Posts Tagged ‘Fragrant’

Biennial. Zone 2. Caryophyllaceae. Dianthus barbatus originated in the mountains of southern Europe.

‘Sooty’ is often billed as the “black” Sweet William, but in reality it is a deep, rich crimson, with nicely contrasting pure white stamens. Though ‘Sooty’ is often described as “new and improved”, in reality it is almost indistinguishable in my experience from the venerable English heirloom variety, ‘Dunnett’s Deep Crimson’, introduced in the late 1800s.

Many heads of clove-fragranced, velvety crimson flowers are produced in midsummer of the plant’s second year. Foliage shows a distinctive dark red blush, as do stems, particularly at the leaf joints. ‘Sooty’ tends not to be as tall or as substantial in form as many of the other traditional Sweet Williams, reaching only 12 to 18 inches tall, and proving occasionally rather lax in habit.

‘Sooty’ blooms for a fairly extended time. You may get a few flowers in autumn of its first year, but the best show comes in year two, when the cluster-heads bristling with dark-blushed, sharply pointed, modified leaflets unfold their blooms from early June and well into summer. For continued flower production, promptly deadhead when the clusters finally fade, or harvest at peak perfection for bouquets.

Something of a curiousity in the garden, though a very pleasant one.

I must confess that I have sometimes found ‘Sooty’ a little difficult to place. Self-sown seedlings generally manage to find a niche where they can blend well with their neighbours, but my greatest success with Sweet Williams in general, including ‘Sooty’, was way back when I grew ambitious vegetable gardens, which always included several rows of annual flowers for cutting. For a few years I included “biennial rows” which I planted out in late summer, full of Sweet Williams and Canterbury Bells and their like. With abundant fertility and regular watering, these bloomed the following spring and summer with great vigour, providing armfuls of flowers for arrangements. In the mixed border, fighting it out for growing space among various companions, I find that the Sweet Williams don’t reach such majestic proportions as when treated more as “crop” plants.

A true biennial which may carry on by offsets, but usually by self-seeding, so allow a few bloom heads to mature seed to re-sow.

Sun is best, though light shade is tolerated.  Good soil and moisture are appreciated.

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Giant Crambe - Crambe cordifolia - a Hill Farm plant growing in our good friend Ellen's Soda Creek, B.C. garden - July 2008. Image: HFN

Giant Crambe – Crambe cordifolia – a Hill Farm plant growing in our good friend Ellen’s Soda Creek, B.C. garden – July 2008. Image: HFN

Perennial. Zone 3. Brassicaceae (formerly Cruciferae.) Caucasus Mountains. A.k.a. COLEWORT, GIANT SEA KALE.

This plant has been grown in gardens for at least 100 years, and is much sought after by anyone who has seen it in the dramatic mixed perennial flower borders of famous British country estates.

A most substantial plant, this is! Imagine a Volkswagen Beetle sized space commitment for its admittedly brief bloom time, 3 weeks at best. Okay, perhaps that is a slight exaggeration. But this thing can get huge.

Large, thick-textured, hairy basal leaves produce tall, multi-branching stems from 3 to 6 feet tall, which produce clouds of very sweetly-scented, pure white flowers in early summer. Looks like a Baby’s Breath gone wild, is one comment a happy customer made when proudly showing me a photo of her immense 5-year-old plant.

Crambe cordifolia takes a while to reach full size, usually blooming year three or thereabouts. Site carefully, as it is tap-rooted and dislikes being moved. Though not at all invasive, it may also persistently re-sprout from chunks of taproot left in the soil if you do decide to  move it once it is established. Frequently the transplanted piece will languish and die, after a long, yellow-leaved decline, so think hard before getting out your shovel.

Being in the Brassica Family, Crambe cordifolia is attractive to Cabbage Moths, so keep an eye out for the caterpillars, as they can skeletonize those big leaves surprisingly quickly, leaving nothing but the centre ribs. Most gardeners cut off the bloom stalks once flowering is finished, but if you want to try to ripen seed, or just simply like the look of the thing for its curiousity factor, you can certainly leave it alone, though a stake is a good idea, as summer thunderstorms may topple the aging edifice.

