Fall asters signal summer’s last gasp
Fall asters. What an uninspiring name for a flower that is Mother Nature’s last fling with summer.
I prefer the British moniker, Michaelmas Daisies, for these smouldering clouds of purple, pink and white that have been lighting up the Ontario countryside in the last few weeks. I keep seeing them everywhere — in farmers’ fields, ditches, uncultivated areas, public parks and some gardens.
It’s as if Mother Nature is saying: “Sor- ry, guys. Gotta sign off for a few months and have a rest. But here’s one last great, glorious gasp of my beauty before I go.”
And boy, what a treat they are this year. The area where I live, northwest of Toronto, is awash with wild fall asters. I wonder if that’s a consequence of all the rain that bucketed down this summer or the fact that many municipalities have (thank heavens) stopped spraying herbicides along their roadsides.
Whatever, when the little star-shaped flowers start appearing on my property, usually around the end of August, the discovery is always delicious but bittersweet, because they’re a reminder that fall — and then winter — is just around the corner.
The word “aster” comes from the Greek word for star and signifies an enormous family of plants. There are, incredibly, more than 20,000 species of asters around the world and they have some mighty peculiar names (try Aster dumosus, Aster ericoides, Aster peirsonii and Aster scopulorum for starters). But the wild purple kind that sends shivers down my spine is Aster novae-angliae, or New England aster — which is appropriate, as it’s native to North America.
These wild asters don’t take kindly to being transplanted into a flower bed (I’ve tried it. You’re better off buying
It’s as if Mother Nature is saying: ‘Sorry, guys. Gotta sign off for a few months and have a rest. But here’s one last great, glorious gasp of my beauty before I go.’
garden cultivars.) They also disappear from the landscape if forced to compete with a bossy plant that’s beloved by eco-evangelists: goldenrod or Solidago. There is, alas, an unbelievable amount of gushy blather spouted on the web about goldenrod. One touchy-feely website claims that “a single spike is sufficient to heal unbelief.” (Huh? About what exactly?) Yet the brutal truth is, goldenrod will take over if you let it, crowding out many other lovely wild flowers, including those fabulous fall asters.
I’ve wised up now. To give our asters more of a chance, the man in my life gets out our brush mower in spring and cuts down great swaths of goldenrod, before it flowers. Yet he’s careful to leave behind any developing aster stalks he sees — a strategy that’s working. Our asters are multiplying nicely. But if you want to do this too, caution, folks: the foliage looks very similar in the early stage of growth. How to tell them apart? Aster foliage has a bluish tinge, yet goldenrods’ is definitely all green — and asters’ leaves are a bit more rounded at the edges than their bossy rival’s.
The Chippewa Indians used to smoke aster roots in a pipe to attract deer. They were apparently drawn to the earthy smell. But I’m content to just stroll around in fall, letting that smouldering purple make my heart sing.
All hail our native asters! Sonia is speaking about her award-winning book The Untamed Garden to Uxbridge Horticultural Society on Oct. 9 at 7 p.m. Admission free. Details: pamelakuiper@andrewswireless.net