Every morning, during the school year, I drive down a certain highway. From the road, for about a month every spring, I see the top of a large tree clothed in nothing but light, buttercup, yellow blossoms, the color and texture of the finest cream.
This spring, I decided to see the tree up close. I wanted to touch those petals which looked so delicate, but were actually tough and thick. I took only my camera and cell phone, but I also brought some questions.
What else remained on this property, which was, twenty years ago, a garden nursery? What happened if the closure were final and quick like a death, and the plants remained?
When HH and I first married, I bought plants from this nursery. I was a garden neophyte, and I still remember the young woman who took me around, trying to help me find the perfect ground cover. I hardly knew what a ground cover was, and I certainly didn’t recognize any of the plants we passed.
Fifteen years after its closing, the nursery was overgrown and barricaded.
I crawled over the welded, iron gate, walked up the asphalt drive, and the drone of traffic fell away. In front of the former office, a crabapple tree bloomed for all it was worth. I turned left and followed the siren song of that yellow-blooming tree. I thought I knew what it was, and if I were right, it was the only one I knew of in the metro area which grew to adulthood. A yellow ‘Butterflies’ magnolia. Thirty feet tall. This might not be news in the northeast, but in Oklahoma, it was big news indeed.
What else I found astounded me. Plants, expensive ones, were left to thrive or die, and surprisingly, many of them thrived. I counted at least five different varieties of deciduous magnolias, two of which were yellow. The shorter one which grew to six to eight feet with a more shrub like appearance was ‘Elizabeth.’ A closeup of its bloom is on the left.
As I walked, the only sound I heard was birdsong. Ghostly, burlapped and tagged trees surrounded me, still waiting for a buyer. Like a plant cemetery, the overall effect was mournful. Years of leaves had stacked up and decayed, creating fine, loamy soil. Two or three kinds of bamboo, several varieties of daffodils, and other shade plants had naturalized, making some areas look like a meadow.
I’m not familiar with the plant in this photo on the right. Anyone else know?
This nursery was innovative for its time, and it probably cost them their business. Twenty years ago, no one in Oklahoma sold or planted deciduous magnolias. The Oklahoma market was full of petunias, marigolds and begonias. The most popular selling tree was the silver maple.
Considered difficult to grow in our climate, conifers were very limited. Here, I found an entire section of conifers, including what I believe was a full-grown weeping Alaskan cedar. It was truly a thing of beauty and stood over twenty feet tall.
Mature Pines, fifteen or sixteen dogwoods, and several varieties of Japanese maples competed for space in this nurseryman’s forest. I took photo after photo, and there isn’t enough space on this blog to catalog even a tenth of what I found.
A man-made pond contained Louisiana iris still growing in murky water. I kept thinking that in the summer, this would be snake country. A forest of bamboo clustered at the rear of the property and created a natural fence.
When I returned home, I’d taken 300 photos. I then called the arborist for the city and talked with her at length. As I thought, the property is slated for development, but she was encouraged that the architect and owner were sensitive to what was on the site. However, she told me there was no guarantee that any or all of the plants could be saved. She stressed that many of them were so large now they couldn’t be moved.
If I’ve been coy about where this former paradise is located, it’s because she requested I not reveal the location. Many plants have been lost to theft, and I saw evidence of that while I was out there. I just hope they went to good homes, theft or not.
My overall feeling was sadness mixed with joy. Joy, that I finally saw that tree I’d wondered about for the last five years. And, sadness, well I don’t think that needs an explanation. Do you?
What a beautiful story — reminds me of the Secret Garden. You made me smile though about “twenty years” ago – I remember many a trip with mom to Moesel’s Horthaven to pick out exactly that “marigolds, begonias and petunias”. I moved away in 1985 and discovered gardens with cosmos, peonies, azaleas, astilbe, phlox, hydrangeas – I was mystified. Now I’ve moved back and delighted to see all those things growing in my Edgemere Park neighborhood right here were I once grew up among the marigolds.
TR, you brought back memories of Moesel’s Horthaven for me too. I remember wandering through there as a child with mom too. I know Marjorie Moesel now, and she is a lovely women; a real go-getter for the Hort. Society. She knows more than I ever will about plants.~~Dee
That could never happen around here. The ground would be cleared, the topsoil stripped off, & McMansions would be crammed in. Wait, that did happen in South Barrington to Klehm’s former nursery.
MMD, I didn’t know you were near Roy Klehm’s old nursery. I interviewed Roy for an article once. He is so kind.~~Dee
What a tragedy. I hate the thought of a once thriving vibrant nursery being turned into yet another development. It’s one of those times I wish I were a millionare and could restore it to a bustling business.
Me too.~~Dee
I hope you do a return visit and blog about it later on down the road. I would be interested in hearing what happens.
Hi Bill, I plan to do so. I’ll let you know how it goes.~~Dee
I’m so glad I saw this story. It is wonderful. You know this kind of living history is my favorite. I’m behind on blogging and have missed your blog for quite a few days. Looks like you’ve been busy and care so deeply about what’s around you. And you are off on another outing too so I look forward to more pics. I love to take pics too. I hope the new owners of this property will save much of the old plantings here. So sad to think they might be lost.
