Wild means wild
The season is almost upon us here in Western New York. Snowdrops came and went in early February, though I see just a few late bloomers emerging—they might be some fancy hybrids I put in last September. I don’t bother with crocuses, but do expect plenty of lesser-used ephemerals—like eranthis—and I would love to have some early native wildflowers. But therein lies the rub. They just don’t want to stay. I’ve tried. We have an excellent native plant nursery nearby that has supplied Central Park and others, and several area garden centers make an effort with woodland natives. So far, however, I’ve pretty much wasted my money.
I was warned about mayapple (Podophyllum), but no need—it’s been introduced into a few shady, dampish places, but it couldn’t care less. It refuses to take over my garden, as my mother-in-law said it would.
Hepatica disappeared almost immediately. Trillium struggles, and the jury’s still out on Arisaema triphyllum. I do fine with Solomon’s Seal (Polygonatum), but, then, who doesn’t?
The one wildflower I really love is Erythronium americanum, which is abundant throughout our local preserves and some parks. I accept that it will never thrive in my domestic landscape, and that’s actually OK. The Erythronium pagoda hybrid lasts longer, has bigger, waxier flowers and forms a beautiful glossy collar around our front cherry tree, though I’ve disturbed the bulbs many times while planting others. Pagoda is a hybrid from two Western US native erythronium, and (strangely) either of those tends to do better for me than the americanum. If the pagoda foliage lasted all summer, it would be the perfect plant.
And maybe this is the way it should be. I’ll keep my own garden in its unnaturalized splendor, with pots of tulips placed here and there and hybrids aplenty. I can always visit the wildflowers somewhere else.
on March 8, 2016 at 12:27 pm, in the category It’s the Plants, Darling.