Black for Garden Drama

Posted on August 29, 2016 by Janet

Late August brings us into the dog days of summer, and there’s nothing that cures a dog day like a dose of drama. That’s why I reserved this month for BLACK! (And thanks to a little summer travel, I’m just getting in under the August wire.)

Of course, no plant leaf or flower is completely black. Inspected closely, there is always green (for photosynthesis) or dark red, purple or deep bronze underlying the apparent dark floral pigments. But there’s a rich roster of plants that can be called upon to inject a little black magic into the garden, whether it’s with dark-as-night foliage or betwitchingly black blossoms. And for my money, no one offers up the design potential of black like Vancouver’s Van Dusen Botanical Garden. Here’s their black and gold border, with barberries, colocasias, sedums, eucomis and black mondo grass, to name just a few. Isn’t it lovely? And doesn’t that dark foliage look spectacular paired with chartreuse?

Here’s a closer look at a portion of Van Dusen’s wonderful border, with a black taro, ‘Black Tropicanna’ (or perhaps ‘Australia) canna and ‘Brunette’ snakeroot (Actaea racemosa ‘Brunette’).

Mondo grass (Ophiopogon planiscapus ‘Nigrescens’) is one of the darkest ‘black’ leafed plants, and one of the most dramatic for pairing with bright colours. I love the way Victoria’s Horticulture Centre of the Pacific uses it in combination with Sedum ruprestre ‘Angelina’, seen below in spring when it’s still gold.

Here’s how it looks at HCP with golden oregano (Origanum vulgare ‘Aureum’).

At gorgeous Chanticleer Gardens in Wayne, Pennsylvania, the Japanese Garden employs Japanese black mondo grass as a dark edging under bamboo ‘fencing’.

Other dark, grass-like plants include fountain grass, particularly Pennisetum ‘Princess Caroline’ and ‘Vertigo’, below, shown with orange zinnias at New York’s Conservatory Garden in Central Park.

And here is Pennisetum ‘Princess Caroline’ doubling down on black with the ornamental pepper Capsicum annuum ‘Black Pearl’, a fabulous black annual.

Black and red look spectacular together, too, as demonstrated by Capsicum annuum ‘Black Pearl’ paired with annual red Salvia splendens.

The best spring bulb for injecting a little early-season black is Tulipa ‘Queen of Night’. I love this one, and use it liberally in my own spring garden. Here it is at Toronto’s Casa Loma bringing depth to citrus colours….

…. and at Toronto’s Spadina House as a pretty partner to pink….

…. and echoing the dark foliage of ‘Diabolo’ ninebark (Physocarpus opulifolius) at the Toronto Botanical Garden.

Shortly after the tulip season comes columbine season, and there’s nothing more dramatic than a black, pleated form of Aquilegia vulgaris.

One of my favourite dark-leafed shrubs is Black Lace elderberry (Sambucus nigra ‘Eva’), seen below with a pink Phlox paniculata at Northwest Garden Nursery in Eugene, Oregon.

For some reason, annual sweet potato vine (Ipomoea batatas) lends itself genetically to black colouration. Here is ‘Ace of Spades’ with yellow rieger begonias in Toronto gardener Shari Ezyk’s lovely urn.

And adding a dark carpet to sea oats (Chasmanthium latifolium) at the Conservatory Garden, in New York.

This is the fancy-leafed ‘Blackie’, with ‘Lemon Gem’ marigolds at Toronto Botanical.

Another species that has benefited ‘darkly’ from plant breeding is tropical taro or elephant ears (Colocasia esculenta). Here we see the big leaves of ‘Royal Hawaiian Black Coral’ exploding with a canna lily out of a sea of chartreuse foliage at Montreal Botanical Garden.

Black taros are also used beautifully with other tropicals at Nancy Goodwin’s Montrose Garden in Hillsborough, North Carolina.

There are some good black petunias, including yellow-striped ‘Phantom’.

Sometimes we forget that seedheads can have visual impact in a late-season garden, especially when they’re as dark as Rudbeckia maxima, shown in front of Calamagrostis acutiflora at Wave Hill in the Bronx.

Purple coneflower has dark seedheads, too. Here it is behind the golden fall foliage of Amsonia tabernaemontana in autumn.

And don’t forget the zingy seedhead possibilities of blackeyed susans!

We can also add black with furnishings, of course. Here’s a modern black steel fence I fell in love with at the Corning Museum of Glass in upstate New York.

And this black-stained garden arch is the height of design sophistication (as are black fences).

