A Tale of Two Seasons

John Friel

CHRISTMAS: Then & Now
When Joel Robert Poinsett, Ambassador to Mexico, introduced Euphorbia pulcherrima to the U.S. in 1825, it was the beginning of the end for all other potted Christmas decorations. But the eponymous poinsettia didn’t always define the holiday.
 
My first employer in this business grew tens of thousands of Jerusalem cherries, Solanum pseudocapsicum, a holiday decoration since Colonial times. In 1918, The Flower Grower magazine called it an “old and desirable holiday pot plant.” It’s easy to produce; a Zone 8 perennial, it can be grown from seed with minimal protection.
 
Why did they fall out of favor? Well, unlike the falsely accused poinsettia, the Jerusalem cherry actually IS toxic. As the genus name reveals, it’s a deadly nightshade family member. It can make you ill, not dead, but even that possibility is a deal breaker in these litigious times.
 
The problem with poinsettias is, of course, that they’re such a commodity, they don’t fetch much money anymore. Many growers dropped them because they found they were just trading dollars or worse.
 
Maybe it’s time for a new Christmas plant. Helleborus niger comes to mind; it blooms at the right time, if not quite in the right colors, and there’s that toxicity hang up. In the garden, it’s what you wish Bambi would eat.
 
Christmas cactus (Schlumbergera) has its fans, but lacks the dense, lush look we’ve programmed consumers to want.
 
Coleus? I mean, plectranthus? Yes, the taxonomists have changed the name again. But by any name, I really don’t like them.
 
Ornamental peppers, the real capsicum? Hot hot hot! And they need lots of light.
 
Perhaps another historic favorite deserves a new look: begonia. Once upon a time the Christmas Begonia, B. cheimantha, was a big seller until powdery mildew did it in. But the genus holds many more options whose flowers and/or foliage flaunt the hues we’ve come to expect in poinsettia.
 
Terra Nova Nurseries’ Ruby Slippers might work. I’m in the perennial business, so they’re the only begonia breeder I know, but you probably know others. Clue me in.
 
TRADE SHOWS: So Long, 2015
To my puzzlement, fairy gardens keep growing in popularity.  Miniatures are big. The appeal is lost on me, but “cynical Boomer” isn’t their target demographic.
 
If you’ve got children or grandchildren to amuse, maybe they’re the gateway drug to a lifetime of real gardening. And I’ll happily sell compact plants that fit the format: Creeping Sedum and phlox, Ajuga Chocolate Chip, leptinella, armeria, etc.
 
At our last trade show, numerous vendors were hawking tiny containers and wee, twee figurines. One displayed hundreds of fairies, gnomes, castles, cottages and such, massed like adorable little armies brandishing toxic levels of concentrated cuteness.
 
There were so many I asked if they were glued to their backdrop, to be rolled and stowed as one. Nope. Each minuscule unit was meticulously hand-placed, to be picked up the same tedious way at show’s end.
 
If you’ve worked a trade show, you’ve experienced last-day breakdown syndrome. As hordes of sales reps flee their self-imposed entrapment, a contagious frenzy takes over. Even if you have no plane to catch, you catch it. Booth décor manufacturers understand this mania: their best sellers are pull-up windowshade banners and collapsible backdrops.
 
So while all around him others furled, cased and rolled their stuff out in a matter of minutes, here was this poor guy plucking and packing his miniatures, bit by bit, fairy by fairy, toadstool by turret.
 
Perhaps he turned it into a Zen exercise and zoned out ’til it was done. But I bet he doesn’t have a miniature garden at home. GP