Martha Stewart's Skylands

If you’re a southerner, there’s no better place to be in July than in Maine. And, if you’re standing in a magical moss-filled forest with a castle of a house nearby a few hundred feet off the coast it’s even better.

That’s where I found myself about a month ago at Skylands, the summer home of Martha Stewart. My family and I had just pulled in to meet my friend Pat Cullina; Martha’s Skylands assistant Emilee; and Martha’s head gardener Mike Harding. Pat told me how amazing the horticulture and house were at Skylands and suggested that while I was speaking for the Beatrix Farrand Society in Maine I should see if I could visit. Of course I could have never dreamed just how wonderful this place could be.

If you’re unfamiliar with Skylands, the house was built by Ford Motor Company president Edsel Ford and his wife Eleanor. They had architect Duncan Candler design the 12-room house, and Mike told us that it just celebrated its 100th anniversary.

The forest floor was carpeted with moss.

We started by walking a quiet path through the woods to a small lost pool. Mike shared that Jens Jensen had designed the landscape around the house and had installed two lost pools, this being one of them. Mike talked about getting it ready to fill before Martha’s arrival in August.

A lost pool that Jens Jensen designed just waiting to be filled

As we walked further, Mike discussed the work that goes into keeping the moss in good shape by clearing the leaves, the efforts to keep the roads clean, and how the gravel has to be freshened every year because of the snow loads and plowing. We walked over to check out a new pool being built on the footprint of an old house. With the view in the distance, it’s going to be spectacular once complete. And, along the path we admired beautiful Kalmia latifolia (mountain laurel) that graced us with their blooms and the fallen art of petals underneath.

Kalmia latifolia (mountain laurel) in full bloom

I just love the fallen art these Kalmia latifolia create, and the thin rill is a nice touch.

A few mountain laurel flowers caught on fern fronds.

The view of Seal Harbor from an open spot at Skylands

We then walked down to the carriage house to see the cut flower garden. Raspberries grew near the building, and nearby was a greenhouse and an incredible stone outdoor lobster cooker. Mike paused just outside the cut flower garden to show us the moss he had collected. He uses pieces of nature he finds on the property to arrange ornate displays for the house whenever visitors come by.

My first outdoor lobster cooker I’ve seen. I don’t think I’ll ever see a better one!

The raspberry trellis near the stables was a clever idea for growing fruit for easy access.

Mike’s collection of moss and lichen for indoor creations

Mike opened the gate, and we found the cut flower garden in full production, with glorious Delphinium (delphinium), Zinnia (zinnia), Digitalis (foxglove), Dianthus (pinks), and other flowers coming into bloom. I also noted the beautiful trellising of cucumbers on the side of the house. He briefly took us into the stables, where horses were once kept, along with some of Martha’s carriages and other collections—all protected under white-draped sheets.

A collection of flowers just outside the cut flower garden

I loved the color echo between the Borago officinalis (borage) and Papaver (poppy).

Delphinium and Digitalis were in full bloom in the cut flower garden.

A row of Dianthus (pinks) with lilies in bud behind.

I loved seeing this neat and ordered cut flower patch with Rudbeckia (black-eyed susan) and Zinnia (zinnia) just coming into bloom.

Cucumbers find their way upward on this rustic wooden trellis.

From there, we made our way toward the house along a path freshly covered in pine needles. Along the way, we noticed a miniature grove of Amanita mushrooms. Mike paused to show us the playhouse, complete with a pool table, squash court, and more. From there, we walked up toward the main house and saw the guest house and surrounding grounds. A little trail of lights led to the guest house, which must look wonderful at dusk.

Mike Harding pauses to inspect the fresh layer of clean pine needles being put on a path.

A little forest of warm-colored and potentially toxic Amanita mushrooms grow out of moss

Near the house, ferns and other wildflowers grow in abundance.

Mike and Pat both were commenting that the stonework at Skylands is some of the best you’ll see in Maine.

A view from the backside of Skylands where the house is just coming into view.

What a quaint path with little lights to guide walkers in the dark to the guest house.

Mike then showed us through a deer gate to a set of stairs that let us onto a lower platform where Rodgersia (rodgersia) and ferns lined the edges. He commented that deer had figured out how to climb the stairs! So the gate was a necessity.

Climbing the stairs with Rodgersia (rodgersia) and fern foliage provides perspective of the lower path below

We emerged onto a platform with plentiful foliage plants like Hosta (plantain lily), Actaea (baneberry), Rodgersia, and ferns. In the center was the beautiful statue La Riviere by Aristide Maillol, and the nearby Vaccinium (blueberries) shrubs echoed the statue’s color with their pewter blue foliage. It was here that I really started getting a sense of the color palette around the house at Skylands—a myriad of greens with blue, purple, maroons, grays, and pops of yellow mixed in.

La Riviere by Aristide Maillol rests amongst a host of colorful interesting foliage plants

Looking down on the beautiful foliage.

Mike then led us down a stone path where a collection of various conifers were planted. Mike explained how they’ve worked to balance the perfect amount of blue and green foliage in the planting. With the stonework and the ground layer vegetation, this garden looked like it had been plucked out of the Maine woods and plopped down right next to the house.

The conifer garden just off the terrace provides good texture.

From here, Mike took us to the front of the house at Skylands. He pointed out an area that had been planted with moss that was collected in the forest nearby. It had this interesting tapestry appearance as it began to grow and weave together.

Mike commented on how he planted this moss to help cover a bare spot.

At the front of the house was a circular drive where a variety of shrubs were planted. What struck me most about Skylands was how nature comes right up to the house. I mentioned this to Mike, and he said that’s exactly what they want visitors to feel—that there’s no disconnect between the house and nature.

Kalmia, Cotinus (smoke bush), and other plants add character to the rock cliffs near the welcome circular drive planting of the appropriately named Picea orientalis ‘Skylands’ and Dennstaedtia punctilobula (hay-scented fern).

I admired how nature came right up to the house at Skylands.

Verdant foliage on the west terrace gave a tropical feel to the Maine woods.

Mike then took us through the west terrace where tropicals in containers made us feel we were somewhere more tropical than the rugged coast of Maine. We then walked onto the back patio of Skylands where the color palette of a strong blend of neutrals using a myriad of greens with blues, grays, purples, and splashes of yellow added in here and there continued.

The back terrace was gorgeous. There was the perfect amount of plantings while also having plenty of space to entertain. Pat commented how Martha also really liked to collect concrete planters.

Another glimpse showing the plantings around the house and the intricacy of the windows.

The back planters had reached their summer crescendo and filled in nicely.

Mike then walked us behind the house to show us another one of Jens Jensen’s lost pools. It was here that I found myself once again admiring how nature had been allowed to creep right up to the house. From there, we said our goodbyes and thanked Mike for his time.

