Oudolf Field at Hauser & Wirth

Having visited and often written about Dutch designer Piet Oudolf’s garden on the High Line in many seasons – May, June, mid-summer and autumn; having blogged about his fabulous Lurie Garden in Chicago; but mostly having photographed and written about the seasons passing in the Oudolf-designed entry border at Toronto Botanical Garden, a few miles from my home, I was beyond excited to finally visit Oudolf Field at Hauser & Wirth Gallery at Dunslade Farm in Somerset, near Bruton.  First we walked through the gallery, one of 21 galleries worldwide founded originally in Zurich in 1992 by Iwan and Manuela Wirth along with Manuela’s mother, art patron and collector Ursula Hauser. The Somerset gallery resulted from the renovation of a collection of old farm buildings and is located near the Wirths’ home.  Like all their galleries, it features high-profile modern artists such as Americans Richard Jackson, below…

… and Paul McCarthy, whose silicone White Snow Dwarves, below, from the Ursula Hauser collection was displayed near the exit to the garden.

Leaving the gallery which was designed by Argentine-born architect Luis Laplace, visitors pass through a cloister garden designed by Piet Oudolf and featuring the sculpture Lemur Heads by Franz West.  Unlike the meadow beyond, this space contains woodlanders and shade-tolerant species.  

The small trees in this garden are paper mulberry (Broussonetia papyrifera) with their fuzzy, globular female flowers.

Martagon lilies were just beginning to show colour.

We began with a talk from head gardener Mark Dumbelton, who spoke about the beginnings of the garden and expanded on some of its challenges, mainly around the soil. Indeed, when we visited England was on its way to enduring the hottest June on record since 1884, according to the Royal Meteorological Society, and watering was being done by hand.  Behind Mark, I noticed the white inflorescences of….

Ornithogalum ponticum ‘Sochi’, a Russian native bulb that contrasts well with emerging grasses and makes a good cut flower.

Near the gallery is a naturalistic pond surrounded by pink flowering rush (Butomnus umbellatus).

You can see the pond at the left, below, on Piet’s colourful 2012 plan for the wildflower meadow in the Hauser & Wirth catalogue.  Spread out over 1.5 acres are seventeen curved, informal planting beds separated by a central gravel path as well as lawn paths between the beds and surrounded by an existing hedge, beyond which Piet planted trees.

He explained his rationale for Oudolf Field in the video below.  

With Mark’s talk finished, we were set loose in the meadow. I viewed it through spires of peach foxtail lily (Eremurus), a lovely perennial for early summer whose….  

….. tall inflorescences never fail to attract the attention of visitors – and bees! This one looks like the Dutch cultivar Eremurus x isabellinus ‘Romance’.  

I was intrigued by the ten turf circles in the central path through the meadow.  The path lets visitors stroll from one end to the other, but the playful circles relieve the tedium of this long expanse of purposeful gravel.  

They are so unlike Piet’s characteristic naturalistic style, but in fact they point to his pragmatic design knowledge and site adaptability. (Yes, he designs woodlands and knows shrubs and trees as well as his favourite perennials!) 

I was reminded in studying these circles of my own visit to Piet and Anja’s garden in Hummelo, Netherlands in 1999 which was designed in part to reflect one of his early Dutch influences, the great designer Mien Ruys (1904-99), the so-called “mother of modernist gardens”.  Both his famous hedges and circle gardens, below, were his interpretation of what has been called “contemporary formalism” by his frequent literary collaborator Noel Kingsbury.

I feel very fortunate to have spoken with Piet then, at the beginning of his international fame. I made a photo of him at their outdoor table with spring-flowering shrubs in flower around us. Anja was in their nursery (gone now) with customers, and their little dog sat in a chair nearby.

Back to Oudolf Field, the overwhelming mood here on June 9th was of soft pastel mauves and blues amidst the emerging green of the grasses and summer perennials. Eastern beebalm (Monarda bradburiana) native to the American southeast was in full flower in front of the blue blossoms of narrowleaf bluestar (Amsonia hubrichtii), a south-central American native that turns brilliant chartreuse-gold in autumn.   Emerging through the grasses were the big starry globes of star-of-Persia allium (A.cristophii).  

I had never seen Monarda bradburiana before spotting it in Piet’s design at the High Line years ago.  Like many of the plants he uses – and sometimes introduces to commerce – it has withstood his field testing at Hummelo. This compact species has the good characteristics of the beebalms, including pollinator appeal, without the negative drawbacks, such as powdery mildew.

