Wildflowers
The last month or three have seen my attention captured by as many wildflowers as their domestic cousins. They intrude into my field of vision with bright colors and unexpected apperances that both delight and amaze me. In many areas I couldn't hope to plant them as beautifully as they are this year with the abundant rain we have had in the valley. The wild cousins of many of our domestic flowers came from somewhere, some time ago. Lilacs grow wild across parts of Asia and our modern apples and flowering crabapples have roots deep in the antiquity of Central Asia. Generations and centuries of plant breeding have produced the assorted blooms we see today.
Gaillardia, G. aristata, in its many varieties started out in the prairies of the Midwest and northern Rocky Mountains. Lending itself towards domesticity today there are a number of varieties from nearly pure yellow to burgundy.
Other wildflowers don’t lend themselves so readily to molding by the hand of man and are quite insistent they want to remain wild and untamed, spreading across the landscape of western Montana of their own accord without the interference of human gardeners. The Arrow-leaf Balsamroot (Balsamorhiza sagittata) are in full bloom now, gorgeous beyond what any gardener could imagine doing with them. Even with my many attempts at seeding they rarely produce new plants. They require specific condition to get them going, although that hardly seems possible given how many of them there are, or seem to be. Try transplanting even a small seedling into a garden and see how difficult it is. The long tap root doesn’t like to be disturbed even if it started out life in a pot. This large plant appeared by chance at the edge of the path at the bottom of David and Nancy’s hill where it simply sits and shows off. When the bright yellow flowers disappear the silvery leaves and robust shape take over the display.
Indian Paint Brush (Castilleja spp.) seems to follow this pattern too, content to spread across the hills and dry forests but determinedly avoiding domestication. More difficult to transplant or cultivate than Balsamroot and demanding more stringent soil requirements, this one ended up inside Linda’s fence but well hidden from the rest of the garden. I found it only by chance.
Not quite as common as the brilliant yellow Balsamroot is the abundant (this year) Death Camas, or Zigadenus venenosus. Hiding like a delicate treasure in grasses its own height the creamy white blooms show up to taunt, or tempt, from a distance. Reportedly it causes animal deaths, and a number of human deaths have been reported as well.
Blue flax (Linum lewisii) is often introduced to semi-wild dry garden areas although it does show up on its own occasionally. It has become a favorite in many dry gardens because it takes care of itself, re-seeds reasonably well but is not invasive and has a beautiful floral display. My camera loves the nearly flat flowers with just enough interesting variation in color to catch its “eye.” The darker blue of Larkspur (Delphinium bicolor) is evident in the same grassland areas as these others, but its darker blue and smaller size make it somewhat less visible.
Blue Sugar Bowls (Clematis hirsutissima) are less frequently spotted. The plants resemble the native Pusitilla or Pasque Flower but the small nodding and quite fuzzy flowers resemble its larger cousins, the trailing Clematis.
In a natural area in the western part of the Missoula valley hiding among the grass in small short clumps I found the native phlox, Phlox hoodii. This may be a variety unique to the Missoula valley. Near it I found the yellow flowers of Biscuit Root (Lomatium triternatum), a source of food for many Native Americans groups in the Northwest. I'm not sure I'd put it in a garden, the flowers are not particularly showy, but is has an interesting history with people. Prairie Smoke, (Geum triflorum) inhabits the same area, and seems to acclimate itself well to gardens everywhere and isn’t too fussy about anything – germinating, spreading, water, soil quality, transplanting and so on. While the flowers are attractive they aren’t especially showy. The real display, which gives the plant is name, is after the flowers are gone and the seed heads appear, looking like small wisps of smoke against the grass.
The last month or three have seen my attention captured by as many wildflowers as their domestic cousins. They intrude into my field of vision with bright colors and unexpected apperances that both delight and amaze me. In many areas I couldn't hope to plant them as beautifully as they are this year with the abundant rain we have had in the valley. The wild cousins of many of our domestic flowers came from somewhere, some time ago. Lilacs grow wild across parts of Asia and our modern apples and flowering crabapples have roots deep in the antiquity of Central Asia. Generations and centuries of plant breeding have produced the assorted blooms we see today.
