The summer solstice has arrived, which means it’s time for American basketflower (Plectocephalus americanus, or previously Centaurea americana) to bloom. Every year, it starts flowering just as the days reach their longest.
There’s a large patch near our house where the blooms count in the thousands. On first glance years ago, I shrugged them off driving into town thinking they were one of the non-native thistles taking over the roadsides. But, finally their beauty won me over to investigate. What I found was one of our most showy native annuals, and now each year, I make a stop when they are in full bloom.
Sometimes I look at a basketflower, and it feels like I’m looking at a dahlia or chrysanthemum.
I haven’t been the only one confused by these aster family relatives. Linnaeus once put many Centaurea together into one genus. Sunflower expert Henri Cassini recognized this issue, writing in 1817, “Linnaeus has united, under this name, in a single genus, a multitude of species that indeed have many characters in common, but which should of necessity be distributed amongst several genera, if only to make it easier and more convenient to study. […] Linnaeus certainly assigned his centaureas to many sections, but this was not sufficient to prevent the confusion that resulted, especially as he used the same generic name for too many species.” And, when a single Centaurea genus was found to have eight different pollen morphologies in the 1950’s, the genera split began.
It’s quite amazing to stand amongst so many American basketflowers in bloom and in bud.
Now, we know Centaurea americana as Plectocephalus americanus, plecto- meaning to twist and -cephalus referring to head. My assumption is that this wordsmithing is a reference to the head inflorescence’s phyllaries, the prickly-looking bracts that give the plant its common name basketflower since the involucre appears to have a woven appearance.
Ray florets emerge from the involucre “basket.”
Even in their fade, American basketflowers are lovely to behold.
The lavender flowers are dazzling and pompous in appearance, like having an exploded firework frozen in time. Like most head inflorescences, the outer ray florets are quite showy helping to attract pollinators toward the fertile disks in the center. And, on breezy days the heads bob in the breeze carrying the sweet, honey-like scent; though, the fragrance is more intense when I stick my nose in the center and get dusted with the off-white pollen.
A carpenter bee dances around the disk of American basketflower. You may notice a bit of off-white pollen on its legs.
The flowers are open in the morning, but most will close by the afternoon. However, blooms make decent cuts lasting almost a week, and when removed from the plant, the flower remains open for longer.
I have the goal of welcoming this plant into my garden using local germplasm. And, each year, I keep meaning to stop and collect some seed, but often the road maintenance mower blades get them before they have a chance to finish producing their sunflower-shaped fruits called cypselae (or singular cypsela). Its a shame they are cut too soon, even beyond my own selfish desires. Bobwhite Quail and other songbirds love the seeds.
Somehow there are enough to return year after year in these roadside patches so that even if I didn’t look at the calendar I would know when the sun was about to start its trek back south.
Hundreds of basketflowers were in bloom with thousands more to come.
After taking photos for this post and returning home, I hadn’t started sweating through my shirt good when I heard the roar of the mower blades. I knew where they were headed, right to the patch of American basketflowers I had just left hours ago. And, what are the odds that the day I go enjoy their flowers is their death knell.
I didn’t spot any open blooms remaining the next morning amongst the thrashed debris, but later that afternoon I spotted one solitary basketflower by the fence. A survivor. When I pulled off I found two more that had escaped the mower’s blade. I noted their spots for seed collection in about a month.
From years past when the mowers have come early, I have learned they will return from the seed bank in the soil. But, it’s so sad to see something I love and hold dear mowed down to fulfill a contract. But, that’s the power of bringing these plants into our gardens. So that when the sun is high in the sky and the mowers come, I’ll still have a patch to enjoy as we welcome the arrival of summer.
A lone basketflower survives against the fencerow where the mower blades couldn’t get to close.