Plant Translation 101

One of my favorite games to play is the game of Plant Translation. It’s a game that’s most effective to play when traveling, and visiting gardens in climates other than my own, but I realize that I’m playing it when I’m reading magazines (garden related, travel, or other), or garden books. It’s simple to play, and you’ve probably already figured out how.

It goes like this: when you see a nice plant combination, especially something you hadn’t thought of, think about translating that combination to your climate. Then think of as many plants as you can that can be utilized to achieve a similar result, substituting one plant for another, or all of the plants for others. Then, when you think you have exhausted all the reasonable possibilities, or when the plant options start to degrade the design, repeat the process using another climate. Of course, I generally translate the scenes I see into plants that would work in Albuquerque. I try to come up with at least three options, but sometimes the options get up to twenty or more. It all depends upon how close the original combination is to the plants that grow well here.

Here’s an example. I’m reading (again) the book Beth Chatto’s Gravel Garden. There’s a beautiful scene where a bold silvery spire of Verbascum bombyciferum, the purple-pink globes of an allium, and the silver and white of a white flowered Helianthemum stand out against a dark green background. Now I realize that these plants can all be grown in Albuquerque (although the green background wouldn’t be Ceanothus as it appears in the photo). It probably wouldn’t need all that much water. They even sell similar Verbascum and Helianthemum at nearby nurseries. But let’s translate this scene to other plants, perhaps looking more like New Mexico, perhaps not.

Realize, first of all, that the impact of the scene comes from several layers. There is the impact of the bright silver and white against the dark background. Then there is the fine texture of the Helianthemum against the large bold leaves of the Verbascum. The Allium is a bit of fireworks, unnecessary in my mind, but a bit of fun. It would only last a week or two anyway, and the rest of the scene would have to hold its own. But the globes contrast nicely with the forms of the other plants, and the color is similarly cool.

Let’s start with the Verbascum, since it the least likely to be seen in Albuquerque gardens. What else has similar boldness and color? You might first think of the genus Yucca, which has bold form, but be careful of the color, which is typically olive rather than silver. The white filaments of Yucca elata might make that plant a good translation, though not as silvery. The agaves might make a better translation, being careful, again, to use the most silvery forms since forms of a single species can vary. Agave havardiana comes to mind, with the possibility of becoming much larger than the Verbascum. Agave parryi is smaller, with several forms available. Agave parrasana’s artichoke form might be even more exciting than the Verbascum. All of the Agave would translate soft touchable fuzziness of the Verbascum into the southwest vernacular of tough and spikey. Is this an effect that you want? How about something softer instead? The large silver leaves of Cardoon would work, and still give the sense of an upright rosette. Like Verbascum, Salvia argentea has bold leaves, essentially disappearing in the winter, and a bold flower stem, but branched instead of linear. The fuzzy leaves provide a similar tactile texture. Departing slightly from the original concept, Panicum ‘Heavy Metal’ would translate the Verbascum from silvery and fuzzy to blue and feathery, but would maintain the sculptural upright stance. Departing even more, consider a silvery large-leafed shrub. Are there any? Phlomis might work. How about Juniperus scopulorum ‘Skyrocket’? Obviously much larger, and finer textured, but with the upright form and silver color.

Next, lets work on the Helianthemum. It would be fine just to use a white form of Helianthemum in the design. Or this could be translated into a more local appearance by using Melampodium leucanthum (Blackfoot daisy) instead. It has a similar low form, and white flowers with yellow centers, although the leaves are more olive than silver. White zinnia (Zinnia acerosa) could also work, or even Candytuft (Iberis sempervirens) although this Mediterranean plant may look out of place in some plant combinations relying on native plants. Something with a similar stature, silver leaves and fine texture to contrast with the boldness of the upright plant could be Artemesia versicolor, which is more drought tolerant than the silvery Artemesia frigida (Fringed sage) which also doesn’t tolerate heat as well, or hold its form as well in late summer. You could also use Tanacetum densum (Partridge feather) for another fine textured low growing silver plant.

Let’s say you wanted to switch the effect, with a finely textured tall plant, and a coarser textured small plant. They you could consider Artemesia filifera (Sand sage) and Stachys lanata (Lamb’s ears). This also would be an attractive combination, where the smaller plant has fuzzy leaves that demand to be touched, playing off the feathery.

The Allium is the least important feature in my mind, because it would be so short-lived. The globe shaped flower heads are not something that is common in the plant world. At least not in this climate (what comes to mind are hydrangeas and tropical Dombeya wallichii - pink ball tree). Options include the versatile Penstemons such as a pink form of Penstemon barbatus, or the hot pink Penstemon pseudospectabilis. Against the stouter forms of Agave, there might be enough contrast. The pink disks of Echinacea or a pink yarrow might substitute as well.

Okay, now that you’ve got the idea, let’s try translating the other-worldly moss tufts of New Zealand, or the underwater gardens of Takashi Amano. Maybe for Advanced Translation. C’mon, it will be fun.