PLANT PROFILES

ALLIUMS--"Summer Beauty" and "Mongolian Gem"

Currently I have no photos of my alliums and I don't want to lift someone else's to put here.  I would suggest you google if you want to see a photo, or better yet come out and see them in person!

Let's say your gardening skills stink, your yard is a hot sunny wasteland,  and rabbits run rampant in your neighborhood.  But you pine for something that has pretty flowers on it, and maybe would coax some butterflies into your yard.   Before you  drive to the dollar store and rifle through the silk flowers and hope that no one will notice that your flowers never stop blooming and never grow any taller, despite the fact that they appeared in your garden overnight, check this out:   Alliums may be just the thing for you.

Simply put, Alliums are members of the onion family.  They all grow from a bulb of one size or another and share some other characteristics between them.  They all have  onion-ish scented leaves.  They all like full sun, average soil,  and are very trouble free.  Rabbits, deer and any other varmints you might have don't like them.  Bugs aren't overly fond of eating the leaves either, but butterflies and bees are very attracted to the flowers.  And there are flowers.  Lots of flowers.  Starting in July these two varieties begin throwing  their pinky/purple-y blooms  that will look like so many starry, girly ping pong balls.  They both get to be about 18-24" tall, carrying their flowers over perfectly neat straplike leaves.  They stay in a clump shape and make lovely little mounds.  Eventually the mounds will grow in size, but when that happens,  they are super easy to manage.  In the spring, dig the clump up and you will see what look like scallions.  Pull them apart with your hands (hosing the root ball off will make this easier) into the size you want.  Replant the clumps--either add more to your flower bed, or make some other struggling gardener's day by engaging in the time honored practice of "pass along" plants. 

Once bloom is finished,  you have your choice.  "Mongolian Gem" will reseed itself, so you may want to take the flower heads off.  As for the childless "Summer Beauty", just leave them alone.  The flower heads will dry and still look so very pretty in your fall garden.  This will leave you free to do other joyous tasks like raking leaves and cleaning up after your dogs before the snow flies.  Come spring, the old stems pull out with minimal effort, you scruff around and get the old leaves out of the clump and you're off to the races.  A worthy plant on so many levels, and even though they are not native (From Tibet and Europe) they provide nectar for a lot of insects.

If you want your alliums to have a friend of a similar look and  scale, I can't think of a finer friend than Prairie Dropseed, either the standard size, or the dwarf sized "Tara". 

SPOROBOLIS--Prairie Dropseed

Since I listed this as a good companion to the Alliums in the first post, it's time to tell you about Prairie Dropseed.  I sell the regular variety, as well as a dwarf version called "Tara". 

Where to start--do you walk past the grass section at the nursery.  BORING.  Or even worse do you have what my friend, Ben, and I call "Hillbilly grass"--the big, clumsy miscanthus varieties that will slice you to bits when you get near them, and grow into big clumps that become a foliar bed of nails when you cut them back in spring?  Do you have a pretty, polite garden that would be okay with a grass if it didn't look  (and act) like some planty version of Godzilla next to your pretty little flowers?  You might be suprised to find that there are a number of plants that meet this criteria--and you have been probably breezing past them for years, en route to the hot red dahlias and the icy blue salvias. 

But grasses are boring, you say--i have a lawn full of grass--why put it in my garden.  So let me tell you a little bit about Sporobolis.   Unlike our lawn grasses some grasses grow in nice rounded clumps. Some of the clumps have leaves that kind of stick straight up, so the clump looks like a sleeping hedgehog.  Some of the clumps have longer leaves and they poke up and then drift over in a sort of fountain effect.  That is what the standard size Prairie Dropseed does.  The dwarf is more of the hedgehog effect.  But these lovely plants stay where they are planted--they do not runner and aren't really aggressive seeders as a rule.  The clumps slowly get bigger and grander as the plant ages.  When they do flower-they send up nice tall seedheads in a tawny color that still looks wonderful.  The blooms are "see through" in that they do not block you from seeing what is behind them--rather now you see through a gentle scrim of bloom. 

