Here is a photo gallery of this year’s 12 new clematis varieties. You can find descriptions of them in the Climbers section of the catalog (336K pdf).

Begonias are probably best known for their great performance in shade. Some of the new varieties at this year’s sale add glowing color to shady containers or beds, while others are better for sun or part sun locations. One of our new plants is even appropriate for use as a Bonsai plant!

Angel Wing ‘Bonfire’ Bonfire produces profuse red-orange blooms and attractive serrated foliage. It’s wonderful cascading over a wall or window box. Angel Wing begonias are known for their leaf shapes. They are good candidates for use as a houseplant during the winter. Sun or part sun. 12-15″

Anthole We don’t know why it’s called Anthole, and we’re not sure if it’s ant - hole or an - thol - ee, but we’re sure it’s got large, textured, velvety red leaves and dainty white flowers. Good for overwintering indoors. Part shade or shade. 12″

Fuchsia Begonia, Begonia fuchsiodes ‘Pink’ Gently arching over the sides of a container or basket, its leaves and stems have a succulent appearance. Dark fuchsia-pink buds open to trailing pink single flowers. Part shade or shade. 10-14″

Orange, Begonia sutherlandii Tuberous plant with lance-shaped, bright green, red-veined leaves and showy orange flowers. Sun or part sun.

Tuberous ‘Mocha Orange’ Different from our other tuberous begonias because it has deep chocolate-bronze foliage. Double orange flowers. Sun, part sun, or shade. 8-12″

Photos courtesy of Rush Creek Growers or Blue Bird Nursery.

or Why I am learning some scientific names for my plants…

1. Because I already have a head start.

Look at all the Latin names for plants I knew and knew how to pronounce without even trying! You probably know them too:

Asparagus • Aster • Astilbe • Begonia • Cactus • Canna • Chrysanthemum • Cosmos • Crocus • Delphinium • Eucalyptus • Fuchsia • Ginkgo • Hibiscus • Hosta • Hydrangea • Iris • Juniper • Magnolia • Petunia • Phlox • Rhododendron • Verbena • Vinca • Wisteria • Yucca • Zinnia

2. Because common names can cause confusion.

Real, old-fashioned common names like “Love-lies-bleeding” or “Jack in the Pulpit” or “Naked Ladies” are wonderful, but I found that common names can make trouble for gardeners. For instance, “Flowering Maple” is not a maple. “Butter and Eggs” could be a buttercup or a poppy or a pretty little yellow roadside weed. “Bluebell,” “Coneflower,” and “Ice Plant” all mean different plants to different people. And Lily-of-the-Valley, Daylily, Peruvian Lily, Torch Lily, and Lily of the Nile are all not Lilies at all.

The Latin name doesn’t matter if you simply want to buy a nice-looking plant, read its care label, and put it in your garden.  But I discovered that when I wanted to find, learn about or recommend a particular plant, knowing the botanical names really helped. Also, some of the flowers I was interested in are so uncommon or so newly discovered that they don’t even have common names although some plant catalogs are happy to invent some.

3. Because I found out a little about what a Latin name really is and what it could tell me.

Then the names started to seem a little less like weird-looking scientific gobbledygook. It was like knowing a secret code.

In the 18th century, Carl von Linne (who even Latinized his own name to “Linnaeus” ) pioneered the use of the two-name system for naming plants. The idea was to make an interest in plants easier for us ( not harder!) because each plant would have its own two-part name that was the same all over the world. The first part of the name, always capitalized, is for the genus such as Sanvitalia, the name for Creeping Zinnia (which is not a Zinnia….) There are lots of different Sanvitalias. The second part of the name, not capitalized, is for the species, which narrows it down to one particular kind of Sanvitalia. An example is the second part of Creeping Zinnia’s name, procumbens (meaning “falling forward” which is exactly what it does.)  Then, if the plant has been bred so that it is different enough from others in its species, it gets a third name too, a cultivar name (short for “cultivated variety,”) usually inside single quotations marks and capitalized. For example, one cultivar of Creeping Zinnia is ‘Aztec Gold.’ Cultivar names can be anything the plant breeder or plant breeder’s boss wants to enrich our lives with, such as the rose called ‘Tipsy Imperial Concubine’ or the Flowering Tobacco (Nicotiana) called ‘Only the Lonely.’

4. Because knowing Latin names can be useful, fun, and satisfying.

The meaning of the Latin name itself can tell you useful things about the plant. If a Latin name includes pumila or nana, for instance, then you know that this plant is the dwarf version. If you are interested in knowing more about what the names mean, see the Roots of Botanical Names page on the Garden Gate website.

