Dirt Divas

Sally Koppenberg, Brooke Heppinstall & Hally Truelove Picasa 2.0
Sally Koppenberg, Brooke Heppinstall & Hally Truelove Picasa 2.0

Honeysuckle. Comprised of the words “honey” and “suckle,” this compound word seems a downright weird combination. Bees collect nectar to make honey, but one doesn’t think of them as suckling nectar. Piglets suckle, but they confine that activity to milk, not honey. Notwithstanding, the word may be strange, but the plant is wonderful.

A few summers ago, through a misunderstanding, I came into possession of five varieties of honeysuckle all at one time. As I had wanted lilacs, of which I am an ardent admirer, I will admit to being more than a little disappointed. But my landscape was in sad need of more shrubs, so I kept the honeysuckles, which I placed in various appropriate, as I thought, locations about the yard. One location, as it turned out, was less than well-chosen; the honeysuckle, after a valiant three-year struggle to survive, succumbed to the repeated onslaught of the snowplow. The other four, however, survived, and I was converted.

By and large, honeysuckles, or Lonicera, by their botanical name, are tidy, well-behaved shrubs. When planted in full or partial sun, and in well-drained, slightly organic soil, they grow at a moderate rate of speed, six to 12 inches per year, until they reach their mature height. Because they remain nicely where they are planted, rather than shooting succors in every direction, as many garden shrubs will, honeysuckles are ideal for use in mixed borders. They grace any location with neat foliage and dainty, fragrant flowers in shades of white, yellow, pink, orange, and red, followed by persistent, shiny red, orange, yellow, or white berries.

Honeysuckles are as suited to the hedge as they are to the border, making hedgerows from 5 feet in height to 10, depending on the species grown. Because the individual plants are reliably uniform in habit, honeysuckle hedges need little pruning, and, indeed, tolerate little. Such hedges are generally pest-free and carefree, providing excellent perching, food, and shelter for small birds.

Lonicera tartarica, or tartarian honeysuckle, is an especially hardy and reliable species, growing about 9 feet tall with a spread to match. It is typically red-flowered and berried, but can be had in a variety of color schemes. When mature, the bark peels attractively. I have two of the red-flowered varieties; one produces a fruit of cherry red, the other of fire-engine red.

Another species well worth trying is Lonicera caerulea edulis, or sweetberry honeysuckle, sometimes known as honeyberry. One of the shortest of the honeysuckles, it matures to 5 feet in height and width, has bluish, rounded leaves, pale yellow, bell-shaped flowers, and is exceptionally neat of habit. Already well appointed, this shrub has still more to offer — an abundance of dark blue, sweet and edible fruit, which, I am assured, makes delicious jelly or jam. I shamefacedly confess to leaving my own berries to the birds, as I get preoccupied with overly abundant supplies of apples and gooseberries.

There are also vining honeysuckles, the hardiest, to zone three or four, being Lonicera x brownii, or Brown’s honeysuckle, variety “Dropmore Scarlet.” This vine has profuse clusters of tube-shaped scarlet-red flowers that bloom from mid-July to freeze-up. It climbs by twining, so requires a structure to support its branching fifteen foot length. Brown’s honeysuckle is susceptible to powdery mildew in the fall, but this can be reduced, or prevented entirely, by planting in a location that provides adequate airflow.

To propagate a favorite honeysuckle, place cuttings taken in spring or early summer into water or moist sand. Once rooted, pot the cuttings until the following season before planting in the ground. Be sure to winter the pots with a good snow cover or heel them into the soil. I have had both tartatian and sweetberry honeysuckles seed themselves in the garden. I am not certain whether these seedlings will be true to type, but they are lovely little plants, produced with no effort whatever on my part, which I cannot help but consider a benefit.

One may not be keen on honey, or suited for suckling, but I think that every garden can find a honeysuckle to suit it. For a confined garden space, a vine climbing a fence or scrambling through another shrub would be perfect. In an open, spacious garden, a 9-by-9-foot specimen would spread its limbs luxuriously. An 8- or 10-foot high hedge, thick with branches, would foil nosey neighbors in a garden lacking privacy. Even a garden devoted souly to food production has a honeysuckle to suit.

Hally Truelove is a Master Gardener and Plants Woman who lives and gardens in Wasilla with her two daughters, a handful of cats, a bunch of bunnies, some guinea pigs, a dog and a frog. Contact her at 376-0909.

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