The leaves of Prairie Dropseed are very fine and thin and of a nice medium green.  Between the texture and the color, they enhance whatever they are planted with.  And the rounded shape makes for a perfect border planting.  Along with their propensity to be nice to their neighbors, they make them look good too!  It's always wise (especially if you have a garden of limited size--which most homes do) to consider whether your new plant plays nice.  This grass plays very nice, and is often used in difficult sites like roadside plantings where plants have to fend for themselves and not choke out the entire neighborhood. 

The fact that Prairie Dropseed is used in these challenging settings should also tell you something about its very undemanding  care.   Sporobolis is tolerant of hot sun and once established  dry soils don't bother it either.    In the spring I give mine a buzz cut with the clippers and scruff out the old blades from the clump.  If it needed division--which it hasn't yet--I would dig it up and using a clean sharp knife, cut it into sections and replant. 

Since it is native to our area, the local birds and critters are familiar with it.  The seeds are favored by the birds--it is said they smell like popcorn.  Not sure what the bird equivalent of movie theatre butter is--bug guts or something.  It also wouldn't surprise me if some of the little ground sparrows didn't use the grass blades to weave their delicate little nests.    And if you want a companion plant idea, Echinacea tenneseensis  comes to mind!

 ECHINACEA tennesseensis



Pictured right in the center foreground--E.  tennesseensis



Somewhere in the Cedar glades of Tennessee, there lived a little pink flower.  Because of certain ecological events, it had become isolated from its relations, and developed into a seperate species. 

 Once thought to be extinct, it was found, protected by land purchases funded by The Nature Conservancy, and has now been removed from the federal list of endangered plants.  Even so, it naturally occurs in only a few places, and the variety we have in horticultural use is slightly different from the pure form.  That being said, this is a wonderful , somewhat unique version of the vast tribe of ornamental echinaceas--many of which are overbred to Frankensteinian proportions, and have become almost useless to wildlife.  It cannot be said to be a "true" E. tennesseensis because once in cultivation the plant hybridizes freely and while it may still look like its ancestral form, the genetic makeup is not pure.  Often times sold as a cultivar (variety) called "Rocky Top"  the variety I have is simply called "tenneseensis hybrids".    This plant is lovely in sunny dry sites.  A taprooted plant, it needs nice easy soil to grow in, a steady supply of moisture while establishing itself, and then dry conditions when it matures.  IT IS VERY IMPORTANT  that the growing site is well drained.  If you have a clay type soil, do yourself a favor and pass this plant by.  You may get one year of pretty growth, but your baby will eventually rot out and disappear.  Butterflies and bees adore this plant, and a nice clump in full flower with its slender furry leaves and soft magenta-ish daisy like blooms is really a lovely sight.  Once the bloom has passed, leave the seedheads alone, and you will be treated in the fall to the sight of goldfinches hanging from the stems, like pretty little pendants as they feed. 

A magical, lovely presence in your garden.  Thanks, Tennessee--I owe you one!

Persicaria polymorpha

Persicaria polymorpha (right side) in the morning light

A grand name for a grand plant.  Say it at a party and impress your friends.  It kind of rolls off the tongue and will seem ever so smart and stylish.  And this is a smart and stylish plant to boot.  While not native, I have seen quite a few insects on the blooms.  It doesn't seem to attract butterflies or bees, but other nectar seeking insects are happy to patronize it.  And while this is a BIG plant with a dramatic presence, it is very mild mannered in the garden.  You have to be aware of the size it will grow to (well over 5 feet tall and probably 3 ft. wide) and not plant some delicate little foo foo thing at its feet.  It's kind of like my dog, Shambles.  She is ever so pretty and happy, and then she knocks dinner on the floor just because she wanted to put her feet up on the table to see what's cookin. 

