Memories from Cades Cove

Cades Cove holds a special place in my heart.  Its one of my favorite places in the world.  I’ve camped there, walked its streams, road through it probably around a dozen times, and I’ve stood on top of Gregory Bald and looked down into this valley. I know its curves and loops by heart.

If you haven’t heard of Cades Cove, it is an 11-mile loop in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Early pioneers lived here before the park was established, and there are still historical buildings on site.

My favorite time to see this valley is autumn at the end of the growing season when many of the plants are blazed with their fall glory. I have a plethora of photos I’ve taken there over the years.

There’s a lone tree I’ve always enjoyed seeing out in Cades Cove. It’s so stately.

Sourwood (Oxydendrum arboreum) is one of my favorite native trees, mainly for its wonderful red fall foliage color.

Chelone glabra (white turtlehead) grows in wet sites along streams in Cades Cove.

A sea of sea oats in a forest in Cades Cove. Chasmanthium latifolium is a wonderful native grass for shady sites, and it can sport good fall color.

An under appreciated native is Euonymus americanus. I’ve seen it grow well in Cades Cove and here in Texas. Hearts-a-bustin’ or strawberry bush has these lovely capsules in the fall, and the foliage often turns a bleached white.

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Our fifth anniversary was last weekend. Karen and I spent part of our honeymoon in the Smokies, and during our stay, I wanted to go see the fall color in Cades Cove.  It’s about an hour drive from Gatlinburg through the dark winding roads with the light slowly crescendoing towards dawn. I love getting to this place in the early morning when people are few and far between before the sun peaks over the mountain tops.

Skeletons of the past season stand in Cades Cove.

Fog shrouds Hyatt Lane that connects the loop through Cades Cove.

The lone tree yet again. The prior photo from above was taken 8 years before this image, and I can see some changes in its architecture. Some limbs lost and others gained.

The color was a bit past, but that’s alright.  There was enough still holding on for us two leaf peepers.  

A golden glow envelopes the broomsedge (Andropogon virginicus) in Cades Cove. This photo was one of my favorites from the trip.

This Acer is holding on to its last leaves.

Some snags rise out of grass and fog as beams of sunlight penetrate Cades Cove.

The shadows of Tridens flavus rise out of the grassland.

Seeing these short Liquidambar emerging out of this field made me appreciate the potential of coppicing sweet gum in a garden. Each tree has such variable color.

A pair of late milkweed follicles haven’t shed their seeds and coma yet.

I always love finding milkweed seed caught in their dispersion.

On the southern loop headed back to the entrance I spied this large Rhus colony against a backdrop of fading fall color on the mountainsides.

Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, my mind will drift to Cades Cove.  I’ll imagine myself walking through the grass under a starry, moonlit sky where I can barely see firmament torn by the mountain tops.  And, there I will find rest.  

October at the JC Raulston Arboretum

This post is 10 of 12 of a series I’m doing this year reflecting back on some of my favorite plants from visiting the JC Raulston Arboretum while attending graduate school at NC State in Raleigh, NC.

October was one of my favorite months to visit the JC Raulston Arboretum. The warmth and light of summer that had spurred growth was now waning, and we saw the last flowers of the year emerge before first frost. The cooler weather and shortening days also meant that the first fall colors began to manifest on trees and shrubs. Such a time was ripe to walk through the gardens and enjoy a harvest of color. I hope these favorite plants from the arboretum inspire you to try a few new ones in your garden.

Lespedeza thunbergii subsp. thunbergii ‘Little Volcano’ is such a focal point in fall with its blue-green foliage that is soon covered with magenta flowers. The flowers are so plentiful they weight the stems down for a few weeks while the plant is in bloom.

I loved this combination of Salvia mexicana ‘Limelight’, Ipomoea batatas ‘Sweet Caroline Sweetheart Purple’, and Euphorbia tirucalli ‘Rosea’ at the arboretum. It is a play off the classic yellow/purple contrasting color scheme with a hint of orange/blue contrast, too.

A close-up of the acid green sepals and indigo flowers on Salvia mexicana ‘Limelight’.

I always liked the height of Aster tartaricus. Many asters tend to hug the ground or be in little balls, but this one can rise in a garden bed.

