Gardening with Heirloom Ornamentals
IN 1970, WE MOVED TO A 100-ACRE FARM on a remote peninsula in Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, with two horses, two cows, miscellaneous chickens, cats, and a dog. After we rebuilt the barn, plowed and planted the fields, restored the fences, and established vegetable and fruit gardens, I turned my attention to the previous owner’s collection of heirloom herbs, flowers, and shrubs, which I’d inherited with the property. Purple and white lilacs shaded a carpet of Pulmonaria officinalis, and an impressive clump of tawny daylilies (Hemerocallis fulva) flourished nearby. A few mock oranges and daffodils were also struggling to survive. Few of the daffodils managed to bloom, but those that did had tight clusters of intensely fragrant, double-white blossoms.
A rosebush sprawled in front of the house, and when its many-petaled, blush-pink flowers opened, I discovered old rose essence for the first time. I knew virtually nothing about old roses then, but I later learned this rosebush was a ‘Banshee,’ or ‘Loyalist Rose,’ common at colonial sites all over the Northeast.
A large colony of yellow flag (Iris pseudacorus) with swordlike leaves and classic fleurs-de-lis blossoms kept watch by the back door. This small collection of ornamental plants opened up a new world to me, with pronounced scents, a variety of forms, and charmingly quirky habits.
I thought heirloom plants were unspoiled by human intervention, but I’ve come to understand that curious gardeners have been tinkering with nature for centuries. What constitutes an heirloom ornamental is open to interpretation — they do represent valued possessions at different periods in history, but they’re as varied as the truly antique 16th-century double-flowered dame’s rocket, the 1950s ‘Ma Perkins’ rose, and the even more recent iris and gladiolus hybrids. If one of the greatest pleasures of gardening
