Allan Armitage on New Plant Offerings We Will Need More Than Ever This Year

It is the New Year, a time to clean house. The year 2020 dragged us under a long, dark cloud, and 2021 kept us there. Even though many plant businesses thrived, it has been frustrating, frightening, and at times extraordinarily sad to watch the events of the last two years. However, it is time to get together again and time to move on.

For me, this is what we need. We need to talk; we need to meet; we need to get off Zoom; and we need to travel. We need to believe in who we are, what we do, and realize we are essential. We need to remember that the disruptions in supply chains, the shortages of materials and labor, and the price increases have all been here before, and we have not gone away. We do not even have to understand the underlying financial markets in China, Taiwan, or the Americas, it does not matter. We simply need to get on with it, and smile at each other. It is really not that difficult.

We need to get over hoarding, not worry about politics, and for goodness sake, we need to appreciate the business we are in. You could be in a Nike factory in China inspecting laces.

So, what did I do in 2021? Whenever possible, I attended gatherings like California Summer Trials and Cultivate and took the pulse of those who were able to travel in pandemic time. I hated the travel, but I loved hearing the positive vibes from almost every attendee. In November, I finally starting talking to groups again about our products in person. In December, I got off my butt and spoke to my local garden centers about forcing paper-whites and amaryllis. This does not seem like much, but variants have made doing a lot more a little scary.

And yes, once I got out and shook hands, bumped fists, drank a beer, and drooled over the latest and greatest in programs and plants, I saw halls full of optimism and became even more convinced that this is exactly what we need.

It was like magic, an elixir that no doctor could prescribe.

What we need more than ever is to get on with it and thank our lucky stars we are in this business.

Great New Plants Coming in 2022

I can lead the charge to greatness all day, but we also need to lead the charge to great plants for my daughters and neighbors. When you read this, I will not have had time to share my favorites from MANTS (I will do that next month), but here are a few plants that should shine in 2022.

Dwarf crepes: The plant world has dwarfified, and the movement to dwarf crepe myrtles is gaining speed.

Distylium: The garden world is all about low maintenance. Here is a relatively easy-to-grow nursery crop that can survive almost anything. The drawback is it’s only hardy to zone 6b.

Carex: With the same no-work ethic in mind, carex popularity has gone through the roof. From natives to hybrids, they offer functionality and beauty, and no work.

Spigelia: It seems that we are also native-plantified. Consumers can’t get enough, and firepink provides the ultimate in nativity and beauty. And starter plants are reasonably easy to find.

Rudbeckia: As much as we try to put plants in cubby holes, rudbeckia really is all things to all people: Dwarf, tall, early, late, and all native. With the exceptional new breeding, get going!

Delphinium: I put this in as my hopeful plant. Breeding is vastly improved; new cultivars can be grown well, flower well into summer, and are teasing us with a hope of some heat tolerance.

Helleborus: This is my go-to perennial, spectacular in all its forms. It’s the plant that answers the questions about deer, shade, and longevity, with so many wonderful choices.

Begonias: They just keep getting better! If there is but one indestructible annual, for sun, shade, flower beds, and containers, it has to be the begonia. Its foliage and flowers are second to none.

Veggies: It does not take a mind reader or a Mensa groupie to figure this one out. Tomatoes, eggplants in containers, herbs on the patio, squash in the garden; No man can stay away.

Hydrangeas: What more can be said about the once lowly hydrangea. As a hydrangea-phobe, I was never smitten. But smiting is going on, and you might as well get on the wagon.