Deptford Pinks

Day 274: Deptford Pinks (Dianthus armeria) get a bad rap. Many sources refer to them as "invasive," although it is certainly not as aggressive as knapweed or butterfly bush or any of a number of others which are capable of establishing monocultures at the expense of native plants. In fact, the Deptford Pinks which came to me in a wildflower mix (yes, really) grow very sparingly in the Barren Wasteland between my house and garage. I probably shouldn't admit to this, but I have tried to encourage them in that space, however, they have not been particularly cooperative, unlike the Rudbeckia which would gleefully take over my entire yard if I didn't keep it under control. That said, this is the problem with many of the region-specific wildflower mixes offered by seed companies: they contain non-native species which may even be on an individual state's invasives list. California Poppies are a case in point. Almost all wildflower mixes tagged "Pacific Northwest" contain California Poppies which are considered invasive in Washington. As for Deptford Pinks, mine came to me in a generic seed packet offered as a bonus for purchasing some other product, and the packet also included California Poppies which I've successfully rooted out. The Pinks? They're behaving themselves, so they can stay.

Deptford Pinks

Day 278: Perhaps my favourite of all the various things which have surfaced in commercial "wildflower" mixes, Deptford Pinks add a delightfully bright note despite the fact that the flowers are relatively small (smaller than Rose Campion) and are borne at the tops of thready 18" stems. I think the freckles are what make this member of the Dianthus family so winsome, or maybe it's the "pinked" edges of the petals which look as if they were cut out with pinking shears. The enticing etymological rabbit hole evoked by the term "pink" yields up nothing definitive with respect to the flower, although "to pink" means "to make holes by piercing with a sharp instrument," which to my way of thinking (although entirely unsupported) might refer to the resemblance of the freckles to small perforations. Trypophobics beware! You might want to think twice before planting Deptford Pinks in your garden!

Deptford Pink, Dianthus Armeria

Day 268: Pink or not, I love Dianthus armeria, the Deptford Pink, and I very nearly eliminated them from the Barren Wasteland by overzealously collecting the seed to share with friends. I neglected to consider that they are an annual, and as such, need to re-sow themselves as their primary means of reproduction. But like many plants, they also have a backup plan. The roots sometimes form additional basal rosettes, so although the plant you see today may be dead and gone in the space of a few years, its clones may persist to form genetically identical offshoots of their own. The species was introduced to North America so long ago that it is now considered naturalized. Although the stems may grow to two feet in height, they are thready and thin. The freckled flowers appear at the tips and are relatively small, measuring only half an inch at maximum. They close in late afternoon or early evening.

Dianthus Armeria, Deptford Pink

Day 274: The Deptford Pink (Dianthus armeria) came to the US so long ago that it has now naturalized throughout most of the country. It is also known as Grass Pink or Mountain Pink, and like most Dianthus species, it can cause mild skin irritation in susceptible individuals. It is tolerant of dry and nutrient-poor soils, a characteristic which has undoubtedly contributed to its success. Even so, it is not considered invasive, and is often included in wildflower mixes such as the one I tossed out into the Barren Wasteland many years ago. This gives rise to a question for which I have found no definitive answer: what criteria make a "native" species? And how can we hope to sort out those plants which have always been present in an area, and how many may have only been present for, say, the last 10,000 years? Tracking a genome back through time to its origin is a relatively new science, and not without pitfalls. Sports (spontaneous mutations from the parent species) occur in any genetic line, and who is to say that our "Deptford Pink" might not have sprung up independently from that known in England and Europe, or perhaps even begun to grow alongside the European introductions? Without sequencing each and every Pink, there is no way of knowing.

Deptford Pink

Day 278: Let's talk about a couple of plain-English terms which many people find confusing. First off, when speaking of a plant as being "native" to an area, we mean that it has been there since...well, since it was first recorded by a human being. We have no way of knowing its prior history, although the advent DNA sampling has given us a few glimpses, but indigenous lore will tell us if it had any medicinal, culinary or spiritual significance even before the first botanist arrived to put a name on it.

On the other end of the scale, we have "invasive." Invasives are those plants which are not native to an area, and that have the capacity for establishing themselves at a sacrifice of native species. These are the "bad boys," and they come in various levels of virulence. Some are capable of becoming monocultures, crowding out anything else which might grow in a particular area, like the Phragmites which is invading many of our wetlands and waterways.

