reslider, Your link doesn't work for me. I always test links in this forum's "Preview Message" before doing a "Submit Message". It would be better if we continued this dialog over in the current part of this message thread, because this part has become long and slow to load. You can "wade through" this message thread by going to the Part 2 link that I gave above, and then continue following the links until you get to the bottom of Part 5, or you can now just skip to It can be fun to bred your own zinnias - Part 5. But, reslider, please let's not continue here. This part is too old and too long. See you over in Part 5. Just click on the underlined Part 5 link I gave above. And, if you have the patience, just read Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4, but please don't post messages in them. Post your next message in Part 5. Incidentally, we probably will be opening up a Part 6 in a day or two, because Part 5 is also getting long and unwieldy. MM

Thanks for such a well-written explanation! I purchased viburnum trilobum compactum plants from Forestfarm several years ago-- and although they survived for ten years or longer, they never did anything. Now I understand why they never produced fruit . . . but actually, they barely even bloomed! I finally gave up and pulled them out this spring. Very disappointing. As to why plants of different provenance bloom at different times even if they are of the same species, maybe you could think of it this way: every species has some genetic variability within the species. A group of specimens growing in a certain area would tend to produce seedlings that bloomed at several different times. However, the seedlings that bloomed at the best time for that location would have a natural advantage over the seedlings that bloomed a little too early, or a little too late. Therefore, by natural selection, the bloom time that is best for the area would eventually become the most commonly found genetically-programmed bloom time amongst plants in that area. In other words, the gene pool of seedlings in that location would have been narrowed. Similarly, seedlings from a different part of the country would slowly narrow their genetic pool to reflect whatever bloom time is best for their location. When you then order plants from the two different locations, even though you are now growing them in identical conditions, their bloom times will continue to be influenced by their genetic programming as well as their current growing conditions-- and this will be true for as long as those two plants live, even if they are growing side-by-side. Does that make sense? I realize that I'm not explaining it very clearly. :( (Maybe another way to understand it is to think about humans: we are all one species, but we look a lot different according to our ethnic backgrounds because when groups of people were isolated geographically from other groups, an unusual or recessive trait-- red hair, for example-- had the opportunity of becoming very common within that specific isolated population.)

Callistemon viminalis can be grown from seed. It is not a hybrid nor a cultivar of an upright bottlebrush which would necessitate asexual propagation. However! If you see an individual C. verminalis that you really admire, it's best to take cuttings and make clones rather than rely on the genetic blueprint in each seed. Of course, it can be rewarding to experiment.

"And plants can be a named cultivar without being patented." This was kind of my point. There had been for over a hundred years before the craze of patenting really took hold in the 1990s. Classic varieties like the pastel Chrysanthemum 'Mary Stoker' moved from producer to producer and slowly acquired the reputation they have as time-tested varieties. If 'Mary Stoker' had been patented, it's possible the original producer would have thought after a couple years "OK, people are tired of Mary Stocker, we better start offering the brighter more saturated 'Mary's Daughter'" and the better plant would have been lost to commerce eventually. I was using a bit of hyperbole to say it is ruining horticulture, but I don't think it's a good trend, overall. Nurseries that grow their own plants on a purely ad hoc basis (i.e. and e.g., don't have any patented varieties...think the former Seneca Hill Perennials) tend to struggle anyhow. It's not like they were really posing a threat to huge mega producers like Sunny Border, Monrovia, etc. A lot of those producers breed their own plants. So the only ones they have to worry about poaching their strains is another large wholesaler. But somehow this didn't affect the industry as a whole until about 1990. (there were patented varieties before then but it was very uncommon) As for the species vs. cultivar debate, I do think it's valid to bring that up too. I like to have a mix of species and cultivars. A garden entirely of flashy cultivars would not be to my liking. In the world of rhododendrons, for example, people like Frank Fujioka and Jim Barlup have bred utterly amazing looking plants, but if you know rhododendrons, you wouldn't think in a million years that nature could have produced something similar. So, I see such plants as more of a accent to have here and there. I'd say in my perennial bed I only have a few plants that are obviously hybridized but they have their place. For example the Gaillardia called 'Tokajer' which is one of the only Asteraceae I grew that definitely looked hybridized. I don't care, for example, for the new strange Echinaceas. But the 2 plants I mentioned had serious ornamental appeal and it's a shame some small fry isn't allowed to continue propagating them for the handful of people who still want them. Maybe I'm complaining more about the nature of the licensing and whatnot than the notion of patenting itself.