When the DNA of plants is revealing secrets
I do enjoy a surprise in the garden. It’s one of the joys, especially late in the season when the garden is winding down. There are fewer fresh blooms now and the seed gatherers have swooped in — goldfinches stripping the echinacea that only a few short weeks ago were ablaze with colour.
Twice this week, however, my eyebrows elevated. The first time was when I rediscovered a plant I thought had gone missing. It hadn’t wandered off or anything. I’d simply misplaced it, you could say. It was a bargain found at a sale of perennials in late July. It wasn’t the best time to be planting, but I squeezed it into a flower bed, thinking I’d nothing to lose, then promptly forgot about it. Only in late September as neighbouring foliage began to wilt a little did it burst through, flower buds ready to pop.
It was a Nippon daisy (Nipponanthemum nipponicum), sometimes called Montauk daisy. When I did spot it last week, I didn’t recognize it. Fortunately, I had recorded the location, so there was no doubt about its identity, although that wasn’t always the case.
It’s one of those plants that were reclassified a few years back. Originally from Japan, Nipponanthemum nipponicum used to be called Chrysanthemum nipponicum until a lonely plant geneticist, who may have been researching their own DNA at the time, cried out, “Hey, you’re not my mum.” Thus, the plant was renamed and listed as the only species in a new genus. No surprise that it’s still referred to by some as a chrysanthemum.
For now, I’ll stick with Nippon daisy. I planted it in conditions that should suit it perfectly — full sun, yet it can tolerate some shade, and in soil that’s on the dry side. It’s a drought tolerant plant that once established can survive harsh conditions. Further south, it can become an invasive nuisance.
The daisylike flowers are a couple of inches across and brilliant white with a greenish centre. As a bonus, they provide late season pollen for bees. Unlike our familiar mums, the dark leaves are glossy, almost like leather. My plant is still small with only one gangly stem, but it should fill out next year and grow as high as a patio table. Hardy enough for this area, it will likely die back to the ground over winter, then in early summer I’ll be trimming it back to encourage a shrubbier plant and ensure masses of flowers come next fall. There is a pink variety, Nipponanthemum nipponicum roseum, except it’s perhaps not so widely available as the more popular white.
My other surprise this week was when my little myrtle flowered. I haven’t owned one before and never expected flowers, more often seeing them pruned as topiary, or as bonsai and looking like ancient miniature trees. My myrtle, Myrtus communis ‘compacta,’ is indeed a small tree that in the right climate can grow to the height of that same patio table (botanical names can be tedious, but they are important when sourcing information).
I’ve only had it since last fall, when I bought it as a tiny houseplant. It’s been outside all summer, where it’s grown so well I’ve been trimming it regularly, practising my topiary skills. I did envision a crouching tiger or even a bold raccoon — with my skills, it would look more like botanical roadkill — so I stuck with a vaguely globe shape. And now, covered in tiny white flowers, I learned that spring is the normal flowering time, so that’s another surprise.
One more surprise, or rather a question: is it the routes I’ve travelled, or are there fewer purple asters blooming along country roadsides this fall?
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David Hobson gardens in Waterloo and is happy to answer garden questions, preferably by email: garden@gto.net. Reach him by mail c/o In the Garden, The Record, 160 King St. E., Kitchener, Ont. N2G 4E5