By Bob Osborne, Cornhill Nursery

Outside my door are horticultural treasures the world has never seen. I am not talking about garden treasures gathered from the hidden valleys of China or the slopes of the Andes. Rather, I am talking about plants that grow in my woods and fields. They are individual specimens of local trees and shrubs that await discovery.

     No one in the horticultural trades can escape the newfound enthusiasm for native plants. The realization that our obsession with exotic species has made us overlook the wondrous plants growing in our woodlots awakens in many of us. Not only are these plants valuable from an aesthetic point of view; but the propagation and planting of these species help in the regeneration of our native habitats, and also help to create landscapes that, with due respect to each species' needs, are more likely to withstand the pressures of climate, insects and disease. Being a propagator, however, I revel in the search for individuals - varieties of our native species with special characteristics that give them outstanding horticultural value.

     Consider the white and black spruces that constitute a major portion of our conifer populations in Atlantic Canada. The white spruce (Picea glauca) can tolerate the most bitterly cold, windy sites. The black spruce (Picea mariana) is particularly useful for those damp cool soils that are so hostile to most conifers. Let's expand our horizons a bit and imagine how valuable it would be to have forms available that were more dwarf or exhibit unusual branching habits. We have a wealth of such forms in the exotic species such as the Norway spruce or the Colorado spruce, but very few unique forms of the native spruces. We walk or drive by such varieties every day. We need to nurture a desire to discover them. I am lucky enough to be surrounded by woods, fields, hedgerows and swamps that give me access to many different habitats and species. Within easy walking distance, I have found several interesting forms of spruce. In one hedgerow, I found a slow growing conical white spruce with small needles. The tree is far tighter than the species, forming a plant selection that may be useful in areas where there is only room for a three- to four-metre tree.

     A tall black spruce stands in the swamp behind one of our fields. On top of this spruce is a 1.5-metre ball of tightly congested branches, known as a witch's broom. These mutations occur when the apical point of a tree, or one of its branches, is genetically altered so that the usual hormonal balance that controls branching is changed and many closely spaced branchlets appear, creating a shrub-like offshoot. Cuttings from these brooms can be rooted or grafted to produce slow growing evergreens of great value. Interestingly, a portion of the seedlings from such brooms, usually about 50 per cent, will be similar to the parent. Many a new dwarf conifer has been produced in this manner.

     Another witch's broom that may have similar value grew about 20 metres high on a larch tree (Larix laricina). After a harrowing climb up this tree, which I would not recommend to anyone other than a fool like me (or a telephone repairman), I was able to throw a few cuttings down to my waiting son. We are now growing this unusual larch in hopes that, like the dwarf black spruce, it will give us a unique specimen for damp gardens.

     Still another broom was discovered on a jack pine (Pinus banksiana). This small gem has tiny twisted needles and its form is a wonderful marriage of roundness and kinkiness. Here is a plant for an infertile and dry site, as this is where the jack pine occurs naturally.

     Not all of our finds are evergreens. Not 40 metres from my daughter's house is a most unusual moosewood (Viburnum alnifolium). These understorey plants have large leaves and produce clusters of white flowers in spring, which ripen into purple berries in fall. An evening walk turned into an event when she discovered one of these plants had deep pink blossoms. In all our walks through the woods we had never run across such an aberration, yet here, just beyond our backyard, grew such a plant. It makes you realize that in the millions of hectares of woodland, many such plants must exist, perhaps with deeper pink or even yellow blooms.

     In describing a few of our local finds, I am in no way inferring that these particular plants have great merit. Their worth to the horticultural trade will take many years to evaluate. What I am trying to do is to encourage those whose minds run in such unorthodox directions to take a new and discerning look at the great Canadian wilderness.

     I hear many say that native plants are boring. Dispel that notion forever. We have an opportunity to create an entirely new catalogue of plants, native and unique to Canada. We must take up the challenge to find weeping sugar maples with blinding fall colour, to discover alternate leaved dogwoods with immense flower clusters, to propagate butternuts with thin shells or mountain ash with red flowers. These plants exist. We must make it our passion to find them and share them with the world.