But in the right place, this is a plant that will stop traffic.  It likes full sun and average soils with average water.  A shovelful of compost in the spring is about all the extra feeding it needs.  Growing to this great height, with clean leaves, it covers itself in early summer with white plumelike flowers.  Despite its height and girth, it doesn't fall over, and more importantly--despite the plethora of flowers, you won't see a seedling anywhere.  It apparently is sterile.  And the big fingerlike rootstock doesn't roam around--your plant will stay right where you plant it and simply become bigger and grander and lovelier each year. 
I have had some problems dividing this plant--so be careful if you attempt it.  you may lose some of your divisions, so wait until the plant is large enough to give you something that will remain if some of your divisions die.   
If you want something that looks like a mass planting in a somewhat small space--this plant will get you there.  If you want a hedge or screen that will disappear in the winter--same thing.  And certain kinds of light will take this plant from the (already) sublime to the downright transcendent.  I put it in a central flower bed in my front yard.  Not thinking about the fact that the eastern morning sun glows right across that part of my yard, I was amazed to see this plant illuminated on summer mornings by a brilliant shaft of light that sparkled across it.  Didn't plan it, but I take credit for it ALL.  THE.  TIME.  

Big.  Easy.  Dramatic.  Fun to say at parties.  What more do you need?


Echinacea paradoxa

This morning I learned something new--the origin of the word Echinacea is Greek and it means "sea urchin" or "hedgehog".  When you look at the central cone of a cone flower you can understand why. 

Coneflowers are some our most beautiful native flowers.  They come in many forms, but not a wide variety of colors.  This is the exception--hence the species name "paradoxa".  Bewilderingly--it also seems to carry the common name "Bush's Purple Coneflower".  I can only surmise that whoever this "Bush" was he or she was colorblind.  This is a YELLOW coneflower

And now for an educational (I hope) rant.   Let's think for a minute about native plants and why we want them in our yards.  Insects and plants have evolved together.  Kind of like married couples--they spend centuries (or what may seem like centuries to some people) in each other's company.  As time goes on, because insects have rapid regeneration times and lots of babies, and plants make lots of seeds--the probability of mutation is high.  Some of these mutations turn out to be beneficial  for both the plants and insects in some way, and so as the population shifts to include these helpful mutations, their lives become increasingly woven together.   And as go the insects, so goes the food chain. (It's more of a web--but details-details!) More happy healthy insects equals more happy healthy everything else--from spiders to mice and birds to foxes and hawks and owls.  A plant that is so desperately yummy that the bugs eat it down to nothing won't last long enough to form any kind of significant population--rather the plant that is nice and edible but has some kind of defenses against  the buggy onslaught will succeed.  I have a species of dogwood that gets defoliated every single year by a caterpillar that looks for all the world like bird poop.  (So the birds ignore it).  Knowing that caterpillars are quite host specific (and the fact that this is the ONLY plant I ever see this caterpillar eating) I just left well enough alone.  I figured that the plant must have developed a strategy to cope with the problem and wanted to see what would happen.  The following year, the dogwood leafed out just fine.  It has been fine ever since.  Turns out these are the larval form of the Dogwood Sawfly--which eats the leaves but doesn't kill the plant, since it happens so late in the year.  And the adults?  Well--they damage plant leaves to some extent, but they are also food for many birds--especially Chickadees.  It's a tradeoff I can live with. 

