First I had to give up the idea of control. You can’t control the wind here. So I had to accept that there would be some days that I don’t garden outside, just as during snowy or rainy days. Then, instead of just choosing plants simply on the basis of wind tolerance, I decided to focus on the things that I like about wind. I realized that I loved the look of the wind as it rippled in waves across grass, adding movement and rhythm to the landscape. I planted Calamogrostis x acutifolia ‘Karl Foerster’ which has a neat upright form that I craved.
The tough, thin stems seem to easily take all sorts of abuse from the wind and bounce back up after every gust. Pennisetum setaceum has a similar effect, but use it as an annual in cold climates, and only plant sterile varieties as it can invade wild areas. Other grasses that do “the wave” include Andropogon gerardii, or Big Bluestem. This plains grass forms clumps of upright bluish foliage to six feet tall if irrigated, 3-4 feet if not. The turkey-foot seed heads wave in the wind, reminding me of a gospel choir with their hands in the air. The whole plant turns beautiful shades of red, orange, and russet brown in the fall. I have lined a walkway with Big Bluestem and interplanted with Salvia azurea, whose long stems topped with sky blue flowers sway in unison with the grass. I have been wary about falling for the charms of Mexican feathergrass (Stipa tenuissima). It has silky seed heads which ripple delightfully in the wind, but later the delicate seed heads matt together like a mangy dog and the plants self-seed aggressively. New Mexico feathergrass (Stipa neomexicana) and the closely related needle-and-thread grass (Stipa comata) are other valuable members of the genus Stipa. These two species produce eight-inch pale green awns that shimmer like silk and seem to float in a breeze. Last summer the banks of this grass along I-40 west of the city were breathtaking. The early season awns drop after several weeks, leaving attractive sheaths. These last the rest of the summer and into winter. Be careful of the awns if you have pets. This plant isn’t called needle-and-thread grass for nothing. Little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium) sways beautifully in the wind also, and has the added attraction of russet fall and winter color, and seeds that catch the late afternoon light in fairy-dust sparkles. I prefer the staunchly upright forms of the grass, which stay upright even through snow, but for a more relaxed garden, plant seedlings, which have a variety of forms and colors, from summer silver to green, fall reds to tans, upright or slouching.
It’s not just grasses that can produce the wave effect, although with larger leaved plants it takes a larger number of plants to see it. A uniform planting makes the wind more apparent. Choose plants that have flexible leaves, but leaves that tolerate the wind without shredding. If the leaves have undersides that are a different color, so much the better. (One of my favorites for this effect is Convolvolus cneorum, but it isn’t hardy here). The common blue spirea (Caryopteris x clandonensis) provides this two-tone effect, with the added benefit of sky blue flowers. Unfortunately, there are few native plants that fit all criteria. Chamisa ((Chrysothamnus nauseosus) does, if you don’t mind the sweaty sock smell of the fall flowers and can prune it back severely every winter (unpruned plants have less wind effect). Coyote willow (Salix exigua) shows off the wind to great effect if you have a damp ditch to grow it in. It also has the benefit of red winter stems. Some of the daisies show the wind well if they have a uniform flower height. Ratibida (prairie coneflower) swings nicely, as would a bank of Perky sue (Hymenoxys argentea) whose leaves have a silvery underside. Of the penstemons, Penstemon palmeri has enough flower stems and height to show off the wind. There needs to be enough plants to be effective however, and the plants are short-lived but reseed well in gravel-mulched soil. The very stiff stems tolerate high winds well, which is essential during their spring bloom. Expect to lose a stem or two.
A neighbor’s quaking aspen leaves flutter in the lightest breeze, looking like a living Coca-Cola billboard. Unfortunately this high mountain tree has a number of faults in this climate, mostly its great thirst and poor tolerance to heat, but also its invasive roots that can damage foundations. In the right climate and situation, however, it is breathtaking. There are other plants that produce the flutter effect. Boston Ivy (Parthenocissus tricuspidata) also shares the quality of rhythmic movement. At UNM recently, a friend and I were hypnotized by the waves of wind turning the leaves. The effect was emphasized by the contrast between the moving leaves and the large plain flat wall. In higher winds, the thin leaves of tree yuccas such as Y. elata or Y. rostrata shimmer, twisting without bending. Visually, they are an applauding audience. For the shimmer effect, grasses rise to the moment again. Eragrostis trichodes (Sand Love Grass), a Southwestern native, has a similar effect, but on a smaller scale, to 2-3 feet. Be aware that sand love grass is said to seed with abandon and is short-lived. You’d expect Indian Ricegrass to have a similar effect, but it doesn’t, the clouds of seedheads blow in the wind as a block, like a matted hair net. Chasmanthium latifolium (Northern Sea Oats), and the aptly named Quaking Grass (Briza maxima) have larger seedheads which wriggle in the wind, those of Briza maxima giving it the common name also of Rattlesnake Grass. As a child, I loved picking a stem and shaking them to hear the rattlesnake sound.
Which reminds me: don’t forget about the sound effects of the wind. Aside from the goose-pimple inducing howl and the house shaking of high winds, the wind can make wonderful music in the garden. Grasses like Northern Sea Oats produce a soothing rustling, as does bamboo or other tall grasses, poplar trees and many others. Seedheads are natural wind chimes and rattles, such as mature poppy pods. The foot-long bean-like rattling pods of the neighbor’s honey locust tree change this tree from ho-hum to wow. Larger leaves blow in the wind, and when fallen, the leaves can make rustling, clattering little cyclones. Those with a firm texture, like cottonwood, are especially effective.
In designing a garden that takes advantage of the wind, I realized a great benefit. These are experiences you can’t capture with a camera. You have to be there to enjoy it. But when the wind reaches that peaking howl that makes the cats hide under the bed, do as they do in the south. Throw a hurricane party.
