Phoradendron leucarpum | American mistletoe

“What in the tarnation,” I muttered under my breath. Walking in the backyard picking up fallen sticks I noticed in the distance a branch that was quite different. Instead of a drab detritus, there was life in its verdant green.

Phoradendron leucarpum

It was mistletoe, and the strong winds had blown it down and far out of the drip line of the giant water oak in our backyard.

What timing! A week before the holidays and here mistletoe had fallen in our backyard.  I delighted seeing it laden with white berries and tried to recall if I had ever seen fruit on a specimen.

Thomas Nuttall named the genus Phoradendron. This name translates as thief (phor-) wood (-dendron), an appropriate allusion to their parasitic habit that robs the tree of water, nutrients, and sugars. The particular one in my water oak is the native Phoradendron leucarpum (American mistletoe). And, leucarpum translates as white fruit, a nod to the sparkling berries.

The white berries of mistletoe

The common name refers to its dispersal mechanism. Mistle is an Old English word for dung, and tan, which became -toe, means twig. Though dung might seem repulsive, in olden days people were amazed to see a plant spread by bird poop that had no roots. They revered a plant that could grow out of another tree and be emerald green in the depths of winter.

And over the years it has been known as an emblem of peace, for protecting homes and babies from evil spirits, and as a symbol for resurrection. I chuckle when people talk about kissing others under the mistletoe for the holidays. Nothing says I love you like smooching underneath a parasite that is spread by bird droppings.  Well, a hemiparasite that is.  Mistletoe is able to both photosynthesize its sugars as well as rob from the plant to which it is attached.

It can get to the point where it is too abundant on branches and starts leaching the tree’s life away.  Growing up I don’t recall a plethora of mistletoe in Tennessee.  But, after moving to Raleigh, NC it seemed like it was everywhere.  I even saw a thornless Gleditsia triacanthos (honey locust) once that was so loaded with mistletoe the plant looked chlorotic.

The leftmost Gleditsia triacanthos is so loaded with mistletoe that it is showing signs of nitrogen deficiency.

But, my water oak only has a few sprigs of mistletoe that are nice visual diversity amongst the tree’s bare silhouette in the winter time. The spheres of green hide amongst the fog of foliage during the growing season, but once frost burns the leaves off, their bushy silhouettes are seen against the sky. And, the birds that I’ve watched dancing in the winter trees the past few weeks also enjoy the fruit and help to spread it. American mistletoe is also the only host plant for the Great Purple Hairstreak, a beautiful butterfly which I first saw at Ephemera Farm in October of 2022.

A tattered Great Purple Hairstreak finds respite on my finger. This beautiful butterfly relies on our native American mistletoe as a host plant.

We humans can enjoy mistletoe, too. Harvesting mistletoe can be tricky. I mainly rely on what blows out of trees.  Some places it grows low enough to collect, but others shoot the sprigs out of trees with shotguns and rifles.

I realize that this species is not one that we might use typically in horticulture, but some people grow and propagate it for use around the holidays. The RHS provides details on how to grow your own.  Just know that the host plants for our native American mistletoe maybe a bit different. With having a plant that’s broken off and laden with berries, I’m looking to find a few good trees on the fencerow to use as a host and have more plants (and hopefully hairstreaks) in about five years. It can grow on 60 different species of trees including ashes, elms, maples, oaks, poplars, tupelos, walnuts, and willows. The inside of the fruit is sticky and viscus, too, hence the family’s name Viscaceae. Thus, some people just stick the berries on tree bark.

That way I won’t have to rely on wind for mistletoe in future years to hang in the house and entice my sweetie for a kiss.

Just don’t mention the parasitic bird poop part to Karen.

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KEEP GROWING

Creating a Bloom Calendar for Better Planting Design

One of the challenging parts of naturalistic planting is deciding what plants to combine together (header image).  Blending species requires an understanding of what grows well in an area along with when plants emerge, burgeon into leaf and fade, start and stop flowering, and yield fruit and seed.

A bloom calendar that captures the minutiae of plants through the seasons is immensely useful for beginners and experts alike.

With January only a few weeks away, now is time to prepare for creating your own bloom calendar for next season that will serve you for years to come.

WHAT IS PHENOLOGY?

Often this tool is called a bloom calendar.  But, for design it’s helpful to think bigger picture than just flowers.  When do certain plants emerge, have good fall color, or fade into dormancy?

The study of how organisms respond to yearly cyclical phenomena like climate and seasonal shifts is called phenology.  

There is power in understanding how plants respond to the progression of the seasons.  For example, the citizen science National Phenology Network allows users to track the progress of spring and emergence of pests.  

But, these regional or national maps are nothing compared to knowing what is happening in your own backyard.  I’m sure you too have chuckled at the references that state this plant blooms from June–October when you know you only get two weeks of color out of it in September.  Creating a calendar that captures bloom and other plant growth stages allows for greater accuracy. 

Learning the phenology of your site also helps you recognize patterns.  It forces you to stop and pay attention to what is actually occurring around you. One of the most beautiful examples of a phenological calendar is the 72 seasons that is observed in Japan, which I learned about from Midori Shintani of Tokachi Millennium Forest.  Such trivial events like first peach blossoms, rotten grass becomes butterflies, and wild geese return are celebrated and enjoyed as part of this calendar. 

CAPTURING OBSERVATIONS

Do you remember exactly when that plant bloomed this year?  Yea, me neither.  Capturing observations helps you remember for later.

You should decide how to capture phenology before making your calendar.  Consistency helps to be sure that your observations are all in one place.  

Writing is a simple approach to note the start, peak, and stop of bloom and other growth stages.  Just grab a notebook and use a pencil in case it gets wet outside.  I like how James Hitchmough detailed in his notebook not only bloom but emergence.  You could also use an actual calendar or day planner to jot down details. 

Another approach I use is to take photos on a phone and digital camera.  Usually the date is included in the image metadata.  You might consider putting them in a specific album so that they are all in one place.  

You can also capture gardening tasks in the calendar.  Note when you cut the asters back and when they correspondingly flower the following autumn.  Jot down when seed are ripe and need to be collected from certain plants.  

It’s worthwhile noting when certain plants go dormant as well.  That allows you to know when bulbs will be absent and gaps need to be filled.  

You don’t have to get everything this year.  Capture as much as you can.  If you’re like me in the past, you’ll do good up until about March or April, and then it becomes sensory overload trying to capture everything during the grand emergence.  Focus on what’s most important.  Maybe this year capture perennials and next focus on trees and shrubs.  Or, keep it simple and jot down three or five observations each week to slowly build your list.  

CREATING THE CALENDAR

A screenshot of my Ephemera Farm Phenology Calendar

While you can add things to your calendar throughout the growing season, I find winter a nice time to go through observations and make one because of the slower pace in the garden.  I bet even if you go through pictures from this previous year you would have the beginnings of one!  

