Posts Tagged ‘Pink’

Phlomis tuberosa - Hill Farm, June 2011. Image: HFN

Phlomis tuberosa – Hill Farm, June 2011. Apologies for the poor image quality, as it was taken in the evening, after rain. I have some better photos somewhere, from the pre-digital camera era, but this shall have to suffice for now. Image: HFN

Perennial. Zone 2. Lamiaceae, formerly Labiatae. Eastern Europe, Turkey, Iran, Siberia. A plant of steppes and dry meadows.

The quirky Phlomis genus has always rather fascinated me. Without any real hope of having them succeed, I’ve labouriously grown from hard-to-germinate seed and promptly lost their first winters the beautiful yellow-flowered Phlomis fruticosa (Jerusalem Sage) and P. russeliana (Turkish Sage). “Root hardy to Zone 5,” say those who should know, but sadly that doesn’t seem to be good enough. But I will doubtless try again, for I’ve just been through the Mediterranean section of Van Dusen Garden in Vancouver, and even in its autumn disarray Phlomis fruticosa looks darned good, all velvet foliage and intricate seed heads.

Phlomis fruticosa - Jerusalem Sage - a true Mediterranean plant, shrubby and silver-leaved. In Vancouver's mild climate it thrives in a raised bed at Van Dusen Garden. (And check out the flourishing Bay Laurel behind it! Oh, envy...) October, 2014. Image: HFN

Phlomis fruticosa – Jerusalem Sage – a true Mediterranean plant, shrubby and silver-leaved. In Vancouver’s mild climate it thrives in a raised bed at Van Dusen Garden. (And check out the flourishing Bay Laurel behind it! Oh, grounds for some serious plant envy right here in this small image…) October, 2014. Image: HFN

So I turned my attention to the only other readily available species on the seed lists I had access to, the pink-flowered Phlomis tuberosa. A few seeds sprouted, and quickly grew into sturdy young plants, with dark green, elongated-heart-shaped foliage. Planted out, these survived their first winter with vigour, re-sprouting in spring in much more substantial clumps than I had anticipated. By year three, obviously happy in their Cariboo home, long bloom stalks appeared in late May, with whorls of intriguing buds, each sporting a pair of elongated leaves at the base. The buds eventually popped open into the most fascinating small, mauve pink, delicately fringed dragon’s head flowers. Not as spectacular as the much larger blooms of my yearned-for Phlomis fruticosa, but charming nonetheless.

Phlomis tuberosa has now been in my garden for almost two decades. It keeps getting moved around, and I’ve lost track of the many places I’ve rather heartlessly plunked it down in during our endless plant shuffles, for I found out early on that it was an agreeable sort of creature, easy to transplant and happy almost anywhere.

Phlomis tuberosa is a slender sort of plant. It will reach 3 or 4 feet tall in bloom stage, with numerous wiry, angular-sided stems arising from a tidy basal rosette perhaps a foot or so in diameter. Foliage is excellent and looks good spring to fall, being glossy, dark green, and roughly heart-shaped.

Whorls – technically “verticillasters” – of tiny, tubular, deliciously fringed pale purple-pink flowers in tiers on the slender but sturdy red-blushed stems appear in late spring. Each “ring” of blooms in the cluster opens at the same time, and the quiet show goes on through June and often into July, after which the developing seed heads may either be clipped off or left for garden interest.

Phlomis tuberosa has never needed staking, despite its height. The roots are quite fascinating, as you will find if you have reason to transplant a mature plant. Hanging from the ropy root clusters are many perfectly round tubers, like tiny potatoes. These are apparently quite edible – though please don’t experiment only on my say-so! – and were used as food by indigenous peoples in the plant’s native ranges.

Those storage roots may also explain Phlomis tuberosa’s wonderful adaptability. Established plants can take severe drought, and hold their own well among encroaching grasses, which has led to its use as a flowering accent in the famous “prairie borders” of such influential landscape designers as Holland’s Piet Oudolf. A potentially useful xeriscape plant for the Cariboo.

Though you may see Phlomis tuberosa rated at a conservative Zone 6 or so in much literature, rest assured that it is a lot hardier than that, and, if planted in the spring and given a growing season to get its roots down, can handle Zone 2 conditions without any trouble whatsoever.

This is not a particularly showy plant, but it is happily interesting, and I hope to continue growing it for many years to come. I’ve just pulled my own much-abused plants out of a border where they were being overshadowed by a massive Joe-Pye Weed, and have plunked them in the nursery rows in the garden to await a new placement come spring. I’m not quite sure where they will end up this time around, but I do know that they are “keepers”.

