Going Native: Butterfly Weed

While I intend to spill into a lengthy diatribe later regarding how amazing native plants are, for now I would like to mention one in particular, our lovely little orange wonder, the Butterfly Weed (a.k.a. Asclepias Tuberosa).

I honestly forget where this is from, and might even be home grown from local seeds.  Those cacti you see at the bottom, by the way, are indeed "perennial"!  We will see them later on.

It's pretty damn easy to grow, and here in Michigan we can usually neglect it and it thrives.  It can make its way through most drought, owing to a large taproot (which means it does not do so carefree in confined situations like pots or urban dirt that has a concrete bottom).  It does fine in rock gardens, sandy patches, and seems to be fine in my thick, unyielding clay.  For those gardeners who have trouble finding a strain that their clay can make friends with, Prairie Nursery out of Wisconsin does offer a clay-loving variety.  I've personally never had a problem with it, though I also tend to be very intense when it comes to establishing perennials.  A bit of water goes a long way to getting that long taproot where it needs to go.

Soil issues tend to not be much of a problem for this species compared to just being able to find it.  In some years it gets touted as the be all and end all of "attract monarchs to your garden" sales pitches at nurseries.  In most years, however, I find people asking even at native plant sources where they can find some of this amazing plant.  The most consistent source for stock that I have yet found is George's Livonia Gardens, which offers a very basic native plant selection, but is a great place to get the bare bones of a wildflower garden going.  That said, they are also fairly easy to grow from seed and can be found along roadsides and meadows/fields/prairies.  They form very distinctive pods which are architecturally pleasing and carry the plant through the winter as a design element.  Leave the pods to ripen in the garden, where they will do the work for you, usually giving out a nice healthy plant the following spring.  Failing that, you can find their seeds even at most hardware stores, but for a fine native such as this, nothing beats our local type population (more on this in another post).

The picture above really does not do the plant justice.  The orange has an intensity that is in my opinion unmatched in the plant world.  Only the California Poppy (a.k.a. Eschscholzia Californica) comes even close to the brilliant, almost neon orange that this wonder puts out.  Gardeners have long since bred it into various other colors, but the original orange remains the most brilliant, awe-inspiring flavor.  Back when Michigan had more in the way of natural prairies, it probably stole the show even among other wildflowers.  Such has certainly been the case in every prairie and savanna patch I have ever been to where it has been present even in small numbers.  In the garden, it can compete with even the flashiest annuals.

Even way in the back there, it still has a commanding presence and is the brightest thing next to the orange marigolds up front.  That little patch, by the way, has quite the plant diversity and history, and is something I will re-visit frequently for individual plant coverage and design concepts.  Speaking of which, Butterfly Weed is obviously a very painless choice for integrating natives into an overall design.  Unlike most other milkweeds, it has a very clean appearance and does not usually get derided by the ordinary, non-gardening folks as "weedy".  In contrast, those tall common milkweed stalks were responsible for this patch getting repeatedly mowed until I dressed it up some more.  That's a real shame, as both plants offer very different structural contributions to the broader garden landscape.  Alas, Butterfly Weed tends to look more like a typical garden plant, and tends to be a happy find while weeding, at least if the weeder has ever seen one in bloom.  Half the time I find them growing freely in the lawn and am very reluctant to send them away; for what its worth, they do tend to transplant easily at such a young age.  Keep that soil ball around the roots intact and well-watered in its new home and you can transplant fields of them. 

Equally at home in rough or formal settings, Butterfly Weed works well with many plants, notably other wildflowers.  I am particularly fond of using them in contrast with white/silver foliage plants such as the various sagebrushes of the Artemisia genus, and they also look nice with other shrub-sized plants such as roses.  Alternatively, group them with low-growing annuals for some vertical contrast.  In South East Michigan, Butterfly Weed tends to give an opening bloom around Mid-June (these pictures were taken today, June 18th) and even without deadheading (pinching off the faded blooms) tend to give another bloom later in July and early August.  They like it hot, and tend to finish blooming before the fall, but I have seen the rare late August show as well.  The blooms tend to last the better part of a week, sometimes as long as two.  Don't pinch off the second bloom, as the pods will develop, and they look amazing!  Give it a go, you will not be disappointed. 

