Maiden Grasses-and their friends

Family: Gramineae (Grass family)
Genus: Miscanthus
Species: sinensis
Featured cultivar: ‘Morning Light’

The harvest is happening, the weather is warm, and the gardener has a brief window between the glorious profusion of late-summer color and the full-up, flat-out, rake-‘til-you’re-ragged clean-up that happens every fall. Take a break from cooking and pickling the seemingly endless stream of little zucchinis that appear as if by magic every morning (or take a rest after leaving them on strangers’ doorsteps in the dead of night), and enjoy this warm beginning of fall in the Pacific Northwest. It’s time to give our backs a break, put our feet up on the porch rail, and sip lemonade during what is usually one of the warmest months of the year. We can bask in the sunshine and pay tribute to our own hard work-and give thanks for the many good-looking plants that consistently perform well without asking much from us. There are many ornamental grasses that fall into this category.

Grasses, and the unrelated but similar-looking sedges, play an important role in our gardens. Many of them are easy to grow and even easier to maintain. They’re very attractive and remarkably resilient. They require no deadheading of blossoms, no tricky pruning-and there are no worries about aphids or thrips or powdery mildew. They demand little water, and they’re not fussy about soil. Their overall shape; the variety of looks they offer in size, form, and color; and their slender, graceful leaves provide interesting focal points in nearly every garden, whether it’s a single container, a standard plot in town, or several acres in the county. Their disadvantages are few. Some can spread invasively by rhizomes or reseed themselves a little too enthusiastically, and others can be frustratingly messy as they continually shed their leaves. I was given a nasty shock by a grass a few years ago, when I reached into the center of one of my blue oat grasses (Helictotrichon sempervirens). I was confronted by a mass of what looked to be a gathering of other-worldly aliens dropped off by their Mother Ship the night before (dodging the zucchini deliverers, no doubt). They were most unpleasant to behold. It turned out that an earthly fungus-Fusarium-had moved in and made itself comfortable. Happily, that was the only sighting I have to report. A rare occurrence, indeed.

I don’t think I could reach into the center of any of the Miscanthus in my yard, even if I wanted to. The leaf blades are tightly packed and have very sharp edges. All of the six or so that flourish in my beds are divisions taken from one parent plant purchased nearly ten years ago: Miscanthus sinensis ‘Morning Light’. It is a delightful grass, my very favorite, sized just right for a city yard. Some members of the Miscanthus genus can top ten feet, and caring for them requires a ladder and a strong sense of adventure. Trimming them is out of the question; the same sort of exercise in futility as, say, giving an elephant a pedicure. They are very useful in other settings-Miscanthus x giganteus is now being examined and cultivated commercially in Europe as a potential bioenergy source.

Miscanthus sinensis ‘Morning Light’ is nearly four feet tall, and narrowly upright, so it’s excellent for those places that need a strong vertical presence without much horizontal spread. Its very narrow leaves are pale green with white margins and just the faintest tinge of pink. It is a beautiful specimen plant, and it blends nicely with a range of companions. Right now it’s enhancing Gaura lindheimeri ‘Siskiyou Pink’ and a tumble of Sedum ‘Vera Jamieson’ at its feet. I’ll enjoy the spectacle now; and in the winter, I’ll appreciate the movement and rustling sound that M. sinensis ‘Morning Light’ brings to my garden. In February, I’ll lop the whole thing straight off at ground level, and before I can say, “the tulips are finished,” it will be growing vigorously up-but not out-to take its place once again.

The Miscanthus genus has fifteen species, none of them native to this hemisphere. But they seem to enjoy their adopted home in the Pacific Northwest, although not excessively so. I can find no evidence that they are a threat to native vegetation as is, for example, Cortaderia, the Pampas grass that settles in all too easily and way too vigorously. That particular grass genus is best avoided. While many Miscanthus are large, many others are right-sized for our smaller gardens. These include M. sinensis ‘Adagio’, which reaches only two feet and turns bronzy red in the fall; ‘Arabesque’, high achieving at five feet; ‘Purpurescens’, with the coloring its name implies; and ‘Zebrinus’, for those who appreciate the truly exotic. The matriarch of the clan, M. sinensis ‘Gracillimus’, is the well-known Maiden Grass. In my opinion, its tendency to shed its rigid leaves that are completely compost-resistant is a reason to keep it out of my garden; but if you like its looks, you may want to consider M. sinensis ‘Yaku Jima’, the dwarf form.

If you do choose a Miscanthus, be prepared to enjoy it year-round, except for the very early spring when it is but a low-lying clump after its annual shearing. Even then, it looks tidy; and the plethora of spring bulbs and flowers will easily distract the eye. By the time summer arrives, your Miscanthus will again stand proud as an example of good looks and easy maintenance.