My garden in Birmingham started its long unravelling early this year. The heat and lack of rain meant autumn was felt in early August. It was my last month in this garden and all those muted yellows and browns, the straw-blond stems and bleached seedheads seems to be saying, “If you’re off, so are we.” I longed for summer to linger a bit longer so I had more time for goodbyes. But isn’t that always the way?
The best of these plants reminded me that there are some that are very good at endings: they do so with conviction and passion rather than just slinking away quietly. There are plants that don’t just have good colours in their retreat, but stand strong with it too. These plants are also good for wildlife – those that can stand tall over winter make a good refuge for hibernating creatures, and often provide seedheads that will feed birds and small mammals into winter.
I have a very good form of the umbel Dystaenia takesimana from Crûg Farm Plants, collected in South Korea. It is a handsome thing that reaches 2m even with the competition and shade of my quince tree. The umbels are plate-sized and spent all summer crowded with bees, hoverflies and butterflies, but now will stand all winter thick with seed for any bird to plunder. The seedheads are strong enough for small birds to land on them and even when the seed has dropped, the skeleton seedheads remain structurally sound until I cut them back in mid-spring. In late summer the leaves are a good buttery yellow, too.
A less beefy option is Cenolophium denudatum, the Baltic parsley, that grows to a metre tall and looks lovely with things like astrantias. Then there are the light, airy seedheads of Deschampsia cespitosa “Goldtau”, and the darkest purple foliage of Actaea “Queen of Sheba” or Actaea simplex “Atropurpurea Group” – all plants that can take on autumn looking good.
All of these need cool, deep, fertile soils, however, and suffer in full sun – something to think about with periods of prolonged drought. All, that is, except the Deschampsia, which can tolerate temporarily and more prolonged dry spells.
Finally, I have a soft spot for Thalictrum. In spring, it’s all soft greens, then those delightful flowers, and by autumn the foliage has turned yellow and tan against darker stems and fine seedheads. Hard frosts will collapse them, but they go down gracefully. They do best with a little dappled shade. The deep purple stems of Thalictrum “Elin” (pictured) is particularly good looking: it does grow to 2.5 metres tall, but its airy nature means it fits into even smaller spaces.
