Fall Foliage in East Texas

While much of the rest of the country has already experienced autumn, fall color usually peaks in the last few weeks of November here in east Texas. We haven’t even had a hard frost yet, though the forecast suggests that is coming Tuesday morning. With the arrival of cooler temperatures and shorter days, plants turn brilliant colors of red, orange, yellow, purple and a myriad of variations between. Our autumn show was pretty strung out over the past few weeks, and below are some of my favorite plants for fall color. You’ll see that many of them are Rhus and Acer with a few other colorful characters that follow. Maybe if you are looking for adding more fall color to your garden, you’ll get some inspiration from the images.

Our native Rhus or sumac species are wonderful plants for fall color. I’ve learned from having Rhus glabra seedings pop up here at the house color is variable; some have barely any color at all. There is a clump of Rhus glabra just up the road in …

Our native Rhus or sumac species are wonderful plants for fall color. I’ve learned from having Rhus glabra seedings pop up here at the house color is variable; some have barely any color at all. There is a clump of Rhus glabra just up the road in Nat that that always has this nice wine color in the fall.

 
Most Rhus glabra will turn a more vibrant red at the end of the season.

Most Rhus glabra will turn a more vibrant red at the end of the season.

 
Another sumac that has spectacular fall color is Rhus copallinum or winged sumac, named for the foliage projections on either side of the leaf’s rachis.

Another sumac that has spectacular fall color is Rhus copallinum or winged sumac, named for the foliage projections on either side of the leaf’s rachis.

And, these newly planted Rhus aromatica plants at my house are putting on their coat of many colors. This species makes a wonderful low groundcover, though other selections of the species can get taller.

And, these newly planted Rhus aromatica plants at my house are putting on their coat of many colors. This species makes a wonderful low groundcover, though other selections of the species can get taller.

Maples are another genus where one can find a diversity of species offering fall color. Wild Acer rubrum can be hit or miss. This fencerow find glowed bright enough to warrant a stop for some photographs. Don’t you just love those licorice red pe…

Maples are another genus where one can find a diversity of species offering fall color. Wild Acer rubrum can be hit or miss. This fencerow find glowed bright enough to warrant a stop for some photographs. Don’t you just love those licorice red petioles?

Karen is starry-eyed over this beautiful red maple!

Karen is starry-eyed over this beautiful red maple!

A maple that I’ve learned about since moving to Texas is Acer leucoderme, the chalk maple. It is praised for having some of the best fall color of a maple in the east Texas region.

A maple that I’ve learned about since moving to Texas is Acer leucoderme, the chalk maple. It is praised for having some of the best fall color of a maple in the east Texas region.

A close up of the leaves of Acer leucoderme. They tend to be a bit smaller than the typical red maple and sugar maple leaves, but they still have incredible fall foliage.

A close up of the leaves of Acer leucoderme. They tend to be a bit smaller than the typical red maple and sugar maple leaves, but they still have incredible fall foliage.

I have fallen in love with the brilliant yellows of Acer floridanum, our southern sugar maple. We have a forest right across the road where the understory is peppered with these trees that glow in the darkened shade of pines and oaks.

I have fallen in love with the brilliant yellows of Acer floridanum, our southern sugar maple. We have a forest right across the road where the understory is peppered with these trees that glow in the darkened shade of pines and oaks.

I see many Acer floridanum hugging the forest edge of roadsides.

I see many Acer floridanum hugging the forest edge of roadsides.

A decent Acer floridanum leaf on blacktop for some relief.

A decent Acer floridanum leaf on blacktop for some relief.

I’ve long thought that one of the under appreciated traits of Vaccinium is the fall foliage. Even here in Texas, blueberry cultivars like ‘Gulf Coast’ can turn a brilliant red.

I’ve long thought that one of the under appreciated traits of Vaccinium is the fall foliage. Even here in Texas, blueberry cultivars like ‘Gulf Coast’ can turn a brilliant red.

