Fairy Crown #17 – Beebalm & Yellow Daisies at the Lake

This is truly my favourite time of year in the meadows at our cottage on Lake Muskoka. Why?  Because the flower variety is at peak and the bees are at their most plentiful and buzzy. So my 17th fairy crown for August 5th celebrates the pollinator favourites here, including the champion, pink-flowered wild beebalm or bergamot (Monarda fistulosa), as well as yellow false oxeye (Heliopsis helianthoides), biennial blackeyed susan (Rudbeckia hirta), grey-headed coneflower (Ratibida pinnata) with its dark cones, mauve hoary vervain (Verbena stricta), oregano (Origanum vulgare) and a few of my weedy Queen Anne’s lace flowers (Dauca carota).  

I call my wild places on either side of the cottage ‘Monarda Meadows’ because wild beebalm (M. fistulosa) is the principal perennial there and in all the beds and wild places around our house, where it grows as a companion to Heliopsis helianthoides, below.

There’s a reason wild beebalm is called that; it’s a literal balm for the bees, specifically bumble bees whose tongues can easily probe the florets! 

Another frequent visitor to wild beebalm flowers is the clearwing hummingbird moth (Hemaris thysbe).

False oxeye (Heliopsis helianthoides) is one of the most aggressive natives I grow. I’m happy to leave it where it lands, but it often sulks in very sandy, sunny spots when summers are hot and dry.  It’s much better in the rich soil at the bottom of my west meadow, and I try to ignore all the red aphids that line the stems in certain summers.

But heliopsis also attracts its share of native bees, including tiny Augochlora pura, below.

Unlike the blackeyed susan I wrote about in my last blog, R. fulgida var. sullivantii ‘Goldsturm’, the ones I have at the lake are all the drought-tolerant native Rudbeckia hirta, below, with a long-horned Melissodes bee.  Biennials, they have seeded themselves around generously since 2003, when I first sowed masses of seed (along with red fescue grass) on the bare soil of the meadows surrounding our new house.

Sometimes they manage to arrange themselves very fetchingly, as with the perfumed Orienpet lily ‘Conca d’Or’, below.

Other times, they hang with the other tough native in my crown, hoary vervain (Verbena stricta).  Both are happy in the driest places on our property where they flower for an exceedingly long time….

…… as you can see from this impromptu bouquet handful featuring the vervain with earlier bloomers, coreopsis, butterfly milkweed and oxeye daisy.

Bumble bees love Verbena stricta.

The other yellow daisy in flower now — hiding at the top of my fairy crown — is grey-headed coneflower (Ratibida pinnata), also a favourite of bumble bees and small native bees in the meadows.  A vigorous self-seeder, it nevertheless does not always land in soil that is moisture-retentive enough for its needs; in that case, like heliopsis above, it wilts badly. But I love its tall stems bending like willows in the breeze.

Also in my fairy crown is a familiar hardy herb that fell from a pot on my deck long ago and found a happy spot in the garden bed below:  Greek oregano (Origanum vulgare var. hirtum).  

Its tiny flowers are also favoured by small pollinators.

The last component of my midsummer fairy crown is the common umbellifer Queen Anne’s lace (Daucus carota).  As much as we think of this as an unwanted invasive weed in North America, it was reassuring to see a native potter wasp, Ancistrocerus, making use of its small flowers.

As always, my fairy crown has a lovely second act as a bouquet.

Finally, I made a 2-minute musical video that celebrates these plants that form such an important ecological chapter in my summer on Lake Muskoka.

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Are you new to my fairy crowns?  Here are the links to my previous 15 blogs:
#1 – Spring Awakening
#2 – Little Blossoms for Easter
#3 – The Perfume of Hyacinths 
#4 – Spring Bulb Extravaganza
#5 – A Crabapple Requiem
#6 – Shady Lady
#7 – Columbines & Wild Strawberries on Lake Muskoka
#8 – Lilac, Dogwood & Alliums
#9 – Borrowed Scenery & an Azalea for Mom
#10 – June Blues on Lake Muskoka
#11 – Sage & Catmint for the Bees
#12 – Penstemons & Coreopsis in Muskoka
#13 – Ditch Lilies & Serviceberries
#14 – Golden Yarrow & Orange Milkweed
#15 – Echinacea & Clematis
#16 – A Czech-German-All American Blackeyed Susan

Fairy Crown 16 – A Czech-German-All American Blackeyed Susan

My 16th Fairy Crown for August 1st is a simple affair featuring just one plant:  Rudbeckia fulgida var. sullivantii ‘Goldsturm’.  If it looks a little lonely, it’s because its normal garden partners had either already been fairy crown ingredients (hello, purple coneflower) or weren’t quite in flower yet (liatris and perovskia).  But I think it gives a rather regal impression, as if a fairy queen had landed near a midwest cornfield and tried on the local wildflowers for size.