Thanks, Anna, your recent posts have been wonderful too, and I hope they make people think.~~Dee
My ‘butterflies’ magnolia is in bloom right now. I can’t imagine anyone leaving one of these beauties behind. What a sad story.
I would love to have a ‘Butterflies’ or an ‘Elizabeth.’ How fortunate you are.~~Dee
Hi, Dee, Beautiful story. It kindles up a lot. Yes, that plant on the ground is arum italicum. Do *not* take any home!
It’s the bane of my gardening existence! I have spent zillions of hours pulling it up. Once it’s in, it’s in. It will be one of the things that no one will ever get rid of, it’s so invasive. Trust me. Did I mention that it’s poisonous? I had a $700 vet bill to teach me that. (You don’t let your BC’s
play in arum italicum!) Sending loving prayers to the rest of those plants… 🙂
Thanks, Kathryn and thanks for the heads up on the Arum italicum. Yikes!~~Dee
Like a dream.
I wish I were able to break in there and take part in it.
Large, abandoned gardens are wonderful.
(Not that I have wide experience in this – just two – but the experience went deep.)
Esther
ESTHER IN THE GARDEN
Esther, this was my first.~~Dee
It makes me sad to see a good plant suffer. I hope someone rescues the plants before the rest that can be saved are gone.
I was in the nursery the other day where someone had just returned a completely dead boxwood still in the pot. It had leaves all tangled in the branches. I thought, “Hummm, I know what happened to that plant. Someone just never cared enough to do anything about it.”
Good for you for following up with the arborist. Keep us posted on the plant rescue efforts.
Robin at Bumblebee
Robin, it makes me sad too. I will keep you all informed.~~Dee
Thanks for taking me along on your journey that day. I smile, remembering times I’ve gone discoverin’. I had no idea there were yellow magnolias. When I’m in Mobile, I love going into wooded areas and seeing magnolias growing wild.
Hugs,
CurtissAnn
Rosebud, when you get to Alabama, you must get a yellow magnolia. ‘Elizabeth’ is much smaller.~~Dee
I regularly pass the abandoned nursery I frequented as a young woman. I learned so much from the owners and their employees. Unfortunately, it is pretty much a blank slate and I have to visualize where things stood. Thanks for sharing your story!
Mary Beth, our memories keep those gardens alive, don’t they?~~Dee
did you not liberate the ‘tote-ables?’
I’ll never tell.~~Dee
Dee, this was a thrilling story, it really pulled me in and made me feel like I was along for the trip. How sad and yet, maybe a little hope that somebody will come along and treasure this place once again?
Melanie, I certainly hope someone will.~~Dee
You certainly captured my undivided attention with this interesting story, Dee. How sad to think that they didn’t, or couldn’t, sell the plants before closing.
Hi Robin, thanks. The story needed to be told. I think they closed down very quickly, and were in foreclosure. The bank probably had the plants. That’s just a guess. I really don’t know why they left so suddenly.~~Dee
Wonderful post. The feeling of the pictures was definitely that of a cemetery. I hope you are able to save some of the survivors.
Deb.
Thanks. Me too, Deb.~~Dee
It truly does seem like a plant cemetery. Old souls left languishing on the land. Only the strong survived. Good for you that you took the time to investigate. A nursery ghost town.
Brenda
Brenda, ooh “a nursery ghost town.” I like that.~~Dee
What an adventure Dee. It is sad seeing all of those special plants languishing in an area to be developed. Too bad the owner doesn’t offer them to the public.
Lisa, I thought of that too. I doubt it’s what will happen though. They are so large now, that we’ll be lucky if he saves some in place.~~Dee
I was pretty sure it would be a Butterflies Magnolia after seeing them on Ki’s blog and being overwhelmed with plant lust! Maybe the large stuff can’t be saved but hopefully some of the small stuff can be? You’ve written about this so beautifully, Dee, and what an intrepid reporter you are. The sheer determination of the trees and plants to survive is amazing.
I sure hope you’ll let us know whatever happens to this abandoned paradise.
Annie at the Transplantable Rose
Hi Annie, it must be ‘Butterflies’ because of its growth and maturity. There weren’t that many yellow cultivars on the market then. I think if they save anything at all, they will work around the larger trees. They are the most valuable of the plants. Of course, if my husband were developing it, all would be different. He’s a sucker for trees. I’ll keep you informed.~~Dee
Wow, that it quite a wonderful story. I hope that the plants found some good homes as well. In a way it *may* be better for them that they were stolen. I’ve not met many builders who took special care not to disturb the vegetation and plants. It’s too bad though, they’re gorgeous plants!
Cinj, thank you and I agree although around here, builders are getting better. The city gives them landscape credits for saving things.~~Dee
Yes, great post Dee. Sad, yet hopeful at the same time.
Chey, thank you.~~Dee
Oh Dee, that is indeed a sad story, with a twist. It is hoped that the person who makes the decision of what will be done with the property will do right by the trees and shrubs there and build around them, thinks what a wonderful place that would be to live, or whatever, with those mature specimens growing. The unknown plant looks like arum italicum.
Frances, thanks for the i.d.~~Dee
Delicious storytelling, Dee. Thank you for carrying us along on your journey…
Thank you for coming, David.~~Dee