Tag Archives: white

The Elusive ‘Kintzley’s Ghost’ Honeysuckle

12 Nov

I am lucky in that I have a neighbor who loves plants and gardening as much (if not more) than I do. She has a number of unusual plants in her garden, but one of my favorites is a vine I have never seen anywhere else. Nor had I ever heard of it before, either: a “Kintzley’s Ghost” honeysuckle (Lonicera reticulata). And doubly lucky for me, it grows against the fence between our two houses, so I get to see it in all its glory.

This photo was taken at the end of May. Its tubular yellow flowers are quite pretty and though they are slightly fragrant, they don’t have that full honeysuckle aroma. What sets “Kintzley’s Ghost” apart, though, are the circular bracts surrounding those flowers. Bracts are modified leaves; in this case, the circular bracts are different from the plant’s other, more usual-looking leaves. Since bracts often help play a reproductive role, perhaps these round bracts serve as a sort of bullseye, drawing pollinators’ attention to the center of the circles, where the flowers are, and later, drawing birds’ attention to where the berries have developed. Butterflies and hummingbirds are among the “Kintzley’s Ghost” many admirers, as are humans.

Not only are the bracts eye catching because of their shape, but also because they taken on a silvery-white cast that reminds some people of a Silver Dollar eucalyptus. Because of this coloration, the vine has been described as being “a galaxy of full moons” when it is in its silvery phase later in the season. Unfortunately I don’t have a photo of the full galaxy, just a couple moons (first photo below, taken in October). Eventually, the silvery-white green color gives way to yellow as winter approaches (second photo below).

There is a bit of mystery to the history of this heirloom native honeysuckle, which adds to its allure. It was propagated in the 1880s by William Kintzley, who worked in the greenhouses at Iowa State University, but it was never released commercially. Instead, Mr. Kintzley gave cuttings of the vine to family members. Over time, the plant dropped out of other people’s sight and minds. It was rediscovered in 2001, when someone from a local nursery in Fort Collins, Colorado saw the masses of yellow flowers and round bracts down a side street. As the story goes, he walked up to the house to ask about this very unusual honeysuckle vine and found himself speaking with the elderly grandson of William Kintzley.

The vine is now offered for sale, but can be hard to find. My neighbor was visiting a nursery in Wisconsin about five years ago, when she, too, was mesmerized by her first sight of a mature “Kintzley’s Ghost” vine growing up a barn at the nursery; they can get up to 12 feet high. She bought a small 8-inch clipping and brought it home; it clearly likes the mini ecosystem between our two houses, because it is now more than 8 feet tall.

In general, this honeysuckle variety is pretty happy-go-lucky. It will grow in almost any soil as long as it is relatively moist. And it is very cold tolerant; “Kintzley’s Ghost” is hardy to Zone 4 in the United States, which means it can tolerate temperatures as low as -30°F (-34.4°C). Since it is a vine, it needs some structural support such as a trellis, fence, or wall.

Should you be lucky enough to find one and to be able to grow it in your region, you will be forever grateful–as I am to my neighbor who shares it with me.

How to Eat a Cherimoya (Chirimoya)

15 Apr

It’s really simple–cut it in half, and eat it with a spoon. That’s how my Bolivian grandmother (who adored this creamy Andean fruit) ate it–delicately scooping out the seeds she encountered, and then savoring small spoonfuls of the custard-like flesh. I also love cherimoyas (or as I grew up calling them: chirimoyas), though I only ever ate them in Bolivia as they were impossible to find in the United States. But that has been changing, to the point that last week, they appeared  in the “exotic” fruit section of my local grocery store. What a treat! I took some home, let them soften up a bit (they should be quite soft to the touch, but not completely mushy), and then dug in. Yum…. Mark Twain considered cherimoyas the most delicious fruit ever (having tasted them in Hawaii, after they were introduced there via Spain and Portugal)–and I’d have to agree. But don’t be tempted to bite into a seed; the insides are toxic.

This fruit is also known as a Custard Apple, and I get the “custard” part, but can’t figure out the “apple” part; perhaps it’s due to the shape? Because a cherimoya doesn’t taste anything like an apple. What it does taste like is an entire tropical fruit salad pureed into a silky, sweet, tangy custard. It’s a vitamin-rich (B6 and C) dessert in its own green cup. One day I may be tempted to make a cherimoya flan, or some cherimoya ice cream, or perhaps a cherimoya smoothie, but it’s hard to mess with perfection. Really, all you need is a spoon.

  

Red, White, and Blue 2014

4 Jul

A few photos for US Independence Day. Red: Costus woodsonii (Indian Head Ginger) and Hibiscus. White: Cornus kousa (Kousa Dogwood). Blue: Echium candicans (Pride of Madeira) and Iris reticulata (Dwarf Dutch Iris).

  

   

Troopers in the Autumn Garden

23 Nov

I have sadly neglected the garden. I’d like to blame it on work and family obligations, but the real reason is that I find the autumn clean-up far less satisfying than the spring clean-up. In the spring, when I gather up the detritus from winter, I am delighted to see tiny new shoots pushing through the earth underneath. I love seeing new buds unfurling. The atmosphere in the garden is of one of eager anticipation. The prep work then is like priming a canvas before painting in order to set the stage for a masterpiece to emerge. It is a fantasy, I admit–but in June, when viewed at just the right angle in just the right light by someone who is squinting slightly, the garden does look somewhat like an Impressionist work of art.

In the autumn, the garden is a much sorrier sight (well, my garden is). And the clean-up then feels more like chore than delight. But there is no camouflage in the winter, so if anything, making sure the garden looks neat and tidy is even more important. So what did I do today? Did I spend hours pruning, deadheading, weeding, or transplanting? No, I procrastinated–I took photos of the few remaining spots of color and bits of interest, telling myself tomorrow is another day.

Here are a few autumnal troopers: Echinacea ‘Southern Belle,’ a Montauk Daisy featuring a slightly lethargic bee, and Hidcote Lavender. Plus, something to look forward to: buds on Witch Hazel ‘Birgit,’ ready to burst forth very early next year for some welcome late-winter color.