There are many herbaceous plants that produce a cheering spectacle at this time of year, writes Jane Powers
YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE a tree to go out with a bang in autumn. Colourful foliage isn't the sole preserve of our woody friends: plenty of herbaceous plants end their growing season by suffusing themselves with various autumnal shades. Nonetheless, it often comes as a surprise when a previously green-leaved plant suddenly paints itself glowing yellow, red or orange (or interesting combinations of all three). It's a bit like discovering that a friend has been hiding a wonderful singing voice until it emerges at an unexpected moment.
Hostas are such plants, delightfully singing their autumn swan song in warm amber tones. Sometimes, I think we stop noticing their well-formed, ribbed leaves after they acquire a slug hole or two (or 12, more likely) earlier in the year. Our eyes pass right over the blemished plant, because we don't want to revisit again and again the outrage that has been perpetrated by the slimy molluscs. But the large hostas, such as the plump and stately H. sieboldiana var. elegans, are impressive in decline. Starting at the tip and margins, the green chlorophyll leaks slowly away, until the entire leaf is a rich ochre. As the green fades, so does the plant's vigour: the leaves lose their tautness and moisture, eventually draping themselves on the ground in an exhausted heap. Soon the rest of the colour and sap withdraws, and in time, all that remains of the summer's great quilted leaves are a few pale, pleated and puckered remnants, whispering ghostlike in the chill breeze.
Several other shade-lovers are beautiful in demise. The lobed, tripartite leaves of some arisaemas, for instance, are resplendent in rust and gold at this time of the year. Members of the lily-of-the-valley family (Convallariaceae), meanwhile, are adept at putting on dramatic death scenes. The leaves of Solomon's seal (Polygonatum x hybridum), which wing out from the arching stems, turn a brassy gold - not in this garden, though, where they fall prey to the voracious sawfly long before summer is out. We have more luck with lily-of-the-valley itself, the paired leaves of which turn a similarly tawny tone. And, if you have the room, Maianthemum racemosum (the most recent name for the more familiarly titled Smilacina racemosa) also takes on yellowy tones in autumn. In its native north America, this frothy-flowered woodlander is known as false Solomon's seal, or feathery false lily-of-the-valley, but here we tend to stick with the Latin binomial mouthful.
Another autumn show-off plant that appreciates a bit of shade is the royal fern (Osmunda regalis). As its name suggests, it is a majestic thing with well-shaped, large fronds. These change to a luxurious coppery-brown, before collapsing in a dry, russety pile. Like all ferns, it does best in moisture-retentive soil that has lots of humus. Most ferns need plenty of room, and don't do well where they have to fight for space with other plants.
Moisture-loving perennials seem to produce better late-season effects than plants that enjoy dry conditions. The bulrush (Typha) stands with its feet in the water, and hoists its brown suede pokers and beige leaves upwards - where they are gently illuminated by the low shafts of late sunlight. Astilbes may turn red or yellow, as do some goatsbeard (Aruncus). And rodgersias flush to a good, deep red. Recently, I've enjoyed seeing a clump of R. podophylla, by the river at Mount Usher gardens, take on shades of claret, gold and rust. Not far away, the equally bold-leaved Darmera peltata has been putting on its own rival show. This Co Wicklow garden is one of the best in the country for autumn colour (both on the ground and overhead), and its fiery tableaux are restoratively spirit-lifting, especially after the dismal summer we've had. (The gardens close for the season at the end of the month, so there is no time to be lost if you plan a visit.)
Herbaceous peonies are one of the exceptions to the rule (that I just made in the previous paragraph) about moisture-lovers and autumn leaf colour. Peonies hate to get their feet wet, and prefer a well-drained soil and some sunlight. Their leaves change from green to a medley of lime, sulphur, cherry and plum. I've said it before, but I hope you don't mind if I do so again: peonies have a short (yet resplendent) flowering period, but they enliven many seasons. In spring, their emerging foliage is maroon, red or bronze; in summer they have the most gorgeous, girlish blooms possible; and when the flowers are finished, the well-shaped leaves make a pleasant, green backdrop for plants that perform later on. Finally, in autumn, the foliage departs with a last, gaudy flourish.
Also perfectly happy on dry soil are members of the Bergenia genus, commonly known as elephant's ears, on account of their great, floppy leaves. Most are evergreen, and a number turn a sumptuous, deep red when the weather gets colder. Among those exhibiting this characteristic are B. purpurascens, 'Ballawley', 'Bressingham Ruby', 'Purpurea', 'Winterglut' and 'Wintermarchen'.
Many euphorbias are also happy in parched soil, and there are several that come ablaze with yellow or orange in autumn. Among them are E griffithii 'Dixter', E. polychroma, E. palustris and 'Clarice Howard' (this last runs through dry soil with carefree abandon, so plant it only where you're happy to have lots of it).
There are many other herbaceous plants that produce a cheering spectacle at this time of the year: hardy geraniums, Gaura lindheimeri, Lysimachia clethroides and some Persicaria species, to mention a few. And in the kitchen garden, the leaves of ruby chard become a deep red (jewel-like when backlit by the sun), while the fine fronds of asparagus turn into a veil of yellow netting.
Grasses, especially those of the huge Miscanthus sinensis tribe, are also impressive colour-uppers. We've just planted two that the Royal Horticultural Society recommend for autumn tones: 'Ferner Osten' and 'Kaskade'. Others that coloured well in a recent trial carried out by the RHS include 'Ghana', 'Septemberrot', 'Kleine Silberspinne', 'Nippon' and 'Rotsilber'.
Many vines, too, are spectacular at this time of the year. The Parthenocissus genus, which includes Virginia creeper (P. quinquefolia) and Boston ivy (P. tricuspidata) are well known for their brilliant scarlet and crimson livery. But the Vitis vines, with their well-cut grape-leaf foliage, are also beautifully yellow or red. Autumn colour is all about us. Today, for instance, I noticed that the interloping bindweed on our trellis was wearing a dapper mustard suit. Even my worst enemy is looking good now.
DIARY DATE
Gardeners' breaks at Cashel House Hotel: This Connemara hotel offers two-day residential courses this autumn with Ciaran Burke of the Garden School (www.thegardenschool.ie) on October 27th-29th, November 7th-9th and November 28th-30th. The cost is from €350 per person, which includes two nights' dinner, bed and breakfast, and afternoon tea. Tel: 095-31001, or see www.cashel-house-hotel.com