If you’re looking for an indestructible perennial to grow along Colorado’s Front Range, you can’t beat bearded irises. They’re tough, hardy to zone 3. They’re drought tolerant. They aren’t fussy about soil. Deer and rabbits leave them alone (for the most part). And they come in nearly every color in the rainbow—and then some. How can you lose?
When you think of container gardens, what comes to mind? Red geraniums in a window box? A hanging pot filled with colorful petunias? How about pots of herbs on the window sill? How about a huge pot overflowing with varied textures, colors, and shapes? When it comes to container gardens, that geranium is only the beginning.
It’s easy to understand why we want to include Sweet William, Lamb’s Ears, or Love-in-a-Mist in our gardens. Their whimsical names make us smile. On the other hand, it’s surprising anyone grows plants with names such as fumewort, blood lily, or wormwood. They sound awful! In fact, these plants are quite beautiful, as you can see below (clockwise from upper right).
What genus of flower is beloved by millions? Comes in every color of the rainbow (except green), plus black and white? Has species native to Hawaii—and the Andes? Can bloom through the snow in the dead of winter? Is tolerant of wet soil—or survives drought? Handles full sun or shade with equal enthusiasm? Includes annuals, biennials, and perennials? Always elicits a smile? Is the “birth flower” of February? The lowly Violas—which include pansies and violets—are all this and more.
Just as each month is associated with a particular birthstone (January’s being a garnet), so is each month paired with a particular flower. According to folklore, each of these flowers symbolized specific characteristics, which were in turn assigned to those born during that month. While some claim this custom arose with the Roman empire, I suspect that the florist industry might also have had something to do with it.
Well, it turns out that January’s “birth flower” is the carnation. Carnations are on my Top Ten list of flowers. They’re pretty, typically inexpensive, last a long time as a cut flower, and have a scent that I swoon over. Apparently, I’m in good company. Their genus, Dianthus, comes from the Greek for “flower of the gods.” How appropriate! (more…)
At this time of year, most plants are bent on making seeds, not blossoms. Not so the dahlias. Among the blowsy seedheads and fading foliage, their vibrant colors declare that the season isn’t over yet.
My parents retired to Mendocino, on the coast north of San Francisco. There, the cool but mild climate is similar to that of England, and dahlias (indeed, most perennials) thrive. Those my dad grew were as big as dinner plates! I admit to jealousy. Here in Colorado, it’s not so simple; you have to want to grow dahlias. Spectacular flowers in flamboyant hues are your reward.
In a field crowded with contenders, I have a new favorite wildflower. This plant is incredible—large, flashy, tough, gorgeous. What more could you want? Best of all, it’s thriving in my yard. I’m in love.
Most four o’clocks are sedate, old-fashioned garden flowers, something you’d see surrounding a cottage, combined with hollyhocks, old roses, and other grandmotherly plants. The Desert Four O’clock (Mirabilis multiflora) is like the grandma who dies her hair brilliant pink, wears short skirts with black fishnet stockings, and rides a Harley.
The scarlet blossoms really do look like bushy paintbrushes dipped in red paint; they’re hard to miss, even in a meadow crowded with wildflowers. Most of us easily identify these iconic perennials, although we may be a bit confused by the species that bloom in pink, white, and yellow.
Here along the Front Range of Colorado, the most common species of paintbrush is Castilleja miniata, more familiarly known as Giant Red Paintbrush. The one- to two-foot plant is easily identified by its long, unbranched stems lined with lance-shaped leaves. They’re topped with colorful bracts, which are usually divided into threes. These bracts are typically red (miniata means “colored red”) but you can also find blooms in shades of orange, salmon, and pink. The actual flowers are yellowish-green tubes that grow to become more visible later in the season.
Most landscapes look terrific in May and June. The leaves are fresh and new. From pink crabapples to purple lilacs, it seems as if everything is in bloom. The contrast with the lifeless browns and grays of winter is enough to send you cavorting across the glowing, emerald green lawn.
It’s tempting—irresistible, really—to rush to the local garden center and buy everything with flowers on it. I’ve been subjected to Facebook photos of flowers since March (I have a lot of friends in California), and finally it’s our turn!
They sound pretty good— perennial plants that:
Mountain Plover 