Shades of Autumn

I am admittedly not a big fan of autumn.  I don't dislike the season itself and in fact, some of my favorite garden plants flower as the days grow shorter, temperatures drop and summer begins to lose its grip.  My problem with autumn is that it precedes winter, and of winter, I am not a fan.  In my book, winter is simply a necessary evil--the cold weather I must endure in order to love the plants I love the most.  Perennials, bulbs, flowering trees, shrubs--they all have to have winter in order to survive--and not just survive, but thrive--and bloom.  And so, I survive winter knowing that at it's end, all of my garden favorites will be back to woo me with their flowers, their foliage, their fragrance and so much more.

So, if I have to endure winter, I figure autumn ought to be as beautiful as I can possibly make it.  Here are a few stars that are shining now in my gardens and a couple of others that I have visited this week.  Below, Aster novae-angliae (now technically Symphiotrichum novae-angliae because the botanists have been playing again).  The straight species, not a hybrid, it marries beautifully with Colocasia 'Elena' in the background.

Below, Helianthus simulans flowering in the Color Garden at Cheekwood Botanical Garden.  If you're a Nashvillian (or visiting) be sure not to miss Cheekwood--55 acres of beautiful gardens and the Color Garden, in the very capable hands of my friend Phillipe Chadwick, is especially beautiful this time of year.

Part of the fun of gardening is discovering new plants--or new variations of old plants, as in the case below.  I found this seedling Arum italicum in a friend's garden a few years ago and though it had but one leaf at that time, I thought it looked as though it might have some potential.  I'm so glad I talked her out of it.  Stunning variegation and these beautiful leaves will remain standing all winter long!

Tricyrtis is another genus of fall-blooming favorites.  Tricyrtis hirta, with its amethys-speckled blooms, always makes me smile.  It's not rare or even that unusual, but it sure is fun!

And last, but certainly not least, one of the best flowering bulbs around, Colchicum autumnale.  They last but a few days, but are so much fun when they suddenly burst into bloom in late September and early October.  If you look closely you can see the "checkerboard" pattern (technically known as "tesselation") in the flower petals.  In some varieties, this pattern is especially pronounced and very unique.

I hope that autumn finds you well.  I've been photographing like crazy the past few weeks and have a big announcement coming your way soon, so stay tuned!  See you in the garden!

The Iris By The Back Door

I'm sure that for each of us there are a host of characters who played important roles in our lives, especially when we were children.  My cast of characters happens to be a rather long list and oddly, or perhaps not so oddly, almost all of them had something to do with shaping me as a gardener.

I've told this story before, but in order to set up what I'm about to tell, I think it bears repeating that I began gardening when I was three.  Yes, three--when I planted the "helicopters" from a silver maple in the babysitter's flower bed and had so much success that two of those offspring still stand in my parents' yard today.  In fact, I could still give you a virtual walking tour of the babysitter's "garden", as it were, but that's a story for another time.  Maybe next week.

Today's entry moves us forward a few years when I was around the age of six or seven and introduces you to three more characters in my story--Annie Hurlburt, the country vet, and Pearl and Letha Condray, the mother and daughter who lived two doors down and across the street.  Annie and her husband Jack and their family lived on the other side of town (understand that in the town I grew up in, that might have been a mile--maybe a mile-and-a-half) and just down a little country road.  We always took the dogs and cats out for their shots, etc. and because I was squeamish--especially when they were vaccinating squealing little puppies--I usually stayed outside and looked at the garden.  There were irises everywhere, and it was especially fun for me to go in the spring when they were in bloom.

If my memory serves me correctly, I believe the story goes that one year Annie and her kids collected seed from some of the iris in the garden, sowed them, and planted the resulting seedlings near the back door of the house.  The sole survivor was a beautiful bicolor, with standards of golden yellow and falls of ruby red and from then on the iris was referred to as the "back door" iris.

There were also irises two doors down at Pearl and Letha Condray's house--hundreds of them--in every color of the rainbow!  Pearl, who lived to be nearly 100 years old, had to have been well into her 80's and probably approaching 90 even when I was a little boy and there were many times in many springs when I would walk down the street and Pearl and I would stroll through bed after bed of iris with her recalling completely from memory the name of every iris in the garden.  She could also tell you who she bought it from and what year!  Pearl's daughter, Letha, was just as sharp and there were just as many walks around the garden with her as there were with Pearl.  In fact, my mother still has two large clumps of spuria iris in the garden that have been there at least 30 years that came as divisions from Pearl and Letha--and there are divisions of those iris now residing in my garden in Tennessee.

The "back door" iris from Annie, the vet, also resided at Pearl and Letha's--by the back door, of course.  It was the only iris in a small bed made just for it and when it was in bloom, it's bold coloration shown across the garden.  A division of that plant eventually made it to my garden, too, but unfortunately, after many years, it finally disappeared.  I was reminiscing about some of the people who had influenced me a couple of years ago when Pearl and Letha and Annie all came to mind.  Letha had finally passed away--Pearl and Annie had long since been gone--and Letha's house was left to one of the local churches and the garden, for the most part, was dismantled.  This prompted me to pick up the phone and call mom to see if she knew of anyone around town who might still have some of the "back door" iris growing in their garden.  Letha and Pearl gave away hundreds of iris every summer--anything that needed dividing--so I thought there was a chance that someone might still have it.

Lo and behold, a few weeks later mom called to say that she had run into someone who thought they still had a clump in their garden--at least that's what it was labeled--but it hadn't bloomed in several years, so she couldn't be sure.  She brought mom a fat, healthy rhizome which then made its way to Tennessee and the photo you see above is the very same iris.  It found its way home to me after more than 30 years and this photo was taken last week in my garden.  I didn't know if it was the right one either until that beautiful, boldly colored, golden-yellow and ruby red flower unfurled its first blossom.  And in a few years, when the clump is large and healthy, I'm going to pass the "back door" iris on to some of my gardening friends the same way it was given to me.  After all, friends and memories are really what gardening is all about.  Happy Gardening!

Autumn Reprise

I sat down at the computer today prepared to blog about Hedychium, or ginger lily, but as I was scrolling through my photos this iris (cultivar 'Total Recall') caught my eye. It reminded me that I had just been in a garden earlier this week where the remontant (re-blooming) iris were in their full fall glory and so I changed my mind. I'll do the ginger lily post next week because right now, I have iris on my mind. This is partially due to the fact that just a few weeks ago I planted a box full of rhizomes that my good friend and partner in horticultural crime, Kelly Norris, sent me from his nursery, Rainbow Iris Farm (http://www.rainbowfarms.net/) in Iowa. (You also should check out Kelly's blog at http://www.kellydnorris.com/, but not until after you finish reading mine, please and thank you.)

