Kousa Dogwoods


Cornus kousa, or kousa dogwood, has an impressive list of outstanding characteristics.  Since few properties are large enough for an arboretum, choices have to be made. Trees with year round interest draw my attention.  The kousa dogwood has outstanding exfoliating bark when it is of sufficient age.  Like the sycamore or London plane, a old kousa dogwood will randomly shed bark, revealing new bark of a paler color, from underneath.  As a result, an old trunk is multi-colored, and highly textural.  As much as I like bark, I like the kousa dogwood.  This tree furthermore sets brilliant red fruit in September.  That shiny fire engine red is my idea of fall fireworks.  


Notice I have made no mention of the beautiful white flowers that mature in my yard in June.  In a good year, those flowers may last 3 weeks; my gardening season lasts 7-8 months. I need more interest than what great flowers provide before I am moved to dig the the hole required to plant a tree.  Even my beloved magnolias whose bloom is so fleeting have great bark and branching, and large luscious leaves all season.  A long season of interest-I look for this. My Kousa dogwoods are next to invisible after they bloom.  You can only spot it in this picture, as the leaves are beginning to turn. 

Their green leaves fire up slowly, come the beginning of fall.  The contrast of that red, and that green is riveting.  The shape of the leaves and the pattern of the veins are never more showy than they are in September.  The changing of the guard from the summer foliage to the fall display is an event I follow closely.   

The late September Kousa color is peach; that peach will deepen and mature.  I do not know the science well enough to state the evolution of the color depends on night temperatures that are steadily dropping.  So many times I research my instincts about nature to find out my notions have no basis in fact.  Suffice it to say, the fall color on the kousa changes dramatically over the course of the fall.

I have four kousa dogwoods on the north side of my house.  All four have grown steadily over the past 15 years.  This kousa planted at the front corner of my Romeo and Juliet balcony has grown such that the branches have come up and over the deck; they are at my eye level now.  One branch of that dogwood grows over the driveway far below.  I never notice that branch until the fall colors up the leaves. The garage lights make those leaves glow an orangy red. 

The vibrant red kousa leaves, underpainted and glowing from inside with that early orangy peach color, are the star of my north side garden show for weeks. The fall is all about the evolution of the leaves.  How they grow and photosynthesize over the summer, then turn, how they fade-how they drop-a gorgeous visual lesson in the process that is nature.  The process I am writing about takes the better part of 3 months.  That three month spectacular leaf turn and drop makes a kousa dogwood a tree I would not do without.
There comes that brief time when the red leaves of my dogwoods are just about as intense as the red fruit. That spectacular fall color is one of many reasons why a Kousa dogwood is worth any gardener’s consideration.  I have considered no end of plants for my own garden, and for the gardens of clients.  Decisions get made; trees get planted and take hold.  A good choice matters much. 

A tree is one of nature’s biggest plants.  I think about every tree I plant, and its location, long and hard-given the space it will occupy, and what conditions on the ground it will influence.  I additionally hope any tree I plant will outlive me. That given, I choose which tree for where with great care.  Today I am delighted to have a foursome of Kousa dogwoods thriving in my garden.  Their fall leaves in color delights me.  The summer season has no end of visual delight.  I have three other seasons besides the summer; I have interest in some off-season delight. 


That congested thicket of red-orange kousa leaves peak, thin, and fall.  Those last few dogwood leaves holding on today speak eloquently to the end of the season.  Consider cornus kousa for your garden.  Should you already have one, consider more.  The fall color-enjoy every bit of it.

What’s Possible.

Some things happen very slowly in a garden.  I once scarified some gingko tree seeds, stratified them in my refrigerator for 10 weeks, and planted them out in pots in the spring-with the help of a parent. I probably was 11. Who knows how long it was before I could plant the seedling in the ground-it could be my Mom did that part for me.  5 years ago I went to see the house where I grew up-that gingko tree had become a substantial tree.  Last year I made another visit-the gingko had been cut down.  45 years to grow a substantial and handsome tree from seed.  Other things happen very fast in a garden; I am sure it took less that four hours to get that gingko down and hauled away.  A vision of a climbing rose redolent and weighted down with thousands of blooms in June takes years to realize.  It takes plenty of additional time to feed and prune, deal with the blackspot and the Japanese beetles, encouraging a plant to stay the course long enough to make that vision a reality.  A tomato seed can become a ten foot tall rangy plant loaded with fruit in the blink of a season.  For a gardener, a season is a measure of time.  Not short, but not very long either.  It seems like my coleus just got good when it started dropping leaves from cold.

A landscape or garden plan can slowly consume what seems like an endless amount of time. Any amount of time accompanied by the wringing of hands and indecision can becomes an interminably long slow time. One can stubbornly hold out for the perfect plan, and suddenly find themselves out of time-I am a guilty party in this regard.  I had the good sense to plant some small evergreens, thinking it would buy me some time to get the rest of a scheme together.  At fifty I awoke from my working every waking moment stupor to maturing evergreens and weeds in their early twenties; obviously my time to make the garden of my dreams was running out. I needed to step on the gas.