I saw tall Carthusian pinks(Dianthus carthusianorum) in almost every garden I visited in June, including Sissinghurst and Hillside, the garden of Dan Pearson and Huw Morgan

Early June, following the explosion of spring bulbs and before the summer abundance of flowering perennials is sometimes considered an “in-between” time in the garden. That quiet interlude is helped immensely by the many ornamental onions, and Piet uses them to great advantage in all his gardens, both for their flowers and later seedheads.  Below, again, you see Allium cristophii along with the Corten steel edging used to delineate the beds.

After seeing Allium atropurpureum, below, amidst grasses, I came back to Canada and immediately ordered some for my own June garden.

Here is Allium atropurpureum with Amsonia hubrichtii.

… and with Oenothera lindheimeri, i.e. gaura.

Looking back to the gallery through the gardens, including dark-leaved penstemons.

Piet uses various low grasses as matrix plants, including Sporobolus heterolepis, below, and Sesleria autumnalis.

The weather was so warm the day we were there in this record-setting dry June, the assistant gardener was working full-time to water.

While the garden is situated within pre-existing hedges, Piet planted trees on the boundary to contain it further.

The Pavilion, designed by Chilean architect Smiljan Radić and installed in March 2015, sits at the end of Oudolf Field and is intended to “create a dialogue between the gallery complex and pavilion and their relationship with the garden”. Radić says it is “part of a history of small romantic constructions seen in parks or large gardens, the so-called follies.”  Built of white, translucent fibreglass with cedar flooring and set atop large quarry stones, visitors can view the garden from within the shell.     

Heading into the gallery for lunch, I passed the attractive bar — a work of art in itself.

It was a lunch I would have enjoyed much more if I hadn’t been feeling the beginnings of what turned out to be my first case of Covid in more than 3 years– and the unexpected and sudden end later that night of my wonderful English garden tour. But I was so delighted to have experienced yet another masterpiece in the always-varied oeuvre of Piet Oudolf.

Fairy Crown #24 – Fall Asters & Showy Goldenrod for Thanksgiving

My 24th fairy crown is a celebration of early autumn in my meadows on Lake Muskoka. I have purposefully worked to create late season habitat for all the bumble bees that enjoy my summer flowers, primarily with the two native plants I’m wearing. The purple is New England aster (Symphyotrichum novae-angliae); the yellow is showy goldenrod (Solidago speciosa).  Also tucked in are a few sprigs of the winterberry shrubs (Ilex verticillata) that grow naturally along the lake’s rocky shore.

I had some fun with this crown when I sat on the bench on my hillside above the lake. In late September and early October, the bumble bees and assorted other bees and wasps are almost frantically active, sensing, no doubt, that the days are getting cooler and their time is coming to an end.  You can see a bumble bee enjoying the crown flowers after I took it off my head.

But I also experienced the useful life of a pollinator plant when I sat on the bench wearing my crown and let the bees come to me. Here’s a little video I made.

Most recent findings for showy goldenrod (Solidago speciosa) indicate that the species is native in Ontario to two regions, the “Great Lakes Plains” population is on Walpole Island First Nation at the mouth of the St. Clair River on Lake St. Clair; the other “Boreal” population is near Kenora in northwest Ontario.  These distant (1200 km) ecological areas present different morphologies for the species, possibly indicating different varieties. In the U.S., the Department of Natural Resources is reportedly elevating the three known S. speciosa varieties to species rank; at present they are S. speciosa var. speciosa, S. speciosa var. rigidiscula and S. speciosa var. jejunifolia

My plants were seed-sown from a Minnesota source more than 15 years ago and are very hardy; while spreading somewhat aggressively, they do not colonize via rhizomes like Canada goldenrod so are fairly easy to pull out if they become too happy.   I have praised this plant in my blog before – see Sparing the ‘Rod, Spoiling the Bees.

Most important for me is their late flowering season and their large inflorescence, a boon for the butterflies…

…. and, especially, my bumble bees after most of the other meadow perennials have gone to seed.

Two native aster species flower in succession in early autumn. Below is smooth aster (Symphyotrichum laeve) flowering alongside showy goldenrod in my west meadow.  It’s a little  willowy and fragile-looking compared to….

