Teasel Update

White teasel flowers - what a surprise!

I thought my seeds came from the plants in my Rosemont garden, but those had pale lavender flowers. Now I'll never know where these came from. That's okay. I like an element of randomness in the garden. I play a kind of seed planting roulette, broadcasting here and there with the knowledge seeds will grown where conditions are right for them. I may have found these on a roadside two years ago and forgotten. Or they may be a gift of the birds. Another garden mystery. This link shows the plants in late June.

Teasel: Dipsacus fullonum

For the first time in this garden, teasel is standing erect in the mid-morning sun, translucent, glowing with light. This is a beautiful plant for catching the light; its thin, rigid leaves imitate stained glass. And the dramatic flower heads are at their best in early summer, when the tissues are still fresh and bright green.

Teasel is listed by 46 states as a noxious weed and it certainly can be. If I'm not careful to cut off the seed heads before they mature in the fall, I'll have hundreds, if not thousands, of seedlings next year. Should they go to seed, it's easy to stomp them into oblivion as they germinate, but that's a risky business. You do not want to let this plant get out of control.

Teasel apparently was imported into the U.S. in the early to mid-19th century for use in wool processing. Here is an informative link.

To my eye, teasel looks best used as an occasional accent. Large stands lose something because the plant's unique, upward-reaching structure and reflective qualities are lost when too many compete for attention. They also become rather scraggly by fall, so I recommend cutting them to the ground before seeds mature. (Use gloves; they are covered with sharp prickels.) You can save one or two seed heads for limited planting.

Teasel is a biennial, so in the first year you will see only low rosettes with prickly leaves, then in the second year they soar to six or seven feet. The plant dies after making seed, so you will need to sow seed every year to assure a continuing presence in the garden.

If you are not sure you can be vigilant, do not plant teasel.

Seedheads in the garden

Noel Kingsbury's Seedheads in the garden is written for gardeners who haven't yet become converts to the beauty of plants in the fullness of autumn, or the opportunities they provide for continuing interest - and moments of wonder - during their death and decay in winter. The new book lacks the poetry of Designing with Plants (written with Piet Oudolf) and the erudition of Planting Design: Gardens in Time and Space (also with Oudolf), but it carries forward a useful idea. I hope it will reach a wider audience interested in sustainable garden design.

I'm still in the early stages of planting the new garden on Federal Twist Road, but patterns are beginning to emerge, and a collection of seedheads is in the future. Rudbeckia maxima has proven to be deer resistant through the green season, and its large dark brown seedheads (above and right) contrast well with grasses. The grasses, too, offer an even longer lasting, though smaller and more delicate tracery. Miscanthus purpurescens, leaning in the wind in the photo below, is full of drama, while Panicum virgatum 'Cloud Nine' emulates its tranquil cloud-like name. It too can be blown wildly about and lean to the ground in the wind - though the lower photo was taken on a still day - and surprisingly returns upright when the weather settles.

Miscanthus purpurescens











Panicum virgatum 'Cloud Nine'

I intended to collect teasel (Dipsacus fullonum) seed in the wild this fall, but never got around to it. I planted it in my garden in Rosemont, where it was especially beautiful in summer, and added interesting structure in winter. Note that it requires careful control, seeding with wild abandon. The last photo shows it in mid-summer.

Dipsacus fullonum