Exotica
In gardening, “exotic” has a narrow meaning. A plant native to the Alps growing in Philadelphia, or a eucalyptus in Palo Alto, is an “exotic.” An exotic comes from afar, it is native elsewhere.
There’s no suggestion in the word that the plant looks unusual or bizarre. It usually doesn’t. For example, the Cape daisy, from South Africa, a terrific, long-blooming perennial, looks like--a daisy (except for its metallic-purple center).
Exotics are prized. Thomas Jefferson lamented the way Americans, hundreds of year after the first colonists settled in New England, still ignored the beauty of native plants and instead favored plants imported from Europe. Later, A. J. Downing , who was the first prominent landscape gardener and horticulturist of the U.S., also lamented the dearth of native plants in American gardens.
Downing could visit us by time machine today and say much the same thing about our gardens. (In spite of our active societies for native plants and many books about gardening with native plants.)
How many natives do we grow? On my own, I can list only a few, like dogwoods and deciduous hollies, viburnums, black walnut, ashes, willows, mayapple, bloodroot, coneflower, black-eyed Susan, sunflower. I know there are more.
But we still favor exotics. Take clematis. Take the Himalayan poppy, which has truly blue flowers. This makes the plant a kind of trophy and many gardeners labor to alter the growing condition of their location so the plant will thrive and bloom far from home.
The idea of exotic goes beyond plants. Here in Iowa, where the prairie soils run deep, rocks are rare, bedrock is buried, and boulders are collectibles. On a drive around Des Moines or the countryside, you will see big rocks and boulders enshrined as trophies in landscapes and gardens. Backyards have patios paved with the red sandstone from Colorado. Slabs of limestone from Indiana build retaining walls.
In the southwestern U.S. a patch of Bermuda grass is an exotic and many of the retirees who have moved to New Mexico and Arizona for the sunshine insist on maintaining a green remnant of the rainier states they left behind. This is nostalgia, tradition, and the lure of the exotic, all combined.
There’s a traffic circle on my street where two residential roads cross. In the center is a neighborhood garden and in the center of the garden is a large boulder, big enough for kids to climb and perch on to look down on the doings around them. It’s like a meteorite; it’s origin is unknown.
A little farther up the street is a pedestrian bridge over the highway. Long-time residents of the neighborhood say the boulder used to sit at one end of the bridge. The highway department tore down the bridge a few years and built a new one from concrete, steel arches and suspension cable. It’s elegant. Apparently the boulder became an eyesore, at least to the highway department. When a giant earthmover showed up to lift the boulder and take it away the neighborhood rallied and demanded that the boulder stay put. As a compromise the crew moved the boulder to the traffic circle.
So the neighborhood has bragging rights to one of the biggest, maybe the biggest, exotic trophy boulder in town. We’ve planted a garden in the circle, replacing mangy turf, and the boulder is the centerpiece. It might not even be exotic anymore.
Does the idea of “exotic” apply to gardening in your neighborhood? If not boulders and plants from Australia, what is so exotic that your fellow gardeners bring it into their gardens? Plants come to mind first, but it could be materials or garden styles. I’m thinking about a garden in Connecticut of little perennials and trees from altitudes above 8,000 feet. To make these alpines survive near sea level, the gardeners built a miniature mountain with fast-draining, rocky slopes. Exotic. Wonderful.
- Categories // : Garden Stories, July 2010
Comments (4)
I have that same Cape Daisy growing in my Napa Valley garden - love the colors!
I'm smiling at your boulders. Just a little to the north and to the east is your neighbor Wisconsin. In Wisconsin, we have boulders and rocks galore, dropped here by the glaciers in the last ice age. Even though ornamental rocks are common, it's still possible to see which stones were native to the area and which varieties came with the glaciers and the formation of the Great Lakes.
what a nice way to describe the exotics. i brought some native seeds from the iowan prairies to central italy and i am thrilled that they like it - so far - in this total different "terra". i have the yellow coneflower (ratibida pinnata) flowering abundantly and the purple one (echniacea purpurea) is getting established. they grow next to german rasberries and a very thorny tree from egypt, which the previous owner brought with from a jouney. it is so much fun to play with pants.