Life is full of ironies.
A woman who used to live in my neighborhood loved gardens and gardening, but spent long days working as a nurse. Between career, family and other obligations, she never had time to create the garden of her dreams. Finally she found the money to hire a garden designer/installer who brought her vision to life. It was a beautiful garden, full of shrubs and perennials and it had a singular combination of fragrance, succession of bloom and all the other characteristics that gardeners lust for, but can’t always achieve.
She had about two years to enjoy and tend that garden before she was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer. After she died, her husband kept the house for a few years and the garden was sporadically maintained by landscapers, but it was never the same. The house was subsequently sold. The new owners simplified the layout, but have kept some of the original plants, including a wonderful white rugosa rose. Every time I walk by the house and the rose is blooming, I stop to savor its characteristic spicy scent and remember the original gardener.
I also marvel at another holdover–a cluster of tall, late summer-blooming plants whose identification has eluded me for years. The flower stalks are at least five feet tall and sturdy, standing erect even though they are never staked. Those stalks are crowned by fluffy flower clusters composed of scores of tiny, vibrant purple blooms. . Alternating, slender leaves dance along the stems.
Every time I see the mystery plant, I make assumptions. Because of its bloom time, flower configuration and color, I thought that it might be some kind of aster, or at least a member of the aster or Compositae plant family. The aster clan is enormous, so the aster assumption did very little to narrow down the pool of possible species.
I took pictures, consulted ancient and modern reference sources and talked to fellow gardeners. The end result was unsatisfying, because the conclusion was always “some kind of tall aster.” The mystery began to eat a hole in my horticultural soul.
Fortunately for the state of that soul, fate intervened, as it often does, in the form of a random visit to the garden center. I was perusing the half-price table when I heard the distant voice of my daughter. “Mom”, she yelled, “It’s an ironweed!”
I was caught off guard and had no idea what she was talking about, so I beat a path to the other side of the garden center. She was standing beside a statuesque potted specimen that was the spitting image of the mystery plant. The tag read, Vernonia noveboracensis, or, more commonly, New York ironweed.
I was very surprised, because the New York ironweed that I am used to grows in profusion near our summer cottage in Central New York. It is less tall, with flowers that are less bright. The difference, I think, lies in the fact that the cultivated New York ironweed at the nursery is the product of selective breeding, a process by which the breeder repeatedly selects the best plants of a particular species and cross breeds them to produce superior selections. The ironweed on our summer property has never had that kind of human assistance and gotten along for many plant generations with only the help of local bees. Local adaptations, like shorter, sturdier stems that can withstand significant winds, have won out.
Of course, the ironweed in Central New York may also be a different species. According to the still-invaluable Hortus Third, the genus Vernonia is home to between 500 and 1,000 species native to many parts of the world.
I felt at least a bit of satisfaction in the knowledge that ironweed is indeed a member of the Compositae plant family.
New York ironweed is, not surprisingly, the state flower of New York State. It can grow up to six feet tall and four feet wide in congenial settings, which include sunshine and consistent moisture. The plants love a good stream bank or damp low spot, when those situations are available. Water retentive clay soil is no problem and neither are deer, who avoid ironweed. Happy ironweed multiplies quickly and some people consider it an invasive weed.
I consider it a boon to the garden and purchased the cultivated ironweed that my daughter first saw. I will put it at the back of a border, where it can shine, along with asters, Joe Pyeweed and other seasonal bloomers. The bees, butterflies and other nectar feeders will certainly thank me. If it gets too prolific, I’ll just grub out the seedlings. It can’t be any worse than the pink ‘Hella Lacey’ asters that have self seeded enough to create numerous pockets of pink haze throughout the September garden.
I love a good mystery and a good solution is the icing on the cake. If you want your own ironweed for fall planting, go to the website for American Beauties Native Plants–https://www.abnativeplants.com/index.cfm. Enter your zipcode and its retailer locator will pinpoint retailers in your area that carry New York ironweed and other natives marketed by the company. Prairie Moon Nursery carries ironweed seeds for planting next spring. Find them at 32115 Prairie Lane, Winona, MN 55987; (866) 417-8156; www.prairiemoon.com, Free print catalog.