When I first experimented with Crambe cordifolia I was rather worried about its hardiness; most Zone ratings were for 6 or thereabouts, but after almost 20 years of growing and selling it, and much customer feedback (most enthusiastic, though some people felt it got too big, or were troubled by resprouting roots after digging up established plants) I can firmly state that Zone 3 suits it just fine.

Full sun. Very drought tolerant once established, though it appreciates summer moisture and reasonable fertility for the best after-blooming foliage health.

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One more look at Ellen’s Giant Crambe, with Asiatic lilies at its feet. Honey-scented, and alive with bees. Soda Creek, B.C., July 2008. Image: HFN

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Biennial or short-lived perennial. Zone 2. Brassicaceae. Syn. Cheiranthus x marshallii. Despite the common name, Siberian Wallflower is most accurately described as originating in England. It was a deliberate cross made by John Marshall in 1846 between Erysimum perofskianum, originally native to the Middle East, in specific Persia, and E. decumbens, from northern Spain, the Pyrenees and the southwestern Alps.

The Brassica Family makes up for its generally utilitarian foliage – think of the humble cabbage, and kale, and all of the mustards, not to mention the inconspicuous foliage of our cottage garden stalwarts such as Dame’s Rocket (Hesperis) and Stocks (Matthiola) – by frequently having the sweetest scented of flowers. The Wallflowers surpass all of their relatives in this characteristic, being famously planted in combination with less-fragrant spring bulbs such as tulips, both for the contrasting beauty of their velvety flowers and for their outpouring of honey-rich, spicy fragrance.

Sadly, the “traditional” English wallflowers, Cheiranthus/Erysimum cheiri, with their large blooms in shades of antique red and rich brown, copper, cream and crimson are not reliably hardy in our Canadian climate, unless one happens to live in gentler-wintered regions such as B.C.’s lower mainland. The Siberian Wallflower happily steps in to fulfill the role of its more delicate cousin for us Northerners, and it does so in a most eye-catching and deliciously fragrant way.

Siberian Wallflower is technically a biennial, but I have had it flower profusely in its first year from early-sown seed. From fast-growing clumps of strap-shaped foliage sprouted in early March, an abundance of bud clusters appear in May, which quickly pop open in an endless succession of very fragrant, absolutely neon-bright orange blooms well into mid-summer.

The plants elongate and get a bit weedy looking as summer advances, but it is best to ignore this and leave at least a few plants to mature their seeds, because this pretty flower is quite happy to establish itself as a self-sowing permanent resident in the garden. It naturalizes quite nicely; we’ve seen it used among other wildflowers as a bank erosion planting, as well as in more traditional plantings.

Despite the self-sowing trait, it is considered non-invasive; seedlings are shallow rooted and very easy to eliminate, but are generally welcome wherever they appear, or you can clip the plants back after blooming.

Siberian Wallflower is a fairly modest thing, size-wise, growing about a foot or so tall. It is easy to tuck in here and there where its vibrant colour will accent other spring and early summer flowers, and it harmonizes particularly beautifully with its fellow biennial Forget-Me-Not (Myosotis), the warm orange and cool sky blue proving the artistic theory of contrasting colours to be a Very Good Thing in the garden as well as on the canvas.

Siberian Wallflower is occasionally offered in a bright yellow variation, ‘Citrona Yellow’, and in a number of other named strains in various degrees of yellow, gold and orange.

Full sun is preferred, and any sort of soil. Thrives with average fertility and watering care, and is quite drought tolerant once established.

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Convallaria majalis - Lily-of-the-Valley - Williams Lake, B.C. - May 23, 2014

Convallaria majalis – Lily-of-the-Valley – Williams Lake, B.C. – May 23, 2014. Image: HFN

Perennial. Zone 1. Asparagaceae, formerly Liliaceae. Woodland flower of Northern Europe, from England east and south to the Caucasus, into northern Turkey. Also found in Japan, and the North American Appalachians, though there is some speculation that the American population originated from introduced plants.

Lily-of-the-Valley has been grown in gardens since at least 1000 B.C. It is well documented in many herbals and plant lists, and was an important medicinal herb as well as a highly-regarded ornamental. Today most of its uses are decorative, though the species’ chemical constituents are being studied for various medicinal applications, and it is used in homeopathy as a remedy for various heart conditions.

