Planning for autumn color (part 3): foliage

Acer Granditatum

In the fall of 2019 I was going to write a post about the importance of selecting trees and shrubs for autumn foliage. The point of the post I was going to write was that in spite of what you may have heard or read, there is nothing absolutely nothing wrong with selecting trees and shrubs for their autumnal color.

Over the years I have read numerous articles that have baldly stated that you should NEVER select trees and shrubs bases solely their potential fall display. The reason being that there are far too many variables beyond the gardener’s control that can greatly affect the quality of the autumn display. A wet and cool summer can delay the change in leaf color by a week or more, whereas a hot and dry summer can cause the change to start weeks earlier than normal.

Cloudy autumn days and how cold the autumn nights get can also change how intense the colors get.

And, of course, a severe storm can roll through can strip the trees bare before they have reached their peak colors.

The only thing that actually is in the gardener’s control is to select trees and shrubs that are genetically hardwired for good fall color, and to plant them in a spot where the conditions are the most conducive for producing said color (i.e. in a sheltered spot that gets plenty of sun).

Rubbish!, said I

I was going to make the argument that such concerns are pure poppycock. After all, spring weather can lay waste to many spring flowers in an instant, but I have never read an article recommending not planting something like a lilac bush, as an example, just because a spring cold snap might destroy its blooms.

I used a lilac bush as an example on purpose. It blooms for about a week and then it is finished for the year. While it’s an reasonably attractive shrub during much of the growing season, when it is not in bloom it turns a proverbial wallflower. It does not have two or more seasons of interest: no berries in the summer, no fall colors in autumn, no architectural interest in winter. So if a spring snowstorm zaps the spring flower display, the show is over.

Oops…

Unfortunately for me, the weather during the autumn of 2019 kind of proved that the conventional wisdom was right. Here in Colorado the month of September was warmer than average, and the heat lingered well into October. Finally, in mid-October, the temperatures fell to more seasonal levels. The trees and shrubs were just beginning to display their autumn finery.

Then disaster struck: an arctic cold front blasted through the eastern part of the state, dropping temperatures down to almost single digits overnight. By the next day the leaves on the trees turned brown and started falling off. Within a couple of days most of the trees and shrubs along the Front Range were completely denuded of their leaves. The show was cancelled for the year

I stand by my contention (with a few provisos)

Ok, so it turns out that there are indeed potential downsides to picking large woody plants based solely on their autumn foliage. Still, I stand by my contention that there is nothing wrong with choosing plants for fall color, just as long as these plants offer multi-seasons of interest.

The term “multi-seasons of interest” refers to a plant that has attributes that make it stand out in two or more seasons. For example, chokeberry trees (aronia) produce a profusion of white flowers in spring, followed by red or black berries in late summer, and then finish out the growing season with an intense autumnal display.

So, when choosing large plants such as trees and shrubs, I still say that it’s alright to pick them based on their autumn display as long as they have other qualities that meet your landscaping needs.

For good autumn color, pay attention to your conditions

I live in a USDA zone 5 (Help | USDA Hardiness Zones) high prairie garden, one that receives less than 18 inches of moisture a year. My soil is also very clayey and leans to the alkaline side of the PH scale. Which means I need to be very selective about which trees and shrubs I plant in my yard. I once had an Amur Maple that is supposed to thrive in Colorado, but succumbed to chlorosis (lack of iron) because my soil is so alkaline it couldn’t readily access the iron in the soil.

Trees and shrubs that grow in in the West all tend to have yellow fall color. Apparently, this is a reaction to the alkaline soils that are so prevalent out here. So finding trees that produce good red or orange fall colors is a bit of a challenge. But they are available.

One further point: when shopping for trees and shrubs for thier autumn color, I would wait until the plants are starting to turn. For one thing, this will give you an idea of the quality of the their fall finery. Plus, nurseries and big-box stores usually put their inventory on sale in late summer and early fall, saving you a great deal of money (the downside of waiting is that the selection may be a bit picked over).

