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Tag: aromatic aster

Painted Daisies and Aromatic Asters (2 of 2)

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From “Blue and Purple Asters or Starworts” in Nature’s Garden: An Aid to Knowledge of Our Wild Flowers and Their Insect Visitors (1900) by Neltje Blanchan:

“Evolution teaches us that thistles, daisies, sunflowers, asters, and all the triumphant horde of Composites were once very different flowers from what we see today. Through ages of natural selection of the fittest among their ancestral types, having finally arrived at the most successful adaptation of their various parts to their surroundings in the whole floral kingdom, they are now overrunning the earth.

“Doubtless the aster’s remote ancestors were simple green leaves around the vital organs, and depended upon the wind… to transfer their pollen. Then some rudimentary flower changed its outer row of stamens into petals, which gradually took on color to attract insects and insure a more economical method of transfer….

“As flowers and insects developed side by side, and there came to be a better and better understanding between them of each other’s requirements, mutual adaptation followed. The flower that offered the best advertisement, as the Composites do, by its showy rays; that secreted nectar in tubular flowers where no useless insect could pilfer it; that fastened its stamens to the inside wall of the tube where they must dust with pollen the underside of every insect, unwittingly cross-fertilizing the blossom as he crawled over it; that massed a great number of these tubular florets together where insects might readily discover them and feast with the least possible loss of time — this flower became the winner in life’s race. Small wonder that our June fields are white with daisies and the autumn landscape is glorified with goldenrod and asters….

“[The} Late Purple Aster, so-called, or Purple Daisy… begins to display its purplish-blue, daisy-like flower-heads early in August, and farther north may be found in dry, exposed places only until October. Rarely the solitary flowers, that are an inch across or more, are a deep, rich violet. The twenty to thirty rays which surround the disk, curling inward to dry, expose the vase-shaped, green, shingled cups that terminate each little branch….”

From “The Fleets” in Acis in Oxford and Other Poems by Robert Finch:

This year the autumn is a restless sea
Of weaving crests of waving goldenrod
And swirling billows of the purple aster
Whose foaming mauve tinges the tumbling air;

Across the hills and hollows of that ocean
A fleet of trees rides, with slow yellow sails
And crimson pennons ribboning the wind,
Toward the harbour of the horizon’s bar
Where an invincible navy waits at anchor,
A fleet of clouds, unfurling sails of snow.

Hello!

This is the second of two posts with photographs of purple Aromatic Asters (Symphyotrichum oblongifolium) from Oakland Cemetery that I took in October; the first post is Painted Daisies and Aromatic Asters (1 of 2).

These flowers are among the first asters to bloom across Oakland’s autumn landscape, typically appearing in September then expanding and tumbling throughout their surroundings over subsequent weeks. Their blooming time coincides with a similarly sized white aster — probably Tanacetum parthenium or a close relative — whose photographs I’ll feature in the next two posts after this one. The simultaneous appearance of these two variants, one with purple flowers and one with white flowers, is one of the first signs that we’re moving from later summer to early fall, their abundance marking that seasonal change just like the appearance of daffodils and early irises usher in spring. We might think of them as transitional plants, as they bloom and then are gone before even later blooming mums and asters take over the gardens as the oak and maple tree leaves start changing colors.

For this post, I wanted to show how these Aromatic Asters are used in memorial displays like those at Oakland. Their mix of wild, native, and naturalized variants makes them especially appropriate historically: asters of various kinds — especially those that bloom late in the year — fill in the spaces where earlier flowers have receded and have been used for that purpose for centuries. Aromatic (or similar) Asters that produce a large mass of purple flowers connected by stems that twist and turn in all directions create a muted yet colorful contrast as they mound upward then bend forward in waves. In Victorian, memorial, and cultural symbolism, the color purple is often used to convey dignity, respect, and remembrance, and lighter shades like those of Aromatic Asters encompass those meanings while creating a serene contemplative space.

