Pregnant perennials

As I was editing Ann Tice's article on reseeding annuals for Sunday's column, I got to thinking about some of the perennials I grow that also like to spread themselves around a bit. The only one on my list that comes near to what I would call 'invasive' is the brunnera. But that could just be because its baby-blue flowers captivate me every spring and I'm loath to pull any of them out!

Some favorites:


Rose campion (Lychnis coronaria)
When I first planted this biennial (or short-lived perennial), it looked a bit 'sparse' to my eye. But over the years as it's sown itself among my other perennials, it's grown on me. The flowers are small, but a knockout magenta color that is really set off by the fuzzy, silvery foliage. Two-three feet tall. Likes full sun and soil on the dry side, but not fussy.



Veronica 'Waterperry'
Unlike most veronicas, 'Waterperry' is a low-growing creeper (only an inch or so high in my garden). It forms tiny lavender-blue flowers from late April into May and the shiny foliage is evergreen. It is filling in under its bedfellows and around the pavers in my paths. I keep wondering if I should pull it, but I don't. Full to part sun.



Brunnera macrophylla
There are new varieties around that have variegated or silver foliage, but I grow the original. I think the dark green foliage sets off the dainty, pale-blue flowers to their best advantage. After those flowers fade (around Memorial Day) the leaves get larger, more puckered and grow heart-shaped, forming a large clump. They can mug out in summer. Just cut them back and fresh new growth will quickly fill in. Best in shade, but will tolerate some sun if kept moist. Twelve-18 inches tall and wide.



Geranium pratense 'striatum'
I originally started this geranium from seed as 'Splish Splash,' which was supposed to have flecks of lavender on its white petals. Only one of six plants came true from seed, but the others (solid blues and whites) were hardy and lovely in their own right. They are the ones that have reseeded around my garden. Grows 18-24 inches high and does well in sun or part shade.





European wild ginger (Asarum europaeum)
I love this low-growing evergreen groundcover. Its heart-shaped, shiny dark green leaves seem impervious to slugs or disease. Asarum does best in shade, but tolerates some sun if kept well watered. Otherwise it will brown.





Lady's mantle (Alchemilla mollis)
Another plant that delights me. After a rain or even with the morning dew, its fuzzy leaves capture tiny water droplets that glimmer like diamonds. The foliage is a soft gray-green and scalloped. Clusters of tiny chartreuse flowers are held above the foliage in late spring and early summer. Can brown out later in the season. Cut it to the ground and it will quickly recover -- but, of course, you won't get as many babies. Grow in full to part sun. (That's caryopteris on the right.)



False indigo (Baptisia australis)
A stately plant with gorgeous blue flowers on dense, bushy mounds of soft blue-green foliage. Blooms mid to late spring. If you don't deadhead it and allow the black seed pods to form, they will remain attractive well into winter and also produce offspring. Very long-lived. Full sun to part shade. Three-four feet tall.





Columbine (Aquilegia 'McKana Hybrids')
These began as three parent plants six or seven years ago. The parents have all died (not wild about my heavy soil), but seedlings made their way to areas where they are happier. Mine are mostly pinks and purples now, but this variety comes in a range of pastel colors. Plants grow 24-30 inches tall and prefer part shade.



Caryopteris
I have two varieties of bluebeard. One, 'Worcester Gold,' has chartreuse foliage and I like it best. The other one, whose name I can no longer remember, has blue-green foliage. Both are producing lavender-blue tufts of flowers now, at a time when my garden needs some color. They prefer full sun and well-drained soil. My oldest original plant is about six years old. I planted two at the same time and the other succumbed within a couple of years. Treat caryopteris as a 'die back' plant, but don't cut it back in spring until bud break.

Impulse buying

Instead of spending this weekend cutting back all the mildewed and fungus-riddled foliage in my garden, I did what any red-blooded gardener worth her weight in compost would do -- I went plant shopping. I'd only planned to purchase one rose, but when I got to the nursery they had one of those "buy 'x' number of plants and get 'x' number of plants free" sales going on and who could resist that?

I came away with my rose and some calamintha (I'd been impressed with the plant when I saw it during a photo shoot for our design series earlier this summer) plus something else that I thought was a veronica.

Seems I'm dyslexic as well as impulsive, though. The plant is actually vernonia -- something I've never heard of before.

I bought it because the tag said 'native' and I had a tough, outer-border spot that I was trying to fill. And also because it said it would bloom in late summer-fall (always a down time in my garden). But the main reason that it caught my eye was its color -- a deep violet that the photo just doesn't capture.

