Even though the foxgloves have been outstanding in the Rose Garden and the roses and delphinium have begun to show off, I am still being distracted by allium. But then class clowns are usually pretty distracting. — In the best way. Last year we ordered more ornamental onions than we ever had before and planted most of them in the Rose Garden in an effort to close the May Gap. Success! And now that an abundant June is well under way, we’re still thoroughly enjoying their company.

I wouldn’t be surprised if the firecracker, Allium schubertii (left) was everyone’s favorite. It only stands a foot or so tall but its sparkling personality totally lights up the garden.

Allium ‘Ambassador’, on the other end of the height spectrum with deep purple globes standing nearly 5′ tall, commandeers attention – but does it diplomatically and with great good humor. — They’re like giant grape lollipops. So are ‘Pinball Wizard’ in the North Garden. Those are a little shorter, standing maybe 3′ tall and even with larger pops on top they carry themselves with an elegance that suits that garden perfectly.

Back in the Rose Garden we also planted A. amplectens ‘Graceful Beauty’, a cultivar of North American native narrowleaf onion. It was almost unbearably cute in bud but now that it’s open it’s a little more grown-up looking and perfectly lovely. My other new/old favorite that you’ll see in that garden is A. caeruleum. Its dainty flowertops are the kind of color that painters covet. It’s been a while since I got out my oils but my guess would be a mix of cerulean blue with maybe a smidge of phthalo blue and a tiny dop of titanium white…

We also threw in a handsome couple — deep burgundy purple A. atropurpureum and shimmering A. ‘Silver Spring’ that has a dome of burgundy centered white flowers. A stunning combo (their portrait is in last week’s post about galore-iousness.)

As far as I know there is only one real trick to growing ornamental onions. Like many plants that grow from bulbs, they tend to eventually bear hideous foliage. (A. karataviense is an exceptional exception.) So I believe they’re best tucked into an intensively planted garden where they can grow up through other plants (peonies, lady’s mantle, nepeta…) that will hide their scraggly yellow ground-level leaves. They can be deadheaded when they’re done blooming but we usually leave the big ones standing because they form seedheads every bit as ornamental as the flowers. And even if we take them down after they’ve dried we think they’re too pretty, too weird, too cool to throw away. That’s when we get out the spray paint…

Do you plant ornamental onions? Which are your favorites? I’m early for the Garden Bloggers Bloom Day celebration – head over to May Dreams Gardens tomorrow to see what else is in bloom in June. (Maybe others won’t be as distracted by allium as I have been!)

I am as fickle as any gardener. I’ll pick a new favorite color, fragrance, leaf, flower, and plant habit every other week (or day) and reserve the right to change my mind over the slightest disappointment. That said, the hyssops, which have been blooming since June, are vertically eye-catching, and smell like candy, have managed to stay at the top of my favorites list for months now. I also think they deserve the  “Most Attractive Plant” award in the 2012 Blithewold yearbook superlatives.

Agastache, which is pronounced ah-GAH-stah-kee or aga-STAK-ee depending on who says it (tomato, tomahto), is Greek for very much (agan) spike (stachys) according to Allen J. Coombes’ The Hamlyn Guide to Plant Names. (He pronounces it the first way.) Very much spike is right. And probably because their native habitat is sharply drained hillsides they’re fairly sturdy, unfussy, and drought tolerant. They are also hardier than I ever thought. Around here anyway, wet winters and poor drainage are more likely to do them in than cold temperatures.

We are growing North American native anise hyssop (A. foeniculum, zone 4-11) because it seeds itself all over the Display Garden. Its spikes start out a lovely dusty blue and deepen over the season and are more slender than its hybrid child ‘Blue Fortune’ (zone 6-9; crossed with Korean A. rugosa). That’s the one we’re growing in the Rose Garden this year and the bees can’t get enough of it. My personal favorite, planted in the Display Garden and North, is ‘Black Adder’ (zone 6-9). The deep indigo bracts are spectacular especially now that every plant is also decorated with its own klatch of a half-dozen or more American Lady butterflies. (At least I think that’s what they are.) All 3 are standing a good 4-5′ tall now and need propping – particularly top-heavy ‘Blue Fortune’ even though we lopped them back by half in late May or early June. In my own garden, I grew ‘Golden Jubilee’ (zone 5-9), which has brilliant chartreuse foliage through mid-summer and pale grey-blue spikes. The best thing about that plant is that its seedlings have already started to pop up. The more the merrier. We have no intention of deadheading any of these because we’re looking forward to their structure over the winter, but we have used some stems in flower arrangements.