Finally, early autumn is the best time of the year to plant trees and shrubs. The air is cool, yet the soil is still warm. These conditions help reduce transplant shock, and allow the plants to establish roots before the really cold weather arrives.

What works in my landscape

So let’s see what plants provide good fall color in my landscape.

First up, I have two Honeylocust trees in my yard, one in the front and one in the back. While these Honeylocusts certainly don’t have multi-seasons of interest, they do provide plenty of dappled shade, the kind of shade that allows plants underneath them to thrive while still providing relief from the sun for the over-heated gardener. This alone makes them worthy trees.

Honeylocusts are relatively drought tolerant with few pest or disease problems I recommend selecting the thornless variety, as the thorns on Honeylocusts can be quite nasty. If you want to cut down on autumn clean-up, I suggest the seedpod-less varieties as well.

Both honeylocusts turn bright yellow in autumn.

Honeylocust swaying in a crisp autumn breeze

Next up in my Eastern Redbud. This tree is a North American native, and even though it hails from the eastern portion of the continent, it is surprisingly drought tolerant. Its golden-yellow foliage tends to appear a little earlier in the season than the honeylocust.

Eastern Redbud brightening up a stormy autumn afternoon.

My next autumn performer is this ‘Standing Ovation’ serviceberry. This has only been in my landscape for a couple of years, so it is still just pup. This variety of serviceberry grows 12-15 feet tall but only 4 feet wide. It too turns yellow in the fall.

Serviceberry ‘Standing Ovation’

Now to the reds and oranges.

I have two native Bigtooth maples in my yards, also one in the front and one in the back. I think these Big-tooth Maples (acer Granditatum) are my favorite large woody plants. While their flowers are insignificant, they provide year-round architectural interest and the one in the back provides shade for the patio.

Bigtooth maples are a good understory tree, and only get to about 15-25 feet tall. As you can see, their leaves transform into an intense orange color in autumn.

Bigtooth Maple (and no, this picture is not filtered)

This next shrub is called Peking Cotoneaster, and I’ll admit I’m a little conflicted about it. As you can see, it too produces good orange autumn color. Unfortunately, that’s about all it does. It’s flowers are inconspicuous, and while it does set dark blue berries in early fall, the birds consume them so fast that I rarely ever see them.

It also has no architectural interest. In fact, it’s more of a tangled mess, which you can see in the picture below this one. It can reach 10-12 feet tall and wide. I cut back and moved this one to it current location a few years ago because it outgrew its old location. I suppose I could just chop it back to the ground in the spring to keep it in check, but the fact it only is interesting for a week or two in the fall is making me ponder replacing it.

Peking cotoneaster

Below is what this cotoneaster looks like when fully mature. For a couple of weeks out of the year, it truly is glorious!

(If you look on the right side of the picture, about halfway down, you can see a few remaining berries that the birds somehow missed).

A mature Peking cotoneaster

I planted this black chokeberry (aronia ‘Low Scape Mound’) last summer, so it too is just a youngling. But even in its first year in my garden it was already showcasing its bright red autumn finery.

Chokeberry ‘Low Scape Mound’

Below is a Blue Mist Spirea’s. While this spirea (which actually isn’t a spirea at all) is known more for its bright blue flowers that appear in late summer, its foliage also provides some yellow color in autumn. While I certainly wouldn’t call it intense, nevertheless, it is still a beautiful addition to the autumn border.

Yellow leaves on Blue Mist Spirea

Ornamental grasses can also provide good autumn color. Below is ‘Shenandoah’ switchgrass mingling with sedums and a Blue Spruce.

Colorful foliage of switchgrass

Below is a picture that will look familiar to you if you read part 2 of this series. I included it again because this time I want to focus on the colors of the changing foliage instead of the seed heads.

The giant miscanthus is only starting to change to its yellow-tan color, but the grass just to its left (I think it’s a different variety of switchgrass, but I’m really not sure) has turned to a muted orange color. Looks good together, don’t you think?

Ornamental grass autumnal foliage

Perennials can sometimes provide autumn foliage as well. While they cannot possible compete with the enormous display put on by large trees and shrubs, they still can provide an understated addition to the seasonal fireworks.

