Say Hi to Hymenopappus artemisiifolius

Spring is a ripe time to enjoy self sowers and volunteers like Papaver, Nigella, Centaurea, Consolida, and more.   I believe Hymenopappus artimissifolius belongs in with that bunch.  It’s a mouthful to say for such a lovely ruderal.  Old plainsman is the common name—so wise sounding for such a short lived plant.  

After we bought our house, I noticed this tall white flower on the roadsides near our house and wondered what delightful plant it was.  From a distance in bud it looks a bit like ping pong balls on a gray-green stick.  But, upon closer inspection you find a flower that resembles Astrantia.  There’s even hints of pink in it.  They are from two different families as Astrantia is Apiaceae, and Hymenopappus is Asteraceae.

I’m happy I live an an area where it occurs. This native’s range is limited to three states—Texas, Louisiana, and the southwest corner of Arksansas. But, it deserves wider use. Since it’s a biennial, my only concern is the hardiness of the basal rosettes. I have seen some germinate in late winter. Perhaps this late planting is an option for those who wish to try it further north.

Such lovely Astrantia like flowers. Note the white phyllaries, or modified showy bracts.

Unlike most of the self sowers, the color on old plainsman comes from modified bracts (also called phyllaries) instead of petals or ray florets.  Therefore, the essence of the plant appearing in flower lasts for much longer.  And, its height is much desired early in the season. I believe that both these contenders make the case that it is a great candidate for being a scatter plant in a naturalistic planting.

I haven’t quite figured out the germination requirements for this plant yet.  I scattered what little seed I had last year, and it seems I’ve had better success getting it to grow in our turf than the beds where I want it to reside.  But, once I do, you can be sure that I’ll have tons of it growing in my garden.  

Here’s a photo of the basal rosette of Hymenopappus artemisiifolius. One can barely see the discolor between the green tops and the silvery leaf bottoms.

Sandyland Bluebonnets Blooming

My sandyland bluebonnets (Lupinus subcarnosus) are flowering!  Yippie, the first bluebonnets blooming at our house!  And, what a show they are.

Lupinus subcarnosus flowering at our house.

All four of them.  #sarcasm

I guess something went wrong with their germination?  Last fall, I scarified the seeds with a fingernail clipper since I didn’t have very many and soaked them in water overnight.  I counted about a dozen that germinated, but these few are the only survivors left. Hopefully, they will spawn more next year.  

Eventually, this scene is what I want.  

Last spring, Karen and I ventured out to Chireno, TX to see Peter Loos’s patch of sandyland bluebonnets.  My seeds last fall came from Peter’s population.

When people think of bluebonnets, they usually conjure images like the following of Lupinus texensis. 

A swath of Lupinus texensis blooms alongside a Texas Hill County highway.

However, Lupinus subcarnosus is lesser known and native to east Texas and Louisiana.  Lupinus texensis has a broader distribution west.  You can easily identify the two.  Lupinus texensis has a tuft of white at the top, which earned it the name el conejo or the rabbit from the Spanish settlers who saw it.  This tuft is absent on Lupinus subcarnosus because the flowers are more spaced apart on the apex.  Most people think Lupinus texensis is more showy due to the dense blooms on the raceme.  I find some humor in this preference because it was actually Lupinus subcarnosus that was first adopted as the state wildflower.  Finally, all bluebonnets were lumped under that title in 1971.  

Either way, both flowers remind me of blue Yoshi from the Mario games.  

Blue Yoshi!

Now you can’t unsee blue Yoshi, can you? Note the banner spot color change on the lower flowers.

And, the white spots on the banner petal will change to a reddish-purple color with age on both species. For Lupinus texensis the color change happens around 6 days after opening, which is believed to be a signal for pollinators. Researchers have noted that around 95% of bee visits are while the spot is still white, and the pollen count drops precipitously after 6 days. I assume these pollination dynamics are similar for the closely related Lupinus subcarnosus.

From the looks of it, my four plants have a few purple spots on them indicating I should see seed in a few weeks.  That’s a good start to having more.

Pin the Plant on the Triangle

This semester, one of the classes I’m teaching is herbaceous plants, and I’m taking the class beyond the usual discussions of annuals and perennials.  From studying herbaceous plant communities, one of the most useful concepts that I’ve learned in recent years is the classification of a plant’s survival strategies.  

I’ve written about it before here and here.  As a refresher, Grime pitched that plants had three strategies based on environmental factors.  

• COMPETITORS are plants that take advantages of any and all resources they can muster.  They grow tall and wide to take out the competition.  Usually these stalwarts are perennial in nature, and they grow where stress and disturbance are nil.

• STRESS-TOLERATORS are plants that have adaptations to ensure survival when stress arises and conditions deteriorate.  They are usually perennial and can take many years to flower from seed.

• RUDERALS are short-lived annuals or biennials that are frequently exposed to some type of disturbance, which has selected for plants that quickly produce seed.

