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Geums -- As in "Gee, Am I Doing Something Wrong?

10/14/2024 3:28 pm

I fell for the literature and the promises. It's hardly the first time.  Gee, am I surprised? Geum species promise so much. But do they deliver? And if they do, how many years will it take until I figure them out?

 

My first Geums were acquired in 2014, Geum avens ‘Mrs. Bradshaw'. Their growth was scraggly. The red flowers flopped. I yanked them for not being very attractive.

 

A nursery picture like this seemed so attractive when I bought them:

 

Geum avens 'Mrs. Bradshaw'

 

If I'd have seen the picture below first, I would have passed. Note to self: always look for a picture of the entire plant and not just the flower. The foliage was dandelion like and every time I walked by before it bloomed, I was tempted to yank it as a weed.

 

 Geum avens 'Mrs. Bradshaw'

 

Nor were the flowers held stiffly above the foliage (like the picture above) at my house. They drooped. They were also smaller than I expected and I didn't really find them so pretty from a distance of a foot away. I blamed myself. I have very limited full sun and these weren't in them. So, like any serious gardener, I didn't give up on Geum species entirely.

 

I was on a North American Rock Garden trip out west when I saw Geum triflorum the first time. Cue the music. Heartland plant. Dry, sunny spots required. I'd even seen it at Georgia State Perimeter College looking great, plopped in a bed, fresh as a daisy in beautiful bloom - right out of the greenhouse, I suspect.

 

I bought a bunch on line instead of just one or two, because shipping costs, Yes, I could add a verb in there, but every mail order gardener knows what I mean. I scattered them throughout the rock garden. Hot, dry. Should do great. One put up a microscopic bloom that year. Two died. Two others limped along. Sure, it was a wet year. That happens anytime I try to xeroscape. It's a talent (that no one will pay for). Maybe I pushed the Zone a little too much. We were Zone 7b back in 2015. They were listed to 7 on some sources, but only 6 on others. And even all Zone 7's are not alike, I know.

 

Maybe I should have read these words from the Missouri Botanical Garden: "Best grown in dry, well-drained soils in full sun. Tolerates light shade and prefers some afternoon shade in hot summers. Prefers cool summer climates. May be grown in medium moisture, well-drained soils, but often will die out if subjected to wet winter soil conditions."  So I should have read beyond "dry"!  Still, I have a few remaining. I move them around like child's toys to see if I can do better. Three of five remain, the best looking of which is in mostly full sun in a fast draining soil mix. 

 

Geum triflorum foliage

 

Surely, given its size, it will look something like this next year with all this foliage, if we don't get inundating winter rains? It happened once in 2019 after all.

 

 

 

Geum triflorum in bloom once upon a time (2019) 

 

By the way, Geum triflorum's common name is Prairie Smoke because of what happens after the flowers are done. No one told me how I'd have to get down on my knees to notice this effect, however. I confess I wanted this plant mostly because I'd already given up on any hope of growing Pasque flower (Pulsatilla vulgaris) in Atlanta. This seemed reminiscent of it. In tiny form, anyway. Little did I realize it would be almost as frustrating.

 

Geum blooms -- see the prairie smoke?  Be prepared to go low and squint.

 

 

I took a pause on Geums for a few years after this. The flower options outside of Geum triflorum were pretty much just red or yellow. I lean towards more muted colors. Like screaming apricot, bright coral and hot pink. So when I saw an advert for Geum 'Mango Lassi' at Digging Dog in 2020, I jumped.   

 

 

Picture courtesy of Digging Dog Nursery

 

It limped along in the poor (but fast draining) soil of the rock garden for a couple of years giving me two blooms once until it was clear that it was not happy there. So last year, I moved it to a container near the rock garden. Next year will bring awesome blooms, right?  The foliage is lush, beautiful and mostly evergreen, so that is something . . . . 

 

Geum 'Mango Lasso' - promising foliage growth 

 

And if three fails/ near fails were not enough, I purchased Geum 'Totally Tangerine' in 2022, as I'd gone all in on orange and coral tones. Bwahaha. That one limped along in a container with good sun for two years, never getting more than a couple of leaves. I moved it to a bigger container in more sun with better drainage. Just when it had a few pretty new leaves, Hurricane Helene drowned it. A weak leaf remained, giving some hope, but it shriveled and died soon afterward as the temperatures skyrocketed again. Poof it went. This is what it never looked like:

 

 

Thinking of growing Geum? These last two are hybrids of Geum avens and despite my lousy gardening skills, they have some stunning foliage. If you are thinking of it, here is the advice of the Missouri Botanical Garden: "Grow in medium moisture, well-drained soils in full sun to part shade. Prefers moist, fertile soils. Remove spent flowers to encourage additional bloom, but consider leaving some of the later flowers so that the fluffy seed heads can form. Plants tend to struggle in the summer with the heat and humidity of the deep South (particularly south of USDA Zone 7). Some afternoon shade is best in hot climates such as St. Louis. Wet, poorly drained soils in winter can be fatal. Divide plants in spring as needed to maintain vigor. Foliage is evergreen in southern climates." 

 

So what lessons have I learned? (1) Read detailed growing information before you purchase a plant so you at least know you are "zone pushing" because our now southern USDA Zone is not the same as all other similar numbered Zones. (2) Keep moving a plant until it performs better or it dies. (3) If you don't like it, get rid of it. There is only so much space in the garden after all. (4) Hope springs eternal. We can tolerate a lack of flowering for quite a while if the foliage is at least nice. Maybe make lemonade from lemons by combining a disappointing bloomer with a pretty flowering annual.

 

Contributed by Liane Schleifer