Some Wildflowers of the Natchez Trace

The Natchez Trace: 440 miles of scenic highway, managed by the National Park Service, stretching from Nashville to Natchez, and sitting (mostly) upon a centuries-old road used by Native Americans and European settlers. Of course it is host to many wildflowers, and simply driving along the trace affords a glimpse at some well-known flowering natives. Here are a few that bloomed recently.

Handsome Harry; or, if you prefer a relatively dull name, Rhexia virginica.

A closer look at Harry's handsome inflorescence.

Clearly a Liatris... but is it spicata or pycnostachya? These plants filled a field with dramatic purple pokers.

Liatris again.

Here's a particularly pale individual.

I know, not a wildflower... but you have to give this Crocosmia montbretia hybrid some credit for growing along a random path in a seemingly naturalized state. Maybe I need to plant a few.

Sunday Sundries: Papilionaceous Peas

The ghost town of Rocky Springs, Mississippi, once a prosperous community along the Natchez Trace, now consists of only a church building and few old, rusty safes.

Growing against a decidedly unoriginal-looking chain link fence adjacent to the church building, amongst equally unoriginal double orange daylilies, was a slightly nibbled-on spurred butterfly pea (Centrosema virginianum). 

Members of the legume family Fabaceae frequently have this distinct pea flower shape, resembling the shape of a butterfly (or papillon)-- technically denoted "papilionaceous" (which I think would make a good obscure adjective meaning "flighty and flamboyant").

Photo by Stefan.lefnaer

Here is the everlasting pea (Lathyrus latifolius) for even more papilionaceousness. Although it's not native to the US, its rather long-lasting flower clusters do hold up well when cut... so perhaps when you are viciously eradicating it to preserve native species, you can show a little bit of humanity by putting a few blooms in a vase.

Native Violets: "Weed" or "Wildflower?"

Gardeners often classify plants into two neat categories: desirable ornamentals, which we love,  cherish, and purchase; and those unwanted, self-seeding vagabonds, the weeds. 

Even though reality is quite a bit more nuanced than that, I still fall into that trap myself-- even if a plant is interesting-- perhaps even pretty-- I can flippantly dismiss it with a callous brush of a hand, muttering, "Only a weed." An example of this, for instance, is that small, creeping euphorbia (or spurge) commonly called milkweed (E. peplus) that crops up along driveway edges and gravel pavements. In all honesty, it is just as invasive as an "ornamental" spurge I bought at a nursery, and, although small and annual, has a similar look to those "desirable" spurges from nurseries.

But there is a more useful-- and, thankfully, rather widely-used-- definition of a weed: any plant that grows where you don't want it. 

The little native violet Viola sororia likes partially-shaded lawns. They seem to be innocuous wildflowers when their petite purple flowers appear in spring, but their ability to produce explosive seedpods even after the flowering season is past enables them to colonize swathes of ground. They can withstand mowing, blasts of herbicide, and the dedicated application of a trowel... but their native tenacity cannot be quashed. At least the flowers and leaves are edible (but don't expect to harvest your own lettuce replacement from now on). Lone Pine's Wildflowers of Tennessee guide notes that "Pound for pound, violet blossoms are said to contain more vitamin C than oranges."

I suppose your own classification for the "common blue violet" depends on your viewpoint. But there are other fascinating native violets with less invasive tendencies-- and these are showcased at the Huntsville Botanical Garden's rhododendron and trillium collections.

In the foreground is a non-native-type viola, which likely self-seeded. Behind is the "Confederate Violet" (V. sororia 'Priceana'), so named because the combination of white with bluish striping resembles the gray of CSA uniforms. It shares plain sororia's colonizing habit.

The yellow woodland violet (V. pubescens).

V. pubescens.

This looks to be a white variant of sororia, or perhaps sagittata.

Another white variant.

Could it be sororia? The leaves look rather long and narrow... perhaps sagittata.

Many nurseries-- even ones specializing in native plants-- don't carry a large assortment of native violets; I'd recommend checking out Gardens in the Wood of Grassy Creek, which sells very robust, healthy plants, and carries native species as well as a large selection of sweet violets (V. odorata).

