The garden's backbone: flowering trees, native and rare shrubs, and evergreens that hold their shape through every season. Many are Southeastern natives; others are quiet collector's plants you won't find at a big-box nursery, chosen for resilience and lasting, year-round interest.
Calycanthus floridus 'Michael Lindsey' is the sweetshrub gardeners reach for when fragrance is the whole point. The species, Carolina allspice, is a southeastern native beloved for reddish-brown flowers that smell of ripe fruit, but the scent varies wildly from seedling to seedling, and 'Michael Lindsey' was chosen precisely for a rich, dependable perfume. Add glossy dark green foliage and clear golden fall color, and this selection has become a benchmark, one the plantsman Michael Dirr called the standard by which other introductions will be measured.
Calycanthus 'Venus' is a white-flowered sweetshrub bred by Dr. Tom Ranney at North Carolina State University, drawing on three species at once: the Eastern Carolina allspice (Calycanthus floridus), the California sweetshrub (Calycanthus occidentalis), and the Chinese sweetshrub (Calycanthus chinensis, long known as Sinocalycanthus). The result is a deciduous shrub that carries the best of all three: hardiness, substance, and an unusual flower.
Two camellias do most of the work in American gardens, Camellia japonica and Camellia sasanqua, in countless named forms. The Far East holds far more, and Woodlanders is among the few nurseries offering the lesser-known species to gardeners here. Camellia crapnelliana, the Crapnell camellia, is one of the most distinctive: a slow, upright evergreen first described from Hong Kong Island and named for the collector Crapnell.
Most gardeners who grow camellias know two of them. Camellia japonica opens in winter, C. sasanqua in autumn, and between the two a practiced collector can have flowers from October through March. What happens in April is generally someone else's problem.
Camellia fraterna is a camellia stripped back to wild beginnings, a species from the hills of eastern China far removed from the big, blowsy blooms of the garden japonicas and sasanquas. Where those carry a few large flowers, this one covers slender, upright branches in a snowfall of small, single, white flowers, faintly pink outside and softly fragrant, that arch the stems with their sheer number. The small, pointed evergreen leaves and open, airy habit give the plant an easy, natural grace.
Camellia gigantocarpa is a rare and remarkable species from the subtropical forests of southern China, first documented in the wild in the 1980s in Guangxi Province. The name says the essential thing: gigantocarpa, giant fruit. Where most camellias are grown for flowers, this species is prized above all for the great woody seed capsules that follow them, among the largest in the entire genus.
High in the shaded ravines of Hong Kong's Tai Mo Shan, a single camellia tree stood unrecognized until 1955, when the Agricultural, Fisheries and Conservation Department documented an unexpected beauty among the undergrowth. The botanist J. R. Sealy soon described a new species and named the tree Camellia granthamiana, honoring the then-Governor Sir Alexander Grantham.
'Julia Mackintosh' is a Woodlanders introduction with a family story behind the name. A chance Camellia sasanqua seedling that came up here at the nursery, the plant was selected and propagated by George Mitchell and named for the late Julia Mackintosh, who with her husband Robert founded Woodlanders. The parentage is unrecorded, though the flowers point to 'Leslie Ann', one of the nursery's long-time favorites, as the likely mother.
The United States National Arboretum in Washington, D.C. sits on 446 acres of rolling ground above the Anacostia River, a place where serious horticultural work has gone on quietly for the better part of a century. Camellia japonica 'Anacostia' takes both the name and the pedigree from that institution, selected at the Arboretum for cold hardiness and reliable performance at the northern edge of camellia country.
To see what a camellia can become when it is left happy for decades, look no farther than 'Greensboro Red'. At the original Woodlanders nursery site, this cultivar has grown into a remarkable hedgerow some fifteen feet tall over more than thirty years, a living reminder that camellias are not merely shrubs but legacy plants. Robert Mackintosh planted that first hedgerow in the early 1970s, from stock acquired at a small local nursery here in Aiken, South Carolina.
'Imura' is a refined white form of Camellia japonica, grown for elegant semi-double pure white flowers set against narrow, glossy evergreen leaves. The clean white bloom and slightly fine-textured foliage give the plant a quiet, luminous presence in shade, a contrast to the heavier reds and pinks that dominate the genus.
