Hardy Hebes

TEN YEARS AGO we'd hardly heard of hebes, and now it's a rare gardener who doesn't depend on these tough little shrubs. Up until February's frigid blast, we'd become complacent about their hardiness. Now we're looking at cold-damaged hebes and trying to figure out which ones really are best for the Northwest.

Why do we care? Because hebes are the kind of small shrubs we're turning to in search of easier-to-care-for gardens. Unlike perennials, they don't outgrow their bounds, spread or need dividing. Hebes are drought-tolerant. Evergreen foliage is their greatest virtue, but they also have pretty, long-lasting flowers. They are sufficiently showy to carry a container planting and equally effective massed in the landscape. But here's what we really love about them: Like a black leather jacket or pair of comfortable wedge heels, hebes are both practical and sophisticated. Can you think of another plant so useful yet so collector-plant glamorous? You need never apologize for a hebe.

Hebes are great mimics. Some look like bristly conifers, such as the textural Hebe ochracea 'James Stirling' or the tiny Hebe cupressoides 'Boughton Dome.' Others are as tidily formal as boxwood (H. buxifolia). There's even the closely related Parahebe perfoliata that looks like it must be a eucalyptus, with fat, round silvery leaves. Here's a trick: If you're stumped about what some plant might be, it's always safe to narrow your eyes, sound thoughtful and suggest it just might be a hebe.

Good drainage is key for healthy hebes. Native to New Zealand, hebes are more likely to rot than die of cold in our climate. They hate heavy soils. So plant them on dry slopes, in sandy soils or containers to keep standing water away from their roots. Avoid planting hebes in frost pockets and other chilly areas if you don't want to look at way too many brown leaves come spring.

Hebes do require some pruning to look their best. After bloom, sheer back flowering stems to keep the plant full and bushy. Some hebes tend to grow leggy. Even though it feels severe, go ahead and cut ragged-looking hebes way back. They'll resprout happily from the old wood and grow back quickly. Would that humans were so easily rejuvenated.

The tiny-leafed, low-growing hebes are ideal for edging beds or herb gardens. Try that box-leaf hebe, the tightly knit, silver-edged H. sutherlandii, or the variegated cream-tinged-with-pink H. 'Silver Dollar' for short hedging or pathway liners.

Many hebes are substantial enough to fill a pot or anchor the corner of a mixed border. Hebe 'Bowles Hybrid' has shiny, dark green leaves and blooms prolifically purple in summer. For a hebe, this one is almost blowsy. So are the ghostly Hebe recurva, with curvy pale gray-green foliage, and H. 'Amy' with her shiny, dark purple leaves.

I recently visited a garden on a street corner where the owner had planted two long parking strips with swathes of Hebe albicans 'Red Edge' mixed with heathers and fluffs of the blond grass Stipa tenuissima. A couple of dwarf rugosa roses and some lavender were tucked in for summer color and fragrance. All the plants were thriving despite being sandwiched between pavement and street in the baking sun with little irrigation. The gray-green mounds of red-trimmed hebes held the whole composition together, creating an undulating rhythm through both parking strips. A nurseryman recently told me that H. 'Red Edge' flew out of the place; he just couldn't keep it in stock. No wonder.

Valerie Easton is a Seattle freelance writer and contributing editor for Horticulture magazine. Her e-mail address is valeaston@comcast.net.