Maybe the common blue violet is, in fact, a weed in your lawn. But other native violets self-seed much less prolifically, and make excellent additions to a shaded perennial border.

'Dorothy Perkins,' A Landscape Fixture

When late spring comes around, it is rose season-- and my eyes are peeled for those distinctive leaves and rounded flowers, anticipating the discovery of another lovely plant. One encounters some more frequently than others-- some ad nauseam-- but the wichurana rambler 'Dorothy Perkins' is one I never tire of. In Tennessee, I've seen it scrambling along roadsides, through fencerow thickets, and against derelict outbuildings. Sometimes it's unexpected appearances are rather puzzling-- a testament to its resilience and popularity with gardeners of the not-too-distant past.

Introduced in 1901, 'Dorothy Perkins' is a cross between R. wichurana and a hybrid perpetual (HMF). In my estimation, it is exactly what one would look for in that cross: the vigor of wichurana is slightly reined in, and instead of the small white flowers of the species, we enjoy larger, double pink ones. No scent-- but you can't please everyone.

'Dorothy Perkins,' growing in a Middle Tennessee fencerow.

R. wichurana 'Poteriifolia'-- this is a relatively dwarf form of wichurana, but as you can see that hasn't stopped it from staking out a substantial claim at the Atlanta Botanical Garden.

Rosa wichurana. All photos with the HMF copyright notice in the corner are my own.

The namesake Dorothy was the granddaughter Mr. Perkins, the founder of noted rose-growing firm Jackson and Perkins (Botanica's Roses). 'Dorothy' is charming, with exuberant small clusters of blooms appearing once per season in a magnificent flush. But there's no perfect rose, and 'Dorothy Perkins' has its foibles; foremost is a tendency to display powdery mildew on the buds and growing tips (you can see some mildew-whitened buds in the above picture). Many of my sitings of this variety had a spot of mildew; although this does nothing to hamper the long-term health of the plant, it can disfigure some of the leaves in severe cases. 

Being a child of R. wichurana, 'Dorothy Perkins' has domineering tendencies. Wichurana itself cannot suppress its imperial ambitions and will conquer as much space as is allowed to it, arching its canes over the ground and rooting at regular intervals. Although 'Dorothy' will sometimes be found growing this way, it makes fewer, stronger canes, and can be used as a true climber-- unlike wichurana, which is content to be a wiry creeper.

I get most of my pleasure out of this variety by remembering its associations with rural TN communities, where it grows in a semi-naturalized state wherever it was once planted, even if the original gardener is long gone. It is one of the foremost classic "passalong plants:" it's easy to root, untroubled by disease, and will grow with a minimum of human care. Instead of begin known to its growers as 'Dorothy Perkins,' it was likely propagated and exchanged informally under such names as "the hedgerow rose."

You can buy 'Dorothy Perkins' at a specialty nursery-- but hopefully you won't have to. Look around in late spring for one of these plants blooming by the roadside, and try a few cuttings (of course, complying with "rose rustling" etiquette). 

And now, as to the once-blooming nature of 'Dorothy Perkins': repeat-blooming roses are great, but it is also fitting to enjoy older varieties that bloom but once per season. Graham Stuart Thomas (I think) said it best, by inquiring of readers if such garden staples as forsythia, flowering cherry, etc. are spurned simply because they bloom once, in their respective season. Additionally, there's that schmaltzy metaphysical argument that goes thus: certain roses' habit of flowering once forces us to treasure and appreciate their blooms all the more. 

'Dorothy Perkins' is a breath of fresh air, bringing to gardens and waysides a seasonal burst of ephemeral beauty; what a contrast to the garish and synthetic ornaments modern life bombards us with. 

Some Thoughts on 'Knock Out' (And Seedlings)

'Knock Out': a name familiar to every rosarian, almost everyone with an interest in gardening, and a substantial portion of Americans who happen to have a sunny bit of yard, which very likely is ornamented with a few of these cheery shrubs.