After I returned home, I would read what journalist Karl Schriftgiesser wrote about Skylands in 1926. “The purpose was not to make a prepossessing place . . . belittling its neighbors in its grandeur. … The purpose was to blend the house with the hill, to make the two as much the part of each other as it is possible to combine a man-made affair with nature.” I thought that quote nicely summed up my experience to Skylands, and I’m so happy to see that Martha and her team continue that tradition to this day.

If we could all take that inspiration to make our homes and gardens appear like “a man-made affair with nature,” wouldn’t the world be a much better place?

One final view back at Skylands. Don’t you love how it feels like nature embraces the house?

Inspiration and Lessons from Skylands

Skylands is a big place. But, there’s still some inspiration we can apply at home. Here are a few ideas I took away from Skylands.

1. Let nature come up to your house. It’s okay to have trees, shrubs, wildflowers, and grasses close by. It doesn’t all need to be perfectly formal with meatballed shrubs. A bit of wildness adds beauty.

2. Look to nature for design inspiration. Whether it’s sticks, grasses, moss, or pinecones, you can bring the outdoors in. I’m already thinking of what can I use nearby to make arrangements more engaging in our home.

3. Always have something blooming in the cut-flower garden. I was inspired to grow more cut flowers after seeing Martha’s cut flower garden. It takes planning to make sure that something is always in bloom.

4. Enhance the nature around you. At Skylands, they clear leaves and pine needles to encourage moss. I’ve done something similar at home by making sure our moss patch out back isn’t smothered by autumn leaves. What can you do to the natural areas around you or in your yard that will help enhance an already beautiful nature? Maybe it’s ripping out invasives, sowing more wildflower seed, or clearing views?

5. Be generous. I never imagined I’d visit Martha Stewart’s summer home, but because of her and her staff’s generosity, I was able to. It reminds me that in our own gardens, we can share plants, share knowledge, and help each other grow. So, thank you, Martha, Mike, and all those who tend this magical place.

The Good, Bad, and Ugly of Summer

This summer hasn’t been too bad weather-wise here at Ephemera Farm.  I actually had to look at our weather station to see how many days we’ve broken 100°F.  Even this morning was 68°F.  

Normally, there comes a point where the spigot from the sky turns off, but this year that hasn’t happened.  We’ve had a regular amount of rain, minus a dry spell here and there. We have no drought, but there’s been an outbreak of fungal issues and weeds.  

Good years are just as helpful to evaluate the garden and see what thrives as bad years.  What can stand up with abundant rain and wet soil?  What flops?  What has clean foliage?  And, what looks like trash? I’ve learned every summer there inevitably will be the good, the bad, and the ugly. Some year, the categories plants fall into changes. Other years, it’s pretty consistent being good, bad, or ugly after July and August.

There are some plants I’ve learned go dormant regardless of the moisture level.  Early on as I was learning what would grow well in Texas, I assumed that plants prematurely halted growth with the summer dryness, but seeing decline followed by dormancy in wet years has changed my thinking.  

Take Baptisia for example.  Every year no matter how much rain we get, Baptisia alba (white wild indigo), Baptisia sphaerocarpa (yellow wild indigo), and Baptisia australis var. minor (dwarf wild indigo) usually go dormant in early August.  Phlox ‘Minnie Pearl’ (phlox), Stokesia laevis ‘Peachie’s Pick’ (Stokes’s aster), and Clematis reticulata (netleaf leather flower, header image) show a similar pattern. 

Baptisia alba

Stokesia laevis ‘Peachie’s Pick’

Phlox ‘Minnie Pearl’

While I know Piet Oudolf says brown is a color, too, this early in the season to have blacks and browns amongst so much green isn’t welcome.  We still have 90 days until frost and our show of asters, sunflowers, and salvia to come.  So, where the necrosis detracts, I prune it out to freshen the garden.  

Some plants fade okay like Monarda stipitatoglandulosa (Ouachita bee balm) and Eryngium yuccifolium (rattlesnake master).  For the former, the brown seed heads are supported on mostly still green plants, and for the latter, there is still a good amount of green in the leaves and inflorescences.  

Monarda stipitatoglandulosa

And, then others like Symphyotrichum oblongifolium ‘Raydon’s Favorite’ (aromatic aster) look rough in these wet years.  The tips are green, but there’s a good amount of foliar dieback inside the plant.  I’m considering applying an organic fungicide next year to see if that would help.  

I have also focused on planting the good—more visually appealing plants at this time of the year to fill the gap.  We have height from the verdent seed capsules of Lilium formosanum (Formosan lily) that finished blooming just a few weeks ago, and the rains have spurred on a second flush of Hymenocallis occidentalis var. eulae (summer spider lily) blooms.  

Hymenocallis occidentalis var. eulae

Silphium perfoliatum (cup plant), Physostegia virginiana (obedient plant), and Boltonia diffusa (doll’s daisy) all look stellar with no issues with foliage.  Silphium has bloomed all summer, Physostegia got started flowering in mid-July and still goes, and Boltonia foliage haze is just starting to show some of its darling flowers.  

Boltonia diffusa

But, there are still gaps. The spring is so verdent with good ground coverage.  I keep thinking that I’ve done a good job closing the gap, but then August comes and I’m wondering why is everything bare under this Baptisia?

Part of the gap could be I’m losing plants.  My dense clumps of Pycnanthemum tenuifolium (narrow-leaf mountain mint) have slowly been disappearing, and I’ve lost two Stokesia.  My suspicion is voles, which is odd for them to go after mints.  But, I also ponder if I have a root fungal disease that is becoming problematic.  I go to pull on the Stokesia, roots are still in the ground, but it looks like they’ve just rotted.

If you have any ideas of the cause, please pass them along.  For now, I’m planning on what to plant in these spots when cooler weather arrives. It won’t be long now.

Inspiration from Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens

One of the highlights of summer was spending a few days in Maine away from the sweltering heat of the southeast. If you go to Maine, you have to go visit Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens. Many horticulturists will tell you this garden is one of their favorites on the east coast and it doesn’t take long to see why.

There are 300 acres located along the rugged coast of Maine, and 17 acres feature more developed gardens and plantings. It had been 13 years since I last visited, and much had changed since my visit. Karen, Magnolia, and my parents joined me, and it was fun to see the garden through their eyes, too. I took plenty of photos during our visit to share with you for inspiration. Enjoy this vicarious trip to see the garden!

LERNER GARDEN OF THE FIVE SENSES

We were fortunate to have Andy Brand, director of horticulture, show us around for a bit and provide more context for things we saw in the garden. For example, he told us that the entrance to the garden and parking lot was totally different than when I first visited in 2012!