Taxodium distichum turn a beautiful bronzy orange at the end of the season. We have one at our house, and I was pleasantly surprised to see the fallen leaves contrasting with these Carex glaucodea.

Taxodium distichum turn a beautiful bronzy orange at the end of the season. We have one at our house, and I was pleasantly surprised to see the fallen leaves contrasting with these Carex glaucodea.

I have enjoyed seeing our Magnolia macrophylla var. ashei glow in the mornings against the rising sun. Even from a distance outside our bedroom window, you can’t miss its giant leaves changing color. But, the best part is…

I have enjoyed seeing our Magnolia macrophylla var. ashei glow in the mornings against the rising sun. Even from a distance outside our bedroom window, you can’t miss its giant leaves changing color. But, the best part is…

 
… the silvery undersides of the leaves! Such a spectacular silver, it’s almost ghostly.

… the silvery undersides of the leaves! Such a spectacular silver, it’s almost ghostly.

 
Parrotia persica also beams in the fall. I delight each autumn that these behind the agriculture building at SFA color up.

Parrotia persica also beams in the fall. I delight each autumn that these behind the agriculture building at SFA color up.

 
Interestingly, this stand tends to be more yellow as I’ve seen other Parrotia that have more reds and purples in the leaves. Could be genetics or the environment.

Interestingly, this stand tends to be more yellow as I’ve seen other Parrotia that have more reds and purples in the leaves. Could be genetics or the environment.

 
 
Another woody that has good fall color is Hibiscus hamabo. It’s buttery yellow flowers in the summer are followed by golden yellow leaves in mid-autumn.

Another woody that has good fall color is Hibiscus hamabo. It’s buttery yellow flowers in the summer are followed by golden yellow leaves in mid-autumn.

 
And, you would never guess Asparagus officinalis could color up such a brilliant yellow. Here we see it in the Sprout garden mixed in with other perennials.

And, you would never guess Asparagus officinalis could color up such a brilliant yellow. Here we see it in the Sprout garden mixed in with other perennials.

 
And, I saved one of my favorites for last. The other day right down the road from my house, I discovered a black-leaved Liquidambar styraciflua. I know that sweet gums get a bad rap for their troublesome fruit, but check out these amazing leaves t…

And, I saved one of my favorites for last. The other day right down the road from my house, I discovered a black-leaved Liquidambar styraciflua. I know that sweet gums get a bad rap for their troublesome fruit, but check out these amazing leaves that follow!

 
WHOA! I’ve seen dark-colored leaf forms before, but to have a jet black Liquidambar styraciflua so close warrants propagation attempts.

WHOA! I’ve seen dark-colored leaf forms before, but to have a jet black Liquidambar styraciflua so close warrants propagation attempts.

Wow, wow, wow!

Wow, wow, wow!

And, since you’ve made it this far, I’ll share a little fall foliage knowledge with you. Notice how the one tip is still green. Anthocyanins, which give trees their red and purple colors in autumn, form new in the fall as the leaves prepare to sen…

And, since you’ve made it this far, I’ll share a little fall foliage knowledge with you. Notice how the one tip is still green. Anthocyanins, which give trees their red and purple colors in autumn, form new in the fall as the leaves prepare to senesce and fall off the tree. These compounds act as sunscreen, help stabilize the metabolic processes, and also discourage herbivory from insects. This one tip was hidden under the leaf until I pulled it to the top. It’s a good illustration that some leaves have to experience sunlight to cause that color shift.

Thanksgiving Snowdrops

Thanksgiving makes me think of snowdrops because the weekend after the holiday my friends and I would travel to Hillsborough, NC to see one of the rare forms of Galanthus at Montrose, a historic garden tended by Nancy Godwin.  While most snowdrops typically start flowering later in winter, these autumn snowdrops (Galanthus elwesii var. monostictus) can be in full flower sometime around Thanksgiving, a full month or two earlier than other Galanthus. 

Closeup of autumn snowdrops. I love how the petals of the inner perianth have the green upside down heart on them.

Closeup of autumn snowdrops. I love how the petals of the inner perianth have the green upside down heart on them.

