On My List: Planned senescence

It was a coincidence that I started my plant wish list last month with Keystone Plants and it turned out to be mostly late-season wildflowers that were having their moment just then. It’s entirely deliberate that the category I’m tackling next is plants I want to include specifically for fall/winter texture — i.e., for senescence. Senescence is a word I don’t think I’ve ever heard used in a context other than gardening, where I know exactly what it refers to, but I just looked up the dictionary definition out of curiosity: “Noun [biology]: the condition or process of deterioration with age.” Negative connotation as far as the dictionary is concerned, and biology the only context. 

Several years ago, I posted a photo of a beautiful leaf-strewn fall scene on Instagram with the caption “Thankfully nobody ever tried to convince the leaves they should be ashamed of the aging process,” and I do find it fascinating how we worship the aging of leaves while denying the same grace to women. But as much as we admire the trees and their brilliantly colored leaves, I think it’s fair to say that, until recently, we did widely consider the browning of grasses and the arrival of seed heads to be “litter” or “yard waste” that needed to be cut down and swept up, along with the fallen leaves. I say we, the non-specific us, because I never gardened in a place where things really senesced until now. 

When I said before that learning to garden in the San Francisco Bay Area is so easy it’s almost cheating, this is primarily what I’m talking about. Yes, it’s easier to garden there in lots of ways. And to garden anywhere is to be the conductor of a performance. But conducting a garden with true seasons is a far more complex art, as I probably don’t need to tell you. When you’ve got things sprouting, blooming, forming seed heads or pods, dying back — all in different moments and/or colors — it’s a lot to orchestrate.

I’m a huge fan of this late fall moment where the brown grasses are swaying among the seed heads and such, and I want that for my garden — at least until the tiny forest grows in and I can lean into ferns and woodland plants. Someday. I love grasses and have used them as a major component in past gardens (especially where I’ve replaced turf grass with gravel) but have never gotten to have the fall version. And I’m thankful that the rise of meadow gardens, and the environmental gardening movement in particular, has normalized leaving the beautiful dried grasses and seed pods for the benefit of both humans and wildlife. Both because it’s beautiful and because it’s a great way to have fullness, texture and movement in the garden throughout winter — rather than having big gaps in the cold months where everything has died back or been cut down.

I was born with a design brain, but I am also a nerd. I love data and documentation — love researching and plotting and planning a project almost as much as making whatever the thing is. And that’s certainly true of gardening. But this is the first time I’ve felt the urge to make a spreadsheet. Right now, as the plants I’ve so far chosen show me their fall personalities, I’m making a list and coloring it in. I’m watching where the bare patches will be as things die back, and thinking about where there could be beautiful drifts of senescence instead. I’ve already planted lots of ironweed, as you know, and have loads of their amazing seed heads. I’ve got Joe-Pye and goldenrod already on the wish list. The serviceberry is a heart-melting soft orange right now. The birches (bright gold) and viburnums (red-orange) are dazzling me; as are the oakleaf hydrangeas (one intensely red, the other quite muted). What’s really missing is just the grasses to fill among them. So I’ve done my research and noted a few to think about — all indigenous and drought tolerant, and spanning a range of sizes:

1) Large: Big Bluestem (Andropogon gerardii)
There are a few spots where I can potentially use a larger grass, but I want it to be background not focal point — so nothing with super dramatic plumes or brooms. I hear a lot about Little Bluestem and less about Big, but this might be the one where for where I want scale but not showiness. Also considering Switchgrass (Panicum virgatum) or Yellow Prairie Grass/Indian Grass (Sorghastrum nutans).

2) Medium: Little Bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium)
I’m intrigued by Purple Lovegrass (Eragrostis spectabilis) and might use it out front at some point, but given how much purple-flowering late-summer stuff I already have in the mix, it might be too much. Little Bluestem seems to be the most talked about grass around here for good reason — it ticks a lot of boxes — and at 3-4', it’s tall enough to screen out some of my chain link for most of the year.

3) Small: Bristle-Leaf Sedge (Carex eburnea)
When I’m ready to stamp out the turf grass out back and let it be “forest floor,” I’ll want to work in some clumps of small unmown grass. This one, which can tolerate both sun and shade, might be just the thing. Also in contention: Wavy Hair Grass (Deschampsia flexuosa).

If you have a favorite I should consider, by all means let me know!

Leaves pictured up top, clockwise spiral from center: Light orange Amelanchier (serviceberry), crimson Oakleaf ‘Alice’, purplish brown Viburnum Doublefile, golden spicebush, serviceberry again (so pretty!), deep red Viburnum Lentago