The Lerner Garden of Five Senses is designed to provide experiences for the five senses. This pavilion offered opportunities with therapeutic horticulture. There was this wonderfully arranged ergonomic tool shelf inside.

I loved these vertical gardens made from lobster traps. They allow people of diverse learning styles to understand how to grow plants.

The area focused on sight featured beautiful layered plantings and interesting textures and colors.

A close up of some of the interesting colors and textures in the five senses garden.

Further in the garden, water heightened the experience in the area for hearing.

In the area for touch was this wonderful tactile labyrinth. Notice how the stones are larger on the outside, and as you approach the center, they become smaller. Andy said people take their shoes off and walk it to feel the stone size change.

CHILDREN’S GARDEN

The children’s garden at Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens is one of the best I’ve visited. The plantings are incredible, and there’s whimsy everywhere.

In the cottage garden, they made the fence fun by cutting out cat faces for the tops.

Another shot of the cat face fence. I just love the cottage garden feels.

I thought these little concrete pillars were cute in the children’s garden. The color echo with the Astilbe (false goat’s beard) and Hosta (hosta) flowers was a nice touch.

The maze lawn in the children’s garden allows for a usual patch of turf to have more whimsy.

Don’t you love the green roof on this shed in the children’s garden?

Scattered around the garden were these incredible wooden trolls. The chair gives a sense of how large Roskva is.

Lilja was another troll that we found in the woods. Free hugs from a ~15 foot tall wooden troll!

OTHER SIGHTS AROUND THE GARDEN

Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens has made an effort to engage with indigenous artists. The Native Guide Project: CMBG, an art installation by Anna Tsouhlarakis, from one angle featured raised grassy knolls…

…but on the other side you could see these were middens made of oyster shells and rocks with words carved in them. I loved this quote, “I love how you listen when the land speaks.”

Another indigenous artist installation called Eci-Mahsosiyil/Fiddleheads by Shane Perley-Dutcher featured these interpretations of fiddlehead ferns that appear rising from this naturalistic planting.

Another fun highlight was this native butterfly house. It was a hoophouse covered with netting that had native plants for butterflies and their larvae inside. This structure helped to highlight the plants we can use in our landscapes to provide resources for insects.

I was impressed by the hard work of the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens staff and volunteers. They were out in force when we visited. This gentleman was deadheading Cosmos (cosmos).

Another favorite sculpture was these rebar deer by Wendy Klemperer. Let’s be honest. This type of deer is the only kind we want in our gardens!

And, I loved this creative installation of words made and painted. My guess is they used silicone to write the text and then painted over them.

THE PLANTS AT COASTAL MAINE BOTANICAL GARDENS

And, we saw some wonderful plantings at Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens. Even before we got inside we found this lovely bed of lilies, what I believe to be Lychnis × arkwrightii 'Vesuvius' (catchfly), and Asclepias tuberosa ‘Mellow Yellow’ (butterfly milkweed).

This beautiful planting of Heuchera (coral bells), Astilbe, Baptisia (wild indigo), and more offered a variety of colors and textures.

Cornus kousa ‘Schmred’ HEART THROB (kousa dogwood) were just finishing their bloom and looked riveting with their pink bracts.

I always love seeing interesting cultivars of underused plants. ‘Silberstein’ is a speckled selection of Phytolacca americana or pokeweed!

I loved this sunny mass of Oenothera tetragona (northern sundrops).

The Delphinium (delphinium) were in full bloom during our visit. You won’t see these in Texas!

A smorgasbord of annuals provide great color near the arbor garden.

I really liked this blocked perennial planting of Monarda (bee balm), Penstemon (beardtongue), Allium (onion), and Pycnanthemum (mountain mint) near the great lawn.

The fragrance from Asclepias syriacus (common milkweed) was so good in Maine. We saw Monarchs dancing above the lawn nearby.

Near the children’s garden there was this thick patch of competitive species. It provided a great natural fence between the children’s garden and this gravel path.

THE PARKING LOT

One of my favorite parts of Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens was even before we entered the garden. The plantings in the parking were thickly planted in a naturalistic style.

Even though the plantings were wild, there was still an order and repetition to them, which helped convey legibility.

In this wilder area, patches of color from Asclepias tuberosa ‘Mellow Yellow’ and what I believe to be a silvery species of Pycnanthemum communicated purpose with the planting.

As people leave the garden, how can they not smile from seeing Asclepias tuberosa ‘Mellow Yellow’?

40 Lessons from 40 Years

I turn 40 this coming week, and life so far has been a fun ride. I thought the first 30 years were great, but the past 10 years have been marvelous. We got married, bought a house, and had a kid (let’s be honest, that’s been the best part!). My passion for plants has been recognized with features in The NY Times and Horticulture magazine, and I’ve been asked to give 70+ lectures around the country. And, I have a garden now that I can call my own. Sure, at times it’s a bit weedy or a bit hot and dry as it seems to be each year around my birthday, but it is such a joy to be able to walk outside and see ideas growing into existence.

I saw where thought leader Justin Welsh had shared for his birthday a list of lessons learned over the years. So, here’s 40 ideas that I’ve learned in my 40 years that I use on a regular basis in my planting practice.

1. Pulling soil off the top of the rootball and putting it in the bottom of the planting hole can help to reduce introducing weed seeds to new plantings.

2. On weeds, one year’s seeding means seven years weeding.

3. If your garden has coherence, complexity, legibility, and mystery, you’re off to a great start.

4. Beth Chatto told me about right plant, right place when I visited her in 2010. It was an eye opening way to think about how to plant.

5. Foliage (and sometimes seedheads) lasts longer than flowers.

6. Steven Pressfield’s Resistance finds us in the garden, too. It’s easier to see once it has a name.

7. Every plant has its moment. Learn what that moment is and ask how can you help it shine?

8. Check your biases against a plant (unless it is invasive as all get out). You may be overlooking some great ones.

9. The landscape tells a story. Listen and ask what can you do to tell it better?

10. It's okay to let go of plants that don't thrive.

11. “Stress is an asset.” — Thomas Rainer and Claudia West

12. Be the bison and introduce disturbance to your garden.

13. Maybe we should focus on making plants healthier to resist pests than kill them as messengers (From Eliot Coleman in The New Organic Grower).

14. Flame weeding is very helpful for keeping the kitchen garden clean. Safety first!

15. Keep growing. Even 1% better compounds.

16. Plant in communities and layers, not in isolation.

17. Having your own spot to trial plants before you use them on a larger scale is priceless.

18. Simplify.

19. It’s ok for things to get eaten. Remember you’re supporting biodiversity. Ok, except by deer. Motion sprinkler for the win.

20. Make edges. Where two habitats meet is where magic happens.

21. Automating watering is smart and even better if it is drip.

22. Have a way for capturing ideas and memories in the garden—a notepad, an app, photographs, and/or a recorder. Some of your best ideas come to you when weeding.