'Tama no ura' is among the most celebrated of all wild-found camellias, and the story is part of the plant. In 1947 a charcoal worker came upon a single old Camellia japonica, by repute some two hundred years old, growing deep in the forest near Tamanoura on Fukue Island in the Goto archipelago, off Nagasaki. The flowers stopped him: single, bright red, and edged crisply in white, a clean picotee never before recorded in the wild. Selected and propagated from that one tree, the camellia was exhibited in Nagasaki in 1973 and carried to America by Nuccio's Nursery in 1975.
Camellia 'Brian' is a handsome evergreen with showy, cyclamen-pink, semi-double flowers carried over a faint silvery cast, opening in late winter on a compact, upright frame. As best the nursery can determine, the plant is a Camellia reticulata by Camellia japonica hybrid, drawing the larger flower and silvered sheen of the reticulata side together with the hardiness and tidy habit of the japonicas.
Most American gardeners know two camellias, the winter-blooming Camellia japonica and the autumn-blooming Camellia sasanqua, each in a hundred named forms. Camellia longicarpa belongs to a different and far less familiar company: the small-flowered wild camellias of section Theopsis, scarcely grown on this side of the Pacific. Woodlanders remains one of the few nurseries offering these lesser-known species to gardeners who want the wild plant rather than the show cultivar.
Fragrance is the rarest thing in a camellia, and Camellia lutchuensis is the great exception, a species grown less for the size of the flower than for the scent that rises from it. The blooms are small, single, and white around a center of yellow stamens, carried in profusion on a twiggy, airy shrub, and they release a sweet, sometimes spicy perfume unusual in a genus famous for having almost none.
Three things to know about this camellia. First, the tea-oil camellia is the most economically important non-tea member of the genus. China has cultivated Camellia oleifera for over two thousand three hundred years for the oil pressed from the seeds, a light, sweetish, monounsaturated cooking oil chemically close to olive oil (around eighty percent oleic acid in both), used for cooking, traditional cosmetics, hair tonics, and the historic rust-proofing of Japanese woodworking tools and chef's knives. Tea oil sits with olive, palm, and coconut among the four major woody oil crops on Earth. This is a working tree.
Camellia rosaeflora is a graceful species camellia from China, one of the lesser-known kinds Woodlanders keeps in circulation for American gardeners. The habit is open and upright, the leaves small and fine for the genus, and in early spring the branches carry masses of small pink flowers, roughly an inch across and lightly double, in such profusion that the spent petals often fall to lay a soft pink carpet on the ground beneath.
Camellia saluenensis is not the flashiest camellia in the garden, but few have done more to shape the ones that are. This upright, densely leafy evergreen carries small, single, funnel-shaped flowers in soft pink, opening from late winter into spring, and stands as one of the two parents behind the celebrated Camellia williamsii hybrids that carried camellia growing into colder gardens.
Two Hall of Fame inductions hang on Leslie Ann's lineage, though neither is for a flower. The award stamped on her record, the Ralph Peer Sasanqua Award, carries the name of the man who in 1923 hauled recording equipment south to Atlanta and captured the first commercial sides of country and blues. Ralph Peer pioneered field recording and sits in both the Country Music Hall of Fame and the Blues Hall of Fame, then turned that same restless curatorial instinct on camellias late in life, founding the Los Angeles Camellia Society in 1948 and rising to president of the American Camellia Society by 1957. The man who recorded the Carter Family also decided which sasanquas deserved to be remembered. In 1961, one of them was this one.
'Misty Moon' is a relatively new selection of the favorite fall-blooming sasanqua, an upright, bushy evergreen carrying large, rounded, single to semi-double flowers in a soft lavender-pink with gently wavy petals. The fading flowers do something unusual, taking on a cool grayish-blue cast before the petals drop, the detail that earns the name. Woodlanders has grown 'Misty Moon' in the ground for many years here in Aiken, and the old-nursery specimen has become a real showstopper just as the rest of the garden winds down for the year.
