Showing posts with label golden alexander. Show all posts
Showing posts with label golden alexander. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Rain garden, one year on

A year ago today I finished my rain garden, and what a wonderful first year it's had! Let's have some classic before-and-after shots! Here is what it looked like when I started:


Here is is completed last spring:


And here it is today!


What is in this rain garden? A mix of water-loving Midwestern natives: cardinal flower (Lobelia cardinalis), obedient plant (Physostegia virginiana), swamp milkweed (Asclepias incarnata), golden alexander (Zizia aurea), Pennsylvania sedge (Carex pensylvanica, which is NOT a good choice I found), porcupine sedge (C. hystericina) and owl-fruit sedge (C. stipata).

Many of the plants are still in the "creep" stage of the classic "sleep, creep, leap" development cycle of perennials. But some are already exploding from the combination of lots of water and sun.


The zizias have reached about 2' tall if not more, which is pretty much as tall as these plants usually get. Clearly they love being in the rain garden.


But you'll notice one half of the garden is very robust while in the other half the plants are still rather small. Why? The difference in sun exposure in just this small 6-foot stretch of garden is significant. The plants near the southern edge get a couple more hours of light per day than those at the northern end. It surprises me that such variation takes place in only 6' of space!

A number of sedges (genus Carex) are perfect for rain gardens because they love moisture but will tolerate dry spells once established. Carex is an enormous genus, so you can find sedges that like sun and moisture or sun and dryness, shade and moisture or even dry shade. In this regard they're more versatile than grasses and can handle the variable conditions in a rain garden that is periodically flooded.

This garden is my first experience growing various sedges, and I really encourage you to add some if you are growing a rain garden or need a grassy plant in a challenging site (see above paragraph about their diversity). While I was researching an article on sedges a while back, Dr. Andrew Hipp, plant systematist at the Morton Arboretum and author of Field Guide to Wisconsin Sedges told me that sedges reward close examination, and he was absolutely right!

Look at the inflorescence of this porcupine sedge (C. hystericina) and click to enlarge:

It looks a little prickly but also kind of dainty...a little like a bottle brush, which is its other common name.

Compare that to the owl-fruit sedge (C. stipata):

Its inflorescences look like spiky burs that would be painful to touch (they're not). Close inspection reveals remarkable variations between these cousins in the genus Carex.

I mentioned earlier that Pennsylvania sedges were not a good choice for the rain garden. I think it's too moist for them. Of the four I planted, three survived and the two doing the best are on the berm and hence stay drier than those in the trough. Bless these plants for liking dry shade! If you grow them, site them somewhere other than the rain garden.


My other piece of advice would be to keep the berm of your rain garden at a very gentle slope. Mine is too steep and I have mulch erode off the sides and pile up on the plants below during rainstorms. I just clean them off once the water has been absorbed, but it's a nuisance that could have been avoided. (See the right side of the photo below for the erosion issue.)


Overall, growing a rain garden has been a rewarding experience, both from an environmental standpoint and an aesthetic one. Every time I see the garden brimming with water I'm pleased because that's water that is not ending up in a storm sewer or joining an erosive flood in a nearby river, and it's on its way to recharging our underground aquifers (which I then use too extensively for all the laundry and dishes around this place, so it's the least I could do!). On top of that, I've watched the zizias and sedges burst into vigorous growth, and the later bloomers (obedient plant, lobelias, etc.) are all growing and thriving.

It took some hard labor and careful plant choices, but this rain garden was well worth the effort, and I must add it's required barely any work since its early days. Happy birthday, rain garden!

Monday, October 5, 2009

Win some, lose some

Well, I finally got around to tackling some of that to-do list I was talking about last week. I won't re-hash everything here, but I did make some notable discoveries once I finally got back in the garden.


First, I have a golden alexander blooming about five months late! This is Zizia aurea, which normally blooms in May and June, and here it is blossoming when the first frost is lurking only days away.


This plant is obviously very confused, but I won't hold it against the plant since it's a newbie this year. I'm happy that it's so comfortable as to bloom at all in its first year! Hopefully the onset of winter won't do any lasting damage to this bewildered little member of my rain garden.

Just in case I needed another reminder that I am not actually the one in control around here, my Baby Joe-Pye seedling was mercilessly eaten by some critter.

(The scene of the crime.)

After all my coddling and fussing and worrying, this plant, which I nearly nurtured through its critical first year, is now part of the fat reserves of some squirrel or chipmunk preparing for the winter. To be honest, I'm not even that upset; I feel like this is plant karma for all of my fretting over one little seedling. Needless to say, I'm not collecting seeds from my mature Joe-Pye weed (Eupatorium maculatum) this year. Maybe the poor germination rate was because the seeds weren't viable when I gathered them. Maybe it's not them, it's me. Either way, I need to take a break from growing these seedlings.


Apparently that same critter (or some of his accomplices) has been eating my columbine (Aquilegia canadensis) seedlings as well. Now this aggravated me when I found them. These seedlings have been growing beautifully all year, and I am confident that some might actually flower next spring (this is not counting the ones that shriveled upon being planted in too much sun).


So I was outraged by this destruction, until I realized that the critters might have helped me in the long run. I was too wimpy to thin these columbine seedlings or even divide them before planting them in the garden. Eventually, they would have struggled because of root competition and I would have had a chore waiting for me next year or the one after that. The seedling-eaters, however, performed a little natural selection and now I can focus on protecting the survivors and not having to divide an overgrown clump of columbine roots!

So the local rodents devour my seedlings yet don't touch my lettuces; what to make of that? The mysteries of nature, I suppose!

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