Usually, this strategy is visualized using a triangle (much like the soil texture triangle!) where a certain species can be shown to be—pulling some numbers out of the air—say, 70% competitor, 20% ruderal, and 10% stress tolerator based on the characteristics they exhibit.  

A figure of Grime’s triangle from Pierre et al. (2017) titled A global method for calculating plant CSR ecological strategies applied across biomes world-wide. As you can see the authors attempted to classify plants across the globe based on their tendency to be a competitor, stress-tolerator, or ruderal.

How do you take this concept from theory to application for students? Much research and data collection is needed to be able to precisely place a plant on the triangle.  Can it be done in a more simple fashion?  

After we covered the CSR theory in class, I did an activity with students.  I gave small groups (three to four) a list of seven different herbaceous plants and asked them to look up information and pictures online and try to determine where on Grime’s triangle it would fit.  I drew a triangle on the board labeling the sides and gave them markers and half sheets of paper for writing plant names.  

I then challenged them in pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey fashion (no blindfolds or sharp objects though!) to figure out where on the triangle the species would go by searching for it online.  Students looked for tendencies to spread, cover large areas, form large clumps, and/or have rhizomes (COMPETITOR); tendencies to produce copious amounts of seed, occur in areas of disturbance, and/or be short lived (RUDERAL); and tendencies to live in a stressful habitat, take a long time to flower, and/or have storage organs (STRESS-TOLERATOR).

One by one they started coming up and making educated guesses.  I stood by the triangle to offer advice and suggestions.  Some hit the nail on the head while others needed a little bit of coaxing to the right place.  

At the end, we went over the 20 or so species I provided as a challenge.  Again, I explained that while some species neatly fit into one group, some straddle the fence like Liatris elegans.  It has a corm (a stem-derived storage organ indicating some level of stress toleration) yet produces copious amounts of seed (traits of a ruderal).  

Pin the plant on the triangle—a fun game to teach students about plant survival strategies. Based on your plant knowledge, how do you think they did?

As gardeners it’s very helpful to think about flora in this way.  It helps us anticipate how plants will perform.  It explains why Gaillardia and Aquilegia don’t live long as perennials (ruderals), why Mentha and Monarda spread like crazy (competitors), and why Trillium and Narcissus  take 3–7 years to flower from seed (stress-tolerators).   It also allows us to envision how to combine plants.  Maybe put that runaway competitor in a drier spot to keep it from taking over creation?  Or, sow some ruderals in between the stress-tolerators to keep weeds down.  

If students can decide approximately which section of the triangle plants fit in during a 15 minute activity using search engines, then we can by watching how plants grow over the course of a year. 

So, that’s your homework for the season. Draw a triangle and see if you can’t plot where the species in your garden fit.

I Like Showy Evening Primrose

I like showy evening primrose (or, Oenothera speciosa for those of us who are botanically inclined).  I love seeing the cheerful little flowers that dot roadways, and when the petite, pink parasols pop up in the lawn, it brings a smile to my face.  It was actually one of the first wildflowers I ever grew.  I recall buying a pack of seed at the garden center, scattering them in my tiny garden behind our pool, and watching as they quickly came into bloom.  Success in a season.  What gardener doesn't want that?  

But, I didn't realize there was such animosity towards one of my favorite wildflowers until I read Steve Bender's piece "If you value your life and yard, don't plant this."

Such a scary thing, huh?

He writes,

“If you see pink evening primrose ... for sale at your garden center, I have a single word of advice. RUN. Do not buy. Do not plant. Do not say to yourself, “It’s a native plant, so it must be good.” Do not overlook the fact that any wildflower that can conquer acres of farmland can gulp down your garden in a single sitting...”

— Steve Bender

Reading that opinion made me sad.   My biggest qualm with the piece is recommending to thousands of readers to not plant something because it spreads.  He goes on to say, "a pink primrose tsunami swept over my garden the next spring, choking the phlox and drowning the daylilies".  

That's such a boring way to garden!  Plant perennials.  Mulch them in their little cubicles.  Don't let them touch.  Repeat next year.  And, the next.  And, the next.  Ad nauseam.  

I want plants to touch, mingle, grow through each other, and duke it out in the garden.  I want to see ecology in action and for plants to actually live instead of being static chlorophyllic mannequins.  

I'm constantly looking for good groundcovers for southeast mixed plantings, and this native primrose shows such promise for use in mixed plantings.  In Texas, it covers our soil in the winter and reduces erosion, and ours that we grow in the Sprout garden have been blooming now for over three months since March 8th.  Then, come summer it peters out with a reflush of flowers in the fall.  As a bonus for the pollinator groupies out there, research conducted at UT Austin showed honeybees, skippers, and pierid and papilionid butterflies visit the flowers.  

Sure, it's aggressive and seedy as many ruderal species are.  But, in a world covered with mulch, hell strips, and roadsides, I'd rather look at pink flowers.  To tell people to not plant something because it proliferates itself is wrong.  

So, spread the word.  Plants like evening primrose that spread can be a gardener's best friend.  Unless you want to keep mulching...