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Fairy Crown 12 – Penstemons & Coreopsis in Muskoka

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Within days of the summer solstice, the meadows and wildish garden areas at our cottage on Lake Muskoka north of Toronto have become spangled with flowers – not all of which I actually planted. Indeed, ‘weeds’ like pink musk mallow (Malva moschata), yellow birdsfoot trefoil (Lotus corniculatus) and everlasting pea (Lathyrus latifolius) are a fact of life here on Lake Muskoka; thankfully, most find it tough to compete with the rugged prairie perennials and grasses that I did plant.  Nonetheless, they all manage to look lovely together in my 12th fairy crown, which includes native foxglove penstemon (Penstemon digitalis), its steadfast companion native lance-leaved coreopsis (Coreopsis lanceolata), small yellow foxglove (Digitalis lutea), annual daisy fleabane (Erigeron annuus) and the ripe fruit of native American red  elderberry (Sambucus pubens).

It’s a good time of year to craft bouquets from the meadow.

Foxglove penstemon (Penstemon digitalis) was one of the first plants I sowed at the lake and it remains one of my favorites.

Ultra-hardy, it is one of just three penstemon species native to Ontario; it is also native to Minnesota and other Great Lakes states.  Though there are red-leafed commercial cultivars like ‘Husker Red’ and some with dark leaves, stems and pinkish flowers like ‘Dark Towers’, I prefer the natural, red-stemmed variations that occur in a seed-grown population, like the one below

Best of all, it is perfectly happy in the dry, sandy, gravelly soil on our property where it survives drought, heat and extreme cold winter temperatures, often devoid of snow cover. It flowers at the same time, and in the same conditions, as lanceleaf coreopsis.  Here they are at the lakeshore…

…. and also behind our cottage this June.

Foxglove penstemon’s 2-3-foot (60-90 cm) spikes topped with bell-shaped, lightly-scented, white flowers in early summer are highly attractive to bumble bees, hummingbird clearwing moths and hummingbirds.

Here is a little video of foxglove penstemon and its flying fans at Lake Muskoka.

Lanceleaf coreopsis (Coreopsis lanceolata) is another carefree native that seeds itself around our property, enjoying the same conditions as foxglove penstemon. Until researching its native range for this blog, I had no idea another common name is “sand coreopsis”. It is also an “acidophile”. That explains why it is so happy in almost pure, acidic sand at the top of our Precambrian ridge where very few plants thrive, except perhaps Verbena stricta, hoary vervain.

However, it is not as long-lived as foxglove penstemon, below….

….and does not seem to appreciate extreme winter temperatures – unless it has adequate snow cover.  It reaches 2-3 feet (60-90 cm) with willowy stems. The cheerful yellow flowers host native bees and butterflies….

…. much to the occasional delight of crab spiders.

It is also an occasional (hilarious) snack for the local groundhog family, among many other tasty horticultural treats on that critter’s menu.  By mid-summer, I enjoy watching goldfinches eat the plentiful seeds.

Given that much of the ‘new’ soil on our hillside was delivered by barge, having been scooped up by tractor shovel from old fields nearby, it is unsurprising that common European weeds beloved by early settlers to the region would appear almost immediately. Musk mallow (Malva moschata) is one of those, a perennial that grows 2-3 feet (60-90 cm) tall and wide and features silken-petalled, pink blossoms in early-mid summer.

Musk mallow flowers aren’t visited by many insects, but are lovely additions to a small bouquet, along with the ubiquitous oxeye daisy (Leucanthemum vulgare) from my 10th fairy crown.

Birdsfoot trefoil (Lotus corniculatus), on the other hand, is popular with bees, like most legumes, but considered an invasive plant. Another European species brought to North America by early settlers as a forage crop, it likes the sandy, gravelly soil of roadsides and disturbed places.

Because it cannot compete with my big prairie plants – and, more accurately, because weeding is not something I do at the cottage – it is welcome to co-exist with the other weeds, including tufted vetch (Vicia cracca) in the background below, which bumble bees and other bees adore. 

Straw foxglove or small yellow foxglove (Digitalis lutea) is a curious foundling in my driest meadow, where it has spread from a few plants more than a decade ago to a good-sized colony today. Another European native that made its way to the new world via early settlers, it attracts few pollinators but makes a lovely cut flower. It is my only weed that has received a Royal Horticultural Society Award of Garden Merit!

The pink pea flowers of everlasting pea (Lathyrus latifolius) are tucked into my June 25th Lake Muskoka fairy crown, too. By now you should not be surprised that this is another European stowaway in my meadows, a sprawling 6-foot (2 meter) perennial vine that clambers over other plants to arrive at its destination….

….. all the while producing nectar-rich blossoms that my bumble bees shamelessly adore. I could try to eradicate it, but it would be mission impossible.

Because it blooms so early, I often miss the flowering of the native red elderberry shrubs (Sambucus pubens, formerly S. racemosa) that grow in moist, part shade behind our cottage. But it’s impossible to miss the bright-red, early summer fruit – provided hungry birds haven’t stripped it clean already. Unlike black elderberry (S. nigra), the bitter fruits of this large shrub, though ostensibly edible when cooked, are not tolerated well in quantity by humans. Leave them for the birds!

I have become increasingly enchanted with the airy, branching scapes and little white flowers of native daisy fleabane (Erigeron annuus). An annual (or occasionally biennial) pioneer species that spreads easily by seed (and thus appears on agricultural weed lists), it blooms for weeks on end, adding a jaunty bit of lightness to the edges of my path and meadows where it grows 3-4 feet (90-120 cm) tall. It attracts numerous small bees, wasps and syrphid flies. 

In a sense, this fairy crown represents my gardening philosophy:  a little bit tame, a lot wild, and don’t sweat the weeds if the bees can use them. 

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Here are the blogs on 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
#10 – June Blues on Lake Muskoka
#11 – Sage & Catmint for the Bees

Fairy Crown #10-June Blues

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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