Maximum Sunflower Power

 Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, dogs and bees, I give you the crowning glory of the Kansas fall prairie, the Maximilian Sunflower (Helianthus maximiliani).   On the prairie near me right now, one can see lots of yellow flowers blooming, foremost being the light-yellow green of the native goldenrods, but nothing outshines or is taller than the Maximilian sunflowers.   Standing out hundreds of feet away, each clump betrays the location of a site of disturbed earth, the sunflower a sure marker of soil chaos.   Bees and humans alike are drawn to it, the screaming color calling across the ocean of drying prairie grasses.

This clump came up near my burn pile.   There's a smaller group in the middle of the unmown area of the back yard (my so-called "rain garden"), but it is this plant at the back edge of the garden that begs for attention.  And, as you can see above, it got attention from this very busy bee photobombing the flower.  It also got attention from Mrs. ProfessorRoush, who posed with it for me, but I will not share the beauty of the former in this blog, Internet privacy and all being what it is.  I found it interesting that the sunflower and Mrs. ProfessorRoush are almost identical in height, 5 feet tall or so.

The bumblebee that attacked these members of the Aster family was fortuitous for my camera, arriving just as I moved in to photograph the flower closely.  In a month these flowers will be bountiful seedheads, full of energy and a good forage crop for livestock and deer.  

You can see here what I mean about the goldenrod.  I'm not good enough at quick identification to tell you if this is Prairie Goldenrod or Canada Goldenrod or another species, but this is as yellow as it gets and the brightness fades quickly like the plants in the background here.  

Between the bad press given to goldenrod, and the happy beaming face of the Maximilian Sunflower, I've got to choose the sunflower every time.   And so, it seems do the bees.  The only insect I've ever seen on goldenrod around here are the goldenrod soldier beetles.

What Took You So Long?

Helianthus 'Lemon Yellow'

All summer I've been anxiously awaiting signs of life from a pair of related plants that I planted last Fall.  Seduced last year by the high prose and beautiful photography of High Country Gardens into purchasing  and planting a pair of Helianthus maximilliana cultivars, I watched anxiously in Spring for the return of their foliage.  When they finally came up, planted as they were in my "native" wildflower area, which gets no extra water at all, I then spent the summer worrying that my single specimen of each would be cut down by some dastardly grasshopper, broken over by a rampaging dog, or that they just wouldn't make it through the heat and drought of this past summer.  But all summer, they grew, slowly and, to me, in an agonizing fashion, but they did grow, to their current four feet or so in height.  I was tempted several times to provide them a little extra water, but I'm proud to say that I practiced tough love gardening.

I expected them to bloom in late July or early August, but they never did.   I think that was all my mistake, assuming wrongly that most flowering plants stop developing buds here by October except for the asters and an occasional rose that tries to open in December. Recently however, as the leaves on decidious trees are changing color, the burning bush euonymous is already aflame, and the nights are approaching the low 40's, I noticed buds on both.  Buds which recently broke open for me like a heaven-sent promise that Summer will return next year.  

Helianthus 'Sante Fe'

My two Helianthus maximiliana  cultivars are ‘Lemon Yellow’  (pictured above right with its insect stowaway) and 'Sante Fe' (pictured at left).  'Lemon Yellow' is supposedly the daintier of the two, said to grow into a mature clump three feet by three feet, although vegatively, I still can't tell my two cultivars apart and both are at four feet tall with single stems at present.  High Country Gardens states that 'Lemon Yellow' "grows easily in hot, full sun locations."  Based on my experience with it this summer, I might not agree that it grows "easily," but it did survive the worse drought year I've seen here.

Maximillian Sunflower 'Santa Fe' should eventually grow to be an 8 foot tall and 4 foot wide clump, a warning to me that I've got it planted in the wrong place at present, but if it continues to survive, I can always divide and move it.  It blooms with large golden-yellow flowers as pictured, and the flowers seem to open from top to bottom on the single stem that I've got at present.  According to the High Country Gardens website, it is hardy to Zone 4 and should grow well in "any soil including heavy clay."  I can only hope that broad statement includes my limey-stony-clay soil.

Given time and a few years, I hope that both H. maximiliana clumps eventually become mainstays in the tall backs of my borders, fighting it out with the Miscanthus sp. to see who drapes over whom.  With the late bloom, however, I'm a little worried that an early frost might occasionally allow me only to enjoy the foliage however. This is my first attempt with this genus, although I've long grown a similarly tall False Sunflower, or Heliopsis helianthoides, which grows well for me and which I've divided several times over in my peony bed.  Now with the new Maximilian Sunflowers looking to make a stand, I guess I'd better prepare to have a much more yellow Fall garden than I've had in the past.  The only question is, do I want that much yellow?  Even in Kansas, one can overdo the sunflowers.