Here we have the leaves of a plumbago turning a nice russet color in mid-autumn.

Even some Hostas can get into the act. These Hostas that I salvaged last year and put in a whiskey barrel are starting to turn to a buttery yellow color.

The Himalayan Fleeceflower, a tough and drought tolerant ground cover, turns a fiery red in autumn.

Finally:

Do not EVER plant this tree along the Front Range!

There is one tree that should NEVER be planted along the Front Range, and that is the aspen tree. For reasons lost to the mists of time, sometime in the 1980’s people decided to plant aspens down here on the lowlands. I strongly suspect that the tree’s famous fall color was the driving reason why.

Here’s the thing though: aspen trees do not thrive on the prairie. That is the domain of their cousins, the cottonwoods. It is far too hot and dry on the plains for aspens. Even in the mountains aspens predominantly colonize on the cooler and wetter northern and eastern slopes, rather than hotter and drier western and southern faces. Life on the western plains is, for all intents and purposes, one of the rings of hell for this poor tree.

Due to stress they are afflicted with diseases and insect damage, and so their lifespan here along the front range is usually less than 20 years. And while in some years their fall color can be decent, most years they just turn a muddy yellow. The temps start cooling off much earlier in the mountains, and it tends to get much colder at night than here on the plains, creating conditions conducive for their outstanding fall color. Down here in the lowlands, temperatures drop much later and the nights don’t start getting truly cold until almost the end of October, less than optimal conditions for good color.

There are better options.

Image by dvgcreative from Pixabay

Conclusion

Planning for an autumn display in the garden takes a little bit of work, but it’s well worth it. It finishes of the season with a bang, and extends the growing season by several weeks.

One final suggestion: I would recommend clustering your fall blooming perennials together in one location rather than scattering them throughout the garden. This will ensure that your autumn display will stand out in all its glory.

What trees, shrubs or plants would you recommend for an outstanding autumn garden?

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Planning for autumn color (part 2): blooms

In part 2 of my “Planning for autumn color”, I will discuss some of the plants that have succeeded (and a few that haven’t) in providing autumn blooms in my Colorado Front Range garden. In part 1, I discussed why creating an autumn garden was so important to me (see here: Planning for autumn color (Part 1): prologue (mrvintageman.com)).

I know that a post about autumn color when spring has just arrived might seem a little odd. But to have a garden that shines in fall requires some planning and forethought, and spring is the perfect time to do so.

“Monch” asters and blanket flowers, both of which are late summer bloomers, still going strong in early autumn.

When we think of autumn color, I am sure most of us picture in our minds a tree garbed in it’s fall finest. After all, what can compare to a towering plant that reaches 40-70 feet tall all swathed in colors or yellow, red or purple?

Yet, it is when we lower our eyes to ground by our feet that we can discover the more intimate side of the fall display. The color on trees and shrubs can be somewhat fickle and unreliable, some years being underwhelming. This is because the display is wholly dependent on conditions that are beyond the gardener’s control. The autumn bloomers, on the other hand, are reliable old friends who reward us year after year.

Late summer blooms

First, let’s begin with the late summer bloomers that often carry over into early autumn. Peak bloom on these plants is usually several weeks before the autumn equinox, but they often keep going strong (if a little raggedy) into late September, and in some years all the way into early October.

For example, Black-eyed Susan’s usually begin flowering in mid-to-late July in my yard and usually hit their peak sometime in late August. But as you can see below, they often still look good in early fall. In the picture below, taken in early September, the Black-eyed Susan “Goldsturm” is happily blooming among fall flowering Asters.

Yellow Black-eyed Susan’s signal the end of summer, while the deep blue asters herald the arrival of autumn.

Below we find Jupiter’s Beard (centranthus ruber) blooming in mid-September. Jupiter’s Beard is primarily an early to mid-summer bloomer, but will often put on a second display in very late summer, even without deadheading.

Jupiter’s Beard putting in a late summer display.

