Category: Outdoors

How to start wildflowers from seed

I recently visited the Nasami Farm in Whately, Mass. This is the plant production facility for the Native Plants Trust, formerly the New England Wildflower Society. I met with Alexis Doshas, their nursery manager. The 75–acre farm produces perennials, grasses and some woody plants — mainly from seed. The plants are sold at their headquarters in Framingham, Mass., and at the Nasami Farm on weekends.

If you’re interested in growing wildflowers, the least expensive way to get plenty is to start them from seed. This takes some effort, but it accomplishes a number of things: if you collect seed from the wild, you’re getting plants in your garden without diminishing the wild population — the way you would if you dug plants (which is prohibited anyway in most places).

Starting plants from seed also encourages genetic diversity. Many purchased plants are propagated from cuttings or by division, which means they’re all clones with the exact same genes. Seeds from any given plant produce seedlings with a wide range of characteristics, making some less susceptible to environmental challenges such as global warming.

Starting wildflowers from seed can take patience. While some seeds will germinate and grow the same summer you collect them (campanulas, for example), other things like lilies might take four or five years to bloom. Many require a cold period of three months, which is called cold stratification. Some planted now will grow underground next spring, but not send up any green growth until the following spring.

The Nasami Farm grows seedlings in big plastic hoop houses. These aren’t heated except in spring, or if temperatures go below zero in winter. The greenhouses allow the seedlings to be monitored and tended easily on long tables. You could set up a table in your barn, shed or garage for a few flats of seedlings. Some wildflowers do fine in flats with good drainage in the outdoors — preferably in a shady place that won’t see too much of the hot, drying sun.

Lastly, you can plant seeds directly in the ground in a site where they’ll thrive as mature plants. The disadvantage to this is you never know what percentage of seeds will germinate. If you plant 100 seeds in a flat indoors it’ll be easier to thin or transplant the seedlings than if you must do so on your hands and knees. And there shouldn’t be weed competition if you’re using a germination mix in a flat. On the other hand, I plant things like goldenseal directly in the ground as it takes two years to sprout, and I don’t want to have to water and tend them so long.

Alexis Doshas gave me some tips for starting wildflowers from seed. First, she said, collect seed when it’s easy to pull off the plant, and remove any fluffy stuff attached to it. Generally seeds start light colored, and darken when fully ripe. If you want to store seed, make sure it doesn’t dry out. Store in a cool, dark place.

Buy a very fine seed germination mix, something made of finely ground peat and perlite. A coarse mix can let seeds wash down deeper than they should be. For small seeds (the size of a grain of sand or less) just sow seeds, pat them into the soil mix and water them in. No need to cover them. Alexis suggests germinating seeds at 60 to 80 degrees, but cautioned that many wildflowers need a 90-day cold period before they’ll grow.

Alexis said you may need to provide rodent protection: metal hardware cloth over the flats to keep mice from eating the seeds. Rodents can be a problem as easily in your cold basement as in a barn or outdoors.

I asked Alexis to recommend some plants that are easy to start from seed right now. She suggested blueberries, huckleberries and plums for fruits. Of the flowers, she listed these: milkweed, mountain mint, black-eyed susans, wild bee balm, wild iris, asters, Joe Pye weed and all the goldenrods, which are great for pollinators.

Woodland wildflowers, she said, often have very specific needs and aren’t as easy to grow as the field flowers mentioned above. Soil pH and type are important. When I plant spring wildflowers I try to mimic the forest type of their native habitat: if they grow in a maple-beech-ash forest in the wild, I try to plant them in a similar environment.

Plants with large, fleshy fruits such as jack-in-the pulpit or goldenseal probably will require you to remove the fruit portion before planting. Gloves are suggested, as some have strong chemicals that may irritate your skin. You can soak seeds like that to allow fermentation to remove the skin and flesh.

A good reference text for starting wildflower seeds is by William Cullina, Growing and Propagating Wildflowers of the United States and Canada. Unfortunately, it’s out of print, though I’ve heard it’s in the process of being reprinted. It’s worth its weight in gold as it gives specifics for hundreds of wildflowers.

Featured photo: Goldenseal fruits are ready for picking in my woods right now. Courtesy photo.