It isn’t fall without mums! Chrysanthemum ‘Gethsemane Moonlight’ is a very vigorous grower and features soft lemon-colored ray petals.

You probably won’t find Pityopsis graminifolia in many gardens, but it is a cool native. Evergreen silvery foliage that looks more like grass leaves (hence the graminifolia which means leaves resembling grass) than something in the aster family puts forth yellow blooms in autumn.

I always enjoyed seeing these Cosmos sulphureus erupt out of the perennial border at the arboretum in fall. Most years, I wouldn’t even see seedlings until well into summer.

Don’t you love how the ray color of Dahlia ‘Forncett Furnace’ echoes the stems on Hibiscus ‘Holly Springs’ in the foreground?

Students are always amazed in the fall to see yellow aster-like flowers emerge from these funky kidney-shaped leaves. Here a mass of Farfugium japonicum ‘Aureomaculatum’ flanks the side of the new lath house.

You can’t make out much variegation on this Callicarpa americana ‘Berries and Cream’, but the berries certainly do shine.

Aster ageratoides ‘Ezo Murasaki’ was a new aster to me. While it has lovely blooms in fall, it can be a bit aggressive.

I love seeing the bracts on hydrangeas fade. You never know what colors are going to manifest like the soft red on Hydrangea macrophylla ‘REI 05’ Forever & Ever Together.

I had seen the Ozark native Amsonia hubrichtii many times in the green, but this plant at the arboretum was my first encounter with its buttery yellow fall color.

The first time Tilia cordata ‘Winter Orange’ caught my eye was seeing the vibrant orange stems on a chilly day. The second time it caught my eye was at the end of October when the leaves turned a lovely yellow.

Brie Arthur stands in front of Parrotia subaequalis for scale. This more recent Parrotia introduction is beloved for its spectacular fall color.

A close-up of the flaming Parrotia subaequalis foliage.

The lobed leaves of Acer saccharum ‘Flax Mill Majesty’ (or it appears to go by just ‘Majesty’ now) are burning bright against a gray sky.

The Asian persimmons often offer good fall color as seen here with the brilliant red foliage on Diospyros kaki.

And, last on the list is Hamamelis mollis ‘Wisley Supreme’. Its fading leaves are a final call for the end of the season, but tucked just behind are the swelling buds that will soon open and warm winter days.

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A Favorite Aster

I’ve been waiting for this moment since we planted the gravel garden back in April. Symphyotrichum oblongifolium ‘Raydon’s Favorite’ has come into bloom, and it is spectacular. This aromatic aster glows amongst the haze of Muhlenbergia reverchonii and the white dust of Calamintha nepeta subsp. nepeta to beckon the end of the year.

A bit of repetition with Symphyotrichum oblongifolium ‘Raydon’s Favorite’ and Calamintha nepeta subsp. nepeta.

Its hard to convey to students what this plant will do in autumn no matter how animated you get in saying, “IT WILL BE COVERED IN PURPLE BLOOMS,” in front of some non-descript foliage. And, spelling the name Symphyotrichum oblongifolium ‘Raydon’s Favorite’ on a plant id exam can be a bit of a turn off I guess. But, after it puts on a show, ‘Raydon’s Favorite’ consistently becomes one of their favorites, too. Perhaps because witnessing the transformation is amazing. One week its another green mound in the landscape, and then the next its smothered in blooms.

For us in east Texas, bloom time lasts around 6 weeks, which is enough time to help cement the name into their heads. This year the asters were a bit later. I’ve depended on them to start flowering toward the end of September, but they all seemed sluggish to get going.

A spray of Muhlenbergia reverchonii erupts from the purple rays and yellow disks of Symphyotrichum oblongifolium ‘Raydon’s Favorite’.

I began wondering from where my original plant came. If I remember correctly, I picked up my first ‘Raydon’s Favorite’ attending the 2007 Tennessee Master Gardener Conference in Kingsport, TN. Some speaker highly recommended it, and once I had it in the ground I could see why. Each fall, it was covered with hundreds of purple rays and yellow disks. This aster spread in my parent’s garden, so much so that I was able to get starts to bring to Texas a few years ago. I do wish that I could say mine at home look as good as these in the gravel garden at school, but I have the voles to blame for their haggard appearance.

