Plants in public spaces have it tough. They have to tolerate varying conditions in soil, moisture and to some degree, sunlight. They must be easy to propagate and they must grow relatively quickly. They must be able to tolerate pollution. They must tolerate trampling, either foot or vehicle, and come back quickly. They should not be susceptible to vandalism (e.g. names carved into trunks). They must have year-round presence. They should use very little water. These plants should not have flowers that are pleasant for cutting. Nor should they be easy to transplant once established (or risk of plant knapping), although they should tolerate limited root run as well. They probably shouldn’t be too spiny (at the risk of lawsuit). They need to be large enough to be seen from a distance. They should be easy to transport, grow in a “can”, and recover from occasional desiccation.
To be honest, this isn’t much different from the average homeowner of a newly built house, and especially those landscapes surrounding a “fix it, flip it” house. Plants have to look good when installed, grow quickly to size (ideally not too big, for maintenance purposes, but for “flippers” it doesn’t matter as long as it looks good quickly for sale of the house), be cheap (owners are already overextended on their mortgage), available, have a “manicured” appearance, tolerate dogs (and their byproducts), kids, the errant football, the errant automobile (driver-in-training), and be “pretty.”
There aren’t huge numbers of plants that fit the bill. Hence the abundance of plants such as Buddleia, willows, Russian sage, Chilopsis, aspen, Vitex, rosemary, autumn sage, lavender, cotoneaster, rhaphiolepis, nandina, “Bradford” pear, ash, and others. You know the litany. This doesn’t mean that these are “bad” plants. Not all of these plants fill all of the requirements. When I surveyed landscape architects in the Albuquerque area for plants used in their designs, the number one plant was Chilopsis. It is a favorite of mine as well, for drought tolerance, beauty, size, quick growth. I have been known to sing the praises of rosemary and lavender. However, plants that suck water such as willows have no place here in Albuquerque. But that’s just my little opinion.
But because public spaces are such demanding places, designers may be afraid to use plants that are not “tried and true.” Who wants to bear the cost of replacing all the plants if they don’t work out? So the same plants get used over and over, with the rare acceptance of a new plant into the big boys club (Perovskia is an example). Also unfortunate, is that “tried-and-true” doesn’t necessarily mean “tried-in-Albuquerque” and this is painfully obvious in some plantings that would look great on the east coast, but suffer miserably here. Plants that have serious faults in this climates still get used repeatedly (how many unhappy nandina have you seen?).Think about the stunted linden by Best Buy, or the pathetic red oaks at Albertson’s (okay, it’s probably the unhappy environment at Albertson’s not the tree).
There are a number of plants that I feel are woefully underused in the public landscape. There are probably quite a few more, and you can probably think of a few of your own.
Sporobolus airoides (Alkali sakaton)
This native grass has an upright fountain form that holds up through wind and rain. The flower heads are indeed airy, but occur in such numbers as to provide a dense haze over the plant. The plants are a useful height of three feet in height and seed grown plants are quite uniform, as opposed to the variability in giant sacaton (Sporobolus wrightii, to six feet). Alkali sacaton requires practically no water, and appreciates the alkaline soil of the high desert, unlike Miscanthus. The photos I’ve seen don’t do it justice – go see it for yourself, in the parking lot at Plants of the Southwest in Santa Fe (there is also a plant on Montgomery, at the business offices west of Eubank).
Muhlenbergia rigens (Deergrass)
This grass is getting a bit of acceptance. Finally. And it deserves admiration. This native grass is fairly large, about five feet tall and six or more feet wide. This stunning grass looks like a giant Koosh ball, with flowering stems in slender wands by the hundreds. Although no more than an eighth of an inch wide, the flowers/seed heads catch the light when backlit, looking like a child’s drawing of a sunrise. Indeed, that is when it is its dramatic best. It takes very little water. What took people so long to catch on? See it at Lowes on Juan Tabo (if they haven’t sheared it) or at Primrose Pointe. You can also check page 81 of the book Grasses by Nancy J. Ondra.
Prosopis glandulosa (Honey Mesquite)
There is some argument as to whether this tree was once native to Albuquerque. I tend to side with those that say it was. Nevertheless, it is a beautiful tree, fast growing and taller with irrigation, but being native also to Arizona, tolerates quite dry conditions. The lacy appearance is completely evocative of the desert arroyo. Apparently, it was used by Native Americans as a food source, not only by collecting the pollen, but young seedpods as a vegetable, and ground seeds as a flour. It is commonly used in the low desert in public spaces, why not here?
