Crocosmia Lucifer

Day 280: (Non sequitur: I love Bread Day! It finally cooled off enough that I felt like I could turn on the oven.) (Sidebar: that's not really a non sequitur because it doesn't follow anything, i.e., it's not SEQential. Wait, where was I going with this discussion?) Oh! Crocosmia "Lucifer!" (Hang on, I've got everything out of order here. The following sentence would be a "pre-sequitur" if any such word existed, but it doesn't.) It's cooled off! After almost a week of daytime highs in the upper 80s and low 90s, I was finally able to get out on my exercise bike again this morning, and in that amount of time, Crocosmia "Lucifer" had opened up and was fairly glowing in the early morning sun. Yes, I am fully aware that Crocosmia will take over your garden if you give it the opportunity, so I've relocated mine to several spots where it's welcome to spread. I'd love to get it started along the fence line where it would annoy my neighbours, but so far, I haven't been able to get it to "take," which is peculiar, given its aggressive nature. Nor have I had much luck with an orange-flowered variety which my botany partners gave me, possibly due to the fact that where I planted it is rather shady. Even so, Lucifer's bright red "dragons" perk up my yard quite nicely. (Boy, does that bread smell good!)

Hot Crocosmia

Day 277: Whoever named this variety of Crocosmia "Lucifer" probably did so because it is red-hot as the fires of hell. It also spreads like a weed, so if you succumb to its temptations, be sure you place it somewhere it isn't likely to take over the world. Initially, I'd put mine in a dead spot in the flower bed, and it only took a few years before I began repenting the errors of my ways. I dug it out, carefully sifting the soil for each and every tiny bulblet, but as is often the case with plants which form bulbs, there were some I missed. Little by little, I've managed to eradicate it from the flower bed and have moved it to a better location (two, actually) where it can grow with abandon. I love the "heat" the flowers give to the yard.

The Devil's Due

Day 348: "Are you sure you want to plant this in your yard?" Oh, if only I had picked up on the implied warning in that question, but I had seen Crocosmia "Lucifer" filling up waste space in other peoples' landscaping, and I couldn't resist the bright red panicles. I suspected the hummingbirds would share my enthusiasm for the flowers (in fact, they do), so I was deaf to the cautionary query, hearing only Lucifer's persuasive enticements. Devil that he is, he soon established himself in the flower bed, and it was only after I had spent diligent hours down on my prayer-bones that I was able to exorcise the evil I had brought to dwell amongst the gentle peonies and columbines. But again, I gave way to temptation (encouraged by those sinful little hummingbirds) and in a fit of backsliding, merely shifted the fiend to a new location where he was free to wreak any amount of havoc he so chose. The hummers are happy, and in that, I feel I have done sufficient penance for the transgression of inviting Lucifer into my garden.

Crocosmia Lucifer

Day 285: You admire a plant in someone's yard, determine to get one for your own garden, and three years down the road, you discover that while lovely, it exhibits traits which make you wonder if it's considered a weed in its native environment. Crocosmia is one of those. Its showy, its brilliant inflorescences shining at the tips of graceful, slender stems; it quickly fills those boring spaces in your landscaping, and it propagates both by seed and bulb...vigorously, as if given half a chance, it would take over the world. Once established, it is almost impossible to eradicate, a feature I learned the hard way after planting the red variety "Lucifer" where its foliage soon came to block the sidewalk. I dug it out, sifted the soil through my fingers to remove even the tiniest of bulbs, but I'm still pulling Crocosmia five years later. Aggressive behaviour aside, it is an attractive and colourful addition to the garden. Just be sure to locate it somewhere it can sprawl. The hummingbirds will love you.

Lucifer's Fire

Day 290: Well-meaning friends have advised me that Crocosmia "Lucifer" will take over the corner of the flower bed it occupies. I say, "Let it!" The hummingbirds love the brilliant red flowers. The corner in question is where the bed on the north side of the house meets the bed on the east side. It was formerly occupied by a bristly, unfriendly Picea glauca whose roots threatened the house foundation. Picea was replaced first with a yellow Camellia which was too tender to survive mountain winters. Although I'd originally wanted to put something evergreen in its place, I also wanted to add to my hummingbird garden. Practicality (attracting hummers) won out over functionality (winter foliage). Gotta do what's best for the birdies!

Seeds Of Crocosmia "Lucifer"

Day 12: The weather was a bit too cool for kayaking or bicycling today, and the government shutdown means I can't even go into work, let alone take a stroll up one of my favorite trails, so I decided to do a bit of gardening in preparation for next spring. The first project of the day was to move the half-sunken, enormous tomato pot forward so the Sweetfern would have room to expand (which, incidentally, it's doing nicely). I dug out half the soil in the pot and the space in front of it, shovelling the potting soil into buckets and the garden dirt onto a piece of heavy-gauge plastic sheeting I'd laid out on the sidewalk. Once loosened, the pot was fairly easy to "walk" into place without needing to be lifted. I relocated clusters of Grape Hyacinth bulbs and the chives, and then filled in behind the pot and installed four metal fence posts around it. Next spring, I'll put up 2 x 4 wire to keep Bambi out.

A few other small yard projects kept me busy for an hour or so, and then after I'd cleaned all the tools and put them away, I noticed that the Crocosmia's seed pods had opened. Crocosmia is notorious for spreading by both seed and stolon, so to keep the sprawl at a minimum, I harvested the pods for future planting. The hummingbirds love red "Lucifer's" bright flowers, so I'll set aside a corner of the yard where the plant can run rampant. After all, I have to keep my hummers happy, don't I?

Lucifer's Horns

Day 284: Over the years, the front corner of the flowerbed has been occupied with a succession of plants, none of which has been fully successful. The first was a densely bristly, compact spruce of some sort which never failed to bite me when I was weeding. It grew tall and interfered with the power lines and the roots were threatening the house foundation, so I decided it and its companion by the kitchen door had to go. Digging them out was a major task involving everything short of stumping dynamite which, in any event, wouldn't have done my sidewalk any good. The one in the corner was replaced by a camellia which proved too tender for our cold mountain winters. Frost invariably nipped blooming in the bud, and the leaves generally looked ratty. Still, it had been a fairly expensive shrub (it was a yellow variety), so I made inquiries among my friends and found one who was willing to take a chance that it might live or die. I delivered it to her in a bucket where she left it for a week before planting. Amazingly, it survived and is quite happy in its new home.

Although I really wanted something evergreen for that corner, I didn't want to risk having to uproot something a few years down the line. I also wanted something which would dominate the corner, i.e., a fairly wide and tall plant. Abandoning the idea of evergreens, I started casting about for other things which would fill the spot seasonally. I finally selected a Crocosmia (var. Lucifer) in full knowledge that it will take over the garden given half a chance. I planted one four-inch pot of thready starts. The plant is now in its second year, barely fills a foot of ground space, but the flower heads stand waist-high and bring a note of vivid color to the yard. If it wants to spread, I say, "Spread away!"