Anyway... this photograph jogged my memory of several gardens that I have been in recently where the re-blooming iris, because of our long and unusually warm autumn, were absolutely stunning. I used to have a "thing" about plants that were typically spring-flowering reblooming in the autumn (I still don't like fall-flowering azaleas), but I have to admit that these remontant iris have become some of my favorites. 'Total Recall' was flowering at the Daniel Stowe Botanic Garden in Charlotte, NC when the Tennessee gang and I were there on our way to Raleigh for the Garden Writers conference back in late September. Others will bloom throughout the month of October and into November where the growing season is long enough and they don't get cut down by a hard frost.

Most of these re-bloomers, at least the ones that are readily available, are the typical tall bearded types. Being sort of a bearded iris virgin, I'm sure that there are others, too, but the tall beardeds are the ones I'm most familiar with so I'm sticking with those for now. Probably the most famous of all of the re-bloomers is the stunning white 'Immortality'. Now, you know I can barely stand white flowers, so for me to use the terms "white" and "stunning" in the same sentence, let alone side by side in a description, means that this plant must be truly special, and it is if for no other reason that it is one of the most consistent repeaters of any bearded iris, usually offering a show that is almost as impressive in the autumn as it is in the spring.

Other beautiful rebloomers include: 'St. Petersburg', 'Earl of Essex', 'Eleanor Roosevelt', 'Autumn Tryst', 'Summer Olympics', 'September Replay' and of course the ones I've already mentioned, 'Immortality' and 'Total Recall'.

These beautiful iris are just as easy to grow as the typical spring bloomers, but you get twice as much beauty from them! As for all bearded iris, excellent drainage is very important and full sun is preferred, though they will tolerate a little bit of shade (this may affect reblooming). Nearly all of them are extremely cold hardy and will grow all the way up into Zone 3, though fall bloom can sometimes be cut short in colder climates. In our southern gardens, though, where autumn often hangs on well into November as it has done this year, re-blooming iris are a great way to end the season!

Into Autumn

I must admit, autumn is not my favorite season. You see, I don't really care for winter much, so for me autumn is just sort of the precursor to what can be several months of cold, damp, drizzly weather that sometimes seems as though it may never end. But even though autumn means that winter is just around the corner, I love the beauty that it brings to the garden at the end of the season and I love the warm, breezy days that let summer linger, whispering away across the hills.

Those are the days that bring scenes like these, of Joe-Pye-weed (Eupatorium) and miscanthus beckoning from across the way--radiant, feathery plumes backed by the rich, warm shades of the Joe Pye passing its prime but still looking stunning dressed in autumnal shades.

With miscanthus being on the invasive exotic list (something I'm going to be blogging about soon) in some states, other scenes just as beautiful could easily be created with native grasses such as Indiangrass (Sorghastrum nutans) or one of the many switchgrasses (Panicum).

Other fall favorites include Aster oblongifolius 'Raydon's Favorite' and 'October Skies', Callicarpa americana (American Beautyberry) and the many Anemone x hybridus cultivars whose poppy-like flowers dance in the breeze on long, wiry stems.

More on other great autumn additions to the garden coming soon!

Species Lilies

I have a lot of friends who are plant hybridizers--good hybridizers--and for the most part, I love their plants. But there is one group of plants where my preference runs toward the wild species--untouched, unmanipulated, unmarred beauty. Species lilies.

These are lilies as they appear in the wild, untouched by human hand, and they are some of the most beautiful lilies in the world and in the garden. If you haven't grown species lilies, I would highly recommend you try. That is not to say that I don't like the hybrids. I do. I have 'Stargazer' and 'Casa Blanca' and 'Muscadette' and 'Scheherezade' and many others and they're all "wow" plants when they're in bloom. But there is something about the classic, wild beauty of a species lily that the hybrids, no matter how beautiful, can't match.

One of my favorites is pictured here--Lilium henryi var. citrinum. The "henryi's", in general, are easy to grow. The type species is a soft but rich orange color, petals strongly reflexed and covered in dark brownish-purple spots. There is also a hybrid known as 'White Henryi' whose flowers are less reflexed and are white with a tawny orange throat and little to no spotting. But it is var. citrinum that I like most. I like yellow, so it's a shoo-in in my book.

It is a robust grower, but I must admit, it absolutely has to be staked. No exceptions. As lovely as it is, its stems are a little on the weak side, but nothing that a sturdy bamboo stake won't rectify. That will turn some of you off, I know, but gardening is not without some work and staking is one of the least time consuming and most important of tasks once you learn to do it properly, and some plants are just worth it. Believe me, there are plenty of floppy plants that I've sent packing to the compost pile over the years, but there are some I make exceptions for.

The bulbs of Lilium henryi var. citrinum can grow to a very large size--one of the largest of the traditional garden lilies--occasionally weighing in at over 3 pounds and measuring over 2 feet in circumference (around, not diameter!). I threw that tidbit in to warn you that if you choose to grow the "henryi's" to use caution when staking. You don't want to drive your bamboo stick through the bulb!

Other species that are at the top of my "favorite lilies" list include: Lilium speciosum var. rubrum, Lilium regale, Lilium leichtlinii, Lilium pardalinum (the "leopard lily", native to California and the west coast, but performs exceptionally well in other locations), Lilium canadense, Lilium wigginsii (aka Lilium pardalinum supsp. wigginsii) and of course, many others. If you love lilies and you haven't grown some of the species, do a quick Google search and I'm sure you'll find some to fall in love with!

Of Summer Sunflowers

Being a Kansas boy by birth, one of my favorite of all wildflowers is the sunflower. "Wildflowers?", you may be asking yourself. Sure enough. Across the hills and plains of Kansas, at about this time of year, the wild sunflowers (Helianthus annuus) begin flowering. If you know where to look, you can find entire fields and valleys full of their brilliant yellow faces following the sun across the sky from east to west, sunrise to sunset. These are not the giant garden-variety sunflowers, but instead are a shrubby, multi-branched and profusely flowering sunflower that may have 50 or more golden yellow, 4"-5" diameter blossoms on each plant. Many of the florists' sunflowers are closely related--multi-stemmed, multi-flowering in a wide array of colors from creamy white through golden yellow to deepest burgundy. These are annual sunflowers, though, and what I really want to tell you about are a few of my perennial sunflower favorites!