23. Visit gardens and make friends with people in other areas. You’ll be surprised what you learn.

24. Stress and disturbance have led plants to evolve three growth strategies—competitors, stress tolerators, and ruderals. Once you learn the traits, you can’t unsee these three strategies.

25. Mother Nature hates bare soil. Cover it yourself, or she’ll cover it for you.

26. Spinach survived 9°F under cover for me. Some cool-season crops are quite hardy and can survive winter cold with season extension.

27. Compost and leaf mold are two of the best free things on the planet.

28. With clean lines you can let things go a little wild.

29. Explore natural areas and look for lessons that you can bring home to your garden and your designs.

30. When all else fails, add more grasses and sedges.

31. Emulate nature.

32. “Brown is also a color.” — Piet Oudolf

33. Collect seed when you have the thought. Don’t say I’ll do that tomorrow. They’ll be gone.

34. Design with winter in mind first.

35. Plants have a natural way they arrange themselves. Try to visualize their arrangement in your head and ask if they look right?

36. Plant native when possible.

37. It’s your garden, and it’s ok to garden differently.

38. Maximize the seasonal interest.

39. If you roll hoses in a figure 8 shape, you can reduce kinks.

40. “Laughing brains are more absorbent.” — Alton Brown

What is Matrix Planting?

Want to Learn More?

I’m hosting a live webinar on matrix planting Monday August 4 at 6 pm CDT. In Matrix Planting Made Easy, you’ll learn how to create a resilient, beautiful, and low-maintenance planting from the ground up. We’ll cover species selection, layering, site prep, design strategies, and more!

I’ve realized recently that matrix planting can be confusing for many gardeners, and that’s a problem.

This method of planting allows for a simple approach for people to plant ecologically, but if there’s confusion putting it into practice or even from the name, that can lead to a doom loop of failure, messy outcomes, and weedy chaos. Over the years, I’ve heard many comments from gardeners who want to plant using this approach but struggle to make matrix planting look intentional instead of neglected.

So, let’s break matrix planting down.

What Is Matrix Planting?

Matrix planting (header image) is a style of arranging plants where a low-growing species covers the ground from which other plants emerge. This style mimics what is seen in many plant communities where plants have evolved to grow at different levels to maximize resource capture. But, in horticulture we simplify those naturally occurring layers for legibility.

Rhododendron cumberlandense (Cumberland azalea) amongst a matrix of grasses on Gregory Bald.

And, for something more herbaceous Baptisia australis var. minor (dwarf wild blue indigo) emerges from a matrix of green grasses

When done well, matrix planting

• suppresses weeds

• reduces or eliminates mulch

• creates relief for other plants to pop against

• provides seasonal interest

• and supports soil health and moisture retention.

The Sporobolus (prairie dropseed) meadow at Chanticleer is a thinking exercise in what is a matrix as its most defining layer with no other plants present.

At Stoneleigh, Eragrostis chloromelas ‘Wind Dancer’ (blue love grass) served as a matrix for emerging Baptisia (wild indigo), Echinacea pallida (pale coneflower), and Oenothera lindheimeri (white gaura).

At Oudolf Garden Detroit this matrix of Carex albicans (white-tinged sedge) provides a foil for other plants.

Carex texensis (Texas sedge) in the home garden serves as a good matrix species.

The Origins of Matrix Planting

I first learned of the concept of matrix planting from Planting: A New Perspective by Piet Oudolf and Noel Kingsbury. They shared that the matrix is a functional layer of usually one or a few plants and embedded in this ground cover layer are more showy plants. They gave the example that matrix planting is like a fruitcake. The matrix is the cake, and the showier plants are the fruit and nut pieces added in. They also commented on the confusion of the word and the practice, saying

“The concept of matrix planting is one which has been around for sometime, but like many terms and planting design. It has had the unfortunate history of being used by different people to mean different things — in part because of the misunderstanding over the meaning of the word. ‘Matrix’ is defined in the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language as ‘a surrounding substance within which something else originates, develops, or is contained, and it is with this in mind that we will use the term.”

— Planting: A New Perspective by Piet Oudolf and Noel Kingsbury

So, matrix plantings are a type of naturalistic planting because they try to mimic the essence of plant communities, BUT not all naturalistic planting designs are matrix plantings. Recently reading the introduction of Piet Oudolf At Work gave me an even deeper understanding on the origin of the name applied to this planting style. Cassian Schmidt shared in the early 2000’s how when this approach was new, they needed a name to describe planting high impact species that arose from a dominant ground cover layer. He wrote that inspiration came from geology. A rock like a conglomerate or porphyry—that is composed of multiple smaller different rocks—has a fine-grained, uniform material that surrounds and supports embedded rocks and is called the—you guessed it—matrix.

I realize this picture shows a sidewalk instead of a true conglomerate or porphyry, but you can see the idea of the matrix that holds and supports the pebbles. Notice how the matrix is pretty consistent in color and texture. You’ll never look at a pebbled sidewalk the same way again!

Just to clarify this section at Oudolf Field is not a matrix planting. The plants are arranged in clear blocks.

However, this section at Oudolf Field is a matrix planting. There are Echinacea, Dianthus, and more rising out of an undercurrent of Sporobolus heterolepis.

Other Tips for Matrix Success

Many naturalistic, native, or pollinator gardens are planted with the best of intentions. But, without a good ground cover layer, they can become messy and can result in failed projects after a few years. Just like the rock would fall apart if it weren’t for the matrix, the same is true for matrix plantings. They need the permanence of that ground cover layers as relying on too much mulch has to be replaced.

Here are a few tips to keep in mind.

1. Start Small. If this approach is new to you, start small. Install a matrix of short grasses or sedges along the front of a garden bed. Or, use them in an area where you usually use lots of mulch. Also, when you buy matrix plants, they may not be the showiest thing in the garden center. Sure, I love how Sporobolus heterolepis (prairie dropseed) or Carex texensis (Texas sedge) look in my garden, but that may be something you have to grow to appreciate over time.

2. Site Prep Is Everything. A good matrix can still fail if you don’t prep the site well. Try to reduce your weed load as much as possible prior to planting with shallow cultivation, smothering, or solarization.

3. Use Mulch Wisely. I advocate for using a thin layer of mulch in the first year especially with plugs. The goal is not to smother everything, but just to give your young plants a fighting chance while they knit together.

4. Choose Reliable Plants. Matrix planting usually relies on grasses or sedges. That’s because they are reliable ground covers that are long-lived, resilient, and tolerant of a wide range of conditions. Gardeners can also use other herbaceous plants, but in the southeast make sure they are species that persist, especially through heat, drought, and disturbance. Otherwise, you’ll have gaps. You may have to do what I did, and try a whole host of species for matrix plants in a trial spot to figure out what works for you.

