The Wild & Wonderful White Wood Aster

Somewhat accidentally, I’ve been noticing an abundance of white wood asters lately. Maybe it’s just a really good year for them, or maybe they’re popping up at a time when I need to see a bright, cheery, daisy-like flower the most. Versatile and found on nearly every continent, asters have been a symbol of renewal, hope, and fidelity across florilateral cultures, or those that place reverence in flowers and the messages they are emblematic of (yes, I made “florilateral” up just now, but spell check didn’t correct me and it just felt right). From my own backyard in the shady clay-soil suburbs to the naturalized preserved lands with reclaimed and aggregated soil around Pleasant Run, it seems Eurybia divaricata is experiencing something of a boom, and deserves to be venerated as such.

September Serenity

The nursery is bustling with activity this month, with deliveries and pick-ups keeping our loading area packed nearly every moment of the work day, perennials happily pushing their final blooms for the year and pollinators eagerly lapping up their bounties, and deciduous woodies cloaking themselves in their annual fall couture collection of burgundy, maroon, bronze, umber, sienna, crimson, and saffron hues. This is the time when the blues, indigos, and ultraviolets of flowering perennials emerge in full force, contrasting hypnotically against the golden glow of the late afternoon autumn sun.

Tenacious Tupelo

Tromping through the woods surrounding Pleasant Run the other day, searching for pliable branches and vines for an ongoing exposition structure, I happened to look up towards the canopy and notice twinges of crimson amongst golden yellows and lively greens, glaucous blue jewels dangling surreptitiously below. “Nyssa!”, I proudly thought to myself, admiring its early fall color from the damp forest floor. Noticing its surrounding companions – Acer rubrum, Ilex verticillata, Liquidambar styraciflua – and the moist, heavily saturated, and admittedly iron-riddled soil hosting them, the realization of our humble black tupelo’s true hardiness came to light.

Sensational Seven-Son Flower

Flowering shrubs and trees in early autumn can be hard to come by, especially ones that boast multiple seasons of interest when not in flower. Heptacodium miconoides is objectively quite the opposite: foliage perfectly designed for providing shade on hot summer days acts as the backdrop for late summer flower buds that emerge chartreuse-tinged-ivory, unfurling to fragrant pollinator magnets in September, transforming to become a lipstick red “second bloom” in mid-autumn, and finally culminating in a fantastical display of exfoliating bark that can sometimes be seen whispering a delicate, papery song in brisk winter breezes. While winter is thankfully still a ways away, let’s bask in the ornamental oddity that is the twice-blooming floral structure of seven-son flower and the pollinators that so graciously enjoy its bounty.

Summer's Last Symphony

We’re often asked what’s blooming in the heat of the moment, especially at odd times of the year where it often seems the landscape is lacking in color variety. The end of August to the beginning of September can be a confounding time for the uninitiated, those unfamiliar with the bounty of warm jewel tones found in an array of both native and ornamental plant selections. Truthfully, some of these perennials benefit from a Chelsea chop mid-summer to encourage a flush of fall blooms, but that’s not to say that late summer color isn’t possible, or that every plant requires this seasonal maintenance - you just need to know where to look.

Out of the Woods, Into the Garden

Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the last couple of days, you’ve probably been made aware that our very own Miss Americana, Taylor Swift, has announced her engagement to guy-on-the-Chiefs, Travis Kelce (sorry folks — you can’t get away from her, even here). While this is all very exciting for Swifties worldwide, it’s really the garden setting in which the proposal took place that has captivated even non-Swifties. Soft pinks and whites bloom ceremoniously around the cottage style garden, each belonging to a symbolic flower chosen serendipitously for the occasion.

Short, Sweet, Schizachyrium

The end of August heralds the end of summer, and with it comes an explosion of warm season grass seedheads preparing for their incredible textural display amidst the dewy fall morning air. Amongst these poetic Poaceae, our native bunchgrass, little bluestem, reigns supreme: upright blades of dusty blue embellished with striking purples, reds, maroons, oranges, and yellows paired with sideways sprays of fluffy seed plumes appearing as the daylight hours lessen and the temperatures fall, providing vertical structure and color everywhere from the naturalized meadow planting to the perennial cottage garden.