The gravel garden planting is a wonderful entrance for the Sprout garden. Even more so now that ‘Raydon’s Favorite’ is in flower.

I also began to wonder where this wonderful cultivar originated. I reached out to Allen Bush. I happened to see online this week he put the name ‘Raydon’s Favorite’ on this selection. I met Allen in 2007 at the Perennial Plant Association in Columbus, Ohio, probably around the same time that my ‘Raydon’s Favorite’ was just getting rooted in well, and he has been a good friend to this day. A phone call later we were swapping aster stories.

Allen said he named this aster after Raydon Alexander of San Antonio, TX. Raydon had seen this aster around the south as a passalong plant, and he shared it with Allen to evaluate and grow. Raydon said he thought that it was a form of Aster × frikartii, but the morphology wasn’t right.  Once in Allen’s hands, he had an aster expert key it to a form of Symphyotrichum oblongifolium. However, this selection was more compact than the typical species, which warranted its horticultural use. With Allen’s help it got around, so much so that the Garden Club of America named it Plant of the Year in 2016.  Allen added that while sometimes you’ll see the variety name angustatus on it, he doesn’t think that it holds much nomenclatural merit.

We talked about how well our plants were performing in the gravel garden. Allen said he thinks that the grit is closer to the actual habitat than just regular garden soil. He is used to seeing aromatic aster in Kentucky thriving in limestone road cuts and xeric outcrops.  He cuts his back in mid-June to help prevent flopping.

Before saying goodbye, we both chatted about how we needed to try ‘October Skies’, an even tighter aster and two weeks earlier flowering than ‘Raydon’s Favorite’.

Don’t you just love how tight these purple mounds are?

But, no matter what new asters come out, ‘Raydon’s Favorite’ is still one of Jared’s favorites, and I can’t imagine a world without it. So, thanks Allen and Raydon for sharing this wonderful plant with all of us.

Fall at the Dallas Arboretum

When I moved to Texas in 2014, one of the first places I wanted to visit was the The Dallas Arboretum & Botanic Garden in October. I had seen mesmerizing images of pumpkins used to create spectacular villages online from friends who had gone. During my first summer in Texas, I met SFA alumna Jenny Wegley who is the vice president of horticulture operations at the arboretum. I told Jenny that I was interested in coming to visit later that fall and wanted to bring students along. She said we were welcome to come and to give her a heads up when we made our way to Dallas.

A few months later, a handful of students and I left Nacogdoches around 6 am to get to Dallas as early as possible. We first headed to the Pecan Grove to meet up with Jenny before the big crowds of people arrived. Pecan Grove, where the core of the autumn display is housed each year, was covered with pumpkin pointillism. Jenny told us that some years 90,000 pumpkins are used to decorate the arboretum, and each year different designs are used to enchant both new and returning visitors.

The pumpkin display is concentrated in Pecan Grove, an open area that allows the gardeners to install whatever suits their artistic pallet.

What a foundation planting for this pumpkin house!

A close up of the wall of squash reveals the delightful diversity of textures and colors from the cucurbit family.

Our crop of students standing amongst a crop of pumpkins. Even Jenny Wegley (third from right) was an SFA grad from back in the day.

The staff at the Dallas Arboretum were hard at work making sure that the displays were “stuffed” with enough pumpkins.

I found these pumpkin garlands adorable! They were made using wire and had ornamental corn hung from them, too.

A river of steel blue pumpkins meanders through a tapestry of orange.

Piles of cucurbits surrounded by vining ornamental sweet potatoes created the illusion of a pumpkin patch.

After we left Pecan Grove, we walked to see other parts of the arboretum. Along the way we saw other places where the gardeners had integrated pumpkins into the landscape displays.

Pumpkins were used as edging along side these beds of Pachystachys lutea and Strobilanthes dyerianus.

Pumpkin edging fades into pumpkin piles here in front of Hamelia patens and Manihot esculenta ‘Variegata’.

These pumpkin cairns add a pop to this bed of Tagetes.

I liked how the white pumpkins picked up the hints of white in the fading Begonia petals.

And, then other parts of the arboretum were planted for fall color.