Bees and butterflies love Phlomis tuberosa, too. It may be grown in sun to light shade, and can handle any sort of soil. Good with sedums and ornamental grasses.

You may see Phlomis tuberosa listed with a cultivar name. A commonly seen tag is ‘Bronze Flamingo’, though as far as I have been able to discover this is merely a plant trade invention to up the appeal of the rather ho-hum species name. If visiting specialty plant nurseries on the coast, you may come across a cultivar named ‘Amazone’, which is reported to be an improvement of the species type, being larger in all of its parts and much taller, apparently to 7 feet.

 

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Lychnis chalcedonica - Scarlet Maltese Cross - Prince George, B.C. - July 2013. Image: HFN

Lychnis chalcedonica – Scarlet Maltese Cross – Prince George, B.C. – July 2013. Image: HFN

Perennial. Zone 1. Caryophyllaceae. Russia, Northern Asia. A.k.a., according to the Royal Horticultural Society, an astounding number of common names, among them: Cross of Jerusalem, Fireball, Flower of Bristow, Flower of Constantinople, Gardener’s Delight, Great Candlestick, Knight’s Cross, London Pride, None-Such, Red Robin, Scarlet Lightning,Tears of Christ.

If I think back to the gardens of my childhood, during the late 1960s and early 1970s, Maltese Cross is ever-present. My mother grew it and viewed it with great fondness, as did all of her gardening friends. It flourished in its scarlet glory in remote ranch gardens on the Chilcotin plateau as enthusiastically as it did in the town gardens we frequently visited in Williams Lake and 100 Mile House.

I sometimes muse on what a recreated Cariboo heritage garden would contain. Always a lilac bush, of course, and a massive clump of rhubarb. Red currants drooping with their luminescent clusters, promises of sweet jelly and mouth-puckering cordial to come. Raspberries, in generous wire-supported rows. Golden Glow lolling brightly by the fence, tied back with a length of sisal baler twine. In spring, a profusion of grape hyacinths, Johnny-Jump-Ups, striped ‘Pickwick’ crocuses, under a pinker-than-pink Flowering Almond bush. Red and yellow tulips. ‘Persian Yellow’ roses, blooming for a brief but wonderful time in June. Red-and-black oriental poppies, royal purple Cluster Bellflower, those ubiquitous purple and white bearded iris smelling strongly of grape Kool-Aid to my childish nose, identified in later years as the venerable variety ‘Wabash’. Double-flowered Achillea ptarmica – I can’t remember a common  name, though it must have had one. Did Mom call this one ‘Baby’s Breath’? I think she might have, though she had “real” baby’s breath, too – Gypsophila paniculata. Lanky delphiniums in shades of the sky. A colony of tall, pale purple phlox, alongside a fragrant yellow daylily. Columbines everywhere. Canterbury Bells and Sweet Williams. Orange tiger lilies in late summer. Cerise Rose Campion in the most unexpected places, and, inevitably, a sturdy clump of quite ridiculously red Maltese Cross.

My goodness. I should stop right there, before a tear comes to my eye. Our gardens are indeed full of memories…

Lychnis chalcedonica in a contemporary garden setting, in te perennial border at the University of Northern British Columbia in Prince George, July 2013. Image: UFN

Lychnis chalcedonica in a contemporary garden setting, perfectly combined with tall ornamental grasses in the perennial border at the University of Northern British Columbia in Prince George, July 2013. Image: UFN

 

So – here are the basics regarding Lychnis chalcedonica.  It forms strong clumps to 2 feet or taller. The sturdy stems topped by domed heads of brilliant scarlet, cross-like (though 5-petalled) flowers for a reasonably long period in mid-summer, 3 to 4 weeks. It reliably reblooms if cut back.

Maltese Cross prefers full sun, good soil, and average amounts of moisture. Mature clumps may be carefully divided, but so easy from seed that I never bother with division. Not at all invasive; well behaved in all its habits. You may wish to unobtrusively stake it, as it can occasionally birdsnest with summer thundershowers. But it is a truly sturdy thing, and requires minimal fussing.

Garden legend has it that this was one of those plants brought back to England from the Holy Land by returning Crusaders, but this is apparently not the case. More likely it came via regular trade routes from European travellers; the species originated in Russian and northern Chinese forests and steppes, and still can be found growing in the wild. Its first mention in garden literature predates the 1590s.