Horticulture for Honeybees

We love our novelty holidays here at Pleasant Run, especially ones celebrating the wonders of the natural world around us. August 16th, World Honeybee Day, is definitely one of the most deserving of novelty holidays, honoring our scruffy garden companions on each corner of the globe. This is not to be confused with World Bee Day on May 20th, which is dedicated to bee species of all shapes, sizes, and fluffiness. Honeybees belong specifically to Apis, the largest genus in the bee family, and are originally native to areas of Europe, Africa, and Asia, although their introduction as pollinating pets from country to country has helped them to proliferate on nearly every continent.

Despite their movement worldwide, human intervention and overdevelopment have significantly decreased honeybee populations, which have been impacted by factors such as pesticide use, habitat destruction, and introduced pathogens, resulting in a phenomenon of mass-scale bee deaths called Colony Collapse Disorder. While the EPA reports that instances of CCD have declined over the last five years, the threat remains at an all-time high due to the lack of available resources and the constant transport of pests and diseases brought in with international goods. One of the easiest ways to assist your local honeybee populations is to include plenty of beneficial food sources and eliminate the use of neonicotinoid pesticides.

Of course, it should be noted that not every source of pollen and nectar provides adequate nutrition. Honeybees, much like humans, require necessary quantities of proteins and carbohydrates for the colony to function properly. Incorporating a biodiverse selection of plants into our gardens and landscapes, limiting the use of monocultures, and utilizing only non-genetically modified selections are surefire methods of supporting your local honeybees. The female worker honeybees are responsible for foraging, gathering nectar and pollen for the hive, which are converted into honey and bee bread, a larval food source. It’s been found that some worker bees may be specialized to gather one or the other, and that some worker bees collect both pollen and nectar.

Honeybees tend to show favoritism towards certain flowering plants, visiting the same flower over and over to dutifully collect its bounty. Colony-wide, each bee visits a different flower, likely from a different plant, producing a nutritious medley of minerals, micronutrients, amino acids, vitamins, and metabolites. As it turns out, honey bees prefer plant nectar with a sugar concentration average between 30-50%, the optimal range closer to 60%, and their selections varying depending on the water content availability within their environmental nectar sources. Overly developed urban areas lacking green infrastructure critically reduce the resources available to honeybees and increase the risk of population decline if floral sources are scarce, monocultured, or unavailable altogether.

It’s been found that a colony that has access to multiple floral sources has a higher immunity to pathogens and an overall longer life span for worker bees. In their hunt for adequate resources, honey bees tend towards plant families with ornamentally significant members, including Fabaceae (the pea family), Asteraceae (the aster family), Apiaceae (the carrot family), Plantaginaceae (the veronica family), Fagaceae (the beech, chestnut, and oak family), Salicaceae (the willow family), Rosaceae (the rose family), Sapindaceae (the maple family), and Anacardiaceae (the sumac and cashew family).

Below is a helpful chart of plants that have been designated as beneficial forage for honeybees, although it is non-exhaustive and specific to the Mid-Atlantic, Northeast, Midwest, and Great Lakes regions, as well as the upper Southeast.

Patterns Reflected in Nature

Last weekend while conducting a horticultural therapy workshop including an activity focused on the creation of bouquets using native plants, the participants and I had a discussion on what makes a “good” bouquet versus a “bad” bouquet.  While explaining that odd numbers of things are considered more visually attractive to us than even numbered things, telling them to try to remember a ratio of 3 “thriller” flowers - 5 pieces of foliage - 8 pieces of filler, someone curiously asked, “Wait, but why is an odd number of flowers more attractive than an even amount?”

Digitalis: A Dazzling Dance with Death

With native pollinator plants claiming their throne as the kings and queens of ecologically-minded gardening and landscaping, some of the classic landscape selections that have held steadfast for centuries have started to wane in popularity, being outclassed by straight species endemic to their geographical zones and ignored for their “lack” of pollinator resources. Many non-native, non-problematic perennials and ornamental shrubs do, in fact, offer critical nectar resources for roving insects, especially in nutrient-poor ecosystems lacking in green infrastructure and design.

Some of these selections, such as compact and low-growing Nepeta ‘Cat’s Pajamas’ (PP31127) and fragrant, easy-growing Rosa rugosa are so heavily populated by buzzing bees that they could easily fool an unsuspecting plant novice into believing they’re beneficial natives.

Belonging to this eclectic group of non-native pollinator plants exists a genus of flowering perennials that have been utilized in medicinal, formal, cottage, pollinator gardens, and everything in between, starting in at least the mid-1500s and persisting into modern landscaping: the foxgloves, Digitalis.