If you look closely at some of the photos where I’ve zoomed in on the blossoms, you may also be able to see how that purple/violet color gets reflected in the memorial stones and gravel nearby. This reflected visual effect — one that is apparent even on overcast days — is intense enough that it comes through in photographs and is equally compelling when observed in person: studying the scene gives you a sense that you’re enveloped in the color purple, regardless of where you stand, and with all its symbolic meanings. The positioning of these asters — that is, where Oakland’s landscapers chose to plant them — is likely intentional, as none of the growth intrudes upon the memorial markers but instead complements them in terms of both color and texture. These visual effects are even more remarkable, it seems, since each individual flower is less than an inch in diameter, yet their combined density creates a purple tide that can be seen from every vantage point.

Thanks for reading and taking a look!

Painted Daisies and Aromatic Asters (1 of 2)

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From “Asters: The Stars of Autumn” in The Secrets of Wildflowers: A Delightful Feast of Little-Known Facts, Folklore, and History by Jack Sanders:

“Asters, someone once said, ‘are stars fetched from the night skies and planted on the fields of day.’ Indeed, it often seems as if there are as many asters as stars when September and October roll around. And to those who have studied the subject a little, it seems almost as if there are as many aster species — and, lately, aster genera — as there are asters…. Aster, of course, means ‘star,’ as in astronomy and astronaut, descriptive of the star-like form of the flowers….

“Until the 1990s, more than 150 North American plants were included under the genus Aster. However, close study, using DNA testing and other techniques, has determined that our ‘asters’ are not quite the same as Old World asters. Almost all North American plants once classified under the genus Aster now bear such tongue-twisting generic names as Symphyotrichum, Oclemena, Chlorolepis, Eurybia, and Doellingeria….

“Since there are so many species, aster spotting is almost an autumnal sub-hobby of wildflower hunting. With so many varieties-some exceedingly rare-amateur flower sleuths could spend many hours not only in finding but then in identifying asters.

“This is sometimes no simple task, for most wildflower guides do not pretend to list every species you might come across. Even armed with an extensive catalogue, identification can be tedious and technical, requiring close inspection of the leaves, seeds, or other parts. In addition, asters in the wild tend to form hybrids and to create tiny races that sometimes become distinct enough to be classified by some botanists as species….

“You don’t need a botany degree, though, to identify most of the common asters. Actually, it’s fun and challenging and, in the process of trying to separate similar species, you can learn a good deal about plant identification and structure.

“The season for aster hunting starts in August when the white wood asters (Eurybia divaricata) and other early species appear. September is the best time, since virtually every variety is in bloom sometime during the month. The flowers are a prelude to autumn’s bright colors…. Blues, purples, and variations thereof are common colors among asters. Many white varieties are also common, though often the white species will produce blossoms with subtle pastel tints of violet, pink, or blue. In many species the center disks start out yellow but turn to purple or brown later on.”

From “Asters and Golden Rod” by Helen Hunt Jackson in The Romantic Tradition in American Literature: Poems by Helen Jackson, series edited by Harold Bloom:

I know the lands are lit
With all the autumn blaze of Golden Rod;
And everywhere the Purple Asters nod
And bend and wave and flit.

But when the names I hear,
I never picture how their pageant lies
Spread out in tender stateliness of guise,
The fairest of the year.

I only see one nook,
A wooded nook — half sun, half shade —
Where one I love his footsteps sudden stayed,
And whispered, “Darling, look!”

Two oak leaves, vivid green,
Hung low among the ferns, and parted wide;
While purple Aster Stars, close side by side,
Like faces peered between.

Like maiden faces set
In vine-wreathed window, waiting shy and glad
For joys whose dim, mysterious promise had
But promise been, as yet.

And, like proud lovers bent,
In regal courtesy, as kings might woo,
Tall Golden Rods, bareheaded in the dew,
Above the Asters leant.

Ah, me! Lands will be lit
With every autumn’s blaze of Golden Rod,
And purple Asters everywhere will nod
And bend and wave and flit;

Until, like ripened seed,
This little earth itself, some noon, shall float
Off into space, a tiny shining mote,
Which none but God will heed….

Hello!

This is the first of two posts with photographs of pink Painted Daisies (Tanacetum coccineum) and purple Aromatic Asters (Symphyotrichum oblongifolium) from Oakland Cemetery that I took in October.

