Panicum ‘Cloud Nine’ (Switch Grass) is now in full bloom and this vignette is now complete.
Monthly Archives: September 2023
No plant in my garden is more fun than the Willow-Leaved Sunflower (Helianthus salicifolius):
In certain spots, it’s close to 8 feet tall. In others, it’s tangled in a war with its neighbor. Or it’s bent at a 90 degree angle like the pic above. It’s multiplied like mad over the years and I allow it. Wherever it shows up is acceptable. It’s too dynamic to not let it do its thing.
In spring, the emerging foliage is twisty and dainty and frilly and airy and fascinating and I’m constantly asked about it. To get that level of interest in spring/early summer and then the mass of yellow blooms in mid to late summer is almost too good to be true.
As you probably know about me by now, I long for “wild” but desire and long for “order”. It’s a hell of a tightrope walk to strike the proper balance. I’m getting better at it, but it still keeps me up at night. It’s dumb, but also 100% true.
Willow-Leaved Sunflower tickles the devil over my left shoulder.
And pisses off the other holy dude over my right.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Quick note: for those of you who get notified of my new posts via email, I just found out I’m limited in the number of emails I can send per week so you won’t be seeing the email notifications until I can work something out. Or pay up to allow the vendor to send more.
More to come. My apologies for the mix-up.
For today, I give you a mass of Obedient plant or Physostegia virginiana ‘Vivid’.
I came to acquire these through “what the hell, I’ll try it” and ordered three online. A decade later and I think I’ve cornered the market in the Northeast U.S. They spread underground through rhizomes and fill an empty spot so, so quickly. I’ve spent many a fall evening ripping out a few by hand, relocating them to where they can fill another void.
Rinse and repeat.
I’ve had no issues controlling them. If they wander where I don’t want them to wander, I pull them out with ease. And your factoid for the day: They are referred to as “obedient” since you can bend their stems in any way your heart desires and they’ll remain that way.
Yes, I do it on the regular. For fun.
My only issue to date: I use them as a groundcover in the front of the garden beds but their legs aren’t always so handsome. Then can yellow a bit as you can see in the pic above. Because of that, my mind has determined that I need a shorter groundcover in front of this groundcover to hide the discoloring. But it has to be tall enough to actually do just that.
The design game never ends.
And we’d never have it any other way.
Day 3. I like this. We’re .008% of the way there (check my math, I believe 2024 is a Leap Year).
For today, a current pic of a coneflower that appears to be in the process of being devoured by a surrounding Baptisia (False Indigo).
This has been an interesting development from spring to summer. Here is that same pic, months earlier (and yes I’m breaking my one photo per day rule but I need it to prove my point so for the love of God, don’t hold this against me):
A beautifully blooming Baptisia but little did I know that there was a coneflower slowly emerging from within it. Once the Baptisia stopped blooming, I made the difficult decision to cut it to the ground as it began to flop. But I was rewarded with the benefit of exposing the coneflower in its wake. The photo below is again, the same section of garden, post Baptisia removal.
So what’s my point? I loved how this whole thing played out.
The Baptisia looked beautiful until it didn’t.
The coneflower was then there, happy to take the lead role.
As time progressed, the Baptisia returned and created the cool mash-up you saw in the original pic.
I couldn’t have created or planned this any better. And that’s what I love so much about gardening: the surprises. We plan, plan, plan and so often it fails, fails, fails. The harder we try, the worse off we are. This is a lesson in sitting back and enjoying the process. Enjoying that we don’t always have control.
Enjoying the magic.
I did it.
I made it to day two.
Rejoice.
Your pic of the day:
My daughter was volunteering at a half marathon (she’s so good) and I, ahem, volunteered to bring her and hang around for three hours until she was done. Beyond seeing her to her destination and ensuring her safety, my visit served two additional purposes.
- To eat at a restaurant that I hadn’t been to in years, specifically to gouge on their killer buffalo chicken pizza. And to also reminisce while there as my wife and I had partied on the roof of the restaurant while in college (don’t ask). I clearly recall saying to my wife during one party, while still in the courting phase, “Well at least if the roof collapses below us, we can make dinner for everyone.” She should’ve known what she was in for then.
- To scout nearby nurseries for plants.
Mission was more than accomplished.
With a full belly, I shopped and ended up picking up eight new perennials and one grass. We’ll get to that gem of a grass on another day. And just so you know, the eight perennials were made up of five of one type and three of another type. So while the total was an even number, the sum was all about odd numbers.
Always odd.
At checkout, the dude ringing me up saw my five mountain mint plants and congratulated me on such a fine purchase. He proceeded to share his experience with mountain mint and how cool it was to see all the …
I cut him off before he could say any more.
My response: “Let me guess, the blue winged wasp?” He smiled a big ass smile and we shared a moment. It took all my strength not to give him a bear hug.
I love the blue winged wasp, more formally known as Scolia dubia. They fly from mountain mint to mountain mint and while it’s a struggle to capture them with a camera, I enjoy the challenge and I enjoy hanging out with them.
I’ve since bought six more of these Pycnanthemum muticum and patiently wait for them to eagerly spread in the garden.
I’m going to attempt something new. It will more than likely fail. But who cares? It seems like a good idea at this exact moment so I’m going to run with it.
The premise: post one photo of my garden each day with a corresponding blurb. Maybe it will be as simple as “I like it” or “How bad does this look?” or maybe I’ll share the background on when I first planted it or what inspired me to try it in the first place. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll shake your head in awe at my my magical abilities or you’ll shake your head in disgust, questioning my sanity. Maybe even a combination of all four. Fun, right?
And here’s the kicker: I’m going to attempt to do it for 365 days straight. One year. Straight. Never missing a day. This is where you guffaw and say, “Sure, John. I’m sure that will happen.” Doubt me, I dare you.
So here’s day 1, September 4th, 2023. Enjoy.
What you are looking at below, the tall purple-blooming perennials, are Vernonia noveboracensis or New York Ironweed.
My inspiration to purchase it: After a tour of the High Line in New York City, I vowed to find taller perennials I could add throughout my garden. This plant looked awesome growing out of the abandoned railroad tracks. Wild and weedy, in a good way. And also super tall. Striking and a focal point.
My biggest design complaint/obsession in my own garden was a lack of much needed height to break up similar heights on so many of my other perennials and shrubs. And I wanted something natural that fit my aesthetic and would thrive in my conditions. Translation: something native. Translation: NY Ironweed.
I planted three of these, four years ago and it wasn’t until year three that they popped, reaching a height of close to seven feet. My biggest concern is mistakenly pulling the newly emerging plants in spring when I’m ferociously weeding. But I studied what they look like in that state to prevent such a tragedy and made sure to not pull them where they reseeded in other areas of the garden. Will they become unruly with all of the reseeding? Bring it on, I can handle it.
Here’s to day one of the Daily Garden Photo initiative, even if it only lasts one day.