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Archive for the ‘Development’ Category

I’ll find any excuse to share photos of Chojubai!

A few of these photos are of older trees blooming in my yard this spring, in their new antique pots. (Love that oxymoron, ‘new antique’—new to me, but also old to me and everyone else). I’ve also included photos of younger plants I’m growing.

‘Chojubai’ is the cultivar name for a dwarf form of Japanese Flowering quince. Because of the scarcity of Chojubai bonsai in the United States, and because I enjoy working with them, a few years ago I started growing them in some volume. Even though the ability to develop woody plants is nearly unparalleled in Oregon’s Willamette Valley, it’ll still take me about 8 years to make a product I’m happy with, ready for a bonsai pot. In the meantime I’ll share a few of the Chojubai I’ve got going here, in various stages.

To date, pots with Chojubai outnumber all other plants combined in my yard… although I’d NEVER admit to any favoritism. Really, they just multiply whenever I turn around, I have nothing to do with it. Randy critters. I think they need a lecture on safe propagation. Until I do that, I’ll keep potting up the newcomers.

For more about Chojubai including some famous trees from Japan, see my earlier post Diminutive Jewels.

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12″ H, 22″ W. One of the older Chojubai I have. This one seems to start growing a bit later than others and only flowers once a year, but has great bark. In a pot that is not antique but maybe 40 years old, and must have been used for at least 39 of those years as it has a lovely patina developing on its surface, softly greying the cream glaze.

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10″ H. This modest-sized tree is in a nakawatari Chinese shirokouchi, which is fancy bonsai lingo for: The pot came from China about 150 years ago and has a cream glaze. Pot supplied by Maestro Matt Reel.

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16″ H. Although about as old as the first one, maybe 40 years, this tree doesn’t have quite as good bark, but it grows more vigorously and blooms 2-3 times a year. Bark is related to age, but more significantly for Chojubai, it’s related to genetics. So if we’ve got a young plant and don’t know where it came from, we won’t know when or if it will develop that wonderfully craggy, checked bark that adds so much to their beauty in the winter. One 25-year-old plant I have still has none of that characteristic bark.

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11″ H. This Chojubai was grown by Anne Spencer since 1990 from a three year old plant. Container by Sara Rayner. Anne was meticulous in her notes, and they read: “Purchased at GSBF convention from Roy Nagatoshi. Is cutting from original plant near Nagatoshi’s nursery, originally from Japan. $7.50–3 yr. cutting. Planted into garden for winter.” This little tree blooms a couple times a year. We all miss Anne.

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20″ wide. This rascal has been growing in my yard for a couple of years, bought as a 6-7 year old plant from Telperion Farms. Blooms several times a year, if I let it. Which I don’t.

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More rascals in the back-forty, also originally from Telperion Farms a couple years ago.

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A rascal-to-be. Cuttings taken last year from the old multiple-trunk tree on this post, the first photo. Love the bark on that tree! Some of these cuttings were trying to bloom less than a year from growing roots. I don’t make this stuff up! They’re crazy plants.

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I’ll keep this photo essay short on words and long on images: Jorge Trak studied repotting techniques in February. We covered a lot more trees than I show here, but this Trident was one of the better documented of those we did photograph…

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Jorge beginning to uncover the top roots on this Trident maple that had been growing with great abandon in my backyard for two years. There was a 9′ leader on it. It had been ground-layered for a better nebari 2 years ago.

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The roots had grown through the Anderson flat and straight through the weed barrier cloth. It took Jorge 10 minutes to cut off enough of them so he could even pick it up off the ground. Look at the top edge of the flat, which is bowed out from the power of the root system.

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When we uncovered the roots near the trunk we discovered a nearly 10″ fused nebari. It was about half that 2 years ago.

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Cutting off the old root system with a saw. I don’t use many power tools, but this would have taken us more than an hour I think using a hand saw.

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After washing and trimming, and also thread-grafting some seedlings for roots on the left side—they are the straw-colored ones. (Washing is only necessary when doing intensive root work, and generally only on young deciduous trees like this one.)

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The light colored, longest roots are the seedlings that were grafted.

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New home for the trident.

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Tucking sphagnum into the roots near the base.

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Nice green twisties so we don’t bang up our newly grafted seedlings.

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We also looked at this Japanese maple that I air-layered when I got back from Japan, about six years ago.

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Nebari on the air-layered Japanese maple. We did approximately the same thing with this one as the Trident, except no thread grafts were needed. Gotta love air-layers! And ground-layers. Anyhow, thought I’d share these young trees with you-

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Japanese White pine is a relatively simple plant to maintain. When we apply invasive pine techniques to White pine we usually end up weakening them. For starters, pulling or cutting green old needles off White pine is not a great idea. The tree rarely has the energy to respond positively to this, and it’s better to let the needles yellow naturally, and pull them off in the fall. Right about now, in fact.

