Monarda fistulosa, wild bergamot, is one of the great native perennials of the North American prairie, a hardy, aromatic member of the mint family loved for showy heads of lavender-pink and for a fragrance like oregano crossed with mint. The species grows wild in meadows, prairies, and open woods across most of the continent, and brings both vivid summer color and a deep well of history to the garden.
Myrtus communis, the true myrtle, is a dense evergreen shrub of the Mediterranean, clothed in small, glossy, aromatic leaves and starry white flowers, and few garden plants carry so much history. Sacred to Aphrodite and to her Roman counterpart Venus, myrtle has stood for love, beauty, and marriage since antiquity, woven into bridal wreaths from ancient Greece to Victorian England, and a sprig from Queen Victoria's own bouquet founded a myrtle whose descendants still supply royal wedding flowers today.
Hardiness
Zones 8–11
Light
Full Sun / Part Shade
Height
6–9 ft.
Spread
6–8 ft.
Bloom
White
Plant type
Shrub
Traditional use
respiratory support, topical applications, digestive health
The Nagami kumquat is the easiest citrus most gardeners will ever grow, and the only one meant to be eaten peel and all. Clusters of small, oval, sunset-orange fruit hang against dense, glossy evergreen foliage, each one a burst of contrast: a sweet, tender rind wrapped around bright, tart pulp. Pop them whole for a sweet-and-sour snap, candy the rinds, slice them into a salad, or simmer the winter harvest into jewel-toned marmalade.
Few shrubs carry as much history as the oleander, grown around the Mediterranean and across the warm world since antiquity. The name Nerium traces to the Greek neros, meaning moist or watery, a nod to the streamsides and dry watercourses where oleander naturally takes hold, while the old name oleander seems to braid together olea, the olive, and the leathery, lance-shaped leaves the two plants share. Those dark green leaves stand in tidy whorls of three along long, sparingly branched stems, giving the shrub a poised, upright architecture even out of flower.
Nerium oleander has been grown around the Mediterranean since antiquity, the name Nerium drawn from the Greek neros, watery, for the streamsides where the shrub grows wild. 'Variegata' brings that ancient toughness together with luminous foliage: narrow, leathery leaves edged in creamy white around a deep green center, held in whorls along the stems so the whole shrub seems lightly frosted even when out of flower.
Nerium oleander is among the oldest shrubs in cultivation, grown around the Mediterranean since antiquity and named from the Greek neros, watery, for the streamsides and washes where oleander grows wild. The dark green, leathery, lance-shaped leaves sit in tidy whorls of three along long, sparingly branched stems, lending the shrub a clean, upright presence in every season.
Alabama snow-wreath is one of the Southeast's rarest native shrubs and one of the easiest to grow, a combination that ought to put the plant in far more gardens than it occupies. In spring the arching, thicket-forming branches foam with feathery white flowers, and the trick of them is that there are no petals at all: the show is pure stamen, dozens of white filaments per bloom spraying out against five small greenish sepals, like little bottlebrushes of light along the stems.
Nyssa ogeche, the Ogeechee tupelo, is a medium-sized deciduous tree of the southeastern Coastal Plain, at home from southern South Carolina through the Ogeechee valley of Georgia into northern Florida and Alabama. The genus name honors Nyssa, a water nymph of Greek myth, and the tree lives up to the name, thriving along creeks, river swamps, and seasonally flooded bottoms where the soil stays acidic and wet.
Few plants light a shaded corner the way firespike does. Odontonema strictum raises erect spikes of slender, tubular, scarlet flowers to a foot long from late summer into winter, each spike a torch held above dark, glossy, quilted foliage. The genus name pairs the Greek odous, a tooth, with nema, a thread, for the toothed filaments inside the bloom, and the plant answers to a tangle of common names, firespike, cardinal's guard, and firestick among them, though firespike is the one that sticks.
Sundrops make a gentle joke of their family. Oenothera fruticosa ssp. glauca belongs to the evening primroses, a tribe famous for opening at dusk and closing by mid-morning, yet the sundrops break ranks and bloom by day, holding cups of clear, satiny yellow wide open through the sunlit hours of late spring and early summer. The genus name comes from the Greek oinos, wine, and thera, to hunt or seek, an old and disputed reference to a European relative whose roots were once thought to give a taste for wine; the epithet fruticosa means shrubby, for the firm, upright stems, and glauca notes the blue-green bloom on the foliage.
Devilwood earns the odd name honestly. Osmanthus americanus carries a wood so cross-grained and stubborn that early woodworkers swore the timber was possessed, and the name has stuck for centuries, a small piece of American folklore hung on an otherwise gracious plant. The leaves are leathery, elliptical, and smooth-margined, a deep glossy green without the spines that arm so many tea olives, and they build into a dense, rounded evergreen of fifteen to twenty-five feet, handsome as screen, understory, or small tree.
