Two things the common names get wrong: it is not Chinese, and it is not a maple. Abutilon pictum comes from the warm river country of southern Brazil and its neighbors, Argentina, Paraguay, and Uruguay, and the maple lives only in the leaves, which are lobed and toothed enough to have fooled people into "flowering maple." It belongs instead to the mallow family, in good company with hibiscus, hollyhock, okra, and cotton, and it carries that resemblance in every five-petaled bloom.
Call it a flowering maple if you like, but there is not a drop of maple in it. Abutilon pictum belongs to the mallow family, alongside hibiscus, hollyhock, okra, and cotton, and only the lobed, maple-shaped leaves account for the nickname. What the leaves of 'Souvenir de Bonn' actually do is carry a wide, irregular margin of cream around their green, a variegation bold enough to earn the plant its place on looks alone. The flowers settle the matter. All season they dangle from the branches like small paper lanterns, apricot to salmon, each bell veined through with crimson, swinging on thin stalks where the hummingbirds find them. 'Souvenir de Bonn' is among the oldest abutilons still in gardens, a parlor plant out of the conservatory age, when a variegated flowering maple was the sort of thing one kept in a bright room through winter and carried out to the terrace each summer. The species hails from Brazil; the cultivar name is a keepsake of Bonn, a souvenir that outlasted whoever first carried it home. They are tender, frost being their one real enemy, and in our climate they may sail through a mild winter outdoors or die to the ground and return from the root. Either way they earn their keep, blooming spring to frost and beyond, asking only for sun, rich soil, and water enough to keep the show going. Set them where you pass close, on a patio or against a warm wall, where the lanterns can be read at eye level.
The southern maidenhair has a way of choosing impossible places. Look for this fern on a shaded limestone bluff where water seeps through the rock, or in the spray zone of a spring-fed creek, and you will likely find the fronds growing sideways out of a crevice as if that were the most natural thing in the world. The wiry black stems hold up fan-shaped pinnules so thin they seem almost translucent in morning light, and the whole plant trembles at the slightest breath of air. Few native ferns carry this much delicacy with so little fuss.
Maidenhairs take their English name from their stems, those fine black wiry stalks like strands of dark hair, and their Latin name from a quieter trick. Adiantum comes from the Greek adiantos, the unwetted one, because water will not cling to the fronds. Hold a maidenhair under a running tap and the frond comes out dry, the droplets beading and rolling off a surface built to refuse them. That is the sort of small marvel ferns keep to themselves until you go looking. This particular maidenhair breaks the family mold in one telling way. Where the rest are a byword for fragility, all lace and apology, the rosy maidenhair is faintly hairy and unbothered. Run a fingertip up the stipe and you will feel the bristles that named the fern: hispidulum, minutely hairy, set down by the Swedish botanist Olof Swartz in 1802.
In July, when most of the shade garden has settled into a holding pattern of foliage and waiting, Aesculus parviflora opens for business. The timing is the first surprise. The flowers are the second. Each panicle is a foot or more of tightly packed white tubular blooms with conspicuous pink-red anthers projecting beyond the petals, the whole spike held upright above the foliage like something assembled by a botanical committee that could not decide between elegant and extravagant and chose both. A mature colony in full bloom in midsummer is among the more spectacular events available to the shade gardener, and the hummingbirds and swallowtails arrive reliably.
A small, bright green agave with a clean white stripe down the center of each short, broad, toothed leaf, Agave lophantha 'Splendida' is a compact, clumping selection of a species native to South Texas and Mexico. The variegated rosettes stay neat and low, a jewel-box agave for a trough, a container, or the front of a hot, sunny bed.
The tung oil tree is a handsome medium-sized deciduous tree, broad and spreading, with large heart-shaped to lobed leaves up to ten inches across and showy panicles of white flowers, blushed pink and orange at the throat, that open in spring before or with the new foliage. Few flowering trees of the Deep South make a fuller spring show.
Amorpha fruticosa, the false indigo bush, is the largest and most widespread of the native false indigos, a fast, open, deciduous shrub that carries long spires of tiny deep blue-purple flowers, each lit with a single vivid orange anther, at the branch tips in late spring and early summer. From a suckering base rise arching stems six to twelve feet tall, clothed in soft, ferny, pinnate leaves that give off a clean, resinous scent when crushed. In full bloom the whole shrub seems to smoke with color, and the flower spikes hum with bees.
Hardiness
Zones 4–9
Light
Full Sun / Part Shade
Height
6–12 ft.
Spread
6–12 ft.
