Hydrangeas with serious substance in both bloom and leaf crowded narrow paths through the display garden. Alstromeria stood tall amidst flopping Japanese anemone and a deep purple flowering crepe myrtle hugged one side of the gravel passage. We were at Joy Creek Nursery in Scappoose, Ore. I might as well have been in heaven. The hell of it was that I had to limit any purchases to plants that would grow here in Northwest Indiana. Still there were hundreds from which to choose. Joy Creek specializes in Clematis and Hydrangea. That's not to say the owners haven't set their sights on hybridizing other plant groups.

They've introduced a Miscanthus that blooms so late the possibility of seed setting is nearly nil.

There were two reasons to stop at Joy Creek. Besides it being right on the way between Portland and Astoria, we were transporting one of Joy Creek's plants. I'd won it at a dinner sponsored by the Garden Writers Association the night before. Hydrangea Shirobana-gaku, a white lacecap from Japan, had thick leaves and already had reached more than 2 feet high. I wanted to know if it stood a chance at surviving our Zone 5 weather.

I met the nursery's co-owner Maurice Horn, who showed me to the plant growing in the display beds. It was huge with succulent, sturdy leaves and stems and pure white blossoms. Although it blooms on old wood, Horn felt it would most likely bloom for me if I put it in the right place. The ideal place is in dappled shade and sheltered from wind.

Its ancestors, he explained, grew along the coastal woodlands of Japan. I told him I had just the right spot.

Horn gave me the insider's tour of his domain -- a neat-looking labyrinth with niches of inconspicuous plants, each a one-of-a-kind representation of meticulous hybridizing. A huge clump of bright yellow Helianthus in the display beds made my heart skip a beat. I found netting bags tied around some of the spent blooms and asked Horn about it. He's gone through the steps of patenting and is hopeful the much improved plant will be available to the consumer in a year or two.

He took me past the "employees only" barricade, every gardener's dream come true. There he showed me a line of small-flowered clematis he was working on.

The best one was gorgeous, and I told him I probably would be haranguing him for its release date. Horn lived in Japan for eight years, a country where its people gifted one another with pots of plants that we would stick in the ground for long-term growth. The Japanese consider them temporary, much like a bouquet of flowers.

Not wanting it to go through the rigors of shipping by itself, I chose two more plants to keep Shirobana-gaku company. Clematis Pink Flamingo and Kniphofia Maid of Orleans (just one of each, of course) were packed for shipping.

They'll be waiting for us when we get home today.

The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer. She can be reached at jeanstarr@verizon.net.