Finally, we come to Russian Sage, a plant that seems to bloom up to 3 months for me. This picture was taken in early October, but these sages started bloom way back in early July! As you can see, the sage harmonizes quite nicely with the aptly named Sedum ‘Autumn Joy’.

Purple flowers of Russian Sage mingling with Sedum “Autumn Joy” in early October

Now, let’s talk some of my autumn All-Stars:

Asters

Literally all-stars, at least in aster’s case: for aster means ‘star’ in Latin. If there is one flower that is synonymous with autumn, asters must be it. While most states have native asters, the ones from New York and New England tend to get all the PR. For good reason. They are upright and hardy plants who, in the right conditions, can put on a display from very late summer right up until the first hard freeze.

I would say that asters are among my favorite plants, and I have them mixed in with almost every single border in my yarden.

‘Raydon’s Favorite’ aster mingling with ‘Autumn Joy’ Sedum, with Russian Sage provide a backdrop to both.
More ‘Raydon’s Favorite’ growing amongst ‘Powis Castle” artemisia and the faded flowers of yarrow ‘Coronation Gold”.
‘October Skies’ aster put on a fall fireworks finale along with ‘Blue Oat’ grass and fiery reds of a hummingbird mint (Agastache).
‘Purple Dome” aster, a dwarf that only gets to about 18 inches tall, blooms in front of more ‘Autumn Joy’ sedum and the yellowing foliage of “Zebra” maiden grass.

Sedums

Another good fall bloomer in my yard are the upright sedums, such as sedum ‘Autumn Joy and sedum ‘Autumn Fire’.

Upright sedums in my area begin producing green “puffballs” usually in mid-August. The tiny flowers themselves don’t open up until September. These flowers initially start off with a pinkish hue (such as you see below), but as the autumn nights get colder they grow darker and redder.

It’s not just the flowers that provide some autumnal fireworks; if the really deep freezes hold off long enough, the succulent leaves of some upright sedums can turn to a golden yellow color.

Sedums of all heights and varieties are a big hit with pollinating insects.

Sedum ‘Autumn Joy” hosting several winged guests.
Sedums in autumnal glory. Look just behind the sedums and you will see the blooms of a plant called salvia azurea.

Salvia

Look again at the picture above. While the sedums are rightfully the stars of this autumn display, there is a member of the supporting cast that has also taken to the stage. Right behind the sedums is a tall, lanky plant sporting flowers the color of blue autumn skies. This plant is salvia azurea, also known as Prairie Sage.

Prairie Sage is an unassuming plant most of the growing season. But in late summer it puts on quite a growth spurt, when it turns into a lanky plant that like to sprawl all over its neighbors. But that’s alright, for its blue flowers provide a cooling contrast to all the yellows, oranges and reds from the rest of the autumn fireworks.

Chrysanthemums

Another plant that is synonymous with autumn has to be chrysanthemums, or ‘mums’.

I’ll be honest, I haven’t had much success with mums. Oh, I do alright when I pick some up from a local nursery in late summer to put in my outdoor containers. They provide quick and easy fall color. The problem with these mum is that they have been bred and raised to display a profusion of blooms for just a single season. They are not hardy enough to survive the winter, either in the pot or in the ground. I have nursed a few along for year or so, but they eventually disappear.

For a mum that comes back year after year, the gardener needs to plant “hardy” mums. I’ve been put off by these kinds of mums because I have read they require lots of moisture, something sorely lacking in my neck of the woods, as well as lots of TLC.

However, I have researched garden catalogs, and may have found a few that might tolerate the conditions in my garden, so I might give them a try this year. If so, I will provide an update on how they are doing in the fall.

Ornamental grasses

It’s not just flowers that provide blooms in autumn. Ornamental grass “flowers”, known as ‘inflorescences’, add a stately presence to the garden. While inflorescences are rarely colorful (since grasses don’t need bugs or birds to pollinate them), they are still welcome additions to the autumn garden.

