Well, I’ve had a little trouble finding enough flowers still blooming to do another flower post but after a couple of weeks of hunting, here is what I’ve found. I saw a meadow full of small blue asters that I think were blue wood asters (Aster cordifolius.) I’m seeing more of these this year than I’ve ever seen even though they’re blooming quite late, even for an aster. They’re everywhere I go right now and are a joy to see in October.
They’re pretty little things.
Here are those blue wood asters blooming along the river with what I think are brown eyed Susans (Rudbeckia triloba,) which have apparently escaped a garden and are enjoying life along the river. There are hundreds of them blooming there. Their native range is from New York west to Minnesota and south to Utah and Texas.
I was surprised to find the pale yellow flowers of wild radish (Raphanus raphanistrum.) These were similar in color to those of the sulfur cinquefoil (Potentilla recta) but they can also be white or pink. This plant is considered a noxious weed because it gets into forage and grain crops. Wild radish is in the mustard family and is sometimes confused with wild mustard (Brassica kaber,) but that plant doesn’t have hairy stems like wild radish. Everyone seems to agree that this is a non-native plant but nobody seems to know exactly where it came from or how it got here.
Sweet everlasting (Pseudognaphalium obtusifolium) is a plant that won’t be finished until we have a real hard freeze. The plant’s common name comes from the way it lasts for years after being cut and dried. Usually the plant has many buds rather than open flowers, as this example shows. An odd name for it is rabbit tobacco, given to it by Native Americans because they noticed that rabbits liked to gather where these plants grew. Because of these gatherings they thought that rabbits must smoke the plant as a way to communicate with the Creator. They apparently decided to try smoking it too because it was and still is used in smoking mixtures by some Native people. I’ve never seen a rabbit near it.
It’s hard to tell when a sweet everlasting blossom is actually fully opened but the papery bracts that show when the flowers have opened to release their seeds look like small flowers. If you crush a few blossoms and smell them, they smell like maple syrup. I find it growing in sunny, sandy waste areas and on roadsides.
I was really looking forward to seeing the flowers of mugwort (Artemisia vulgaris) and maybe collecting a few seeds but as it turns out, according to a New York Botanical Garden botanist, a deforming fungus is attacking mugworts, so this is all I’ll see of its “sort of” flowers. My thanks go to reader and contributor Sara Rall for help with this conundrum.
I’ve become very interested in this plant because I noticed that after I handled it I started remembering my dreams. That may not seem like a momentous event until I add how since I was a boy, I’ve rarely remembered a dream. This plant was first written about in the third century B.C. and one of the things written about it is how it can affect your dreams. In fact it can help you have very vivid dreams, and I can certainly attest to that fact.
I’m sure many who read this will scoff at a plant being able to affect our dreams, even though the aspirin they take comes from the salicylic acid first found in willow bark and the liniment they use on achy muscles has camphor as an active ingredient, and camphor comes from a tree. And don’t get me started on mushrooms and marijuana. In fact according to what I have read 11 percent of the 252 drugs considered “basic and essential” by the World Health Organization are “exclusively of flowering plant origin.” Codeine, quinine, morphine and many other drugs contain plant derivatives that have been very helpful to mankind.
Most of the phlox blossoms disappeared a while ago but not this one. I like that color.
New England asters are turning in for their winter sleep. Once pollinated they have no need for flowers and are now putting all of their energy into seed production. Most of these flowers were curling in on themselves but you could still see their beautiful color.
This one looked fairly fresh.
What I call the park asters seem to have had trouble getting going this year and are quite late. These plants get about a foot and a half tall but are large and mounded and once they get going are covered with blossoms. They’re very pretty.
In the same park are these dark asters. These plants are upright, about 3 feet tall, and have an entirely different growth habit than the lighter colored ones we just saw. If I were planting a garden of asters this one would be in the back and the lighter colored ones in the front.
Queen Anne’s lace (Daucus carota) is having a re-bloom, as it often does. The flowers are much smaller and not as robust as they are in the first bloom, but they’re still pretty. When freshly cut, Queen Anne’s lace flowers will change color depending on the color of the water in which they are placed, so if you put a bouquet into purple water you’ll have purple Queen Anne’s lace. This plant is also called wild carrot and if you dig up its root and crush it, you’ll find that it smells exactly like a carrot. It should never be eaten unless you are absolutely certain of the plant’s identity however, because it closely resembles some of the most toxic plants known.