Although Digitalis purpurea is typically the species that comes to mind when one thinks of foxgloves, there are actually over 20 species within the genus, each endemic to regions of Europe, Africa, and Asia. Considered biennials or short-lived perennials that are capable of seeding themselves into their landscapes, foxglove species most always produce towering, upright rosettes of bell-shaped flowers ranging from white to ivory, pink to purple and magenta, yellow to peach – there’s a foxglove color for nearly every palette imaginable.

The individual flowers are responsible for this plant’s namesakes, both common and scientific, referring to the bell-shape of the blooms as perfectly tailored mittens for sneaky foxes to tromp through henhouses without being detected by leery chickens. Digitalis, from the Latin digitale, meaning “finger-like” or “finger stall”, also refers to the shape of the flowers, which somewhat resemble thimbles, and are even called Finger-hut flowers in Germany for this reason. The Irish moniker for this plant is lus mór, pronounced lus-more, meaning “big flower”, although it is more commonly called Great Herb throughout Celtic botanical history.

Despite their known toxicity that makes foxgloves undesirable to rabbits and deer, Digitalis was historically used for treating heart failure due to the presence of a compound known as digoxin, which is still used today in small amounts for cardiac support. Be wary, though - ingesting even small amounts of foxglove leaves or flowers can result in hallucinations (not the fun kind), vomiting, cardiac arrhythmia, and death. Interestingly and somewhat conspicuously, the medicinal dosage versus the toxic dosage of Digitalis is eerily similar, making it all the more curious as a plant capable of reaching into both the physical and astral realms of human existence. It is perhaps this dance with death that has cemented Digitalis’ role as a magical plant, its folkloric history steeped with tales of the otherworld, of fairies and witches and unseen creatures. The bell-shaped flowers are said to be hiding spots for fairies, encouraging some esoteric gardeners to leave small amounts of honey and milk within the tiny vessels as gifts for the faefolk who watch over their gardens. It’s believed that a bent foxglove stalk indicates the presence of otherworldly beings who are sheltered within the blooms.

Fairies aren’t the only beings you may find visiting your foxglove flowers, however, as they are prime pickin’s for hungry bumblebees that can fit their entire hairy bodies into the flower cups. The lower lip of each individual bloom is appliqued with a landing strip designed to attract various bee species, specifically long-tongued bees, who begin their harvest by visiting the lowest and most open flowers first, making their way up the stalk to the closed upper blooms before starting the process over again on the next nearby foxglove. Digitalis flowers are rich in nectar, and despite not being native to North America, are still a favorite of our native bees who can be seen eagerly diving in and out of each bell-shaped bloom. As one watches a patch of Digitalis in bloom, they are greeted not only by African honeybees, but scruffy Bombus species of all types, hover flies, and even the rogue hummingbird delighting in the large trumpet-shaped blossoms.

The vertical stature and pronounced floral structure of Digitalis make it the perfect punctuating companion to the back of the perennial border or cottage garden, while its long-lasting bloomtime makes it suitable for fresh cut flower arrangements despite the Irish belief of never bringing foxgloves inside, as it was thought to bring misfortune to the household. Irish superstition aside, according to the Victorian Language of Flowers, gifting foxglove flowers symbolizes the notion of “insincerity”, although it may also signify one’s motivation: “I am ambitious for you, rather than for myself”, making a bouquet of the ostentatious blossoms either a thoughtful gift for cherished loved ones or a warning of deceitfulness. Regardless of their ultimate fate, whether it be for the cut flower garden, the pollinator garden, the witch’s garden, or as a protective bane planted outside a doorway or threshold, Digitalis is more than deserving of a revival in our North American landscapes.

Our foxgloves are in full bloom late in the season!

Add them to your next order, and the bees and fairies will thank you!

Digitalis purpurea ‘Dalmatian Peach’ #1 | (133)

Digitalis purpurea ‘Dalmatian Purple Improved’ #1 | (167)

Digitalis purpurea ‘Dalmatian Rose’ #1 | (206)

Digitalis purpurea ‘Dalmatian White Improved’' #1 | (137)

Digitalis purpurea ‘Foxy’' #1 | (179)

The Many Moths of the Mid-Atlantic

It’s been quite a week for pollinators: right on the back of National Urban Beekeeping Day (July 19th) and Connecticut ASLA’s conference, Bees in the Built Environment, the weeklong celebration of our varied native moth species begins. National Moth Week, held from July 19th to July 27th, is intended to bring awareness to the less popular Lepidopterans by educating both industry professionals as well as the general public about the importance of planting suitable larval hosts and nectar resources for moths of all genera.

