Beauty, are you not enough?

 So asked the poet Sara Teasdale in her 1915 poem, "Spring Night," and while the speaker in the poem never answers her own question, I would have to say "No." Of course, the sorrowful young woman in the poem is moping about because of her lack of a love interest, while I am complaining about a physically lovely plant that is verging on becoming an invasive in our yard. 

I refer to the Asian kousa dogwood, widely planted in the US because of its resistance to the anthracnose that plagues our native Cornus florida. This small tree is definitely a beauty, blooming several weeks after its cousin and possibly for a longer period.

But.

The areas underneath our trees are liberally sprinkled with baby kousas every year. Sometimes they hide behind other plants, and are a foot or more tall before I notice them. When we moved in, several years after the decline and death of the home's previous inhabitant, the walled garden near the house was home to two volunteer kousas nearly as tall as I. But free trees are a good thing, right?

Not always, and not in this case. One reason for Cornus kousa's "success" in North American landscapes is that it is not particularly attractive to North American wildlife. Pileated woodpeckers have been reported to feed on the strawberry-sized fruit, and I have seen squirrels nibbling on them, but this Asian dogwood's fruits are too big for most songbirds. The much smaller berries of our native dogwoods are more suited to our birds, which did, after all, co-evolve with them. 

The real problem with this tree, though, is that it feeds zero caterpillar species, and caterpillars are essential to most terrestrial food webs. Nearly all songbirds feed their young a diet composed mostly of lepidoptera larvae, so no larvae=no baby birds. In ecosystem terms, kousa is not only invasive but basically useless. In contrast, Cornus florida, the common eastern dogwood, supports 117(!) moth and butterfly species, which in turn support birds and other wildlife. Deciding which tree to plant should be pretty much a no-brainer.

Beauty is absolutely not enough.

Another nearly perfect plant

 It has been a while since I wrote about particular plant species, but this week has brought the first peak bloom of Coreopsis verticillata, specifically the cultivar "Zagreb," in the front yard. (Why a North American native composite bears the name of an Eastern European city is a mystery for another day.) As far as I can tell, "Zagreb" differs from the straight species primarily in being more compact. The bees certainly have no problem using it.

Zagreb has been on my list of Nearly Perfect Plants for some years now, for a number of reasons. First, it is nearly indestructible, unless one does foolish things like feed and water it, though watering it in extended periods of 90-degree drought is acceptable. This little yellow daisy thrives on benign neglect.

Second, it plays well with others. It grows happily in our streetside "hellstrip" with feather grass and assorted native perennials (plus a ditch lily that keeps coming back no matter how many times it gets removed). 

I am particularly fond of late afternoon sun hitting this green-and-gold combination.

Zagreb is a pollinator magnet, and one that starts blooming in early summer before the heavy hitters like goldenrod and Joe Pye weed even have buds. It blooms for several weeks, making  butterflies and bees and those of us who like them very happy.

It is also reasonably well-behaved. (Note that I did say "reasonably.") A clump will indeed grow larger every year, but this shallow-rooted plant is easy to divide, meaning that one good start of it will allow for easy propagation. Gardeners on a budget particularly appreciate this trait, which enables the plopping of clumps of golden daisies in multiple places.

Cheerful, useful, friendly--what's not to like?

It takes a village

to green a city. The original Harmar Riverbank Pollinator Project is coming along nicely (or at least the plants we planted have all lived--though the plants we don't want are making an enthusiastic return and the best poison ivy remedies are a frequent discussion topic among volunteers). The city has made water available and a neighbor has given us a spot to store a hose, so the recent hot, dry spell seems to have done no harm. The annuals tucked in for some immediate color and nectar are blooming, the perennials are considerably larger and fuller than they were, with a few blooms showing up on the early species, and more plants have been donated to the site. These are Good Things.

Perhaps even better news than plants that have not died is the support from residents. People walking past regularly stop to chat with volunteers, and the garden team is growing. Surprise support shows up.  On a recent work day, an artist walking her dog ran back to her home for items to make that day's edging task easier--and trusted that we would get them back to her. It's that kind of place.

Perhaps even better is that another pollinator-friendly public garden is taking shape literally just around the corner, again created by volunteers, including a city council member and the owner of a floral design shop. Again, the neighborhood stepped in. In the middle of what is to be a flowering walkway was an old post that once held a sign that no one seems to remember. The post had been largely dug out by an intrepid volunteer, but it was set in concrete, and that day's team tended toward gray hair and joints not what they once were. 

Then, out of an apartment across the street, emerged a guy who literally wrestled the post out of the ground and onto the sidewalk. Another neighbor brought a chainsaw, and the ancient post quickly became history. (Apologies for the blurry photograph.) 

Yes, it is that kind of place. Stay tuned for further developments.