….. New England aster (Symphyotrichum novae-angliae) with showy goldenrod, Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans) and big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii) in the west meadow.  That’s the seedhead of Culver’s root (Veronicastrum virginicum) at lower right.

New England aster has a common rich-purple form, shown below being foraged by a tri-coloured bumble bee (Bombus ternarius).

It also has a distinct mauve-pink form, below, the one below featuring the common Eastern bumble bee (Bombus impatiens).   

Winterberry (Ilex verticillata) is widespread in damp and boggy settings in Muskoka. It grows at the shore of the cottage and the fruits last into winter, until they’re eaten by hungry birds.

I made a second video for this time at the cottage, featuring some of the plants above:

By early October, the leaves of the red maples (Acer rubrum), so plentiful in Muskoka, have started transforming to shades of orange and red – and some yellow.  This is one on our property which I selected to ‘keep’ (since I could have hundreds, given the number of seedlings that arise.)

It is visible framed through a cottage window beyond my “nature lamp”.

This weekend, of course, is Thanksgiving in Canada. It more accurately represents our harvest time in our northern latitude than the late November date south of the border. And Thanksgiving means PIES! My grandchildren take an active role in pie-making, including cutting slices for the apple pie….

….. and making sour cream cobwebs on the pumpkin pie.

The table is set for Thanksgiving dinner, usually with extended family from our bay…

…. and a centrepiece bouquet with flowers cut from the meadows.  A few Helianthus ‘Lemon Queen’ and Rudbeckia subtomentosa are usually still in bloom to add to the goldenrod and asters.

Turkey, mashed potatoes, dressing, green beans and sweet potatoes, with the relatives sharing vegetable offerings at our casual buffet.

Those pies appear for dessert, and though you’re really much too full… somehow “a tiny slice of each” is a familiar refrain.

The next day sometimes features turkey noodle soup for the freezer. Then it’s out for an autumn hike …..

…. through the forest behind our cottages.

There are many diversions for the grandkids….

…. and lots of eye-catching mushrooms to photograph. Sadly, this is a downed American beech tree (Fagus grandifolia), a species currently under attack from beech bark disease.

It’s important to know the exact species of mushroom before gathering for cooking. You would not want to eat Amanita muscaria var. guessowii or American yellow fly agaric, for example, since it is toxic (and dangerously psychoactive, though not a psilocybin ‘magic mushroom’).

I was fascinated with the pale purple colour of this wood blewit (Clitocybe nuda) growing under white pines and paper birches on our shore – though mushrooms can be any colour.

But it is the spectacular colours of the autumn canopy of our northern mixed forests that thrills us – the visual reward before our long, white winter on the Muskoka section of the Precambrian Shield.

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This fairy crown is the 24th in a long line of Tinker Bell crowns. Here are links to the previous ones.

#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
#17- Beebalm & Yellow Daisies at the Lake
#18- Russian Sage & Blazing Stars
#19-My Fruitful Life
#20-Cup Plant, Joe Pye & Ironweed
#21-Helianthus & Hummingbirds#22-Grasses, Asters & Goldenrod
#23-Sedums, Pass-Along Plants & Fruit for the Birds

Fairy Crown #22-Grasses, Asters & Goldenrod

My 22nd fairy crown is a celebration of the ornamental grasses I grow at the cottage on Lake Muskoka.  The little seeds are from switch grass (Panicum virgatum); my “bangs” are big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii); and there’s also some pollen-laden Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans) there as well. The pale lavender flowers are a little aster that grows wild on our property, sky-blue aster (Symphyotrichum oolentangiense). The pink flowers are the New England aster ‘Harrington’s Pink’ (Symphyotrichum novae-angliae).

In fact, #22 was the most unruly of all my crowns to make, given that the grasses had long flowering spikes that were difficult to attach to the wire frame.  Here’s a little inside look at the nuts-and-bolts of fairy crown creation.

Many of my prairie grasses grow in the west meadow. In the photo below, you can see big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii) mixed with heliopsis, lanceleaf aster and various goldenrods.

When native switch grass (Panicum virgatum) is in flower and the sun shines behind it, it adds a beautiful sense of lightness to the meadow. I planted a few nursery pots of various cultivars of switch grass in the naturalistic garden beds on the property, but I also sowed seed of the species throughout the meadows and it is gradually filling in in many places….

….. including the lake shore.

It has a swishing, kinetic quality that makes sitting beside it in late summer a sensory experience.