Speaking of American wildflowers, this particular blackeyed susan – or shining coneflower, as it is also known – is possibly the most widely-grown species of any North American taxon, given that it made its way back to our shores via the kind of circuitous route that features botanical discoveries, far-flung horticultural relationships, European plant propagation and the success of the American public relations machine.   

I don’t always look at nomenclature, but since my fairy crown only has one ingredient, let’s explore this one.  Rudbeckia.  Even though it is a North American genus in the Asteraceae family, Carl Linnaeus – who in 1753 in his Species Plantarum assigned binomial names to all known plants — knew of it from the earliest plant explorers to leave Europe and gather new world seeds, cuttings and herbarium specimens. He named the genus after his Swedish mentor and patron, Olof Rudbeck the Younger (1860-1740), professor of botany at Uppsala University whose children he had also tutored. 

In his dedication, Linnaeus wrote:  “So long as the earth shall survive and as each spring shall see it covered with flowers, the Rudbeckia will preserve your glorious name. I have chosen a noble plant in order to recall your merits and the services you have rendered, a tall one to give an idea of your stature, and I wanted it to be one which branched and which flowered and fruited freely, to show that you cultivated not only the sciences but also the humanities. Its rayed flowers will bear witness that you shone among savants like the sun among the stars; its perennial roots will remind us that each year sees you live again through new works. Pride of our gardens, the Rudbeckia will be cultivated throughout Europe and in distant lands where your revered name must long have been known. Accept this plant, not for what it is but for what it will become when it bears your name.”  The “type species” representing the genus is biennial blackeyed susan (Rudbeckia hirta), below, which I wrote about in my “songscape” blog Brown Eyed Girl(s), honouring Van Morrison.  The other two species named by Linnaeus are Rudbeckia laciniata and R. triloba. The remaining 22 species had other authors, with R. fulgida, i.e. orange coneflower being described by the Kew-based English botanist William Aiton (1731-1793).

But back to my crown now; the correct Latin name of the species is Rudbeckia fulgida var. sullivantii. Sullivant’s coneflower, native from New Jersey west to Illinois and south to North Carolina and Missouri.  The taxon rank “var.” indicates a variation of orange coneflower that was either described by or honoured Ohio-based botanist William S. Sullivant (1803-73), below.  He later became a renowned bryologist, or moss expert.  Another popular native variant of orange coneflower is R. fulgida var. deamii.

At some point, seed of Sullivant’s coneflower made its way to Europe and the botanical garden of Austria’s University Graz.  From there, it was distributed to Gebrueder Schütz who grew the plants at his nursery in the Czech Republic. In 1937, Heinrich Hagemann saw the “a glorious stand of the plants” there and brought them back to his boss, Karl Foerster, below, at his nursery in Potsdam, Germany. Foerster was so impressed with the plant’s floriferous nature that he gave it the cultivar name ‘Goldsturm’ (German for “gold storm”).  World War II delayed its introduction to commerce until 1949 and by the 1970s it was being grown widely in Europe and North America.

Erich Braun – Scan von einem Mittelformat-Negativ 6 x 6
Karl Foerster in his garden 28. September 1967

By the late 1970s, the German-born landscape architect Wolfgang Oehme and his partner James Van Sweden would use ‘Goldsturm’ along with ornamental grasses in large masses for their renowned “new American landscapes” inspired by the Great Plains.  It was pictured with them on the cover of their 1997 book, ‘Gardening with Nature’.

Its popularity with American garden centres would result in it being named the 1999 Perennial Plant of the Year by the Perennial Plant Association (PPA).   And many gardeners did what I have done, which is to mix it with purple coneflowers (Echinacea purpurea).

It is prominent in my front yard pollinator garden in Toronto…

…. where it is only moderately successful at attracting bees, including honey bees, because when echinacea is in flower, it plays second fiddle in the pollinator department.

Unlike biennial blackeyed susans (R. hirta) which flowers on single stems (and is in my next fairy crown!) the stems of  ‘Goldsturm’ clump together and function as a mass of flowers 36 inches (90 cm) in height and 24 inches (60 cm) in width.  It also likes richer soil and more moisture than than R. hirta.

In my garden it starts flowering soon after the echinacea begings to bloom and when the sedum ‘Autumn Joy’ is still green….

…… and continues flowering along with blue perovskia and other plants until the sedum turns red.