By mid to late April in Cariboo-Chilcotin garden, the tightly furled spikes of Lily-of-the-Valley start to emerge, soon unfolding into dark green, mule-ear shaped leaves, with the bloom clusters visible at the base of each foliage cluster.

A thriving colony of Convallaria majalis in early May - Hill Farm, 2014. If you look closely you will see the emerging flower buds at the base of the leaf clusters.

A thriving colony of Convallaria majalis in early May – Hill Farm, 2014. If you look closely you will see the emerging flower buds at the bases of the leaf clusters. Image: HFN

As May progresses the leaves expand to form a solid carpet of green, and the bloom stems lengthen, until one long-anticipated day one becomes aware, by catching a waft of the unmistakable fragrance, that the first flowers have opened.

Early June, Hill Farm, 2010.

Early June, Hill Farm, 2010. Image: HFN

The blooms are pristinely perfect: tiny pure white bells with pale yellow stamens, arranged in gently arching sprays. Thickly textured and long lasting, these are marvelous cut flowers, being free of their fragrance even after several days in a vase. Lilies-of-the-Valley are classic wedding bouquet flowers, and are commercially grown for the specialty florist market, though brides in months other than when the plants naturally flower should be prepared to pay a premium price for the artificially-forced greenhouse-grown blooms, which will also not be as fragrant as their garden-grown counterparts.

In the Victorian “Language of Flowers”, Lily-of-the-Valley signified “return to happiness” and “expectation of love”, which, along with the delicate virginal beauty of the blooms, no doubt accounts for its many bridal associations.

The fragrance of the flowers is outstanding, and perfumers have tried for centuries to mimic it in their concoctions, for though it is freely produced, it is not able to be captured in any sort of usable way. Reasonable imitations have been produced chemically, but there is truly nothing like the real thing, from a cluster of the dew-wet blooms picked on a fresh May morning.

To grow your own plot of Convallaria, you should first prepare a patch of shady ground by removing all surface tree and shrub roots and potentially competing grasses and other plants, and then digging in some well-rotted compost or manure. Plant the shallow-rooted pips just as they come out of their pots, with the rhizomes extending at right angles from the leaf clusters. Keep well watered and weeded the first season, and after that the plants should settle in to form an ever-expanding, maintenance-free colony. 

Lily-of-the-Valley does very well under trees and high-pruned shrubs, thriving on the filtered sunlight coming through leaves. Though very shade tolerant, plants do need some natural light if they are to bloom, so avoid dense shade such as that on the north side of buildings. Also avoid planting these in the mixed border, as they are happier where they can form a single-species colony. Very vigorous larger plants will crowd them out, and they in turn will gobble up more delicate things; the ongoing struggle will not be a happy thing, so it’s best to dedicate an area to your plantation right from the start.

Many people inquire as to the poisonous aspects of this plant, as it does appear on many “toxic garden flower” lists. Though all parts of the plant contain cardiac-affecting glycosides and digestive system-affecting saponins, though there are very few confirmed cases of actual poisonings, and no confirmed fatalities. It is theorized that, though potentially dangerous, the chemical constituents in the fresh plant matter are poorly absorbed by the digestive tract, so though accidental consumption might make you feel quite sick, it probably won’t kill you. (And I can’t imagine why one would accidentally consume this plant, as it is quite distinctive and not likely to be mistaken for anything else during any stages of its growth.)  The plants frequently produce red berries in the summer and autumn and this may be of some concern to those with very young children; be aware and garden with this in mind.

Convallaria majalis ‘striata’ – Hill Farm – May 26, 2014. Image: HFN

There are a number of interesting variations of this venerable garden plant occasionally available at specialty nurseries. We are in the process of propagating our own small colony of the striped-leaved variety, Convallaria majalis ‘striata’, and hope to be able to share these in a few more years. There is also a rosy-pink variation, Convallaria majalis ‘rosea’, and a double type, Convallaria majalis ‘prolificans’, though these last two are much less vigorous than their ancestors.

 

 

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