Black chairs? What about using some black stain and artistic flourish to turn a Muskoka (Adirondack) chair into a work of art, as my artist son Jon Davis did for me many years ago.

Even a simple black bistro chair can up the dark drama quotient, especially if it’s in renowned garden guru Tom Hobb’s former Vancouver garden.

In the black accessories department, you can’t go wrong with a simple black obelisk, especially when it chums with a pink daylily.

Moving to containers, black adds a dollop of sophistication via this beautiful trio of planters at Toronto Botanical Garden. No other colour would work as well with the flamenco-red flowers and foliage, all designed by horticulturist Paul Zammit.

I’ve written about Paul’s creative container designs before, but he does have a special skill for knowing just what to use, like these kitchen herbs (parsley, sage), grasses (carex, hakonechloa) and orange calibrachoas in a run of basic black iron window boxes.

I’ll finish my contemplation of black in the garden with containers from my favourite public garden, Chanticleer. Here’s a lovely black urn that repeats the black-red theme of some of the photos above, with red calibrachoa. Stunning, isn’t it?

And finally, a half-dozen statuesque black planters that are as much about defining space in this Chanticleer garden, as they are containing plants.

August in New York’s Conservatory Garden

Posted on August 28, 2016 by Janet

It was a steaming hot August afternoon in New York City. I’d arrived just hours before from Toronto with three days of area garden viewing and photography on my agenda. I hadn’t made plans for today, but then I remembered a city garden I hadn’t visited for more than a decade. There were still hours of daylight, albeit crushingly humid hours with temperatures in the mid-90s. So I filled my water bottle, slung my camera bag over my shoulder and headed out of my hotel (Hotel Boutique at Grand Central), conveniently located near Grand Central Station and the 42^nd Street Subway. The subway tunnel felt like a tropical jungle, but it was nothing compared to the inside of the subway car heading north, whose air-conditioning was broken. “59-68-77-86”, I counted down the stations, fanning myself madly and hoping I wouldn’t faint before arriving at my stop. When I climbed the stairs to 96^th Street (the dividing line between Manhattan’s Upper East Side to the south and Spanish Harlem to the north), the humidity was even higher. I’d only walked a block or two westward towards Central Park before the first fat raindrops fell. Fortunately, I’d tucked my umbrella into my bag and as the rain became a torrent, I pulled my camera bag closer to me and hurried on. By the time I’d crossed Fifth Avenue and walked north along the park to 105^th, people were running out and taking shelter under trees or dashing along the sidewalk to their cars or buses. I, on the other hand, was heading into the park, and as I entered the Conservatory Garden through the Vanderbilt Gate, the rain magically abated and the lawns and hedges steamed in the late day heat. Ahead of me was the formal Italianate garden with its lush lawn and fountain. In May, those crabapple trees on the sides are fluffy clouds of pink and the pergola in the distance is wreathed in wisteria.

I watched a young girl playing in the fountain’s cooling spray.

The Italianate garden is in the middle, one of three sections that make up the 6-acre Conservatory Garden, which is named for the lavish greenhouse that occupied the site from 1899 to 1934, before it was officially opened as a garden in 1937. After the second world war, the garden was increasingly neglected; by the 1970s it was a derelict place Under Central Park Administrator Elizabeth Barlow Rogers and renowned New York designer and public gardens champion Lynden Miller (who also did Bryant Park and numerous other urban spaces), the gardens were completely renovated and reopened in 1987.

At the north end is the French garden….

.. with its low broderie parterres….

… and the Untermyer Fountain, “Three Dancing Maidens”, a 1947 donation to Central Park from the children of famed New York lawyer Samuel Untermyer, whose Yonkers estate is now a conservancy open to the public.

But as a plant-lover, I was interested in revisiting the southernmost section, the English Garden. To get there I walked past the perimeter of the French garden, with its crabapple allées. A few visitors took shelter from the last raindrops under their umbrella.

I passed a raised garden filled with a tapestry-like assortment of luscious tropicals.

Then I was walking into the English Garden under a magnificent sourwood tree (Oxydendrum arboreum), its tiny, pendulous, white blossoms alive with bumble bees. Trees, shrubs and various perennials act as leafy enclosure in the outer beds in the concentric arrangement of hedge-backed plantings in Lynden Miller’s original design. The current curator of the English garden is Diane Schaub, whose talent is very much on display here. (See note at bottom of my blog).

Below is one of Lynden Miller’s favourite shrubs: oak-leaf hydrangea (Hydrangea quercifolia), as the big panicles take on their tawny autumn hues.