Some plants are grown for the eye and some for the nose, and sweet osmanthus belongs wholly to the second camp. The very name tells the story: Osmanthus joins the Greek osme, a scent, with anthos, a flower, and fragrans doubles down, so the botanical name reads almost as fragrant fragrant-flower. The blooms themselves are tiny, waxy, and creamy white, tucked so far back among the leaves that a passerby often smells the plant long before finding the flowers, a warm apricot-and-honey perfume that carries across a whole garden on a mild autumn day.
For all the sweet osmanthus grown across the South, most carry the same tiny white flowers, so 'Conger Yellow' arrives as a quiet surprise: a clone bearing clusters of soft, butter-yellow blooms against notably large, glossy leaves. The flowers keep the family gift, that warm apricot-and-honey perfume that drifts on autumn air and, in mild climates, returns in scattered flushes through much of the year, strongest as evening cools.
'Fudingzhu' turns the usual tea olive up a notch. Where most sweet osmanthus scatter a modest few flowers among the leaves, this selection smothers itself in dense, bead-like clusters of small, creamy-white blooms, so freely and for so long that the name is said to mean pearls upon the Buddha's head, for the way the pale flowers crown the plant. The scent is the pure osmanthus perfume, a rich sweetness of ripe apricot and peach that carries on the evening air.
The orange sweet olive is the tea olive at full volume. Where the common form carries tiny white flowers, Osmanthus fragrans f. aurantiacus bears clusters of deep yellow to burnt orange, and the color comes with an even richer scent, a heady sweetness of ripe apricot and peach that fills a garden on a still autumn afternoon. The blooms open in one great, concentrated flush, brief at perhaps a week or two, but so heavy that the whole plant seems to smoke with fragrance while it lasts.
Osmanthus x fortunei 'Natchez' is a hybrid that takes the best of two parents. The cross joins Osmanthus fragrans, the sweet olive treasured for its perfume, with Osmanthus heterophyllus, the false holly valued for tough, spiny, evergreen foliage, and 'Natchez' inherits both gifts: a dense, glossy, holly-leaved frame and a flood of fragrance in fall. The hybrid takes the name of the old river town of Natchez, Mississippi, a nod to the Deep South gardens where these tea olives have long been at home.
Osmanthus x fortunei 'San Jose' is a large, upright member of Fortune's tea olive, the garden hybrid that crosses the false holly, Osmanthus heterophyllus, with the sweet olive, Osmanthus fragrans. Among the fortunei clones, 'San Jose' stands apart for thinner, more finely toothed leaves and a taller, more upright habit, a plant that reaches for height where others spread.
Osteomeles schweriniae, the bone apple, is a refined evergreen shrub in the rose family, close kin to hawthorn, cotoneaster, and photinia, and a botanical rarity seldom seen in American gardens. The genus name joins the Greek osteon, bone, and melon, apple, a nod to the stony hardness of the little fruits, while the species epithet honors the German dendrologist Count Fritz von Schwerin. Native to the dry valleys and open slopes of Yunnan and western Sichuan in southwestern China, the shrub carries very small, ferny, pinnate leaves along dense, wiry, arching stems, giving a fine texture unusual among broadleaf evergreens.
Oxydendrum arboreum, the sourwood, is one of the loveliest and most distinctive trees of the Eastern American woods, and among the very last to flower each year. The name tells the story twice over: Oxydendrum joins the Greek oxys, sour or sharp, and dendron, tree, while the common name echoes the same tang, for the leaves, twigs, and bark all taste sourly of oxalic acid when chewed. A member of the heath family alongside azaleas, rhododendrons, and blueberries, sourwood stands alone as the sole species in the genus, native to well-drained, acid woodland soils from southern Pennsylvania to the Florida panhandle and west toward Louisiana, most abundant in the lower Appalachians.
Hardiness
Zones 5–9
Light
Full Sun / Part Shade
Height
30–50 ft.
Spread
15–25 ft.
Bloom
White
Plant type
Tree
Traditional use
digestive health, respiratory support, general wellness
Few native plants look as improbable as the maypop. Passiflora incarnata, the wild passionflower of the American Southeast, opens intricate three-inch flowers of pale lavender and white, each ringed with a fringed corona of wavy filaments above a central column of stamens and styles. Spanish missionaries read the whole Passion of Christ into that structure, the corona for the crown of thorns, the five anthers for the wounds, the three styles for the nails, and gave the genus its devotional name. Common along field edges and roadsides from Virginia to Florida and west to Texas, the vine climbs by curling tendrils or sprawls across open ground.
Hardiness
Zones 7–10
Light
Full Sun / Part Shade
Height
10–25 ft.
Spread
6–10 ft.
Bloom
Purple
Plant type
Vine
Traditional use
mental & emotional well-being, digestive health, reproductive health
