Annuals & perennials Ideas, Tips & Guides

I got my first glimpse of what have become my seasonal favorites almost 25 years ago, in the Connecticut garden of Marilyn Barlow, when she was starting Select Seeds (which I’m proud is an occasional advertiser on A Way to Garden). Then, the “nursery” was Marilyn’s yard, and the “office” was her kitchen table. And then, I hardly knew any of the vintage plants, climbing or otherwise, that Marilyn was collecting.Though Select Seeds’ focus is on oldtime plants or ones with an oldtime look, the nursery has taken an increasingly forward-looking approach to environmental practices.On the path toward organic growing, says Marilyn, use of neonicotinoids and other systemic chemicals has been completely eliminated. “Right now we’re growing naturally, with the plants and with the seeds that we do grow here,” she explains. “We use predator insects as the main

A S IF TO CHEER ME ON DESPITE 7 INCHES of rain that fell the last two weeks, the screaming red martagon lilies are open again, right on time. I just thought I’d remind you in case you’re not the kind of visitor who digs through the archives compulsively (but if you did, you’d see that the similarly screaming red baneberry fruits are colored up now, too).

IT TAKES A VERY GOOD EYE to be able to arrange flowers of many colors in a single arrangement. Much easier (and often more striking) is a single-color theme.

REPEAT AFTER ME: early, middle, late. That’s the secret.

AS I KNOW I have already mentioned (do I sound desperate yet?), I am waiting for things to happen, for sure signs of life as I crawl around the leaf litter these tenaciously cold days, uncovering possibilities. What am I waiting (hoping) for? Things like the fiercely alive, sharpened-looking shoots of hostas.

We’d been to hear another old friend, Dan Hinkley, speak at nearby Berkshire Botanical Garden’s annual lecture with several hundred other winter-weary types, and afterward gone off with Dan and friends to eat.We didn’t really talk plants at the meal; nine crazy gardeners traded pet stories. I know—insane. Either we are getting old and soft, or have spent too much time on Cute Overload. But the next morning my breakfast guest and I shifted from zoology to botany, stirred up by a few of Dan’s slides, including one of Mukdenia rossii ‘Crimson Fans,’ a shade plant Dan’s helped bring to market as

I AM waiting for the graceful, native woodland perennial called blue cohosh, Caulophyllum thalictroides, to push its reddish-green shoots up through the soil.

AND THE BEAT GOES ON. If April was hectic, May is insane.

SOMEONE FELL ASLEEP IN A CHAIR LAST NIGHT AT 8, but this toad (loyal old tight-lipped friend that he is) is not saying who. In fact, he’s not saying much today other than good morning, before hopping away to hide behind the big pots in case carloads of people arrive at the gate for any more garden tours.

A BLOGGER IN OLD ENGLAND (not NEW England, mind you) posted lately about one of spring’s less cheery topics: What didn’t make it? Jane Perrone, a London allotment gardener, confesses to the loss of two Japanese maple, some painted ferns and lamb’s ears, and a “hardy” cyclamen. (Do “hardy” cyclamenever live, or just all disappear underground, travel some intricate tunnel system between our gardens and reconvene where we cannot see them, laughing at our foolhardiness in having tried to make them cooperate?) I felt compelled to confess to Jane via comment about my heucheras, a few of which seem to have killed themselves this winter (read: NOT MY FAULT), by leaping up and out of the ground and freezing to death.

THE ANNUAL VEGETABLE-GARDEN ARCHAEOLOGICAL DIG yielded the usual suspects—perennials and small shrubs I plunge in there for wintertime storage, things I use in summer pots: huge hosta clumps (I do love hostas) and Hakonechloa and other random bits. In went 3 inches of compost, 10 pounds of lime per 100 square feet, an all-natural organic fertilizer made of meals and manures, seeds for short rows of various salad greens, and a few-dozen onion plants.