No, it didn't look like any of my other veronicas. But then, most of my other veronicas don't look like each other either.

Turns out vernonia glauca is actually a member of the aster family. Its common name is upland ironweed. (Now that sounds like something I ought to be able to grow!)

If any of you have this plant, I'd love to know more about it. I either want to be able to dance the dance of joy for getting such a bargain or console myself with the fact that at least I didn't pay full price.

Too much rain?

Thanks to the deluxe, remote rain gauge that my husband gave me for Mother's Day this year, I am able to report to you that I've had 6.3 inches of rain in my garden during the last week. And another 1-2 inches are expected later on today.

I'm blessed to not have any areas of standing water, but really, how much rain is too much?

I asked Jim Etheridge, chairman and professor of Agricultural and Horticultural Sciences at Joliet Junior College, that question this morning and thought you might find his answer interesting:

M.E.-"Is it possible to have too much rain in the garden even if I don't have any standing water? And, is there anything that I can do to protect my plants at this point?"


J.E.-"Great appropriate question.

I do have standing water in my yard -- about 6 inches of it. But I have alder, taxodium, swamp azalea and ilex (holly) that grow in standing water. They are actually loving it because the last five years they have had it dry. (The area) was planted in 'wet plants' just for this purpose.

If you have not planned for (this kind of) event, the question really changes. It is not too much water that kills plants, but rather the lack of oxygen (that rain saturated soil causes).

Tulips, lilum and other fall planted bulbs that are native to the mountains do not like (saturated soils) at all. Going into fall 'wet' will surly rot them out.

Grasses, in general, can go 7-10 days without air and then they are pretty much finished. In trees, watch for early drop of either green leaves immediately or yellow leaves in about a week. That is their stress response (telling us) they can no longer support the leaves and are dropping them. That only compounds the problem.

Warm windy days with low humidity are your best cure."

Guess we'll all be praying for those...

Hosta standouts

I grow hostas for their foliage, not their flowers. (In fact, I snip off the flowers on all but my fragrant varieties.) That means that the plants need to be workhorses -- to look good all season long, not just for the short bloom period that some of my perennials get by with.

Some hostas live up to my expectations. Many don't: They're too quickly chewed by slugs or earwigs or suffer brown edges and spots from too much sun or too little water.

Those that are looking good right now -- in August of a tropics-like summer -- warrant a blue ribbon in my book. (Actually, after I got to researching them, I discovered that all three of my favorites really are award winners!)

My current accolades go to 'Regal Splendor,' 'Guacamole' and 'June.'



Regal Splendor is a variegated version of its parent, 'Krossa Regal.' A truly majestic hosta, this upright grower falls into the 'giant' category and can grow up to three feet tall and six feet wide. On the blue side. It was named 'Hosta of the Year' for 2003.

The American Hosta Grower's Association named 'Guacamole' its Hosta of the Year for 2002. The honor was well earned. I love the shiny chartreuse leaves that are edged in blue. It's growing directly beneath a large maple and still hasn't suffered from slugs or browning leaves. Another plus is its intensely fragrant flowers.

I just planted 'Guacamole' last fall, so I'm not sure how large it will get in my garden, but references say 18 to 20 inches high and 26 to 28 inches wide.

I've recommended the hosta 'June' before, but I just can't say enough good things about this plant! The 2001 Hosta of the Year, June's bright yellow leaves have wide, irregular blue margins and their thick texture make them extremely resistant to slugs and other pests. A sport of 'Halcyon,' June is petite, growing about a foot tall and two feet wide. Everyone should have this hosta.

Liar, liar pants on fire

On Friday I wrote how the garden was calling to me; how she was whispering sweet nothings in my ear and inviting me out to 'her place.'

Well, by Saturday morning at 6 a.m. I was outside -- cup of coffee in hand -- taking a slow tour of my borders. And you know what I discovered? My garden is a hussy! She lied. There wasn't a single 'glory' to be seen. Just lots and lots of mugged out lamium and stachys and phlox and coneflowers. Oh, sure, a few leggy 'Rozanne' geraniums were still prancing about, but really. Talk about being disillusioned. I went back in the house and spent the rest of the day sulking (albeit while I scrubbed tile.)

The call of the wild

I know that this will come as a shock to many of you, but I actually do have a life outside of the garden. And, right now, it's a pretty busy one. I spent last weekend babysitting for the twins (the BEST!) and this week planning a 90th birthday party (no, not my own...). The whole family will be coming in for that, so you know that I've got to do some serious housecleaning this weekend.