Lots of trees are pretty complicated and fall work on them is quite involved. Black pine is one of them, or any of the several pines that you might cut the candle on in mid-spring and have regrowth to manage in the fall. White pine is in another group, which only grows once a year and so there is less to do in the fall. The other pines that you will probably maintain the same way are lodgepole, limber, mugo, etc.—any of the mountain pines, actually, may be maintained in the manner shown below.

Japanese White pine in early October, with last year’s needles yellowing.

The same pine after gently removing the yellowing needles, which come off with just a light touch. After this work you can rewire your tree if needed, cut back branches if needed, trim long or errant shoots if needed… otherwise, you’re done!

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Since a few of you seemed interested in the work going on at a client’s place with these two well-known trees, I thought an update on them might be fun. We start with the first cryptomeria photo from 1 1/2 years ago:

This is how the tree looked before we began wiring, adjusting, and trimming

Cryptomeria as it looks now, in July 2012 after 1 1/2 years of work and growth. The tree was recently repotted, and we shifted it to the right slightly so that the forward facing root was less ‘in our face’. Although not so visible in the photo, the apex area needs still to fill out a bit, but that should happen within the next year. This is a big tree, about a yard tall.

And now the Foemina juniper. Here’s a progression of photos showing how that one has changed in the last two years:

Photo of Foemina juniper from a show a few years ago, in the original design.

After the initial December 2011 styling. This styling resulted in the post ‘Tar and Feathering?’ which inspired some interesting commentary from readers. Here you have yet another opportunity for throwing rotten vegetables and used computers… once again please comment/fling freely! Apple products preferred.

Foemina juniper as it looked in July 2012. Notice that the top foliage pads are not yet fully defined, and the bottom ones are beginning to come sharply into focus. This is only possible through scissor work. Pinching any of the needle type junipers—J. rigida, J. communis, or Foemina—results in weak trees that do not have clear pad definition. The reasons for this are worthy of another post… but in short, don’t pinch any juniper—the needle junipers in particular need to grow out and extend several inches to build energy before you cut with a scissors, otherwise you’ll have a panicked and distressed tree. (Scale juniper work is totally different.) This Foemina has regained some of its natural vigor with scissor training. The lower right jin still needs reduction, and please ignore the ugly wire holding the tree into the pot, it’s temporary…

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This was interesting and seemed worthy of sharing. This tree, owned by a client, was originally Rocky Mountain juniper. It had some of the worst scale infestation that I’ve ever seen, the Rocky Mountain foliage was so covered with it that it looked nearly white from a distance.

When we decided to graft on it I did warn my client that I was not sure of our success because the stock was weak. I think we did about 8 veneer grafts with itoigawa scions and 6 took. So we were happy and a bit surprised. What happened following that was even more curious.

I should say that we did not graft to get rid of the scale but to get rid of the bad foliage type. I do wish I had earlier photos of this so you’d be more likely to believe me, but none of the itoigawa grafts ever got scale. Not a single one. The itoigawa was even touching the infested original foliage, but the scale never transferred in the couple of years we were slowly cutting back the original foliage.

We also are approach grafting new roots on this tree, just to remove a long, boring section of lower trunk. That’s what the blue tape wrappings are about, holding the approach graft in place. That graft is taking well.

I hope this does not send the message ‘Got scale? Graft!’—for that would be a bit extreme. It was just a surprising benefit of what we wanted to do anyway. Spraying oil in May and June is usually a better (and somewhat less complicated) control for scale…

Grafting top and bottom on a Rocky Mountain juniper. All the pest-ridden original foliage has been cut off after several years of letting the scions grow. None of the scale infestation remains and the tree has a completely new vigor and health. Should be a nice bunjin someday.

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This tree was originally collected by Kevin Yates from a park in Eugene. Apparently it had been kept stunted by the nutria that lived in a pond nearby. When Kevin saw this post he recognized his tree and corrected me on several points on its origin- Thanks!

Euonymus is a popular genus for bonsai. The burning bush, Euonymus alata, is not a commonly used species, however, and I was excited to give it a whirl. This photo essay was taken in the creation of this bonsai during the Winter Seasonal of 2012, in February.

The Euonymus after growing in an Anderson Flat for a few years. This photo was taken the day of styling, in February 2012.

The stalwart Howard Griesler of Chicago working with the flex-shaft grinder to bring down the large pruning cuts. (Howard is a foodie and loves our eclectic Portland restaurants...)

The redoubtable John Denny from Iowa working on the rootball. (John is a master brewer, and typically makes sage comments about the local micros).

