asters
The low light settles across the garden, bringing with it a quiet stillness. Most of the perennials now show the signs of late-season fading - blackened seed heads and leaves shifting through a myriad of colours. There’s a romance in this decline, a tenderness even, as the garden exhales into rest, the year folding itself softly away.
It’s with this fading that asters - some now named Doellingeria, others Symphyotrichum - begin to stand out: elegant, enduring, the last colour before the quietness of winter. Last autumn, I added some Doellingeria umbellata into the borders, wanting to anchor a touch of late-season colour into the scheme, but with a lightness that wouldn’t disrupt the existing palette. Looking at the rhythm of the umbellatas now, they carry a certain understated character, a natural tone that provides a subtle, elegant control.
I have one other aster positioned alongside the umbellata, which I believe to be Symphyotrichum laeve ‘Calliope’. Now, having seen this combination, I can appreciate the beauty of a bolder, more obvious flower threading through the neutral tones. There’s something particularly striking about purple in autumn - perhaps it’s the low light that complements this burst of colour, something less present in summer when the beds are alive with brightness.
Doellingeria umbellata
Symphyotrichum ericoides 'Pink Cloud'
S. 'Calliope' alongside the seed-heads of the D. Umbellatus
I recently picked up Symphyotrichum ericoides ‘Pink Cloud’; I was drawn to the scale of its flowers - tiny, pale pink blooms scattered en masse along the stems, offering a distinct contrast to the larger flowers of varieties such as S. ‘Prairie Purple’ and S. laeve ‘Calliope’. I decided on just two plants, to nestle into the gaps near the front of the beds and create a floral thread that links with the other asters in the scheme.
S. ‘Calliope’ would have given more height and drama, but I succumbed to my love of subtlety and informality - and I can already sense that ‘Pink Cloud’, with its light, romantic character, will sit beautifully within the naturalistic planting. I look forward to watching its behaviour and habit unfold next year, to see whether choosing the more subdued tone will still provide that same impact that the lone ‘Calliope’ holds when it appears, seldom, among the stillness of autumn.