You can make a calendar on paper, but I prefer to use Excel (or Numbers or Google Sheets).  

You can create the calendar based on days or weeks.  But, there are some issues with that approach.  Some years plants may bloom early or late, so the start date will shift.  And, for those of us who work and have busy lives, we might miss the day the first daffodil, lily, or aster blooms.  

I prefer the strategy of thinking of a month as three parts: early (1–10), middle (11–20), and late (21–28+).  I don’t have to stop and think about what Julian week it is or if it is the first day something has flowered.  Swings in bloom are now less of an issue. 

This approach also helps me deal with the issue of days moving and unclean breaks in the week.  For example, week 1 of 2025 has 3 days in December and 4 in January.  It also saves space.  Instead of having 365 or 52 columns, I now have 36 uniform columns.  I type the species in the first column, and then I will fill in with a color close to the foliage, flower, fruit, or whatever I see that I want to document.  

In a spreadsheet, you can highlight cells and fill them with colors.  I have a Mac so yours may look different.

One option I like in Excel is the eyedropper in the fill options. The eyedropper is just above Cancel to the left in the box in the center of the image above.

With the eyedropper you can go to a plant photo and choose its color so that you have an accurate color fill in the calendar.  The eyedropper zooms in so that you can choose certain color pixels.  

I then fill cells to show the early, middle, or late period that a species started flowering and when it stopped. For some plants I will also note emergence, when to cut back, when it goes to seed, or persistence with winter interest.  

ASSESS AND REVIEW THE CALENDAR

Once you have a bloom calendar, it helps to pause and look at it.   Are there plants you can pair for better color or texture combinations because they have similar timings of bloom or other growth stages?  Are there gaps where you miss flowers?  For example, I noticed in August this year few things were in bloom.  

Your calendar is not static.  You can make changes and update it over the seasons.  Print it off and walk through the garden with it in hand once a week. Ask yourself what did you miss last year?  What is on track?  What is early or late?  

If you capture phenology over a couple of seasons, you’ll begin to notice patterns of when plants bloom.  For example, I can reliably count on Symphyotrichum oblongifolium ‘Raydon’s Favorite’ to bloom right after the autumn equinox.  These reliable plants become bellwethers for practices and predictions in the garden.  

THE POWER OF THE CALENDAR

Creating a bloom calendar is how I have been successful crafting plant communities at Ephemera Farm.  I study when plants emerge, bloom, and perform in the garden.  Then I pair them based on my observations. And, this practice has also allowed me to become more intimate with the land around me.

So, get ready to start your calendar with the new year. I’m sure it’ll help you enjoy your garden even more.

WANT MY CALENDAR?

The Ephemera Farm Phenology Calendar features over 130 plants that I grow in east Texas (zone 8b) broken down by early, middle, and late flowering time of each month.  It is a great reference for those who are gardening and designing for the Deep South.  Plus, as an Excel file you can edit and update it to your site.  

You get it free with purchasing my bootcamp The Naturalistic Planting Primer for $49.  

Or, you can buy the calendar by itself as a $10 digital download with the button below.  

The Contrast of Fog

Part of the joy of waking early is seeing the garden through unusual atmospheric phenomena. Beaming from a warm golden sunrise.  Covered in powder from hoar frost.  Or, heavy dew that embelishes every panicle and spiderweb with diamonds.

Foggy mornings are also special.  I have sat and watched fog move like a ship slowly across the sea as it drapes everything in a shroud of gray.  Even sometimes when caught by wind it performs acrobatics swirling as it comes out of the forests beyond our garden to envelope the space.

From the perspective of design, fog also shows plantings in a new light.  Now those emergents that have pierced through the layer of foliage below are brought into even stronger relief against the borrowed landscape beyond as it blurs from view.

And, a foggy November morning is an excellent time to study textures and form in the garden. What remains of the plants’ work is on full display with their black and brown weathered creations against the gray shroud behind.  A trick I learned years ago to determine if a planting had good structure and texture was to make color images black and white. And with the fog enhancing the contrast, I did just that with these images.

Lilium formosanum (Formosan lily)

As my eyes scan the beds, I see the dark stems of Lilium formosanum (Formosan lily), whose flowers bloomed in the height of summer.  Now, their seedheads are suspended above the fray. For the rest of winter the will stand stolid as narrow skyscrapers above the slumbering plant community below.

Helianthus radula (rayless sunflower)

I squat down to see the effect through Helianthus radula (rayless sunflower), a quirky native that produces button flowers in fall that become seedheads.  I make a note that once they dry I need to collect seed for next year as this species is on my list of wanting more.  The birds will make quick work of them if I don’t.

Eutrochium fistulosum (hollow joe pye weed)

In the distance I see the rising spires of Eutrochium fistulosum (hollow joe pye weed).  The leaves are now dark brown with fluffy seedheads above. I saved this plant years ago after it was bulldozed in a power line clearing, and from that clump it has produced many progeny.  I notice that I missed a late morning glory that squirmed its way up the plant to set seed, and I’ll undoubtedly have to wrestle the stems free of its vines yet again next year.  

Helianthus argophyllus (silver-leaf sunflower)

I turn to look at the patch and see the silhouettes of Helianthus argophyllus (silver-leaf sunflower) against the sky. I celebrated this ruderal in an earlier post this year, and it has now finished flowering.  Karen has even collected some of the seedheads as they are quite ornamental after flowering.  

Helianthus angustifolius (swamp sunflower)

Helianthus angustifolius (swamp sunflower) also rises high against the gray.  It has grown too thick in this spot, and I will be lifting it and relocating it to our swale in the backyard soon.  

Hyptis alata (clustered bushmint)

One of my favorite perennials for winter interest is Hyptis alata (clustered bushmint). It flowers in September, and after bloom the seedheads last all the way into spring. Spiderwebs are draped like high wires between the plants.

Yes, there is much to appreciate on foggy mornings while you can.  By now, the fog is lifting, and so has my spirit of seeing the garden in a different way.

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KEEP GROWING

Layer by Layer: Simplifying Naturalistic Planting Design

Planting design can be overwhelming for people. Where do you start? How do you combine plants together?

With naturalistic planting, grouping plants in layers simplifies design. Layers help you think about how plants fill space—not just horizontally, but also vertically. Planting in layers also resembles what we see in wild, healthy ecosystems.

LAYERS IN THE WILD

If you look across a wildscape, you will notice layers of vegetation where there are clear breaks between certain plant types. It may be one, two, three, or more that are visible.

The theory of niche partitioning explains why these layers exist. A niche is the role that an organism has in the environment while considering the resources that an organism uses to survive and its interactions with other creatures. No two organisms can occupy the same niche. For example, low sedges grow along the ground in filtered light while tall perennials soar above.