With nearly 2-foot-wide, light green leaves on hairy stems that can approach 4 feet here, Astilboides tabularis is no shy thing, though it’s not a spreading thug at all. The stems attach in the middle of the leaf, so the foliage is held aloft like a small, round pedestal table—or some people say an umbrella.But its name is so descriptive, if you think about it: the tabularis part (meaning flat-topped, like a table), and even the genus name, Astilboides, since its flowers look like a giant creamy astilbe plume of sorts. Its “common” name (though I’ve never heard anybody say it) is shieldleaf. Make mine Astilboides.I brought my first clump home from a plant sale at the nearby Cary Arboretum, as it was then called, now the Cary Institute of Ec

Now Ruth Rogers Clausen, one author of that well-used 1989 book, has teamed with another longtime horticulturist and garden writer, Tom Christopher, to create a volume that better matches the palette of plants packing the benches of today’s nurseries—and also better serves gardeners in the hot, humid Southeast, not just cooler and drier regions, something the earlier book didn’t.  (I’m sharing a copy in the latest giveaway; enter at the bottom of the page.)Their new book is “Essential Perennials: The Complete Reference to 2700 Perennials for the Home Garden,” and it is a collaboration with a special backstory: Ruth, a British-trained horticulturi

Best of all: Even the frogboys, kings of my kingdom, give sedums a thumbs (well, whatever their digits are called) up. Have a look at some of the colorful faces who ask nothing and offer so much, succulent members of the genus Sedum, in a slideshow of favorite stonecrops.A couple of them already have profiles of their own here, such as the tall blue-green ‘Matrona,’ and the ground-hugging sunshine-colored ‘Angelina,’ both plants I would order if I didn’t already have them.‘Angelina’ profile ‘Matrona’ profile Click the first thumbnail to start the show, and toggle from slide to slide using the

Since 2011, Timothy has worked at Untermyer Park and Gardens in Yonkers, New York, which is becoming a horticultural destination for keen gardeners wanting inspiration–and a getaway for anyone just wanting to be surrounded by bold, contemporary plantings in a dramatic, historic setting. The Untermyer Gardens Conservancy is a non-profit organization collaborating with the City of Yonkers to facilitate the garden’s restoration (details on tours and how to visit otherwise are at the bottom of this page).In case you’re wondering: that garden has many vivid miles to go before it sleeps for winter. I even saw the phrase “floral fireworks” (such as the crape myrtles and hydrangeas in the right-hand photo below) used to describe it at the end of August, and there are plenty of foliage fireworks, too.Timothy and I worked together for years at “Martha Stewart Living” magazine, and he has been a gardener at the famed Wave Hill in New York City, and at the Garden Conservancy project called Rocky Hills

IAM LOOKING FOR ANY BRIGHT SPOTS ABOUT NOW, as the mid-October-looking garden surfaces in this driest September.  A couple of easy, big perennials—Lespedeza thunbergii (above), the bush clover, and some favorite Aralias (including Aralia cordata and A.

I doubt that Broken Arrow, founded by Dick and Sally Jaynes in 1984 in Hamden, Connecticut, needs much introduction—especially lately, as they were just featured in a “New York Times” piece by my former colleague Anne Raver. As Anne mentioned in that article, Adam (now 33 years old) used to buy plants at Broken Arrow as a teen-ager; now he’s their Propagation and Plant Development Manager.In the latter role, he’s the kind of particular guy who goes looking for a winterberry holly that shows off even without its fruit on (gold-splashed foliage, anyone?); who has such a passion for witch hazels that the nursery now offers 45 cultivars; who tracked down a pink-flowered Stewartia and….but let him tell you:The Q&A With Adam WheelerQ. So what does it take to catch the eye of the guy whose job is to go around looking for new things to add into Broken Arrow’s already very sophisticated product mix? You must see a l

IT’S ALL HITS, ALL THE TIME here at the garden, or at least it is this time of year. Meet more of my beloved companions (click to get to know each one)…and hurry, the next gang will be showing up and showing off at any minute now.

