I tried really hard to come up with a cheesy title for this piece based on the continual 80s music soundtrack I have in my head, and I think I succeeded. Name the band, get a free prairie!* But more to the point, I am in love with seed heads — god, I am enraptured. Gone are the days of blissfully walking among the sugary (literally) summer blooms that are like some teenage pop ballad, here are the days of finding solace and purpose in the twilight of the garden and the prairies beyond. Let’s look at the facts — many seed heads are on full display far longer than any silly bloom, even those that puff away on a windy day are right on par with how long the petals flashed their alluring, window-shopper-attracting pizzazz. Give me the afterimage, the negative space, the echo that stirs deeper in my heart over a long winter; give me the memory of life and the hope and faith of its return, oh that sweet anticipation like flirting across the room, dreaming up all the possibilities and potential of a wonderful tomorrow. Am I twisted? How can I convince you of the late fall and winter garden’s superiority? Maybe I can’t, but I’ll try.
Above is purple prairie clover (Dalea purpurea) backlit with little bluestem and sideoats grama. Tell me you wouldn’t lay down right there and be happy forever.
What about Amsonia illustris? Aren’t those seed heads fantastically strange and unique? Like boney fingers reaching out to pull you into another dimension.
Here’s a 6′ tall ironweed (Vernonia fasciculata) that towers most awesomely above other perennials in my garden. Even after the “iron” of its seeds are gone, the form is still flattering from December to April — and birds love perching up there.
Dwarf blue indigo (Baptisia australis minor) looks like a burned, puffed up marshmallow over a campfire. It also makes a good baby rattle. Give me 30 of these.
Joe pye weed stuns in a heavy frost. Try Eupatorium (now Eutrochium) purpureum or maculatum for nice height and a lovely clumping habit.
We’ve got a threefer going on here: Liatris, wild senna (Senna hebecarpa, to the right with dangly black seed pods), and stout indian grass lit up in the back by sunlight. Wowzers.
Any goldenrod will do, but the clumped, fluffy tops of stiff goldenrod (Solidago rigida) would make a mighty fine pillow.
The ornamental power of our gardens does not end in fall. Winter is not depressing, not something to get through, not a joy killer at all if you plant for it. And of course we all know that when you leave the plants up you’re helping protect them, providing food and shelter for wildlife, and increasing organic matter. Flowers? Bah humbug.
* Free prairie offer is contingent on your converting 20 million acres of lawn (50%) in the U.S. to sustainable, native plant, wildlife-friendly gardens.
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