Pee Gee hydrangea (Hydrangea paniculata) blossoms are turning into their fall pink and when that is done they will go to brown. Eventually each flower petal will start to disintegrate and for a short time will look like stained glass. If cut at the pink stage however, the color will hold for quite a long time. These huge blossom heads dry well and make excellent dried flower arrangements.
I was hoping to find the rarer orange hawkweed but all I’ve seen is this single yellow one (Hieracium caespitosum.) The buds, stem, and leaves of the plant are all very hairy and the rosette of oval, overlapping leaves at the base of the stem often turn deep purple in winter. The Ancient Greeks believed that hawks drank the sap of this plant to keep their eyesight sharp and so they named it hierax, which means hawk.
An obedient plant (Physostegia virginiana) surprised me by blooming this late. Obedient plants get their common name from the way the stems stay where they are if they are bent; they are “obedient.” I like the flowers, but don’t like having to weed the plants out of just about everywhere. Though it is native to central and southern U.S. it’s a very aggressive plant.
I’m still seeing a few yellow sorrel flowers (Oxalis stricta) and I expect that they’ll probably go for a little while longer. Our first frost usually appears during the third week of September on average, but this year we had freezes overnight 3 nights in a row. It is usually in October that we get freezes, and that finishes the growing season. That means all of the flowers you see here are survivors; the toughest of the lot.
Daisy fleabane (Erigeron annuus) has a very long blooming period. I see them in early June blooming profusely and then sporadically through the following months. I’ve noticed that when it gets cold the small, normally white daisy fleabane blossoms take on a hint of purple. I’ve seen other white flowers do the same, so it isn’t unusual. Many white chrysanthemums for example will turn purple when it gets cold. Fleabanes get their name from the way the dried plants repel fleas.
Purple stemmed beggar’s ticks (Bidens connata) have gone to red; all red, even their leaves. There are nearly 200 species in the genus and many of them look nearly identical. In this part of the state this plant grows side by side with the nodding burr marigold (Bidens Cernua,) which is also called smooth beggar’s ticks. The plant gets its common name from the way its barbed seeds cling to clothing. Books say that it reaches 3 1/2 feet tall but I’ve seen some get close to six feet but they often have a often sprawling habit. I’ve also seen these plants growing in water at the edge of ponds.
Many years ago I gardened for an English lady who introduced me to the Marguerite daisy (Argyranthemum frutescens.) Never had I met a plant that once planted needed less care than this pretty thing. She’d buy them each spring and after a killing freeze they’d end up in the compost pile, which she always had me work very diligently throughout the year. She needed compost for her vegetables of course but also for her daisies, which like a good, well-drained soil high in organic matter. This lady was the person who taught me the concept of “building” the soil and the real value of compost, so I owe her a debt of gratitude. What I learned from her I was able to take to all the other gardens I worked in, and that made for better gardens all over town and made me a better gardener.
Since I’ve seen snow falling on Montauk daisies (Nipponanthemum nipponicum) I wasn’t surprised to find a large plant blooming like it was June. This daisy is a Japanese creation also called the Nippon daisy, and it looks like a Shasta daisy on steroids. It would be an excellent addition to a fall garden.
I saw these flowers in a local park. I have no idea what their name is but they remind me of sunny side up eggs. Cheery little things they were.
The hood shaped upper petal of a monkshood (Aconitum) flower helps to easily identify it. Aconite, which monkshood is, is one of the most poisonous plants known. In fact, some species of aconite are so poisonous that their aconitine toxin can easily be absorbed through the skin while picking their leaves. In 2015 an experienced gardener in the U.K. died of multiple organ failure after weeding and hoeing near aconite plants, so I try to leave it alone. Aconite is also called wolf’s bane, leopard’s bane, Friar’s cap, and Queen of poisons. If you were found growing monkshood (Aconitum napellus) in ancient Rome there was a good chance that you’d be put to death, because the extremely toxic plant was added to the water of one’s enemies to eliminate them.
Monkshood can take a lot of cold and its pretty, unusual blooms appear quite late in the season. Though it blooms in the cold there are insects still flying about, and if they crawl into the hood they’ll find the plant’s treasure. It’s one of the very latest flowers to bloom in this area.
What a desolate place would be a world without a flower! It would be a face without a smile, a feast without a welcome. Are not flowers the stars of the earth, and are not our stars the flowers of the heaven? ~ A.J. Balfour
Thanks for coming by.
I am not surprised by your dreaming experience after handling mugwort plants. I cannot handle foxgloves without experiencing palpitations. Many things are readily absorbed through the skin.
