CHRYSANTHEMUM CONFLICT
I feel very conflicted about chrysanthemums. Like everyone else I spend the fall surrounded by them. In my town there seems to be an ordinance that requires every homeowner to mark the fall season by flanking the front door, porch or stairway with pots of mums. I do it too, because if I didn’t, I might get a summons and would certainly be socially ostracized. But even as the mums rest serenely on either side of the front door, I harbor doubts about them.
Why? Several reasons. First of all, my local garden centers and mass merchandisers carry an unlimited number of plants, but a limited array of varieties and colors. My favorites among the “hardy” mums commonly sold for fall decoration are the ones with fairly simple, single, daisy-like blooms. If they are available at all, these plants only come with white petals and yellow centers. The more common cushion-type hardy mums have a dense array of petals and tightly packed individual flowers and come in a range of whites, pinks, yellows, reds, russets and golds. In my experience, most vendors have one variety in each of those colors. Plant sizes range from petite to gargantuan.
Then there is the problem of my nose. Chrysanthemums smell harsh, bordering on unpleasant to me. Since no two noses are alike, other people may find the smell much less offensive. I place a high value on fragrance, which is why I buy the most fragrant varieties of everything–from daffodils to roses. It takes a lot to get me to buy something that lacks a pleasing fragrance, but the threat of local censure can do it.
There is also the issue of disposability. The “hardy” mums that you buy in garden centers have been cosseted like royalty–forced under greenhouse conditions and pinched for maximum branching. If you buy one early in the season, put it in the ground and treat it with the care you would use on any garden plant; it may come back the following year. Chances are it will be a bit smaller and if you want anything approaching the showy specimen that you originally purchased, you will have to pinch back the stems around Memorial Day and then again around the Fourth of July. If you forget, your plant will be a gangly thing, with many fewer flowers than the original. Horticultural professionals know that most of the “hardy” mums consumers buy are for seasonal color only. When the flowers fall, those mums will end up composted or parked by the curb on bulk ““pick-up day. If you start displaying mums around Labor Day and continue until Thanksgiving, you are going to need to make repeat purchases to ensure continuity of bloom. This kind of disposability is a boon to vendors–and I don’t begrudge them the ability to make a small profit in a difficult industry–but it bothers my thrifty soul.
Chrysanthemum lovers are probably going to dispute my concerns, citing the long and distinguished history of chrysanthemum cultivation. In China and Japan the plants have been cultivated for thousands of years. Breeding, cultivation and display have evolved into art forms. Last fall I was amazed by the “Kiku” show at the New York Botanical Gardens, which showcased impeccably trained chrysanthemum specimens in a variety of traditional Japanese styles. The talent and discipline of “kiku” masters is indisputable and remarkable, but I warmed more to the display of Japanese companion plants like painted ferns and anemones.
I think I would have a better relationship with mums if I grew more of the old-fashioned “garden” mums. These come in a wide array of colors and forms–from big, blowsy “football” types to little pompom varieties. Garden mums are usually on sale from plant vendors in the spring, so that the young plants will be ready to bloom by the following fall. I bought one named ‘Sheffield’ about five years ago and ever since it has produced increasing numbers of large, daisy-like flowers in a soft salmon shade. ‘Sheffield’ is almost the last plant to bloom in the fall and it is very welcome sight. The flowers keep nicely in arrangements, though they don’t have much fragrance to speak of. Old time plantsmen refer to Sheffield and similar varieties as “Korean mums” or Chrysanthemum koreana. Taxonomists have interfered with chrysanthemums just as they have with asters, so you may also see the botanical name Dendranthemum rubellum on some old-fashioned mums. This sounds more like a disease than a desirable plant, but pay no attention. It’s the same old fashioned mum that our grandparents and great-grandparents planted.
The garden mums also benefit from Memorial Day and July Fourth pinching, but it is not an absolute necessity. If you decide to buy an old fashioned chrysanthemum plant, give it lots of elbow room. Mine has sprawled until it is about three feet long and a foot deep. Its configuration is relaxed, as opposed to the tight flower formation of its “hardy” cousins. When the flowers finally open late in the fall they are so pretty that I feel almost sympathetic to mums.
If you want to wade into a sea of garden mum varieties, try Bluestone Perennials, 7211 Middle Ridge Road, Madison, OH 44057, (800) 852-5243, www.bluestoneperennials.com. Free catalog.