Now we have come to "naturalized," those plants which we know for certain did not occur in a region prior to a determinable (if broad) point in time, having been brought to an area deliberately or accidentally, and posing no threat to native species. One such plant is the delicate Deptford Pink (Dianthus armeria). It may have been brought to America by Europeans who wanted to retain a link with their home country's wildflowers, or it may have followed them as a seed caught on fabric or in hair, in animal fodder, or other means of inadvertent transport. It does not proliferate to a point which threatens native plants, does not draw pollinators away from the business they should be conducting; it is as innocuous as the student who sits in the back row studying, never raising a hand or participating in classroom discussions.

The Barren Wasteland holds quite a population of Deptford Pinks thanks to their inclusion in a packet of "native" wildflower seed (read the first paragraph again, please). I say, the more the merrier. The stems are tall and wiry, and the leaves are sparse and unassuming, almost invisible against the background of more aggressive plants. I don't notice it growing until one day, a flush of speckled pink eyes open. "Deptford! There you are!" It's always nice to see them again.

When Pink Is Permissible

Day 284: I take a lot of flak from people who know I detest pink when they see these flowers in my garden, but above all, I respect Ma Nature, and since she's insisting that these self-sowing, persistent volunteers be given their time in the sun, I'm not going to object too loudly. All four (Rose Campion, Deptford Pink, Cosmos and Nigella) are on the "magenta" end of the scale, not even close to the "baby pink" which causes my gorge to rise. They give a bit of colour to the flower beds now that the blues have mostly gone by, and for the most part, they remain below the taller yellows and golds (Snapdragons and Gaillardia) which currently dominate the Barren Wasteland. Bright reds are woefully lacking in my yard other than Crocosmia, somehow brushed aside when I was planning a "no-theme" planting scheme. My one main consideration was to avoid pink, yet here it is, and though it pains me to admit it, I'm glad to have them. Magenta...I'm tellin' ya, they're magenta! Shut up with the "pink" already!

Barren Wasteland

Day 287: I call it the Barren Wasteland: the ten-foot wide space between my house and garage. When I first moved here, I thought to turn it into a vegetable garden, working around the concrete and wood dead spaces which cover the pit where my water system's captive-air tank lives. Little did I know that nothing but weeds would grow in that soil...not radishes, not zucchini, and definitely not corn or peas or tomatoes. A few years' experiments with bush beans yielded rather sickly crops, so after several attempts at trying to draw blood from the proverbial turnip, I threw in the towel and let the Barren Wasteland go. Then one year I hit on the bright idea of making it a wildflower garden. I bought a mix of seeds "designed for the Pacific Northwest" without paying too much attention to the content. It came up mostly California poppies which, despite being pretty en masse, are undesirable for their tendency to go out of control and into monoculture. My vision of a rampant English-garden style space refused to go according to plan until I relocated a vigorous Rudbeckia to one corner, apparently providing just the "lift" the Wasteland needed to take off on its own. I even found that some of the wildflower seeds germinated long after they'd been sown, delicate Deptford Pinks shooting up here and there accompanied by orange Wallflowers and the occasional Tall Phlox from some prior point in history. I added Rose Campion (purloined from a friend's yard) and more Rudbeckias, even a wild currant. Little by little, the Barren Wasteland filled in. Today, it's far from barren, but the name persists for this "wild space" where colour now crowds out the weeds. I'm happy with it, even though I am still pulling California poppies.

Deptford Pink, Dianthus Armeria

Day 289: I have found both Deptford Pink (Dianthus armeria) and superficially similar European Centaury (Centaurium erythraea, formerly C. umbellatum) growing wild, but in this case, the Deptford Pinks came in a wildflower seed packet and surprised me by showing up in the area I refer to as the "Barren Wasteland" between my house and garage. I greeted them as I do many of the people I know: by addressing them by the wrong name. With plants but seldom with people, a closer look invariably corrects the error. Deptford's freckles and fringe immediately generated an apology. "Oh, hi, Deptford!" I said, as I offered a much-needed drink of water to the inhabitants of the Wasteland. Deptford keeps company with Coreopsis, Oriental and (persistently) California poppies, white yarrow (much to my dismay), Sweet William and assorted other drought-tolerant, rather weedy species. I don't much care what grows in the Wasteland, just as long as it puts up some colour. Aggravatingly, the company which packaged the wildflower seed also saw fit to include Bindweed, that white Morning-Glory which strangles anything and everything in its path. I am being diligent about removing it, but have found a few strays which escaped notice climbing up the stems of the Coreopsis. WHY would anyone consider Bindweed a desirable plant? Wildflower mixes often include non-native species which can become invasive, so know what to be watching for when the seeds sprout. As for Deptford, he and his offspring are welcome to populate the Wasteland, pink or not. I mean, who can resist freckles?