Delightful surprises at public garden

I recently visited Bedrock Garden in Lee and came away feeling refreshed and enlightened. This 37-acre public garden was created on the premises of a 1700s farm that was purchased in 1980 by artist and garden designer Jill Nooney and her husband, Bob Munger.

Jill Nooney is a talented designer, who has won many awards at the Boston Flower Show. She is a welder who uses her skills to create metal sculptures from small to mammoth, as well as working with other media. Bob is a natural builder and fix-it guy who has enabled Jill to install her art in the landscape, along with water features, walls, paths and much more. They are a couple who really bring out the best in each other.

When I toured the gardens I was lucky to have Jill as one of my guides. Also touring the gardens with me was John Forti, Executive Director and Horticulturist of the nonprofit that manages the gardens. We spent nearly three hours together looking at the gardens and I learned about many plants I had never seen before.

Bedrock Garden is full of surprises that delight, enlighten and inspire visitors. I came away wishing I had a bigger garden space for my own efforts, and with an appreciation for how much Jill and Bob have packed into their gardens.

For years Bedrock Garden was open a few weekends each summer, but five years ago Jill and Bob decided that since they were approaching what some call “retirement age” they needed to look seriously at the future of the gardens. They created a nonprofit, hired John Forti as the director, and figured out how to separate the public and private spaces.

During the pandemic they created a parking lot and visitors center that are accessed away from their home, the old farm house they have lived in for over 40 years. They have created a space that is family-friendly that delights children as much as their parents.

Near the parking lot is a gnome house kids can enter made from a huge hollow sycamore log that Jill capped with a steel roof reminiscent of a mushroom cap. She saw the wonderful hollow log alongside the road and hit her brakes immediately to ask for it. Luckily, she was the first to ask, and got it. (Five others stopped and asked for it that day, she told me, but she was the first).

I consider myself well-exposed to the palette of plants available to gardeners in New Hampshire. Bedrock Garden is in Zone 5b, meaning that most years it does not get colder than minus 25 degrees. But Jill has installed and grown many plants that I have never seen before, including many woody plants normally found in Japan or China.

Jill Nooney has used plants in ways that surprised me. For example, she used Bulls Blood heritage beets in a flower bed for their deep purple leaves. An annual effort, but very striking. When a hollow tree was cut down, she had Bob cut it in two-foot sections and stack the sections between two trees so viewers walking by could see through it like binoculars. One can see where branches had been swallowed by its growth. They call it “Log Jam.”

Jill has used decorative grasses well throughout the garden. Fountain grass is a genus of grass that gets to be more than 6 feet tall and very bushy in full sun, where she grows it in an “allee” arrangement that is gorgeous. But she also uses it in shade. “It’s wispy in the shade,” she said. “I like that.”

Metal sculpture is a key element throughout the garden. Early in our tour I admired a space made by forming ¾-inch steel rebar into a series of 11 arches 13 feet tall and spaced 7 feet apart. “I’m using the sky,” she said. She consciously mimicked the lines of a Gothic cathedral, bending each steel frame to a gracefully pointed Gothic arch. And she is growing European fastigiate beeches to clothe the metal frame as part of the installation: one on each side of the archways and tied to the steel. They will eventually reach the sky, the apex of the arch.

Also in the garden are two iron “Chiwaras” modeled after antelope masks made by the Bambara people of Mali. Many years ago I had told Jill the legend of the antelope in Mali, where I had worked with the Peace Corps. The Bambara people credit the antelope for teaching them to plant millet, their primary grain. The antelope pawed the ground, and dropped a little manure into the soil containing seeds. So they honored the antelope with their stylized masks, which Jill captured beautifully.

So plan a visit to Bedrock Garden if you can. There is a guided tour each day, and two on weekend days. Or just wander around and study the design elements. See how Jill has used plants that awe and inspire, and how she has added whimsy and art that delights and amuses. This is a garden worth visiting even if you don’t have a big space or the energy to develop it the way Jill and Bob have. Bring a lunch and plan on spending the day. You’ll be glad you did. And if you have children in your life, think about attending the Fairy Hobbit House Festival Oct. 9 to Oct. 11. Learn more at bedrockgardens.org.

Featured photo: Gardens and sculpture go well together. Courtesy photo.

On becoming a plant collector

I’ve always been a gardener — or at least as far back as I can remember. More recently, say the last 20 years or so, I’ve been a plant collector. What does that mean? If I fall in love with a plant, I want to grow other plants related to it.

