performance plants

I've been watching my sulfur buckwheat changing color from chrome yellow flowers to red-highlighted calyces, and it reminded me of a book I have titled Performance Plants (Andrew Lawson, Penguin Books, 1992). I've no idea where I bought it or when, though it must have been at least 10 years ago, and I remember being entranced by the ideas, plants and combinations. The premise of the book is that when space is limited, you must have plants that have more than one season of interest. To earn their place in the garden (and book), plants must be able to hold their own throughout the year, or for at least a large portion of the year. This doesn't necessarily mean that plants are static throughout the year, though there is some use for those plants as well. Most exciting are those plants that put forth a show that changes by season, without or with minimal off-season. Plants may have a particularly long bloom season, they may fade gracefully, holding form and color even after their peak. Plants may change, dropping flowers neatly after bloom, but have attractive foliage that changes colors in the fall.

Many of the suggestions grow perfectly fine here, such as apple trees, purple smoke bush, cotoneaster, rosemary, euphorbia, sage. Many other plants suggested, however, are not necessarily appropriate for Albuquerque, the photos showing houses that look distinctly English. Of course, there aren't New Mexico native plants in the choices. This is not to say that this is a failing of the book, as the concept is more important, and the plants are certainly likely to be appropriate for the location in which the author lives.

Eriogonum umbellatum is truly a performance plant. Not only is the floral performance long, but the flowers fade from chrome yellow to red/yellow, and even the faded brown flowers remain attractive for some time. The leaves are evergreen and turn a terrific burgundy red in the winter. Overall, the plant is neat and tidy.

So this had me thinking: what other New Mexico native plants are performance plants? I realized that there are a large number of plants. The most common theme, given the climate, is winter form. So here's my off-the-cuff list, I’m sure I’m missing some, so feel free to contribute.

Agave spp.
Antennaria parvifolia (pussytoes)
Artemesia tridentata (big sage)
Cercocarpus spp. (Mountain mahogany)
Ephedra spp.
Forestiera neomexicana (New Mexico olive) - deciduous, but great bark and form.
Junipers (J. scopulorum cultivars, J. monosperma)
Mahonia spp. (M. repens, M. haematocarpa)
Muhlenbergia rigens
Nolina texana, Nolina microcarpa
Opuntia spp.
Penstemon clutei
Penstemon pseudospectabilis
Pinus spp. (P. edulis)
Prunus bessyi
Quercus spp. (native oaks)
Sporobolus airoides
Yucca sp.

prickly thrift

I bought three plants of Acantholimon hohenackeri (say that five times fast) about five years ago, in 2-1/4" pots and a single tuft of leaves. The High Country Gardens catalog described it as rabbit-proof as the leaves are spiny and will give you a jab if you try to pet the cute foliage. It also described the plant as very drought tolerant. Perfect, I thought. I didn't think they were that spiny as I planted them. Neither did the rabbits, as two of them were mowed to the ground the first week.

This one survived, and for the first three years did nothing but grow a little larger. The next year it was about two inches across, the next year three. What is surprising, though, is not that it didn't bloom, but that it survived on not much more than rainfall alone. Still, I was a bit disappointed at the lack of bloom. The leaves did get spinier.

Last year it bloomed for the first time, and this year it has bloomed again. Although it certainly is not a profuse bloomer, it is a charmer. Here it is, just starting to bloom. Cleaning the fallen tree leaves off of the plant left me with a few sore spots in my fingers. I had to resort to using a hemostat to tidy the plant up for the photo. The plant is now 10 inches across, and the rabbits leave it alone. It has become a treasure.

penstemon palmeri

Penstemon palmeri is blooming all around my neighborhood, and I'm fascinated by the variation. Color ranges from almost white, to pale purple and even tints of blue. Bee lines range from faint to psychedelic streaks. In my yard, the plants are 6 feet tall. In the neighborhood, they range from 2-5 feet.

The flowers were pretty beat up by the intense wind and hail that ravaged my neighborhood yesterday. The beards became matted (in P. palmeri you can easily see why the penstemon are called beardtongues), and the petals bruised, but they still look pretty cool. In photographing them, I discovered just how fragrant this species is (rare in penstemons). It was almost overwhelmingly powerful (gave me a sinus headache). It's hard to appreciate outdoors.