The outer bed below features Japanese anemones (Anemone x hybrida), an August mainstay, with cascading Japanese forest grass (Hakonechloa macra ‘Aureola’) in the foreground. Mid-border is another Lynden Miller trademark: a clipped purple barberry globe (Berberis thunbergii), adding a sculpted architectural note. (One of my favourite photos from a visit here in the 1990s was one of these globes graced with deep-violet Clematis durandii.)

Here is a closeup of Japanese anemone with the delicate flowers of Thalictrum rochebrunianum.

White coneflowers (Echinacea) brighten the shade-dappled outer bed under the trees. There’s a lovely colour echo of the cones with the dark foliage of the black bugbane beside it (Actaea racemosa Atropurpurea Group).

Post-rain, the subtle baby-powder fragrance of summer phlox (Phlox paniculata) and the perfume of hosta flowers wafted in the enclosed spaces in the garden.

But as lovely as the mixed perennial-shrub beds were in the outer rings, it was the inner hedged beds in the English Garden that beckoned me. They offered a master class in the use of annuals and tropicals to create exquisite designs that can be changed every year. But these aren’t your grandma’s annuals; there are no impatiens, geraniums or petunias in the garden. Instead, you see statuesque plants in lovely colour combinations that rival any perennial border. The bed below offered fabulous ideas for combining chartreuse foliage with oranges and bronzes.

Here’s a closer look at the inspired pairing of Cuphea ‘David Verity’ — one of many ‘zing’ plants — with a charteuse colocasia.

Who could dislike stiff, old canna lilies when they do THIS in the late afternoon sun? (Especially when paired with bronze fennel flowers and a luscious azure-blue Salvia guaranitica.)

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Tender grasses add a punch of colour, too. Below is Pennisetum setaceum ‘Fireworks’.

Hedges of Japanese holly (Ilex crenata) and euonymus act as a permanent framework in the inner rings, and both sides are planted with annuals in classic colour combinations. The bed below…….

…..featured a lovely pairing of chartreuse ‘Gay’s Delight’ coleus (Plectranthus scutellarioides) and purple Verbena bonariensis — another good ‘zing’ plant.

Deep burgundy-blacks — like Dahlia ‘Mystic Illusion’, front, and the grass Pennisetum ‘Vertigo’, below — added depth to a dark-foliage border.

Exploring all the inner beds was a challenge. Just when I thought I’d seen them all, I’d turn a corner and spot something entirely new! I loved the way this heuchera (maybe ‘Black Taffeta’?) anchored the design below.

In some hands, pink flowers can be just too cotton-candy sweet. But Diane Schaub used a deft touch, below, to incorporate the pink spires of Agastache cana ‘Heather Queen’ and the zingy pom-poms of Gomphrena ‘Fireworks’ and purple Verbena bonariensis into a pale-green matrix of tropical plants, including variegated Furcraea foetida ‘Mediopicta’, centre, and variegated plectranthus (P. forsteri ‘Green on Green’), right.

Stronger pinks like the verbena, below, were partnered with darker greens, like Colocasia esculenta ‘Blue Hawaii’.

I loved the combination, below, of Gomphrena ‘Fireworks’ and blue pitcher sage (Salvia azurea). Such good clear colours.

Sometimes horns would honk nearby and I would be reminded that I was in a leafy enclave a stone’s throw from one of the most famous streets in the world: Fifth Avenue!

Unusual annual pairings were everywhere. Below is Perilla frutescens with airy Ammi visnaga ‘Green Mist’.

And I adored this vignette of magenta-pink Gomphrena ‘Fireworks’ with lacy centaurea, a deep-red salvia and coleus.

I was very impressed with the way tropical shrub Tibouchina urvilleana, below, was used in the purple border. It looked perfectly at home with magenta Gomphrena globosa and dark pink zinnias.

Finally, that concentric maze of flowery beds led me to the intimate centre of the English Garden, with its enclosing borders and a pink-flowered crepe myrtle (Lagerstromeia indica). Benches were arranged so visitors could…….

…. relax and enjoy an intimate view of the Burnett Memorial Fountain, the centrepiece of the English Garden. Sculpted in 1936-7 by Bessie Vonnoh (1872-1955), it honours children’s book author Frances Eliza Hodgson Burnett (1849-1924) and depicts the children Mary and Dickons from her classic Secret Garden.

I paused for a moment in the secret garden, but towering storm clouds were building in the sky to the west and it was time to head back to my hotel.

I bade farewell to this lovely secret garden and strolled out to catch a southbound bus to midtown. What a lovely first evening for my short New York stay.