In plant communities, we see plants have evolved different growth habits to survive in the same space. In Sowing Beauty, James Hitchmough notes two driving factors of why plants grow in layers are their different strategies of light capture and for enhancing the potential for pollination.

The layer of seasonal flowers Castilleja indivisa (Texas Indian paintbrush) and Salvia lyrata (lyre-leaf sage) emerge out of a grassy layer while Baptisia alba (white wild indigo) rises in prominence behind, forming a third layer in this roadside community.  

In this bog habitat, Sarracenia alata (pale pitcher plant) grows out of a grassy matrix. Scattered around are woody shrubs beneath a canopy of pines.

Even in this managed pasture, two layers are visible, the grassy groundcover and the emerging Baptisia sphaerocarpa (yellow wild indigo).

THE PLAYERS IN LAYERS

Layers simplify our design approach by allowing us to break the planting into smaller groups.

We need a system to utilize layers in naturalistic planting design. Different practitioners have approached their use of layers similarly but have given them different names. If we look at three different books, Planting: A New Perspective by Piet Oudolf and Noel Kingsbury, Planting in a Post-wild World by Thomas Rainer and Claudia West, and Naturalistic Planting Design by Nigel Dunnett, we can see a model for four distinct layers in naturalistic planting design. They include

• primary plants / structural layer / anchors

• repeating plants / seasonal theme / satellites

• scatter plants / filler plants / free floaters

• matrix

The top three in the list above primarily function for beauty and ecology while the matrix serves as a groundcover layer to prevent weed growth.

This table provides an overview of the different names of each naturalistic layer from various authors. 

PRIMARY PLANTS / STRUCTURAL LAYER / ANCHORS

This layer provides the dominant presence and aesthetics for most of the growing season in the planting. The plants can be shrubs or small trees, but in naturalistic design big perennials typically fill this role.

The species in this layer are competitors that can achieve size over the growing season and have a presence for several months. Another important aspect is they carry winter interest for the slower part of the gardening season.

Examples include Baptisia alba (wild white indigo), Eutrochium fistulosum (joe pye weed), Eryngium yuccifolium (rattlesnake master), Rudbeckia maxima (giant coneflower), and Panicum virgatum (switchgrass).

Baptisia alba (right) is a wonderful early structural plant at Ephemera Farm.  After it finishes flowering, it produces structural seedheads that can last in the garden into winter.  On the left is Arnoglossum plantagineum (prairie indian plantain), and while it provides good structure in the spring, it will go dormant in early summer as the stem collapses.  

At Chanticleer, Eryngium yuccifolium (rattlesnake master) acts as a structural plant in this planting on the elevated walkway.  It starts flowering in the summer, and the seedheads last into winter.  

SCATTER PLANTS / SEASONAL THEME / SATELLITES

This layer provides our seasonal interest in the planting. The strategy here is to choose 2 or 3 plants that pair well together in different seasons for around 4–6 waves of color to appear throughout the growing season. These waves are when plants come into bloom at similar times to provide color interest.

Here again I like to think of plants that can provide multi-season interest. For example, Pycnanthemum tenuifolium (narrow-leaf mountain mint) is a lower growing species, but by using it we can have interesting columns of foliage in the spring, flowers in the summer, and seedheads for autumn and winter.

I do like the name satellites, this idea of plants revolving around greater beings of mass in the garden that are anchors. Nigel Dunnett notes that he sites these around the anchors and then has them scattered throughout the planting as singles and groups of three. Others approach this layer considering sociability, a plant’s natural approach to arranging themselves in groups in the wild. There may be groups of 3–20 plants based on what naturally occurs in the wild.

Here’s a list of species I’ve used as season interest here at Ephemera Farm.

• March: Narcissus pseudonarcissus (lent lily), Muscari neglectum (grape hyacinth), Ipheion uniflorum (star flower)

• April May: Penstemon digitalis (foxglove beardtongue), Phlox pilosa (prairie phlox), Marshallia caespitosa (clumping Barbara’s buttons)

• June-July: Pycnanthemum tenuifolium (narrow-leaf mountain mint), Stokesia laevis (Stokes’s aster)

• August–September: Gaillardia aestvalis var. winkleri ‘Grape Sensation’ (Winkler’s firewheel), Physostegia virginiana (obedient plant)

• October–November: Muhlenbergia capillaris (pink muhly grass), Symphyotrichum oblonigfolium (aromatic aster), Symphyotrichum lanceolatum (panicled aster)

At Ephemera Farm Phlox pilosa and Penstemon species make a wonderful seasonal filler layer.  

Verbena bonariensis (tall verbena) and Oenothera lindheimeri (white gaura) make a good seasonal theme layer in this planting in the Tower of London Superbloom.  

SELF SOWERS / FILLER PLANTS / FREE FLOATERS

This layer features ruderals that self sow themselves around the garden. These plants don’t last long, and they maybe quite abundant after planting and less years later. But, if bare soil or a disturbance occurs, they will quickly germinate and fill in the gap. You are basically creating your own seed bank in the soil, but instead of it dominantly being weeds it is now attractive plants.

We generally have two periods here at Ephemera Farm where seeds germinate, fall and winter for most cool-season plants and short-lived perennials and spring for most warm season plants.

• Fall: Strepthanthus maculatus (clasping jewelflower), Lupinus subcarnosus (sandyland bluebonnet), Trifolium incarnatum (crimson clover), Gaillardia pulchella (firewheel), Nemophila phacelioides (Texas baby blue eyes)

• Spring: Gomphrena globosa (globe amaranth), Celosia spicata (celosia), Chamaecrista fasciculata and Chamaecrista nictitans (partridge peas), Cosmos sulphureus (sulfur cosmos)

Lupinus subcarnosus (sandy-land bluebonnet) germinates to fill gaps in my plantings at Ephemera Farm.  

Nemophila phacelioides (Texas baby blue eyes) germinates in the fall in disturbed spots and then rewards us with beautiful flowers in early spring.  

THE MATRIX

I’m happy that the authors all chose the same name for the groundcover layer. But, I think that’s because of how this layer is primarily functional in nature. The role is to cover the ground to prevent the growth and emergence of weeds.

Carex texensis (Texas sedge), Carex flaccosperma (blue wood sedge), Carex cherokeensis (Cherokee sedge), Sporobolus heterolepis (prairie dropseed) and Eragrostis spectabilis (purple love grass) are a few that I use in this role. However, forbs like Glandularia canadensis (rose vervain) and Conoclinium greggii (Gregg’s mist flower) that spread as groundcovers can also function in this role.

Bulb foliage from Narcissus (daffodil) or Lycoris (red spider lily) can also serve this function, shifting from seasonal filler to ground cover layer later.