Both gentlemen washing the rootball of some mucky old soil. I stood far away.

The prepared rootball drying a bit before potting.

Pot prepared... for this tree we used a simple mix of 50% akadama/50% pumice. This is not a perfect pot for the tree, but at least it fits. I'm sure there is a colorful glazed pot in its future, perhaps a dark blue or green.

Right about this time Howard's glasses broke. This was our solution---toothpicks from the kitchen deftly wired into place. It is rare to find an opportunity to wire outside of bonsai! One must take them eagerly whenever they arise.

The final result. It needs a stupendous amount of development, but it's an unusual species for bonsai and I'm curious to see where it goes. Certainly it will give the Japanese maples a run for their money in the fall with its vermillion foliage.

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This unassuming dwarf quince can steal your heart. There are many who have gone to Japan for the spectacular pines, junipers, and maples, only to discover the quiet but memorable Chojubai. Those ‘many’ included a few friends of mine, and myself. This post is a little longer than most because Chojubai is so little known in the West, and, frankly, I think it deserves better. Also, waiting for you at at the end of this long post is a question…

A well-known root-over-rock Japanese flowering quince ‘Chojubai’. 45 cm high

Fairly typical of the multiple-trunk old Chojubai now seen in Japan. 33 cm high

Chaenomeles japonica ‘Chojubai’ is a cultivar of the comparatively coarse Japanese flowering quince. Few plants for bonsai can match its contrasting qualities: Idiosyncratic, craggy branching and twigging, with rough older bark, adorned almost contradictorily with glowing ruby flowers. They flower mostly when out of leaf, in winter, so they lend a feeling of glowing life to the bonsai yard when all else is dull. The details are small, with glossy leaves about 1/2″ long and flowers under 1″ wide. There are several flower variations including white and red, although almost all Chojubai used for bonsai are red-flowered because that variety has the finest twigging.

Medium-sized (‘chuhin’) Chojubai. Fine old tree. 29 cm high

Quirky medium-sized raised-root Chojubai. 30 cm

The history of this tree in Japan is interesting… At first, Chojubai appeared commonly as a small accent plant in the Kokufu show forty years ago, as an unramified twig or two. Only rarely was it seen as a primary tree in the medium size category, and never in the large size. It was a second tier tree. Then something shifted. Around 1990 we began to see large size Chojubai in the Japanese shows. These were trees about 1-1.5 feet tall and twice as wide, multiple-trunked and highly ramified. Occasionally single-trunked trees, which are rare, were seen. In Kokufu book 80, about six years ago, two Chojubai won Kokufu prizes. Two years later in book 82 another won. Chojubai had come of age.

Most Chojubai are enjoyed out of leaf, although the small glossy leaves are perfectly in scale. As Chojubai often flowers nearly year-round there is nothing stopping you from putting them on the display tables any day of the year. 30 cm

You might wonder why I put this in…Well, it is a Chojubai accent plant in the Kokufu show 40 years ago. Interesting, isn’t it, how tastes and techniques have changed? These days, this tree would be unlikely to even get accepted into a local Western show.

The vast majority of Chojubai grown for bonsai are the red-flowered variety; all the other photos in this gallery are of red-flowered trees. This is a white-flowered tree and it won a Kokufu prize. Very hard to ramify the white ones. 33 cm

Chojubai’s ease of ramification is enhanced with training, creating dense forms of intense complexity. Most unique to the Chojubai is the natural eccentricity and unexpected angles and directions in the branching, which are usually encouraged as they represent the special flavor of this variety. If this were a plant trained by music, that music would be jazz.

A red-flowered Kokufu prize winner. Very old. This is a good example of the extremes in technique used to create a very crystalized form. Impressive, and yet in some ways perhaps not showing the best of what Chojubai offers. Hmm, I wonder how long I will be in purgatory for that comment… 35 cm

One of the rarer single-trunked Chojubai. Another Kokufu prize winner. If you have a single-trunked tree, be very sure to cut all suckers that come from the root base. Beautiful old tree! The warty bark is evident only with great age. 38 cm

If you have a Chojubai, you’re lucky. Keep it moist. Plant in deeper containers to hold more water. If you have a young plant, put it in a big training pot with large size soil mix for a few years, so you have some energy to manipulate. Keep in the sun. Use a pesticide when shoots are elongating to control aphids. Wire main branches and shoots from the base for multiple trunks, and cut and grow following that. This is not so much to create branch taper, as there will be little of that, but for the short, zigzagging and erratic branching that is only created by many years of scissor work. Cut back in June to one to three internodes only on refined trees, leave extensions on younger plants to develop trunk. Always immediately remove shoots that come from the base that you are not intending to use as trunks—they will weaken the older areas. There’s more to it, but that will get you started.