** Thanks to my online friend Marie Viljoen (66 Square Feet) for her 2015 Gardenista article on the English Garden, which provided a few of the plant names for my photos above.

Cordial Chartreuse on the Garden Menu

Posted on March 14, 2016 by Janet

When you mix green with yellow in equal portions, you get a mountain range in the southeast of France (Massif de la Chartreuse); the Carthusian Monks of the region, whose order was founded in 1084; “charterhouse”, the English translation of chartreuse (and the designation for the Carthusian monasteries which were chartered, or given financial support, by the Duke of Burgundy); and the cordial Green Chartreuse, brewed by said monks from distilled alcohol aged with approximately 130 flowers, plants and herbs featuring cinnamon, mace, lemon balm, dried hyssop flower tops, peppermint, thyme, costmary, arnica flowers and angelica roots, among many other ingredients. The eponymous colour of that liqueur, said to be the “elixir of life” when its recipe was granted to the monks in a 1605 manuscript, is the luminous colour I want to blog about today.

Charteuse, lime, golden-green, khaki…. In reality, there is a broad range of yellowed greens and a broad range of foliage plants that fit the description. But when that dollop of yellow is added to the green (well, when the plant rejects certain yellow light waves along with the green ones, as it powers photosynthesis), it results in a plant that will add a pool of shimmering light to the garden, especially to shady corners. Perhaps it’s a perennial like Aralia cordata ‘Sun King’, below.

Or a tree like the ‘Frisia’ black locust (Robinia pseudoacacia), where it’s hardy.

Or perhaps a shrub like the beautiful Japanese spirea ‘Ogon’ (Spiraea thunbergii), below, at Chanticleer Garden in Wayne, Pennsylvania.

It might be the delightful ‘Hearts of Gold’ redbud tree (Cercis canadensis), below, also at Chanticleer (and kept ‘stooled’ or pruned to the ground each spring to promote bright new growth). In front of it is another excellent chartreuse-leafed shrub, Magic Carpet spirea, (Spiraea japonica ‘Walbuma’) with its cerise-pink flowers.

Then there’s the lovely, old-fashioned perennial Filipendula ulmaria ‘Aurea’, shown below in a border at Chanticleer’s Tennis Garden.

It’s easy to use perennials to add that shot of lime punch, especially if you select from the huge roster of hostas that fit the bill. Here are just a few ideas.

I was wowed by the sumptuous, big Hosta montana ‘Aureo-Marginata’ in the Montreal Botanical Garden’s fabulous shade garden. Here it is with Phlox divaricata keeping it company.

And in my own garden, a trio of big ‘Zounds’ hostas lights up an east-facing border, along with old-fashioned yellow loosestrife (Lysimachia punctata).

Another workhouse chartreuse perennial is the bleeding heart Lamprocapnos spectabilis ‘Gold Heart’ (formerly Dicentra). Here it is in bloom at VanDusen Botanical Garden in Vancouver with the dark-red tulip ‘Queen of Night’. What a gorgeous combo!

And here it is in the Shade Garden at Montreal Botanical with the feathery (and unusual) annual Asparagus tenuifolius. Talk about a hit of sunshine.

One of my favourite new shrubs is the Tiger Eye sumac (Rhus typhina ‘Bailmer’). I grow it in my own garden and love its chartreuse leaves in summer, that turn a delicious apricot-orange in autumn. But I adored this border at Montreal Botanical Garden, where it served as a brilliant backdrop for a sensuous ensemble of plants, including goldenrod, Tuscan kale, heuchera, little bluestem grass and ‘Cherry Brandy’ rudbeckias.

Euphorbias, anyone? Chartreuse needn’t just be leaves, either. This was a simple but striking spring pairing under trees at Montreal Botanical Garden: ostrich ferns (Matteucia struthiopteris) with marsh spurge (Euphorbia palustris).

A massed planting of lady’s mantle (Alchemilla mollis) in flower offers a spectacular lime punch, especially when paired with other June beauties like the alliums and catmint (Nepeta racemosa) co-starring here at the Toronto Botanical Garden. And note that drift of ‘Isla Gold’ tansy (Tanacetum vulgare) behind the lady’s mantle, another stellar chartreuse plant.

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Speaking of the Toronto Botanical Garden, every year I enjoy the way annual plants are used in fabulous container arrangements (by the uber-talented Paul Zammit). That was especially true of this big, tropical-themed urn, with its frilly, variegated ‘Indian Dunes’ pelargoniums. Look how perfectly those wine-red markings in the leaves echo the spiky ‘Red Star’ cordyline in the centre.