One of the most obsessive collectors I ever met was the late Bill Countryman of Northfield, Vermont. When I interviewed him in the late ’90s he told me that his sister sent him a peony, and although he was in his 70s at the time and not a gardener, he planted it. It bloomed magnificently and Bill fell in love with peonies. He decided to grow every type there is.

Bill Countryman bought a chain saw so he could clear his land to plant peonies. He bought a bulldozer to remove the stumps and went to work. When I met him, he had already planted some 300 kinds of peonies, though he continued on, getting more varieties, perhaps as many as 600. He sold them, but mostly he just enjoyed them. He was quite the collector.

I’m not nearly so obsessive. What do I collect? Well, peonies, I suppose. But Cindy and I have only 44 peonies. Primroses. Burnets. Persicarias. Wildflowers. Willows. I have dozens of colors of daylilies, but don’t consider myself a collector of them — they are just nice, reliable plants, but I don’t need one of every kind. Thank goodness for that; there are many hundred.

The burnets are quite a diverse group in the scientific group or genus sanguisorba. First I got the one native to New England, sanguisorba canadensis. It loves wetlands, so I planted it in a weedy, marshy place in part sun/part shade. It thrived, sending flower spikes with bottlebrush flowers 6 feet tall or more. It blooms in late summer or fall, and can still be pretty in late October.

My absolute favorite of these flowers is one called sanguisorba hakusenensis — lilac squirrel. I saw it online and asked all my local garden centers to no avail, so I finally ordered it from Digging Dog Nursery in California. I planted five small plants last year; they wintered over and are blooming now. The flowers are like pink squirrel tails hanging down from 18-inch flower stems. They make me smile, especially with a name like that.

The littlest of the burnets I grow is one called S. officinalis or Little Angel. It makes a tidy clump of diminutive green leaves edged in white. Each leaf is just half an inch long. The deep red catkin-like flowers are on 6-inch stems that lean or fall over. Now, five years since I bought it, the clump is about a foot across and just 3 inches tall.

Little Angel’s bigger cousin in the same genus is one called Tanna. This is called a miniature, but that is only relative to some of the bigger ones that get 4 to 6 feet tall. It has very tidy 18-inch leaf stems, each with 13 to 17 leaflets in dark green. It makes a tidy mound and has the same dark-red smallish flowers.

Of the large ones that are garden-worthy, I have two: probably S. obtusa and S. tenuifolia. The literature, even online, is sketchy about identifying these plants and I lost the plant tags long ago. The first, which has reddish-pink tidy small catkin-like flowers, needs to be tied up early in July. If not tied up, the flower stems, which get to be over 4 feet long and have 20 or so blossoms per stem, flop over. The other is standing tall and proud right now, but the flowers have not yet opened — and I haven’t staked them.

Why do I collect burnets? I just like them. They can be picked for flower arrangements, but I rarely do. I like seeing them in the garden.

Willows, of course, are more of a problem to collect because of their size, but I do grow at least half a dozen. My favorite is the hakuro nishiki. It has variegated foliage early in the summer: green and white, and then with pink mixed in for a few weeks. It is colorful and fast growing. Like all willows, it appreciates moist soils but will grow in ordinary garden soil.

Hakuro nishiki is not a large willow. It seems to top out at about 20 feet in 10 years. I planted three some 20 years ago, 10 feet apart, and they created a dense grove. I was able to prune out branches growing into the center, creating a small room where I placed Adirondack chairs. It makes a cool space near my brook to eat lunch on a hot day.

The rosemary willow is another favorite of mine. It is a small willow, only getting to be about 10 feet tall and wide in 10 years. I love that its leaves look somewhat like leaves of the herb rosemary: narrow and pointy leaves. They are dark green on the top side, gray or silvery on the bottom side. I’ve almost been able to fool people visiting my garden into believing it was really a rosemary plant on steroids but for the lack of smell. Neither the rosemary or hakuro nishiki produce any noticeable flowers.

So I encourage you to look for — and collect — plants related to the ones you love. Not every variety will tickle your fancy, but if you discover a few that do, they will make you happy for years to come.

Featured photo: I have dozens of daylilies, but don’t consider myself a real collector of them. Courtesy photo.