This is a more typical form and color:


This one makes me think of a carnivorous ghoul, with blood dripping down the mouth. It even has eyes, and a face.
The delicate blue tinting the lip of this one is very unusual.
This one is almost white.
The flattened flowers and dark pink make this one unusual.
These pale pink forms are also pretty common, but the densely packed flowers are not.

another spuria

I have long since lost the name of this spuria iris. But I'm kicking myself now for losing it. Name or not, it is still beautiful. A rose by any other name...

cistus 'ann baker'

It's about time I showed the entire plant, and not just a single flower of this shrub. Cistus 'Ann Baker' is blooming impressively. That's Allium christophii blooming through and behind it.

blooming now

Blackfoot daisy (Melampodium leucanthum) is always a delight, with its fresh white daisies.


Sulfur buckwheat (Eriogonum umbellatum) has developed some red tints as the flowers fade and the calyces remain. I had a desire to do a portrait.

family portrait

Today, I was looking at the various Penstemon linarioides in my yard, and realized that it would be easier to see the differences if I could see them all together. I decided to do it as a studio family portrait. P. linarioides is known to be a variable species, both in flower color and in plant form. In my yard, the various plants that I have do have variation in leaf size and color, plant height, flower color, flower size, angle of flower, number and prominence of bee lines. The plants are all slight variations of moundy creeping though. From the books, there seems to be even greater variation that I see in my yard.

I actually did the white background (below) first, as a variation on a botanical pressing, but quickly realized that when placed upon paper, the flowers could only be seen from the side. The wonderful bee-lines, color of the face, and details couldn't be seen. What you don't realize from the photo is that the plants are decumbent (lying flat on the ground at the base, then rising a bit toward the tip), and the flowers are outward facing. This makes the flower at an awkward angle for photographing.

In the top photo, the stems are all placed in floral foam so that the stems are leaning into the camera at a 30-45 degree angle. I also decided to use a black background instead of white. I like both results. You can see the variation in size and color of the flowers. It seems that in the black background, the photos came out slightly more blue than reality, except for the single blue flower at the bottom left in the photo above (and second from the right in the photo below). That flower really is that blue. The colors seem more accurate with the white background. It could also be perception: the black background in the photo alters how the flowers are seen compared to real life where there are a number of competing colors surrounding the plants. It could also be the balanced light of the flash, whereas I look at the flowers with ambient light.

I must say that it was difficult cutting the stems for the portraits. Poor things.

dr. huey revisited

The weather is good for an outdoor shot. In most years, Dr. Huey covers himself with blooms. Too bad about later in the year, when he covers himself with mildew. Blooming lasts about two to three weeks unless the flowers are fried by the sun (a common situation here in Albuquerque).

echinocereus reichenbachii var. baileyii

The flowers of Bailey's Lace cactus last only one day (or sometimes two), and open only when the sun is out. Fortunately it blooms a few times during the summer. This is another plant whose first flowers I missed while I was at work: when I saw it in the morning, the flowers looked ready to pop, but when I got home they were shriveled. You can see the faded flower behind/under this one. Fortunately, I caught it today. Slowly look from side to side at the yellow part and the flower seems to pulsate in the peripheral vision.

Queen of Sheba, with Tiny Rubies.

Dianthus 'Queen of Sheba' (above) was battered by the last two days of wind storm. There are a lot of down branchlets, and shredded leaves around the garden. Things seemed to calm down during the night last evening. 'QOS' showed a bit of damage, with stems flopping over to the side, but otherwise looking pretty royal. It is interesting that as the flowering has progressed, the flowers are showing more and more red, until the latest flowers to open hardly have any white on them at all.

Dianthus 'Tiny Rubies' has come into its own (below) with a scattering of miniature flowers, which though not prolific, are charming. Its size helped it tolerate the beating from the winds with aplomb. I bet it would look great as a mass planting, such as a big swath or a thick band of them bordering a patio.

yucca glauca

Yucca glauca is the most common native yucca in my area of town, growing naturally in the grassland areas. Other yuccas, Yucca thompsoniana, Yucca rostrata, Yucca baccata and Yucca elata, are planted commonly, but of these, Yucca baccata (the banana yucca) is the only one that is locally native, growing naturally on the hillsides. They bloom at various times, each species on its own time schedule. I'm fascinated that they are pollinated by a moth whose larvae eat the developing seeds (and leaving many more to grow).

dr. huey

Dr. Huey is a far from exemplary rose. In fact the only reason I have it in my garden is that I can't get rid of it.


