
Red Clematis,
'Niobe', Planted in 2006
Two Favorite June Perennials
Joan
Shaw
At last
I'm able to write about this summer's garden, since I'm once again on
line, with a new ISP, after being lost in cyberspace for two
months. To say this was a first-class hassle is to put it mildly.
But now it's over – I sincerely hope.
I took advantage of the lost time to photograph some plants newly
acquired this spring, and some plants and bulbs
that have been in the ground here for a couple of years which just
started looking like they were holding their own. So I'm set for many
pages to come. The roses were
spectacular, but they're
always spectacular, and I'll write about them in a later page. Right
now, I'd like to talk about two June perennials that I truly appreciate
-- feverfew and clematis.
Feverfew (Tanacetum
parthenium) ~
These plants are what I
love most about June – the billowing
frothiness of feverfew (Tanacetum
parthenium )
appearing in all the beds.
The plant has
a number of common names – featherfew, featherfoil, flirtwort,
bachelor buttons. But feverfew itself is actually a corruption of
febrifuge, which my online Oxford English Dictionary defines
as
a medicinal drink used to drive away fever. The dried leaves were
steeped up until the end
of the 1900s in a tea for the treatment of headache as well.
So
where did all the feverfew on
DragonGoose Farm come from? Well, years ago I sent for a
collection of
flower seeds called "Monet's Garden." In the flat box that I received
through UPS were a number of round
little boxes of seeds, segregated by color, and
arranged to look like an
artist's palette. The collection was said to be among those painted by
Monet in his garden and included feverfew. The plants that resulted not
only
adapted happily to Northern Utah's climate, but spread
throughout the beds here – not without my help in transplanting. It
grows to
about a foot and a half and is
perfect for in front of a border. The stems, full of tiny white
blossoms, make a wonderful and unusual filler for
flower arrangements, too. In fact, I like it better for that
purpose than
baby's breath (Gypsophila), though
I have baby's breath in the garden, too.
Feverfew is co
vered
with many daisy-like flowers of yellow centers
surrounded by thick fans of white petals. From a distance it
gives an
airy, cloud-like effect around the straighter and taller spears
of
iris, roses, fox glove, and lilies. Both plant
and flowers have a
bitter, chrysanthemum-type fragrance, and have a
lovely mounding habit. (See photo above right.)
The
plant is said to repel garden pests, and though feverfew does repel
bees as
well, it doesn't seem to keep them away from surrounding flowers.
A massing of them in front of a planting of hollyhock mallow (Malva alcea) and the taller
hollyhock (Alcea) is a
pleasant sight spilling over a brick walk. A closeup of these tiny
flowers is shown at left.
Clematis ~
Along the south orchard
fence, I had at one time three fifteen-year-old clematis plants that
climbed to the top of the orchard fence and were a spectacular sight in
June. But to the horror of both our
landscape manager and ourselves, the weeding crew grubbed out two of
them thinking they were a tangle of bittersweet nightshade (Solanum
dulcamara) and
field bindweed (Convolvulus arvensis).
The first clematis was irreparably gone,the second one was spared, and
there was a ragged stem of
the third one left. This stem I covered with a protective sleeve and
offered up a little prayer for its survival. The first one I replaced
two
years ago with the red 'Niobe' clematis shown at the top of this page.
It's grown well, already up four to five feet on the fence by late
June, so
I have
high hopes of its topping out at the eight-foot level of the old
Clematis (whose name has been lost in the mists of time). The ragged
stem that I protected and prayed over managed to put out several new
stems, a couple of which have themselves reached the top of the fence.
We've removed two good-sized cedars just this week both to give the
clematis more light and air and to guard against a problem with cedar
apple rust on some of our apples.
The
old clematis can be seen in the photo to the right. A piece of the new
growth of
clematis can be seen far right in the photograph. The two cedars are,
by this time, gone.
We have other varieties of clematis, newly planted in the last few
years. They
haven't bloomed much yet or at all in some cases. They haven't had much
of a chance. As I mentioned in an earlier page, they
kept being pulled up as weeds before they could defend themselves with
a couple of blossoms to show they were actually valuable flowers.
I planted a 'Gravety
Beauty' a couple of years ago in the prostrate cotoneaster in front of
the house, thinking to have it scramble over that low shrub which
spreads longways for about fifteen feet, but it
finally succumbed to repeated grubbing-out by the weeders. The next one
(C. 'purpura elegans') I
planted as a climber rather than a scrambler, and protected it with a
black-wire trunk protector. I noticed just now by its spent blooms that
it had put out more than a dozen flowers, hidden among the prolific
Austin
climbing
rose, 'Constance Spry'.
As far as clematis cultivation is concerned, water application to the
roots is the most important. The entire plant can take full sun as long
as its roots are kept moist. The large-flowered, early blooming
type (the 15-year-old shown above right) flowers on growth made the
previous year, so
it
needs no pruning, or pruning only to keep the plant from becoming
rampant. The late-blooming types, on the other hand, should be pruned
severely in early spring to encourage new growth. There is one disease
mentioned – wilt – which I have never seen on the clematis on
DragonGoose Farm. The cause is said to be acid soil and the soil in
northern Utah is alkaline.
Besides the fifteen year old plants on the orchard
fence, there is another I planted with a 'Leontyne Gervais'
rambling rose. This clematis has stayed vigorous and healthy for over
ten years (photo
below left).

This is a pink variety for which, alas, I also have no name. It might
well be the late-blooming, prune-in-the-spring variety, because the
stems are a disaster after enduring a winter and need to be cut back
along with the
winter-killed rose canes. The plant comes through reliably, however,
with masses of blooms and, indeed, blooms later than the old ones on
the orchard fence.
Clematis as a flowering vine has been known since the time of the
Greeks and was a wide-spread native vine in England (Clematis vitalba). North
America has its own natives, C. crispa, with
nodding flowers and a light scent, originating in the southeastern
United States, and C.
viorna, a freeflowering type with what is
described as lovely, fluffy seedheads. All these species along with
others have been used in breeding, including the European
introduction during the reign of Elizabeth I, in 1569, C. viticella. This
plant puts out
blooms with a light scent derived from one of its parents, North America's own C. crispa.
All this ancient breeding history aside, intensive work on clematis
didn't take off until the 19th century during which species and
cultivars were introduced from all over the world, the more spectacular
and large-flowered ones coming from Japan and China. One of the
more famous and familiar to us here in the United States as well as in
the UK is the dark
violet-purple clematis, C.
'jackmanii'. It was bred by
George Jackman and Sons and shown in 1863 in Kensington Gardens,
England. It
came in for
much acclaim, receiving a Certificate of Merit in the First
Class. This clematis, though followed by many other violet-purple
varieties, has continued popular to this day and is still offered at
nurseries and in catalogs.
A good-sized C. 'jackmanii' grows on the porch of an old house near
here. I've watched it year after year as it emerges from the ground to
over six feet on its porch post. This
plant is a large flowered late bloomer that blooms on new growth from
early summer on, and would be (and indeed is) pruned back severely each
spring.
Since the nineteenth century, breeding of clematis with more and more
outstanding introductions has increased exponentially. A visit to any
nursery will find numberless varieties, depending on the size of the
nursery, and plants can be found in almost all catalogs of garden
plants.

Joan Katherine Shaw
July 2008
Photos
by Joan K Shaw
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