Why all the Ranunculaceae?
Ever since my father dug up an Aquillegia canadensis
from a local state park with a shovel, threw it quickly
into the trunk and planted it in our back yard, I can
recall a fascination for the columbine. In spite
of the notorious fragility of the taproot, the clump survived
and spread in our yard. For some reason, it eventually
disappeared, but whenever I see one, a precipitous slide
into juvenile reverie begins.
When I first started gardening, I knew a lot about the
general techniques of gardening, and I knew how to identify
most weeds from flowers. This knowledge is owed
to a fascinating elderly woman who used to pay me to do
her lawn and garden work, some painting and other jobs
she could no longer accomplish in her physical condition.
She too loved columbines, and had the most exquisite black
ones from Germany. She taught me a great deal about
gardening, and about life. I must have spent at
least an hour each time I visited with her talking about
history, religion, ethics, my future, her past, the life
of her husband, an aged local legend of navy boxing from WW
II.
When I left town to go to graduate school, she sent me
off with some books and some Evening primrose that still
resides in my garden and my mother's garden. As
an urban renter, my drive to gardening was submerged for
five years, until we bought our first house. Once
we decided to plant perennials, I determined to make this
childhood memory an important part of our garden.
As is typical of my hobbies, I throw myself deeply into
research, and quickly memorized a large amount of information
about perennials. I enjoy knowing the scientific
names and common names of everything in my garden--even
the weeds.
A new love presented itself to me as I was beginning
to learn: the Thalictrum.
I was attracted strongly to a very large Thalictrum
in the Lake Harriet perennial garden in Fall 1993.
I did not know at the time what it was, but a tag on the
plant gave me its name, and I stood there for some time
admiring it. At the time I was just learning the
scientific names, so I forgot the name of this one. The
following year, this plant was replaced by a clump of
T. Rochebrunianum, and now I am unsure if the plant
was a T. 'Hewitt's Double' or an T. aquilegiifolium.
I decided that I wanted one in our garden. At the
time, I had very little botanical knowledge, and did not
know they were cousins. I also neglected to write down
the species name of the plant. I know much more now.
As I read and visited various gardens, I discovered that
above the categories of plant species is a larger category
or family within which various species are pigeon holed
according to the structure of the flower. I learned
that my new favorite flower, the Thalictrum, belongs
to the family known as the Ranunculaceae, as did
my old beloved, the columbine. I started
looking at her other cousins and uncles. Strangely,
I discovered that many of my favorite plants belonged
to the family.
In the Winter of 1993-1994 we purchased the Rodale's
perennial book. There I discovered the ranunculaceae
family: capricious columbine, the fairy meadow rue,
funereal monkshood, glorious delphinium, cheery globe
flower, delicate anemone, dainty nigella and lanky, saurian
black cohosh. They all belong to the family named
for their water-loving nature: rana in Latin meant
frog. Amongst a hodge-podge of compositae,
rosaceae, fumaraciae, and liliaciae we
began our collection of ranunculaceae. We
discussed our future dreams of filling the yard with a
variety of different microsystems and a huge variety of
plants.
Sandy shared somewhat in my weird obsession with the
Ranunculaceae. I haven't met anyone who did not
at least recognize their great nobility, even though I
have never met anyone as interested in them as I am. In
1994, we began planting the whole family. By 1997, the
collection lacked only three local species which I have
yet to see available: Actaea, Coptis (goldthread),
and goldenseal. Due to the weedy invasiveness of the hardy
Ranunculus repens (buttercup and celandine) and
the garishly festive colors of the crepe papier
Ranunculus hybrids, we do not maintain any perennial
members of the namesake of the species by active choice.
I am a bit unhappy that this species is the namesake of
the family, but the name is indeed descriptive of these
plants. The Trollius is close enough in form (a
mixture of tall anemone, a buttercup and a peony) to serve
as a noble symbol of its less-desirable relatives. Every
other plant currently classified as ranuculaceae is present
in at least one species, if not several. Our garden boasts
nine distinct species
of Thalictrum, including two cultivars,
and two hybrids created by myself.