Nature's Classroom: Plants for Curious Kids

I’ve been reflecting on childhood a lot lately: my own, the flourishing youth of the kids that belong to my fellow employees, and the future generations that have yet to inherit whatever mess of a world we leave behind. Summertime is often the golden season for children, with no school to worry about, plenty of swimming and sunshine to enjoy, and the whimsy of nature at their fingertips.

With our technologically focused society becoming more and more housebound, children are losing interest in the natural world. Reflecting on my own sepia-toned memories of summertime in the 90’s and early 2000’s, which were filled with treks through local woods, splashing in creeks, pushing skyward on swing sets and catching lightning bugs in the twilight, I feel a pang of sadness for iPad kids who glom onto their blue-lit idol at any given opportunity. I think it is our duty as lovers of nature, and as those that grew up in a bygone era where summertime was aglow with lush, green canopies and rainbow-sherbet-colored sunsets overhead - as opposed to the false luminescence of a handheld screen - to provide safe and provocative spaces for children to explore their outdoor environments while cultivating sensory memories that last well beyond their youth.

Tropic Like It's Hot

Before we get started this week, I just wanted to thank all of you who responded to last week’s newsletter. Knowing how many of you share my sentiments and concerns for our dwindling woodlands and riparian zones and the safety and health of the animals that live in them is both affirming and reassuring. I hope it was able to spark a larger conversation amongst your own communities about how to prevent very preventable natural tragedies in the future.

Conservation in Crisis

Happy summer, folks! Blustering in on the back of an unexpected burst of heat, humidity, and storms, the fickle mistress that is the solstice has arrived. With it, the fluorescent blooms of Callirhoe involucrata take the stage along rocky borders, hardy tropical plants like Ensete maurelli and Musa basjoo begin less tentatively unfurling their leaves, and blazing stars (Liatris sp.) shoot for the balmy summer sky, promising tiny purple fireworks in the coming weeks. The rain and cool weather have allowed for a prosperous growing season, with perennials fuller and more lush than ever before, and fruiting shrubs and trees teeming with plentiful harvests for furred and feathered friends. Despite the confident beauty of the early summer and the feel-good vibes that it should instill, it is the aforementioned fauna that I’d like to speak of this week.

Tales from the Misfit Garden

Sometimes, our best laid plans not only go to waste, but plummet to hell in a handbasket as we wonder where we went wrong. Over the last four years as I’ve chipped slowly away at my swampy Pennsylvanian yard, incorporating facultative wetland plants into the inundated soil and more lenient selections along the (slightly) drier fence line, I’ve watched with curiosity and occasional chagrin as some things thrive and other things gasp their last pathetic breaths, cursing me for placing them in poorly planned spots.

Shade Happens. Procumbens Prevails.

One of the only temperate Buxaceae family members worth talking about besides Sarcococca sp. (and I will fight you with my whole chest defending that argument) is our native, creeping evergreen groundcover, Pachysandra procumbens. Endemic to Mid-Atlantic woodlands and aptly called Allegheny spurge, Pachysandra procumbens is often overlooked for its more dense, vigorously growing Japanese cousin, Pachysandra terminalis. You may be familiar with Japanese spurge, as most people are, primarily due to everybody’s grandmother planting it back in the 70’s, allowing it to live long and prosper throughout suburbia for the last half a century.

Long Live the Lilac

May truly gifts us the cusp of springtime blooms: a mixture of yellow and purple irises, multi-hued Baptisia, prehistoric and obscure Calycanthus, perennial meadow sages and icy blue Amsonia flowers welcome the flood of seasonal colors still yet to make an appearance. Of notable spring-flowering woody shrubs, lilacs may be some of the most recognizable to even the greenest of plant novices. With all of the plant selections available these days, it’s easy to forget that classic ornamental plants like the standard lilac have maintained a critical role in landscape and garden design for centuries.

Life is Too Short - Plant Quarts!

Remember when we sort of casually dropped the “oh yeah, by the way, we’re growing more quart-sized containers now” and then puffed into thin air? Well, partially that’s because they’ve been selling like hotcakes, but also because there was something bigger in the works - we have even more quart-sized containers now. That’s right, baby: May is here, and we’re starting to put in new inventory, including a smattering of quart-sized container material.