My friends Alice, Keith, and Kim traveled with me on my last trek to see snowdrops while living in Raleigh in 2013.  The weather that Sunday afternoon was lovely.  Nancy described the mid-fifties with a sunny, bluebird sky as a “miracle,” and with it and good conditions over the past few weeks, the snowdrops were looking superb.  

Nancy stops our group briefly at Montrose to give us a teaser of the tour.

Nancy stops our group briefly at Montrose to give us a teaser of the tour.

We were some of the earliest of the sixty or so visitors to descend on the garden for the snowdrop walk, and our prompt arrival ensured us Nancy as our head guide.

As we approach the back of the garden, excitement began to build as THOUSANDS of snowdrops come into view.

GASP!  It almost looks like a dusting of snow in places, doesn’t it?

GASP!  It almost looks like a dusting of snow in places, doesn’t it?

While Galanthus can be appreciated while standing, the diminutive size of snowdrops beckons gardeners to humble themselves upon the earth to appreciate their beauty, much like we see Kim doing here with her camera.  

While Galanthus can be appreciated while standing, the diminutive size of snowdrops beckons gardeners to humble themselves upon the earth to appreciate their beauty, much like we see Kim doing here with her camera.  

Nancy was keen to lead us along the path to highlight her favorite views, which finally crescendoed into us seeing the plants with the sunlight to our backs and the snowdrops in our front, a perfect angle for the light to play off the flowers well.  She tells us that in 1987 she acquired 12 bulbs from a local seed store for less than a dollar, and by happenstance they were this rare variety.  She started the mass planting seen above in November 2002 and has helped it enlarge via division.  She made the comment that she’s glad she bought the bulbs.  We are, too. 

The snowdrops don’t stop here. We are then lead through the woods where a large, long drift—perhaps a 1/10 of a mile long—has been planted, and along the path Nancy points out a few Cyclamen coum that have just started flowering.  However, most need not be in bloom to be attractive as the leaves on some cyclamen appear as if ornately arrayed shields of green, gray, and white.

 
The long drift pulls you into the woods to see just how far it goes.

The long drift pulls you into the woods to see just how far it goes.

 
Some of the diversity in Cyclamen foliage along the path through the woods.  The leaves look like little shields scattered upon the forest floor.

Some of the diversity in Cyclamen foliage along the path through the woods.  The leaves look like little shields scattered upon the forest floor.

For me, snowdrops mark a turning point in the year, evidence that even though winter is here, spring approaches.  Many gardeners are fascinated by these winter bloomers to the point of obsession.  I’m not there yet, but I hold with Christopher Lloyd as he wrote in Garden Flowers, “We all of us need more snowdrops in our gardens”, and “[s]nowdrops are graceful, welcoming, sheer delight, and I fail to see how one could have too many of them.” If you’ve never seen them before, the pictures included here will certainly help.  When visuals are absent, I describe the plants as diminutive street lights, the white perianth dangling from six-inch scapes, much like a lantern might have hung from posts in days of old.

Galanthus flowers hang like lanterns on hooks. While they produce no foot candles, they certainly brighten winter.

Galanthus flowers hang like lanterns on hooks. While they produce no foot candles, they certainly brighten winter.

The lantern comment brings to mind a story I once heard in a sermon.  Robert Louis Stevenson as a child was sickly.  One evening, the nurse came to check on him and found him sitting near the window watching the lamplighter.  The nurse hastened him to get back in bed, but he was mesmerized by the lamplighter who he said was “poking holes in the darkness.” For me that’s what snowdrops do.  They poke holes in the darkness of winter, and having some that bloom early like these autumn snowdrops and some that bloom late can make sure that all of winter is a little brighter in our gardens.