Can you see the cross-shaped form that leads to the common name? The fact that the blooms actually have five lobes versus four is a bit of a surprise - the effect is definitely geometric and cross-like. Image: HFN

Can you see the flower form that leads to the common name? The fact that the blooms actually have five fused petals versus four is a bit of a surprise – the overall effect is definitely geometric and cross-like. Image: HFN

Siting Maltese Cross in the contemporary garden can prove something of a dilemma, mostly for those who worry about colour harmony and contrasts. Here are some wise words from Cape Breton garden writer Jo Ann Gardner, in her 1992 book, The Heirloom Garden:

I have found folk gardeners to be less intimidated by Jerusalem-cross’s brilliant colour than are contemporary gardeners, who are often afraid of offending sensibilities by planting it near the varicoloured flowers of early summer and mid-summer. But it blends surprisingly well with soft pink Musk Mallow (Malva moschata), Lupines of all sorts, Siberian Iris, Bellflower, Foxglove, the lilac-white plumes of Clary Sage, and the yellow daisy-flowered Golden-Marguerite. One is often advised to banish Jerusalem-cross to the to the safety of low-growing evergreens, where its glowing colour will be reduced or neutralized. Consider that Gertrude Jekyll, the mistress of colour in the garden, grouped it among orange Daylilies, Dahlias, Marigolds and Nasturtiums…

There are a number of variations of Lychnis chalcedonica which you may find interesting. Last heard of in the 1920s and possibly lost forever – though one can hope they exist in some isolated cottage garden, waiting for their rediscovery – are double scarlet (first written about in 1629) and double white (1772) forms, but we do have some pretty singles to console ourselves with. A blushing pink – ‘Morgenrote’ a.k.a. ‘Morning Red’, sometimes sold as ‘Dusky Salmon’ – and a pristine white – ‘Raureif’ a.k.a. ‘Hoarfrost’, sometimes sold as ‘Snowbird’ – are still in the seed trade, and just a year or so ago I saw mention of a more compact scarlet variety, ‘Burning Love’, reported to be a compact 12 to 18 inches tall – perhaps easier to tuck into a small suburban planting?

Lychnis chalcedonica 'rosea' - 'Morgenrote', a.k.a. 'Morning Red', a.k.a. 'Dusky Salmon'. Image HFN

Lychnis chalcedonica ‘rosea’ – ‘Morgenrote’, a.k.a. ‘Morning Red’, a.k.a. ‘Dusky Salmon’. Heads of pale, rosy-salmon-pink blooms change colour as they age to give a variegated effect to the bloom clusters.  Williams Lake, B.C. – July 2014. Image HFN

 

 

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Geum triflorum - Prairie Smoke, Nodding Avens - Alice Wolyzuk Botanical Garden, University of Northern British Columbia, Prince George, B.C. May 2014. Image: HFN

Geum triflorum – Prairie Smoke, Nodding Avens – Alice Wolczuk Alpine Garden, University of Northern British Columbia, Prince George, B.C., May 2014. Image: HFN

Perennial.  Zone 1. Rosaceae. A.k.a. PURPLE AVENS, THREE-FLOWERED AVENS, OLD MAN’S WHISKERS. Native to a large area of North America, from British Columbia through the prairie provinces, as far south as California, and eastward across the northern United States. Geum comes from the Latin name gaeum, “a plant with aromatic roots” which is derived from the Greek geno, “to yield an agreeable fragrance”. Triflorum = three-flowered, from the habit of the blooms to appear in clusters of three.

One of my favourite spring wildflowers, this pretty plant flourishes from the dry hillsides of the Cariboo to the prairie grasslands east of the Rockies. It happily adapts to the garden, and I always enjoy meeting it unexpectedly, flourishing in alpine and botanical gardens in its quiet way, as content to be treated with care in a plant collection as it is on the rocky slopes of the higher points of Hill Farm.

According to Plants of Northern British Columbia (1992: MacKinnon, Pojar, Coupé), Geum triflorum was used by the Thompson and Okanagan First Nations people to make a root tea for treating colds, flu and fever. The Blackfoot in Alberta were reported to use the crushed seed as a perfume.

Geum triflorum - flower details. Macalister, B.C., May 2010. Image: HFN

Geum triflorum – flower details. Macalister, B.C., May 2010. Image: HFN

Tidy clumps send up multiple 6 to 12 inch tall stems topped by triplets of dusky pink, nodding, bell shaped blooms. These never properly open, but are sought out regardless be tenacious early-foraging wild bees, which force their way into the downfacing bells. The insects’ great pollinating success is evident by the profuse seed heads which develop a little later.

These seed heads are Geum triflorum’s main attraction, and its showiest feature in June and July. Large, feathery, often spiralled, and very long lasting, they are prettily blushed with pink, which makes a delicate contrast to the soft green of the developing seeds at the centre of each cluster.