So what happens when we fill our yards with "RARE!!! chinese sneezing orchids" or other denizens from faraway places, real or imagined?  If we are lucky, they will provide something the fauna in our yards can use--nectar for energy, seeds to eat, cover to hide in or nesting material.  But often times these plants fall short in the food department.  The insects haven't co-evolved, so like fussy children who don't eat their spinach, these vital insects refuse to take a taste. And scientific evidence has found that insect populations adapt very slowly to new food sources unless the food is from the same family (Swallowtails can eat other members of the Queen Anne's Lace family like dill and parsley, for example).  If we are lucky enough to have neighbors that still grow food plants, the bugs will just favor their yards--and the population will restabilize at a lower level.  But what if NOBODY has dandelions in their (exotic plant filled) lawns, no goldenrod, no serviceberry trees, no violets,  no hawthorns for miles around?  There is no food--either for the insects themselves or their kids.  Is there any wonder why neighborhoods are host to the same types of birds all over the country?  Sparrows and starlings--both birds from other lands that eat garbage and scraps and whatever they can find.  Robins can forage in our lawns and make a living, and House Finches can survive at our feeders.  Maybe a Cardinal or two.  The diversity in the insect world is gone, and so the diversity of birds follows right in line.  And they didn't use canaries in the coal mines for no reason.  Birds told the miners of the habitability in the mine.  And they are telling us the same thing above the ground, in our own yards.

So how does that relate to Echinacea paradoxa?  This native plant has evolved in place with the insects and birds and animals that share its home.  And like most other Echinaceas that are still close to their wild form, it provides a wonderful thread for the spinning of the food web.   Many insects feed on the nectar of Echinaceas, and  some feed on the leaves (we call them "pests" but should refrain from spraying them if at all possible).   More than likely there are critters underground who make use of the roots in some way.  And if you ever want to see happy birds celebrating in your yard, Echinacea and Evening Primrose (the tall yellow ones) will do the trick.  The seeds are much sought after food source.  Goldfinches and Pine Siskins will find you as sure as shootin'.

Now a cautionary word.  This particular Echinacea is really lovely.  It like full sun to (slight) part shade and must have well drained soil.  It is quite slow growing (after 3 years from starting seed I finally have plants that are looking like actual plants, not seedlings) so you must be patient. While a mature plant will be about 2 feet tall, they will be overwhelmed if they have to compete with aggressive neighbors in the first year or two.  So choose your planting site with care.  Put them near something else that stays in a clump or spreads slowly--like Sporobolis or Carex or Asclepias tuberosa (orange butterfly weed).  Mark your plant with a nice permanent stake that won't disintegrate in winter or snap off when you catch your heel on it and keep an eye on it.  Don't let it lanquish under 6 inches of oak leaves through the winter that will rot it off.  You won't need to over feed or fertilize it either--just give it room to make its own way and let it go.  This is a plant that is most effective planted in groups of 3 or so rather than single specimens.    A single one won't have the impact you are looking for because the plant itself is wispy and slender by nature--but they were evolved to grow in groups, so they look best that way. 

If you want Echinacea but aren't sure about taking on this one--look for the old variety "Ruby Star" or "Rubinstern".  Its pinky/purple like the species, but more attractive, and very hardy and adaptable and will grow to a nice size with ease.


Liatris

Liatris with a very fleeting annual; "Miss Wilmott's Ghost"

Okay--You want a garden that is friendly to wildlife.  And you want pretty flowers.  Fair enough--wildlife likes pretty flowers too.  Here is a genus of wildflowers that delivers on the promise. 

Liatris are native wildflowers with varying ranges depending on the species, but most overlap to some extent.  There are several that occur in Indiana, and some that naturally come close to our borders but don't  quite cross the boundary

Known in the florist trade for a long time because of their very significant ornamental value, Liatris are as beloved by insects as they are by people.  Monarch butterflies are highly attracted to the blooms of Liatris--if you want to develop an area for Monarchs to use,  plant swamp milkweed (Asclepias incarnata) so they can lay their eggs and the babies can grow, and then nectar sources, such as more milkweed (Asclepias tuberosa) and Liatris.  In addition for being a nectar source, Liatris are used by certain butterflies and moths as food for their babies.   Remember--moths and butterflies are host specific--meaning that their babies (caterpillars) only feed on certain things.  I read a study of bagworms (YUCK!) that were on a small tree.  There were so many bagworms on the tree that they ate all the leaves and were still hungry.  There was a honeysuckle vine entwined in the tree, but the bagworms didn't touch the leaves of the vine--once the tree leaves were all eaten down to nothing, the worms had no more food.  They had been climbing around on the honeysuckle leaves but never even tried to taste them.    So if you want butterflies and moths you have to give them the right reasons to come.  Put up a "Ritz Carlton" sign in your yard and they will seek the accommodations.    Keep up with the foreign, nectarless,  nutritionally bereft flowers and "Motel 6" will still be flashing away. 