Gaillardia, G. aristata, in its many varieties started out in the prairies of the Midwest and northern Rocky Mountains. Lending itself towards domesticity today there are a number of varieties from nearly pure yellow to burgundy.
Other wildflowers don’t lend themselves so readily to molding by the hand of man and are quite insistent they want to remain wild and untamed, spreading across the landscape of western Montana of their own accord without the interference of human gardeners. The Arrow-leaf Balsamroot (Balsamorhiza sagittata) are in full bloom now, gorgeous beyond what any gardener could imagine doing with them. Even with my many attempts at seeding they rarely produce new plants. They require specific condition to get them going, although that hardly seems possible given how many of them there are, or seem to be. Try transplanting even a small seedling into a garden and see how difficult it is. The long tap root doesn’t like to be disturbed even if it started out life in a pot. This large plant appeared by chance at the edge of the path at the bottom of David and Nancy’s hill where it simply sits and shows off. When the bright yellow flowers disappear the silvery leaves and robust shape take over the display.
Indian Paint Brush (Castilleja spp.) seems to follow this pattern too, content to spread across the hills and dry forests but determinedly avoiding domestication. More difficult to transplant or cultivate than Balsamroot and demanding more stringent soil requirements, this one ended up inside Linda’s fence but well hidden from the rest of the garden. I found it only by chance.
Not quite as common as the brilliant yellow Balsamroot is the abundant (this year) Death Camas, or Zigadenus venenosus. Hiding like a delicate treasure in grasses its own height the creamy white blooms show up to taunt, or tempt, from a distance. Reportedly it causes animal deaths, and a number of human deaths have been reported as well.
Blue flax (Linum lewisii) is often introduced to semi-wild dry garden areas although it does show up on its own occasionally. It has become a favorite in many dry gardens because it takes care of itself, re-seeds reasonably well but is not invasive and has a beautiful floral display. My camera loves the nearly flat flowers with just enough interesting variation in color to catch its “eye.” The darker blue of Larkspur (Delphinium bicolor) is evident in the same grassland areas as these others, but its darker blue and smaller size make it somewhat less visible.
Blue Sugar Bowls (Clematis hirsutissima) are less frequently spotted. The plants resemble the native Pusitilla or Pasque Flower but the small nodding and quite fuzzy flowers resemble its larger cousins, the trailing Clematis.
In a natural area in the western part of the Missoula valley hiding among the grass in small short clumps I found the native phlox, Phlox hoodii. This may be a variety unique to the Missoula valley. Near it I found the yellow flowers of Biscuit Root (Lomatium triternatum), a source of food for many Native Americans groups in the Northwest. I'm not sure I'd put it in a garden, the flowers are not particularly showy, but is has an interesting history with people. Prairie Smoke, (Geum triflorum) inhabits the same area, and seems to acclimate itself well to gardens everywhere and isn’t too fussy about anything – germinating, spreading, water, soil quality, transplanting and so on. While the flowers are attractive they aren’t especially showy. The real display, which gives the plant is name, is after the flowers are gone and the seed heads appear, looking like small wisps of smoke against the grass.
Chokecherries, Hawthorne and Serviceberry are also blooming now, their clusters of white blooms resembling late clumps of snow at the tips of their branches, or a shower of fireworks against the green background of the forest. 
As the season progresses and we pass through summer and into autumn I will continue to keep an eye out for the natives that opportunistically intrude into the lives of the gardens under my care. If you don’t have access to all of these gardens, as I fortunately do, take a walk along the river on the Kim Williams Trail or up the trail on Waterworks Hill and look for the flowers there. If you can’t make it that far many of the flowers can be seen in bloom in the Waterwise Garden behind the Missoulian on South Fourth St. East, or on the restored grassland area going down to the river and Kim Williams Trail.
As the season progresses and we pass through summer and into autumn I will continue to keep an eye out for the natives that opportunistically intrude into the lives of the gardens under my care. If you don’t have access to all of these gardens, as I fortunately do, take a walk along the river on the Kim Williams Trail or up the trail on Waterworks Hill and look for the flowers there. If you can’t make it that far many of the flowers can be seen in bloom in the Waterwise Garden behind the Missoulian on South Fourth St. East, or on the restored grassland area going down to the river and Kim Williams Trail.
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