Eu-for-weed-ia?

ProfessorRoush woke up to a quandary this morning, a perplexing puzzle presented to him by the morning sunlight.  To wit, the question was whether he should pull the white-headed weed photographed to the right, or should he leave it be in its self-chosen spot, a fine display of green and white contrasts in the hot summer garden?  There is rarely enough color in a summer garden in Kansas and this single, debatably undesired plant (marked in the picture below by the arrow) is the most noticeable plant in the garden this morning, at least from my bedroom window.  Oh sure, there are a few spots of Russian sage around and a panicle hydrangea or three hanging out in the background, but nothing else so clean and white as this Euphorbia marginata, also known as Snow-On-The-Mountain, although I tend to refer to it as "Snow-In-Summer" before I think and correct myself.

What makes a plant a weed?   Some would say a weed is any plant that is in a place where we don't want it.   Others berate the character, the less-cultured characteristics of the plant or flower.  Always the gentleman, Emerson defined a weed as a plant whose virtues have not yet been discovered.  Well, I've discovered the virtues of Euphorbia marginata.   It grows practically on every broken piece of ground in the area, and I've often pulled it before, especially when it was smothering or obscuring a plant that I wanted.   However, in certain places, like this spot where I have nothing else growing at present, I  practice tolerance and acceptance, as I've written before, and I will continue to do so in the future.   Snow-On-The Mountain has virtues, and virtues plenty.

Obviously adapted to my climate and thriving in the hottest and driest portions of summer, welcoming E. marginata into my garden is the very definition of minimal gardening.   It's large enough to make a vivid garden display even in a large garden (the books say 12"-40" tall but most here reach 4 feet and sometimes 5 feet).   It's compact, doesn't spread by sucker, well-mannered for its neighbors, flowers for months and it is beautiful in appearance.  Drought-tolerant, insect-free, disease-free and able to stand up to Kansas winds; exactly what else could I ask of it?   Snow-On-The-Mountain is also easy to pull where it's not wanted, the entire root coming up from any ground that isn't so dry as to actually form concrete.

Okay, I will admit that its milky latex-like sap can cause skin irritation in people with less thick hide than mine, but the only irritation I get is the agitation I experience trying to wipe it off my hands onto my jeans.  Cattle won't graze it because of its bitter taste, and it can be poisonous to them when dried as hay, but I have few cattle wandering my garden and, most importantly, deer won't eat this bitter plant either so it's one less plant I have to worry about when the furry rats raid my garden.   It's not edible, its sap may be carcinogenic, and its medicinal uses are few.   Historically it was crushed and made into a liniment and used as an astringent, and to treat leucorrhoea, which involves putting the liniment somewhere that would seem more likely to cause discomfort than healing wouldn't it?  

I'm not personally expecting a bout of leucorrhoea, but since I should always be prepared (even if I wasn't a Boy Scout), and the plant's presence and it's sap doesn't bother me and the deer won't bother it, I'm resolved to leave this clump right where it started, an affirmation of the value of native plants and a positive sign of my evolution as a gardener.   I'll still pull it from my strawberry patch, however!  

Spiritual Prairie Union

 "The heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament sheweth his handywork." Psalm 19:1.  

If a gardener knows any scripture at all, it should be this phrase.  ProfessorRoush has been witness to the wisdom of this Psalm every morning this past two weeks as I drive past a gorgeous heavenly display of two common prairie forbs sharing the same space, purple Western Ironweed (Vernonia baldwinii) and white and green Snow-On-The-Mountain (Euphorbia marginata).   There are few times when I see such showy native plants so wild, yet so perfectly sited to contrast and enhance each other that I can only stand and marvel, jealous of the Gardener who arranged them in combination.

Western Ironweed

I took the picture above in the worst possible conditions for photography; sun setting behind the subject, light rain on the horizon, dusk settling into the valleys.   And yet the beauty of the prairie shines forth from this chance clumping, this union of the blooms of August each drawing in their late pollinators, offering last seasonal meals in exchange for stirred chromosomes, the dance of wildflower and insect continued in another year.