So where and how to use Liatris?  Well first off, these are plants native to prairie and rough scrabble areas.  They can often be found growing along railroad sidings in lean, gravelly places.  So that's a big clue that they don't like a lot of moisture.  Don't put this one at the foot of your downspout or in a bog.   Full sun and nice, well drained soil is what they like.  The overall plant is slender and upright--so a group of two or three is most attractive.  They aren't much bothered by pests, and deer don't like them--although they will taste them to see first.    Most Liatris get to be 18-36 inches tall--and in spots they like they will self seed prolifically.  Learn to identify the seedlings--they look like small bits of grass with asymmetrical leaves.  Since Liatris is a bulb, the little baby plant will take a couple years to get to blooming size.    It is lovely in combination with things like black eyed susan,  grasses,  asters (it's a member of the aster family) and the aforementioned asclepias.   Be careful not to overfertlize or mulch heavily--these plants don't need a lot of food and they will get floppy and weak if you let them overindulge.   And they don't like to have their roots in soils that remain damp, as when areas are covered in a layer of deep mulch or leaves.  (Get the picture--LESS care is what they like.)

I have two versions of this most useful plant--one actually occurs naturally in Indiana--Liatris squarrosa, and the other has a natural range that just kisses our Western border--Liatris ligulistylis.  Ligulistylis actually is a little easier in moister ground, so if you have heavier soil it's the one I would try. 
 

ASTERS

The Aster family is big and diverse with many different species, from the tall Michaelmas daisy we see in our meadows late in summer  to the shorter potted ones we spy in Wal Mart alongside the potted mums.    At some point in time the genus name was changed from Aster to Symphiotrichum or Eurybium depending on the characteristics.  Yeah--whatever.   To me they are asters.  After all--if your name was from the Greek word meaning "star" would you want somebody to change it to some word that looked like an eye chart????
Whatever the name, Asters are beautiful plants for the late summer garden.  They are also vitally important to the insect world as nectar sources and as food for certain species of butterfly and moth larvae.  Most of the moths I found when I looked them up on google were the kind of boring little brown guys you hardly even notice.  But they are a food for the higher ups on the food chain (web) so while they aren't ornamental themselves, they nourish one part of the garden that is so beautiful to look at--and one of the main reasons we love our gardens--the birds.   One little butterfly that is very dependent on Aster is the Pearl Crescent--a little orange speckled butterfly that I see in my yard a lot.  The other thing the Asters bring me in abundance is BEES.  If you are like me the sight of actively foraging bees in your garden has now changed in significance.  From what was once a commonplace yawner of a thing is now a cause for great joy.  When the asters are in flower my yard vibrates with the busy wingbeats of these blessed girls.  And BTW did you know that bees also need places to go for a drink of water?  I realized this one year when they began visiting a shallow spot in a water garden en masse one summer.  If you don't have a water garden, take a small bowl and fill it with marbles for them to perch on, then  fill the bowl with water.  Put it where you see them congregating and keep the water changed.  Don't disturb them when they are drinking and your garden will become a vital and favored place for them.

Okay--back to the Asters.  Most of them like full sun, but there are some that will grow in partial or even fairly deep shade.  The calico aster is one, and so is big leaf aster--Aster macrophyllus.  All of them bloom fairly late in the summer--when the days are warm and lazy and the crickets are whirring away in the grass.  Some are tall, like my personal favorite--a  New England aster named "Alma Potschke". This wonderful variety throws up volumes of Raspberry red blooms in late summer that bees and butterflies can't resist.  I usually plant it in association with my other all time favorite plant, Boltonia or false Aster, which also produces clouds of small white daisies at the same time.  Tall and airy, a cloud of flowers in the late season.  Throw in some kind of Bluestem grass and you're just about to nirvana. 