When I design for a client, my first act is to stew.  I stew over what a client has told me about what they would like to see happen.  I stew even more over the site plan or mortgage survey.  The stewing takes a lot more time, compared to the drawing.  Once I sit down to draw, I have an idea in mind-a concept.  The drawing has to work within the confines of a lot of givens.  The lot lines.  The physical distance from the home to the street.  The location of the driveway may or may not be a given.  In the drawing stage, I see how much more time it will take to make what I conceptualize work. The drawing goes slow at first. Maybe the concept doesn’t work very well at all; it takes strength to ignore the clock and start over.  Should everything be working, the drawing goes fast.

Once a design is in place and set to go, slow sets in like the project is coming down with a cold.  Projects need to be organized, and staged.  Plant material needs to be located and shipped.  The stone mason needs to see the job and quote the work, and set a tentative date to start. There is a chain of events which is bound to get tangled up.  A client approaching me in September about a project needing to be finished the following June-one would think that would be enough time for just about anything.  The project will finally get underway Monday October 18, some 48 days post the decision to proceed.  Who knows what lies ahead that could slow things down even further.

Pine Knot Farms is one of my favorite sources for hellebores.  I was looking at the plants I bought from them two years ago just the other day.  I am hoping this coming spring I will see my first flowers.  Nothing happens very fast with baby hellebores.  I have a fruiting olive tree in a pot which spends the winter in the green house; it has not grown an inch in the past two years-well maybe, an inch.  What the hold up is, I have no idea.  Neither a garden nor a landscape happens overnight.

But plenty can happen overnight.  A client may have a garden that needs a new dress and a good hair do in time for an unexpected event.  A tree can be blown over, or struck by lightening; I have had both of these things happen. Some people fall in love with gardening very fast, and fall out of love even faster.  Some warm up to the idea very slowly, and then presto- the warm feeling becomes a fire burning.  All manner of circumstances can change in an instant.  It is easy to recognize an instant when it happens.  It is harder to keep that possibility in mind every day, and garden accordingly.

At A Glance: A Last Look

Fall Plantings

My fall is in full swing; it was cold and blustery all day today.  I come to work sporting at least 3 layers.  My office door at home is open all evening so the corgis can come and go as they please-not tonight.  Too cold.  The leaves are starting to turn color in earnest; the lindens at the shop are so beautiful this time of year, dressed all in that intense citron shade of yellow.

I have written before about how limited a fall plant palette can be.  But in fact, limitations can spark some some imaginative solutions.  There are times when I have so many choices that all the time I spend so much time considering the options makes what I eventually choose looks exhausted-this would be a spring scenario.  These fall pots have the expected yellow and orange pansies, but get their volume from birch twigs and preserved eucalyptus. Not all natural materials have roots, and need water.        

Ornamental cabbage and kale, and pansies are fall staples.  But who wants to look at staples? My farmer’s market has no end of natural materials-the bittersweet and pumpkins in this window box add so much to the cabbage and pansies.  One of my most favorite fall materials-romanesco broccoli.  The lime green florets are of an astonishing configuration; the swirling leaves add a little sass to any staple fare. I have placed these broccoli heads in pots, and used then as finials on fence posts.  What is your idea?   


Broom corn is just that-a plant which when harvested can provide material for brooms.  The fresh stems at market are beautiful and colorful, and you can be assured they will last the entire fall. I am crazy for tuscan kale and ornamental cabbage, but this fountain of broom corn in the center makes the whole arrangement look like a substantial celebration of fall.  

Dusty miller is an underused plant for fall pots.  It regularly survives the winter in my zone.  The silver color is great in the fall-but should you not have access to tall plants, your pots could get a big leg up from some preserved  spiral eucalyptus. Though not one bit hardy in my zone, eucalyptus takes well to preserving, and color.  The dusty miller and pansies in these pots get a big dose of emphasis from a central mass of eucalyptus preserved and dusted with white.     

I have no objection to a fall planting that makes much of the fruits of the harvest, or other natural materials.  My fall season is short, and brusque.  This means that I do not object to materials for fall pots that do not have roots-I actually welcome the diversity they represent. The creeping jenny in these pumpkin pots had beeen there all seaason-I saved  them.  Creating a fall planting from 4 great pumpkins with outstanding stems, and loads of mini pumpkins and gourds was great fun. A container whose surface is planted flat with mixed pansies does not entertain my eye nearly as much as this does.  

Gardeners need some entertainment in the fall.  The closing of the season is not my favorite time.  I am cutting back, cleaning out, and cleaning up. Some fall containers with great color and texture can make the changing of the seasons a little less distressing. 

These antique urns flanking the front door of the shop have not one thing in them with roots. White glazed birch branches and preserved green eucalyptus are a centerpiece for a collection of green and white gourds. This “planting” celebrates the end of the season.  I hate to give air time to my disappointment that the season is changing, and moving towards winter.  I would rather do my best to create a little excitement about the moment.  


Those of you who live in temperate climates-I do not envy you.  I truly like the end of a season as much as I like the beginning.  I like being limited, and challenged. This is part of what is the great fun-should you decide to be a northern gardener.