Carex texensis (Texas sedge) has become my go to matrix species at Ephemera Farm. It’s native on site and is tolerant of sun and shade conditions.

Echinacea pallida ‘Hula Dancer’ (pale coneflower) and Dianthus carthusianorum (Carthusian pink) emerge from the matrix of Sporobolus heterolepis in Oudolf Field.

PUTTING LAYERS INTO PRACTICE

If you’re starting from scratch, here’s the steps I would take to start developing layered naturalistic plantings.

• You first have to know what species will perform well in your area. Visiting arboretea, wild areas, trial gardens, and garden centers is a good start. Many of the plants I now use in my beds were trialed on site for a few years before committing to their use.

• Keep a bloom calendar of when plants emerge and go through stages of growth and flowering. Note in your calendar what does well in your area and as well as others in your general proximity. From here you can start to build the timing between plant foliage, flower, fruit, or form.

• Once you have a species list, grab pictures you’ve taken or found on the internet and build a mood board. It can easily be done in a word document or slide show app. Consider if there are ways that you can play off the layers colors or textures. For example, when my Joe pye weed blooms, it’s a similar color to the Gaillardia ‘Grape Sensation’ flowers.

An example mood board of the species I rely upon for color at Ephemera Farm. Grouping plants in such a visual pattern allows you to start seeing patterns and combinations possible.

• Make sure that plants are compatible with their survival strategy. Competitors can outcompete lower layers.

• Consider height. Is everything the same height or is there variation? You are trying to avoid having everything the exact same height; otherwise you will just have one layer. Use references to determine the height. It helps to sketch out the plant height. Or, put the heights into Excel and make a bar graph. Even if you aren’t very good at drawing, just drawing height bars will help you compare how tall they get.

• Start simple. For small areas, limiting species diversity is important for greater impact. Too many species in one area will look like a mess. Assuming you have 3 structural plants, 5 waves of 3 seasonal plants (3 × 5 =15), and 2 matrix options, that’s 20 (3 + 15 +2) different plants.

• Choose your anchor plants first. Winter interest is one of the most important considerations in design because there will be a few months of the year when these plants are the dominant interest in the garden. And, make sure they can persist even with ice and snow load. While we are mainly focused on perennials, don’t forget that woody trees and shrubs can serve as anchors. Some woody species also can be coppiced to limit their eventual size.

• I would argue the next step is to decide on what you want your groundcover layer to be. Some practitioners will cover the site with the groundcover species first to allow it to establish for a few years. This manages the weed growth, and the stress will keep vigorous plants in check. Matrix species generally look better in bulk instead of having one here, one there. It’s helpful to grade between their blocks to slowly shift from say Carex texensis to Carex flaccosperma so they look blended.

• Next, fill in with the seasonal theme layer. Consider spacing them in so they appear in groups of 3 to 10 with some sole outliers.

• Last, plant or seed in the filler plants so they can fill gaps while the seasonal theme layer is getting established.

After planting evaluation is key. What looks good and what works? You may have to do slight adjustments over the years. But, that’s part of the joy of gardening with layers in naturalistic planting is learning what works together to create a beautiful, ecologically friendly design.

Do you want to learn more about naturalistic planting? Sign up for my waitlist for my upcoming class The Naturalistic Planting Primer. Even if you’re a newsletter subscriber, I’ll send you a special email to remind you when it goes live.

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KEEP GROWING

Salvia azurea | prairie sage

There’s no better light than October in the garden. The sun has moved south on the horizon and now filters through the thin thicket of trees to the east of the property filling the backyard with a warm glow. The shafts of light come through and illuminate slivers of the garden just long enough that scurrying into the house to grab the camera to capture the perfect scene is a waste. By the time I return, the light has shifted, and I am better to pause and just enjoy the moment. These fleeting moments are what we celebrate at Ephemera Farm.

The clear days that we had all month have brought with them no rain. We are becoming more parched by the day. Our last rain was a third of an inch in late September, and there’s a mere chance in next fortnight.

But, these cloudless days are a blessing for enjoying the bluebird sky that the recent cold fronts have brought. They clear the dust and humidity out of the air revealing the rich blue above.

We are hitting peak autumn bloom here at Ephemera Farm. Many of the plants are riding the wave from all the rain we had in the spring and summer, and so far they seem unfazed by the dry conditions.

Salvia azurea is a drought tolerant native for naturalistic plantings.

Take Salvia azurea (prairie sage), for example. It has been blooming since late September and shows no sign of slowing down. The blue flowers provide a different color against the tawny colors of autumn and match our cobalt blue sky so well.

Plants are tough and persistent. Research conducted after planting a mini-prairies in Nebraska showed that this perennial had one of the highest survival rates (80%) after 10 years. The authors also noted that the plant’s vigor began to choke out some of the Buchloe dactyloides (buffalo grass) and Bouteloua gracilis (blue grama). Its performance makes it worthwhile adding to the southern plantings.

I love looking at Salvia azurea against the bluebird sky where one almost can’t tell where the flower starts and the sky begins.

A Clouded Skipper visits Salvia azurea in the warm light of October.

I also enjoy seeing the pollinators visit this native. It is fun watching the inflorescences bob in the mornings as bees work the flowers. Even butterflies like Gulf Fritillaries and Clouded Skippers find it worthwhile to work the flowers.

If the bigger bees struggle to access the flower from the front, they may bypass pollination in an act called nectar thievery. They cut a hole through the top and access the nectar while never transferring pollen, thus potentially affecting seed set.

But, I’m not worried about the bee’s parasitic behavior as new seedlings readily appear. I even find them coming up in the cracks at the edge of the pavement. My plants came from wild collections in Louisiana and Oklahoma, and while there’s a difference in color from both locations, them mixing adds variety to the bloom display.

Oklahoma collected form of Salvia azurea was a lighter blue…

… but those prairie sage from Louisiana were a darker blue. Even the calyces and stems showed hints of dark blue.

I was greatly rewarded the other morning as I walked past a prairie sage that had dropped its flowers. The corollas from the late evening had fallen on the matrix of Eragrostis spectabilis (purple love grass) below, and the spent petals lay there suspended in time and place.

The heat of the sun would surely bake them later in the day, but for now they could be enjoyed. And, at least this time I had a camera.

Fallen art, the bilabiate flowers of Salvia azurea

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KEEP GROWING

The Power of Repetition: How Repeating Plants Unifies PLANTINGS

Gardeners can struggle with making naturalistic gardens feel connected and unified.  

I ran into this issue when I started my plantings at Ephemera Farm.  I had been a horticultural nomad for 8 years living in rental dwellings.  My amassed plants I threw into makeshift trial beds around our house to save me from having to water so much, and their proximity kept deer and other critters at bay.  With an eye towards naturalistic planting, I then added to this space species to evaluate how they grew in east Texas.   

