Wild in a Maine summer
Spring wildflowers are rightly celebrated. They’re a living symbol of release from winter
Then, what about summer wildflowers? “Ho, hum.”
Not so! Here are just a few to notice when walking or riding through the countryside.
Start with steeplebush, also known as hardhack. Botanically Spiraea tomentosa, this rose cousin grows on woody stems, bearing dense pink florets at their narrowing tops. Often found in neglected fields, the little bushes – seldom taller than 3 feet – can form clumps. Green leaves with pointed tips have rusty-looking undersides.
Mowing such a field can be a pain and one might need to use a bush hog. But do enjoy the little steeples while they bloom. Then the spent stems may be dried for winter arrangements.
Spiraea latifolia is a larger cousin, with oval leaves growing straight from the stems, like steeplebush foliage. Florets may be pale pink or white – some may say “dirty white.” Find this in bright woods or at fields’ edges.
For blue, how about viper’s bugloss (Echium vulgare)? One would think that such a hairy-looking group of flowers wouldn’t show up past the camouflage, but they are indeed a striking blue. These plants thrive in horrible soils, along old roads or railroad beds. To me, they always look stubby (indeed, they don’t grow over 2 feet), but wherever they grow, they shout “summer!”
So does chicory, which I have known as dusty sailor, and is formally Cichorium intybus. Plants straggling along many a roadside are anywhere from 3-5 feet tall. Light blue flowers like narrow-leaved daisies appear along the stems.
People who have just met chicory love to pick them to make into indoor centerpieces. Alas! When the flowers come indoors out of the light, they fade to a sort of unwashed white. Others, enchanted by these lovely new blooms, try to dig them up to plant in their gardens. Because they’re deep-rooted, the plants rarely survive and in a deeply enriched flower bed, they’re homesick for the starved roadside soil.
Look also in moist, wind-protected places for blue vervain, which can rise to a full 7 feet. This one carries rather irregular candelabras of tiny tube-flowers, more purple than blue. It’s Verbena hastata. (The last word means “spear-shaped.”)
How about some yellow blossoms? In soggy places, sun or dappled shade, swamp candles light up the gloom. From many of the leaves that grow from each stem, spring tufts of smaller leaves – all this below a topping of five-petalled flowers. The golden, skinny petals carry red dots at their bases, so the flower heads are showy in dim light.
I’d love to tell about more of these summer wildflowers, but will end with St. Johnswort, of which there are several kinds. Common St. Johnswort carries its almost crowded cluster of golden, five-petalled flowers in branches at the top of each 2-3-foot stem. Hypericum perforatum grows in fields, along trails or in open woods. Many skinny leaves, spaced in pairs, clothe branchlets below the flowers. I believe that some people use St. Johnswort as a mood-lightener. How, I cannot say.
Start to notice these – one, several or all – and then see what else is in your landscape or roadscape. Does your library have William Cullina’s excellent wildflower book? Ask for it. Those pictures are a handsome help.
One of the best parts of noticing summer wildflowers: no human gardener set out to grow them; they came up on their own.
Address
United States