The plant in question, an East Asian native, is Codonopsis lanceolata (and don’t ask me how I even remember such trivia, when more days than not I can’t remember what tool I was going to get by the time I stand up to walk toward the barn). C. lanceolata, the bonnet bellflower is (no surprise) a Campanula relative.Though virtually nobody in these parts grows it, you can: Asiatica Nursery sold it, and Digging Dog has its blue-flowered cousin, C. clematidea

LET THE LONGING BEGIN. Frost finally hit Friday, with two more visits since, bringing many things gradually to their knees.

WITH A WEEK OF DAYS NEAR 80, the garden has moved ahead fast (perhaps too fast). No rain in sight, but blossoms everywhere, including these shot today.

This Japanese woodlander spreads to create thick mats of scalloped, blue-green, fuzzy foliage, from which erupt (and I think that’s exactly the word) orchid-pink flowers in early spring on 6- or 8-inch stems. It is never shy, and given part shade and a humusy soil it will romp…but in the nicest way.Arrowhead Alpines Nursery sometimes sells it. Once you’ve got it, there will be plenty for a lifetime (and friends). I’ve read a

And then, this year, came ‘Bellfire’ (top and bottom photos) a supposedly more upright (to 24 inches) and genteel creature, a first cousin of ‘Bonfire’ and from the same New Zealand breeders. My plants are still so small I don’t have much to show or photograph, but as I say, all the signs are encouraging. They’re a little floppy yet due to their youth and the endless rain we’ve suffered. This is one I’d snap up at the midsummer sales and try to carry over, if you can find it, a potential investment plant like ‘Bonfire’ turned out to be.What begonia currently has your attention, and if you’ve known it for awhile, do you have any tips to share about making it a permanent member of the family? Do tell.Categoriesannuals &

This compact peony is sited in my garden beneath an old magnolia, with various woodlanders, and seems fairly happy, producing multiple blooms per stem over a couple of weeks. But this is hardly the equivalent of the steppes or an alpine meadow I’m offering. Read: In more sun it would be more prolific. The flowers, perhaps 2 to 3 inches across, are nodding, and though mine are magenta, the species ranges from that to paler pinks and even white.Now that I have read up on it and its origins in an old e-newsletter from the Canadian peony specialists LaPivoinerie D’Aoust, I think I am moving my plant this fall, to a slightly sunnier spot, to get more of the good stuff. Seneca Hills sells plan

YES, YES, I KNOW: I have already told you I love hellebores. While waiting for mine to reach full bloom, I took an online tour this very cold morning of other hellebore plantings that are enviably farther along.

I ‘VE GOT SUNSHINE, though it’s cold outside, and hardly like the month of May. The golden-leaved plants that are a backbone of the garden are seeing me through.

My clump of ‘Sagae,’ whose highly textural, blue-green foliage is suffused with a warm cream from the edges splashing inward, is probably 3 or 4 feet across now, heading for a maximum of about 6. This is a statement plant: big, bold, beautiful, about 30 inches tall. I treasure it, and was glad to be affirmed in my judgment by the CHO, Tony, who calls ‘Sagae’, the “finest and most dramatic variegated hosta ever introduced.”Another personal must-have would be ‘June’ (above), the month of my birth and also one beautiful hosta. I have to describe it as not just blue but nearly turquoise in spring, the creamy yellow centers heating up to chartreuse against a vivid blue. I’ve found ‘June’ to be a strong grower, clumping up to about 3 feet across, and have made numerous divisions from my original plants.  As summer heats up, the ‘June’ foliage darkens to deep blue with medium green here, but it’s good-looking

We talked about the advantages of growing from seed, about extra-cooperative little plants like certain sedges and Erigeron (fleabane) that can beautify even tough spots like at the roots of trees, about using pots to announce garden areas and the signature plants of each of the distinct gardens at Wave Hill, too—like larkspur, to name one.the plants of wave hill, with louis bauerQ. Glad to have you on the show, Louis.A. Thanks for asking me.Q. Thank you for saying yes because I need a little help with my plantsmanship over here. [Laughter.] So for people who haven’t visited Wave Hill, which is a must stop for any keen gardener, do you want to just give us the teeny version of why we need tocome visit—a little bit about Wave Hill?A. Well it really i

PEOPLE WHO KNOW ME know I say over and again that I am not a lover of white flowers. (Like all of us, I say a lot of stupid things.) But then I look around and, surprise, I have a whole lot of them.