But the garden keeps calling to me. Not in a bad way. No 'Get out hear and weed me!' or "Can't you see this fungus here?' Just a gentle, 'I miss you. Come and see what glories I hold."

I want very much to answer that call...

Should I be worried?

I visited the Cincinnati Flower and Garden Show three or four year ago and while I was there I bought a few plants. (I don't think I've ever gone anywhere and not 'bought a few plants!') Anyway, one of the ones I came home with was gooseneck loosestrife (Lysimachia clethroides). The vendor told me that the plant was vigorous to the point of invasiveness, but I was taken with the slender, tapered flower heads, which do indeed remind me of a goose.

I planted it in less than ideal conditions (dry, just part sun) to try to limit its spread and I must have done a good job because it hasn't moved an inch.

I don't know if that should make me happy or sad.

If it's really a bear to keep in bounds once it takes off, I guess I'm glad. But as it stands, the plant is beginning to make me doubt my ability as a gardener. If I can't even grow a vigorous-to-the-point-of-invasive plant, I may be forced to turn in my Master Gardener patch...

Stressed out

I read it somewhere last week but, of course, can't remember where now. The article said that plants (established ones, at least) should not be watered just because they wilt under the midday sun. Instead, you should stick with the '1-inch a week' rule unless your plants are drooping in the morning--after a cool night's rest. It also said that this stress would actually strengthen the plant. (I guess it's that old 'what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger' theory.)

Have you heard this before? Do you practice it?

I've always been told that stress weakens a plant and opens it up to all kinds of diseases and pests.

Now, I'm confused...

Cardinal facts

Her feathers blend nicely with the foliage, but that orange beak is a dead giveaway among the pink roses.

At first I thought I'd run across another crazed animal in the garden. Who ever heard of a bird nesting in August? But turns out my ignorance was showing.

After doing a bit of research I discovered that Illinois' state birds actually hatch two sets of fledglings every year - one in spring and another in late summer (although August is pushing it a bit).

I also discovered that cardinals are monogamous. And that the courting process begins with the male showing off his handsome physique and then taking the female something good to eat. (Not so different from dancing and dinner...)

Chicks hatch in just 11 to 13 days (vastly different than nine months!) and are ready to leave the nest in one to two weeks. (Our daughter was 25.)

While the female is incubating the eggs, the male brings her food (think pickles and ice cream) and sometimes he'll even sit on the eggs himself. (Although that fine physique was nowhere to be seen the other night when we were getting two inches of driving rain...) Both parents care for their offspring once they hatch. (Much better than gulls who've been known to eat their young.)

A few other cardinal facts:
The oldest wild cardinal banded by researchers lived at least 15 years and 9 months.
Male and female cardinals use "chip" calls to keep contact with their mate and to signal alarm.
Cardinals eat weed and sunflower seeds, grains, fruits and insects such as boll weevils, cutworms, and caterpillars.
Cardinals have actually become more common over the past 200 years, with approximately 100,000,000 of them currently living worldwide.

Hummingbirds love it

There's not a lot of color in the shady part of my garden at the moment. I've deadheaded the hosta and most of the astilbe, and the tricyrtis, cimicifuga, acontium and chelone are not flowering yet.

There is one bright spot, though--the lobelia. Wow! What a punch of color right when I need it. A few years ago I picked up some Lobelia speciosa in something called 'Compliment Mix.' The flowers turned out to be vibrant shades of magenta, purple and pink.

Speciosa is said to be longer-lived and more tolerant of soil types and moisture conditions than its parents; hybrids of fulgens, cardinalis and siphilitica. Mine are just a few years old, so I can't really say whether or not they'll survive to a ripe old age. But while they are here, they are breathtaking. The tubular flowers, which hummingbirds love, come atop stiff, alternate-leafed stalks about two feet tall. If I keep watering them during this dry time, they should continue to bloom into September.

A bad rap

I'm thinking of starting a new career as a rap singer. The idea came to me this morning after I noticed that the clematis next to my front door had developed a bad case of wilt.

It's still pretty raw, of course, but the first version of my song goes something like this:


I don't know why you do me like you do
I prune you and pamper you and still you're untrue

I thought we were friends, now that's come to an end
'Cause you got the wilt and I'm tired of all the guilt

So, out you go -- forget about the dough
I'll get someone new who won't do what you do

Maybe Ipomoea, Cobaea or Lathyrus
Them ladies won't be making no fuss

Still, if they don't make the grade
You know I'll be getting out my spade


OK...

So, now I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't quit my day job just yet.