UNfavorite Annuals

Earlier I took a look at some of my very favorite annuals to grow from seed. Here are some seed-grown annuals that are at the opposite end of the spectrum for me, for one reason or another.

Caveat: these flowers may be just fine in another situation, or perhaps if you know how to treat them right. They may in fact be on your list of favorites, and perhaps I am unfairly maligning them. Please don't be offended or arrest me for plant calumny - this is just my two cents based on my particular growing experience!

Cosmos

Cosmos 'Daydream' falling on squash

I'll start with Cosmos. I know this is a super popular annual to grow from seed. It does indeed germinate easily (just sow and grow), and the flowers are certainly pretty. The foliage is cool and ferny looking. HOWEVER - in my garden, the plants always get blown over just as soon as they barely begin flowering (if not before). This leads to lots of stem breakage, and a general ugly sprawling mess. Also, in my relatively short growing season they don't start to flower until mid-August. I kept growing cosmos for several years, hoping that the poor performance was just a fluke, and then finally gave it the ax.

Cosmos 'Sonata' also falling on squash, despite wooden supports intending to prevent this

Lavatera

Lavatera 'Mont Blanc' blooming for 4 minutes

Lavatera is an annual that gets praised to the skies in seed catalogs, and always looks stunning in the pictures. (I've learned not to trust most seed catalog descriptions by now, of course - liars!) The plant does indeed grow at a heart-stopping rate, quickly getting large and full of blooms. The flowers are big and abundant. HOWEVER, the plant has an insubstantial and cheap show-offy character that I find frankly irritating. And most importantly, as soon as blooming begins it gets some sort of wilt (?), the foliage turns lurid shades of yellow-brown, and the entire plant collapses in a heap. It looks like slime stew. Fortunately for your stomach, I have no pictures of the plant in this state. Here is a shot just before meltdown:

Lavatera 'Mont Blanc' about to melt (note poor condition of foliage)

As you can imagine, lavatera will not be joining us anymore.

Gomphrena

Gomphrena 'Woodcreek Lavender' with Zinnia 'Benary's Giant Salmon' (why?)

This one is totally unfair, but I was so traumatized (and embarrassed) by the combination of Gomphrena 'Woodcreek Lavender' and salmon zinnias in my garden one year that I cannot think of this plant without feeling nausea. (I made this photo EXTRA LARGE so you could enjoy it as well!) Of course, it's not the gomphrena's fault that its flowers are that color. I can't really justify this one, but I just don't like this plant. It looks like it has mauve pimples. And it had the gall to spoil my beautiful zinnia display.

Clarkia elegans

Clarkia elegans 'Appleblossom'

I absolutely love the other types of clarkias I've grown, but clarkia elegans was a real disappointment. Despite frilly pink double flowers (something which normally wakes up the 6-year old girl in me, who generally has the power to override whatever the rest of me is thinking), the ungainly mess of a plant habit caused my adult brain to get cranky and do a veto. It's hard to see in this awful photo, but the plant has branches that stick out in an awkward fashion every which way. The double flowers apparently come as a total surprise to the plant, causing it to fall over in astonishment. Foliage is not attractive and the whole thing looks vaguely weedy. The flowers, habit, and foliage have a kind of incongruity to them, as if the pieces were compiled from leftover bits of other plants. And perhaps most offensive: the flowers LOOK like they should be fragrant, but they're not! (how dare they?)

Bells of Ireland

Another annual that I will never grow again is Bells of Ireland, molucella laevis. This is what it looks like at first:

Bells of Ireland and annual Candytuft

 So architectural! Such classy green flowers! Stretching proudly towards the sky! I was thrilled enough with it to decide that the odor - which some apparently nose-damaged gardeners have likened to lemon - did not really bother me all that much. Well, as long as I stood quite far away while viewing it. And then it did this:

Bells of Ireland going crazy

The bottom half of the plant turns brown, the top half begins to twist and turn and fall all over the place. It is a 6-foot monster that crushes everything in its path. (It smothered my favorite clarkia!) So, I decided to hold my nose, get near it, and pull it out. By this point it has formed very thick, woody stems that are difficult to break off. It has surprisingly deep roots that resist my attempts to pull them. Naturally, it is also covered in thorn (a detail I had failed to notice before, since I was standing so far away from it). Worst of all, the smell - the awful smell of toxic industrial strength dish detergent mated with skunk - gets on your hands, your clothes, your hair. And will not wash off for days. It smells nothing like lemon, believe me.

So I decided never to plant this awful curse again. Only bad luck for me, because Bells of Ireland reseeds abundantly and widely, as any garden reference can tell you. (I actually do own many garden references and you would think I would consult them before planting something. Yet somehow, I still see a pretty picture in a seed catalog and think "The best way to find out about this plant is to scatter seed in the garden and just see what happens! No need to consult the wisdom of millions of gardeners who have gone before me - that would be a cop-out!") This was about five years ago, and every year since then I have been pulling stinky seedlings. Someone else has inherited my old rented community plot now - poor unfortunate soul! I will miss many things about that old familiar piece of ground - the loamy texture which I broke my back to achieve, the giant pile of free all-you-can-haul compost and leaf mold, the neighborly garden companionship. But molucella, I say goodbye to you with a smile.