In Defense Of Annuals

Note for the novice:  Annuals are those flowers that you have to plant each year.  Perennials are those which come back on their own.

Annuals.  Those lovely things that often tend to flower profusely throughout the growing season.  They come in amazing colors, are bred to flower like crazy, and have such huge curb appeal that many hardware and home decor stores now carry plastic versions of the popular varieties for the less than green thumbed.  In early spring our local nurseries bring out their first vibrant annual displays of pansies, and in a steady, choreographed march we get petunias, zonal geraniums, snapdragons, etc. until fall when we get mums and less-than-perennial designer asters.  In comparison, the perennials on display are often between stages of floral display, but people seem to fly on past the flats of color and toward the 8 dollar coneflower pots.  In some ways, this is a great thing, but in other ways the preference towards perennials is marked more by confusion than by common sense.

Consider the following lines:

The beginner/casual gardener:  

"Annuals?  Why would I want to waste money on things that won't grow back?"

"I want the plants that come back every year, you know, the ones where you don't have to do anything to them once you plant them."

The experienced gardener:

"Annuals are so common and boring."

"I'm after perennials rather than annuals because they will keep improving and expanding every year.  I want this garden to look old and well-developed.  I don't want to stare at mulch all day."

The hippy:

"Hey man, what about the pollinators?  Grow native and let the bees thrive!"

We've all been there, each one of us finding some comfortable place in the statements above.  Money and the environment tend to drive our gardening direction, and annuals always seem to be a luxury best reserved for the truly obsessed plant people.  After all, those highly bred petunias won't be back next year, nor will they provide the best, if any, food for the bees and butterflies.  They also tend to be everywhere...

But then again, so do a lot of perennials.  Many houses have foundation plantings of hostas, hydrangeas, black-eyed susans, (don't get me started on pachysandra), etc.  If they don't, odds are that the home gardener is a bit insane, and like your author, is so plant mad that the place is a buffet of almost gross looking variety.  Additionally, they might also be into the natives, which might mean that there are periods where nothing is in flower, or, worse, is "let wild" and looks unkempt. 

So?  Who cares what people think?!  I enjoy my garden and keep it the way that I want to.  Society is overrated.  Screw the neighbors!

The 80% of you that are still reading are doing so because you are clearly shameful sycophants to societal whims.  OR, you actually care not only about your landscaping, but about its place in the larger local landscape.  Gardening, even for the socially unconcerned, has elements of community attached to it, however small.  When we work in our gardens and try to make them more than just a mowed lawn with a few shrubs attached, we are partially doing so because we want to make our little corner of the world more appealing.  Hell, aside from the law forcing us to, most of us mow our lawns for that very reason.  We also tend to weed for the same results, and sometimes, we even show up with a flat of snapdragons.  Then something funny happens: the neighbors do it too.  Then you both start bumping into each other at nurseries and stealing seed catalogs from your respective mailboxes, all because a little color drove you the good kind of crazy. 

Annuals, you see, are great little accent pieces that can keep the flowers going in between our other proud blossoms.  If nothing else, they can also help distract the eye from a messy bed, spent perennials, etc.  As noted, you can start in chilly spring with the pansies and end when you thought your nursery visits were over in the fall by planting mums.  They are window dressing...

 they spread cheer and color...

and they provide slow season support to our local mom-and-pop nurseries; that pansy flat you buy in the first week of April may be the most encouraging thing to happen to the manic owner concerned with both the bills and the preparations driving them up the wall. 

Note: Orange pansies were purchased at Mike's Garden (South Lyon), blue and golds at George's Livonia Gardens (Livonia).

They also give you something to do in the garden, with near instant results, at otherwise less than visually impacting working times.  On the extreme end, you might find that you actually like using them, and may just turn into a crazy Victorian with carpet beds of the colorful little things.  Annuals are powerful like that!  (Note: Don't be afraid to try this, even while I encourage diversification and definitely going native).