I have grown two Deutzia, Nikko and Chardonnay Pearls. Yuki Snowflake is supposed to be an improved Nikko, with more flowers (I personally don't see how any more flowers would fit on my Nikko) and better form. I am happy with Nikko, but would have to see them side by side to see if I agree that it's an improvement. D. Chardonnay Pearls does have nice chartreusy spring foliage, but in its current spot of half day sun and then bright shade in my garden doesn't stay really bright all season, though it does stay less true green than many of the surrounding plants. It doesn't bloom quite as fully as Nikko. D. Cherry Blossom sounds nice, with same the same short stature and pink blossoms. Deutzia is in my opinion a one season shrub, with its full spring flowers, but is a small green blob the rest of the growing season and a fine-textured twiggy blob during winter. I am not sure if I would grow Deutzia if I had restricted space, but since that isn't an issue for me, it is a shrub I enjoy, is disease and insect free, and takes virtually no maintenance in my garden. It does suffer some tip dieback in years of less snow, so needs a bit of light pruning some years. I have grown several varieties of Sambucus, S. racemosa Sutherland Gold and S. nigra Black Lace, plus unnamed species plants of both. My Black Lace as well as both species have been healthy and trouble free in the two years I have had it. The jury is still out on Sutherland Gold. It came as a small mail order plant and isn't in an ideal spot, but it has survived so far in its two seasons in the yard. I have read that at least some of the yellow foliaged plants are somewhat less robust, but time will tell on mine. S. Lemon Lace is a new plant, so I think only folks who test plants will have grown it, but from reading it looks like it has a good chance to be a great plant. Here's S. Black Lace

There are two kinds of Agapanthus, evergreen leaved and deciduous. The varieties of agapanthus that lose their leaves and go dormant are completely winter hardy in the ground in zone 5. They need full sunshine, fertile well drained soil, and they like to be fertilized on a regular basis. Every once in a while the plants need to be dug up and divided because they tend to get "overgrown" and don't make flowers very well after 10 - 15 years of growing in the same spot. These are some of my agapanthus that have been growing in the ground outside in zone 5 for the last 40 years. They have been divided and replanted many times in that period. The temperature is 2 F outside today and the agapanthus are fine - they don't get mulched at all here but it wouldn't hurt them. It is a plant that is best put into the ground in the early part of the season so it has time to establish before the winter sets in. I wouldn't plant it out in the autumn. This agapanthus was grown from seeds someone gave me a million years ago - the picture is from last summer.

it was a spreading yew. about 6' across. came with the house. this was prompted by a design opportunity due to a neighboring shrubs death. I had an inkberry, viburnum and the yew across the back of the garage. The viburnum died so I thought it would be a good idea to have 3 inkberry's in a row. They would make a nice simple backdrop for busier smaller stuff in front of them and clematis trellises in back of them. Hope it works out that way! I also had to transplant two 3-year old inkberry's from another location! Oy, my aching back! I say go for it on the weigela... 15 years is plenty! Its like furniture...sometimes its just time to replace the couch when you are sick of it even if the springs are still good.

My garden is not your garden, and for that, you should be grateful. Any garden, yours or mine, begins not with the plants, but with the soil which dictates what plants will thrive, and what plants will eventually be pulled up and thrown away. My soil is sand. Not sandy, mind you, but deep, granular sand. Broken bits of pine straw from years of mulching infiltrate this sand several inches deep, along with leaf litter from the many overhanging oak trees. The microorganisms in the ground have been at work in my garden far longer than I have, and as a result of their endless task of digesting plant and animal residues, the sand has, in some places, where moisture from a coveted irrigation system aids their work, actually attained an appearance of soil. I am not fooled. Neither are the worms, which should abound in a proper garden, but forsake my ground for the amended beds next door. My garden is shady. I value the oaks more than the flowers that would replace them, and so I make do with foliage plants that are happy with the filtered light. A single clump of Evergreen Giant liriope, not a border or a mass, but a single clump, flourishes here. A vivid magenta cordyline called Red Sister lives in a blue ceramic pot smack dab in the middle of that shady bed, lending a surprise of color amidst the greenery. Seasonal color comes from the agapanthus, which I prize more for its elegant strap leaves than for its funny blue flowers, and more seasonal color comes from the beautiful firespike. The brilliant red flowers of the firespike are complimented by its large, glossy green leaves, and brighten a shade corner magnificently during the cool days of fall and winter. My garden is home to sago and coontie, both from the ancient family of cycads. House plants have settled into the garden as well, airplane plants and peace lilies and the occasional bromeliad, planted there in an effort to save them from my in-door negligence. My garden, whats left of it now, tolerates an occasional salt-water bath. Hurricane Dennis taught me an invaluable lesson in what to plant on a barrier island. Plants I thought would make it didnt, and plants I wouldnt have bet on came through without so much as a wilted leaf. A low bird bath sits among the foliage in my garden, outfitted with a fountain which drips fresh water into it every time the irrigation runs. The ground birds love this fountain especially, and I have spied the occasional butterfly perched there as well, sipping from the shallow cup. At the base of the bird bath, a miracle grows in the form of a maidenhair fern. This little beauty thrived before the hurricane, with its fine, black stems and delicate leaves. I relate ferns to deeply wooded glades and rich, humus soil, and the fact that this plant has been happy in my sand garden is, to me, a miracle. My garden is a work in progress, which is probably the definition of anyones garden. Life there begins with the microorganisms invisible to my eye, and is endless. It supports plants and birds and salamanders, and doesnt even mind an occasional visit from the dog. Instead of raking the leaves out, now, I rake them in, and cover them with more pine straw so they wont blow away. Someday, I am confident, I will turn over a shovel of sand to fit in another plant and find a worm in my garden. I live for the day. 603 words. Brief, I ain't.