I also loved this line of window boxes at the Toronto Botanical Garden, with their repeated use of the Japanese forest grass ‘All Gold’ (Hakonechloa macra), punctuated by the tender ‘Goldcrest’ Monterey cypresses (Cupressus macrocarpa) behind.

The more common Hakonechloa macra ‘Aureola’, shown with Virginia bluebells (Mertensia virginica) below, is no slouch in the looks department either.

And what about this delightful, chartreuse double-bill in Shari Ezyk’s Etobicoke, Ontario garden? Hakonechloa macra ‘Aureola’ with Lamium maculatum ‘Beedham’s White’.

Another chartreuse grass I adore is Bowles’ Golden Sedge (Carex elata ‘Aurea’). Here it is at VanDusen Botanical Garden with Stachys macrantha ‘Superba’.

There are many chartreuse annuals that will add oomph to a border or container. In my own garden, I’ve tried several over the years in my deck pots, like this golden oregano (Origanum vulgare ‘Aureum’) accenting orange, pink and red geraniums.

In Marnie Wright’s Bracebridge, Ontario country garden, the popular ‘Margarita’ sweet potato vine (Ipomoea batatas) looks particularly charming in a rustic windowbox. I love the way it pairs with the orange blackeyed susan vine (Thunbergia alata).

Another sweet potato vine that acts as a good foil is Ipomoea batatas ‘Illusion Emerald Lace’, shown below with blue and purple salvias at the Montreal Botanical Garden.

Apart from plants, of course, there are myriad ways to add a splash of chartreuse via furnishings, stains and paints, and funky little accents. No one does ‘funky colour’ better than Portland’s Nancy Goldman. Here she shows just how creative you can get with an old pair of party pumps. I love this idea.

Nancy’s garden has a fun party vibe, especially with the paper lanterns that go perfectly with that lime-green hosta below. And how cool paired with the blues.

You’re not always sure what you’re seeing in Nancy’s garden, so I’m not sure if this chartreuse rail really was meant to be a home for marbles. But it’s an eye-catcher!

After all this garden touring, let’s finish up by taking a rest in a pair of comfy chartreuse garden chairs nestled in the long grasses in Chanticleer’s Bell’s Run Woods. Time to put our feet up — and maybe try a sip of that flowery cordial crafted by those French monks. Bottoms up!

Garden Design Using White Flowers

Posted on January 31, 2016 by Janet

I promised you WHITE for January, so on the heels of my White Flowers for Sweet Perfume post, here are some rather random, eclectic and highly subjective observations on effective use of white flowers in garden design.

Personally, I’m not a big fan of monochrome gardens. All-white schemes, in particular, I find a little too sedate. But there is a place for them in a garden that 1) will be enjoyed in the evening, where the white flowers will pop out of the darkness; or 2) is a shady, mostly green area that will be enlivened by white flowers; or 3) features a large colour palette, but might benefit from a little corner of tranquility.

When white flowers are used almost exclusively, there should be a balancing framework of green foliage. And for green-and-white, no garden that I’ve seen does that crisp combination more beautifully than the elegant Beryl Ivey Knot Garden at the Toronto Botanical Garden. From spring through fall, the curving boxwood and yew parterres are filled with an assortment of white flowers. In spring, there’s a lovely mix of Anemone sylvestris ‘Snowdrop’, narcissus ‘Thalia’, and tall white tulips, including lily-flowered tulip ‘White Elegance’.

Here’s a closeup of that combination.

By June, the scene has changed and the main feature is the re-blooming white bearded iris ‘Immortality’.

Early summer features gorgeous white sages, including white meadow sage (Salvia nemorosa ‘Snow Hill’), one year mixed with biennial white clary sage (Salvia sclarea var. turkestanica ‘Alba’).

Later still come the coneflowers, usually a mix of Echinacea ‘White Swan’ with the regular purple coneflowers, and combined with white perennials like obedient plant (Physostegia virginiana ‘Alba’).

One summer, the knot garden featured fragrant flowering tobacco (Nicotiana alata) combined with tall white gaura. Here is how it looked as I strolled through it.

Apart from the Beryl Ivey Knot Garden, the TBG has many other beautiful display gardens featuring white flowers. Here’s another spring bulb ensemble I loved, this one starring the shimmering lily tulip ‘White Triumphator’ paired with dark ‘Queen of Night’ and peachy ‘Menton’.