But, once I built the fenced in patch for protecting my trial plants, it came time to start overhauling these trial beds for plantings.  As I took some plants out and left others I wanted to keep, the beds felt disconnected and disparate.  

I realized what was missing was repetition to create a sense of unity. I began to repeat plants in this area to make the beds feel unified.  Using the same plants throughout the space took the plantings from a crazy-looking collection to a garden.

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WHY REPETITION WORKS

Humans by nature are great at recognizing patterns to help us make sense of a chaotic world. 

In nature repeating plants breeds familiarity, and we realize the plants are connected as part of the whole space.  Because plants are usually growing where conditions are optimal for them and not others, we usually see a few species repeated across a landscape during their season of interest. A mature prairie or forest that has reached equilibrium with a few plants repeating looks much better than the chaos of a weedy field. 

Baptisia australis var. minor (wild indigo) repeats in a prairie near Dallas, TX.

The repeated rising spires of Arnoglossum plantagineum (prairie indian plantain) provide impact in early spring.

We can also find woodies repeated throughout a natural setting. Coppiced bonfires of Liquidambar styraciflua (sweet gum) blaze in this field and connect to those in the forest beyond.

While repeated plants in nature are randomly arranged, we can find inspiration in repetition in the wild and purposefully bring that into designed landscapes.

Repetition in the designed landscape is an application of the gestalt principles of similarity (where we group similar elements in our mind) and continuity (where the mind groups repeated items into something continuous).  Drawing from the research of Kaplan and Kaplan, repetition also builds coherence and legibility in the landscape.  It creates a sense of order and helps us quickly process what we see before us.  

It’s like a song.  The chorus repeats to give us something familiar to return to.

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REPETITION AT EPHEMERA FARM

Those beds that I told you about earlier have come a long way in seven years. I repeat plants that are seasonal stalwarts throughout the beds for all four seasons.  To help make the garden feel connected.

Repetition of Baptisia alba (wild white indigo), Penstemon digitalis (foxglove beardtongue), and Phlox pilosa (prairie phlox) make my garden feel connected in the spring.

Because so many perennials flower early in our hot climate, midsummer often feels dearth of flowers. Repeating Lilium formosanum (Formosan lily) helps provide interest in the heat.

Repeating Symphyotrichum oblongifolium ‘Raydon’s Favorite’ (aromatic aster) and Symphyotrichum drummondii (Drummond’s aster) helps make the space feel unified.

We cant forget around repeating plants in the matrix layer, a category where repetition is key. In the winter the haze of Eragrostis spectabilis still provides a foil for darker seedheads to pop against.

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REPETITION IN OTHER GARDENS

I’ve seen repetition used well in other gardens. Here’s some more inspiration to help you see other ways to repeat plants throughout a landscape.

Repetition in the Long Border at Great Dixter

Echinacea purpurea ‘Green Edge’ repeats through the southern portion of the Lurie Garden.

Muhlenbergia capillaris (pink muhly grass) repeated on the elevated walkway. After this grass was used in the elevated walkway plantings at Chanticleer…

…Joe Henderson said he repeated more on the rock ledge that’s some 350 feet away to make the garden feel more connected. So, repeated plants don’t have to be in close proximity.

Besides repeating the same plants, we can also repeat plant forms. At Hillside, the Digitalis ferruginea (rusty foxglove) and Veronicastrum virginicum (Culver’s root) have a similar emergent habit.

Repetition doesn’t have to be too overpowering. At Westerkade in Rotterdam, the neutral white Allium nigrum (black garlic) and rusty Aruncus ‘Horatio’ (goat’s beard) make the spaces feel connected. I like to imagine that a totally different design was in one of the two beds. Would they still feel unified if so? I think not.

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STRATEGIES FOR REPEATING PLANTS IN YOUR DESIGNS

I’m continuing to explore repetition in my garden to help other areas I’m planting feel more connected to the entire space.  Here are a few of the strategies I’m using that you can apply.

My next step is to compare my plant list of species and look through them to determine which ones have the greatest impact

• Identify key plants: Choose what species you want to repeat. Will they be a presence for multiple seasons or will they be more focused on a single season? Even trees and shrubs are fair game here. And, bonus points if your plants have ecological benefits!

• Make sure they perform well. The last thing you need is a repeated plant through your landscape that looks like trash. It’s ok if it eventually fades. While Baptisia alba is a season-long plant for most people, for us in east Texas they go dormant in early August, about three months before frost. I rely on asters and grasses to fill the gap they leave.

• Repeat with purpose: Repeating plants is a conscious choice that sacrifices variety but increases coherence. If you’re limited on room, you may have to make some hard calls on what to remove to be able to plant more of a particular species. Ask yourself is there anything here that struggles or looks bad? Consider removing that to make room for more repeating plants. Keeping a diary or bloom calendar can help with such decisions.

• Consider sociability. Sociability is the way that plants naturally group themselves in nature. Some have low sociability while others normally occur in large groups. Try to mimic the patterns you see in nature (or the pictures that you look up online through ecosystem sleuthing). But, remember that just because you plant species in groups similar to what you see in nature that they will automatically be in a stable community! That’s not true, and change can occur.

• Seasonal succession. Also consider time across the planting. Can you focus on having plants that appear in the same space at different times of the year? Perhaps have Narcissus (daffodils) emerge early in the spring through asters, and then when the foliage is collapsing, give them both a good cut back in mid-May. The daffodils will be dormant, and the asters will benefit from the reduction to keep them tight as they head into summer.

• Grow your own: Use division or seed propagation to strategically plant multiples across the landscape. Most of my repeated plants come from seed I’ve sown myself or divisions. And, if you want an in depth class on growing your own from seed, check out my Botanic Bootcamp Success with Seed Sowing.

• Cover the ground. Repetition is key in the groundcover layer. Too much diversity here, and the design can be chaotic. Repeat the same species but consider blending as you grade from one species (say Carex, sedge) to the next (Eragrostis, love grass).

• Consider rhythm. There is a duality of repetition. You want familiarity and connectedness, not boredom from everything being the same. If you don’t want to overdo one plant selection much, consider some variety. Mix up and use different colors of the same species. Or, repeat plant form, color, or shape amongst different species. Doing so creates a sense of a repeating theme throughout the landscape.

Repetition may seem simple, but its effects in a garden are profound. And, like I’ve employed at Ephemera Farm, by repeating key plants, you can create spaces that feel cohesive, connected, and in harmony with nature.

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KEEP GROWING

Helianthus argophyllus | Silver-leaf Sunflower

Fall arrived this week, officially on the calendar but also with the weather.  This weekend, we are enjoying glorious days, with lows in the 50’s and highs in the 80’s.  