The picture you see at the top of this blog entry is the foliage of what is, perhaps, my favorite of all of the perennial sunflowers, Helianthus salicifolius, or the willowleaf sunflower with leaves only about 1/8-inch wide and providing outstanding foliage texture in the sunny garden. It is a robust grower, reaching 5-7 feet tall and adding an additional 2 feet when in flower in late summer and early fall. Yes, it's tall, but it's also quite vertical and takes up a relatively small amount of space in the garden, so it's useful even in smaller spaces that need some vertical interest. A virtual cloud of 3-inch diameter golden yellow flowers appear atop the plant in September and last for 6-8 weeks, providing a spectacular late summer and fall display. If the height worries you, you can "pinch" the growing tips in June when the plant reaches about 3 feet tall and it will flower at 5-6 feet tall instead of the normal 8 feet.

Other perennial sunflowers that I have grown and loved over the years include Helianthus angustifolius, with leaves about 1 inch wide (and often confused, though I'm not sure why, with H. salicifolius, since they look nothing alike), also growing 6'-8' tall. This is commonly called the "swamp sunflower" and will thrive in wet locations where other plants suffer. However, it does spread by underground runners and may become quite aggressive in damp soils. Keeping it drier will help curb its desire to run and, quite frankly, I find it worth what little extra effort it takes to occasionally pare down the size of the clump. The benefits of having it in the garden easily outweigh any inconvenience, in my opinion.

A sunflower that not many people are familiar with but that I have great admiration for is Helianthus microcephalus, which literally translates to "little headed" sunflower. It is not as architectural a plant as the previously mentioned species, but the virtual cloud of small, clear yellow (not gold) flowers that appear in profusion from July through September make it worth a spot in the garden. One of the best features of this plant is its burgundy-red fall foliage color, which begins to appear in early fall while myriad yellow flowers are still clearly abundant. Slightly shorter than some, the little-headed sunflower comes in at about 5-6 feet when in bloom and should be spared excess fertilizer or water to keep it standing sturdily upright.

If you truly don't have the room for a larger growing perennial sunflower, then search out the fabulous dwarf form of Helianthus angustifolius named 'Low Down'. I'm not usually one who gets very excited about extremely dwarf forms of plants, but 'Low Down' is one of my exceptions. Topping out at only 1 foot tall, it completely obscures its own foliage with golden yellow flowers in autumn, putting on a spectacular 'Low Down' show!

Glorious Gladiolus

Gladiolus are another of those plants that hold a nostalgic place in my heart. The next door neighbors used to grow rows and rows of them at the far end of the vegetable garden, carefully lifting and storing the corms each autumn and replanting them the following spring for tall spires of summer blooms to cut for neighbors and friends. I'm less inclined to do the "digging and storing" thing, so I thought I'd tell you about one of my favorite perennial gladiolus that lives its life year-round in the garden--no digging, no cleaning, no storing, no replanting!

Meet 'Boone'. Commonly sold as Gladiolus x gandavensis 'Boone', it is now fairly certain that it is actually a form or very early hybrid of Gladiolus primulinus (now lumped into G. dalenii). It is a stalwart garden performer, hardy to at least Zone 5b and with numerous reports of it surviving colder locales. Its stunning golden-apricot blossoms are an almost indescribable color--think of the most luscious apricot sherbet you can imagine and you're almost there--and it flowers for a period of several weeks in mid-summer. And because it's a "glad" it will last beautifully when cut and brought indoors to enjoy, too!

Much more diminutive than the common florist's gladiolus, 'Boone' holds its head high in the garden with no flopping or laying on the neighbors. Green sword-like foliage brings that great vertical element to the garden before the flowers emerge and remains well after they're gone. Discovered near 'Boone' North Carolina on an abandoned homestead, Gladiolus 'Boone' was introduced by plant guru and former proprietor of Holbrook Farm and Nursery, Allen Bush (now the North American rep for German seed company Jelitto) and has become a favorite of every gardener who grows it. Allen is a great friend and the photo you see actually came from his garden when we filmed a segment with him for Volunteer Gardener a couple of years ago.

If 'Boone' has you salivating and tapping the keys to Google the nursery nearest you who offers it for sale, then there is a cousin I need to tell you about, too. If you're going to order 'Boone', then go ahead (you might as well, while you're at it!) and order 'Carolina Primrose', too! It's just as gorgeous in a soft, buttery primrose yellow and you'll want them both, anyway. It's hardy, too, and once you've grown one, you have to grow the other and it will just be easier to get them both now! Go on, it's okay. I won't tell, I promise. Order one and tell the significant other that the other one was a "bonus plant". Oh--you've already used that explanation, I see.....

Well, anyway, tuck some of these magnificent plants into the drier nooks and crannies of the garden and see what happens. They'll reseed themselves very politely into just the right places in the garden and, after a couple of seasons, you'll have just enough to share with all the friends who will be begging for them every time they visit your garden!

Lola

One of the groups of plants that I have always admired--even lusted after--but have never experimented with much is Kniphofia, the "red hot pokers". Even as a child, I remember seeing those full color pictures in the Wayside Gardens catalog (and many others) and thinking that there just couldn't be a much prettier or more impactful flower. I don't know whether it was just the flowers, which looked to me like some sort of fanciful orange fireworks bursting in mid-air, or if I had already started a lifelong love affair with all things "spiky" and sword-like in texture. Probably, it was a combination of the two, even if I didn't know it at the time. That affair carries on today and, I have to admit, it carries on torridly with a Kniphofia named 'Lola'.

It is no secret that I like my plants big, and 'Lola' is certainly a big-boned gal. With spiky green foliage rising to nearly 5 feet tall and as wide and with brilliant orange blossoms approaching a foot long and carried on sturdy stems reaching nearly 7 feet tall, she's one of the biggest of all of the red hot pokers. I'm not sure that any others exceed her in size. I love Tony Avent's description of 'Lola' in his Plant Delights Nursery catalog (which is where I bought mine, by the way, http://www.plantdelights.com/), saying that 'Lola' is, "as we say in the South, a real honker". She's also very well adapted to our climate and has proven her worth both in my garden, as well as the gardens of several clients.

I had just planted my new plant last fall and was concerned this spring that 2 degrees this winter may have been more than 'Lola' could handle. She died all the way down to the ground, leaving no sign of live foliage whatsoever and while I knew that Kniphofia would often resprout from "root cuttings", I was afraid that the crown had been killed and the setback may have amounted to several years' worth of growth. I needed not have any fear. 'Lola' came firing back from below ground (the crown obviously did not freeze), and is even going to have her first flowers, even after a brutal winter.