After pollination, the feathery seed heads start to expand. Prince George, May 2014. Image: HFN

After pollination, the feathery seed heads start to expand. Prince George, May 2014. Image: HFN

Foliage is softly downy, a gently sage green, and rather ferny in effect. It forms basal clusters, and stays attractive all season, eventually blushing rich red in autumn.

Nodding Avens has a rhizomatous root system, and gently spreads to form a generous colony where happy, but is never invasive or ill-behaved. Very nice for spring and early summer interest in the rockery or at the border front. Very good on slopes.

Best in sun but will tolerate light shade. Very adaptable to all sorts of soil. Very drought tolerant, but appreciates some extra moisture at the peak of summer.

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Perennial Sweet Pea - Lathyrus latifolius - naturalized at Pitt Lake, near Maple Ridge, B.C., August 2011.

Perennial Sweet Pea – Lathyrus latifolius – naturalized along the shores of  Pitt Lake, near Maple Ridge, B.C., August 2011. Image: HFN

Perennial Herbaceous Vine. Zone 3. Fabaceae, formerly Leguminosae.  Originally native to Southern Europe, now sometimes seen naturalized in disturbed-soil areas as a garden escapee throughout Europe, Great Britain, and parts of North America, including coastal British Columbia. Lathyrus is from the Greek lathyros, pea; latifolius from the Latin latus + folium, wide + leaf.

Clump former to 18 inches wide; sprawls or climbs 3 to 6 feet tall by twining tendrils in the leaf axils. Fine in average soil and moisture; prefers full sun. Established plants are reasonably drought tolerant, but thrives best with summer moisture and fertile soil.

This pretty climber/sprawler is rather rare in Cariboo-Chilcotin gardens, but I have seen it thriving often enough here and there in Zone 3 and 4 Williams Lake and Quesnel area plantings to be able to confidently recommend its hardiness and adaptability.

The plant forms a vigorous clump of rapidly elongating stems lined with paired, blue-green leaflets. Bloom stalks and twining tendrils emerge from the leaf axils as the stems lengthen. Clusters of very showy, sweet pea-like flowers bloom for a long period June through August, and are followed by typical large, flat pea-pods filled with big round seeds. (These are not considered edible, by the way, and occasionally are referenced as “poisonous”, though I have not seen any mention of actual incidents of poisoning.)

Sadly, the “sweet” reference is merely to its similar appearance to the highly fragrant annual sweet pea, Lathyrus odoratus, as Perennial Sweet Pea is not noticeably fragrant.

Vines reach 3 to 6 feet long – tallest where it can climb, and where grown in moist, fertile soil – and either sprawl along the ground or twine their way up whatever support they can find. Very nice grown on a bank where it can cascade, or on a sturdy trellis or garden obelisk arrangement. Vines are completely herbaceous, and die back to the ground in the winter, to re-sprout in spring. Sometimes late to emerge, so keep an eye out for it when digging about in the spring garden.

A very long-lived plant, which should be sited where it can remain as it does not transplant well. It may self sow, but though definitely a “survivor” where established, it is not aggressive and is not considered an invasive plant in our climate, though it is occasionally seen as a naturalized garden escapee in disturbed soil areas along coastal British Columbian roadsides where it has joined other exotics such as butterfly bush (Buddleja sp.), touch-me-not (Impatiens sp.), and the ubiquitous Himalayan Blackberries.

Lathyrus latifolius naturalized along the shoreline roadway at Pitt Lake, near Maple Ridge, B.C. August, 2011.

Lathyrus latifolius naturalized along the shoreline roadway at Pitt Lake, near Maple Ridge, B.C. August, 2011. Image: HFN

Lathyrus latifolius has been grown as a prized garden flower for centuries throughout Europe and the British Isles, and in North American colonial plantings, and the pink strain appears in the 1801 species inventory of Thomas Jefferson’s famed Monticello garden.

This plant often shows up on old herb garden lists, but no medicinal uses are recorded. Apparently the foliage was occasionally used as a pot herb, and the seeds cooked and consumed for their high protein content, but present-day consumption is definitely NOT recommended, as the seeds of some of the species in the Lathyrus genus do contain potentially harmful amino aids. Best to enjoy it for its beauty alone, as most of our gardening predecessors did.

Many species of bees and butterflies visit the flowers in search of nectar, as do occasional questing hummingbirds, but the floral structure is designed for pollination by bumblebees, as they alone are strong enough to part the keel petals which enclose the reproductive parts of the blooms.

