Talk to botanists and they’ll tell you that the world is
full of DYCs. Botanists don’t care about
DC (a thorny place full of prickly issues), the DMZ (a borderline patch between
North and South Korea that is no place to garden) or AC/DC (loud rock music is
not good for plants). But DYCs are both
a source of amusement and puzzlement, because in botany, they are the damn
yellow composites.
Composites are plants with two part, daisy-like flowers. Each bloom consists of a center disk flower,
which may be green, brown, yellow, black, or any other shade, and the “petals,”
or ray flowers around the disk. So far,
so good, so why the swearing? Because
there are so many species of yellow composites and they all look so much
alike. A botanist’s street cred (even if
she works in the woods) hangs on being able to properly ID a plant, and DYCs create
mayhem and foolishness.

If cup plant excites you for its stature, you’ll also love
the towering cutleaf coneflower (Rudbeckia
nitida ‘Herbstonne’), which reaches over seven feet. Its ray flowers of an even more luminescent
shade than most DYCs droop a bit and the disk is mounded and slightly green. Double-flowered variants of this also exist,
but the blossoms look like used Kleenex to me.
Most bizarre is Cabbage leaf coneflower (Rudbeckia maxima), which shoots up seven foot leggy stalks, each
topped with a single bloom of very limp rays encircling a big brown disk. The base is a set of strappy, blue-green
leaves which reminded someone of the main ingredient in cole slaw.
Lest we forget the plant that swept the ‘1980’s, consider Rudbeckia fulgida ‘Goldsturm.’ With black-eyed Susan cheerfulness and
Terminator toughness, it became the poster child for the “new American garden” school
of landscape design, made millions for the nursery industry and thrives coast
to coast. Damn good for a yellow
composite.
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