Some Asters are short and rounded.  "October Skies" is an aromatic Aster with a rounded shape.  One haircut before the forth of July will make it shorter and neater, and when late summer rolls around you will have a wonderful cloud of lavender daisies.  The leaves are slightly sticky and scented, which means deer and rabbits will go find something else to wreck instead.  And just like all the others, bees and butterflies will thank you for the gift. 

Aster laevis, "Bluebird" is the "Smooth leafed Aster".  It is also quite tall with very pretty blue green leaves.  This one is not bothered by any leaf pests, and so looks tidy in that respect.  Overall, the impression is casual and "wild" looking--but if you want a cloud of bloom at the back of your flowerbed, this one is great for that.  It's also beloved by butterflies, who flock to its lavender flowers. 

Asters main problems are usually fungal in nature--they have co evolved with the insects that use them, and so normally tolerate being munched on with a resilient humor.   But fungus is another problem--it can rot out and decimate your lovely plants--so you need to head that off at the pass and pay attention to a couple things when you plant them.

Soil that drains well is best--my soil is quite sandy, and they are very happy here.  They will tolerate heavy soils to some extent--but you must make sure in that case to space them well apart, so the air can circulate freely around them.   It's best to forego any kind of spraying for disease since so many insects utilize them.  Mulch is not needed--the excess moisture mulch retains  won't do them any favors, and neither will an overabundance of fertilizer.  These are plants of meadows and rough places.  That's what they like.  Don't pamper them. 

Keep in mind that a few can spread aggressively.  The main one I have that does this is Aster macrophyllus.  It's in a mostly shaded spot and has overrun almost the entire bed.    So if you need a groundcover for dry-ish shade and are okay with a tall plant growing there--this is one to consider.   Just be warned--it spreads like mad--so a small home garden might not be suitable.  Aster tartaricus "Jen Dai" is another one.  This extremely late bloomer (October) is quite tall and stately--but the flowers come so late it doesn't serve the insects in a timely manner.  However the leaves are really beautiful and since that's the part you see the longest, they can add a fun texture to the area.  But they need a lot of room to roam.  Not my top pick among the asters due to its limited value to the ecology of a garden, but still a worthwhile one to consider. 




Boltonia "Snowbank" (left) and Aster "Alma Potschke" (right) What's not to like??

Late summer masses of color.  Low maintenance and a vital link in the food chain.  Symphiotrichum or Aster--whatever you call it.  Get some!


Asarum canadense--Wild Ginger
 

Wild ginger is a true native of our area.  It's widespread range includes most of the US east of the Rockies.  A plant of moist, woodland soils, this lovely plant makes a wonderful ground cover.  Used as a sort of condiment by native Americans and the settlers, use of the food is now discouraged because it has been shown to contain some cancer causing compounds.  But for many years, the root of this plant (which isn't in the ginger family at all--just resembles ginger in flavor) was used as a treatment for sore throats and as a "spice" as well as a dressing for wounds since it also contains some anti-microbial elements. 

The life history of this plant is also very interesting, and it's a good illustration of how plants and local fauna evolve together in ways that benefit both.  When wild ginger flowers, the bloom is hidden below the leaves.  It's a curious little brown affair that sort of lays on the ground.  It has been found that species of flies that eat carrion hatch out and crawl into the flowers since they are little tubes on the ground that resemble a piece of rotting meat in their color.  The flies find a cozy shelter inside the flower and some pollen to eat as they recover from hatching and coming out of the ground.  When they leave, whatever pollen that got stuck to their bodies is taken on to the next flower they find, and so cross pollination occurs.  When the plant develops a seed, it adds a little extra treat to the seed coat that ants like to eat.  The name given this little treat is "elaiosome".  Ants forage for these treats, and when they find them they carry the seeds down into their anthills and feed on them.  The seed is left intact after the elaiosome is eaten, and germinates underground in the anthill.  So basically the plant employs the ant to plant its seeds, and pays the ants with a little snack for doing the work. 

