At one point in the movie The Princess Bride, when the villain keeps saying that the unfolding events are inconceivable, one of the characters finally turns to him and says, "You keep using that word. I don't think it means what you think it means."
I'm beginning to share that sentiment when it comes to gardening catalogs and the word giant.
The one time when that adjective was justified was with Russian Giant sunflowers. Those really were gargantuan—they grew to be about 7-8 feet tall, with flower heads that were easily a foot wide. At the end of the year, I had to use a saw to cut them down.
I mentioned a couple posts ago that my Crocus tommasinianus 'Ruby Giant' weren't any larger than any other crocuses I've grown, and I now have to say the same for the Aquilegia x hybrida 'McKana Giants' that I started from seed two years ago and which just this spring flowered for the first time.
I'm beginning to share that sentiment when it comes to gardening catalogs and the word giant.
The one time when that adjective was justified was with Russian Giant sunflowers. Those really were gargantuan—they grew to be about 7-8 feet tall, with flower heads that were easily a foot wide. At the end of the year, I had to use a saw to cut them down.
I mentioned a couple posts ago that my Crocus tommasinianus 'Ruby Giant' weren't any larger than any other crocuses I've grown, and I now have to say the same for the Aquilegia x hybrida 'McKana Giants' that I started from seed two years ago and which just this spring flowered for the first time.
Don't get me wrong—I like the plant quite a bit, even if it did take a lot of coaxing to get a very small patch going. It's just that if you're going to call a columbine giant, it should at least be bigger than its cousin in the front yard, 'Danish Dwarf'!