One of the other things that I love about 'Lola' is her flowering time. The flower spikes are just now emerging and won't peak until around July 1 for me, lasting for approximately a month in good shape (starting next week and lasting until mid-July). Once flowering ceases, the foliage remains great looking, adding bold, spiky texture to the garden for the rest of the season. Kniphofia 'Lola' looks great with Hemerocallis 'Hyperion', Verbena bonariensis, Dahlia 'Bishop of Llandaff' and many other garden plants with similar bloom times. If you like your plants, big, bold and simply fabulous, 'Lola' is your girl!

Hemerocallis 'Double River Wye'

Hello everyone! It has been almost a month since I posted last. A lot of great things have been going on and I have been in the process of moving my office to my home, which has taken a little longer than expected. I've had very limited and extremely slow internet access up until just a few days ago, so now I'll be back on a regular basis. Things are continuing to happen in the garden and there'll be lots to tell as summer progresses.

One of the things that's happening now is the flowering of the daylilies. I only brought one with me to the farm and it's one of my favorites. I found it at a local nursery a few years back and have never seen it again, although I do know that a few places offer it for sale online. It's called 'Double River Wye' and looks almost like a double-flowering form of the old standard 'Hyperion', another one of my absolute favorites. It's just a little smaller in stature than 'Hyperion', standing about 30" tall when its in bloom, with narrow almost grassy foliage. It has multiplied very well, even in a container, and when I do get it in the garden a little later this summer I think I'll be able to divide it into at least three good pieces.

The flowers are almost what I would call a "loose" double, or perhaps even semi-double. They don't have that full, overblown, rose-like appearance that some of the doubles do, and while I like those, too, there is something infinitely more charming about the "looseness" of the petals in this particular flower. It has a charming, old-fashioned kind of appeal. It doesn't re-bloom (or at least hasn't), there are no eyezones or watermarks or piecrust edges, but that doesn't mean it isn't a good garden plant. It presents exceptionally well, with the stems carrying the flowers well above the foliage (one of my biggest pet peeves with many of the modern hybrids is that they often have their flowers buried in the foliage).

I'm anxious to get it in the ground and see what happens when it really has good soil and an unrestricted root run. I think it's going to turn into a great garden plant!

Hellebore Fever

Well, March has certainly come roaring in! For those of you who didn't see it on the news (or experience it personally), parts of Tennessee received nearly a FOOT of snow last Saturday and Sunday. A FOOT!!! I know that to some of you that's pretty average, but in the South, where people (cities) are ill-prepared to handle such events, that's a LOT of snow. Imagine Buffalo or Chicago getting 5-6 feet of snow all at once and that's what we're talking about here. I may be wrong, but I believe I heard that the city of Memphis doesn't even have a snow plow--and they got 6 inches of snow! Snow plow or not, we're just not prepared to handle that kind of snow event around here. I'm still miffed, however, because the entire thing missed Nashville. I'd be hard pressed to call what we got a good dusting. Figures.

Snow aside, the garden is really starting to come to life now. It has been slowly awakening over the past several weeks, but now we're to the point where everyday something new pokes it's head out of the soil. I'm still learning my way around at the new place. I haven't done much digging yet because I still don't know what might be lurking underground, waiting to make its appearance. For instance, what I thought was going to be a convenient path from the front walk to the sideyard appears to have Virginia bluebells planted in it. All winter long I've been trampling a path through the area and now I find little purplish-red sprouts pushing through the soil. They're going to have to move. The path is staying. Same for a couple of clumps of daffodils that have shown themselves in the middle of the path going into the main part of the yard. They won't mind being dug, divided and relocated once summer arrives. That path is staying, too.

The hellebores that survived the winter (the ones in containers took a real beating) are looking glorious. 'Ivory Prince', pictured here, is truly an outstanding garden plant. Its vigor, I'm finding, is second-to-none. The same is true for many of the newer hybrids. Excellent parents have led to excellent progeny and the growth that I'm getting out of many of my new hellebores is nearly double what I'm accustomed to from this group of plants. Some of my favorites are the plants from hellebore guru Marietta O'Byrne, which are being introduced by my friends at Terra Nova Nurseries. The colors are exquisite and the vigor is astounding! A few particular favorites are 'Golden Lotus', the 'Brushstrokes Strain' and the 'London Fog' series. There are several others, too, and there's not a dog among them!

Another group of hellebores that I've been most impressed with is the Brandywine series from good friend and plant guru, Dave Culp. His eye for color, flower size and plant vigor is extraordinary. This is a mixed color strain, but the colors are clear and delicious--I've been like a kid in a candy store--and my very best yellow-flowered plant to date has come from Dave's group, flowering in a clear, unspotted limey-yellow with flowers almost 3 inches across. It absolutely glows in the garden!

The weather forecast is sunny and 70 for Monday, so I'm looking forward to an entire day in the garden! I'll let you know what happens!

Out In A Blaze of Glory

I really thought that we were going to miss out on fall color in Tennessee this year. August and September were horribly dry and the trees all looked so stressed by the beginning of October that I really thought the leaves would just drop without turning. I was wrong. The color has been short-lived, but it did happen. Last week was absolutely stunning--for about 3 days. Before and after those three days were okay, but peak color happened suddenly and the color was fleeting. Oh, there's still some color around, no doubt, but it's not that brilliant, vibrant, oh-my-gosh-would-you-look-at-that kind of color that last Wednesday was all about.

Most of us, when we think of fall color, think of trees and shrubs, but in case you're not familiar with it I want to introduce you to a perennial whose fall color is second-to-none--and it's totally reliable every year! Meet Amsonia hubrichtii. This indestructible native perennial puts on one of the most spectacular fall shows in the garden. Not only that, it's icy blue flowers in early spring and its soft green, feathery foliage in summer make it absolutely indispensible in the garden for about 8 months out of the year. Not bad. Not bad at all.

If you search the internet for more information, you may want to try these alternative spellings, as you'll find it listed under all of them: Amsonia hubrectii, A. hubrictii, A. hubrechtii. I, however, am sticking with Amsonia hubrichtii. It was named for Leslie Hubricht, after all, and his name was spelled h-u-b-r-i-c-h-t. Sorry, it's just a personal pet peeve of mine.

