the camellia journal

 “This is a seedling ready to be registered, you take it and name it,” Ed said. 

Camellia people often complain about not having enough space for all the plants they’d like to have. For Stephanie and me, that was very true, as we lived on a postage stampsized suburban lot, mostly covered by the house. We decided therefore to concentrate the collection on a subset of varieties— those with family member names in their name. So that day, we were searching for Ed and June Atkins to obtain scions of ‘Stephanie Stanley’.

We learned of Ed and June Atkins at the Camellia Club of New Orleans’ tutorium, where we had hoped to have that variety grafted. Max Mizell said they didn’t have it available, but maybe we could obtain it from the Atkins. We were headed to Destin, Florida for Mardi Gras, so we added Shalimar, Florida as a necessary stop.

We knocked on their door and there was no answer, but a gentleman came around the house and greeted us. After introductions, he took us to his back yard. It was not really a back yard at all—it was row upon row of camellias. We learned later that the beds had been covered by a greenhouse which had recently been removed. Ed had fallen through its roof and, as he was developing Alzheimer’s, they decided to remove the greenhouse, give away all their plants, and replant with grass to make the property easier to sell.

We talked for hours and learned how Ed grew and named some of his seedlings. Most were named for family members,

including his wife, daughters and granddaughters: ‘June Atkins’, ‘Nancy K’, ‘Brooke’, ‘Stephanie Stanley’, and ‘Rachel Stanley’. He also named them after friends like ‘Fran Boudolf’ and ‘Monta Horton’. He named a reticulata seedling for himself and called it ‘Ed Atkins’. His other introductions included ‘Julia’, ‘Mandy Lane’, ‘Miss Fort Walton Beach’, ‘Shalimar Sunset’, and ‘Something Beautiful’. For years, it was believed that ‘Something Beautiful’ was actually a renamed ‘Grace Albritton’ or ‘Tammia’, but later DNA testing of these very similar blooms proved they were different.

Not having a huge yard himself, Ed took advantage of the empty land beyond his fence. The fenced rear property line divided their property from the Eglin Air Force Base (Ed was a colonel in the Air Force). He would throw many of his seeds over the fence, giving him more space to grow seedlings. Many thrived there.

Ed and June shared stories of their camellia days traveling to shows all over the south and also some of the stories behind their plants. They gave us several plants they had in pots, but most of his plants were still in the beds. As we gave our thanks and prepared to leave with several plants, Ed pulled us over and said, “This is a seedling ready to be registered, you take it and name it.” So a day just hunting for different varieties became a relationship that’s been special for many years. We were excited with our new camellias. Many were originated by Ed Atkins, including the ‘Stephanie Stanley’ plant and the seedling we sought in the first place. While its tag read “Something Pink”, we named it for the people who gave it to us and registered it in 2004 as ‘Atkins’ Gift’.

During the week, I thought about what they said about giving all their plants away. In calling to thank them again, June 

re-iterated their desire to give away all the plants. I made three trips in a borrowed pick-up to collect over 100 new varieties for our overly filled back yard. I picked more of the Atkins’ introductions, but failed to acquire ‘Monta Horton’ or the only ‘Ed Atkins’ that existed. I also took many other unnamed seedlings that had developed roots beyond the tap root. All were small plants.

One special blooming seedling—A99—was living only on its tap root, which I followed for several feet (at which time it turned into the neighbor’s yard). I cut it off and hoped I could stimulate more roots to grow. Months later, it finally died, despite all my TLC. However, I had it grafted, and so a beautiful red formal double was saved. It, and several others that have now bloomed, have yet to be named. With all these new plants, and still family member varieties to acquire, we did the natural thing for preservationists and collectors. We rescued a nursery that was to be sold to a developer, thus adding the needed space for more plants and solving the problem so many face.

I wrote frequent letters to the Atkins, letting them know how their camellias named after Stephanie, Brooke and Rachel were doing and how Stephanie and I were giving them best care we could. Unfortunately, the camellias were generally in a steady state of dilapidation—most were in their original pots. 

The last letter I wrote, which was never mailed, told of the horrid night Hurricane Katrina hit and described the violent winds, rising waters, and screams of plants torn out of the ground, floating off, and dying from drowning. The letter described the plants that survived these traumas then died of dehydration as there was no rain for over three weeks. The variety ‘June Atkins’ died in the storm, but luckily it was found and propagated from Paul Langford’s special collection in Greenville, Alabama and the Atkins were show friends and shared many scions over the years.

Ed Atkins has passed and June Atkins lives in Lafayette, Louisiana surrounded by daughters that have returned from other areas of the country. They hope to add the Atkins’ collection of varieties to their own gardens one day. Until then, all except the two varieties (‘Monta Horton’ and ‘Ed Atkins’) live along Atkins’ Avenue at my Camellia Heaven garden in Metairie, Louisiana. A fragrant seedling Ed Atkins shared with Tommy Weeks will soon be registered, with June Atkins’ approval, as “Atkins’ Fragrant”.

The joy of preserving camellia varieties manifests itself in being able to help others find that special plant. Recently, I received a call from Patti Rausch of Deland, Florida, the daughter of Fran and Hank Boudolf, who were longtime residents of Fort Walton Beach, Florida. Boudolf was instrumental in getting Fort Walton Beach named “The Camellia City.” Rausch was trying to find the camellia named for her mother. She and her sister, Susan Longenecker of Austin, Texas, were working to fulfill their father’s hope of establishing the Frances Pryor Camellia Garden on Brooks Street in downtown Ft. Walton Beach, Florida.

Boy was she in for a surprise. Not only did she learn Camellia Heaven had ‘Fran Boudolf’, but also had a seedling we had purchased at a Fort Walton Beach Camellia Show created by Boudolf and named “Patti Lou”. It was named for her and had never been registered. Rausch heard her father planned to name one for her. But had never seen it, and if it existed at the old home site, it was not tagged. It had not been distributed except for that single air layer. She was excited to not only have found her mother’s namesake, but also her own.

And so the chronicles continue.