Perennials for Shade

Interesting Alternative to Miniature Hosta

Drimiopsis maculata is a diminutive groundcover, reaching only 6 to 8 inches. Common names include Little White Soldiers, African False Hosta, and Spotted Leopard Lily or simply, Leopard Lily. The “white soldiers” name refers to the spring and summer flowers, which are small, tightly packed clusters that look like a white Grape Hyacinth. The “lily” reference is to the bulb, which is fleshy like a Daffodil rather than overlapping scales like a Lily or Garlic.

Leopard Lily is listed as cold-hardy in zones 8-10, but has grown well for me in Zone 7b for many years. It has the same cultural needs as most Hosta – moist soil with acidic to neutral pH, part to full shade. Leaves emerge directly from the bulb, without stems. Its purple freckles are darker in more shade. The spots may fade away later in the summer. Given a little fertilizer and irrigation during dry periods, Leopard Lily will spread reliably if not rapidly. It will withstand some drought; wilted leaves are a plea for moisture. They are quite tolerant of heat and humidity.

‘Blue Mouse Ears’ or other miniature Hosta make a beautiful edging for a shady bed, but frequently slugs damage those in the Mary Snoddy garden. Leopard Lilies make an attractive edging also, and are rarely bothered by slugs. Voles have never damaged mine, but that may be a case of luck rather than their distaste for the bulbs. Plants also do well in containers but pot-grown specimens are more prone to cold damage.

Like Hosta, Leopard Lily goes completely dormant in winter. Plants are propagated by dividing clumps of bulbs. This can be done at any time of the year but spring is preferred.

A note on the taxonomy of Drimiopsis maculata: There is disagreement between sources as to whether it belongs in the Hyacinth, Lily or Asparagus family (Hyacinthaceae, Liliaceae, or Aparagaceae). The word maculata means “spotted,” and everyone agrees on that.

The Tractor Seat Plant

“Tractor Seat Plant” is the descriptive common name of Farfugium japonicum. The variegated (yellow spots) form has the common name “Giant Leopard Plant.”

Farfugium (pronounced far-FEW-gee-um) is hardy in zones 7-9. The yellow flowers are incidental to the foliage, exotic-looking leaves so shiny that they appear polished. Plants are not picky as to soil acidity. They want partial shade and moist soil, and are ideally sited along streams or near water features. They also make impressive container plants if the gardener provides plentiful irrigation. The large rounded to kidney-shaped leaves wilt pitifully when they need water. Plants die to the ground in winter, then pop up in spring and bloom in late summer to fall before they go dormant again.

Opinions vary as to whether solid or variegated leaves are the prettiest. (I favor the solid green.) The clumps of foliage look especially good against a solid brick or rock wall. Give plants plenty of space. Mature plants may reach four feet tall, three feet across. Individual leaves may reach impressive widths of 18 inches, held aloft on 3–4-foot stalks that rise directly from the ground. Plants are propagated by division. ‘Bad Hair Day’ and ‘Crispatum’ cultivars have a ruffled edge to the leaves.

Farfugium is rarely troubled by disease or insects, although slugs sometimes attack. They are moderately deer resistant.

garden Giant Leopard Plant with concrete fairy

A young Farfugium,. When mature, it will shade the fairy statue like a large umbrella.
Photo by Suzanne Leone. Used with permission.

Pretty Petite Primroses

Grocery store flower departments are filled with potted Primroses, basal rosettes of crinkled leaves topped with velvety flowers of intense burgundy, purple, yellow, bi-colors. These members of the Primula family, sold for table-top décor, are subtropical plants treated as annuals. There are hundreds of Primula species. They vary in height from inches to more than three feet. Some grow in rock gardens, others at water’s edge.

In general, Primroses want shade, cool (not frigid) temperatures, moist soil with plentiful organic matter. Primula vulgaris, a yellow-flowered form, is perennial in zones 4-8. It has yellow flowers held in candelabra-like clusters and blooms the same time as Mertensia (Virginia bluebells), which shares the same cultural preferences and makes a great companion plant. The rosette leaves elongate after flowering, up to 8 inches. Given partial shade and plentiful moisture, plants will reseed. They can also be propagated by division after flowering. A row of Primroses makes a great pond-side border. Flowers attract bees.

Plants are prone to insect damage (aphids, thrips, slugs, spider mites) and fungal diseases. All parts are toxic to cats, dogs, and horses.

Primula vulgaris, Common Primrose, is anything but common.