What about this little white TBG vignette, against a protected inner wall in the Westview Terrace? Fragrant Daphne x burkwoodii ‘Carol Mackie’ with Viburnum rhytidophyllum.

And a little later in the season, this airy cloud of Bowman’s root (Porteranthus trifoliatus, formerly Gillenia trifoliata) is simply exquisite. What a great native plant!

I’m not fond of big blobs of white in a border – say, drifts of white phlox next to blobs of a contrasting-coloured perennial. I think it’s jarring. But I do love a subtle tracery of white etched along a border, so the eye is carried by its luminance right into the distance. The TBG’s Piet Oudolf-designed entry border features a clever repeat of white foxglove beardtongue (Penstemon digitalis), one of my very favourite penstemons. In this image, the brilliance is enhanced by the pale flowers of ‘Blue Angel’ hosta in the foreground, acting as an anchor. And isn’t it great with the zingy, wine-red knautias?

Here’s a closer look at this bee-friendly penstemon and its companions.

I love it so much (and it’s so easy), I’ve seeded it at my own cottage on Lake Muskoka, where it hangs out with yellow Coreopsis lanceolata and white (yes I know they’re exotic invasive) oxeye daisies (Leuchanthemum vulgare).

Back to the TBG now. Another great plant used in several places is the prairie native rattlesnake master (Eryngium yuccifolium). With its spiky, spherical, cream-white flowers, it adds a very interesting effect to a border. I love it with with Rudbeckia subtomentosa ‘Henry Eilers’ in the perennial border…..

….and with Russian sage (Perovskia atriplicifolia) and Astilbe tacquetii ‘Purpurlanz’ in the Oudolf border.

Isn’t that blue-and-white combo gorgeous? In fact, I collect photos of that seersucker-like pairing whenever I see it done well. Here’s Russian sage with fabulous white calamint (Calamintha nepeta ssp. nepeta), also at the TBG. (Just wait for the bees to descend on this duo!)

By the by, calamint is a fabulous addition to a border and enhances almost anything it’s placed beside, including ornamental grasses, silvery cardoon leaves, and a strong vertical plant like blazing star (Liatris spicata), below.

And any number of lovely blue-and-white spring combinations can be dreamed up with forget-me-nots (Myosotis sylvatica), but no one does that better than Victoria’s Butchart Gardens, here topping it with a lovely creamy-white lily-flowered tulip.

There are myriad ways to marry blue and white, in fact. Below are twelve of them!

Top row, left to right: white Anemone blanda with blue scilla (S. siberica); narcissus ‘Thalia’ with grape hyacinths (Muscari armeniacum); star-of-Bethlehem (Ornithogalum umbellatum) with forget-me-nots (Myosotis sylvatica); and bleeding heart (Dicentra spectabilis ‘Alba’) with forget-me-nots.
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Middle row: white ‘Festiva Maxima’ peony with false blue indigo (Baptisia australis); white blackeyed Susan vine (Thunbergia alata ‘Suzy White Black Eye’) with blue Convolvulus and white Nemesia; white spider flower (Cleome hassleriana ‘Sparkler White’ with blue mealycup sage (Salvia farinacea); and blue catmint (Nepeta racemosa) with white meadowsweet (Filipendula vulgaris).

Bottom row: Liatris spicata ‘Floristan White’ with Russian sage; white swamp hibiscus (Hibiscus moscheutos ‘Blue River II’ with a gorgeous blue shed door; white guara (Oenothera lindheimeri) dancing with Russian sage; and white autumn snakeroot (Actaea simplex) with ‘Arendsii’ autumn monkshood (Aconitum carmichaelii).

Another really versatile white-flowered perennial at the Toronto Botanical Garden is white Japanese burnet (Sanguisorba tenuifolia ‘Alba’). It’s difficult to explain how superb this tall perennial is at adding an interesting shape and texture to other late-season plants. The best way is to show you. Here it is with ‘Gateway” Joe Pye weed (Eupatorium maculatum) in the Oudolf border….

….and with equally quixotic (and long-blooming) Knautia macedonica…

…and finally, even as it loses its whiteness, it adds a lacy scrim to a brilliant fall ensemble of sneezeweed (Helenium autumnale) and goldenrod.

Three more quick combos from the TBG that feature white flowers. Here’s a panicle hydrangea (H. paniculata ‘Little Lamb’), below, that can look a bit top-heavy, given its short stature and those big flowers. But put a chorus line of annual Brazilian verbenas (V. bonariensis) in front of them, and they look brilliant.