The plant in the photo is nine years old, makes out at about 3 feet high and politely spreads to about 5 feet in diameter by the end of the summer. It doesn't run, it doesn't spread. It does have a serious taproot system and resents being moved once it's established. It will take just about anything you can dish out except for too much shade and very wet feet. Blistering sun? No problem. Squelching heat? It thumbs its nose. Drought? Hardly an issue (though if its exceptionally dry it may go dormant a little early--only to return unharmed next season).

If you don't know Amsonia hubrichtii, you really should take a moment to get acquainted. It will make your fall garden go out in a blaze of glory every year!

Rudbeckia 'Henry Eilers'

Well, I've done it! I've found ANOTHER new favorite plant. Are you surprised? I didn't think so. This time it's a Rudbeckia.

Rudbeckia is a genus that I have always been incredibly fond of. Rudbeckias get a bad rap sometimes because of the market saturation by 'Goldsturm' (which is an outstanding plant, by the way.) There are, however, a LOT of other rudbeckias out there, many of which are simply fabulous garden plants. 'Henry Eilers' is no exception.

I first saw this plant on a garden tour in Columbus, OH about a year ago and was incredibly impressed by it then. We were able to get a few plants of it this spring at the garden center and I planted a few in the display garden where it performed very satisfactorily and was stunning this fall when paired with the royal purple berries of the American beautyberry (Callicarpa americana) that it had woven its way through during the course of the summer.

Where it really performed, though, was in the garden at Christ Church Cathedral in downtown Nashville. I'm not sure if it was the exposure, the irrigation, the good soil, the extra fertilizer or a "perfect storm" of all of the above, but 'Henry Eilers' was the buzz of the garden from July onward and is just now (Oct. 3) finishing up its show!

It's a little taller than some rudbeckias, but considerably shorter than others, so it makes a nice middle-of-the-border plant. When it reaches blooming height, about 4 feet, it's just a tiny bit on the lax side, so I'd recommend pairing it with something shorter and sturdier in front of it that will give it a bit of support. Or pair it with a shrub like the beautyberry in a way that the stems of the rudbeckia can grow up just through the edge of the shrub and be supported that way. Otherwise, you may have to stake. (Well worth any effort it might take.)

In the display garden at Moore & Moore (http://www.mooreandmoore.com/) it was in a leaner, drier part of the bed, so that may have accounted for it being just slightly, slightly less showy. In the other location it was in the richest, blackest, most organic, well-fertilized and irrigated soil we could give it and it absolutely shined! You can see for yourself in the photos above, and I think you'll agree. Put this one on your list for next year! See you in the garden!

Of Sun and Sunflowers

Being a Kansas boy by birth, it seems only natural that I would have a strong affinity for sunflowers. Kansas is, after all, the sunflower state. The wild form of Helianthus annuus grows up and down the roadsides and throughout natural areas across the state. This is not the giant garden form of sunflower that we often see, but a shrubby, multi-stemmed, small-flowered version--the wild form--that sometimes covers acres of land in a sea of yellow blossoms in late summer.

Today, some of my favorite garden flowers are the perennial sunflowers that put on such a spectacular garden show in the summer and fall of each year. These are true perennials that come back from the same rootstock year after year to touch the sky with their golden yellow flowers. They're not all towering giants, of course, but some of my favorites are. For example, the plant in the photograph is Helianthus 'Marc's Apollo' and it's a skyscraper! Not for the faint of heart and not for the small garden, this graceful giant may reach upwards of 12 feet by the time it's in full bloom in mid- to late September. I've made room for it, even though it's a little tall, because the show that it puts on is truly stunning--HUNDREDS of butter yellow flowers for nearly 6 weeks from September all the way 'til frost.

Helianthus salicifolius, the willowleaf sunflower, is another favorite. It's also a giant, but if you pinch the tips out of each stem about mid-June, it will flower at 6 feet or so instead of the nearly 10 feet it can reach otherwise. It has, in my opinion, the most beautiful foliage of all of the sunflowers--almost threadlike in its appearance it is so slender. It's a fantastic texture to add to the perennial garden even when it isn't in bloom.

A little-known species, but another that I simply wouldn't be without is Helianthus microcephala, the little-headed sunflower. Very bushy, almost shrubby in habit, it has a broader leaf like those you would see on Rudbeckia 'Goldsturm' or Echinacea. It flowers a little earlier in the season, usually beginning in July, but the show goes on for months. It is not uncommon for it to still be flowering at the beginning of October when, as luck would have it, it's foliage turns burgundy red! Yellow flowers and burgundy-red foliage! Wow! It's still not a small plant, but it's worth the space.

If you would like to have a sunflower in your garden, but simply don't have the elbow room for one of the larger fellows, look for Helianthus angustifolius 'Low Down'. It's a true genentic dwarf and when in full bloom will only be about 18" tall with a 2-foot spread. I'm usually not a big fan of dwarf forms of plants that should be tall and willowy, but this one's a winner! I promise!

Plant some of these later flowering sunflowers with other spectacular late summer and fall beauties such as Aster oblongifolius 'October Skies' and Callicarpa americana and you'll have a combination that will have the traffic stopping in the street to admire your garden's beauty.

Please note that there really is no need to deadhead your sunflowers. It will do very little to extend their flowering season and besides, the birds (especially the goldfinches) will go absolutely crazy over the seed as it ripens on the plant and this brings an entirely new dimension of beauty to the garden.

An Oldie, But A Goodie!!!

It's a bittersweet day in the garden today. The last blossom of the season has opened on Hemerocallis 'Hyperion' and today is the last day that I will get to enjoy its joyful beauty until next summer rolls around and we get to dance our dance all over again. 'Hyperion' is my favorite of all of the daylilies. No, there are no eyezones or watermarks or ruffles or diamond-dusting on the petals. No, it doesn't re-bloom later in the season. And no, it's probably not going to win any gold medals at any shows, at least not in today's shows. But don't think for one minute that it's a slacker.

Since its introduction in the late 1920's 'Hyperion' has set the standard for daylilies, especially the yellows. What it lacks in modern breeding it makes up for ten times over in hardiness, vigor and outstanding performance year after year after year. It's also tall, slender, beautifully proportioned and fragrant, to boot! The lemon yellow flowers open in what seems to be an endless display of color for at least 6 weeks and in a really good year, close to two months! One of the things that I love most about 'Hyperion' is that the fresh flowers actually open in the evening, so as the current day's flowers are fading, tomorrow's flowers are opening. The soft yellow color glows in the evening garden when most other daylilies have long since bowed their heads and wait for tomorrow's sunrise to open again.