5. Plugs vs Seed. I’m not a huge fan of broadcasting seed for the matrix for gardeners who are just learning this process. I’d rather you use small plugs to ensure better coverage and reduce surprises.

6. Install in Phases. Start small. Get a feel for what works well for you. I’ve heard Roy Diblik recommend installing the matrix first and then layering in your feature plants later once it is established.

7. Don’t Overdesign. Keep it simple. One of the biggest mistakes is trying to cram too many species into the ground cover layer. Let your matrix do its job and then build up from there.

Oudolf Garden Detroit

“Oh, no! I forgot my camera!” I said to Karen. She was sitting next to me on the airplane some 30,000 feet in the sky as we were headed to visit her sister in Michigan. Part of the trip was to visit the Oudolf Garden on Belle Isle, but with dad brain and an early departure, putting it in my backpack slipped my mind.

“Can you take pictures with your phone?” she asked, trying to soften the blow. “Yea, I guess,” I replied.

My camera has long been my trusty sidekick visiting gardens around the world. But, leaving it behind would force me to pause and actually appreciate the garden.

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We drove down on Friday, the first day of summer, to see Belle Isle with Karen’s sister’s family. Parts of the park at Belle Isle were originally designed by Frederick Law Olmsted in the late 1800’s, and after a letter from the Garden Club of Michigan, Piet Oudolf was asked to come in and put his signature on a three-acre spot some 150 years later.

We approached the garden from the east side, the side near the conservatory. It was here that we met up with my friend Lindsey Kerr, an extension agent with Michigan State University.

THE GARDEN BEDS

Upon entering the garden, the classic Oudolf style was immediately visible. Even though the garden is still young and will celebrate its 4th anniversary in August, the plantings had largely matured and filled in the space quite effectively. The long vistas provided a wonderful layered effect. From studying the designs in Piet Oudolf at Work and on the Oudolf Garden Detroit website (which I will add is one of the best public garden websites I’ve visited for identifying a garden’s plants based on plant list and interactive map), it became apparent that Piet used a simple approach in designing the space. There would be three primary planting schemes (A, B, and C) across the 15 beds, and each bed with the same letter would mostly repeat the plants. So, perhaps one could consider it to be a modular list of plants that then go into each bed.

Just inside Oudolf Garden Detroit the diversity in the beds becomes apparent.

A view of the beds looking toward the conservatory. From this perspective the turf walkways in between largely fade from view.

Repetition of plants and colors across the site helped to make the garden feel cohesive. Echinacea pallida ‘Hula Dancer’ (pale coneflower) danced across the garden, and in the distance more are visible.

One of the farthest perspectives of the garden from the conservatory.

From this angle looking toward the river you can see the pathways in between the beds where a bench allowed visitors to sit and appreciate the garden. Allium obliquum (twisted-leaf onion) provides a strong presence in this space.

RAIN GARDEN

Lindsey took me to the rain garden on the west end and showed the simple woodland grove that was planted to help filter rainwater off the road. I assumed this side to be the main entrance, and having this more verdant spot reminded me of the pond garden that one sees when entering Oudolf Field at Hauser and Wirth. Right behind the rain garden was the bird border where woody species were planted to help provide food and habitat for birds.

The rain garden looks quite verdant, and in mid-June it is more quiet than the other beds.

Carex bromoides (brome-like sedge) was used as the groundcover layer in this section of the rain garden with Viburnum nudum (possumhaw viburnum) flowering.

MATRIX PLANTING IN THE TRIANGLE BED

We made our way back across the site admiring the plants and combinations as the Red-wing Blackbirds sang their Conk-la-rees and took me back to my childhood days in Tennessee. At the far east edge where we first met up was a matrix planting in a triangle bed that we both admired. It was simple in concept and design and very effective.

The airy flowers of Gillenia trifoliata (bowman’s root) and bold leaves of Darmera peltata (umbrella plant) contrast well with the sedge groundcover.

Further into the bed irises rise out of a sea of Carex.

Lindsey and I parted ways as the rain showers started picking up. I was headed to meet up with Karen and crew, but I decided to huddle under a tree near the matrix planting as radar showed it to be quick to pass.

I noticed a volunteer mowing grass with an electric mower and asked if she knew what the Carex was that made up the matrix. She said no, but one of those green shirt people can help. They were back by the middle of the garden near the Nancy Brown Peace Carillon that towered over the site. They were leading a tour to what appeared to be one of two high school groups. I figured it wouldn’t take long to ask, but I got sucked into their story about the space.

Then, Richard Thomas who is the head horticulturist at Oudolf Garden Detroit walked up with his group. They asked the students what they had learned, and the students commented about the pollinators. Richard then started talking about the history of the site. I remembered that they had a big flood early in the development. He commented that if they had started just a few months earlier that all the plants would have likely been washed away. This flood forced them to move soil up and build up where the plants would be planted.

As I listened I realized that the group of about 20 students would be helping plant Sporobolus heterolepis plugs into the area around the carillon. This area will flood occasionally. They had goats clearing out the middle section around it, but these plants would go in a newly planted area outside. This lower riverside area had issues with invasive species, but their efforts to bring them under control had worked tremendously.

As Richard stepped aside, I caught him to say hi, introduce myself, and inquire about the sedges in the triangle bed. He told me that it was Carex bromoides (brome-like sedge) on the lower end and Carex albicans (white-tinged sedge) on the upper end.

The lower section with more Carex bromoides

The upper section with more Carex albicans

Overall, the sedges were in that post flowering stage where they tend to be more yellow in color.

Bold foliage from Heuchera villosa (hairy alumroot) and the vertical spires of Digitalis parviflora (small-flowered foxglove) contrasts well against the sedge groundcover.

SPOROBOLUS MATRIX

After I got home and started parsing through photos, I remembered that one of the patterns I noticed in the plantings was Sporobolus heterolepis (prairie dropseed) commonly used as the groundcover layer for mini-matrix plantings. It was used very heavily in the B beds, but in the A beds there would be little blocks of it. This grass would serve as the groundcover layer while other species rose out of it.

Allium christophii (star of Persia) and Echinacea foliage rises from the matrix of Sporobolus heterolepis (prairie dropseed).

In another section it was mostly Echinacea rising from the grass matrix.

I really liked this combination of the spears of Ornithogalum ponticum ‘Sochii’ (star of Bethlehem) piercing through the clumps of Sporobolus heterolepis, and it left me wondering how I could replicate this with Liatris or another species.

In this space Sporobolus heterolepis served as a groundcover near these Baptisia × ‘Lunar Eclipse’ (wild indigo). The contrast in textures really helps the Baptisia pop.