Acacia greggii (Catclaw Acacia)
This plant is too small to call a tree, but doesn’t fit my idea of a shrub either, getting to 10 feet high and 15 feet wide. It also violates my suggestion for thornless plants in public spaces. But still, this hardy acacia is a charmer that is useful in the appropriate location. The thorns are sharp and curved backwards, making this plant called “wait-a-minute”. No one would fight this plant if used in a security planting. The small compound leaves are charming, and the pale yellow spring flowers, while not as encompassing as the sweet acacia (Acacia farnesiana) still makes me sniff again and again. Acacia constricta (Whitethorn acacia) is more upright and may be borderline in hardiness here, as is Acacia neovernicosa, both have straight thorns, and equally delicious fragrance.
Juniperus scopulorum (Rocky mountain juniper cultivars)
I like the Chinese junipers. I really do (I practically swoon over the sight of a big J. chinensis ‘Torulosa’, the Hollywood juniper). But he cultivars of the native Rocky Mountain juniper, look like they *belong* in the desert, and of course they do. ‘Skyrocket’ doesn’t seem to be as pencil thin here as described, but it is still useful. ‘Moonglow’ is an almost luminous grey, in that “kid-in-a-ghost-costume” form that I so enjoy, similar to the bright blue of ‘Wichita Blue’ except that ‘Wichita Blue’ is male, and thus illegal to plant within the city limits. There’s also ‘Tolleson’s Blue Weeping’, although I’m not fond of weeping forms of anything.
Juniperus deppeana (Alligator juniper)
Now this is a serious omission, although I can understand it because of its slow growth and its potential and eventual large size (to 60 feet tall and wide, although if you planted it today, you won’t see it that large in your lifetime). The checkered bark is engaging, and the form can be ruggedly and muscularly handsome. It also needs someone to propagate a female form. The specimen on UNM’s campus is a baby at probably 60-80 years old.
Euphorbia characias
Although Euphorbia myrsinites (donkey tail spurge) is common here, and there is a scattering of Euphorbia rigida (with the awful common name of gopher spurge), there is more to Euphorbia than these two. Euphorbia characias is another Mediterranean Euphorbia, with upright stems and a feathery appearance to the leaves. It is common to the extreme in California, but like Agapanthus, justly so. The bright yellow-green bracts are similar in all the Euphorbias, but these last for months rather than the few weeks of the donkey or gopher. The plant has a denser appearance than the gopher as well, with a variety of forms and sizes available: from the black centered bracts of ‘Black Pearl’ to the variegated ‘Tasmanian Tiger’, which breaks from the mold by having flowers mostly white. ‘Red Wing’ is a more refined appearing form, with a decidedly red tint to the leaves, even more pronounced in ‘Blackbird’. The hybrid E. x martini, (E. characias x E. amygdaloides) is even more compact.
Texas redbud
Why people still plant eastern redbud here when there is the Texas redbud is beyond me. Texas redbud has a richer flower color that doesn’t fade in the hot desert sun, and the leaves are glossy and thick, sensual almost to the point of obscene. The small tree at the Albuquerque botanic gardens was a glowing spectacle in the spring, with branches liberally covered with flowers. It was as if someone took a rich magenta Christmas tree garland (you know those gaudy fluffy metallic things?) and fashioned a tree out of it.
Cercocarpus breviflorus
I think the official name is Cercocarpus montanus var. breviflorus. Whatever the name, this mountain mahogany has decided advantages over the commonly available C. ledifolius (Curl-leaf mountain mahogany) and C. montanus. First of all, it is the mountain mahogany that is native to the Sandia mountains, but that may be the least of its virtues. It has a more relaxed stance than curly, and is evergreen rather than the deciduous monty. It also has more impressive seeds than either, with seed tails that glow when backlit by the late afternoon sun, so that the whole plant sparkles as if coated with sugar. Also worth mentioning is the diminutive Cercocarpus intricatus, the narrow leafed mountain mahogany. Slow growing to 5-6 feet tall, and with a more refined appearance than any of them, it also has red and yellow flowers in the spring, though not impressive, are noticeable, unlike the others.
Rhus microphylla (littleleaf sumac)
Although the variable Rhus trilobata first caught my eye, and is a common plant for public plantings, littleleaf sumac should not be ignored for similar situations. It is of similar size as the three-leaf, and is similarly deciduous. Fruit clusters are showy but spare, as well. But whereas R. trilobata’s claim to fame is its fall color (which in my experience is variable), R. microphylla’s colors are more muted. What it does have that R. trilobata doesn’t have, are spring flowers, which are white and enough to be noticed, if not particularly dramatic.
Of course there are more: Phlomis fruticosa comes to mind, as does Pinus pinea (Italian stone pine).