It grows back from any bit of root. It is used as an understock for other roses in my part of the country, and it apparently was the understock for the miserable hybrid tea roses that somebody planted in my yard some years ago. I've tried to get rid of it at least three times, and where once was one plant, there are now three. I've given up. I've grown to like it, (or at least tolerate it) even though it is not fragrant, blooms only once a year and is particularly susceptible to mildew.

eriogonum umbellatum

Still in its chrome yellow phase. This is not the phase that I like the most (it is yellow, after all), but I like the pompom flowers. I'm more fond of its winter color or the fading flowers.

spuria 2

Yes, I do like the spuria irises. Even if they do have a lot of yellow forms. And you know how I feel about yellow.

penstemon linarioides

One of my favorite blues is Penstemon linarioides, only this year it isn't so much blue as lavender (compare to banner photo). This is actually one of the most colorful of the lot this year, most of the others being a very pale, washed-out color. It is still one of the cutest penstemon I know of. Just to show some of the variation that P.lin can exhibit, here's what's blooming in my garden now:

Most of the plants look like this, in the pale, washed out color:

This is a plant that I'm trialling in my lightly irrigated courtyard. It has a bit more color, and larger flowers. Since it is a cutting of the above plant, it shows a bit how culture and climate affect flower color.
This is a seedling of a plant I bought from Agua Fria Nursery in Santa Fe. I believe it is from seed collected in Colorado. It is more of a vibrant purple and red-purple than lavender. In the garden, it appears a bit darker.


This is a seedling blooming for the first time in the 3/8" gravel mulch. It has flowers such a vibrant blue that I wonder where it came from. It doesn't look at all like the other seedlings growing less than two feet away. I wonder if it is part of the natural variation, or if it is a hybrid between the various forms of P.lin that I own, or if it is cultural, or even if it is a hybrid with P. heterophyllus (not likely, since the leaves are exactly like the other P.lin's). Still, it has promise to be the best P. linaroides that I've seen.

ann baker

Cistus 'Ann Baker' began blooming a couple of days ago, but I missed the first day entirely. It's not that I wasn't expecting it to bloom, it's just that this Cistus blooms from about 8:30 in the morning to about 4:30 in the evening and I had to go to work. I saw the buds poking out in promise that day when I left for work, and when I got home, the first thing I did when I got home was to check on it. As you can imagine, all that greeted me was the fallen petals. Fortunately, I was able to catch the 3-inch blooms yesterday. I'm lovin' it.

meow

Nepeta 'Walker's Low' is one of my favorite catmints. It is named after a location, not its form, and gets to about 2 feet tall in my garden. As you can imagine, I love the lavender-blue color, and the flowers come for a long time - new ones come out as some fade (as you can see below). My favorite part is the detail of the individual flowers, the spots and speckles. Thus the close image, despite the faded blooms.

scoot

My rock-climber partner calls the pika the "cutest animal in the world." It is cute. It is round. It has a charming face. It is small. Scutellaria resinosa is like the pika of the plant world. I'm not sure if it is the "cutest plant in the world," but it is awfully charming. It stands about six inches tall, has a perfect domelike form, rabbits don't touch it, and the flowers are like violet (almost as good as blue) snapdragons. Coming from the great plains, this plant needs little if any summer water and still blooms until fall.

allium christophii

I love this onion, with its metallic lavender flowers. Although many people leave the dried flower heads in their garden as an ornament for the rest of the season, I think that in my garden it looks like somebody left bits of tumbleweed around. Dried, the silvery nature fades. Right now, the flowers are almost other-worldly.

more dianthus

There is at least one bloom open on each of my dianthus plants. These are the ones that hadn't opened at my last posting on dianthus. 'Tiny Rubies' (above) has opened a few more flowers, but they certainly aren't ruby-colored, and there aren't very many. I hope next year there will be more.


This noid dianthus died back to the ground this winter, but came back surprisingly strongly. Although I bought it as 'Firewitch', it clearly isn't. Even so, it is worth keeping.


'Oakington' has what I would consider the standard common dianthus shape and form. I can't say that I'm terribly excited by it.


This is the first bloom on 'Laced Romeo' and it isn't quite what I expected. Sometimes a flower of the laced varieties isn't representative of the typical bloom, so I'll see what shows as more blooms open. But even this bloom is very cool.

'Gloriosa' reminds me of a bird's feather.

favorite. possibly. sort of.

If some cruel fate determined that I could only have one Penstemon, I'd probably choose Penstemon heterophyllus. Not a big shock there, I suppose. I love P. heterophyllus for its electric blue flowers that remind me of a cobalt blue african cichlid. Not only is the color incredible, but the flowers come profusely in an easy-to-manage mound of evergreen foliage, and the plant is quite drought tolerant. For a coastal California plant, it tolerates snow and cold surprisingly well. They could survive on rainfall alone in my garden, though I usually water once or twice during the summer so that they will look better. Irrigated, I hear that they will repeat bloom throughout the summer.