Overall, it has been a good summer.  It hit me the other day that I haven’t had to water my perennial plantings once this season.  The rains have hit just right with well established beds.

Most years, the leaf necrosis I deal with has been has been due to drought stress, but this year I have more brown from the excess moisture and fungal diseases.  Perhaps the drier summer does have a benefit? 

Either way, my eye is keen for plants that look clean and fresh as we head into fall.  

Helianthus argophyllus

One of the best in my garden right now is silver-leaf sunflower, a ruderal that flowers through much of autumn and is graced by an atmosphere of pewter foliage.  The leaves have fine hairs, technically trichomes, that are soft to the touch.  

The silver color holds well through the season.  In the morning, the dew-covered leaves have more of a blue color as they reflect the sky above.   Rain will green the color a bit, but the leaves dry out the next day and return to shimmer.  While silver is a neutral color, the buttery yellow rays add a warmth to the plant.  

Like all plants that have made a good first impression with me, I remember exactly where I was when we first met.  I was standing in Central Park Conservatory Garden admiring this sunflower with argent leaves.  I eagerly asked the gardeners about the source for seed, but alas, they didn’t know.

It wasn’t until a few years later that I discovered it looking through the catalog from Southern Exposure Seed Exchange. I sowed the seeds of other cut flower Helianthus annuus and the silver Helianthus argophyllus.  They bloomed, but it didn’t.

At least not until days started to shorten in August.  One year I even had a self-sown seedling grow well over 7 feet tall before it ever produced a flower. This season, I noted the first flower on August 5.   

I’ve learned that plants either have a tendency to shoot up or to stay short and shrubby.  I’m going to save seed off the smaller ones.  The tall ones become an issue with our fall storms where they may fall over.  

One of the shorter forms where the flowers are more condensed together.

I’m working on redesigning the front of the patch to feel more integrated with the rest of the garden.  So, I went a bit thicker this year with the silver-leaf sunflowers there as a stopgap (header image).  While I’ve still had some self sowers from that first batch, I made an effort to start more of them from fresh seed from the beautiful seed packets of Hudson Valley Seed Company.  

While I never want to see a blasted armadillo under my plants, I love watching other creatures interact with this native annual.   

Male bumble bees still resting on Helianthus argophyllus after a cool night.

A single Helianthus argophyllus at the front of the patch.

This sunflower is a favorite of American bumble bees.  On cool mornings I have found the males sleeping outside on the flowers.  Later in the day, I’ve watched larger workers collect pollen.

And, before first light, the plants are already bobbing from the foraging of Carolina Chickadees.  The seedheads are unobtrusive, and I have no problem leaving them on the plant.  The spry birds will hang on the unassuming ripe seedheads, pick a seed out, and then fly up to a favorite perch to enjoy their snack.  

Find the Carolina Chickadee. If you look close, there’s a seed in it’s mouth.

I’m not worried about them stealing seed that I have to save for next year.  There’s plenty to go around.  

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KEEP GROWING

Applying Grime's Triangle to my Garden

One of the problems horticulturists have is the struggle of knowing how to appropriately site and manage plants in naturalistic plantings.

One of the most powerful tools I use to help with these issues is Grime’s Triangle or the CSR theory—a framework that categorizes plants based on their competitive (C), stress-tolerant (S), or ruderal (R) strategies.

Imagine being able to look at a plant, notice a few characteristics, and immediately know how to use it. That’s the power of understanding plant strategies. For me, these strategies are more useful than simply labeling plants as annual, perennial, or biennial because they reveal more about how the plant behaves in various conditions.`

But, theory only takes you so far. So, I wanted to share with you readers five ways I apply the CSR theory at Ephemera Farm.

1. Covering the Ground with Ruderals

Ruderals are fast-growing plants that thrive in disturbed areas. I use species like Lupinus subcarnosus (sandyland bluebonnets), Nemophila phacelioides (baby blue eyes), and Streptanthus maculatus (clasping jewelflower) to cover open gaps in my garden beds in spring while I wait for plants to emerge. Later in the summer, I count on Gomphrena globosa (globe amaranth), Celosia spicata (celosia), Bidens aristosa (tickseed sunflower), and annual sunflowers to provide summer interest and occupy unplanted spaces.

Ruderals in the form of cover crops can also improve the soil and prevent weeds, especially in areas where I grow edibles and cut flowers. In late summer I will sow crimson clover and mustard greens under my blackberries. These helps to prevent weed growth overwinter.

Lupinus subcarnosus (sandyland bluebonnet) fills in gaps in the garden through winter and early spring while other plants are just starting to grow.

Later in the summer, I use ruderals to cover spots I haven’t planted yet. The plus is that many of them also serve as cut flowers.

2. Choking Out Weeds with Competitors

In the more productive parts of my property where water, light, and nutrients are abundant, weeds can take over if the ground isn’t covered. In these areas I use competitors to help reduce weed growth. I interplant Carex cherokeensis with Symphyotrichum praealtum (willow aster) and Helianthus angustifolius (swamp sunflower). Carex covers the ground early in the spring, while the aggressive growth of the aster and sunflower chokes out weeds later in the season. This dynamic pairing ensures the area needs minimal attention during the year.

The dense growth of Helianthus angustifolius (swamp sunflower) limits the growth of weeds and unwanted species in the more fertile parts of our property.

3. Stress-tolerators add diversity to lawns

Stress-tolerators are plants that survive in tough conditions. Some of them go dormant for parts of the growing season, and we can use them to add diversity to our gardens and lawns.

Many people plant Narcissus (daffodils) for bright spring color. However, the downside is the abundant foliage that remains for months after flowering, which is necessary for next year’s blooms. The bulb foliage is also an issue in lawns.

I prefer stress-tolerators in turf that sync up with the mowing season like Claytonia virginica (spring beauty). This charming little plant blooms from December to March before going dormant. Later in the fall, Lycoris radiata (red spider lily), Rhodophiala bifida (oxblood lily), Habranthus tubispathus var. texensis (copper lily), and Zephyranthes chlorosolen (evening rain lily) bloom with their foliage emerging later and remaining up after frost. The last two have the added benefit of going to seed within a few weeks in case you need to do a few last cuts to the yard.

Zephyranthes chlorosolen (evening rain lily) blooms after a good rain. I’ll wait to mow over them until they set seed about three weeks later.

4. Disturbance for Managing Unwanted Plants

Disturbance is key to controlling unwanted plants and keeping competitors in check. In my garden, I use flame weeding and shallow cultivation to manage areas where weeds can take over. I’ve also invested in a Dutch hoe praised by Roy Diblik, which allows for easy push-pull weeding in tight planting spaces.

Tools like the wire weeder help me keep the soil disturbed to reduce weed growth.