The Punctual and Playful Purple Martin

Pre-COVID times, my family and I would vacation annually in Corolla, one of the northern most seaside towns in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Elaborate, three-story mansions act as surrogate homes for traveling families who ache for a salty, languid retreat amidst a fast-paced, technologically pressurized world. Among these houses, there were a few that sat along the beach which, in particular, displayed similarly elaborate upright structures constructed of white “gourds” arranged on spokes laterally around a central hub. Flitting in and out of the circular doorways, their liquid song spilling into the ocean air, Purple Martins would greet our crew as we shuffled to the beach. Collectively, we found them charming and soon they became a welcomed symbol of our time together in the Outer Banks. Imagine my surprise several years later when I’d find myself at Pleasant Run, face-to-face with some of the most well-designed Purple Martin houses I’d ever seen - and right here in New Jersey!

The Hidden Magic of Redbuds

Last week, we covered a notorious garden volunteer, Viola soraria, a native groundcover with a sordid history that has some scratching their heads as to why we would even bother selling it (I make my argument here and will die on this hill). This week we’re taking the alternate route and telling you about quite the opposite - a small, native tree that, very genuinely, we have a hard time keeping in stock due to their popularity and covetousness. That’s right - of course, we’re talking about our native Eastern redbud, Cercis canadensis.

Viola soraria: Friend, Foe, or Fritillary Feast?

It’s always a hard sell trying to convince someone that the “weed” they’ve been ripping out of their gardens for as long as they can remember is actually a beneficial (albeit mildly aggressive) native plant. One of the most notable, perhaps, of plants considered an offense to the native gardener’s senses is none other than Viola soraria.

Magnolia Madness!

The unraveling of magnolia flowers signifies the arrival of true spring, and this year we’ve been blessed with warm enough weather that ensures blooms won’t be destroyed by an unexpected frost. In both the landscape as well as our production houses, the magnolias are springing to life, tempting passersby with their delicate floral fragrance. Despite our meager human attraction to the large, varied, prehistoric flowers, magnolias have evolved specifically to seduce Coleopterans (beetles), Dipterans (flies), and Hymenopterans (bees, wasps, and ants). Some Central and South American magnolia species play host to scarab beetles, who not only pollinate the flowers, but also derive nutrients from the petals and utilize the large floral spaces as shelter for reproductive activities.

Vibrant Vernals

Happy spring, everybody! Although March is in its lion-before-the-lamb phase, it’s been nothing short of relieving to experience the arrival of warmer, longer days: the orchestra of birdsong is hitting a crescendo with previously southern-flown winter migrating species reclaiming their territories in our temperate Northeastern forests and wood lines; bright yellow daffodils and purple crocuses promise the return of color to our favorite outdoor spaces, signaling the true beginning of the new growing season.

Spring Housekeeping

Golden, Like Daylight

We’ve made it. The unofficial beginning to spring rides in at midnight, signaling longer sunlight hours and promising warmer days ahead. Snowdrops hang their nodding white flowers in silent agreement, while daffodils, tulips, and the rest of the bulb world are at the precipice of their annual exhibition. Some of the first crocuses are starting to appear, meaning true springtime isn’t far behind. Meanwhile, the most discerning horticultural eyes are able to discern the fattening of foliar and floral buds on woody shrubs and trees, the perking-up of evergreen groundcovers and shrubs, and even the emergence of some insect companions.

Winter Wrap-Up

Can you believe we’re just a little over a week away from the beginning of Daylight Savings? Maybe you can - after all, the days have been getting noticeably longer, the weather is slowly warming (although perhaps falsely), and the eyes of spring are beginning to peek out from their slumber.

Seeds of Hope

We’ve been hearing the word “ruderal” thrown around a lot lately. Ruderal plants are the rough-and-tumble baddies that take over in some unlikely circumstances: disturbed roadsides, slopes, poor soil conditions, drought-prone areas, burn sites, etc. You name a difficult growing situation, and there’s a ruderal plant ready to take charge.

Heart-Healing Horticulture

Right on the heels of Valentine’s Day, and with so much uncertainty and turmoil in the world, we’d like to take this week to remind ourselves to reflect and feel comforted in our heart spaces. Yeah, it sure does sound like New Age woo-woo, but speaking as a life-long existential nihilist to you, dear reader, forcing some positivity into our internal selves is rather cathartic.

New Years Resolutions & New Directions

Happy 2025, friends! We’re back and ready for a brand new year of growin’, nursin’, and slingin’ plants.

It’s a jam-packed January starting as soon as next week. We are proud sponsors of the New Directions in the American Landscape’s (NDAL) Annual Symposium, split across two fantastic event spaces over the course of two weeks.

Plant Couture & This Year's Hottest Color