'Hyperion' is also the perfect height--a beautiful mound of very slender, almost grassy, green foliage about 18" tall that provides the perfect backdrop for the lemon yellow flowers which open atop 36"-40" tall stems. That puts them right up there where you don't have to bend over to breathe in their exquisite, citrusy fragrance!

My original clump of 'Hyperion' came from my Aunt Sally, my great aunt on my father's side. She was a fabulous gardener and played an extremely important role in my life as a young gardener, always encouraging me to learn more and sharing her own knowledge with me whenever she could.

That original clump of 'Hyperion' still grows in my mother's garden twenty-five years later--never divided, no special attention--returning year after year with its spectacular show. Now that's what I call a plant deserving of a place in every garden!

Butterfly Weed

Growing up on the Kansas prairie, butterfly weed (Asclepias tuberosa) was a common and favorite sight along the roadsides and across the grassy plains. For those of us who were in tune with these kinds of things, the flowering of the butterfly weed was the official harbinger of summer. It's brilliant orange flowers were impossible to miss, usually in individual splashes here and there in the roadside ditches, but occasionally in brilliant rivers flowing down the hillsides and across the open grassland. These memories from many years ago are still with me today.

I am reminded of it each day as I pull into the driveway and there in full bloom is one of the most spectacular clumps of Asclepias tuberosa I have ever seen. So spectacular, in fact, that I am considering giving it a name and introducing it to the nursery trade. It's a plant that I found a number of years ago that seemed much more robust and a LOT more profuse in its flowering than any other that I had ever seen, so I planted it out to see what would happen. I've kept an eye on it over the years and am convinced that it really does have serious garden potential. It will even re-bloom later in the season if it is deadheaded and given a light dusting of fertilizer after it finishes its initial flowering. I've seen flowers on it as late as September, which is at least two months after most of the others have finished.

When I pulled in this afternoon I noticed a beautiful butterfly fluttering and floating just above the plant. I just happened to have the camera with me and was able to get a couple of good shots before he or she flew off in search of the next great meal. Enjoy!

Lotsa Hosta

As you've likely figured out by now, I haven't met too many plants I don't like. For the few plants that do fall into the "don't like" category, I "don't like" them just as passionately as I "do like" the ones that I do--which is most of them. Are you thoroughly confused by that? Just making sure you're awake. The long and short of it is, there's a pretty clear cut line between the plants that I do like (which is most of them) and the plants I don't (a status reserved for an unfortunate few). I was noticing this morning that the hostas are looking particularly smashing right now, so I thought I'd mention a few that I've grown to love over the years--those which fall into the "do like" category. Here it goes.

Up at the very top of the list is a stunner called 'Golden Sculpture'. I like big hostas. I like small ones, too, but it's the big ones that really get my heart racing. Unfortunately, in the heat of the South, not all of them attain the magnificent size they do in the North. Actually, truth be known, almost none of them do. 'Golden Sculpture' is (almost) an exception to that rule and not only does it attain some size here in the South, it does it in short order--another great attribute. Alot of the big guys are paaaiiiinfully slow down here (and the big hostas are, too). It must be that laidback Southern way of life. Anyway, 'Golden Sculpture' has just outdone itself in every garden I've planted it in, forming a 2 1/2-foot tall, 5-6 foot wide, upright, golden-foliaged, architectural clump in only 3-4 years time from a one gallon pot. Pretty good for one of the big guys.

A few years back, when 'Guacamole' was introduced, I knew we had a hit on our hands! I've been proven right by its outstanding performance, at least here in middle Tennessee and my clumps just keep getting better with time. The great thing is, 'Guacamole' has proven to be a good parent, too! Some great sports have arisen directly from it, as have some great hybrid offspring. Some of the better ones include 'Fried Bananas', an all-gold sport, 'Fried Green Tomatoes', an all green sport and 'Holy Mole', a more robust version of its parent with heavier leaves and more intense variegation. Perhaps the best of all, though, is 'Stained Glass'--a 'Guacamole' mutation that is supremely vigorous, with thick leathery leaves and brilliant gold and green coloration! No shade garden should be without this plant. To top it off (literally), fragrant lavender flowers rise well above the foliage in late summer.

On the smaller side, perhaps the finest miniature hosta ever to come along is 2008's Hosta of the Year, 'Blue Mouse Ears'. You guessed it! When the leaves unfurl they look just exactly like a little clump of blue mouse ears. And wait until you see the new variegated sport called 'Cat and Mouse' with chartreuse centers on a brilliant blue background. Be still my beating heart! Speaking of miniatures, if you're into truly tiny plants you definitely should check out Hosta 'Pandora's Box'. In just over a decade, this little plant has gained star status in the hosta world, having originally sold for $600 at the 1997 hosta convention and now appearing in gardens everywhere! It is truly one of my favorites and has simply outdone itself in a trough garden where it's easier to keep the slugs and snails at bay.

Remember not to judge hostas by what they look like in the pot. Most of them have, for lack of a better term, a "juvenile" form and an "adult" form and these two forms often vary greatly in their appearance. Case in point, Hosta 'June'. For many years I asked "Why would anyone want to grow that? It's not very pretty." Then I planted one in a client's garden. The second year I was as unimpressed as I was the first. The third year was moderately better, so instead of composting it, I gave it one more chance. In her fourth spring, 'June' was a bustin' out all over, as they say, and the rest is history. Now I wouldn't be without her. The same goes for some of our most popular hostas like 'Strip Tease', 'Hanky Panky', 'Paul's Glory', 'Paradise Glory' and the perhaps slightly lesser-known, but beautiful, 'Captain Kirk'. It goes for nearly all hostas, really.

You know the old saying, "The first year they sleep, the second year they creep and the third year they leap." Well, it's true. And sometimes it takes them until the 4th or even the 5th year before they really develop into the fully mature forms that the pretty picture on the tag shows. So my advice is, "Don't give up," and give them a bare minimum of three years in the ground before you start passing judgment on them.

Some new varieties (new to me, but not necessarily new to the industry) that I'm trying are 'Old Glory', 'Prairie Fire', 'Corkscrew', 'Ginsu Knife' and 'Liberty'. By the way, if you happen to run into 'Liberty' at the nursery, buy it immediately! It is a brighter and more boldly variegated form of the magnificent 'Sagae' and is absolutely glowing in my garden right now. It gets big and it gets their in fairly short order. My three-year-old clump is probably going to be somewhere between 3 and 4 feet across this season from an original single-eye division in a one-gallon pot. Not bad. Not bad at all.

