SEPTEMBER MAKES me sad. The dwindling light is partly to blame, but I’m also dispirited by the feeling of things waning, of the life force of the garden withdrawing. Many plants have gone to seed, and while summer annuals go on producing, the flowers are smaller, and a bit crabbed – a last crooked hurrah. And yes, I know that it’s also the season of mellow fruitfulness and all that, but at this point, before autumn is fully in, I regret the loss of summer’s energy. There is a stillness in the air that is not far from death.
I’ll stop the dismal talk in a minute, and move on to lighter things – but I think there’s no harm in occasionally mentioning that all is not always rosy in the garden, or in the gardener, for that matter.
Last year, in order to perk myself up in this in-between season, I went out and bought a heap of late-flowering perennials. They took the edge off the gloom then, but almost every one of them disappeared during the following 12 months – victims, no doubt, of the parched and crowded conditions in my urban borders. So this year, aside from the unkillable Japanese anemones, there is not a lot in our front garden to brighten the fading days.
Still, these tall, wiry-stemmed individuals are one of my top plants – with long-lasting flowers that bloom from August to October, or later. They’re happy in sun or shade, and in any kind of soil, as long as it is not soggy. I half-heartedly try to keep mine confined to areas of dry shade, where little else will grow. But they inevitably jump all over the garden – which is fine with me this month, as they have almost single-handedly rescued the season. There are many different kinds: most are cultivars of Anemone huphensis or of the crossbred A x hybrida. Among those that are readily available are ‘Honorine Jobert’ (with snow-white petals contrasting beautifully with golden stamens and a lime-green boss), and the semi-double, bright pinky mauve ‘Prinz Heinrich’ – which is indistinguishable from the similar Bressingham Glow.
Another good one for this time of the year, and equally unfussy, is red bistort (Persicaria amplexicaulis). It bears skinny, vertical flower heads on upright stems. The deep cerise ‘Firetail’ is the most commonly seen, but there are other varieties with white, pink or purple flowers. The unlovely lower leaves are similar to those of dock, but they don’t intrude much upon the view. Unlike some bistorts, this one is not a runner. Instead it builds up to a large clump, and appreciates some room in a border.
The large sedums, another group of late bloomers, have great flat plates of blossom, usually in shades of pink – although ‘Stardust’ has white flowers. The so-called ‘Autumn Joy’ (‘Herbstfreude’ is the correct name) has been around for years, and is a fine plant. The rose-pink flower heads mature to a deep wine tone before drying into rusty skeletons that stand gaunt and proud all winter. There are many other lovely sedums, all of which like a sunny spot and soil that does not become waterlogged. ‘Purple Emperor’ has beauteous deep-maroon leaves, stems and buds, and pinkish flowers. ‘Brilliant’ is just that, with frothy, bright-pink mounds of flower; it is one of the best for attracting butterflies and bumblebees. The flower stems of sedums sometimes flop outwards – especially in the second and subsequent years. This can be avoided by applying the “Chelsea chop”: cutting back some or all of the stems in late May (at the same time as the Chelsea Flower Show), so that the plant grows back dumpier and sturdier.
The Chelsea chop is also recommended for the sneezeweeds (Helenium), which may fall foul of mildew. In this case, only the stems at the front of the clump are cut back, so that their shorter lengths hide the mouldy legs of those in the rear. Heleniums, which may be yellow, copper or red (or all three), are just one of the many genera of hot- and warm-coloured north American daisies that bring this month alive. Among the others are tickseed (Coreopsis), oxeye (Heliopsis), coneflower (Rudbeckia), and the perennial sunflowers (Helianthus). All come from prairies or damp woodlands, and do best in moist, well-drained soil. At the purple end of the palette is the stately Joe Pye weed, Eupatorium purpureum – which has mounds of tiny flowers, beloved of all nectar-supping insects.
And then there are the melancholy asters, in gently depressed tones of lavender and mauve. ‘Little Carlow’ and ‘Mönch’ are both popular and usually easy to grow (which makes it all the more galling that they have each upped and died with me). These purple daisies perk up in the low autumn sun, and glow with an ethereal luminescence in the evening light.
Let’s cross the globe to Africa for a final bunch of seasonal flowers. The southern parts of that great continent give us the fieriest of all late performers, the red-hot pokers (Kniphofia). Also known as torch lilies, they light up a landscape, especially when planted en masse. Their leaves are usually somewhat scrawny and weak, so they are best planted in such a way as to disguise this failing. But don’t crowd them at the back of a border: most are grassland species, and they like a bit of sun at their feet. In fact, they go nicely with some of the less lofty ornamental grasses, such as the buff-coloured (at this time of the year) Stipa tenuissima and the bronze Carex buchananii.
Also from Africa are the Crocosmia clan, to which our naturalised montbretia belongs. This is the pretty orange eruption of bloom that decorates ditches and hedgerows of the south and west of this island. Some newer crocosmias with a special Irish flavour are those bred by John Joe Costin, among them the fruity ice-pop-toned ‘Dakar’ and ‘Malabar’. I saw these singing their hearts out at the Botanic Gardens in Glasnevin last weekend, and they convinced me that this wasn’t such a sorry season after all.
DIARY DATE
Susan Sex is this country’s most skilled botanical artist. Her meticulous and perfect drawings of wildflowers decorate our current definitive series of 32 postage stamps, and her book Ireland’s Wild Orchids (with Brendan Sayers) is a collectors’ item. Last year saw the publication of a field guide (again with Sayers, and almost too beautiful to bring outside). An exhibition of her botanical paintings, including many of Ireland’s wild orchids, is at Frank Lewis Gallery, Killarney, until October 3rd. www.franklewisgallery.com