This alley of juvenile trees was planted with Tagetes and Ipomoea for fall color.

This bed featured quite a contrast between the yellow Chrysanthemum and Acalypha wilkesiana ‘Kona Gold’ and the purple Torenia.

We saw Lespedeza thunbergii subsp. thunbergii 'Little Volcano' at the arboretum. I love this fall flowering shrub; for weeks the branches are covered in lovely magenta flowers that are held amongst glaucous blue leaves.

My first trip taking students to the Dallas Arboretum was a wonderful time. And, while most of us can’t have 90,000 pumpkins at our homes, I hope that some of these photos have helped to inspire you to be a bit creative with how you create your autumnal displays!

September at the JC Raulston Arboretum

This post is 9 of 12 of a series I’m doing this year reflecting back on some of my favorite plants from visiting the JC Raulston Arboretum while attending graduate school at NC State in Raleigh NC.

This week we left September behind, and I had fun sorting through photographs from the JC Raulston Arboretum. Each year when I went out to take these photos, school would have just started back, and it was a nice break to get out in the garden and witness the shifting seasons from summer to fall. Enjoy these photos and great plants from my time in Raleigh.

Passiflora 'Purple Haze' blooms with its sensational flowers. I love how Passiflora are a host to Gulf fritillary that we see buzzing our flowers in fall.

I was delighted to see Symphytum × uplandicum 'Axminster Gold' at the arboretum in the lath house. I figured it would burn in the south, but the foliage was quite clean and colorful.

Callicarpa americana 'Welch's Pink' is a wonderful pink fruited selection of our native beautyberry that was discovered by SFA graduate Matt Welch. The JCRA website notes that seedlings tend to come true to type, indicating this mutation is likely stable and not the result of hybridization.

Butterfly gingers smell spectacular throughout the summer, and in September their bloom begins to wind down as we head into fall. Here, the coral colored flowers of Hedychium 'Elizabeth' are still hanging on.

I loved watching the flower bud of Musella lasiocarpa develop over the summer at the arboretum. It looked so freaky with all the sheathing leaves until…

…it exploded into flower. Musella lasiocarpa really is an amazing ornamental banana with its giant inflorescence.

The arboretum featured a collection of rainlilies like this Zephyranthes ‘Bangkok Yellow’. I always delighted in seeing them bloom, roughly five days after a rain.

One day, I noticed that this Zingiber mioga 'Silver Arrow' had some fallen flowers at its base. I knelt down to investigate, and I discovered that these were actually flowers emerging from the plant! It was such an interesting adaptation seeing the blooms at ground level.

Here’s a close up of the flowers of Zingiber mioga 'Silver Arrow' that emerged from the ground.

If you are looking for variegated tropical foliage, Curcuma petiolata 'Emperor' fits the bill. It looks like it has been streaked with a white paintbrush.

Most people know Chlorophytum as the variegated, low growing spider plant. But, I loved this upright Chlorophytum colubrinum that sported flowers in autumn.

How can you not love the smoky pink and teal flowers of Polinathes (Agave) howardii? It is such an unusual color combination to see in a tubular flower.

I admired the voluminous inflorescences of Kniphofia rooperi. This species is a later flowering form of red hot poker.

Rhodophiala bifida is a bulb I have gotten to know well after moving to Texas. Oxblood lily blooms after our first rain in autumn, usually as a herald to the emergence of Lycoris.

Lycoris albiflora emerges from herbaceous froth in the white garden at the arboretum.

The Warmth of Tickseed Sunflower

The air was chilly outside the mornings this week, so chilly that I saw my breath. However, there is still enough residual heat from the summer radiating out of the ground. That means I’m still in shorts even though the thermometer read below 50F. I love this time of the morning when the sun is just starting to warm the autumn landscape.

At a distance I see the flowers of Bidens aristosa beginning to shine with the breaking of the day. I wanted some color at the base of the willows we planted along our property line. So, I welcomed tickseed sunflower as an herbaceous layer under the growing trees. I should add another reason I brought it home was because Karen loves yellow flowers.