I am by no means a hosta collector. I only have about 25-30 plants, but I like to think that I have reasonably discerning taste and I'm also fairly hard-nosed about the fact that the plants must be vigorous and robust. I'm not one to sit around waiting for ten years while some pathetic little plant develops at a snail's pace into a mediocre offering in the shade garden, where space is at a premium. The ones I mentioned above are few of my top performers and I'm sure there will be more to come in the very near future.

Yikes! It's A Yucca!

I love yuccas! If you've been reading along, you've probably figured out by now that there aren't too many plants I don't love, but I really, REALLY love yuccas! They're the agaves of cold-climate gardens. They give us that (mostly) stiff, upright, sword-like texture that is so important in the garden. I mean, really, what's not to love? They're tough, drought tolerant, evergreen; they come in a wide array of sizes, habits and forms. They offer up foliage in green, grey, blue, chartreuse and any number of variegated combinations! When they flower, they put on an amazing show that usually lasts for several weeks and then they develop seedpods that carry the interest right on through the fall and winter. It seems to me that they are very nearly perfect!

Although I've rarely (maybe never) met a yucca I didn't like, I do have a few standout favorites that I feel the need to tell you about. The first is Yucca rostrata 'Sapphire Skies'. This is a recent introduction from Sean Hogan at Cistus Nursery (http://www.cistus.com/) and is set to take that gardening world by storm. Sean selected this form from a batch of seedlings for its powder blue color and it is now being grown from tissue culture and introduced widely in the nursery trade. It is pictured at the top of this entry in a photo from Terra Nova Nurseries (http://www.terranovanurseries.com/). Yucca rostrata is one of the hardiest of all trunk-forming yuccas and should perform splendidly well into Zone 5. In about 10 years time you can expect a magnificent specimen with a rounded head of powder-blue leaves atop a 4-foot trunk.

Another recent introduction and a truly spectacular plant is Yucca filamentosa 'Color Guard', with the most distinct golden variegation of any cultivar I've grown. It has far surpassed any other yucca in the garden where foliage color is concerned. The leaves are brilliant creamy gold with a deep green edge. In winter, the yellow variegation remains strong and is suffused with shades of deep, rich pink when grown in full sun. Talk about a spectacular combination! It is quickly becoming the industry standard for variegated yuccas and is, or soon will be, widely available at your local garden centers.

Now, with all of that carrying on over 'Color Guard', I do have to pay due respect to several other variegated yuccas that are more than deserving of your attention. Another that I have grown for a number of years and that has proven outstanding is Yucca gloriosa 'Variegata'. The leaves of this beautiful plant are blue-green with a lovely gold margin that changes to a light, creamy yellow during the summer months. In winter, it too takes on shades of pink around its edges when the weather turns cold. Yucca gloriosa is another of the trunk-forming yuccas, though slightly less hardy. I have had it in my Zone 6 garden for 6 years and it has flourished. In warmer climates you can expect it to form a trunk up to 4 feet tall after several years. One warning: The leaves on Yucca gloriosa are very rigid and viciously armed at the tip with a long black spine. Site it accordingly, i.e. probably not right next to the back door where you're carrying groceries in each week.

Yucca recurvifolia 'Gold Ribbons' is another bright spot in the garden--literally! One of the largest yuccas, it may reach upwards of 4 feet in diameter and, with some age, may form a trunk up to 6 feet tall. This takes some time, though, so don't let its size scare you off. The color is to die for! Brilliant gold leaves with deep, emerald green margins are soft, flexible and are not spined so no worries about backing into it while weeding! Another form that is occasionally offered is Yucca recurvifolia 'Variegata' with pendant, blue leaves edged in chartreuse/gold. With time it, too, will form a spectacular specimen. Both of these plants are available from Plant Delights Nursery (http://www.plantdelights.com/), for one, and 'Gold Ribbons' is also available from Yucca Do (http://www.yuccado.com/). Additional variegated forms you might be interested in include Yucca filamentosa 'Bright Edge', Yucca aloifolia 'Marginata', Yucca filamentosa 'Golden Sword' and Yucca filamentosa 'Garland Gold'. All are worthy garden plants.

I would be entirely remiss in leaving out the beautiful green and blue-green foliaged yuccas that have been garden stalwarts for so many years. Yucca glauca, Yucca filamentosa, Yucca rostrata (the species), Yucca baccata and several others all offer fine architecture to the garden throughout the year. Their candelabras of ivory-white bells in early to late summer are added bonuses when they occur (some more regularly than others)! This is not an exhaustive list, rather it is something to whet your horticultural appetite. I also tried not to list plants that wouldn't be hardy reasonably far north--at least Zone 6 and several into Zone 5. Yucca glauca will easily go into Zone 4. For those of you who live in Zones 7 and warmer, your choices increase 10-fold. Everyone should have a love affair with yuccas!

Favorite Fall Flowers

(Originally Posted October 16, 2007 on MySpace)
Hello everyone! We’ve returned from our brief weekend in Branson, MO with my family and had a wonderful time. We were able to see a couple of good shows, spent a day at Silver Dollar City (which was made all the more fun by having my 10-year-old cousin with us, so we had a good excuse for riding every ride we could), and also were able to do some fun antiquing and shopping along the way. There wasn’t much time for R&R, as my family is one of those who is up at the crack of dawn and goes until late at night and after all, we really only had 3 days. Needless to say, I needed a day of vacation after I got back from my vacation!

That said, some good things happened while I was away and being away for a few days always makes me appreciate the plants more when I return. There are several that are looking particularly well right now in the autumn garden and I thought I would mention a few of them. Begonia grandis, the hardy begonia, is stunning right now with its big “angelwing” leaves, red stems and fleshy pink flowers. It’s one of my favorite shade plants and no garden should be without it. It spreads itself around the garden, but in a polite way by way of small bulbils that form in the leaf axils, fall off the plant and sprout wherever they land. They hardly have any roots at all, so if they come up where I don’t want them I simply pull them out or dig them up and give them to friends.

The fall anemones have been flowering for the better part of a month now and no matter how much I swear at them for spreading a little too vigorously in some places, I can’t bear the thought of being without them at this time of year. My absolute favorite is Anemone x hybrida ‘Honorine Jobert’ ( or ‘Honorine Joubert’ in some references; I’m honestly not sure which is correct). This is saying something, because I am typically NOT a fan of white flowers. But the strong, sturdy stems, the excellent presentation and the cleanliness of the plant–the petals fall to the ground and don’t turn brown while still hanging on the stalk–lead me to love this grand dame of the autumn flower garden. Others that I like almost as much are ‘September Charm’, which flowers a little earlier in the season and is pink, ‘Whirlwind’, a double-flowering white, and ‘Prince Henry’ (’Prinz Heinrich’) with a fluffy, double pink flower. There are several other cultivars, as well and most are readily available through mailorder, if not at your local garden center. Truth be known, I have yet to meet a Japanese anemone I didn’t like.