Yes, and if it’s a plant like monkshood it could get very ugly. Sometime people don’t realize what they grow can be dangerous.
Monkshood is a very attractive plant but there’s no way I’ll ever grow it! There has been such a lot of Mugwort here this year; your information about dreams is fascinating! I hardly ever remember my dreams and I’m quite contented to leave it that way. My husband and both my daughters tell me their long convoluted dreams quite regularly and that’s quite enough for me.
That phlox is a beauty!
Thank you Clare. It would be hard not to touch a plant in your own garden wouldn’t it?
I haven’t had any terrible dreams while working with mugwort but they can be vivid. I suppose amplified would be the word. Or stronger.
I could not cope at all with Monkshood in my garden! I would be worried about it all the time.
I have been reading about Mugwort since reading your post. Such a strange plant and I only really started noticing it a couple of years ago!
I’d be worried about it if there were small children around especially. I have touched the plant you saw here without thinking and luckily nothing happened, but I wouldn’t want to make a habit of it!
I’ve never noticed mugwort befor recently, but there is an old Native American tale that says when you need a plant, it will appear. It is a very strange plant that seems to have been used by mankind since the dawn of time, and that’s intriguing to me. I’d like to know much more about it!
If there is a flower to be found, you will find it! That I know. But I am really taken with the mugwort and it’s impact on dreams. What a fascinating outcome. No scoffing here! Yes, I believe that in ‘civilising’ ourselves, we have lost much of our connection with the mystery and wonders of both nature and the divine.
Thank you Cynthia, I agree!
Please look up ‘moxibustion” , an ancient practice which utilizes mugwort. Theres even more amazement to be had learning of this plant’s powers!
Thanks for that Lynne. Interesting reading about a fascinating plant and a new word too!
Always a pleasure to see what is blooming up your way. Your mystery plant is Bidens ‘Spotlight’ – I grew it this summer, lovely in a hanging basket.
Thanks very much Eliza, I wasn’t sure anyone would know what it was!
I found it in a garden bed at a park but I can see it in a hanging basket.
We have had quite a lot of late and secondary flowering this year in the garden because of the unusual weather pattern. I am seeing very few wild flowers about now though.
I’ve seen about the same as usual here, I think. I’d have to look at previous year’s blog posts to be sure.
I’ll see the odd flower here and there probably until November but our growing season has all but ended.
What a fascinating aside about the talents of mugwort! And hope for those of us who retain little evidence of our dreams except tangled blankets and a dim awareness that we had them. I hope the fungus won’t steal the plant entirely. Thank you too for the flower images you found for us, so lovely.
You’re welcome, and thank you Lynne. I haven’t had a problem with mugwort but I’ve heard if you have bad dreams or nightmares it will amplify them as well. Also, I haven’t had any luck with the dried plants, only fresh plants do it for me, but they say the dried plant should work. There’s a ton of information online about it.
Thanks for the informative post. I did not know that Queen Anne’s Lace has a rebloom but I have noticed some of them blooming this late in the year. The Evening Primrose seems to have had a resurgence also.
Thank you Mary, here too. I’m still seeing a lot of evening primrose.
Hmmm, hope you discover what your mystery flower is. Another DYC, huh? The various asters are all so sweet! I do love them. I’ve got 3 colors, all “aster unknownus”. Wow, I knew monkshood was poisonous, but that story makes it plain why you steer clear of it. Thanks for reminding me to cut some hydrangeas while they’re showing off their dusky fall colors. And one day I’ll tell you my hydrangea/preying mantis story. It’s a good one! Stay warm – sounds like you’re getting some right chilly temps now.
Yes Ginny, there are always unknowns!
I like asters too. I’m glad to hear that you grow them.
Monkshood is a plant I treat with respect, and i wear gloves.
I’d like to hear your hydrangea/preying mantis story. I had some hold their color for over a year once.
A lovely assortment, and thank you for the hunt! I love the beautiful whorl on the wild radish bud, am thinking I too should get me some mugwort seeds and from here on out will never handle monkshood as nonchalantly as in the past. We have much orange hawkweed here; I’m surprised to hear it’s rare down your way. Very nice to learn where the name originated.
Thank you Karen. I don’t know if newer cultivated varieties of monkshood are as toxic as the plant once was, but I wear gloves now just to get photos of it.
Better safe than the alternative.
Great!!!
Thanks!
You managed to find a lot of colour still about, thank you for cheering me up. I enjoyed your chosen quote too.
You’re welcome Susan. They’re getting harder to find all the time.