Whether it is useful or not, many people enjoy decoding the names .  Isn’t it just more fun than actually helpful to know that the Latin name for the cute little English Lawn Daisy (what those English people have instead of dandelions), Bellis perennis, means…“pretty perennial”? Or that the African Daisy Osteospermum is from the Greek for “bone seed” because its seeds are so hard? Or that if part of a plant’s name is “odoratus” then some part of it smells? Or that Impatiens actually does mean “impatience” because its seedpods burst open when lightly touched? It can also simply be fun to say the entire Latin name of a plant, such as Ziziphora clinopodioides (Persian Wild Thyme) or Sporobolus heterolepsis (the grass Northern Dropseed.)

When my teenager was four years old and going through the dinosaur phase, he was possessed by knowing all the long, complicated names of more than a hundred dinosaurs. It was much more than fun for him. This knowledge clearly gave him a feeling of immense magical power over the giant beasts: “Ha! I know YOUR name!” It is true that knowing BOTH the common and Latin names of my flowers does give me a greater feeling of control over my garden that is beyond what is purely practical.

5. Because no ancient Roman guy in a toga is ever going to correct my use of a plant’s name or snicker at my pronunciation. 

I realize that this is an odd reason. But for people like me with “speaking a foreign language anxiety” (xenoglossophobia,) it helps to know that the Latin used in botanical Latin is not a real living language with native speakers to be confused and annoyed, but an artificial written language.

Many of the names are not even really Latin anyway. How could there be a real ancient Roman name for a South American or Japanese plant?  There are only a few real Latin names, such as Asarum which is the real Latin word for wild ginger. A “Latin” name for a plant is usually just a more recent Latinized version of a person’s name (Drummondii) or a place (canadensis from North America) or one characteristic of the plant ( maculata, meaning spotted or zebrinus meaning striped.)  Some of the worst Latin names to pronounce can’t really be blamed on “Latin,” such as Ligularia przewalskii, because the difficult second word is based on a Russian guy’s last name (sha-VAL-skee-eye.). And sometimes it’s a pseudo-Latin Greek word or a name from another language,  like Ginkgo  which is the Chinese word for…a ginkgo tree. In fact, what we commonly call the “Latin” name of a plant is such a tossed salad of different languages that the preferred term is “botanical name.”

6. Because even around a modern horticultural expert (not in a toga) there’s still no need to feel “pronunciation anxiety.”

There are several reasons for this. Some of these names are so ridiculous that even plant experts stumble over them and laugh. Coleus, for instance, is Solenostemon scutellarioides. Other names break the various rules of Latin pronunciation, for instance everybody says  Forsythia instead of “for – SIGH – thee-a” in honor of Mr. Forsythe. And still others cause disagreements among horticultural experts.  Is Heuchera  pronounced “HOY-ker-ah” or “HOO-ker-ah” or “HEW-ker-a”?  And is it “Cactuses” or “Cacti” ?  Is Clematis “KLEM-ah-tiss” or “klem-AT-iss” ? There are also some supposedly correct pronunciations that I have never once heard any plant expert use such as “FEWK-see-ah” for Fuchsia!   Some pronunciations have been grandfathered in and it seems too late to try to correct them. Allen Armitage advises us just to “fire away and try to get the number of syllables right.” 

How did I (mostly) get over the possible embarrassment of making a mistake with a Latin name in front of a more experienced gardener or plant expert? So far, I haven’t encountered even one serious know-it-all, only plant nerds trying to be helpful and tolerant. And if I did, I would remind myself that it is never dumb to be learning something new!

7. Because I discovered that there is help out there!
 
The Botanary section of Dave’s Garden allows you to search on most names you would encounter.

Fine Gardening magazine has a fine plant names pronunciation guide page where you can even click on a name and hear it said for you. 

I have looked at mind-boggling lists of the rules of botanical Latin pronunciation and finally gave up. There are a few rules of thumb that did seem helpful:

• Just sounding out each of the syllables is often easier than it looks at first.
• Consonants tend to be hard and vowels tend to be long.
• If the word is based on a person’s name, say the name as close as you can manage to the original person’s name and then add on the Latin ending (however, there are many exceptions, especially with older plant names.)
• If you have to guess where the emphasis is in the plant’s name, try the third to the last syllable, although it is often also on the second to the last syllable.
• An unfamiliar name will often sound like a name that you know, so that if you know AgaPANthus, you can figure out PlecTRANthus. You will find that English and American gardening sources sometimes disagree on emphasis.

8. Because there’s no law that I must learn every Latin name if I just want to use a few.

In fact, for most of us, it would just seem pretentious to do so. In England, even children’s books apparently use the scientific names of plants, but in the U.S. it does not seem at all strange for gardeners to use a mixture of common and Latin names. For me, it would be ridiculous to say Lycopersicon esculentum instead of “Tomato”  or even the shorter Alcea instead of “Hollyhock.”  I use whatever name is most familiar to me and to the person I’m talking with.

If you are the kind of gardener who reads gardening books and catalogs, goes to lectures or your garden club, watches gardening T.V. shows (even the bad ones!), and hangs out with other gardeners, you will just absorb the plant names, both common and Latin, that are usually used.