Chrysanthemums have gotten a bad rap over the past two decades. This is because they have been ruined by the hybridizers who have worked and worked to get them to form perfect little cupcakes covered in a bazillion unattractive, frumpy flowers in a horrific range of colors that Mother Nature never intended to exist. But if you’ll get back to the true, old-fashioned perennial garden mums there are some lovely plants that will make your autumn garden sing! Cultivars like ‘Clara Curtis’, ‘Sheffield Pink’, ‘Ryan’s Yellow’, ‘Ryan’s Pink’, ‘Mary Stoker’ and others are truly perennial and put on a spectacular show in the garden every autumn. Yes, they can be floppy–so pinch them. Or better yet, just behead them with the hedge shears a couple of times between mid-May and mid-July and be done with it. Then let them grow and fill out from Mid-July onward to flower in October at a manageable height and without flopping all over their neighbors! My two favorites in this category, because I LOVE yellow, are ‘Ryan’s Yellow’ and ‘Mary Stoker’. ‘Ryan’s Yellow’ is a stunning beauty because the buds are copper when the petals first begin to emerge and then turn soft, straw yellow upon opening. ‘Mary Stoker’ is a clear, buttery golden yellow throughout its display and she also has beautiful deep green, deeply cut foliage that adds to the plant’s good looks.

A discussion on autumn flowers wouldn’t be complete without mentioning Tricyrtis, the toad lilies. I have tried for many years to fall in love with these plants, but I have to be honest and say that our love affair has been a somewhat tepid one. I do like them. Don’t get me wrong. They occupy places in almost every garden I work in. They flower at a time of year when little else is happening and I like the subtle beauty they impart to the garden. I have been most impressed, in my own garden, with a cultivar called ‘Lightning Strike’, with boldly splotched and splashed yellow and green foliage. It looks good all through the season, even when it’s not in flower. I tend to like the hybrids and cultivars of Tricyrtis formosana moreso than those of Tricyrtis hirta. The formosana-types just seem to perform better here in the south and aren’t so crispy looking by the end of the summer. There are some fairly obscure species that seem like they might have some potential and my friend Dan Heims at Terra Nova Nurseries is doing some really nice breeding with a number of them–especially the yellow-flowered forms. So I’m still waiting for this sort of tepid love affair to become a torrid romance. If it doesn’t happen, I’m still not kicking them out of the bed entirely!

The other group of plants I must mention are the salvias. This refers specifically to the (mostly) annual or tender perennial types such as Mexican sage (Salvia leucantha), forsythia sage (Salvia madrensis), pineapple sage (Salvia elegans), the Texas sages (Salvia greggii) and hybrids such as Salvia ‘Anthony Parker’ and others. I am not going to get into an exhaustive discussion about salvias–at least not now. I may devote a full spot to them later on. But the fall garden, especially the sunny garden, would be totally incomplete without these plants. Many of these will be annual in colder zones, but so be it. Many of them are annual for me in here in Tennessee and I grow them anyway. How many other plants will grow from a 4″ pot to 3′ x 3′ shrub in one season and then go on to cover themselves in a profusion of flowers for anywhere from 2-3 months late in the season? Not that many! Salvias are definitely worth a little research and investment. Also, they are some of the last plants of the season that the hummingbirds will go berserk for as they begin their migration back south for the winter, so do it for the little hummers!

Winter-flowering Hardy Cyclamen

(Originally Posted November 16, 2007 on MySpace)
It’s just about that time of year when one of my favorite garden plants begins popping up around the garden. Cyclamen coum inhabits the shady corners and crannies, seeding itself hither and yon, but always in a welcomed way. I never tire of it and if, perhaps, it lands in just the wrong spot its root system is so shallow that the tubers can easily be lifted in one scoop of the shovel and moved without the plant ever knowing it was relocated. The main show will occur a little later in the winter, usually February, but here and there over the next three to four months the flowers will appear from time to time, never allowing winters blues to get the best of us. The foliage begins appearing in late September and October and the green and silver-patterned leaves are stunning throughout the winter. I love Cyclamen coum combined with Helleborus foetidus. Their shows overlap nicely and the brighter pinks and fuchsias of the cyclamen are glorious with the chartreuse green of the hellebore blossoms–and they thrive in the same growing conditions.

There have been some selections of Cyclamen coum made by a few enterprising gardeners and nurserymen, but unfortunately most of this has occurred across the pond and many of the varieties are not available stateside. However, there are a few places that are beginning to offer selected varieties. Mostly, though it has been the efforts of the Ashwood and Tile Barn nurseries, along with a few others in England, who have made the majority of the introductions at this point. Here in the states, a few plants were available at one time from Heronswood Nursery, but alas, all they offer now is a seed grown mix. My buddy Barry Glick, at Sunshine Farm and Gardens in Renick, West Virginia (http://www.sunfarm.com/) is also growing Cyclamen coum by the thousands and I’d be willing to bet that he has some fine plants set aside for introduction at some point. A place in Indiana called Munchkin Nursery & Gardens also lists it in their mail-order catalog. They can be found at http://www.munchkinnursery.com/. I’ve never ordered anything from them, so can’t speak to the kinds of plants they supply, but at least they list it–and a nice selection of other woodland and shade garden plants!

Cyclamen coum combines well with many woodland and shade garden plants, including our most common inhabitants like hostas, hellebores and ferns, but they’ll also thrive amongst the roots of other shrubs and trees–and actually prefer it there! When planting cyclamen, be sure that the top of the tuber is exposed above the soil line–yes, that’s correct–the top of the tuber just barely above the soil line. Then mulch very lightly over the top with something lightweight and easy for the leaves and flowers to push through, such as pine straw, soil conditioner, or a very light dusting of partially composted leaves. Excellent drainage is essential for success with cyclamen and exposing the top of the tuber ensures that water will not settle in and rot the crown. Competition from tree roots also helps and this makes Cyclamen coum one of the best perennials for planting directly in the root zone of larger trees.

Well, it’s a beautiful day here and I need to get to work, but I hope this tidbit of information about one of my favorite garden plants has whetted your appetite enough to do a little research and include one of my garden favorites in your own garden.