Dwarf Miscanthus plumes contrast with the red flowers of ‘Autumn Joy’ sedum and garden mum.
Another, albeit large, Miscanthus putting on a display in the driveway border.

Others

Japanese Anemone is a fall blooming plant that used to do well in my garden. Planted next to the front stoop, it got moisture from the sprinkler system, and enough sunlight to bloom profusely.

Unfortunately (for it), the honeylocust tree in my front yard has grown large enough to block enough light reaching it. I’m going to transplant it somewhere in the backyard later this spring in hopes of reviving it.

My Japanese Anemone last autumn. It’s the large leafed plant in the back. As you can see, it looks a little puny.

Below is a stock photo of what the flower should look like:

Below is a North American native, the Agastache ‘Sonoran Sunrise’. Once it matures it should reach three feet tall and wide, and provide a plethora of purple & orange blooms you see here.

Agastaches are generally very tough and drought tolerant.

Another fall blooming native perennial that does well in my garden is Rabbitbrush. Also known as ‘Chamisa’, it populates open fields throughout much of the American West. I didn’t plant any in my yard, they self-seeded themselves from the nearby fields. I left them because they look awesome mixed in with my other drought tolerant plants.

Here you can see its cheerful yellow flower mingling with Russian Sage, ornamental oregano and ‘Karl Foerster’ ornamental grasses.

Nothing says autumn in the American West quite like a Chamisa in bloom.

Finally, we come to one of my favorite groundcovers, the Plumbago. The cobalt blue flowers appear in late August and usually linger well into October. As an added bonus, the leaves turn bright red and orange as the nights start to cool off.

So there are some of the fall bloomers that have done well in my high prairie Zone 5 garden. In my next post, I will make suggestions on selecting trees and shrubs for colorful autumn foliage, as well as the pros and cons of doing so.

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Planning for autumn color (Part 1): prologue

You’re probably thinking: MrVintageMan, why are you talking about autumn now? Spring has just arrived! Well, that’s the point: to create a autumn tableau in your garden, you need to start working on it now. When spring arrives, most gardeners are desperate for some color after a long and dreary winter. So they stock up on spring bloomers at their local nurseries and big-box stores. And since that is what sells, that is what these stores keep in stock.

If you wait until August or September to start thinking about an autumn garden, your plant purchasing options will be limited to a few varieties asters and mums. And those mums they sell at your local nursery or big-box store will probably not establish in time to survive the winter. (Interestingly, autumn is the perfect time to select and plant trees and shrubs for autumn color. I’ll get to that in the third post of the series).

While my local nurseries have a decent selection of autumnal plants available, I have found that online nurseries provide a much larger variety. And the plants they do offer seem to have quite a bit more pizazz than what I can pick up locally.

However, you do not need to go out of you way to find autumn plants. Some of the asters in my yard came from my local grocer or from the plant section at Walmart, and they have performed admirably for over 10 years. It’s just that their blooms are not quite impressive as the ones you get from more specialized sources.

This post is focused on why I started focusing on creating late season borders in my landscape. LOTS of exposition. In Part 2, I will showcase a few of the autumn blooming plants that have performed well in my yard and neighborhood. Finally, in Part 3 will go over the pros and cons of planting trees and shrubs for a fall foliage show, and show some of the trees and shrubs that provide autumn color in my landscape.

Back in the day

When I began developing my garden, I had a few “must haves” in mind. One of those must haves was to have a garden with more than one season of interest, as opposed to the ornamental gardens of my parent’s generation. Back in the 60s and 70s, the gardening palette of my parents and my friends parents was, to be blunt, pretty limited. Gardens back then seemed to be pretty much limited to roses, junipers and turf.

Oh, there might be some supplemental plants thrown in here and there. My mom had several narrow borders along the fenceline chock full of irises. These little borders looked amazing in May, and boring as hell the rest of the summer.

I think one my friend’s parents grew a few peonies in their back yard. I recall that another friend’s parents had a honeysuckle vine twinning around a pillar on their back porch. As kids we used to pluck the blooms off the vine so we could sip the tiny bit of nectar that they provided.