Bloom
Purple
Plant type
Shrub
Traditional use
digestive health, general wellness, pain relief, topical applications
Ampelaster carolinianus is a woody, scrambling, semi-evergreen vine that climbs through shrubs and over stream banks along the coastal plain of the southeastern United States, opening lavender-blue flowers in November and December when every other aster has long since finished. The climbing aster keeps a private schedule, and that contrary timing is the whole charm.
Madeira vine is a fast, twining, deciduous climber with fleshy, heart-shaped leaves and sprays of tiny, fragrant cream-white flowers in late summer and fall. Anredera cordifolia climbs by winding tuberous stems, and a warty crop of aerial tubers along the stems, some as large as a small potato, is the surest mark of the plant and a ready means of increase.
Hardiness
Zones 7–9
Light
Full Sun / Part Shade
Height
10–20 ft.
Spread
6–10 ft.
Bloom
White
Plant type
Vine
Traditional use
topical applications, reproductive health, general wellness
The pawpaw is a small, tropical-looking deciduous tree with large, drooping leaves and the largest edible fruit native to this country. In mid to late summer the green, mango-shaped fruit softens to a fragrant custard, banana and mango in one, around rows of big dark seeds, relished by people and raccoons alike. The crushed leaves carry a distinctive odor, and the whole tree reads more like the tropics than a temperate woodland.
A compact cast iron plant from Vietnam, Aspidistra vietnamensis 'Amanogawa' carries narrow, deep green, upright blades scattered with small creamy white spots, as if dusted with stars. The cultivar name, Japanese for the Milky Way, fits the effect exactly, and the speckled foliage brings light and pattern to a shaded bed where plain green would simply recede.
Most asters have quit by the time Tatarian aster gets started. Aster tataricus opens in late September and keeps going through October and into November, still looking fresh at the first frost, on stems that stand five or six feet without a stake. The flowers are small, barely an inch across, lavender-blue with a yellow eye, but they arrive in flat-topped clusters by the hundred, and at that height they read as a haze of color at eye level rather than a mound down at your knees.
There is a strange romance buried in this plant's history, and 'Golden King' sits on the male side of it. Aucuba japonica reached England in 1783 as a single female, the yellow-flecked gold dust shrub that Victorians went on to plant by the thousand. Aucuba carry their sexes on separate plants, and for eighty years every aucuba in the country was a clone of that one female, waiting on the famous red berries that never came, because Japan had sealed its borders and no male could be had.
There is a book about Aucuba japonica called A Virgin for Eighty Years, which sounds like a romance novel and is, instead, one of the strangest stories in horticulture. The species arrived in England in 1783 as a single female plant. Aucuba is dioecious, male and female flowers on separate plants, so for the next eighty years every aucuba in English gardens was a clone of that one original female. Gardeners knew the plant was meant to bear bright red berries, since reports came back from Japan, but Japan had closed its borders, no male could be had, and they simply waited.
A rare, semi-evergreen shrub, Baccharis dioica resembles the common groundsel bush, Baccharis halimifolia, but is quite distinct. In 1979, just before Hurricane Frederic did tremendous damage to the Mobile, Alabama area, we found this plant growing behind the dunes on Dauphin Island.
Buddleia davidii 'Attraction' is a more compact butterfly bush than the usual run of the species, forming a rounded shrub of arching branches lined with gray-green leaves. From summer into fall, royal red, fragrant flowers gather in nodding panicles six to ten inches long, drawing butterflies and bees in profusion.
'Lochinch' is one of the most refined of the butterfly bushes, a cross of Buddleia davidii and the silvery Buddleia fallowiana that takes the best of both: dense, fragrant panicles of soft lavender-blue, each tiny flower lit by a small orange eye, over handsome gray-green, almost silver foliage. Compact and rounded, the shrub blooms all summer into fall on the new growth.
'Miss Ruby' is the butterfly bush that finally cracked the color barrier: a striking, near-sterile hybrid of Buddleia davidii and Buddleia globosa carrying racemes of bright, purplish pink, a magenta few other butterfly bushes can touch. The shrub was bred by Dr. Dennis Werner at the JC Raulston Arboretum in Raleigh, North Carolina, the source of our cuttings.
Endemic to the mountain scrub of Madagascar, where the plant scrambles along slopes between two and six thousand feet, Buddleja madagascariensis throws out long arching canes that will climb to ten feet given a wall to lean on. The flowers come in late winter and spring on terminal panicles up to ten inches long, opening deep yellow and aging through orange to soft pink along the same spike, all of it carrying a honeyed fragrance strong enough to scent a courtyard. The leaves are narrowly ovate, dark green above, silvery and felted beneath, so the whole shrub seems to flicker when wind moves through the canes.
