In this part of the world, we have paid for the recent mild winter with a long, erratically cool spring. Since March first, I think we have had more snow in the forecast—though not on the ground—than we did during the months of November, December and January combined.
The daffodils, hyacinths and tulips are made of the kind of strong stuff that enabled them to ignore the forecasts and put on a fine show. I am made of strong, hopeful stuff and faced down a gale-force windstorm to get to the garden center for some pansies. This is an annual ritual during which I follow in the horticultural footsteps of my father. He didn’t particularly love pansies, but in the neighborhood where I grew up, all decent people put containers of pansies on their porches or front stoops in early spring. The pansies stayed put until they were replaced by red geraniums around Memorial Day. On or about Labor Day, those geraniums were swapped for chrysanthemums. To do anything else would be a violation of the natural order.
So I gathered my pansies and was on my way to the checkout, when I spotted a new perennial–‘Wild Swan’. It was not in flower, but did boast a large, showy plant tag. Suddenly I heard violins and a heavenly choir. I was in love with yet another plant.
The alluring tag described ‘Wild Swan’ as a “hybrid anemone’, though the flower depicted on it looked more like a fully opened white tulip with petals marked by blue-purple on the reverse. I have been in an anemone frame of mind lately, ever since a friend brought me a bouquet of florist’s anemones a few weeks ago. Clearly, I was primed to love ‘White Swan’. I could have stood in the garden center aisle and researched the plant on my cell phone, but where is the romance in that? I snatched up the pot, plopped it into the cart next to the pansies and sprinted for the checkout.
I have had ample opportunity to study ‘Wild Swan’ and its plant tag since that day, because it is living in my kitchen while Mother Nature decides whether it will be winter or spring outside. The neat mound of dark green foliage has a fern-like appearance, with each leaf divided into three parts. It reminds me of the wood anemone—Anemone sylvestris—which has similar leaves and also sports white flowers. When my new plant blooms, it will be about eighteen inches tall with a twenty-four inch spread. The five-petaled flowers will nod from the tops of the stems, closing at dusk so they resemble graceful bells. Clearly, the violet-blue reverse, which does not appear on the wood anemone, is a major selling point.
A little research yielded a botanical name for my new acquisition, Anemone x rupicola. The “x”, of course, signifies a hybrid plant, and the background information on ‘Wild Swan’ mentions that one of the variety’s parents is Anemone rupicola, a native of the Himalayas and western China. A glance at Hortus Third, the still-invaluable horticultural reference book, confirmed my conclusion about the wood anemone likeness, noting that the rupicola species is “like Anemone sylvestris.”
Plant merchandisers love a good story and ‘Wild Swan’ has one. It was born in a Scottish nursery and first noticed by the nursery’s owner, Elizabeth MacGregor. Ms. MacGregor identified the rupicola resemblance and parentage and propagated the plant to build supplies. After ten years of plant trials, ‘Wild Swan’ was introduced at the Royal Horticultural Society’s 2011 Chelsea Flower Show. It garnered lots of positive feedback, and at the end of the show, received the Chelsea “Plant of the Year” award for 2011.
I am struck by the fact that ‘Wild Swan’ allegedly reblooms throughout the growing season. This trait would make it different from both its look-alike relations, the fall-blooming Japanese anemone—Anemone x hybrida—and the wood anemone. It is also reputedly resistant to deer, rabbits and other varmints. I have trouble believing that, since the deer regularly feast on my Japanese anemones. Once my plant goes out into the garden, I will douse it with deer spray, just in case Mr. Antlers cannot read the plant tag.
Japanese anemones self-seed with wild abandon, but ‘Wild Swan’ is, like many hybrids, apparently sterile. Retailers say that a happy specimen will develop into a nice clump after several years and can be divided. One of the catalog vendors notes that ‘Wild Swan’ “will spread politely to fill in…” I like a polite plant, especially one that thrives in light shade and has the good taste to provide lasting cut flowers. This hybrid fills that bill.
Eventually the weather will change and ‘Wild Swan’ will take flight in my garden. I have a nice spot all picked out. These new plant love affairs are usually a triumph of hope over experience, but never mind. I can’t wait to see those blue-violet petals.
If you want to catch a ‘Wild Swan’, you may find one on display at your local garden center. If not, try Bluestone Perennials, 7211 Middle Ridge Rd., Madison, OH 44057, (800) 852-5243, www.bluestoneperennials.com. Free catalog.