Roses

Image by congerdesign from Pixabay

I’m not trying to come off as smug or condescending. First off, there is absolutely nothing wrong with a garden composed of nothing but roses and lawn If done right it can look downright fantastic. But to look good they have to be well maintained and manicured. So if you are into roses and turf, and you want a simple (but not easy) garden and are willing to put in the work, then this is the garden for you.

Plus, it’s not like my parents generation had a lot of plants to choose from. Out here in the West, xeriscaping didn’t even become a thing until the late 80s. Even into the 90s, when I myself began to garden, there still weren’t a lot of options at the local nurseries for plants that thrive in the dry and hot conditions that we have here in Colorado. They were only just beginning to expand their plant selection. Back then, to get some of the plants I grow today, I had to special order from mail-order nurseries like High Country Gardens and Prairie Moon Nursery.

Finally, I just want to be clear that I was not one of those people who was passionate about gardening even as a child. No sirree, my youthful years were spent hanging with my friends, football, reading, not doing my homework, comic books and just plain goofing off. My interest in gardening started and ending with eating homegrown tomatoes. So my observations from that time might just be a bit skewed over the intervening decades.

In other words, my memories might not be entirely reliable.

Youthful observations

With that being said, I’m going to go reach into my memory vault to do a little backstory on how and why I ended up putting such an emphasis on autumn gardening. Bear with me a little bit.

For you see, just because I wasn’t into gardening as a youngster doesn’t mean I wasn’t doing gardening. When I was 5 or 6 years old, my Mom would send me out into the yard with a long screwdriver to dig dandelions out of the lawn. (I now strongly suspect that she didn’t really care how many weeds I was able to dig out; she just wanted me out from underfoot).

A few years later I was given the additional task of trimming the edge of the lawn after my Dad got done mowing it. And not with a modern day weedwhacker! Those contraptions were still just ideas floating around the inventors’ mind. No, this job required me to crawl on my hands and knees along the perimeter of the lawn with an old, cheap pair of dull-bladed grass sheers. God, how I hated that job!

Not the grass shears I used as a kid, but very similar

Eventually I graduated to being the primary lawnmower and lawn trimmer (by this time we thankfully had a weedwhacker). Other duties assigned included helping my Dad rake thatch out of the lawn in spring and raking up leaves in the fall; turning over the veggie beds in preparation for planting; and going on tomato hornworm hunt-and-kill missions with my Mom.

Mostly spring and summer gardens

So while gardening may not have been a passion, I was dimly aware of what was going on in the garden. And even as a young ne’er-do-well I noticed, that for all the work my folks put into their ornamental garden, the show was pretty much was finished by July.

That’s because the only plants that were available back then were pretty much limited to spring and early summer bloomers. Unless they happened to grow roses that put out more flowers when they were deadheaded (not all do), or they grew roses that bloomed later in the season, the gardens of my parents generation only provided a display for a few weeks.

(When we moved into the house that I grew up in, there was already a sprawling rose in the back corner of the backyard. This rose was a beast that needed to be trimmed back hard every year lest it devour the whole yard. I don’t think my Mom was very fond of this rose, but I suspect she kept it because it would would it explode with beautiful yellow blooms in mid-August).

When autumn finally arrived

However, even back then I was fully aware that things really began hopping again once autumn arrived. That’s because all the trees in town would seemingly catch fire overnight in colors of yellow, red and purple. Buckeyes, honey-locusts, elms (before Dutch elm disease destroyed them all), maples and more would briefly make every yard in the neighborhood look positively grand.

Budding gardener

So when the gardening bug finally struck me, I determined that my own garden would look interesting for the entire growing season. I did my homework by hitting the books, devoutly watching tv shows such as Gardening by the Yard and Victory Garden, and scouring the internet to find out all I could on ways to make the gardening season last as long as possible.

One of the books that had the most profound impact on me as a gardener was is Allen Lacy’s “The Garden in Autumn”. This book was the one that really opened up to me way in which I make an autumn garden a reality.

It was a game changer.

Next: Part 2 – autumn blooms

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