And in autumn, switch grass turns colour, with some taking on red hues and others golden-yellow.

Big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii) is sometimes called turkeyfoot grass because the flower spikes branch into three segments that resemble a turkey’s foot.  It is native to southern Ontario.

By the time it blooms in early September alongside big bluestem, grey-headed coneflower (Ratibida pinnata) is usually showing off its oblong black seedheads.

Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans) is a stealth grass; one minute it’s in a tidy clump in a garden bed, the next minute it’s popping up in cracks between flagstones.  But it’s one of the native grasses I’ve encouraged to grow in the shallow, sandy soil of the west meadow.  I assume its deep, searching roots find cracks in the Precambrian bedrock that somehow approximate the deep soil of the tallgrass prairie that once covered millions and millions of acres of North America. That little aster peeking out from the Indian grass is sky-blue aster (Symphyotrichum oolentangiense).

I see it all over the countryside in Muskoka, but I adore the way it pops up amidst native species that I sowed in the meadows here, like wild beebalm (Monarda fistulosa), below, showing its late summer seedheads.

It’s one of those plants that is unassumingly charming – and new plants emerge in different spots each September.

But bees are sure to find it, including the orange-belted bumble bee (Bombus ternarius), below.

In my east meadow, September features another plant I received from the gardeners at Toronto’s Spadina House Museum – only this time, I purchased at their plant sale (unlike my cup plants, which were gifted to me by Spadina’s gardeners with a warning about their rambling ways.)  Meet Symphyotrichum novae-angliae ‘Harrington’s Pink’, below, partnering with sweet blackeyed susan (Rudbeckia subtomentosa).

Bumble bees are fond of ‘Harrington’s Pink’…. even if the flowers sometimes don’t fully open in my dry meadows and tend to look a little wonky…..

….. unlike the spectacular display this plant makes at Spadina House in early autumn, along with other cultivars of New England aster.

The goldenrod in my crown is not one you see in nurseries; in fact, it took me a while to identify it, but I think I have.  It is hairy goldenrod (Solidago hispida), native to dry, rocky places in a large swath of the northeast.

I’ll leave you with a bouquet I made many years ago that celebrates the big grasses, asters, seedheads and goldenrods that shine in my meadows at this time of year. The cowboy boot? Well, it just seemed fitting for this celebration of the prairie on Lake Muskoka!

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Here are the blogs on my previous 21 fairy crowns!

#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
#17- Beebalm & Yellow Daisies at the Lake
#18- Russian Sage & Blazing Stars
#19-My Fruitful Life
#20-Cup Plant, Joe Pye & Ironweed

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 #10-June Blues

My tenth fairy crown for June 10th created at the cottage on Lake Muskoka features an array of flowers picked from my meadows and wildish garden beds. If it’s a little quiet-looking, that’s because it’s still very green in the meadows, and the plants that predominate, such as lupines and blue false indigo (Baptisia australis) are, well, solemnly blue.  Along with those two, my crown has golden Alexanders (Zizia aurea), white nannyberry flowers (Viburnum lentago), white oxeye daisy (Leucanthemum superbum) and the tiny pink flowers of black huckleberry (Gaylussacia baccata). And, in an effort to reflect the bad with the good, there are some caterpillar-chewed oak leaves, courtesy of the spongy moth (LDD or gypsy moth) caterpillars.

In fact, it’s a time of year I think of as ‘June blues’; in reality, it’s more lavender-purple, but it’s remarkable that so many plants with similar flower color bloom simultaneously. I fashioned a bouquet one June, setting the finished product in the meadows where the lupines grow. In it were the lupines as well as false blue indigo (Baptisia australis), blue flag iris (Iris versicolor), pale lilac showy penstemon (Penstemon grandiflorus) and a few of my “weeds”, oxeye daisy (Leucanthemum vulgare) and buttercups (Ranunculus repens).

I grew the lupines from seed – a fairly complex operation that involved soaking the seed in warm water for 24 hours, then planting them in my sandy, acidic soil in a spot at the bottom of a slope that stays damp all the time. Fortunately, it worked and plants that were carefully transplanted and kept watered the first year have self-sown successive generations of new lupines that are very drought-tolerant. This is how they looked in the first few years, though now the big prairie species in the meadow have elbowed them to the margins. Though marketed as the eastern native wild lupine, L. perennis, my plants were in fact likely hybrids with L. polyphyllus from the west coast.  