Three old-fashioned named strains are still available; all are very lovely. ‘RED PEARL’  – rich carmine pink. ‘ROSE PEARL’ aka ‘PINK BEAUTY’ – pale pink flushed darker at petal edges. ‘WHITE PEARL’ – pristine snow white.

Lathyrus latifolius - Perennial Sweet Pea - 'Red Pearl'

Lathyrus latifolius – typical of  ‘Red Pearl’ colour strain – Maple Ridge, August 2011. Image: HFN

 

 

 

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Perennial. Zone 2. Lamiaceae. Native to Great Britain, Europe, West Asia, North Africa.

Deep green, pebbly-textured, rather pungently aromatic foliage is arranged in basal rosettes. The plant sends up numerous multi-branching stems to 2 ft. or so, which produce hundreds of large “dragon’s head” flowers from late spring into summer. These are a bright violet blue in the original species, and shades of indigo-violet, mauve-pink and white in a number of named cultivars.

Meadow Clary is very showy during its bloom phase; the spent flowers drop neatly off and new buds at the top of the bloom spikes open in succession for many weeks. These flowers are alive with bees and butterflies on sunny summer days, and are frequently visited by hummingbirds. Meadow Clary is also reported to be a deer resistant plant, which may be of interest if you are one of the many Cariboo gardeners besieged by our increasingly bold garden-invading deer population.

Historically, Meadow Clary was used by brewers as a substitute for true Clary Sage, Salvia sclarea, as a flavouring in beer making. Though there are a few mentions made in literature of its medicinal use, generally in cough mixtures and so on, Salvia pratensis is not considered a medicinal herb. Its centuries-old inclusion in gardens must therefore be assumed to be purely for the pleasure of its blooms, and quite possibly for its attractiveness to bees.

There are a number of modern named cultivars of Meadow Clary. ‘INDIGO’, a deep rich purple-blue, has received the coveted Royal Horticultural Society’s Award of Garden Merit. The ‘Meadow Ballet’ series is an excellent group, and includes ‘SWAN LAKE’ (pure white), ‘ROSE RHAPSODY’ (soft mauve-pink), ‘SWEET ESMERALDA’ (warm rich reddish violet), and ‘TWILIGHT SERENADE’ (soft violet blue). ‘MADELINE’ is a bi-coloured violet and white, and ‘MIDSUMMER’ is a pale violet-blue. There are numerous other pratensis cultivars available, especially in Germany, where the “meadow garden” incorporating ornamental grasses and grassland flowers is something of an art form. Some exciting new inter-specific crosses are being introduced which I will be watching for, such as a pratensis x sylvestris ‘ROYAL CRIMSON DISTINCTION’, a rich red-violet.

The original “unimproved” wild variety is also a very lovely thing!

Though the wild plants are reportedly very rare now in much of the former native range, Salvia pratensis and its cultivars are highly valued in ornamental gardens. I have grown this species and its cultivars for many years, and have found it easy, reliable and very lovely; it blooms with the earliest rugosa roses, and the rich violet blues, soft mauves and pure whites of the Meadow Clary set off the roses beautifully. Meadow Clary is also an excellent cutflower. Sun to very light shade; average soil & moisture. Drought tolerant once established. Mature plants are hardy and long lived, and self-sown seedlings are easy to either relocate to a desired location, or to weed out.

The plants will self-sow, but as the seeds take some time to fully ripen and drop, clipping off the bloom stalk when the last blossoms fall will prevent its seeding, if this is a concern. To purposely save seed for re-sowing, it is best to examine the maturing bloom stalks fairly frequently, and clip or pinch off the individual florets as the seeds, four small nutlets in a tight cluster, turn from tan to black. These should be further dried (I use paper lunch bags to allow for good air circulation) before storing away. Salvia pratensis germinates readily at warm temperatures, and the large seeds pressed gently into the surface of a flat of starter mix (light is beneficial to germination of all Salvias) should show sprouts within a few days.

Note: Though Meadow Clary has been grown worldwide in gardens for centuries as an ornamental, with the recent hyper-awareness regarding non-native (“exotic”) invasive species, there is some concern in parts of the United States that this species might naturalize and become a noxious weed in rangeland areas. It is therefore suggested that gardeners be aware of the self-seeding tendencies of their plants, and  prevent spread of Salvia pratensis (and, indeed, any ornamental plants) beyond the garden area. Clipping the bloom stalks after flowering is the best way to ensure this, though modest self-seeding within the perimeters of the garden is often encouraged by gardeners. I include this note not because I have found this species to be a problem in my garden, or in any others that I am aware off, but merely in the interests of “responsible gardening” at large.

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