A glance down the line of Bidens aristosa

After we moved into our new house in August four years ago, I noticed this native growing in a spot along the roadside. One day, the blooms vanished when the highway crew mowed their end-of-season cut. So, I stopped and dug up a plant that looked like it still had some life to it. That one plant became hundreds that now grow along this western property line that runs almost north-south. I never expected them to spread so much within such a short time, but I suppose with other common names like bearded beggarticks I should have anticipated this ruderal’s ability to find purchase in other locales. Bidens are named for the two teeth-like (bi- meaning two, and -dens meaning teeth) projections on the seed that aid dispersion and cause the seeds to act like ticks on clothes and animal fur.

A close up of Bidens aristosa flowers. Doesn’t it just look like a happy color?

From my vantage in the morning the flowers glow. The effect is lost a bit once the sun traces the sky; once the sun is behind them, the gold rays don’t pop as much with the sun to their backs. However, I do hope our neighbors enjoy when they are lit by the western sun.

The plants tend to not start flowering heavily until the end of September when we reach short days. In years past I’ve noticed one side had more blooms than the other. I suspected our security light was the reason why. However, we had that turned off to help reduce interference with birds and bugs, and the numbers of flowers on either side are more equal this autumn.

This weekend once the day had warmed, I stood and watched the frenzied activity from all kinds of insects on tickseed sunflower. Gulf Fritillaries, American Bumble Bees, and Monarchs were the easiest to spot. I should note that The Xerces Society reported that this species is very good for serving as a nectar source for Monarch butterflies as they travel south. This reference reported 1893 Monarch observations, the most of any plant for the southern plains!

The show doesn’t last too long. We’ll get to enjoy Bidens aristosa for about a month before the plants start going down. But, for now they are a welcome sight and warm the garden with color as the season gets cooler and cooler.

A Peachy Keen Lycoris

This week has been pleasant for mid-September.  It is rare this time of year for us to be cool and cloudy during the day without the help of a cold front. I thank Hurricane Nicolas for bringing us a change in the weather.  We were forecast to get 2 inches of rain, but only a quarter of an inch fell.  At least the clouds and breeze kept it in the low eighties for a few days.

Such weather is perfect for admiring the emerging scapes on a lovely peach-colored Lycoris in my garden.  My starts came from the Smith County Master Gardener bulb sale that’s held every fall in Tyler, TX.   The name on this plant is a bit muddled. So, I reached out to Greg Grant who is the extension agent for Smith County to get his take on them.  

Greg said that he was the source of this particular cultivar for the sale.   His clone has gone by the names Lycoris × elsiae and Lycoris carnea over the years, but the name Lycoris × albiflora ‘Dorman’ is the most accurate name currently.  Greg said that his plants came from Cleo Barnwell of Shreveport, LA who got them from Sam Caldwell, a well-known Lycoris breeder who lived in Nashville, TN.  

Lycoris × albiflora ‘Dorman’ emerges for fall in the garden.

I like to throw Lycoris × albiflora ‘Dorman’ into fall bouquets. I’m skimping until I have a few more scapes to use.

No matter the name or the source, this Lycoris is a beautiful addition to the late summer and early fall garden.  It starts blooming about three weeks ahead of my Lycoris radiata. My scapes have doubled from four last fall to nine this year, and I feel comfortable the plants have reached a size for dividing.  It’s also time to find a better spot for them.  I’ll be honest.  When I first got the tunicate bulbs, I just threw them in a perennial bed.  

A close up of Lycoris × albiflora ‘Dorman’. The flowers open more pink and then fade to a peachy white.

I’m contemplating where to put them to create a good plant combination to play off the color. Siting for contrast doesn’t feel right because the flower has hints of white that fades through butter, peach, and pink. So, I find myself looking more for color echo. I’ve been scratching my head looking around my home garden for perennial candidates but finding none at this time of the year. Then, I realized the flowers are the same color as the flowering Muhlenbergia reverchonii that we just planted this past spring in the gravel garden at school.  I don’t have any yet at the house, but it’s now on my plant wish list to pair with this Lycoris for a peachy-keen color echo.  

A photo of our gravel garden backlit by the afternoon sun. Muhlenbergia reverchonii (in the upper right) would provide a perfect back drop for Lycoris × albiflora ‘Dorman’ flowers emerging amongst the panicles.