THE PLANTS OF OUDOLF GARDEN DETROIT

And, I wanted to share a few favorite plants that I enjoyed during my trip to Oudolf Garden Detroit.

This spot was one of my favorites from the visit. Sure the Asclepias tuberosa (orange milkweed) is lit, but the verticals of Dalea purpurea (purple prairie clover) and Veronica (veronica), the Allium orbs, and the rising perennial towers behind made this area so rich.

Another favorite pairing was this cool-colored section that featured Allium caeruleum (blue globe onion), Salvia sylvestris ‘Rhapsody in Blue’ (wood sage), Eryngium × zabelii ‘Big Blue’, and Geranium ‘Rozanne’ (geranium).

This combination of Achillea x ‘Moonshine’ (yarrow) and Allium christophii (star of Persia) was dynamite due to the contrasting colors and strong differences in textures.

Another pairing that I liked was Asclepias tuberosa (orange milkweed) with Stachys monieri ‘Hummelo’ (betony). But…

…Lindsey and I discussed how this Asclepias might have been a happy accident that seeded in.

Another combination that I liked was Achillea filipendulina ‘Parker’s Variety’ (yarrow) with Ornithogalum ponticum ‘Sochii’ (star of Bethlehem). The upright triangular shapes contrasted nicely with the horizontal corymbs.

This spot was quite beautiful with Echinacea pallida ‘Hula Dancer’, Asclepias purpurascens (purple milkweed), and Salvia yangii ‘Little Spire’ (Russian sage).

Here’s another spot where Asclepias purpurascens stood out. It is such an underused plant.

Blocks of Penstemon digitalis (foxglove beardtongue) punctuated the planting with their pearly white flowers.

I’m posting this photo to educate and mean it in no way to detract from the beauty and hard work of the gardeners. It seems they have the same frustration with Eragrostis spectabilis (purple lovegrass) that I do. A section of it had died out. For me I’ve learned that it’s a ruderal and just doesn’t last that long.

One last shot of the beautiful Echinacea pallida ‘Hula Dancer’.

Using Flower Shapes in Design

Figuring out which plants to use and how to combine them in naturalistic planting can be a struggle. There are so many options. How do we decide which ones to use?

One consideration is the flower architecture and the geometry of the bloom. We take flower shapes and their arrangements for granted. They are the result of thousands (if not millions) of years of co-evolution with pollinators and pollination mechanisms like wind. We call these pollination syndromes. With Pollinator Week upon us, I thought it would be worthwhile to consider how we use the shapes that resulted from this eons-long project in design.

Pat Cullina referenced flower shape when I had him on my podcast and asked about how he considered using plants in design. He said, “I subscribe to the flower’s structural components to be contrasting. Right, like, so the pea family flowers of Amorpha or Baptisia or Dalea or whatever it may be is distinct from the Allium group which is distinct from the petalous flowers which is distinct from the spikes which are distinct from the umbels. And, then you’re doing that sequentially over time.”

His comments made me wonder is there a simple approach that gardeners can use to make sense of flower forms?

KEEPING FLOWER FORM SIMPLE

I’m using the broad term “flower” to discuss the whole visual unit. I should clarify that some flowers are simple while others are compound and seen as many comprising an inflorescence. And, while we could use botanically correct terms like capitulum, corymb, panicle, or others, those terms don’t allow us to consider the visual aspects. And, they can isolate people who don’t have that language.

So, we can turn to basic geometric shapes like we learned in kindergarten to consider how flowers function in design.

I think also distilling it down to simple shapes makes it easier to understand. I’m considering this from the perspective of standing at a distance and thinking about seeing plants at eye level. So, across a planting what is the visual essence that a plant has. And, can we simplify that to make sure that a garden is visually stimulating.

FLOWER SHAPES

Here are some shapes that I consider using in planting design. Remember, anytime we try to simplify artifacts from nature, not everything will fit into the model, and some plants may exhibit combinations of the options below.

DOTS

I consider dots as flowers that are either small and unassuming or no matter which way you view them they appear circular like Monarda (bee balm) or even Aquilegia canadensis (eastern columbine).

Dots of Monarda bradburiana (eastern beebalm)

VERTICAL LINE

Lines are one of the easiest shapes to see. Some species have a simple line like Liatris (blazing star), or they may have lines on lines like with Veronicastrum (Culver’s root). And, lines can curve and twist due to weather or other environmental factors.

Vertical lines of Liatris pycnostachya (prairie blazing star)

HORIZONTAL LINE

Horizontal lines are flat platforms that pollinators can easily access as they walk across. So, think Pycnanthemum (mountain mints), Achillea (yarrow), Parthenium (wild quinine), and more for this category.

Horizontal lines of Pycnanthemum tenuifolium (narrow-leaf mountain mint)

CIRCLES

Circles are rounded flowers like those seen on Hibiscus (hibiscus) and Callirhoe (winecups). I differentiate these from dots because when viewed from different perspectives circles can appear flat.

Circles of Hibiscus ‘Lufkin Red’

ARCS

Some flowers appear as arcs where they are not a perfect circle, but have a rounded dome appearance like Eutrochium fistulosum (hollow Joe Pye weed) and Asclepias purpurascens (purple milkweed).

Arcs of Eutrochium fistulosum (hollow Joe Pye weed)

TRIANGLES

Some flowers are more triangular in profile like Iris, Lilium (lily), and Hymenocallis (spiderlily).

The triangles of Lilium superbum

STARBURSTS

Starbursts are where the floral parts radiate out from a central point like Echinacea (coneflower) and even Rhododendron (azalea). Just be aware that if aster family members hold their rays up then when viewed from a distance they may appear like horizontal lines.

The starbursts of wild Echinacea pallida (pale coneflower)

SPRAY

Finally, sprays are an amorphous shape of dense flowers that resembles someone spraying out of a can or bottle. Some of our grasses fall into the category of sprays like Eragrostis (purple lovegrass) and Muhlenbergia (muhly grass), and even asters can act similarly when they come into bloom in the fall.

Spray of Eragrostis spectabilis (purple lovegrass)

MAXIMIZE THE EFFECT OF FLOWER SHAPE IN DESIGN

Here are a few things to consider when thinking about flower shape in planting design.

1. When you develop a mood board for a planting, sketch out a simple shape to show the inflorescence. That will help ensure that all the flowers don’t look the same. For example, if you use flat-headed Echinacea, Achillea (yarrow), and Parthenium in a planting, they all may be read as a horizontal line when viewed from a distance. Variety will help the eye read complexity across a site.

2. In a particular area, strive to have 3–5 different types of flower shapes. With smaller areas, you likely want less, and for larger areas you can increase their number.

3. Consider how long the floral shapes will last. A triangle shaped lily will only be there for a short time, but the dots of Eryngium yuccifolium (rattlesnake master) will hold through the end of the season.