Even though I said I didn’t like “blobs” of white in the border, you can’t get more va-voom than the big white swamp hibiscus (H. moscheutos) ‘Blue River II’. I love this pairing with goldenrod – I think I’d even love 10 of each!

Finally, a nice way to use a white astilbe such as A. ‘Diamond’, below, is to partner it with a good variegated hosta.

Speaking of variegated leaves, that’s the easiest way to add an elegant touch of white to the garden. Here is my own little deck garden in early June, a mass of the plain, old Hosta ‘Undulata’ with Azalea ‘White Cascade’.

A week or so later, the hostas switch partners (!!!) and cozy up to my rambling herbaceous Clematis recta ‘Purpurea’. I love this time in the garden, before the slugs get the hostas).

Toronto’s Spadina House Museum & Garden uses variegated hostas in an elegant pairing with white columbines (Aquilegia vulgaris) that I like very much.

And while I’m on the beautiful gardens of Spadina House, here’s an attractive early summer duo: white meadow rue (Thalictrum aquilegifolium ‘Album’) with white snakeroot (Actaea racemosa).

New York Botanical Garden’s Seasonal Border, another Piet Oudolf design, does a lovely repeat with white foxgloves (Digitalis purpurea ‘Alba’) in late spring.

I liked this quiet NYBG combination of white violets (V. cornuta) with ‘Jack Frost’ variegated Siberian bugloss (Brunnera macrophylla).

Further into the season, this is a classic white annual combination at NYBG: white Nicotiana sylvestris with white spider flower (Cleome hassleriana).

And I was completely wowed by this soft underplanting of native foamflower (Tiarella cordifolia) beneath magenta azaleas in NYBG’s fabulous Azalea Garden.

My favourite American public garden, Chanticleer, has a sweet way of working white into its schemes. Here’s a mass planting of white astilbe lighting up the shady Bell’s Wood.

And how wonderful is this, on Chanticleer’s Rocky Ledge? A rollicking carpet of annual white Orlaya grandiflora with red corn poppies (Papaver rhoeas) and ‘Caradonna’ meadow sage (Salvia nemorosa).

Walk down the hill from that rocky ledge and you’re in the most gorgeous series of water gardens, but if you love being “led”, this is what will catch your eye, Once again, my favourite foxglove penstemon, P. digitalis, all along the left side of the path.

My final combination using white flowers comes from the sensational perennial garden of Montreal Botanical Garden, better known in the city as the Jardin Botanique. Here, white Echinacea ‘Prima Donna‘ acts as a petticoat for tall orange Lilium henryi.

So that’s white for January, from me to you! Stay tuned for February! RED, baby!

Planting a Hummingbird Menu

Posted on August 24, 2015 by Janet

One of our great summer joys at the cottage on Lake Muskoka is the closeup view we have of the ruby-throated hummingbird (Archilochus colubris) nectaring on flowers in the containers on our sundeck. Of the many hummingbirds in North America, the ruby-throated is the only species found east of the Great Plains.

Those wings may be small but they’re very powerful, beating 50 times per second and capable of flying from Ontario all the way south to Costa Rica and other tropical areas during winter migration.

I haven’t put up a hummingbird feeder at the cottage. I’m terrible at maintaining bird feeders and sugar water stations and don’t want the grief of pesky wasps invading the sweet stuff. But I also prefer them to feed on real flower nectar, (much safer than sugar water which can harbour bacteria and also contains valuable micronutrients), and always buy flowering annuals that I know from past experience they’ll enjoy. Over the years, a favourite has been agastache or hummingbird mint – not the purplish-blue anise hyssop (Agastache foeniculum) which is nonetheless a great bee plant, but the more tender species and hybrids of the southwestern species like Agastache rupestris, A. cana and A. mexicana. Since hybridization of these great plants has exploded in the past decade or so, they are becoming more available as annuals in colder parts of the northeast, thank goodness, since they rarely return when winters are tough.

Like all hummingbirds, the rubythroated’s long beak is perfectly suited to tubular flowers. And like all birds, whose vision is most acute in the red part of the light spectrum, it’s especially drawn to flowers in shades of red and orange, but will also seek out any nectar-rich flower that meets with its approval, especially in the early season when few flowers have emerged. I’ve seen them feeding on spring-blooming purple ‘PJM’ rhododendrons and yellow narcissus, among other plants.

Here are a few of my favourite choices for a hummingbird menu:

Agastache ‘Kudos’ series – As shown in my video, I grow both ‘Kudos Coral’ and ‘Kudos Mandarin’ from Terra Nova in my deck pots and they are both excellent nectar sources, but the coral cultivar seems a little more vigorous and floriferous, for some reason.

