing to several feet, carrying lobed leaves and, in late summer into fall, terminal racemes of medium blue, hooded flowers held on long stalks. The cowl-shaped upper sepal gives the monkshoods their name, and few native wildflowers match this clean, late-season blue.
White baneberry earns the better-known name doll's eyes from the fruit: in late summer each white, pea-sized berry carries a single dark stigma scar, set on a thickened, coral-red stalk, so a whole cluster seems to stare back. A clump-forming native perennial of rich eastern woodlands, Actaea pachypoda opens fluffy white racemes above divided foliage in late spring, then trades flowers for that startling, long-lasting fruit display.
Hardiness
Zones 3–7
Light
Part Shade / Full Shade
Height
1–3 ft.
Spread
2–3 ft.
Bloom
White
Plant type
Perennial
Traditional use
pain relief, respiratory support, reproductive health
Actinidia latifolia is a little-known kiwi relative, a vigorous, high-climbing deciduous vine from the warm forests of southern and southeastern China, Taiwan, and Southeast Asia. The broad leaves, four to five inches long and roughly two wide, carry an unusual metallic sheen that catches the light, and twining stems can climb to twenty feet or more given room and a sturdy support.
The southern maidenhair has a way of choosing impossible places. Look for this fern on a shaded limestone bluff where water seeps through the rock, or in the spray zone of a spring-fed creek, and you will likely find the fronds growing sideways out of a crevice as if that were the most natural thing in the world. The wiry black stems hold up fan-shaped pinnules so thin they seem almost translucent in morning light, and the whole plant trembles at the slightest breath of air. Few native ferns carry this much delicacy with so little fuss.
Maidenhairs take their English name from their stems, those fine black wiry stalks like strands of dark hair, and their Latin name from a quieter trick. Adiantum comes from the Greek adiantos, the unwetted one, because water will not cling to the fronds. Hold a maidenhair under a running tap and the frond comes out dry, the droplets beading and rolling off a surface built to refuse them. That is the sort of small marvel ferns keep to themselves until you go looking. This particular maidenhair breaks the family mold in one telling way. Where the rest are a byword for fragility, all lace and apology, the rosy maidenhair is faintly hairy and unbothered. Run a fingertip up the stipe and you will feel the bristles that named the fern: hispidulum, minutely hairy, set down by the Swedish botanist Olof Swartz in 1802.
In the cool hush of shaded woods, Adiantum pedatum rises on slender, glossy black stems that hold the lacy green fronds in flattened semicircles, each a hand-turned fan or horseshoe of finely cut segments. Standing twelve to thirty inches tall, the northern maidenhair forms serene clumps that spread slowly on creeping rhizomes, never in a hurry. In early spring the fiddleheads emerge a rosy to burgundy hue and uncurl into the distinctive bird's-foot, palmately branched leaves that give the fern such grace.
A medium-sized evergreen shrub still little known in cultivation, Adina pilulifera carries small, glossy leaves and, in midsummer, round white flower heads about an inch across, each bristling with protruding styles like a tiny Sputnik. The effect is curious and charming, a pincushion of white set among shining foliage, and the evergreen habit earns the shrub a place where the deciduous buttonbushes leave a winter gap.
A medium to large deciduous shrub closely related to the native buttonbush, Adina rubella wears smaller leaves and bears similar but daintier flowers: round, scented heads of pale pink and white, each bristling with styles into a small Sputnik, carried over a long season from early summer well into fall. The pincushion blooms draw bees and butterflies just as the buttonbushes do, and an open, arching habit gives the shrub a fine-textured grace.
A rare dwarf form of the Ohio buckeye, Aesculus glabra var. nana was found in just a few places in the hills of northern Alabama and northern Georgia, far south of the species' usual range. Where the typical Ohio buckeye climbs to thirty feet or more, this dwarf settles into a rounded shrub of about six feet, carrying the same handsome palmate leaves divided into finger-like leaflets that flush early and color in fall.
In July, when most of the shade garden has settled into a holding pattern of foliage and waiting, Aesculus parviflora opens for business. The timing is the first surprise. The flowers are the second. Each panicle is a foot or more of tightly packed white tubular blooms with conspicuous pink-red anthers projecting beyond the petals, the whole spike held upright above the foliage like something assembled by a botanical committee that could not decide between elegant and extravagant and chose both. A mature colony in full bloom in midsummer is among the more spectacular events available to the shade gardener, and the hummingbirds and swallowtails arrive reliably.
A wide-spreading, suckering, multi-stemmed deciduous shrub of slow, deliberate growth, Aesculus parviflora var. serotina carries the same upright white bottlebrush flowers as the bottlebrush buckeye, but opens them two to three weeks later, well into the heat of summer. The overall shape is irregular and almost stratified, the branches layering horizontally, and the medium to dark green leaves turn a clear yellow in fall.
The red buckeye is the South's hummingbird herald, a clump-forming, round-topped deciduous shrub or small tree whose lustrous, palmately compound leaves break very early, often before the last frosts, and whose six-inch panicles of tubular scarlet-red flowers open in spring just as the ruby-throated hummingbirds return north. The bright bloom, unusual among the buckeyes, draws hummingbirds and bees in numbers and gives the plant a long place in the affection of native-plant gardeners across the southern United States.
A low, often half-prostrate form of the red buckeye, Aesculus pavia var. humilis keeps to a small, spreading shrub where the typical red buckeye grows into a small tree. The scarlet spring flowers come in smaller panicles, and in every other respect the plant follows the species: lustrous palmate leaves that break early, a love of moist, well-drained woodland soil, and the same magnetism for returning hummingbirds.