Notes from the Patch, November 2020

Just outside our garage—maybe 100 steps to the north—is a garden that we call the patch. It is surrounded by a double fence, mainly to keep out deer, boar, armadillos, and rabbits. This area is hard to just call it a vegetable garden because so much grows inside. Because of its security, I have planted many plants inside, and the patch houses a variety of perennials, cut flowers, carnivorous plants, and propagules. However, the back part is planted mostly with vegetables. I have to admit in the three years that we’ve lived here, this year is the best it has looked and the most productive it has been. I think it’s because the garden is finally settling into its own. I’ve had to take the design through a few iterations, mainly due to some rare flooding that can occur to make sure that the edibles are located out of the inundation zone. But, we are in the final layout where from here on out the bones should all be laid for the pathways and the beds.

Also, I have an organic matter system from collecting leaves on our 2.5 acres as well as bags of leaves sent to the curb in town. (Don’t worry. I always leave some leaves in our yard for my insect friends!) All of that organic matter is funneled to this garden.

But, another reason it looks good is because November is a time my fall vegetable garden reaches its zenith from the little warmth left of summer and the absence of a hard frost yet from winter. We have been delighted from all the produce we’ve harvested so far this winter from it.

I spoke to a group of gardeners with the Huntsville Botanical Garden earlier this week via a webinar about the joys of cool-season gardening, and I took a plethora of pictures of the patch for that presentation. I wanted to share a few of these photos with you so maybe I could even whet your appetite for gardening on the darker side of the calendar.

The front of the vegetable garden in the patch. To the right is the swale, a three-foot wide depression I had to dig to help direct water through the property. It hasn’t really been landscaped much yet beyond the few perennials I’ve stuck there fo…

The front of the vegetable garden in the patch. To the right is the swale, a three-foot wide depression I had to dig to help direct water through the property. It hasn’t really been landscaped much yet beyond the few perennials I’ve stuck there for holding.

A photo from the other side looking toward the neighbors.

A photo from the other side looking toward the neighbors.

I had a challenging time getting peas going. They just collapsed from a fungal disease early on. A later sowing of' ‘Sugar Snap’ didn’t die and now are blooming.

I had a challenging time getting peas going. They just collapsed from a fungal disease early on. A later sowing of' ‘Sugar Snap’ didn’t die and now are blooming.

Early issues with peas forced me to buy some additional varieties. Here you see the disease resistant ‘PLS 595’ at the front and ‘PLS 141’ at the back. The broccoli also looks good with a mulch of leaf mold.

Early issues with peas forced me to buy some additional varieties. Here you see the disease resistant ‘PLS 595’ at the front and ‘PLS 141’ at the back. The broccoli also looks good with a mulch of leaf mold.

A close up of ‘PLS 595’. Even the tendrils are edible!

A close up of ‘PLS 595’. Even the tendrils are edible!

A much better crop of peas from ‘PLS 595’

A much better crop of peas from ‘PLS 595’

Watching videos of Conor Crickmore of Neversink Farm inspired me to try this new approach to trellising peas. PVC T-joints help to support electrical conduit holding nylon twine.

Watching videos of Conor Crickmore of Neversink Farm inspired me to try this new approach to trellising peas. PVC T-joints help to support electrical conduit holding nylon twine.

One of Karen’s favorites is Swiss chard (and mine, too!). She enjoys it even better than lettuce in salads! Here the rainbow colors from the ‘Bright Lights’ mix glows warm in the morning.

One of Karen’s favorites is Swiss chard (and mine, too!). She enjoys it even better than lettuce in salads! Here the rainbow colors from the ‘Bright Lights’ mix glows warm in the morning.

The always beautiful ‘Ruby King’ cabbage

The always beautiful ‘Ruby King’ cabbage

Carrots, spinach, and kohlrabi are coming right along. I will continue sowing spinach and carrots into January.

Carrots, spinach, and kohlrabi are coming right along. I will continue sowing spinach and carrots into January.

And, collards have been fun to pick. I love sautéing them with bacon grease, a little brown sugar, and garlic.

And, collards have been fun to pick. I love sautéing them with bacon grease, a little brown sugar, and garlic.