I always though that the cultivars of hummingbird mint like ‘Heatwave’, ‘Acapulco Orange’, and ‘Summer Glow’ were tender but they’re at least as hardy as ‘Black Adder’ and ‘Blue Fortune’. Both ‘Heatwave’ (zone 5-10) and A. mexicana ‘Acapulco Orange’ (zone 5-9) came back for us this year but last winter was unusually dry and mild so it probably wasn’t a good test. We have our fingers crossed for ‘Summer Glow’ (zone 6-9) in the North Garden, which in its first year isn’t as outstanding as the others but certainly could be the prettiest of all with one more season’s growth. We’ll probably take cuttings and overwinter a stock plant in the greenhouse just in case it doesn’t make it outside. The slightly contrasting bracts on ‘Acapulco Orange’ and ‘Summer Glow’ make those my faves over ‘Heatwave’ (plus they’re orange) but the hummingbirds probably have no preference at all.

Are you as in love with agastache as I am? Which ones do you grow?

Some plants provide entertainment for the whole season and others just don’t and I sometimes have to try very hard to remember why we give clunkers space in the gardens. Campanula lactiflora or Milky bellflower is one of those plants – winner of the Most Likely to Leave the Party Early superlative. We have a sizable clump in a prominent spot right at the corner of the North Garden horseshoe and there’s no doubt that its reaching french-blue blooms get plenty of comments and compliments at the end of June and a little bit into July. But as soon as the flowers shrivel and turn brown from the top down, the foliage starts to go south too and that’s why I think it’s a clunker – and a party pooper.

Last week Gail and I shared our annual indecision over whether it’s better to leave the dried and skrunky sticks so at least it looks like there was a there there versus cutting it back, leaving a giant hole. We always opt to cut it back. What would you do? Right next to that clump, in party-on contrast, is another enormous clump of a plant that also only blooms for a nanosecond in June but hangs out in the garden telling jokes all season long. Is there anything better than Baptisia australis (False indigo) with its sturdy ever-blue foliage and dramatic black seed pods? Actually, I’m seriously asking because I would love to take out the campanula and replace it with something else that will stay to the end in bloom and out. What can you recommend that’s around 3-4′ tall with a blue or yellow flower that blooms in late June and has good looking foliage from May to at least October — besides amsonia?

I think there must be a place for the introverted campanula. I don’t want to rule it out entirely because the blooms are such a sublime color. But it’s the sort of plant that requires careful placement to ensure that it’s completely hidden by something else by the middle of July. (Unfortunately ours is not only not hidden but fronted by an equally disastrous and hole producing blighted peony…) But if there’s another plant in the world with extrovert virtues that include a long season of interest like baptisia (and amsonia), I’d trade the campanula (and the peony) for it in a nanosecond.

Who’s the life of the party in your garden? Do you have any poopers?

It was Lilah’s suggestion when she first saw the sea of pink peony poppies (voted Most Flirtatious) in full bloom in the Cutting Garden that I do a Superlatives post. Since I spent high school trying to escape detection, I never properly appreciated the value of yearbook superlatives – “most popular” I was not; though I might have had a chance at “cheekiest”… Now I’m thrilled to participate in the voting and have added a post category to my list in anticipation of this being a new tradition. Without further ado I give you the winners for the month of June:

Biggest Gossip

Eschscholzia californica (California poppy) has had everyone talking.

a three-way all-Echinacea tie for Most Likely to Succeed

We think that ‘Sundown’ will be a keeper in the North Garden for spanning the July gap. And ‘Virgin’ along with the long anticipated ‘Green Envy’ will always succeed with me.

Prettiest Smile

Dahlia ‘Pale Tiger’ brings out the gorgeous grin in all of us.

Class Clown

There’s just something about Calendula ‘Antares Flashback’ that makes us a little giddy…

and Most Likely to Be Famous

Click here to see a recent post about our giant sequoia by Danielle Sherry, an associate editor at Fine Gardening Magazine!

Do you have any superlative winners in your garden?