The unmistakeable, repeat-blooming, carmine-flowered 'Knock Out' was bred by William J. Radler in 1988 and released in the US by Star Roses in 2000 (HMF). Since then, it has marched steadily across suburbia, all sorts of landscaping schemes, and into virtually every nursery or big box store. It is, perhaps, the paragon of the modern shrub rose-- floriferous, disease-resistant, brightly-colored, and inclined to make a nicely-shaped bush over time. The cultivar's popularity is undeniably deserved, and I'm sure that it has done much for Rosa's PR, dispelling the old myths that characterize all roses as cantankerous, greedy divas requiring a constant diet of unpleasant "chemicals" to bloom well. 

But I'll be the first to admit that my relationship with 'Knock Out' is a little more complicated. First, I want to unequivocally establish that I have nothing but respect for William Radler and his magnificent variety. Frankly it is hard to imagine where the rose industry would be without 'Knock Out,' and I'm not sure that non-rose-fanatics would be planting those new durable "landscape roses" if 'Knock Out' and its marketing had not come about first and spread the word on easy-care roses. We're finally away from the tyranny of the hybrid tea, and I think that this can be attributed, at least in part, to 'Knock Out.' 

The shift from bloom-atop-thorny stick roses to varieties in the 'Knockout' mold was a momentous regime change. The dominance of one was replaced by the dominance of the other. Looking at the microcosm of devoted rosarians, who love their collections of unique varieties-- the vast majority of which are obtained only from specialty nurseries or other collectors-- planting one variety en masse, at every house and parking lot, is anathema to the quite old horticultural philosophy that prizes variety and diversity. Suppose, then, that a non-rosarian spies a splendid 'Knockout' (or one of the double or pink sorts) festooned in bloom. Imagine that they say, "Oh, what a lovely rose!" They know that you like roses, and they look over to you for your input. How strong temptation is at this moment! How delicious it would be to quip "Ah, another Knock Out. You can find those vulgar things at every gas station in town."

Although our imaginary discussion is perhaps not too realistic, it is easy to become jaded with 'Knock Out' planted everywhere as far as the eye can see, when it is is very likely that other varieties could fill the same niche just as well, and offer more diversity in color and form to boot. But it is especially easy-- for me, at least-- to direct my distaste for bad landscaping plans and monoculture in general (think of such things as Bradford pears and variegated privet) towards Rosa's choice submission for use in this unfortunately prevalent trend. The truth of the matter is that I rather like 'Knock Out;' and I'm sure that somewhere in the world, "gas station gold" variegated euonymus and Bradford pears are actually acceptable (If someone would like to tell me where that place is, please do). But I'm still perched squarely atop my horticultural high horse-- why on earth would I plant a 'Knock Out' when I could plant something obscure and fascinating, like a Penzance sweetbriar or a hybrid of a North American species? Of course, you should plant whatever you want, since you garden for you, and not for ranting rosarian snobs (to be clear-- virtually every rose grower I've met has been quite pleasant and decidedly un-snobbish).

Now about monoculture, and the inevitable mention of dreaded rose rosette. In Tennessee, rose rosette has had a veritable party. Perhaps every other 'Knock Out' I came across had the telltale witches brooms and unnaturally red growth. Although there is likely much better discussion of this subject on the Rose Hybridizers Association Forum, it is well-known that monoculture is especially conducive to disease, so perhaps landscapers' penchant for 'Knock Out' had something to do with RRD's spread. When some of my own roses exhibited rose rosette symptoms, I did some looking about, and noted that a neighbor had a near-dead infected 'Double Knock Out'-- perhaps not the responsible party, but nonetheless suspect. More likely the invasive populations of R. multiflora, which appears to be particularly susceptible, should bear the brunt of the blame.

A family member's un-deadheaded 'Double Knock Out' had a productive season a few years ago, and some of the resultant seedlings gave me my first taste of tiny repeat-bloomers pushing out their first flower with only a few leaves underneath (They almost strike me as semi-suicidal in this respect).

'Knock Out' is a great variety with a lot of uses, and it's made many people happy. But, landscapers-- could you ease up on it a bit? There are lots of other excellent varieties, too, and you know the adage about "too much of a good thing."