 
One of my favorite kales! Every time I see ‘Dazzling Blue’ I want to throw up jazz hands. *Jazz hands*

One of my favorite kales! Every time I see ‘Dazzling Blue’ I want to throw up jazz hands. *Jazz hands*

 
And, there are other plants in the patch like this Cuphea micropetala. The warm-colored petals and blues in the broccoli foliage behind are a nice contrast.

And, there are other plants in the patch like this Cuphea micropetala. The warm-colored petals and blues in the broccoli foliage behind are a nice contrast.

Plants Before Breakfast

I was teaching my nursery management students about marketing recently and how important it is to communicate the value and wonder of plants. I used to be of the mindset that plants are amazing and should be able to sell themselves. But, I read a fascinating article a few years ago that changed my mind that I shared with the class.

Titled "Pearls Before Breakfast" and authored by Gene Weingarten and a handful of Washington Post writers, it was about a mini-experiment that consisted of three parts.

  1. Joshua Bell, one of the top violin performers of our time who gets paid over $1000 per hour.

  2. A Stradivari violin that cost over $3 million. In fact, the article even kidded that Joshua took a cab a couple of blocks just because he was scared something would happen to it.

  3. A large audience, over a thousand people in DC rush hour metro.

Their thesis, “in a banal setting at an inconvenient time, would beauty transcend?” They would evaluate it by observing how many people would stop and how much would he make during this 45 minute performance. Such a performance by a famous musician with a priceless violin in front of such a large audience would likely be worth thousands and thousands of dollars.

Feel free to ponder, and scroll down for the answer.

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$32.17. Thirty-two dollars and seventeen cents. In fact, $20 came from a lady who actually recognized him. In that time period he had 27 people stop and watch.

So, here you have one of the world’s most famous musicians playing a solo concert with a $3.5 million dollar violin to 1097 people. How was this lost on all those people? Joshua even commented, “I’m surprised at the number of people who don’t pay attention at all, as if I’m invisible. Because, you know what? I’m makin’ a lot of noise!”

Now, as a scientist I realize this case is an n = 1 situation. Perhaps they should have repeated it multiple days. But, I still think we can learn from this scenario.

Why didn’t people stop to appreciate this art?

  • Maybe people were in a rush to get to work and don’t have time.

  • Maybe people ignored the performer, conditioned from hearing other performers over the years.

  • Maybe the context was wrong for the place and the music.

  • Maybe people lacked the knowledge of how valuable this performance was.

  • Maybe people didn’t know the whole story.

So, what does this all have to do with plants? There’s this phenomenon called plant blindness where people are not immediately aware of plants in their environment. They pass them by without noticing, even though plants maybe benefiting them even though the people don’t realize it. Why don’t people see plants?

  • Maybe people are in a rush and don’t have time.

  • Maybe people are conditioned from seeing plants over the years.

  • Maybe the context is wrong for the place and the plants.

  • Maybe people lack the knowledge of how valuable these plants are.

  • Maybe people don’t know the whole story.

Now, perhaps there are evolutionary benefits to that blindness such as we learn to filter out things are are not friend or foe or food. But, we horticulturists have realized that plant blindness may explain why so many people don’t appreciate our work or the value of plants.

The take away from this article for me is that we can’t just stick plants out there and expect people to stop and appreciate them. It takes more.

While the article states there were two groups of people, those who stopped and those who didn’t, I’d argue that there is a third—a group of people who if they knew what was going on they would have paused at the marvel of it all.

We don’t need to try to get everyone to stop and appreciate plants. Just a few more. Perhaps through us being plant evangelists, by sharing how wonderful these photosynthetic creatures are in terms people can understand, and by sharing the incredible story of plants, we can remove the blinders and help people see.

Autumn at Montrose

One of the highlights while living in North Carolina was visiting Montrose in October, a garden tucked away in Hillsborough, NC. I loved visiting this time of year because the garden expanded my knowledge of plants that celebrated fall with their foliage and flowers.

