Rattlesnake Plant

I decided to blog today on a tough-as-nails perennial plant for the benefit of those fellow gardeners who also garden in a hotter-than-heck semi-arid environment like Kansas.  For those of you in dry, rattlesnake-friendly country, Rattlesnake Master (Eryngium yuccifolium) is a problem-free, drought-resistant addition to the garden.  Be aware, however, that despite the common name of this plant, its roots do not heal rattlesnake bites as legend suggests.  I'm a little disappointed about that, myself, because I'd sure like to have a cure available some day when I run across confirmation that rattlesnakes about in my garden as thickly as the books say they should.

 

Rattlesnake Master (also called Button Snakeroot or Button Eryngo) is a Zone 4 hardy plant that, once planted, never needs to be cared for again.  It is listed as a native Kansas wildflower, but I've never seen it growing wild in my immediate vicinity.  I can't remember where I first learned of it, but I do remember that after reading about it, I drove as quickly as possible to my local plant pusher...er...uh....nursery, to ask if they knew where I could get a specimen.  As luck would have it, they had two potted specimens that a client had ordered and then not picked up; two beaten up, neglected plants that didn't appear as if they would survive the first night out of the pot.

But, survive they did and now every year they return to my garden and provide a little novelty to my August border.  The foliage is silver-gray, and the plant is upright and stiff, so it stands out well from surrounding darker green foliage and provides good foliage contrast if you place it right.  Bees and butterflies are attracted to the honey-scented flowers and the plant itself is a host plant for Swallowtail butterflies. It grows about 5 foot tall every year, flowers consistently in late July, and doesn't seem to spread itself around indiscriminately.  Don't listen to everything you read about this plant because some sources are flat out wrong.  I read on Dave'sGarden.com, for instance, that Rattlesnake Master requires consistently moist soil and that I shouldn't let it dry out between waterings.  In reality, I've never given this plant extra water and in our current drought period, the soil around this plant has barely had a molecule of dihydrogen monooxide to spare for a month.  I've also read that handling the plant causes skin irritation, but that particular side effect has only happened to me when I haven't been careful of the spiky leaves.

This member of the carrot family should grow well in the garden of those who like its bluer cousins, the Sea Holly's such as 'Big Blue' (Eryngium zabelli).  Both types of Eryngium grow in my garden, but the white flowers of  Rattlesnake Master stand out more vividly in the August garden. 

Wilting Worries

When the ambient temperatures top out daily over 100 degrees Fahrenheit, even a diligent gardener can miss the important signs of plant stress, but it would be tough to miss the miserable plant suffering that I've seen over the past two weeks here in Kansas.

There are many plants that I believe seldom or never require extra water in my garden, but I've seen my beliefs and plant knowledge tested recently.  Consider the well-established forsythia at the left;  when you drive into the driveway after a work day and you are greeted by this sight, it is a not-so-subtle hint that practically everything in your garden should get a little extra watering.  Even the normally drought-resistant lilacs planted alongside this forsythia were showing signs of stress.  At such times, my general philosophy of never providing extra water to my landscape cedes to my pragmatic side and my water bill begins to skyrocket.

I do expect some degree of damage in this heat from a few of my more pampered beauties.  My witch hazel certainly tends to like its water in bucket-full amounts, as do most of its family members, and I always try to add a little extra water during these tough times to keep it happy.  Witch hazels are seldom seen in landscapes in this area, and for good reason, and I gain a little pride by keeping it alive in my garden.  But sometimes, as you can see pictured at the right, even extra water isn't enough, the leaves drying up in a single day as the ground below it turns to concrete.  I've seen the same thing happen to magnolias in my garden, and I am wandering the garden morning and night with a hose right now to try to prevent disaster.

I can't blame the plants, though, or the Flint Hills climate that tests them. I wilt right alongside them whenever I have to venture out at midday, and I take just as much extra water to keep going while I work in the garden.  I do, however, curse those modern Chicken-Littles/Nanny-State Ninnies who have written that we shouldn't drink out of garden hoses.  It doesn't stop me from doing it, and I don't believe that I have experienced any negative effects from that practice in 50+ years of doing it, but now I think about it almost every time I take a drink of that life-giving fluid.  Please, just leave me alone to drink in peace.