Many of us have pored over garden centre and mailorder catalogues and websites, and stared at photos of plants and wondered if the blooms are truly that shade of blue/red/purple/green. Sometimes, the tags and catalogue photos boost the colours, and we've all seen that and sometimes it's quite obvious.
Well...when I first saw photos of Echinacea Green Envy I went RIGHT into orbit. Talk about plantlust. I had it in spades. I needed that plant. Even if the photos on labels and in catalogues were an exaggeration I was sure I needed it anyway.
Well...I got it, too. And guess what?
It really IS that green. And pinkish purple, which just makes it more desireable. Now, I have to tell you--mine aren't open this far yet--so this is a photo from one of those at Blomidon. Mine are starting--doing that slow elongation of the petals as the cone raises up from the centre--i figure by the weekend one will be open to almost this point. Isn't it delicious?
Then there is 'Matthew Saul' echinacea, also known as Harvest Moon. It's pretty awesome too. I like it better than Sunrise which I like really well. This is Harvest Moon (sing a little Neil Young along with me!)
I may have to go back to the nursery and get this plant. Confession is always good for the gardener's soul. I have a Harvest Moon--bought it this spring. I planted it, too--SOMEWHERE in the front beds. I can't remember where. And things are doing really, really well--we had some rain and now some heat and it's a case of "stand back, the triffids are on the move." Honestly. Everything is doing splendidly as if to make up for the crappy spring and summer til now. Hostas are enormous, roses are covered in blossoms, perennials are leaping out of the ground in huge sizes (I have a heuchera, Frosted Violet, that is 2 1/2 feet across--and still growing! In its first year here!). Must be the Seaboost coupled with mushroom compost coupled with fog.
Anyway, because of the jungle, I don't exactly know where my Harvest Moon coneflower plant is. I'm going to look carefully through two areas of the garden where it probably is, hidden under a giant monarda or daylily or perhaps the seven foot tall monkshood. and if I can't find it--if it succumbed or is overwhelmed by other plants--I'll admit my mistake and go get another one.
Er, make that my experiment. Because as the slogan goes, there are no gardening mistakes--only experiments.