August at the JC Raulston Arboretum

This post is 8 of 12 of a series I’m doing this year reflecting back on some of my favorite plants from visiting the JC Raulston Arboretum while attending graduate school at NC State in Raleigh NC.

Of course, it’s September now, but I’ve been sorting through photographs the past few weeks that I took in Augusts past at the JC Raulston Arboretum. I moved to Raleigh, NC in August of 2008, and the arboretum became a home away from home. I would spend some of my first evenings walking around the garden to learn plants that grew well in the area. Each August thereafter would still have that same feeling of learning and exploration as a new school year began. So, I hope you enjoy learning and exploring a few of my favorite plants from the JC Raulston Arboretum from one of the hottest months of the year.

One of the first photographs I took after moving to Raleigh was this looking down shot on a Yucca rostrata, a tough plant that can become a focal point in the landscape. It starts as a skirt of lanceolate leaves and then elongates towards the sky over the years, leaving a thick stem in its wake.

August was the month that I started noticing the warm orange color on Salix ‘Flame’ that would become prominent over the winter months once the foliage dropped. Here you also notice the smoky color of the leaves.

In August the buds on Rostrinucula dependens would start to elongate before flowering a lovely pink.

I hate kudzu for its invasiveness, but the variegated ‘Sherman’s Ghost’ on the back patio created nice shade. A tough spot deserves a tough plant I suppose.

Years ago, I saw a curious vine loaded with red samaras and yellow flowers at Callaway Gardens in Georgia with no idea of its identity. At the arboretum I learned it as Heteropterys glabra, or redwing.

A close up of the beautiful fruit of Heteropterys glabra

Another amazing vine I saw at the arboretum was Mucuna cyclocarpa, or purple jade vine. I love members of the bean family that have incredible flowers, and this new-to-me vine wasn’t an exception. If you grow this species, just be aware that some have an allergy to touching the hairs on the plant.

In the Lath House at the arboretum, Hydrangea involucrata ‘Wim Rutten’ Blue Bunny(TM) bloomed well into August with its billowy lacecaps. This Hydrangea supposedly blooms on new wood, a plus for areas where winter bud damage is an issue.

Many geophytes would start flowering after summer’s crescendo as witnessed here by the geophyte border.

One of my favorite bulbs for August is Lilium formosanum. My friend Jimmy Williams told me years ago that there are few plants that reach such height in the middle of summer and bloom so effectively as this lily.

Lycoris or spider lilies would start popping in August. I loved the pink-to-purple-to-blue fade on this Lycoris sprengeri.

A new Lycoris species to me was the cream-colored Lycoris anhuiensis. I quite liked how it was planted to emerge through this groundcover of Sedum emarginatum ‘Eco Mt. Emei’.

The star-shaped, two-toned flowers of Gladiolus 'Flevo Kosmic' were out of this world!

The sweet smell of Hedychium flowers is so welcome in August. They remind me of swimming in our pool back home in Tennessee where the fragrance would waft across the water in the evenings. ‘White Starburst’ has a beautiful spiral of flowers atop 5–6 foot stems.

I really didn’t pay much attention to turk’s cap when in Raleigh, but now that I live in Texas I see it everywhere. It’s a durable, tough, native perennial that attracts Ruby-throated Hummingbirds. This clump is ‘Big Momma’, a cultivar developed by my friend Greg Grant.

A close up of the flowers on Malvaviscus arboreus var. drummondii 'Big Momma'

I was blown away when I saw this Fuchsia ‘Sunihanf’ Angel Earrings® thriving in the lath house because this genus doesn’t do well in the south at all. This cultivar is much more heat tolerant and is certainly on my wish list for trying in Texas.

I’ve written before about my love of Titanotrichum oldhamii. In the lath house this gold woodland foxglove was thriving and starting to bloom for fall.

This sheet of flowers on Sedum ‘Pure Joy’ is… well… pure joy.

A Hint of Autumn from Hyptis alata

The last Saturday in August was one of those rare cool summer days.  The temperature didn’t break 90F, and I was actually able to stay in one shirt instead of sweating through three or four.  It was the first hint of fall, albeit faint and barely whispered by the clouds that kept the sun off my back and at times drizzled enough rain to wet the ground.  There’s something about petrichor mixing with the bleached foliage of summer that smells like autumn.  

