Our first good cold snap comes this week. I was worried yet again that it was going to be a warm winter, but I forgot January has a way of quashing my fears over a lack of chilling hours for spring bloom.
A few green leaves hang on here and there with the light freezes we’ve had. But, after multiple nights in the 20’s, brown, beige, and black will be the dominant colors visible at eye level. In this drab landscape, I have planned for spots of color that that winter freezes reveal on the stems of deciduous woodies. Like elongated coloring pencils, they are so vibrant and rich.
Growing up I learned that under utility lines the cut red maples sprout crimson stems, and the fresh growth of hacked-back sassafras is a rich green. I wondered if I could do something similar in the garden and emulated what I saw in nature by planting a Cornus sanguinea ‘Midwinter Fire’ (blood-twig dogwood) outside my childhood bedroom window. I knew that most colorful-stemmed dogwoods had a short life span in the south due to canker. After leaving for grad school, I gave my parents instructions to cut it back late in winter even though I didn’t expect it to live long. But, it still lives to this day some 15 years later and every holiday season when we travel home to visit I’m greeted by the bonfire-colored stems outside my window.
East Texas hasn’t been as friendly to the two ‘Midwinter Fire’ I’ve killed, and I have searched for another form that would work well. I figured that most red-twigged dogwoods wouldn’t do well with their more northern provenance.
A few years ago, Jason Reeves of UT Gardens Jackson told me about Cornus amomum ‘Cayenne’, a selection of our native silky dogwood that ranges from Maine to Florida. Jason shared that Michael Dirr noticed the incredible red stems on this plant in a swamp outside Charlottesville, Virginia. I had low hopes for it, but perhaps it would surprise me like ‘Midwinter Fire’ did in Tennessee. I gave it a try, and I was delighted when it filled out the first year well.
Now, after having it in the ground for three years I can say it is a keeper for my garden. I have it in a winter wet but dry summer spot in the garden. My fear was the heat would do it in, but it made it through 36 days of +100°F in 2023, perhaps aided by the slow trickling hose I occasionally threw down at the base.
I wasn’t quite happy where I originally sited it, and this past spring I cut it back hard and moved it to where the lower winter sun would better shine on the rich red. It didn’t bat an eye and was over five feet tall once again by the end of summer.
While I can’t promise that ‘Cayenne’ is the strongest colored red I’ve ever seen, beggars can’t be choosers, and the crimson is good enough for me in my southern garden. The hue really becomes noticeable after the first frost with the sun lowering in the sky and first of the leaves start to fall. The side facing the sun is always the richest color. Some deciduous woodies produce excess anthocyanins to act as a natural sunscreen on the sunny side of the stem. I notice that some years I have to go through after a light frost and remove the remaining leaves off the plant. But, a strong freeze will fully undress the foliage.
Like most other colorful stemmed woodies, if not cut back the stem color will mellow to a gray-brown. I coppice it to the ground every year or two to keep the ember-colored stems burning bright. While I harvest a few sprigs for holiday decor, the final cut comes in late winter before the plant begins leafing out (header image). The small stems I collect and bring inside. The larger pieces I stick as hardwood cuttings to make more silky dogwoods.
I jam 12 inch lengths of stem into substrate-filled gallon pots. I don’t cover them or treat with hormone, and I can get around 40–50% to root well. I just keep the substrate moist. Patience is required for roots to form. The twigs will usually leaf out before they put down good roots, and the new leaves no doubt help synthesize more auxin for root formation. Later in early summer, I can usually tell which ones have rooted in well, and I separate the cuttings into new pots. I prefer one cutting per pot, though some who like fuller plants may wish for more.
With this approach I can have plants that are about a foot high and ready to go in the ground the following winter. For on the coldest days when I walk outside and see even more of those glowing stems catching the low sun, I’m reminded that there’s beauty to be found even in the stark quiet of winter. These stems like living embers keep a fire burning in the heart of the garden, warming not just the landscape but the soul as well.
CULTIVATE YOUR PLANT PROPAGATION SKILLS
If you enjoyed learning about hardwood cuttings and want to improve your plant propagation skills, check out my class Success with Seed Sowing. We go in depth on the science and practice of seed propagation.