A Sampler of Shrubs Worth Seeking

Surprise the neighbors with some too-rarely seen antique bushes.

By Kathleen Fisher

	Early Americans often grew Carolina allspice near their doorways, so they could catch its fruity aroma as they came and went.Photo Courtesy of Derek Fell

Shrubs have been the backbone of many an American garden ever since settlers began putting down stakes. Like trees, they're a year-round presence, but their charm—which often include flowers, berries, and fall colorÑare at eye level.

Some were popular as dooryard ornaments in the Midwest, while others were treasured single specimens on Victorian lawns. On more affluent estates, they were massed as single-species hedges or mixed as decorative "shrubberies."

Native shrubs were some of the first called into service, with plantsmen such as Philadelphia's John Bartram making rare ones more widely available. The palette expanded immensely with Asian plant exploration in the 19th century.

Some of these favorites, such as lilacs, azaleas, and forsythias, have never gone away from front yards. Others seem to have faded into their own woodwork over the decades, despite some unique features. True, they may be a bit ho-hum or shaggy "off season," but when they strut their stuff, it's time to turn off the TV and make a pilgrimage to the garden just to gawk in wonder. As naturalist garden writer Sara Stein puts it, "Who visits their blue spruce?"

Here are a lucky seven—restricted to natives just to keep the list short—that I'd like to see a lot more often as I stroll old neighborhoods.

Beautyberry (Callicarpa americana). My grandmother, who otherwise pretty much restricted her gardening to annuals, had one of these on the north side of her house, which I visited regularly each fall anticipating the glowing purple berries. Other writers have called them iridescent or metallic. If sited to catch the low autumn sun, they'll elicit gasps from visitors and last for weeks—depending on your bird population.

The shrub's overall shape is sort of a spindly fountain (although this makes them a snap to prune) and the tiny lavender-pink summer flowers that precede the berries are fairly negligible. There are some non-native species and cultivars that are perfectly acceptable for the historic garden since they've been on this continent since the mid-19th century. One called C. bodinieri "Profusion" has some of the heaviest berrying. Beautyberries are impressive massed at the edge of a wood.

Carolina allspice (Calycanthus floridus). Like many plants that have been around nearly forever (in this case, since 1726), this one has a plethora of common names, including sweet shrub and my favorite, bubby bush. It was a popular doorway shrub (mentioned by Thomas Jefferson) because of its flowers' tutti-frutti fragrance. The spidery dark red blooms appear from May through July, although the fragrance can range from dizzying to nearly zilch. I started mine from seed collected in the woods—it's recommended to buy yours when in bloom if possible so youÕll know what to expect. The outline of the shrub is a rather stiff V—supposedly up to 9« although about half that is more likely—and they will sucker from the roots.

Sweet pepperbush (Clethra alnifolia). Garden history writer Denise Wiles Adams pretty well sums up the disrespect natives were long shown in an entry on this plant, with an 1870 quote to the effect that "although indigenous...it has been brought into notice in the New York Central Park" and supposedly, imported to unsuspecting American gardeners from abroad in the early 20th century.

Clethra—in the trade since 1731 and praised by Bartram some 20 years later—has become extremely popular among gardening cognoscenti since natives began making a comeback a couple decades ago, but still has a long way to go before catching up with azaleas. Its appeal? Bottlebrush spikes of heavily perfumed flowers in autumn, when garden scents are sorely lacking. The first time I encountered them in a wood I smelled them before I saw them. White tinged with pinkÑmore so in some named selections such as "Rosea"—the flowers are followed by pods of seeds that look like peppercorns, hence the common name.

Smokebush (Cotinus species). There's nothing subtle about this one. If you see it in bloom, you may screech on the brakes, park the car by a fire hydrant, and bang on the property owner's door demanding, "What is that?" The excitement comes not from the flowers themselves but from hairs on the flower stalk, lasting for weeks in midsummer, that vary from white to smoky pink. Here we have to depart from our "natives" rule because although there is a native version—C. obvatusÑit can grow to an unshrublike 30«. Totally appropriate to the old (and smaller) garden is the species from Europe and Asia, C. coggygria, introduced in the mid-17th century. It has named purple-leaved selections with more pink in their put-out-the-fire "flowers."

Fringe tree (Chionanthus virginicus). There are a number of woody plants that can be called either trees or shrubs, depending on both natural bent toward single or multiple trunks and how they're trained when pups. This is one, with such charming old-time names as grancy (or granny) greybeard. Bartram was pushing the native in 1760 and an Asian version, C. retusus, was available by the late 19th century. In recent years, like Clethra, they have developed a reputation as a plant worth having—although the word is hardly universal. How else to explain my neighbors' sawing down one easily worth $200 in the course of clearing out a nasty patch of English ivy and wild grape vine? Nor do I ever see one sporting its heavy beard of whiteÑlike Christmas tinsel with less twinkleÑas I drive around in May. Female fringe trees have dark blue berries that birds appreciate.

Strawberry bush (Euonymous americanus). "Hearts a bustin'" is another common name that has inspired at least one folk song. That's because in September or October its bumpy crimson fruits explode to reveal smooth orange-red seeds—enough to make you cry if not for lost love, the bygone summer. A stalwart of eastern colonial landscapes, it tolerates a lot of shade but works best on the semi-sunny edge of a naturalized area. It tends to get a disfiguring disease called euonymous scale, but camouflage it among other woody plants and it will thank you when popping its pods.

Snowberry (Symphoricarpos albus). Introduced in the early 19th century, this was another old-garden hit because of its unusual berries—white as pearls and as big as grapes. Suckering can turn the plantÑwhich varies from 3« to 6« tall and wide—a bit scruffy, but that same trait makes it useful for holding banks, and shade tolerance means it will thrive along woodland edges or under eaves. A close relative, the Indian currant coralberry (S. orbiculatus), was introduced almost a century earlier and has smaller, purple-red fruits. It, too, seems to have fallen off the nursery map, but is a traffic stopper when mixed with other shrubs near an entryway.

Absent from this list are yet more natives, not to mention some beloved exotics. The upshot is, when seeking special touches for a historic garden, you should dare to go beyond what's on sale at the closest garden market and encourage the return of these living treasures.

Kathleen Fisher is author of Taylor's Guide to Shrubs from Houghton Mifflin.

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