4. Have a matrix for shapes to pop against. I’ve seen “naturalistic plantings” where it features only floriferous seasonal fillers, and it doesn’t look right. The floral shapes have nothing to truly pop against. Carex (sedges), low growing grasses, and other basal foliage species can provide a foil for them.

5. Keep groups in mind. Have 7 plants of vertical lines rising out of 15 plants that create horizontal lines. Having just one of each next to each other looks weird.

6. Long views are better so that the shapes are more easily viewed.

7. You can also build in repetition of shapes, but to keep it from getting too boring consider repeating flower shapes at different levels. For example, have the dot flowers of Allium low to the ground and higher Eryngium dots on sticks.

Of course flower shape is just one aspect when we are considering the plant architecture and form in naturalistic design. There are many others to think about with how plants grow, how they emerge from their roots, and more.

Join me LIVE on June 30 at 6 PM CDT for my newest webinar Designing with Plant Shape and Form.

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What to Notice About a New Native Plant

“I want to look at a plant coming up here in a second,” I said to Karen as she drove down the road.

“Ok,” she replied.

20 seconds later I said, “Ok, here it is. Pull over at this road.”

“What!?!” She replied going 70 mph. “This soon?” Of course, she missed the turn because of my poor communication, and we had to go down and come back to find the plant.

And, then she safely pulled off onto a side road as she probably wondered why she couldn’t have married an accountant instead.

Such are the adventures of living life with a horticulturist.

There in the right of way was a large clump of a plant I had never seen before. A year ago as we were driving to Tennessee in late May with Karen at the wheel again, I noticed this large clump of white flowers on the side of the road. With the quick glance at 70 mph, I noted it looked like a Penstemon digitalis (foxglove beardtongue), but since mine had finished blooming, it had to be something else since this plant was in full bloom. I recalled colleagues sharing photos on Instagram of a white blooming Physostegia around this time of the year. A quick glance at iNaturalist showed a species nearby, Physostegia angustifolia. But, I would have to get out and investigate further to confirm. By this point we were too far down the road. I grabbed a quick screenshot on my Compass app to note the location. I figured we would be back this way again sometime in late May.

A year later, I could confirm it was indeed Physostegia angustifolia, also known as narrow-leaf obedient plant, or to a certain playful spouse as the marital strife plant for reasons you can surmise from above.

One of my favorite aspects of native plants is that we can actually go nearby in the wilds to see where they grow. And, even more fun is discovering new ones. Normally, I like to grow plants for a bit before I feature them on the blog, but I realized that this encounter would be the perfect time to share a simple approach that I use when I meet a new plant in the wild.

We use a scale to measure mass in science, and I use the acronym SCALE—site, character, association, lens, and envision—to assess a plant’s essence in the wild. It’s a field-based acronym I use for learning about a plant in its native habitat.

• SITE: Where does it grow? Make observations about the soil, light, moisture, slope, and surrounding area. Here it was in a mesic flat spot in full sun. I would have to take a soil test to learn more about the nutritional status, but from looking around other plants were growing well.

• CHARACTER: What does it look like? Note the form, texture, bloom, and structure. Also consider what else do you know about the genus or family that helps you understand the character. Physostegia are in the mint family, thus explaining the large group and the square stems with opposite leaves. I noted the narrow leaves, hence the epithet angustifolia, which means narrow-leaved. They had an upright, fine-textured form that blended in well with the grass. And, the flowers were lovely. In the grassy right of way, their white blooms nodded and looked like little wedding dresses as they waved in the breeze. I didn’t notice much of a fragrance. My guess was the plant has spread via rhizomes, and it was likely all one clone.

• ASSOCIATIONS: What role does it play in its environment? What other plants are nearby? And, does it have any connections with other species? I noticed that nearby were other east Texas species like pines, poison ivy, and sweetgum. I also saw bees were visiting the flowers. These observations can start to give you a sense of the ecological role it might serve.

• LENS: What lens or models like Grime’s Triangle, sociability, and plant layers help you visualize how it grows? The clump was quite large, maybe 15 × 15 ft wide, so clearly it had some competitive tendencies which led to a high sociability value. And, it would likely be a seasonal filler in its role.

• ENVISION: Last, ask how you can envision it in plantings. Is it worth trialing to further observe how it performs before using it large scale? Do you need to understand the phenology and seasonal behavior? I felt this Physostegia is another wonderful option as I look for candidates to help fill this gap that we encounter in late may and early June as we lose the spring flush and summer plantings start to take hold.  My guess is since it is blooming so early, it would likely be dormant by later in the year. And, since the thin leaves hide in grass, using it in a grassy area would help to fill the gap it might leave. And, it would likely need some disturbance to help keep the rhizomes under control.

I feel like some caveats need to be mentioned for stopping alongside a road. Make sure you’re safely off the road. My preference is to find a safe pull off or side road where parking is an option. Be conscientious you are not damaging plant populations, and be aware of any laws regarding plant collecting or trespassing.

I left confident that I had found a new-to-me species to use in naturalistic plantings here in the southeast. SCALE helped me quickly make sense of its identity and its potential.

And, I left promising to buy Karen some coffee to patch things up. The wild has so much to teach us if we have a little curiosity and a patient co-pilot.

Minding the Garden Gap

It’s been a bit of a weird year flower-wise at Ephemera Farm.  Overall, plants bloomed later. Our first Baptisia alba (white wild indigo) flowers that emerged were partially aborted.  They then responded by sending up a second flush, which made them bloom a bit later.  One of my Amsonia hubrichtii (thread-leaf bluestar) waited until late April to emerge.  It’s currently in full flower in mid-May instead of mid-April.  And, my beloved Penstemon murrayanus (coral penstemon) were also much weaker in habit.  

I attribute these observations to a moody February.  We had half a week of temperatures above 80°F (one day was 88°F!), followed by a drop to 17°F on February 19th.  My guess is the warmth began coaxing the plants out of dormancy, and they were stunted with the cold snap.  

Don’t get me wrong. We still had an incredible April as seen in the header image above. It just felt different than previous years. And, I probably still have some lingering anxiety about the aborted Baptisia flowers from a late freeze we had that wiped the plants out a few years ago. It is a dominant anchor during our floral peak, and the round mounds with seed pods above helped carry us through the May gap. Its absence was especially noticeable that year.

However, I realized that even if the Baptisia were gone this year, I’ve really plugged the May gap by filling the garden with plants like Echinacea purpurea (purple coneflower), Hydrangea quercifolia (oakleaf hydrangea), Monarda stipitatoglandulosa (Ouachita beebalm), Rudbeckia maxima (giant coneflower), and Salvia farinacea ‘Henry Duelberg’ (mealy-cup sage) that help carry us through post-peak bloom. By filling the May gap I’ve lessened the effect that the climate can have on one particular wave of bloom, and these plants also help maximize seasonal interest later.

