As the US celebrates Independence Day, we celebrate some of teh countries prettiest flowers.
I'M THINKING ABOUT the United States today – a country where I spent a good portion of my childhood. It is a land that is passionate about its symbols, so much so that they are recognised the world over. American flag? Yes. American national bird? Of course. American national anthem? Certainly. American floral emblem? Pause. Quick run through possibles. Could it be the grand old Magnolia grandifloraof the south, or the dogwood, which has spread its species right across the country? Or maybe the common sunflower –native or naturalised in every one of the 50 states?
No, it is none of these. The floral emblem of the United States is, surprisingly, the rose. That stumped you, didn't it? Or at least it did me anyway (and each of the seven Americans that I asked as well). As it happens, the rose was proclaimed the national floral emblem only in 1986, by the late president Ronald Reagan. Although it may seem curious to choose a flower that was already famously linked to England, it's not the act of plagiarism that it seems. Roses are endemic in every one of the 50 states, except for Hawaii, and even there, the so-called Cherokee rose, Rosa laevigata(which is, in fact, from China), has become naturalised.
Still, as a gardener, there are other plants that I would associate more readily with the land of the free and the home of the brave – and without which our gardens would be a lot less interesting. Many of these are native to prairies and damp meadows – environments where there is plenty of competition, so plants often take until the second half of the summer to build up enough energy for flowering. One of these species that has emigrated happily into Irish borders is Eupatorium purpureum, a native of the eastern half of the United States. In its home territory the towering, purple-topped plant goes by the more memorable appellation of Joe Pye weed – which, according to one story, was the name of the native American who used its roots to cure New England colonists of typhoid fever. On the other hand "jopi" is the native American word for "fever", which prompts a more mundane explanation.
The rudbeckias, or coneflowers, come from similar habitats. Their jolly yellow and orange daisy heads have been much sought-after by nurseries in Germany, where they have been bred and selected, and reintroduced to the world with German cultivar names. One of the best known is the hybrid 'Goldsturm', often seen at the front of large planting schemes. And one to place at the back, where it can bounce and sway its green-bobbled yellow sun hats, is the two-metre-tall 'Herbstsonne', a cultivar of R. laciniata. The grasslands of the United States are awash with a canary-coloured tide of perennial daisies, many of which have found their way into gardens the world over (and often via the German route). Among them are tickseed ( Coreopsis), sneezeweed ( Helenium), sunflower ( Helianthus), oxeye ( Heliopsis) and rosinweed ( Silphium). The well-named goldenrod ( Solidago), although it looks nothing like a daisy, is a member of the same family. I have a special fondness for this plant because it reminds me of my Minnesota grandmother, who claimed that it gave her hayfever – something which I have since discovered is not possible because the pollen is not windborne. Nonetheless, when goldenrod was in flower during the hottest and most unbearable time of the year, she often prescribed herself a month's leave from family duties and retreated to a lakeside resort where the pollen-free breezes also happened to lower the temperature by several degrees.
Goldenrod, and indeed, all the American daisies (which includes the Echinacea and Aster genera, and indeed Eupatorium, although you might not think it) have heavy, adhesive pollen, specifically designed so that it can be easily transferred from one flower to another by insects. As advance payment for this delivery service, the pollen-carrier is offered some rather nice nectar, making these New World perennials a hit with bees and butterflies.
All of the above require a moderately moisture-retentive soil: they won't do well in a dry town plot, or in the sandy soil of a coastal garden. But there are plants from the USA that suit the most arid of gardens. Gaura lindheimeri, known as Lindhheimer's beeblossom in its native states of Texas and Louisiana, is well adapted to a sunny and moisture-starved soil. It has a springy, airy habit, with white flowers that resemble tiny, ghostly butterflies flitting in the breeze. The more compact variety 'Siskiyou Pink' is readily available, and has rosy blooms. California, of course, gives us heaps of sun-loving species (anything with californicain its name) including the silky orange California poppy, Eschscholzia californica, which was designated the state flower in 1890.
Among the plants also proposed for that role was Romneya coulteri, which sadly, received no votes. But never mind, it is a spectacular (if tricky to establish) garden plant, with its great fried egg blooms. It was discovered by Dundalk man Thomas Coulter, who in 1832 became the first naturalist to traverse the scorching desert terrain of California, ending up at the lower Colorado River in what is now Arizona. He later described this area as "truly the Kingdom of Desolation".
The floral gift of this great country to the rest of the world also includes hundreds of other plants, from snow-melt-drenched mountain sides, moist and shady woodlands, and many other habitats. There are 17,000 species of plants indigenous to the USA, compared to about 800 on this little island of ours. I bet that if one were to do a census of a well-planted Irish garden, there would be more American emigrants than native Paddies.
DIARY DATES
Today and tomorrow (July 4th-5th), 2.30-5pm: garden open at 50 Killyman Road, Dungannon, Co Tyrone. Refreshments, raffle, band. Admission £4, in aid of Northern Ireland Chest, Heart and Stroke
TO DO THIS WEEK
Shrubs that flower in early summer, such as Abelia, Deutzia, Weigela, and the sweetly scented mock orange ( Philadelphus) can be pruned immediately after flowering. This prevents the plant from putting its energy into making seed, and redirects it back into its other parts. With a sharp secateurs, prune the flowering shoots to a strong bud. Then, if the shrub is well established, and looks congested, remove about one fifth of the stems by cutting them right back to the base. Take out the weakest or most awkwardly placed stems first. Be sure to stand back and look at what you're doing as you go. It's easy to get carried away while you are snipping away merrily, but sadly, pruned shoots cannot be stuck back on again. If the soil is dry, the shrub will enjoy a good, long watering followed by mulching with well rotted manure, or compost, or even bark chips. If you use the latter, add a handful of pelleted poultry manure, or general fertiliser to the soil first.