What's the Name of that Plant?

Plants are all identified at Sunrise Greenhouse, Grant Park, IL
I chose my first car because it was cute. Honestly--it was a lemon-yellow 1972 VW Beetle. Even the salesman tried to talk me out of it. "It's a repo," he told me, as if a 19 year-old would understand what that meant.

I learned the significance after I got home with my new car. There was a hole in the gas tank, which was located at the front of the car so that gasoline dripped on the floor beneath the dashboard.

Cute, huh?
There were other issues. The defroster didn't work, both headlights flickered, and the wires to the turn signals were crossed, confusing both me and anyone on the road who tried to guess which way I was going. I learned quickly the meaning and consequences of owning a repo.

Less expensive perhaps, but just as frustrating, is learning the limitations of anything else purchased solely for its cuteness quotient. I buy a lot of plants, many of which catch my eye with their unique beauty, and in some cases, their cuteness.

I make it a point to support independent garden centers, and have been buying quite a bit from mega-garden-centers within a two hour drive from my house. So far, these businesses have had a nice variety, carry plants you don't often see either at the big box stores or smaller garden centers, and (usually) good prices. One of my favorites for their prices and quality has been Sunrise Greenhouse in Grant Park, IL.

Another of my favorites is Vite Greenhouse in Niles, MI, which is currently running neck and neck with one other fairly close garden center, and vying for Michigan favorite.
River Street Flowerland

I fell so much in love with River Street Flowerland in Kalamazoo, Michigan that I visited it twice in one season, the second time with my equally plant-enamored neighbor, Lesley. Even though it was late June, we came close to filling my car. They had a sale on nearly all of their annuals, and I had a few dollars worth of coupons from my previous visit.

All in all, I was extremely pleased with the variety of plants and the prices. Until I picked up this little clay pot with no label.
Mystery plant turned out to be Ledebouria.
It was the only one left, and its price was steep, especially for an unidentified plant. I took it to the young lady at the register, who was about to tell me it was a houseplant. I said, "I'd really like to know what it is so that I can care for it properly." The girl at the register called another young lady who was caring for the plants. She didn't know but said she would ask. She eventually came back and told me it was a Squill.

The Squill ID at least pointed me in the right direction. I knew it was tropical, and that it was a bulb that is possibly in the Scilla family. I learned that it is a South African false scilla of the genus Ledebouria, that blooms in summer.

In case you hadn't noticed, I'm extremely anal and organized when it comes to my plants. I keep a Word document on my computer with the names of all of the plants I buy, dating back to 1996. Sometimes, with just one name to go by, I find the exact plant either in a book or online in order to learn how to care for it and what to expect.
Plectranthus 'Mona Lavender' has flowers that create a color echo of the tiny Viola below it.

My husband still laughs about an incident at a garden center when the cashier had the nerve to identify a potted mystery I wanted to purchase as a "houseplant." He said I gave her a look that could have curdled milk, before I told her I needed to know genus and species or I wouldn't buy it.

Labels don't have to be fancy.
I was pretty sure I knew what it was--a somewhat overbaked Plectranthus 'Mona Lavender'. Its coloration was all wrong, owing, I guessed, to its placement in full sun. I wanted corroboration, though, to be sure I knew what I was getting. The cashier called over another young lady who seemed to know more. She doggedly traveled down the rows to find the answer, and finally located another one with a label, verifying its ID as 'Mona Lavender'.

No one argues that we should get what we pay for, but is it really too much to ask that we know what we pay for? In a world where it's vital to know the serial number of each tiny part of a phone or computer accessory, I wonder why we don't demand the name of the plant growing inside a pot at a garden center.

I keep hearing that Millenials don't care what a plant is called. They just buy it, take it home and incorporate it into their decor. But what if they want to buy another one? Or it dies and they want to replace it?

Finding unlabeled or mis-labeled plants is nothing new. It's not that big a deal if it's obviously a petunia or a pansy, but with the more unusual plants, there is more at stake--they're usually more pricey and harder to find.

Here's a label that does it all, including identifying the plant.
Anyone who somehow benefits from selling plants should also consider themselves to be in the education business, at least peripherally. There is nothing to lose and everything to gain by the simple labeling of plants. How else can a satisfied plant buyer post a photo with the name of where it came from on their Instagram, Pinterest, Facebook, or Snapchat pages?

Comments

  1. Jean, I thought you lived over the pond...like in England or someplace like that. Here you are talking about buying plants in Michigan. Where are you really?

    ReplyDelete

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