In 1995 we added on to the project, increasing the cultivated
area to about 350 square feet. Since our first Thalictrum
Flavum survived the winter gloriously, we decided
to invest in Thalictrums--all of the varieties
we could get our hands on, and line our property with
meadow rue and dahlias. We found five different types,
one of which we started from seed, the rest came from
Linders in 1 gallon pots and all the T. flavum
came from Leitner's. Seventeen plants were planted. In
1996 we watched to see the results of our efforts after
a record-breaking cold winter of minus 33 degrees.
We didn't lose anything except English Lavender.
The thalictrums began reseeding themselves, so that three
years later, I spend more time killing them and forcing
them on my friends and neighbors than I do cultivating
them. It would appear that they spread most by seed,
reaching a top size in about three years. They do not seem to spread much at all from the
roots, but rather they grow vertically in tight clumps.
By 1999, the T. rochebrunianum & T. flavum
are filling in quite a bit more space than planned.
I have been rearranging them dramatically for
years now. At this point, they act as the unifying
visual motif of the garden.
In 1995, we also put in the two north beds in the woodland
garden area and the rose and clematis west of the privacy
wall on our deck. The space from the fence to the alley
was also cultivated. We planted a pack or two of larkspurs
that pleased us greatly though many were unsuccessful.
We also planted a lot of nigella hispanica from
seed and rhoeas poppies also from seed. These were beautiful,
though we had many ideas for improving the conditions
and arrangement.
For 1996 we purchased an entire flat of larkspurs, two
packages of poppy seeds (peony flowered and 'Shirley'
doubles) and Nigella 'Persian Jewels.'
At approximately this point in our gardening careers,
I discovered a book that changed my perspective on gardening
forever. It is by Deborah Kellaway, and it's called,
Clematis
and the Ranunculaceæ This wonderful book
will teach you about this remarkable family of flowers
at the same time that it teaches you to see and
write about your garden.
For spring 1997, we purchased from Thompson and Morgan
a collection of Larkspurs (three varieties, including
Colsolida ambigua), Nigella hispanica, Nigella
damascena ‘Oxford Blue’, Adonis aestivalis,
Papaver somniferum ‘Peony flowered asst. colors’,
and Papaver rhoeas. Sown in situ in late
April, they did very well.
For Spring 1998, the bulbs came up wonderfully after
the strange El Niño winter. It was the warmest winter
and earliest spring anybody could remember. The fritillaria
display was breathtakingly other-worldly. The dwarf iris
were short-lived, but very beautiful. All of the spring
ranunculacea like the anemonella thalictroides, hepatica,
columbine, spring beauty as well as the trillium, bloodroot
and hellebores made glorious appearances.
We repeated the spring planting of larkspurs, annual
poppies, adonis and nigella. The results were excellent,
and Sandy has harvested lots of larkspur flowers for drying.
In fact, our basement is just full of drying flowers for
her craft projects.
The rest of the 1998 growing season was the best yet,
due to relatively cool temperatures and lots of rain.
We began collecting rain to water plants, rather than
our tap water. This seems to be very beneficial for the
meadow rue and especially for the acid-loving heathers.
Except for a three week dry spell in July, we were able
to keep everything watered using captured rain water.
Consequently, the garden is unbelievably lush and healthy.
The roses and raspberries grew vigorously. The Joe Pye
weed reached a height of eight feet. It was an unforgettable
year.
In Fall of 2001, I found berries of red and white actea
in the woods near the Mississippi. I have been trying
to propagate them, but it appears that they are very difficult
to germinate--requiring a sheltered or mulched location
to 120 days to stratify outdoors at a temperature of about
17-20 degrees celsius. I still have a few left,
so I will continue to try to get them to sprout.
I have never seen them in the shops. Maybe I will
eventually. (Not until Spring 2004, at
the Friends School Plant Sale, where I found three Actea
rubra.)
We put in a Nelly Moser Clematis in the Spring of 2002,
and volunteer seedlings of larkspur are absolutely stunning.
The most memorable event in the Ranunculaceae family
this spring was that the two clumps of pasque flowers
are so large now that each put off 50-60 blooms!
Beside the new fritillaria display, this was a gorgeous
sight.
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