Nancy and her husband Craufurd bought Montrose in 1977 to live there and enrich the gardens. The property had bones; it dated back to the 1800s when it Governor William Alexander Graham lived on the site and had his law office there. Now, Montrose is know for its unique collection of plants that provide four-season interest. Nancy is also well-known in the world of horticulture from her running Montrose Nursery from 1984 to 1993. I recall even seeing her name pop up in books occasionally as a renown expert on Cyclamen and other interesting perennials.

If you’d like to learn more about the garden, you can live a year in Nancy’s shoes by reading her book Montrose: Life in a Garden. It was one of my favorite reads during the evenings of graduate school. I loved the day-to-day garden life that she shared. But, for now, enjoy these photos and a few perspectives from an autumn visit to Montrose.

Celosia rises from a hodgepodge of perennials in this border near the May garden. The garden is set around numerous historical buildings. The law office can be seen in the distance and dates back to the 1800s.

Celosia rises from a hodgepodge of perennials in this border near the May garden. The garden is set around numerous historical buildings. The law office can be seen in the distance and dates back to the 1800s.

Verbascum chaixii ‘Album’ liked to grow near the gravel pathways.

Verbascum chaixii ‘Album’ liked to grow near the gravel pathways.

One of my first encounters with a fall favorite—Cuphea micropetala or candy corn cuphea.

One of my first encounters with a fall favorite—Cuphea micropetala or candy corn cuphea.

Another cute cuphea I saw was Cuphea cyanea. The flowers are small but there are plenty of them for effect. If you look closely, you might see the bat face in the flowers.

Another cute cuphea I saw was Cuphea cyanea. The flowers are small but there are plenty of them for effect. If you look closely, you might see the bat face in the flowers.

Nancy tries to time her open house weekends during the peak of autumn splendor. I hit it just right this visit to see Colchicum ‘Waterlily’ in flower.

Nancy tries to time her open house weekends during the peak of autumn splendor. I hit it just right this visit to see Colchicum ‘Waterlily’ in flower.

A nice massing of Sternbergia lutea brightened this shady spot. It is such a quaint autumn geophyte.

A nice massing of Sternbergia lutea brightened this shady spot. It is such a quaint autumn geophyte.

My first encounter with Centratherum punctatum was at Montrose. Since moving to Texas I have discovered what a wonderful heat-tolerant self sower this plant is.

My first encounter with Centratherum punctatum was at Montrose. Since moving to Texas I have discovered what a wonderful heat-tolerant self sower this plant is.

Dahlia coccinea erupts with vermillion flowers come October at Montrose.

Dahlia coccinea erupts with vermillion flowers come October at Montrose.

A close up of Dahlia coccinea.

A close up of Dahlia coccinea.

Cosmos sulphureus forms a wall of foliage and flowers that other plants can pop against.

Cosmos sulphureus forms a wall of foliage and flowers that other plants can pop against.

I love to use this image and the next to teach students about how a person’s orientation to the plants and sun can affect color and intensity. Here, Helianthus angustifolius glows bright with the sun to my back.

I love to use this image and the next to teach students about how a person’s orientation to the plants and sun can affect color and intensity. Here, Helianthus angustifolius glows bright with the sun to my back.

But, from this angle where I face both sun and plants, we now see more shadows, which creates more of a shade of yellow in the flowers.

But, from this angle where I face both sun and plants, we now see more shadows, which creates more of a shade of yellow in the flowers.

Stepping into the tropical garden, you can see that color is not the only driver here. Texture also creates a richness.

Stepping into the tropical garden, you can see that color is not the only driver here. Texture also creates a richness.

One of my favorite sights from Montrose was this old sugar kettle planted with hardy Orostachys. In their bloom they looked like flames licking out of a cauldron.

One of my favorite sights from Montrose was this old sugar kettle planted with hardy Orostachys. In their bloom they looked like flames licking out of a cauldron.

Nancy had a knack for creating simple yet effective plant combinations. I loved seeing this Tradescantia pallida ‘Purple Heart’ planted with this Symphyotrichum.