Primula vulgaris, Common Primrose, is anything but common.

A row of Primroses, seen with neighbors Virginia Bluebells and Geranium. These woodland beauties outlasted the daffodil bloom at bottom right.

A row of Primroses, seen with neighbors Virginia Bluebells and Geranium. These woodland beauties outlasted the daffodil bloom at bottom right.

Enjoy these grocery-store Primroses as indoor plants, and discard when they begin to look tattered.

Enjoy these grocery-store Primroses as indoor plants, and discard when they begin to look tattered.

Well-Earned Moniker: Cast Iron Plant

Cast Iron plant (Aspidistra elatior, pronounced ass-pih-DIS-trah eh-LAY-tee-or) is adored by flower arrangers and those with a self-professed black thumb. These stalwart plants have vertical leaves to 24” or so. Planted directly in the ground, they tolerate heavy shade, dry soil and neglect, although they look best with a little added moisture in dry periods. Flower arrangers love them because the leaves stay firm for a lengthy period after being cut, and will even survive for a time without being in a vase of water. Leaves can be pleated, rolled, or folded for special arrangement effects, or even used to line the inside of a clear container that features blooming stems.

Cast Iron plant will survive outdoors in zones 7 and 8. In colder zones, it makes a great houseplant due to its low light requirement. Its persistence in the face of neglect won it common names like Bar-room Plant or Parlor Palm. Outdoors, it prefers shade or partial shade, and will not tolerate direct sun. Protect from strong winds to avoid tattered leaves. 

Dr. Lew Feldman, the Garden Director at University of California’s Botanical Gardens at Berkley, wrote a fascinating history of how the plant earned its name. To summarize, Cast Iron plant became popular as a houseplant in the late 19th century when gas lighting introduced ethylene into home interiors. (Ethylene is used now used as a growth-restricting hormone by professional growers.) The Cast Iron plant has a biochemistry that caused it to ignore the large amount of ethylene indoors, making it one of the few plants that would survive. Find his entire article here.  

Cast Iron plant, an asparagus relative, spreads by rhizomes. It is evergreen where winter temperatures remain above 20 degrees, making it a good alternative for hosta and a good companion to ferns. Deer don’t browse it

The coarse texture of Aspidistra contrasts well with fern fronds. This beautiful planting is in No Man’s Land, the area next to an exterior wall where little rain falls.

The coarse texture of Aspidistra contrasts well with fern fronds. This beautiful planting is in No Man’s Land, the area next to an exterior wall where little rain falls.

Pretty Persicaria, Easy For Shade

My apologies, readers. Yesterday’s blog contained an error in the plant photo identification. This is the corrected version. Sorry!

If you are looking for a low-maintenance plant with attractive foliage that will fill a shady area quickly, look no further than the Persicarias. Persicaria (pronounced per-sih-KAR-ee-uh) genus has a reputation for invasiveness but there is at least one member of the genus that is well-behaved. The common name, Knotweed, does not lend appeal. There are two species worthy of consideration.

Persicaria microcephala ‘Red Dragon’ leaves are burgundy marked with a vee-shaped shield. It has tiny white (sterile) flowers, but is grown for the lovely foliage. Unlike some of its cousins, Red Dragon has a clumping habit. It does not spread underground by stolons. It will, however, root if one of the stems rests atop soil. I have not encountered this, but a peony support or modified tomato cage would ensure it does not.  

Persicaria virginiana ‘Painter’s Palette’ brightens a shady area with pale yellow-to-cream foliage marked with green, pink, dark green and burgundy variegations. It is sometimes identified as Tovara virginiana. Painter’s Palette does spread by underground runners, so take great care to ensure that it does not extend into undesired areas. It produces skinny stems with tiny red flowers. These are attractive when seen up close, but are not particularly impressive.

Both Red Dragon and Painter’s Palette will reach 24 inches in height. They are low-maintenance, tolerating just about any soil and limited drought, though they thrive in partial shade with regular irrigation. Consider them as an alternative to Hosta. Because the beauty of these plants is in their foliage rather than blooms, they provide a much longer season of appeal than flowering plants. Although Persicarias are in the same family as buckwheat, they are not edible. Both species die to the ground in winter and return reliably in zones 6-8, maybe wider. In the Mary Snoddy garden, deer nibble on Red Dragon while they ignore the adjacent planting of Painter’s Palette. I don’t know why. I have given up trying to determine why certain plants are deer fodder.