For instance, some plants do not have a genuine old-fashioned common name, but only a recently invented name. (Good luck trying to track down what a plant really is from a catalog photo labeled only “Tinkerbells” !) Such a name is simple English but cannot really be called a “common” name because it would not be familiar to most people, especially since I just made it up. So I found that it is useful to stick with the Latin names, even if they seem less friendly at first. Some plant names in this category would be:

Anemone • Caladium • Clivia • Coreopsis • Gazania • Gerbera • Lantana • Ligularia • Sedum • Plectranthus • Ageratum • Browalia • Caladium • Echeveria • Weigela • Veronica

Others plants do have a common name but, as far as I can tell, the Latin one is actually more widely used, such as Pachysandra instead of Japanese Spurge.  Here’s a short list of such names with their generally accepted pronunciations from the Fine Gardening pronunciation guide:

• Allium (AL-lee-um ) for Ornamental Onion
• Helenium (heh-LEEN-ee-um) for Sneezeweed
• Penstemon  (PEN-steh-mon) for Beardtongue
• Rudbeckia  (rud-BECK-ee-ah) for Black-Eyed Susan
• Crocosmia (krow-KOZ-mee-ah) for Falling Stars
• Carex (KARE-ecks) for Sedge
• Cleome (klee-OH-mee) for Spiderflower
• Euphorbia (yew-FOR-bee-ah) for Spurge
• Geum (JEE-um) for Avens
• Monarda (mo-NAR-dah) for Bee Balm
• Campanula (kam-PAN-yew-luh) for Bellflower
• Gaillardia (gay-LARD-ee-ah) for Blanket Flower
• Ajuga (ah-JEW-gah) for Bugleweed
• Nepeta (NEP-eh-tah) for Catmint
• Echinacea (eh-kih-NAY-shah) for Coneflower
• Verbascum (ver-BASS-kum) for Mullein
• Agapanthus (ag-ah-PAN-thus) for Lily of the Nile
• Osteospermum (oss-tee-oh-SPERM-um) for Sun or African Daisy
• Verbena bonariensis (ver-BEEN-ah  boh-nar-ee-EN-sis) for Brazilian Verbena
• Epimedium (eh-pih-MEE-dee-um) for Barrenwort
• Heuchera (HEW-ker-ah) for Coral Bells
• Alternanthera (all-ter-NAN-ther-ah) for Joseph’s Coat and its many relatives
• Eryngium (air-ING-ee-um) for Sea Holly or Rattlesnake Master
• Achillea (uh-KILL-ee-uh) for Yarrow
• Liatris (lee-AT-triss) for Blazing Star

Other plants with Latin names more common than their common names have more controversial pronunciations. I have avoided saying these for years! Here are the Fine Gardening versions followed by other versions that seem to be also accepted.

• Nicotiana (nih-koe-shee-AY-nah) (nih-ko-she-AH-nuh or ni-KO-she-AN-uh) for Flowering Tobacco
• Cuphea (KOO-fee-ah) (KYOO-fee-uh) for Bat Face
• Agastache (ag-ah-STACK-ee) (uh-GOSS-tuh-kee or uh-GAS-tuh-kee) for Hummingbird Mint or Hyssop
• Kniphofia (ny-FOE-fee-ah) (nip-HOFF-ee-uh or nip-HOH-fee-uh) for Red Hot Poker

The Friends School Plant Sale would love to hear your thoughts about using botanical Latin, your favorite examples of unpronounceable or interesting Latin names, or your experiences with pronunciation.

Happy 300th Birthday, Linnaeus!

Plant Sale shopper Nancy Hokkanen of Bloomington sent us a description of her cart:

“For several years I shopped the plant sale pulling a folding aluminum two-wheeled cart from a thrift store. It had enough space to hold two stackable plastic crates. I put the short, bushy plants in the bottom crate and let the tall plants overflow from the top crate.

“I also brought several wooden clementine boxes–great when six-packs have been broken, and can be turned upside down to protect plants underneath and create another stacking level.

“The vertical cart left more walking space for people around me, and I didn’t have to worry about others tripping over a long wagon handle on the ground. It could easily be pulled with one hand.”

Thanks, Nancy! If you want to share your cart inspirations, email them to info@friendsschoolplantsale.com, or add a comment to this post.

I just noticed that two Twin Cities bloggers/gardeners have linked to the Plant Sale site:

So Many Books has a funny take about reading the catalog, which just arrived in the mail on April 2. It was a little strange for me, reading about someone reading a publication you (I) produced.

Stuccohouse has four years’ worth of entries about visits to the sale. I could identify with the earlier post that told how Stuccohouse went to the Plant Sale the first time (before we moved to the State Fair Grandstand) and was a bit overwhelmed–I did that, too, back in 1998!

Stuccohouse and So Many Books, it was fun to read what you think of us.