Lovely loosely styled multiple-trunk Chojubai. Many years of careful scissor pruning created this natural form. 40 cm

Chojubai just beginning to grow in April at Shinji Suzuki’s nursery.

Another Chojubai at Suzuki’s a month later, in May, just before trimming the extensions.

Chojubai at my place in mid-December, showing tiny flower buds. Any strong tree, with timely trimming, will produce this many buds. It has already had a few flowers open, which are about 1″ across, and will continue blooming for 3-4 months until late March when the leaves start coming out. After that the blooming is more sporadic.

After all those words and photos, there’s no hiding that I’m totally besotted with Chojubai. Ah well. Another personal secret offered to the globe. But I have a wondering curiosity if these images stirred—if any photograph CAN stir—the endearments that Chojubai have raised in myself and others lucky enough to have seen them in person. I imagine many of you have never seen Chojubai before. What do you think? Something you’d like to see more of?

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No matter how assured you are, changing the design of a famous tree is done with a deep intake of breath. One takes precautions. Like boarding up windows and doors, in premonition of a rowdy gang of tree maniacs in green cloaks with picks and axes and rolls of wire for who knows what horrible use, in the street outside your house. And you imagine thinking, as you stand quietly looking out at growing chaos and red torch fire, with chants like ‘Let’s redesign HIM!’, that a bonsai-free life in Acapulco sounds nice. But at this point it’s too late. The deed is done. My only advantage is that few of you know where I live…

Many of you may remember this Foemina juniper from old photos of California bonsai shows, or even last year’s Bonsai Statements magazine. It has a thirty-year history as a bonsai, created in California by the eminent Shig Miya from an air layer. Mr. Miya grafted the only branch at the top of the tree.

Deciding on this aesthetic shift for Mr. Miya’s tree was derived from a simple conversation about its possibilities with my client, who had purchased the tree several years ago. We were both eager to try a new form. My client is very interested in preserving old bonsai created in the States, but he also likes adding new twists to old things. I think bonsai develop an indefinable flavor when they’ve been worked on by multiple artists.

I am not a proponent of keeping bonsai as they are, indefinitely, in perpetuity, as a form or creative idea that was locked into place by the first artist. Bonsai are BONSAI precisely because many people, hopefully, lend their artistic stamp to it, and the bonsai change and morph over the decades. This is what makes a bonsai different from a novel or a painting. I know this is an issue of some contention particularly in public bonsai collections, where, understandably, there is an effort to retain bonsai looking like they did when donated. This presents great difficulties, however. It seems to me that if a bonsai were, to use an extreme example, to lose an important branch, then to have it remain locked in its old form even though visual balance has been lost would be to allow it to devolve into bad bonsai. And bonsai change without asking for our approval, too.

I think the only rule is to be continually seeking to find balance within the tree, within the design. And everyone’s sense of balance will be, naturally, a bit different.

The Foemina juniper on the Sept/Oct 2010 cover of Bonsai Statements.

Photo of the Foemina juniper from a show a few years ago, in the original design.

Current design, fall 2011. The lower right jin may be shortened in the future. My feeling was the apex should be lower than the top of the trunk, and that the cascading branch was too long. I hoped these changes would highlight the massive, straight trunk. And I wanted to see more integration of foliage and trunk, so that it appeared more as one unit. It needs perhaps a bit more growth to complete that last goal. Please comment freely and honestly!

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This is the same tree as was featured in the previous post. I took that picture in leaf, then took a trip, and when I came back it was completely bare. Here’s a winter silhouette, and, since several commented on it, a close-up of the nebari.

Red Maple, Acer rubrum, October 2011. The upward and outward flowing branches create its natural feeling.

Nebari

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Spruce bonsai have been ‘in the news’ this past year or two. I’ve posted one spruce already this fall… and I thought, why not continue the trend? So here’s another one. Some of you might remember this four-trunk Ezo spruce clump from an earlier post. It was styled in 2009 and left rather leggy as we can’t always cut to where we’d like the first time around. The recent rewiring allowed me to take the branches back to about where the profile should be.

Spruce is a very popular tree for bonsai in Japan. The vigor and tenacity as a potted tree is equaled by few genera, and the serene, quiet feeling of it is greatly appreciated over the water.

As the tree looked after initial styling and 'potting' in 2009. Stubs were left on cut branches to control some bleeding of the sap.

In September 2011 before rewiring. In 2010 I planted some 'Kokinsai' azalea to the rear, which is a dwarf azalea.

As it looks now following rewiring. There are still thin areas, particularly in the apexes. Spruce develops rather rapidly, however, and I think in about three years this should look more mature. It's starting to look 'quiet'. Halfway there! Although we could argue whether there is ever a 'there' in bonsai.

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