By Jean Thomas
Literally, Asters are stars. The word “aster” means star in Greek and refers to the starry shape of the individual flowers. Most asters are whole galaxies of stars, bearing bracts of hundreds of small daisy shaped florets. Asters are one of the stars of the fall garden and meadow, with their unique blue or purple, white or pink flowers. Their botanical name has undergone changes as the scientists fuss over recalibrating small details of the plants and increased use of DNA. Asters native to Europe and Asia remain officially asters, but North American natives are now Symphyiotrichum. Their common names include “Michaelmas Daisy”. Lucky for me, the common name remains Aster. As you may know, I get cranky when the scientists rename stuff.
Asters are among my favorite because they have one of the best attitudes of any plant. They are gorgeous in both of my meadows. They seeded themselves in the “wet” meadow and I have clouds of white interspersed with clumps of a vivid purple, all three feet tall and taller. Around the outskirts, along the mowed path, are dainty ones with tiny white speckled flowers sparkling against the mowed green of the grass. The “dry” meadow is more curated, and I have introduced the big purple tall ones (maybe the New England or the New York aster… names are fluid when you play with the natives) from the wild, along with yarrow and goldenrod. The pale blue with smaller blossoms and flowers introduced themselves, as did the small flowered white ones. Careful weeding and recognizing baby plants early on will accelerate the pace, but the whole tribe transplants happily. You can go “shopping” by just taking a walk in the fields and woods around your neighborhood. Don’t necessarily go with a shovel in hand…
The wild asters all have built-in size patterns, and you can prune the tall ones in early July to keep the flowering a tad lower. The garden centers also provide hybrids along with the mums and pumpkins in the fall. I browse among these for elusive colors not seen in the wild. There are shades of pink in my meadows that have been given honorary “wild” status just because I like them. While I admire the mums, they don’t act like perennials. Asters, whether hybrid or wild, are wonderfully hardy perennials, some to as low as zone three. They aren’t fussy about conditions. In fact it might be dangerous to overly coddle them because they can get pretty boisterous. I count asters among what I call my singing plants. Pollinator and naturalist experts value them all because they provide a feast for a multitude of insects, including bees and butterflies.These stars shine late in the year when many other plants have gone into fruit and seed production and lack pollen and nectar. Thus all the singing I hear when I go near the asters. Migrating insects find these to be a lifesaver on their arduous journey. For more information from better educated experts than I, lake a listen to the podcast “Nature Calls, Conversations from the Hudson Valley.” Episodes 89 and 133 are just two of the many episodes with more information about mingling native and introduced plants with beneficial results for the environment. Any specific questions can be addressed with a call to your own county’s Cooperative Extension Master Gardener Volunteers. In Greene and Columbia Counties, the link to get started is : https://ccecolumbiagreene.org/gardening.
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