Fall plants are responding to the shift in the season.  The blackberry floricanes that were loaded mere months ago are now withered, and the cool day was an opportune time to clear them.  My first Lycoris radiata emerged quite early this week, and nearby, fall perennials like Symphyotrichum lateriflorum ‘White Lovely’ and Solidago rugosa ‘Fireworks’ are starting to flower like they do every year around this time.  

A new perennial that I’ve added to my garden that begins to enchant me in these late days of summer is Hyptis alata or clustered bushmint.  My genetics came from Mark Tietz of Wildscapes LLC in east Texas, but my introduction to the species was driving to Houston years ago.  I can’t quite remember the reason for the trip, but I do remember seeing these little cream-colored balls on stems rising from the highway ditches.  It looked like someone had stuck cake pops on a stem.

Hyptis alata is a species that hugs the coastal plain. It was quite at home in this cajun prairie in Eunice, Louisiana a few years back.

A few Octobers ago, I again encountered Hyptis alata in the cajun prairie in Eunice, LA . It was here that I realized the orbs were a great contrast to the linear grasses.   So, when Mark gave me a couple plants, I already had an idea of what to expect from this species.

Hyptis remind me of the orbs of Eryngium.  However, instead of white balls of flowers concentrated at the top, a single stem of Hyptis alata sports a dozen or more flower clusters held oppositely a few inches from the stem as it rises in the garden.  And, with 20 to 30 stems, the layering of these dots is like a pointillism painting.  

As the flower clusters continue to grow in size, they begin to resemble mini-cake pops.

I like the contrast of the white Hyptis alata with the black seedheads of Baptisia alba.

This native has an overall white appearance in the garden, which is welcome at a time when blacks and browns are begin to accumulate.  The white color comes from the combination of the spotted white flowers, the light green sepals that remain after the flower falls, and hazy-colored bracts under the flower cluster.   Once flowering finishes in another month or so, the orbs will turn more green and then fade to a dark umber. In this state I will enjoy Hyptis through winter until spring cutback.  

Hyptis alata looks lovely in the winter. The seed heads are quite persistent.

Now that I’ve had it for a few seasons, I’ve learned to cut it to the ground in mid-spring to help delay the onset of flowers and keep the height in check.  It can flop from the breezy rains we get in autumn. I’ve also learned that it attracts pollinators a plenty. I’m amazed that my photos don’t show any of the black wasps that go nuts over this plant. I usually have 5 to 10 buzzing it.

Some of you may be wondering about hardiness.  This gulf coast species is a bit frost sensitive.  This past spring after it had emerged we had a night that dipped below freezing.  A day later the foliage looked a bit burned while all the other perennials in the bed remained untouched.  Thus, I’m not sure how well it would overwinter further north.  It can be a bit seedy, which increases its chances of returning, but in my garden keeping the soil covered with vegetation seems to prevent most from germinating.  It’s only when there is bare soil that they find a start, and they are easily weeded out.

Yes, there’s a hint of autumn in seeing Hyptis alata in flower. It won’t be long now.

Direct Sowing the Fall Garden

I’ve always thought of August as the start of a new year. While I suppose that living on a school calendar for some thirty years has engrained that into me, there’s more to that feeling than just the return of classes. Change is in the air. Summer is waning, and the days are palpably getting shorter. It’s time to begin planting the fall vegetable garden. As a young gardener who experimented around with season extension, I realized that the crops that I was sowing now would live on into the spring. And, that really to begin planning next year’s garden I had to begin in late summer. It was often time to start clearing out warm-season crops that were finishing up their production anyway. So, yes, it does have the feel of a new chapter beginning.

For us in east Texas, there’s about 90 days left until our first frost, so plantings are usually intense for a month trying to get everything started and in the ground to be able to overwinter. I typically start direct seeding in late August, so I thought I would share some techniques and cultivars that I’ll be direct sowing over the next few weeks.

Mustard and Collard greens

Even though mustard and collards are separate species, I’ve grouped them together because I start sowing these greens in late August. Growing mustard greens were a Tennessee tradition for our family. I hated them at first, but once I planted them in my own garden, I quickly gained a taste for this classic southern crop.