It’s just a start; some things aren’t even planted yet, and nothing has grown in, of course. But I wanted you to see what I’m trying (and tell me what caught your fancy for containers this year). Click on the first thumbnail to start the slideshow, then toggle from slide to slide using the arrows beside each caption. Enjoy.Other Timely Mid-June TopicsPots don’t need to contain soil; they can be mini water gardens. Here’s how. As we watch the spring garden crumple, remember: Nothing lasts (and that’s OK). Which oregano is the one that tastes good, please? So confusing! I first formally “met” doodler Andre Jordan last June. Here’s the doodle that drew me to him. Categoriesannuals & perennials container gardeningTagsMargaret Roach

If you said Heuchera, you’re right. Perhaps you’re going to reshuffle some shady beds this spring, and know that Heuchera, with their great foliage, can help make garden pictures work–but wonder which ones, and how best to use them. I invited George Coombs, trial garden manager at the must-visit Mt. Cuba Center in Delaware, with 50 acres of native-plant display gardens and 500 acres of natural land, back to the radio show to help make the best choices and grow them to perfection.George knows from Heuchera, having trialed 83 varieties side by side (the exhaustive results are in this pdf). “I say to people, ‘I’m doing Consumer Reports for plants,'” he explains. Though there are countless varieties on the market, many are duplicative in appearance or just not distinctive. “I can honestly say that when it

YOU KNOW THE WAY A BEST FRIEND wants to know the details of your latest intrigue, based on whatever the friend likes most about objects of intrigue herself. (Forgive me, gentlemen; just swap all the pronouns in this post to suit.) “How are his manners?” she’ll ask, and “His sense of humor? His smile?” Here’s what I’d ask if I were your best friend and you had your eye on someone new, especially in the perennial department: How are his leaves? It’s leaves after all that dictate a plant’s character, hanging on as they do longer than most any flower.

The ruby throats, the only species of hummingbird that breeds in Eastern North America, always come back from Central America at the same moment as my bleeding hearts start blooming. No mystical or evolutionary correlation, just a colorful coincidence: two of nature’s most unusual creations having a moment together. They’re in the tall verbena (above) and elsewhere now.The bleeding heart, Dicentra spectabilis, is hardly the traditional trumpet-shaped flower hummingbirds are said to favor, nor is it red (reportedly their favorite color). It’s just one of the plants in my palette that has prov

A NY FLOWER WOULD BE HARD-PRESSED TO COMPETE with the two most colorful ferns in the garden here, which have been showing off since the first crozier poked through the soil surface in early May and won’t stop till very late fall. No wonder I grow so many Japanese painted ferns and autumn ferns; they make shade gardening look easy, adding heavy doses of purple and silver or coral and gold, respectively, and never asking for so much as a deadheading in return.Japanese painted fern (Athyrium niponicum ‘Pictum’, Zones 5-8) is well-known to most gardeners the last decade, a showy thing with varying proportions and intensities of silvery-gray and purple coloration on its parts.

MORE, MORE, MORE. Hard to keep up with things, with lilacs starting and crabapples coming into bloom and all of it.

T HE FIRST RACE AT CUPCAKE DOWNS always has the same winner by a length: Helleborus niger, the Christmas rose, the first perennial to bloom, no matter what. This year is no exception (which is what “no matter what” means, perhaps you guessed) and here it is.