Referring to some asters as daisies is pretty common, as many asters look a lot like the daisies we accurately call daisies; and the family name — Asteraceae — is itself often called the Daisy family. But the historical nomenclature can be even more confusing than that, as the family was once called Compositae or the Composite family, because most of its extended family’s flowers are composite flowers. The quotation at the top of this post elaborates on that even further, explaining how some of the Aster family members were moved into their own genera — Symphyotrichum, Oclemena, Chlorolepis, Eurybia, and Doellingeria, and how that was a fairly recent development arising from genetic testing that occurred as recently as the 1990s. It is perhaps (or perhaps not!) interesting how these complex names of plants get modified in conjunction with scientific advances, but the common names — often derived from cultural associations, observed growth patterns, or their appearances — have a sticktoitiveness that their official names do not.

Composite flowers, as we have learned, can simply be thought of as flowers growing out of flowers — sometimes on top of and other times surrounding each other — such as the yellow and orange toppers we saw on the Zinnias I posted previously. Zinnias show off one of the most obvious visual occurrences of the composite flower feature, whereas these Painted Daisies and Aromatic Asters are a little more subtle about it. I was very pleased, however, to discover the early nineteenth-century poem “Asters and Golden Rod” by Helen Hunt Jackson, which describes a regal display of goldenrod standing guard over a patch of purple asters and takes note of their disk florets. The poem also reflects how the striking autumn color contrast between goldenrod and asters can be found in purple asters themselves…

… and evocatively describes an often overlooked variation in the appearance of asters that becomes apparent when we photograph them close up. At any given moment of image capture, the “little earths” of some disk florets have dispersed their seeds into the wind (turning the floret brown), while others haven’t gotten around to it yet, so those disks are still bright yellow and orange:

With every autumn’s blaze of Golden Rod,
And purple Asters everywhere will nod
And bend and wave and flit;

Until, like ripened seed,
This little earth itself, some noon, shall float
Off into space, a tiny shining mote,
Which none but God will heed….

Thanks for reading and taking a look!

Autumn’s Aromatic Asters

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From “Aster oblongifolius” in Armitage’s Native Plants for North American Gardens by Allan M. Armitage:

“The aromatic aster… is loaded with blue-purple daisy-like flowers that persist into late October. When brushed lightly, the blue-green leaves release a fresh, hard-to-describe but pleasant fragrance. This aster grows from rhizomes (as do most asters) and will attain a height of 2-3′ in the wild. Up to a dozen well-branched stems occur on a mature plant, and each holds narrow 1″ long leaves. The flowers are violet to pink to blue, each being about 1″ wide.”

From “Aster oblongifolius” in The Gardener’s Guide to Growing Asters by Paul Picton:

“The flowerheads have 20-30 violet, rarely lavender or pink, rays and yellow disc florets. Pale green leaves are oblong or lanceolate-oblong, to 8 cm (3 in) long, and rough on compact clumps….

“If freedom of flower production over a long season counts for anything A. oblongifolius and its offspring deserve to be much more widely planted by gardeners. The most aromatic parts of the plant are said to be the green-tipped bracts below the rays. The variable species has already provided gardeners with the selection known as ‘Fanny’s Aster’, which is similar but smaller. [Flowerheads] are freely carried over a long period on bushy sprays, with many branches which spread horizontally.”

Hello!

Below are seventeen images of Aromatic Asters that were among the earliest asters to appear this autumn at Oakland Cemetery’s gardens. I photographed these in the first week of October (already a month ago!) while hunting down zinnias. Their tiny violet/purple blooms with orange and yellow centers create one of my favorite color combinations — yellow and purple — that capture the eye’s attention against the dark green background of their stems and leaves. Visually, they make up for their small size by blooming profusely in these rich, highly contrasted colors.

I spent some time puzzling over whether these were Aromatic Asters (Symphyotrichum oblongifolium) or Bushy Asters (Symphyotrichum dumosum), given that Bushy’s flower is so similar in appearance. But the fragrance of these Aromatics was quite distinct — reminiscent, actually, of scented fabric softeners — so I stuck with the idea that I’d gotten the name right, especially since Bushy Asters are scentless. And Aromatic Aster’s unopened blooms emerge in a unique shape — similar to a cone or teardrop shape — that differentiate them from Bushy Asters.

Thanks for taking a look!