Collards came to me later in life. I first tasted collards at the Old Salem Tavern in Old Salem, NC. They tasted delicious flavored with bacon drippings and brown sugar, so delicious that I added them to my fall rotation.

I try to time my seed sowing with a good pop up summer thunderstorm or tropical storm moving through. But, those rain events are too often unreliable, so I set sprinklers up for a week to help seeds stay moist. To evenly disperse the seeds over the growing bed, I have mixed seed with sand and then broadcasted across the bed in a criss-cross pattern. But, planting them in rows allows for easier cultivation between the plants. So, the decision is yours based on the space you have available. In either case plants live all the way through the winter here in zone 8 with yellow cruciform blossoms emerging in the spring.

You’ll hear people say let the plants experience a frost for better flavor, and there is some truth to that. Plants increase the soluble sugar in their foliage when exposed to cold temperatures, which lowers the freezing point and acts as a natural antifreeze. After harvesting, I follow my Granny’s practice of tossing the midribs and soaking the remaining foliage in salt water to rid of any pests that might still be hiding amongst the leaves.

For mustard greens, I like the classic cultivars like ‘Tendergreen’ and ‘Florida Broadleaf’. There are also ornamental mustards. ‘Red Giant’ turns a beautiful violet, ‘Magma’ has chartreuse curls and is blushed rose, and ‘Tokyo Bekana’ has a golden hue to it.  

‘Magma’ mustard erupts in the fall with blushed leaves and chartreuse curls.

For collards, definitely check out The Heirloom Collards Project for old time varieties. ‘Alabama Blue’ has lovely steel blue foliage with purple petioles. ‘Variegated’ is another fun cultivar to grow because some individuals in the population will have green and white leaves.  

One year, I had ‘Alabama Blue’ collards seed into some tall grass. I could identify it by its purple petioles.

Peas

Peas were another crop that I hated until I grew it. The truth is I didn’t know what a good pea was. Most of the peas I had from the store were very mealy and had a horrible texture. But, one year on a whim, I tried some English peas from our Sprout garden, and I was blown away by the flavor. They were as sweet as candy.

Since then, I have dedicated a couple beds at home to growing peas both in the fall and the spring. I struggled with seed germination until I realized that my plants were succumbing to a fungal wilt. Since then I have only grown disease resistant varieties like ‘PLS 595’ and ‘PLS 141’.  I should add that I sow the seed densely. It seems counter-intuitive to space them close and not thin them, but the recommendation has worked thus far.

While I have used sapling stakes, I have appreciated the consistency with nylon support held by a T-post and electrical conduit frame. The conduit is fed through PVC T-joints that rest on top of posts. The vines are rambunctious growing towards the low sun; thus, I run cotton twine every foot or so to help encourage them to climb their trellis. They will tank with the first frost, but I rip them out and plant something cold tolerant like spinach in their wake.

Carrots

There is nothing like a fall grown carrot. Seed sown in early September will be ready around early November, but if you let them sit in the soil for another month or two, they will sweeten, again due to sugar acting as a natural antifreeze. That’s a trick I learned from Eliot Coleman, and while we don’t experience quite the extended cold they do further north, I still notice a different between fall and spring carrot flavor.

When sowing seed in late August/early September, moisture is crucial. The seeds have to be watered well every day for six days.  SIX DAYS. I cannot stress that enough in the south. To aid in moisture retention, I will often cover them with floating row cover and check daily for any sign of emergence on the seed. Note that as you sow later into fall, the time to harvest increases. Carrots sown in late November will be ready to harvest 3-to-4 months later.

My favorite cultivars include the orange ‘Napoli’, the crimson ‘Atomic Red’, the violet with orange center ‘Purple Haze’ (although seed has been hard to find of late), and the creme-amber-tangerine mix ‘Rainbow’.

Floating row cover held down by T-posts is an effective cover for reducing water evaporation from the soil to aid in carrot seed germination.

I’m super excited to welcome the fall garden back into production. Best of luck direct sowing seed for these crops this fall, and happy new year for all you cool-season gardening aficionados!