Even though it is not perennial and it is not for shade, another Persicaria that deserves an honorable mention is Persicaria orientale. Its common name, Kiss-Me-Over-The-Garden-Gate, lured me into planting it. Unlike the two mentioned above, Kiss-Me is an annual.  It is grown from seed in full sun. It will not transplant, so must be started directly in the ground.  It reseeds, so an initial success is usually followed by a reappearance year after year. The Japanese Beetles love it as much as I do. By late summer, the leaves are tattered, so I have let this one slip from the Snoddy garden.

Please do not confuse the above Knotweeds with Mexican Bamboo, a thug also known as Japanese Knotweed. Now listed as Polygonum cuspidatum, it has moved in and out of several genus, including Fallopia, Reynoutria and Otatea. Mexican Bamboo is invasive everywhere. Once established, it is darn near impossible to eradicate. I set a clump on fire numerous times before I finally caved and treated it with nasty herbicides. Even then, it required multiple treatments to kill it. Several years ago, a normally reliable catalog company sold a variegated form that they said would not spread. It was beautiful; I was seduced. They were wrong. It spreads invasively, albeit a tiny bit slower than the non-variegated variety. DO NOT plant Mexican Bamboo. Newsweek magazine ran an article in July, 2014 entitled “Japanese Knotweed: The Invasive Plant That Eats the Value of Your Home.” I rest my case.

The Love of the Weird Leads Us Astray

Even experienced gardeners fall victim to plant lust. I learned a valuable lesson five years ago when I purchased an unfamiliar (to me) plant at a spring plant festival. I should have recognized danger when the seller identified the plant by a cute name (“Spotted Dinosaur Food”) and had no clue as to its genus and species. The innocent-looking plant resembled a miniature version of Gunnera, a gorgeous plant that thrives in the Pacific Northwest and will not survive in the heat of the southeast. Gunneras are known for their extremely large, exotic leaves.

The colloquial moniker of my quart-sized purchase meant a long search for its true identity. I am forever grateful for the internet image search results that allowed me to identify my new baby as Petasites japonicia ‘Variegatus’ (pronounced pet-ah-SIGH-tees), common name Variegated Butterbur or Sweet Coltsfoot. The second red flag waved in phrases like “vigorous spreader” and “large colonies.” Now, I wage an ongoing battle to keep mine in check.

Unusual, unimpressive clusters of green blooms arise in late winter, before leaves appear. The plant spreads aggressively by fleshy rhizomes rather than seeds. Their expansion should be restrained by a barrier such as metal edging, concrete or asphalt. Any tiny portion of the fleshy root will regenerate into a new plant. Butterbur grows in zones 3a to 8b. It goes completely dormant in cold weather. Leaves are fuzzy to touch. Deer leave them alone.

Taking its tendency to spread into account, Butterbur makes an impressive show. Leaves of the variegated forms may reach two feet in width. The non-variegated form may reach an impressive four feet in width. Both forms prefer shade to partial shade and plentiful moisture. Spread can be reduced somewhat by providing  lower moisture, but be prepared for wilting leaves in the hottest part of the year.  The leaves have an exotic, tropical appearance that pair well with hosta and ferns.

Plant scale is obvious when compared to my hand.

Plant scale is obvious when compared to my hand.

Variegation is apparent but not overwhelming.

Variegation is apparent but not overwhelming.

Virginia Bluebells are Ringing

Mertensia virginica (pronounced mer-TEN-see-ah ver-JIN-ih-kah ) is an unwieldy name for a beautiful spring wildflower. Better known as Virginia Bluebells or Virginia Cowslips, this southeastern native thrives in upstate South Carolina, where I live. If you think the Latin name belies the plant’s beauty, consider some of the other common names: Lungwort, Oysterleaf or Roanoke Bells.

Thin stems with rounded grayish-green leaves are topped by clusters of pink buds that open to sky blue, trumpet-shaped flowers. The blooms have five stamens spaced so far away from the pistil that individual flowers are unable to self-pollinate. Instead, butterflies play matchmaker, aided by an occasional bumblebee. The fertilized bloom produces four seeds. If left undisturbed, the seeds give rise to spreading colonies but are not considered invasive. They can also be propagated by division. The arching stems may reach up to 24 inches. They are hardy in growth zones 4 to 9.