Gaps are periods in the garden where not much captures the eye, nourishes wildlife, or invites engagement. They have often been discussed from the perspective of annual displays. In Succession Gardening for Adventurous Gardeners, Christopher Lloyd wrote about the June gap in English gardens that occur after the winter and spring bedding fades and discussed approaches to mind the gap.  

Gaps also exist in naturalistic plantings.  And, coming at it from the ecological side of things, a lack of flowers can mean less nectar or pollen for insects and animals in the garden.  They can occur in early spring, post-peak bloom, the height of summer when it is hot and dry, or even into autumn and winter. Gaps tend to be an issue especially later in the year because we gardeners either front load the garden with too much for spring and summer or we forget to think forward to autumn and winter, times when the garden needs strong elements to carry us through the last days of the growing season.

I filled our May gap by really paying attention in the garden. I asked the question, “What do I want to see that isn’t here?” I paid attention to views and spaces where we spent our time. Then, I set about identifying and propagating species that could help me fix what was missing.

It takes planning and time to reconcile the gaps we encounter in gardens. We often have to think months ahead because it takes time for plants to grow and develop. Sure, I could go to the garden center and buy plants, but questions arise about cost, availability, and numbers needed. To achieve the effects we want in naturalistic plantings, we typically need large numbers. Plus, it takes time for perennials and woodies to establish to give the garden that feeling of permanence.

There are decisions that I make at this time of the year to maximize seasonal interest for later. Mid-May is a key time for me to complete tasks in my garden to minimize potential gaps in the future.

• I cut back our asters and other fall-flowering perennials like Helianthus sp. (sunflower), Coreopsis tripteris (tall coreopsis), and Hyptis alata (clustered bush mint). Some asters are actually blooming now due to enough vegetative material being up during short days earlier this year.

• Most of our winter annual self sowers and ephemerals are now finished with bloom and are going to seed.  I collect what seed I can that I want to propagate for later, and I remove their tattered stems to freshen the beds.

• I cut back our Carex texensis (Texas sedge).  This species serves as the matrix, and because the culms are very long, they can make the planting look like a bad hair day.  After the May cut back they will reflush within a few weeks to make a nice groundcover of green for the rest of the growing season.

• Finally, I’m taking notes now of changes I want to make next year. I find taking pictures on my phone, circling the changes I want, and saving them in a note labeled 2026 helps to organize my thoughts.

As you come out of this spring’s floral peak, ask yourself does your garden carry your attention through the entire year or just in the spring or summer? Are there gaps that frustrate you, or maybe you haven’t even noticed them yet?

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It’s packed with practical strategies and plant pairings that help you identify seasonal blind spots, plug floral gaps, and build a garden that performs ecologically and visually no matter the month.

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Carex texensis | Texas sedge

One of my biggest challenges for naturalistic planting in the southeast has been finding a consistent grassy groundcover species to serve as a low matrix.  Sure, some forbs can cover the ground, but they often will rise later in the season, causing me to lose my green foil.  

I have tried a number of grassy species. I love the options below and have a number of them in my garden, but they haven’t quite risen to the standard for me to universally use them across the property. 

• Eragrostis spectabilis (purple lovegrass) tends to be short-lived. 

• Muhlenbergia reverchonii (rose muhly) doesn’t take our wetness well (or our cold either it seems from this year). 

• Sporobolus heterolepis (prairie dropseed) does well, but one must have patience in it getting established. 

• Carex cherokeensis (Cherokee sedge) is great especially for wet areas and growing with competitors, but it can choke smaller plants out. 

• Schizachyrium scoparium (little bluestem) can be hit or miss based on the provenance and growing conditions. 

• Andropogon virginicus (broomsedge) and Andropogon ternarius (split-beard bluestem) are seedy and tend to have short lifespans. 

• Carex albicans (white-tinged sedge), Carex leavenworthii (Leavenworth’s sedge) and Carex flaccosperma (blue wood sedge) grow well but can burn in full sun.  

My best option so far has been Carex texensis (Texas sedge), a native that we’ve found on the property here at Ephemera Farm.  I love the thread-like foliage, and I can count on it being green year round.  It can grow in sun or shade and tolerates wet, mesic, and dry conditions well.

When we first moved in, I relaxed mowing a bit to see what was native on the property, and Texas sedge was just one species that I found.  Some of my first clumps I tried in beds were rescues I found on our fence row where hogs had uprooted them.  I was very impressed with how quickly they adjusted to growing in my plantings and how graceful they appeared.  So, I started bringing more clumps into the garden.  

Carex texensis (Texas sedge) grows well in our yard.

Back then I didn’t know what species this great sedge was.  I had bought some Carex texensis from Hoffman Nursery and noted how similar the seed heads were with my wild type.  Charles Bryson helped me sort the identity out.  I saw him helping someone online with keying out a carex, and I shared a few photos with him.  After a few back-and-forths, he showed me how to key out Carex texensis. The only difference between my plants and the ones from the nursery was the culm length.  Mine were much longer.

For plants already in my beds, I prefer to divide them in winter so that they have a chance to establish in the wetter months. The plant slowly propagates itself by expanding the clump so that it can approximately double in size each year.  I then can use a soil knife or sharp shovel blade to slice the clump in half.  One half stays and the other finds a new spot in the garden.  If I’m patient and need to cover more ground, I can even divide the separated clump into smaller pieces.  

A wheelbarrow full of Carex texensis from our yard.

As I’ve worked to fill gaps in new plantings this year, I’ve returned to our yard from whence they came. I prefer to dig these wild clumps while they are in flower so that they are easier to see.  I lift the clump, prick out any weedy stragglers, and then divide it in half if it is large enough.  I water the clumps lightly so that while I’m moving around the garden planting them they are not sitting there drying out.  I cut the seedheads off to let the plant redirect energy and to keep them from looking like a ratty mess of hair.  The seedheads have a way of interlocking together during the transplanting process. 

Clumps of Texas sedge that are large enough can be divided with a soil knife.

Carex texensis clumps ready to go in the ground.

My only complaint is that it can look a wee bit ratty at certain times of the year—fall as the season is winding down (but, let’s be honest, in Texas what’s not looking ratty then?), as we come out of winter, and after they finish flowering with their spindly seed scapes.  For fall, I just accept their senescence, but for late winter and after flowering I give them a good haircut with a pair of shears.  I can tell the plants that haven’t been cut back.  They tend to have more dead foliage in them.  

But, that simple amount of maintenance is worth it to have a reliable, adaptable matrix species for plantings that can provide a green ground cover year round.

A mature Carex texensis with a few Carex leavenworthii in front of it flowers in our garden bed this spring.

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KEEP GROWING