5. Cutting Back Competitors

Many people have heard of the Chelsea Chop that helps to reduce upright growth. It is a form of disturbance that keeps competitive plants in check. It reduces their height, delays flowering, and makes blooms smaller but increases their number. While it is typically done in late May further north, I may cut plants back once or twice throughout the growing season.

I cut back a number of species here at Ephemera Farm to prevent them from flopping over—Eutrochium fistulosum (hollow joe pye weed), Vernonia baldwinii (western ironweed), Symphyotrichum (asters), Panicum virgatum (), Helianthus angustifolius (), and other giants. Most cut backs happen

Many of our the aster species I use from more northern haunts also have the issue that they emerge early enough in the spring that flowering is triggered under the short days. Cutting them back resets their flowering.

Cutting back competitors also helps reduce the ‘naked knees’ effect, where the lower foliage withers away and leaves bare stems.. A late spring or early summer cut back helps make clumps look tidier throughout the whole plant.

Symphyotrichum drummondii (Drummond’s aster) stems are already elongating in early April, and left unchecked will result in wiry stems come September.

Cutting Symphyotrichum drummondii to the ground helps reset the plant growth and results in a more densely flowering perennial.

The off white flowers of Symphyotrichum drummondii appear in a mound from a plant cut back the previous spring.

By applying Grime’s Triangle to my plantings, I create dynamic, resilient garden spaces that evolve with the seasons and thrive in various conditions. Understanding plant strategies helps me place the right plants in the right spots, which ultimately leads to healthier, more sustainable plantings.

Now, it’s your turn. Whether you’re filling gaps in your garden with fast-growing ruderals, using competitors to outcompete weeds, or diversifying your plantings with stress-tolerators, the principles behind Grime’s Triangle can guide you to make smarter planting choices. By observing your plants’ behaviors and using their strategies to your advantage, you can create a garden that not only looks beautiful but thrives with less maintenance and more resilience. Start small, test a few strategies, and watch how your garden transforms with the power of plant strategies in action.

Want to learn more? My presentation The Plant Strategies Playbook (⬆️) delves further into Grime's Triangle—an approach combining site, species, and management into one powerful framework. If you're eager to make smarter planting choices, fill gaps in your garden, and predict how plants will grow, this session is for you. Save time, resources, and become the eco-friendly gardener you aspire to be!

Habranthus tubispathus var. texensis | copper lily

If you live in Nacogdoches, you might have seen a weird sight on North Street.

A man was laying in a contorted, prostrate position on the sidewalk angling his camera for the best shot mere feet from the road with traffic zooming by.

That was me.

I was doing it for one of the most impressive displays of Habranthus tubispathus var. texensis (copper lily) I have seen.  The rain lilies were in full bloom with their warm, coppery, dare I say pumpkin spice color, but what made it special was the color echo with Helenium amarum (yellow sneezeweed) right behind.  These serendipitous color combos from Mother Nature give ideas of how to pair plants in the garden, and in this hell strip she shows us how we can still be creative in unforgiving urban spots.

It was in Raleigh as a graduate student that I learned that rain lilies are named so because they flower 3 to 5 days after precipitation.  They are a delayed rain gauge.  If you’ve been gone on a trip, come home, and see them blazing on the roadsides, you immediately know it rained a few days ago.  You just don’t know how much fell.  

I heard theories about why the rain triggers bloom from bulb rehydration to nitrogen or ozone in the rain to even changes in barometric pressure, but to date I haven’t heard of any data to solidly say one way or the other.  People have commented that sometimes irrigation will trigger bloom, but it’s nothing like the flowers that a good rain will bring.  

I knew a few cultivar clumps from visiting the JC Raulston Arboretum.  But, after moving to Texas I can say it’s nothing compared to seeing a patch of a thousand rain lilies in flower.  Rain lilies are plants that force us to humble ourselves and lay prostrate on the ground to appreciate their beauty.  You can’t just pick one and bring it up to eye level.  You have to get down and immerse yourself with them to see the legion in bloom.  

It’s not just what triggers them to bloom that is mysterious. Their origin is a bit enigmatic, too. In Argentina, Brazil, Chile, and Uruguay, there are similar forms of this plant found.  The population in the US is disjunct and begs the question has it always been here?  

One theory is that Spanish missionaries may have brought seeds from South America in the 1600’s and later.  It was documented in the 1800’s that the plant had spread to Alabama, and a report from 2017 stated that the bulbs were now found in Mississippi. It seems that humans are a key disperser.

I’m continuing that trend. Over the past few years I’ve been scattering seeds of copper lily along our front right of way where we keep it mowed so that we don’t have to contend with Texas mowing crews. These seeds come from large patches like the sidewalk population I photographed, an abandoned lot in town where my Muscari neglectum (starch hyacinth) originated, and another just down the road from our house.  This year is the first that I’ve noticed the colonies in our yard. I probably had 50 blooms in total.

About three weeks after rain lilies flower, they set seed.  It’s just long enough to let an area of turf go before it starts looking unshorn.  Their capsules rupture and release around 30–50 thin black seed.  It’s pretty easy to quickly fill the bottom of a cup of them, and seed will germinate within two weeks.

While I prefer to direct sow the seed for ease, I’ve also started rain lily seeds in pots, too. This approach is helpful if you want more control over germination.  But, just remember that the plants will be dormant for much of the garden season.  Empty pots are always a haven for weed seeds to try to get established.  And, there’s the risk of dumping a pot that is supposedly empty.  

And, then all is required is patience. In a few years after a good late summer thunderstorm, the seed I just sowed will be mature bulbs bursting into bloom to herald the return of the rains and announce the approach of fall. I can’t wait.

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KEEP GROWING

Lessons from Polly Hill Arboretum

One of the highlights of our summer was when Karen, Magnolia, and I traveled to Martha’s Vineyard in July for me to speak at Polly Hill Arboretum on cultivating a passion for native plants. I didn’t quite know what to expect of the area having never been to Martha’s Vineyard before, but I had heard wonderful stories about this famed island.

And over a four day period we got to explore the arboretum located in West Tisbury and learn more about this magical place.  Our gracious host was Tim Boland, executive director of the arboretum who I had met years ago at a Magnolia Society International meeting, and since then we had remained friends.  

Executive director Tim Boland with a Magnolia macrophylla (big leaf magnolia) that Polly named ‘Julian Hill’ since her husband Julian loved large white flowers.

He told us much about the wonderful Polly Hill that the arboretum is named after. Sometimes people think they’ve started too late in the gardening world to make an impact. Polly sowed her first seeds for the arboretum when she was 50. Her approach was to try as many seeds as she possibly could of temperate zone flora, and this trial and error process allowed her to learn what could grow in her island zone 7a habitat. She had very little formal training in horticulture save for a few botany classes she took to learn terminology, but her dedication to the craft and her efforts to make connections across the plant world made her a consummate plantswoman. She passed away at the age of 100 in 2007, but her legacy and impact on the world lives on.