Virginia Bluebells thrive in shade and moist soil that is high in organic matter. Pair them with Primroses or Trillium for a gorgeous spring display. They are classified as “ephemeral” which means “fleeting.” Plants appear, bloom, and then disappear as they go dormant until the following spring. This makes them an ideal pairing with hosta, since they will go dormant just as the hosta starts to gain size.

Stunning Shade Plant

Variegated Solomon’s Seal is a top performer in the Mary Snoddy garden. It looks good from the time bulbous, pinkish heads emerge from cold soil in March until dry, frost-killed yellow/tan leaves make whispery sounds in autumn breezes. In late spring, dainty white flowers dangle in pairs from the underside of its curved stems, like tiny white bells. These are described as fragrant, but I have never been able to detect a scent.

We do not normally think of tall plants as being groundcovers, but Solomon’s Seal works well as a carefree soil cover in areas where few other plants thrive. Solomon’s Seal is undemanding. It prefers partial shade and moist-to-wet soil, but survives full-sun exposure at a pond perimeter in my zone 7b garden. Elsewhere, I do not offer supplemental irrigation except in extended dry periods. Plants grown in sun attain only half the height of those grown in partial to full shade. It will also tolerate deep shade. They can be grown in containers, but all stems arch the same direction which may give an unbalanced look.

Plants combine well with ferns and hostas, and look especially great when paired with dark green European ginger, Asarum europaeum.

I am a bit of an evangelist when it comes to Solomon’s Seal. Visitors to my garden often admire the large swaths in my shady beds and woodland areas. Though they are best divided in autumn, I grab a sharp shovel and dig clumps of the shallow rhizomes to share. They spread rapidly enough to disguise the removals within one season. Plants are not bothered by insects and are rarely browsed by (my) deer,

There are several anecdotal explanations for the common name, but none of them appeal to me. Instead, I think the gardener who chooses this plant for their shade garden exhibits the wisdom of King Solomon. Variegated Solomon’s Seal, Polygonatum odoratum ‘Variegatum’ was named as Plant of the Year in 2013 by the Perennial Plant Association.

Solomon’s Seal in bloom

Solomon’s Seal in bloom

Solomon’s Seal buds pushing up in March

Solomon’s Seal buds pushing up in March

Chinese Foxgloves

Spring means “garden tour time” here in South Carolina. I enjoy garden tours and attend as many as possible because (a) I enjoy seeing the way other people have conquered garden challenges and (b) I discover exciting new plants.

Several years ago, I encountered a plant I had never seen before. The homeowner/tour host told me it was a Chinese Foxglove, Rehemannia eleta. The beautiful tubular blooms made a pink cloud in the dry shade under a tree. The voice that lives in my head said, “Must.Have.That.Plant!”

I scoured all local nurseries, trying to find this beauty for sale. When that failed, I turned to the internet. I did not find plants, but I did find seeds for sale, at a company located in Ontario, Canada. Fast-forward a couple of weeks, and I held the precious envelope, ready to start my own pink cloud. When I opened the seed envelope, there was a smaller, waxy envelope inside. And inside this envelope there was – nothing. I telephoned the seed seller, which was a bit frustrating. I do not speak French; they did not speak Southern. When I was transferred to someone who understood my problem, I was told that there was, in fact, seeds inside the inner envelope. They were the size of dust particles. I hung up and found my trusty jeweler’s loupe, one of the handiest items ever created. 

Yes, there were minute seeds, visible with 10x magnification. I had never started anything so small, so I took special precautions. I used a very fine seed-starting mix, soaked it completely, and packed it lightly into plastic 4-cell packs. I tore a paper coffee filter into tiny scraps. then used tweezers dip each filter piece into water. I touched a corner of the damp filter to  the seeds, one at a time.  The seeds adhered nicely to the damp filter. I laid each filter piece and its attached seed on top of the seed starting mix, one per cell.  In just a few weeks, I had tiny plants and large self-congratulation. (This technique works well for any tiny seeds.)

Since then, the Chinese Foxgloves in the Mary Snoddy garden have reseeded into large, handsome clumps. (I guess Mother Nature did not need tweezers and a coffee filter.) They have a travel plan of their own design, and crop up in other places in the same shady bed. I assume that their seeds are wind-distributed.

Chinese Foxgloves thrive in the same soil, moisture and light exposure as Hostas. Despite the common name, they are not true Foxgloves (Digitalis). The tubular blooms have a bit of flare to the petals. They are cold-hardy In Zones 7-11. If deadheaded, they will bloom for months. I choose to skip the removal of old blooms, and still enjoy four to six weeks of flowering.