Although I do like all the P. heterophyllus that I've seen, I probably wouldn't choose this cultivar P. h. 'Margarita BOP'. This cultivar has too much red-purple in it for my taste, and as the weather gets hot, the flowers turn entirely that shade, a color that grates on my nerves like a car with transmission problems. I'd prefer one of the more than 20 other cultivars, such as the awfully named 'Blue Bedder' whose flowers are a solid intense electric blue, but is a seed strain whose plants vary slightly from plant to plant.

penstemon clutei

Pink for Mom's day.


Can you believe it? One of my favorite penstemons is .... gasp ... pink.

iris 'Belize'

I love the spuria irises. For grace and color, they are incredible. For toughness, they may be unsurpassed. But this is another group of plants where I am biased. They grew uncared for around where I grew up. This one is called 'Belize' for obvious reasons.

dianthus

The Dianthus are starting to bloom, their cheerful flowers spreading that unmistakable clove scent across the garden. I became a bit obscessed with dianthus last year, after beeing inspired by the dianthus garden in the book Venzano: a scented garden in Tuscany. I had to have some. So I bought a half dozen varieties.

'Bath's Pink' (above) was the first to begin opening. I am of mixed feelings regarding 'Bath's Pink'. The delicate flowers are beautiful, and the plants vigorous, but my plant has put so much energy into flower production that the basal leaves have turned dramatically brown. And although there are a multitude of flowers, the form of the plant is floppy. Still, I have seen other plants in other gardens with much nicer performance. Maybe mine is not in the right spot.


Species D. hispanicus began blooming next (above, and top). I have grown very fond of D. hispanicus, which is extremely drought tolerant, and has a great plant form as you can see in the top photo, being perfectly symmetrical mounds of silvery foliage. The stems are too short for long cutting stems, but certainly adequate for a posy, and are short enough that the plant retains form while in bloom. The flowers are intensely scented, which of course is one of the biggest attractions in my book.


'Firewitch' has a compact form to recommend it, and nice blue-grey foliage. It was next to begin blooming. The flowers are a brilliant magenta, which makes it stand out in the garden like a lazer beacon. This may or may not be a good thing. My plant has just started blooming, but it has not put out as many flower stems as 'Bath's Pink'. Maybe next year.


This is the first flower on 'Queen of Sheba'. Not only is it an exquisite flower in close-up detail, but the plants have a graceful vase-shape in form. Leaves are a bit more coarse than the more compact forms of dianthus, but certainly not unattractive.


'Tiny Rubies' is the last to begin flowering so far (still waiting for a couple more). The flowers are indeed tiny jewels perhaps a half inch across. There are not a large number of gems in the jewel box, but they are charming.

cistus x aguilarii

Cistus is a Mediterranean plant also known as a Rock Rose, due to it's growth in rocky hillsides and its resemblance to a single rose. It is another of those species that isn't quite hardy here, but that I had to have to give me some of the pleasure of home (I suppose I should be making sourdough bread as well). I'm told that at the Albuquerque Botanic Garden, most Cistus do just fine, but in my yard, which is higher in elevation, the plants freeze. They freeze, as in stone cold dead. I've tried nearly a dozen varieties of Cistus, most of which succumbed to winter cold.


This was one of a number that I bought from Digging Dog Nursery, and was supposed to be a Cistus x aguilarii 'Maculatus', but clearly it is not, for it lacks the "maculatus" or red spot at the base of each petal. Nevertheless, it is a survivor, and is now a five-foot shrub sporting numerous flowers that last just a day, then drop with the sun. Although the flowers are scentless, the leaves are delightfully scented: a resinous, balmy, and somehow euphorically delightful smell that was once collected for perfume. On warm days, it scents my courtyard.

spectacular failures

Every year, every garden has its share of failures (especially in New Mexico), and mine is no exception. This year, my failures have been spectacular (or, to quote the movie Moulin Rouge, "SPECTACULAR, SPECTACULAR!"). Of my garden's failures, none has been more disappointing than that of the Eremurus (above). Last year, they were incredible. This year, sigh, tear, they are miserable. I'm blaming the crazy late snow and cold weather for the sluggish growth and the blasted stems. If I could get them to be happy simply by force of will, they would have perked up, but no. Instead I have to tear my wretched eyes away from them and look at something more successful (like the Ceanothus).
My two rose plants (they could hardly be called bushes at this size of several inches tall) were stunted by the late cold as well (at least that's what I'm blaming). They both had serious dieback, even before the late snow killed all the newly emerged leaves. This Madame Isaac Pereire shows some hints of recovery, but looks so miserable I'm tempted to take it out. But I won't. I've learned a lesson from the Ceanothus.
Second runner-up in the disappointment category is this Echinocereus reichenbachii var. caespitosus. Some years, it is a glowing mound of perfectly formed pink flowers. Some years, like this year, it seemed as if it wasn't certain what to do. A few flowers came out, only to be malformed, then a few more, also malformed, then a few more, and so on.