Nevertheless, they attract numerous queen bumble bees seeking to provision their nests in spring. 

There is something so enticing about lupine flowers, so I like to focus on them with my camera to see what might be hanging out there, whether spiders….

…. or baby grasshoppers. 

Blue false indigo (Baptisia australis) is a North American native plant whose pea-like flowers resemble those of lupine. 

Bushy, it grows to about 4 feet (1.2 m) and is happy in my gravelly, sandy soil on a slope that gathers a little moisture. In autumn, the foliage turns an amazing gunmetal-gray and the seedpods shake with a noise like a rattlesnake’s tail. Its common name derives from its use by Native Americans and settlers as a substitute dye plant for true indigo (Indigofera tinctoria).  So far, it has spread very slowly nearby.

Bumble bees and many other native bees are very fond of Baptisia australis.

If I admitted to liking a plant that is on every state and province’s invasive plant list, I would get into trouble. So I’ll just say that since oxeye daisy (Leucanthemum vulgare) is on every Muskoka highway margin and dots the old fields in the area, I don’t mind at all if it pops up here too.

It cannot compete with my prairie grasses and perennials in the meadows, but it likes to hang out in spots of unplanted earth and at the edge of the path in front of the cottage, along with weedy buttercups (Ranunculus repens).  There’s a childhood memory of oxeye daisies. I remember sitting in the hayfield across the street from my house in Victoria, British Columbia, pulling the white petals from the flowers as I recited “he loves me, he loves me not” – and, of course, being delighted when I sat with a sad, petal-free flower convinced the boy across the street was my Prince Charming. Buttercups were part of my childhood too; we’d hold them under each other’s chin to see if we liked butter. Yes, butter.  There were no grownups around to tell us it wasn’t the predictive ability of a flower, but the reflective quality of its shiny yellow petals to create this magic.

Sometimes the oxeye daisies pop up near the lupines.

Native hoverflies, short-tongued bees and butterflies often visit the daisies as well.   

But path-cutting through the meadows – a necessity in early summer – quickly makes compost of the weedy buttercups and oxeye daisies… until next year.

I grew my golden alexanders (Zizia aurea) from seed and though quite particular about adequate soil moisture and a location out of hot sun, they are self-sowing here and there.  A short-lived native perennial from the carrot family, they prefer moist prairies and open woodland and are a host plant for black swallowtail caterpillars.

Though nannyberry (Viburnum lentago) is native to woodland in much of the northeast, I planted it behind the cottage in a spot with moist soil where it is shaded during the hottest part of the day.

Each spring, it bears clusters of white flowers that the bees adore, producing dark-blue summer fruit that the birds eagerly consume. Multi-stemmed, it grows to about 15 feet tall (4.6 m) and 10 feet (3 m) wide with glossy leaves (you can see them on my crown) that turn bright red in autumn.

There is a tiny sprig of pink, lantern-shaped flowers sticking up from the top of my fairy crown; they belong to black huckleberry (Gaylussacia baccata), a native shrub that grows near the lakeshore where its roots are periodically saturated with water from spring floods. Bumble bees nectar in the flowers, and in August….

…… the shrubs yield dark-blue berries that are sweet, though a little seedy. 

Finally, my crown bears a few oak leaves with and chewed edges.  I made it at the beginning of June 2021, when gypsy moths, aka spongy moths or LDD moths (Lymantria dispar dispar) were beginning to consume the red and white oaks, white pines and many other plants on our hillside…..

….. including my beautiful nannyberry.

It was a devastating and historic predation; by mid-July, the woodlands in our region looked like February, so bare were the deciduous tree branches, below.  (You can read last year’s saga with the gypsy moths on my blog here.)

But abundant summer rainfall nurtured the tree roots and they leafed out again with full canopies in August, though the moths laid abundant eggs on our poor trees once again. This year, we’re in a wait-and-see mode, given our cold days this past winter and the chance that a virus might decimate their population. But I sprayed all the egg masses I could reach on the oaks and pines on our acre a week ago, using my homemade cooking-oil-and-soap spray. Fingers crossed.

But let’s not leave on a sad note.  Here is my deconstructed #10 crown, with its familiar components:  lupine, blue false indigo, oxeye daisy and black huckleberry flowers. And here’s to June!

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Here are all my fairy crowns to date:
#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