One of her philosophies was, “Sharing is the very essence of the plant world.” And, Tim was kind enough to share a copy of Polly Hill: Leaves from a Life by Ralph Graves that featured endearing stories and quotes from Polly. I’ve included a few of those below along with inspiration from our visit. And, should you want to further explore the arboretum vicariously, their plant database is accessible using their IRISBG map or this explorer.

The Far Barn (header image) was one of the most incredible speaking venues I’ve enjoyed. It dated back to the mid-1800’s.

EmbracING the SPIRIT of Place

I was surprised by how agricultural the area surrounding the arboretum was. Even right next door was the Martha’s Vineyard Agricultural Society who is hosting their 162nd fair this year. And, a restaurant down the road was named 7a for the USDA hardiness zone. It was quintessential New England.

The arboretum also imbued this agrarian sense of place. Polly Hill Arboretum had two large open spaces, north field and west field, where grasses and forbs are mown in spring late enough to allow creatures to overwinter in the duff. She commented that the meadows were “the real New England scene.” Even though she loved planting as many trees and shrubs as she could, the meadows were off limits for planting. She joked about anyone ever planting the meadows. “And, if they try to do that after I’m gone, I will haunt them!”

A curved path through the north field beckons exploration.

The path through the West Field leads back to other woody collections.  

I loved how they allowed the space around fences to grow up a bit to soften the edges and provide habitat for creatures.  

I have long enjoyed fence rows for their potential to be refugia for species, and at Polly Hill Arboretum they artfully allow their fences to get a little wild.  

A line of Nyssa sylvatica (beetlebung) punctuates the stone wall behind.

This beautiful fireplace adds to the New England charm.  

LEARNING ABOUT THE VINEYARD’S FLORA

I was impressed by Polly Hill Arboretum’s efforts to collect and preserve information. I learned from Tim this practice was original to Polly.

Tim shared with me that the way the arboretum was protected in entirety was thanks to David Smith, a scientist who developed a vaccine for spinal meningitis. With his wealth he wished to protect and conserve natural areas on Martha’s Vineyard. He had already saved the beautiful Moshup Trail on the Aquinnah Cliffs from development and was looking for another location on the vineyard to conserve. David visited the arboretum but wasn’t enthused about supporting a garden. But, then he met with Polly. In their conversation, his interest was piqued when she shared that she had records of every plant and tree planted dating back 39 years to 1957. He didn’t see her as a gardener any more but as a scientist, just like he was. The rest is history.

To me that shows the power of keeping records in gardening. We are so busy, but you never know. Maybe one day someone will come look at your detailed gardening journal and endow your property!

They have expanded their efforts of data collection to create a Flora of Dukes County that contains 1,377 taxa. Tim showed me through their herbarium collection in its climate controlled room and where they dry, press, and catalog their specimens.

Another striking thing about the arboretum was their work to preserve their history. They had every correspondence that Polly had ever sent. Tim quipped that somewhere in the collection was even a letter he wrote to her.

At Polly Hill Arboretum, their education center features places for learning and research on the island flora.  

Polly Hill Arboretum is continually working on a flora for Martha's Vineyard.  They had this really cool collection of algae.  

They also have this beautiful needlepointed pillow that Polly completed just before she passed away of the ‘Julian Hill’ magnolia.

In the education center, I spied pinned to the wall Karen's design she did for Polly Hill Arboretum wildtype kits.  

Polly’s Play pEn

Garden comes from the Old English word geard meaning fence.  There has long been this concept of a garden being something separate from the wilds of the world, and sometimes we as gardeners need protected space to grow and enjoy plants.

Polly had a space called Polly’s Play Pen where treasured plants grew that would have long been eaten by deer.  Tim took me through this space talking about some of them.  One of my favorites was Shortia galacifolia (Oconee bells), a somewhat rare native perennial to the southeast US.  It’s has a famed story where Asa Gray looked for it for almost 40 years before a teenager found it and shared it with a botanist. 

Inside we also spied Rhododendron nakaharae ‘Mt. Seven Star‘. Tim shared the story of how Polly got this plant. Polly had grown this species before, but she wanted plants collected from the wild as the provenance was important scientifically. One of her neighbors Ann Fielder was going to Taiwan, and she gave her $10 to go find someone at the university who could help them find the plant. A gentleman said the Rhododendron grew on Mt. Seven Star. They couldn’t find it but stopped for a picnic on the mountain. One of the Ann’s grandchildren was playing and fell right into the shrub. The cuttings died, but Polly was later sent seed from the same man who had helped them find the original location on Mt. Seven Star. One lived, and she named it after its finding place. From that plant originated the North Tisbury hybrids. That plant is still protected and growing in Polly’s Play Pen.

Polly's Play Pen is a fortress for plants that Polly tried, and today it still serves to protect many unique species.  

Tim admires a large Enkianthus campanulatus (Redvein enkianthus) in Polly's Play Pen.  It is a lovely woody with urn-shaped flowers and red fall color.  

One of my favorite plants from Polly's Play Pen was Shortia galacifolia (Oconee bells).  This encounter was only my second time seeing this wonderful native.  It has a famed story of Asa Gray looking for this southeast native for almost 40 years before it's rediscovery. 

The famed low-growing Rhododendron nakaharae ‘Mt. Seven Star‘.

WILD COLLECTING

Tim and team continue their mission of searching out unique flora. They have made multiple collecting trips to places like the Ozarks in Arkansas and the panhandle of flora. Tim said that the arboretum’s focus is native plants to the eastern US and southeast Asia. And, they are keeping the spirit of Polly alive with these expeditions of continually searching for plants to try to grow on the vineyard.

One of the shade huts at Polly Hill Arboretum features wild collected plants and species propagated from the arboretum.  Note how clean everything is.  They also track every plant that comes in and leaves the nursery.  

I can't write a post about Polly Hill Arboretum without mentioning Stewartia, one of Tim's favorite genera.  Here is a nice upright form of Stewartia malacodendron (silky camellia) from the southeast US.  I commented how in Texas they are much shrubbier.  

The visitor center at Polly Hill Arboretum features a group of Amsonia hubrichtii (Arkansas bluestar) collected in the wild in Arkansas.  

Polly Hill Arboretum also sells plants that do well on Martha's Vineyard including some from wild collections.  

It’s funny.  Now that I’ve left, I’ve had conversations with friends about Polly Hill Arboretum, and the word magical continues to be used. I wholeheartedly agree, and I can’t wait to return to see what other lessons can be learned from this enchanting place.