Tell me about your garden failures. I need to feel better. Or worse, if you tell me all your successes.

playing

Playing with a new camera set up. Needs some work. But Phalaenopsis equestris was obliging. Except for the time it fell off the stand and spilled algae filled water over my papers.

on the side

I almost forgot about my side yard this year. Or rather I did forget about it, since the plants don't seem happy there this year. I entirely missed photographing the Camassia, but that wasn't that dramatic anyway. I almost missed the Iris missouriensis (above), which is a scraggly two-stemmed plant this year. This is the last flower of perhaps 6. Siberian iris 'Caesar's Brother' just opened a couple of blooms. The camera doesn't do them justice: the colors are richer, and more purple than this photo shows.

una mas cerveza

One more shot of Dianthus leucophaeus, at dusk, flowers just opening. Still no scent of beer, but I could be overwhelmed by the clove scent of other nearby dianthus.

beer time

I think that Dianthus leucophaeus began blooming last night, but I'm not sure since I have not been out in the garden early enough or late enough lately. This diminutive charmer blooms only at night, and flowers close quickly once touched by the sun. I sniffed the flowers this morning, and there was no scent, unlike last year, in the evening, when it smelled like a nice hoppy beer. I'll have to try again tonight, when the flowers first open. Unfortunately I didn't have time this morning, during my mad prep to get to the office, to take nicer photos.

quick shots for the day

Erigeron divergens (I think) and Penstemon heterophyllus 'Margarita BOP' cavorting.

Blackfoot daisy, doing its cute thing.


Eriogonum umbellatum (Sulfur buckwheat) at its chrome yellow stage.

spring combo

This combination turned out rather nice, although Salvia 'May Night' is a little early and the Nepeta 'Walker's Low' is a bit late for it to be perfect. The Euphorbia characias, is of course, right on the money, since it stays in perfect condition for months.

CC 2009

Although I am enchanted* by the native plants of New Mexico, it is no secret that I also desperately miss the plants of California. One of the plant genera that I most miss is Ceanothus, of which there are many cultivars (and species) which cover themselves with blue in the spring (and you know how fond I am of blue flowers). Ceanothus is commonly called "California lilac" due to its being frequently a large shrub with fragrant blue/lavender flowers. But in my book, this is no compliment to the Ceanothus.

First of all, Ceanothus has flowers more in the range of true blue than the decidedly purple (or, dare I say, lilac) of lilacs. Second, the Ceanothus is evergreen, with attractive disease resistant leaves, unlike the mildewy leaves of most lilacs. Third, the shrubs are attractive in their own right, often sculptural, unlike the misshapen blobs of the lilac. And lest you think I am biased toward Ceanothus** the fragrance of Ceanothus is nothing to write home about, being typically rather "chestnut"*** instead of the face-powder scent of Syringa vulgaris. Ceanothus (at least the blue species) are also not hardy in areas colder than about zone 8, and I live well within zone 7a, and in a climate distinctly more continental than the Mediterranean climate where Ceanothus is native.

So you can imagine my excitement when this Ceanothus seedling, of a species which is not supposed to survive frosts, survived the first winter here in Albuquerque, despite severe winter damage from record snows (and perhaps just as importantly, summer rains which are supposed to rot the roots). It grew magnificently the next summer, only to be severely damaged again the following winter. Last year, it bloomed well in late summer, on new growth. I blogged gleefully about it here (thank you, Sean Hogan at Cistus nursery!).

Look at it this year. Although there is still some winter damage from the relatively mild past winter, some buds overwintered, and the plant is now blooming 3 months earlier than last year, on a 6-foot shrub. I'm thrilled.**** A little bit of home.

Above, Ceanothus caeruleus, with Eremurus, Ballota, and Cercocarpus breviflorus.

* pun intended, New Mexico being the "Land of Enchantment"
** But really, I am.
*** My friend Steven has a less romantic description of the fragrance typically described as chestnut, but let me put it more delicately than he does: it smells postcoital.
**** Duh.