Rescuing forlorn plants is an obsession with just about every gardener I know — from the $1 rack in the big box garden centers to the mistreated exterior displays at grocery stores. I could not resist a gangling, dry, starving fuchsia on the sale rack outside my local grocer two weeks ago.
It was crying for help.
This plant was wilted, leggy and lethargic yet still trying to bloom. It did its best to create long branches and small blooms, giving testimony to its hardy nature. It needed lots of help. Just like most Americans coping with today’s pandemic.
This weekend we remember all who have died in the struggle against COVID-19.
The fuchsia plant (Fuchsia triphylla) is a shrub discovered by a French monk in Hispaniola in 1697 and named after the German botanist Leonhart Fuchs, affirming its immigrant ancestry. Native to Central and South America, it loves humidity, just the right amount of fast draining water and thrives in full to part shade to part sun. This makes it a perfect planter specimen for Dallas’ humid May through mid September weather.
It can survive as a perennial in zone 10 and as a tender perennial in zones 6-9 where it must be moved indoors for winter or it will freeze. It will not survive dry heat.
Fuchsia blooms only on new growth, making it hungry all the time from early spring to mid fall here in Dallas, TX. It likes to be moist but not wet and needs a watered down-to-1/4th jolt of liquid fertilizer (20-20-20) every 8 days to two weeks during the growing season for best blooms. Being rootbound helps make bigger blooms for a while. Being completely restricted in too small a container does not. Fuchsia needs to be pruned AND partially rootbound to force more flowers. Key to this dilemma is drainage.
When this fuchsia first came home, it lived in a shady spot with bright indirect light out of the wind (important). Soil in the pot was dry. I watered fully with reduced strength fertilizer and discovered there was only minimal drainage — first sign of trouble. I let it acclimate, untouched, for 10 days. The plant browned and wilted faster. I considered potting-up but didn’t have an 18” planter. This must have been a commercial planting from last year (or even the year before) that was so root bound it was unable to drain easily or absorb nutrients. I made the critical decision to divide and prune with the understanding that it could kill the plant altogether.
Sometimes a gardener needs blind faith and courage.
I severely pruned all the crossing branches or blooming branches that had re-rooted; kept several new growth leaves; next, got the plant out of the pot. It took quite a bit of rough manhandling to free these nascent pygmalions from their tiny house. As I expected, my reward was a “three-fer.” Commercial nurseries and most home gardeners plant 3 starts per 12” hanging basket to increase the number of flowers.
The plants were crammed into the pot. Their hefty roots were totally entangled. The potting medium felt like heavy, dense over-watered peat moss and resisted mightily when separating the roots — even with a knife. They needed room to grow.
Severely pruned fuchsia reveals 3 plants.
Next: separate/divide the plants and trim the roots:
Fuchsia with loosened and trimmed roots
I repotted each clump into a 12” planter; shattered clay pot pieces or cut-up coffee filters were used to partially restrict drainage to prevent early loss of planting medium. All can be pushed back into the bottom of pot if drainage gets blocked.
Finished rescue #1.
Finished rescue #2
Finished rescue #3
I lightly watered and fertilized each transplant. They need to settle and recover. Eight weeks of waiting will tell whether the rescues are successful and may possibly bloom. They will be part of the autumn plant migration into the house in November. Next year, these three plants should be large, healthy and blooming. For now, they rest in an east facing area around my fountain to insure some morning sun, plentiful humidity, and are out of the wind. Hope springs eternal.
* * * * * * * * *
My next project was pruning/potting white epiphyllum hookeri and Queen of the Night epi oxypetalum. I’ve had the hookeries for more than a decade and the oxypetalum for several years. Oxypetalum is called Queen of the Night; my plant looked like Queen of the Dead. It was my fault both were terribly mistreated this winter — not enough water and too much sun. Merry Light sent me starts from her red epi last year. They got stuck in a pot to root along with broken branches of oxypetalum. Time to separate. Epiphyllum, like fuchsia, blooms the best when rootbound.
Each node (points on the leaves) can produce a stem or a flower..
Messy, unpruned Queen of the night; misshapen, yellow and screaming for help!
Pruned (hanging) Queen of the Night; epi hookeri nursery below. Lightly fertilized. Morning sun, out of wind.
Oldest white epi hookeri before pruning the dry leaves and stalk in front; more in back. Yearly pruning keeps the plant growing upward. Epis put out roots from broken leaves and will climb the fence if allowed. Epi’s are ‘tree huggers,’ meaning they grow on trees and get their nutrients from tropical air and water. It’s wonderful to watch until the plants need to be torn off the fence to be moved inside.
Merry Light’s epiphyllum starts are happily growing!!
* * * * * * *
Around the back garden
Jewels of Opar
Flowers for 3 seasons: Jewels of Opar, flame acanthus, canna lilies and asters.
Nandina domestica in bloom; to the left of the canna/flame acanthus/aster mound.
Hardy Texas star hibiscus grew 12” in a week — lots of rain.
White easter lilies. (The nut sedge and bindweed have been weeded).
From the butterfly garden:
Butterfly garden: bee balm, yarrow, fennel, tickseed, pincushion flower, gregg’s blue mist flower
Gregg’s blue mist flower
Coreopsis (tickseed); yarrow and rudbeckia
Blue salvia
What’s happening in your garden? A gardener’s purview is large.
Plantings? Removals? Veggies? Flowers? Weeds? Trees? Wildlife? Domestic pets? Hardscape work? Rain? Drought? Hot? Cold?
I recently read an interesting/disturbing article online about green algae growing on the snow in Antarctica. Read here.
Life began in a garden.
