Despite the brief glory of flaming leaves, autumn is really a subtle season. Flowers change to seedheads, pods and berries. Sometimes these are brilliantly colored, but, in many plants, these final gifts of the season are tinted with elusive hues only seen on close inspection. Predestined changes occur at different rates. One day the trees are glorious; the weather changes to a night of wind and rain and the next day they are nearly bare; their glory covering the ground. Flowers fade and in their place seed pods slowly form and mature offering the gardener the subtle pleasures of autumn.
Graceful Change
Miscanthus gracillimus displays her grace best on breezy autumn days when her flowing skirts and feathery plumes toss and sigh. Greens and winey rust fade to pale beige and tan in winter; silken sighs turn raspy in winter winds.
In the garden, the change from silky wine hued flower to fuzzy seedhead takes weeks to occur. I found, by accident, that it happens almost before your eyes if you cut the flower and bring it inside to warmth. Even if the stem is placed in water, change happens rapidly. If not placed in water, within a few hours the individual flower stems curve and fluff.
The same flower pictured above began to change while in the scanner - it's on the left. By the next day, it looked like the stem on the right. You can see the individual seeds with their silken propellers that carry them far and wide in winter's winds.
Pennisetum alopecuroides 'Moudry' doesn't start to send up her black bottle brushes until the end of September in my USDA zone 7 garden. They are striking in groups, especially if you're lucky enough to venture out immediately after a rain, followed by sun, when each hair on the brush has caught and retained a droplet of water. The effect is truly magical.
As the seed matures, by the end of November or early December, greens and blacks give way to shades of tan and brown, but they remain a presence in the garden until late winter when they start to shatter.
This grass is an inveterate seeder; if you are weak minded (like I am) and can't bear to cut off the brushes while they are still in their glory, you will have the pleasure of pulling hundreds of seedlings each year. I keep telling myself to cut these back, but inevitably, I forget until it is too late.
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