Nancy had a knack for creating simple yet effective plant combinations. I loved seeing this Tradescantia pallida ‘Purple Heart’ planted with this Symphyotrichum.

Another great color combination was this pairing of white Colchicum with this matrix of Ophiopogon planiscapus ‘Nigrescens’.

Another great color combination was this pairing of white Colchicum with this matrix of Ophiopogon planiscapus ‘Nigrescens’.

Muhly by Morning, Muhly by Day

Autumn is a time of swift change in the garden as plants scurry to have their last hoorah before frost, and it is beautiful watching them play with varying environmental factors.  While much of these shifts occur over days or weeks, sometimes only a few hours can make the difference. 

A few years ago I witnessed such change at Chanticleer with Muhlenbergia capillaris on a crisp autumn morning in October. I was back again in the Philadelphia area speaking to a crowd of 600 at the Perennial Plant Conference. Seeing the garden again was a nice comparison because I had just been there that summer for my guest gardening experience (Day 1, Day 2, and Day 3). I was most excited to see the elevated walkway and how it had developed through the season. This part of the garden was where I headed first.

The elevated walkway has a westward facing slope where even if the sun has been up for an hour or two, parts of it can still be shrouded in shadow.  When I approached the overlook, the muhly left me breathless. 

Wow.

Wow.

The panicles having soaked up the dew from the night now refracted light leaving little pink to be seen.  It was like a fog and reminded me of the milky clouds in the valleys that I've seen so many times driving the Blue Ridge Parkway further south.  And, having other plants like Eryngium yuccifolium and Kniphofia ‘Wet Dream’ emerging through the haze of plumes like otherworldly skyscrapers piercing stratus was a brilliant juxtaposition of plant heights and textures. 

This photograph I took that morning is one of my favorites of all time. It is three main characters with a few supporting cast, and it shows how such simple textures can create a spectacular view in a garden.

This photograph I took that morning is one of my favorites of all time. It is three main characters with a few supporting cast, and it shows how such simple textures can create a spectacular view in a garden.

I've admired Muhlenbergia capillaris for many years, but this planting was the icing on the cake. I have no memory of seeing muhly grass when I was there earlier that summer. It is no surprise, though. Most of the growing season the plant is lost in the haze of chlorophyll.  But, when it comes into flower, its mist of cotton candy pink becomes a beacon in the landscape and leads every eye towards it. It goes from nobody to a celebrity overnight, and now, everyone wants it.

But, just like fog, the effect burned off later in the day.  I returned close to lunch to find the whole look had changed, and now I saw a totally different planting.  The rose-colored muhly I've known for so long was back after the dew vanished.  The sun was harsher now, and the towering plants blended into the landscape.  

Such experiences remind me that we need to visit our gardens at all times of day during this darkening season. We never know what nature hath wrought for us nor how long these special moments will last.

The same shot but only a few hours later.

The same shot but only a few hours later.

Many of you emailed from my previous posts on Chanticleer about how you enjoyed the photos. Here are some more images from that trip for your viewing pleasure. 

The teacup garden in its autumn exuberance.

The teacup garden in its autumn exuberance.

Dew glistens on the ovate leaves of Euphorbia cotinifolia

Dew glistens on the ovate leaves of Euphorbia cotinifolia

Such a great cool color theme woven with Symphyotrichum, Plectranthus, Stachys, and Nicotiana.

Such a great cool color theme woven with Symphyotrichum, Plectranthus, Stachys, and Nicotiana.

Another part of the garden was warmed by the rising sun basking on red foliage and flowers. What a wonderful effect to echo the colors of summer Ensete in the fall foliage of an Acer palmatum.

Another part of the garden was warmed by the rising sun basking on red foliage and flowers. What a wonderful effect to echo the colors of summer Ensete in the fall foliage of an Acer palmatum.

The flowery lawn was at its height of color for the year.

The flowery lawn was at its height of color for the year.

Light shimmers through the emergent Verbena bonariensis in the flowery lawn.

Light shimmers through the emergent Verbena bonariensis in the flowery lawn.