In addition to this, Canadian wild ginger is widely believed to be an alternate host for Pipevine swallowtail caterpillars.  It is in the pipevine family which is the primary host for these butterflies, and caterpillars can make use of this as food, although it does not appear to be as widely used as their primary food source.  Virginia snakeroot, which is also native to this area is a primary food source from the same family. 

Wild ginger is a fairly polite companion for other shade tolerant plants, and makes a great "native" addition to a shady garden containing the non-native hostas and epimediums.  It looks beautiful and quite at home with spring ephemerals too--in a deciduous woody setting, nestled down in the leaf litter.

Prairie Smoke
This lovely American native does not occur naturally in Indiana, but it does grow all around us, in IL and MI.  A member of the Geum family (botanical name is Geum triflorum) it is a very pretty plant for a sunny area with average well drained soil. It can even be found growing in rough sites in gravel.   The name comes from the seedhead, that looks from a distance like smoke--the seeds are on long filaments that spring out from the flower base--it kind of reminds me of the character "Beaker" from the Muppets'  hairdo.  The flower is also very pretty--a nodding little pink  cap that comes in early summer.  This plant is a useful food for  species of bees and butterflies.  The size is small--the clump of attractive fernlike leaves gets to be about a foot high, and the blooms stand somewhat taller at about 16-18 inches.  It does spread underground by rhizomes--but so far in my garden the spread has not been overly aggressive.  Mine are planted in very lean sandy soil that does get watered from time to time if we don't have rain.  I would say that in 3 years the clump has about doubled in size.  This is a plant that appreciates moderate moisture but cannot tolerate soils that remain soggy, especially in winter.  Like most natives, it is undemanding in its culture.   Very attractive when massed, especially from a distance when the seed heads are formed.   Like most of these plants, it looks especially nice in the company of its natural friends.  Prairie dropseed and Bluestem grasses make a lovely counterpoint in texture and color.  Asters and goldenrod like similar conditions and also contrast in leaf type and height, and will extend the period of bloom.

Rudbeckia maxima

R. maxima center right.  You can see the leaves and blooms

This is a wonderful plant that is native in the US but does not naturally occur in Indiana.  It's natural habitat is in open woodlands or moist prairie situations and that should be an indication of the growing conditions that it likes.  My friend, Paul, has grown this for years.  His home is on a hill with very sandy soil that gets minimal extra water.  With very few trees, the amount of shade in his  large yard is quite low, but even in these challenging conditions this plant does very well.  It self seeds freely for him in his gravel pathways. 

R. maxima is a lovely plant in so many ways.  The large leaves are a glaucous blue color, which explains one of the common names "Dumbo Ears".  They stay in a basal rosette, and the glorious flowering stem towers above at a height of 4 feet or more.  The stems are nearly leafless, and carry a long dark coneflower at the top, with a deep brown, almost black cone and drooping yellow petals.  Butterflies are very attracted to this flower, but the real show begins after blooming when the seeds form.  Goldfinches find the seeds irresistible.  The cover photo on the blog shows just exactly that--this photo was snapped out of my office window in the fall, not 20 feet away from where I was sitting.

This is a plant that likes average soils but even moisture.  While Paul's plants seem to thrive with less than ideal moisture, it will be happier if you water it deeply during periods of drought, especially the first year it's planted.  The plant will develop a nice long taproot, which also means it resents transplanting, so choose the site with care.  The clumps will take about 2 years to develop into their full, beautiful form, so you need to be patient.  But when they establish and do their magic they truly are a sight to behold.  I leave the seedheads intact until spring, since they provide some winter interest too.  Mine have not seeded themselves yet, but I suspect the goldfinches are the reason why. 

A really beautiful and worthwhile plant for a sunny spot that needs something tall but not massive in appearance.