Salvia guaranitica ‘Black & Blue’ – Hummingbird sage is one of the most beautiful of the big salvias, with its azure-blue flowers and black stems and bracts. It will overwinter in milder areas (USDA Zone 7 and warmer), but it’s worth growing as an annual in cold regions for its ability to lure hummingbirds to its sweet nectar.

Salvia microphylla ‘Hot Lips’ – Another flowery video star, this lively little sage is really fun to grow and the hummingbirds love it.

Crocosmia ‘Lucifer’ – Montbretia – Hummingbirds adore the red flowers of this South African bulb, a hybrid introduction of Alan Bloom. My cottage on Lake Muskoka is USDA Zone 4, but reliable snow cover has so far created conditions that have allowed ‘Lucifer’ (USDA Zone 6b) to multiply and spread…..

…. much to the delight of the ruby-throated hummingbird below.

Here’s my little video of the hummingbird on Crocosmia ‘Lucifer’:

Tropaeolum majus – Nasturtium – Hummingbirds love nasturtiums, but they aren’t as satisfying in the bang-for-buck hummingbird potential as the smaller flowers of my previous two choices. Still, a nice old-fashioned flower (and a lovely salad garnish, since it’s edible).

Aquilegia canadensis – Eastern columbine – Since it flowers at the lake in late May and June, this one offers early nectar to returning hummingbirds.

Penstemon barbatus – Scarlet Bugler – Flowering in early summer and then sporadically later, I’ve heard this is one of the best penstemons for hummingbirds. Though I don’t have a lot of it and it’s down by the lake where I can’t keep my eye on it, I’m sure my hummers have found it.

Monarda didyma – Beebalm – Another hummingbird favourite. I can also attest to the popularity of wild beebalm, Monarda fistulosa, which I grow by the hundreds in my little meadows and have seen being visited by hummingbirds.

Hummingbird bush, Uruguayan Firecracker Plant (Dicliptera suberecta) – I went out of my way to source this plant in 2014, but didn’t have the right conditions (gritty and very well-drained soil) and managed to get only a few flowers by summer’s end. So I’m not sure my hummers ever found it, but it is reputed to be a hummingbird magnet.

Here are a few more ideas for your hummingbird grocery list:

Cigar Plant (Cuphea ignea) – A tender annual/tropical that’s good for hummingbirds and can usually be found in the specialty annuals section at better garden centres in early spring.
Firecracker Bush (Hamelia patens) – While you’re in the specialty annuals section, see if you can find this little tropical with the hummingbird-friendly red flowers.
Flowering Maple (Abutilon sp.) – Appears on lots of hummingbird lists, and a beautiful tropical shrub for a large container.
Fuchsia – Great for shady containers. And if you can find California fuchsia (Zauschneria californica), give them a whirl in your summer containers, too.
Cypress Vine, aka Hummingbird vine (Ipomoea quamoclit) – This is a wonderful annual vine with bright red flowers and a real hummingbird favourite. I might try this one next year in my planters.
Honeysuckle (Lonicera sp.) – Hummingbird favourites, but choose a native northeastern species like L. sempervirens or L. dioica, not an invasive Asian honeysuckle. ‘Major Wheeler’ is a good one to attract hummers.
Trumpet Creeper (Campsis radicans) – A big, heavy vine but oh-so-attractive to hummingbirds when those orange trumpets open in summer.
Indian Pink (Spigelia marilandica) – A spectacular-looking, early summer denizen of shady woodland places.
Cardinal Flower (Lobelia cardinalis) – A good, late-summer hummingbird lure for damp conditions.
Pink Turtlehead (Chelone lyonii) – A lovely late-summer perennial for moisture-retentive places.

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But plants don’t have to have red flowers to attract hummingbirds (as we saw above with Salvia guaranitica ‘Black and Blue’.). I’ve seen them nectaring on daffodils in May and other yellow flowers, including biennial evening primrose (Oenothera biennis), below, a nice weedy plant in my meadows.

And I loved watching the ruby-throated below nectar on the tiny flowers of Nicotiana mutabilis. The main thing is to offer them that deep trumpet they love to explore with their long beaks.

Janet Davis Explores Colour

In the garden & the world

Category Archives: Annuals/Tropicals

Black for Garden Drama

August in New York’s Conservatory Garden

Cordial Chartreuse on the Garden Menu

Garden Design Using White Flowers

Planting a Hummingbird Menu

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