Muhly grass acts a foil for Kniphofia ‘Wet Dream’…

Muhly grass acts a foil for Kniphofia ‘Wet Dream’…

…and as a web for the occasional Ascelpias seed.

…and as a web for the occasional Ascelpias seed.

Echinacea seedheads punctuate the gravel garden.

Echinacea seedheads punctuate the gravel garden.

Liatris elegans erupts out of the gravel garden at Chanticleer.

Liatris elegans erupts out of the gravel garden at Chanticleer.

Another view of muhly, this time on the rock ledge down from the gravel garden. Joe Henderson said he used more here to connect this planting with the elevated walkway and make the garden feel more cohesive.

Another view of muhly, this time on the rock ledge down from the gravel garden. Joe Henderson said he used more here to connect this planting with the elevated walkway and make the garden feel more cohesive.

Even in their fade, the Colchicum in the bulb meadow look good.

Even in their fade, the Colchicum in the bulb meadow look good.

Another shot of the fallen Colchicum.

Another shot of the fallen Colchicum.

The Sporobolus meadow in its fall color

The Sporobolus meadow in its fall color

The old iteration of the cut flower garden looked spectacular during my visit.

The old iteration of the cut flower garden looked spectacular during my visit.

 
Aster tataricus glows against the autumn sun.

Aster tataricus glows against the autumn sun.

 

Rayless Sunflower

It has been a glorious weekend here in east Texas. For the first time in months our temperature dipped below 70F yesterday, and then Sunday morning, the thermometer registered 59F. I adore days like these where a chill hangs in the air.

The return of fall and the arrival of cooler temperatures and rain revitalizes the garden. After months of watching plants struggle, it is so nice to see them perking up and many fall performers beginning their show. One species that is becoming a favorite of mine for autumn is rayless sunflower.

I first saw it on Instagram a few years ago when Andrea England posted a picture of it in a shortgrass prairie in her suburban meadow. At first, I thought I was seeing just spent flowers and seedheads. However, after some sleuthing I realized that this photo was the rayless sunflower in bloom with its black licorice colored disks held on acid green stems. With a brief review of flower morphology, you can see where rayless sunflower gets its name. Many Asteraceae family members have a head inflorescence with two types of flowers, rays that comprised the outer row of colorful “petals” and the inner disks that form the bulk of the flower. The reason the flowers have their orb-like appearance is because they are largely absent of any rays.

The flowers of Helianthus radula emerge in autumn and are a wonderful companion to the ghostly colored Liatris elegans.

The flowers of Helianthus radula emerge in autumn and are a wonderful companion to the ghostly colored Liatris elegans.

What a novelty in the plant world! I was intrigued. I contacted her offering to trade some seed, and soon I had an envelope ready to sow. Seeds germinated quickly, and I transplanted them into a sandy spot since they are native to the gulf coast. They have the most interesting foliage. For much of the growing season their orbicular leaves hugged the ground until the crowns began to elongate later in the summer. And, then out of nowhere these antennae-looking flowers pierced through the fray of grasses and forbs in my garden and attracted pollinators. I was delighted. And, the seedheads stood through wind and rain with very few bending over. Even into the winter, the seedheads were persistent until the spring mowing, although I will add a few were decimated by the birds as these frugivores foraged.

This year is the second that it has been growing in my garden, and there are even more flowers. I haven’t discerned yet if this plant is a reseeding annual or perennial, but either way it is delightful. I should know in the next few years. They are planted in a bed near our driveway, and I’ve noticed the shadows the circular flowers cast on the blacktop when the sun is at an angle in the sky. I really like to pair it with white flowers or those that have hints of white, and the strong texture pops with the more fine textured grasses.

One last note. Jenks Farmer argued that this plant needs a better name. I agree since rayless seems to hint that there is something lacking to this plant. Perhaps button sunflower or lollypop sunflower, something, really anything to better convey how wonderful this plant is.

A closeup of Helianthus radula flowers

A closeup of Helianthus radula flowers