Mary Henry photos
As with our friends and pets, we humans often form special affections for plants. It might have to do with how they’ve put real Wow-Power in our gardens or, perhaps, it’s due to some meaningful or quirky experience we’ve had with, or around, a particular plant. I have a few such leafy loved ones. High on my list is Fatsia japonica.
Native to Korea and Japan, this evergreen shrub grows to a height of 8 feet. Its palmate leaves are shaped like giant maple leaves of thick, glossy leather. The leaves are held up and out, nearly horizontally, on sturdy, 8-to-10-inch leaf stems. Used with the likes of bamboo, hardy banana, and tall grasses, it can turn a Northwest garden into an ersatz patch of the tropics. Alone, it is a sculptural focal point. Tucked in among our typical Northwest garden plants, it’s a bold accent contrasted against smaller leaves, bare deciduous braces, or conifer needles.
Commonly called Japanese Aralia, it sports blooms in early autumn. The clusters of tiny flowers are in globes that appear at the ends of multiple stems, making a bloom head reminiscent of an exploding firework in creamy white. Each of these flowers becomes a berry and the fruit clusters decorate the garden well into winter.
Fatsia japonica is not fussy about soil but will not tolerate being constantly soggy. It grows happily in shade or partial shade. Too much sun fries the leaves. A top dressing of compost in early spring or a scattering of a complete fertilizer (12-12-12 is a good choice) around its root zone will ensure robust growth, strong healthy leaves and blossoms.
In addition to the deep green leaves, standard to the species, a couple of cultivated varieties have been propagated and marketed. Fatsia japonica “Variegata” has generous splashes of cream on its dark green foliage, F. j. “Spider’s Web” has fine lines of white on its leaves and, indeed, looks like a leaf appliquéd by an artistic spider.
So, there you have the nuts and bolts (or more accurately the leaves and roots) of Fatsia japonica. But why has this plant so thoroughly besotted me? I’ll share three of many good stories.
The late Dr. Homer Harris (1916-2007) was the first Black dermatologist in the State of Washington and he was an ardent gardener, constantly in the process of embellishing his beautiful Neo-Tudor house on Queen Anne Hill. There was a window, close to his desk and reading chair in the library of that house. Outside that window, Dr. Harris planted a Fatsia japonica, growing it as a cluster of bamboo-like stems, which he pruned clean, leaving the top third of each stem full and leafy. From the outside it was a sculptural compliment to the brick of the house. The kicker was that Dr. Harris loved the sound of our winter rains. So, with the Fatsia near the house, under the rain gutter two floors up, Dr. Harris used a roofing nail and punched holes in the bottom of the metal gutter above the Fatsia. This allowed water to drip out and plop on the large, thick leaves, soothingly exaggerating the sound of our winter rains, which the doctor could hear from inside his library.
When my mother-in-law visited on one of her trips from Ohio, she too became enamored of Fatsia japonica. So, she found someone to give her an 18-inch piece from one of the tops of their plants. This she took home, rooted it in water, then planted it in a very large ceramic pot. For years, that beloved plant, which she named “Fatso,” grew happily next to two large sliding glass doors, facing east in her TV room. Fatso sported tinsel balls or red ribbons on his (she said it was a male) leaf stems at Christmas; egg, rabbit and chicken ornaments at Easter; red hearts for Valentine’s Day; pumpkins, bats, witches and goblins for Halloween; and, intermittently, crystal beads in 6-inch dangles. Likely half the time, however, Fatso was admired in his naked splendor, his leaves being washed regularly with loving devotion. Grandchildren still talk about Fatso.
When my wife and I first moved to Seattle and into Madison Park, we hardly had two nickels to rub together. Yet, one night we staged a dinner party for six. We had four salad plates and four dessert plates. So, how do we serve six salads and six desserts on eight plates? She was serving a salad of shaved carrot, small slices of celery, and raisins with a dressing (a very Midwestern thing, woefully out of date and favor now). We were stymied, until I looked out the window and spotted a Fatsia japonica growing along the ignored side of my neighbor’s house. I crept out in the rain, harvested six large leaves, came in, washed and dried them. The leaves were placed top left of the place mats and a mound of carrot salad went atop each leaf. The guests were delightfully gobsmacked, giving us great accolades for our panache. Well, maybe. More accurately, poverty spawns creativity.
So, there you have it. Easy to grow, unusual as it is beautiful, a Fatsia japonica will give you a lifetime of pleasure. Grow it in the ground or in a large container. I encourage any gardener who has the room to purchase or propagate a Fatsia japonica and begin your own long and lasting love affair.