Snow-On-The-Mountain

Neither of the colorful perennials above are rare on the prairie.   Western Ironweed, so drought tolerant and tall in the heat of summer, is a common pasture weed on the Flint Hills and difficult to eliminate from my garden beds.  This member of the Asteraceae is shunned by cattle for its bitter taste, who thus help it to spread in overgrazed pastures, eliminating its competitors while letting it grow.  Snow-On-The Mountain, a poinsettia relative, is also found here in nearly every disturbed spot of ground, popping up randomly in my garden beds next to grasses and roses, and anywhere else it can find a bit of moisture and sunshine.  In contrast to the ironweed, this euphorbia pulls easily from the ground with bare hands, and although it's bitter, milky sap is said to be as irritating as poison ivy, I seem to be impervious to its toxic nature.

The ubiquity of these wildflowers might suggest that their serendipitous adjacency has occurred by mere statistical chance, but I refuse to tempt disaster by agreeing.  ProfessorRoush, not normally disposed to quote scripture, nonetheless feels here a higher design, a greater Hand in this natural combination.  Maybe you have to be here, at this spot, with the waning sunlight and smell of rain in the air to appreciate this moment.  Better yet the sight is simply spectacular every morning with fresh sunlight and cool breeze and living prairie all around as I drive to work.  All I know for sure is that these two plants, every day, brighten my morning, the gift of living made manifest as my day begins.  And I am thankful for it and for my life shared with the prairie.

Prairie Poinsettia

I'm bad about letting volunteer plants grow at their whim if they look like they might turn out to be something worthwhile, but sometimes it pays to grow a few weeds to help you cheat through the dull days of the garden.

A native Kansas annual that grows everywhere I choose to allow it is Euphorbia marginata, or "Snow-On-The-Mountain."  Look at the single volunteer at the left blooming in late August in front of the bright red crape myrtle Lagerstroemia indica ‘Centennial Spirit’.  Now, I ask you, what better plant combination could you want then this three foot tall spurge growing in front of the five foot tall crape?  I counted across the garden this week and I've got over 20 of these volunteers spread out making bright spots over the beds.  And look at the flower detail in the picture below.  In early September, after a summer's drought and when every other plant has insect or wind damage to half its foliage, look at the crisp, clean margins of these flowers and the white-margined foliage.  Green and white may not be everybody's cup of tea, but surely few would argue against the impact of this plant at a time when little else blooms.  This relative to the poinsettia has a  prolonged bloom period, commonly open from August to October.   As an added benefit, this is not a tough plant to pull out from where you don't want it; it may love xerigardening conditions, but  the taproot slides right out of the soil when you tug the stem.  Just don't get the sap on your hands if you're sensitive.

Snow-On-The-Mountain contains a milky sap that is said to be as irritating as poison ivy on exposed skin.  Since I'm immune to poison ivy (how neat is that for a gardener?) and Snow-On-The-Mountain doesn't bother me either, I can't confirm the comparison.  One reference said that cattle won't graze on it and if E. marginata is dryed along with hay it can cause sickness and death in cattle.  Another says that all parts of the plant are poisonous, so take care with children and don't eat it in your salads. 

Now some, of you, I know, are thinking, wait, I have "Snow On The Mountain," and it doesn't look like that.  Aegopodium podagraria 'Variegatum', is an invasive ground cover that is also known as "Snow On The Mountain" or "Bishop Weed."  It's a variegated perennial, grows well in shade, and doesn't have the milky sap, so you can't confuse the two when you see them .  Just another reason for gardeners to bite the bullet, learn genus/species nomenclature and ask for exactly the plant they want when ordering.  Seeds are available from several select sources, including Jefferson's Monticello, but look especially for a cultivar named 'Summer Ice' if you can find it, because not all the offered plants have the best bright white margination.

Since my native Euphorbia marginata is identical to 'Summer Ice', I guess I'm just one of the lucky ones.