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Antique Annuals: An Interview with Peggy Cornett
by Tovah Martin
Gardening goes way back in Peggy Cornett's family. Her grandfather tended a sizable orchard as well as a vegetable garden at his home in the South, and her mother followed suit, cultivating the vegetables that her in-laws had preserved at their Kentucky home. "Gardening was in my blood, I guess," Peggy figures.
But she didn't spend much time in the garden until her brother was killed in the Vietnam War. She was twelve years old. Before that moment, gardening had been a chore burdened by boring hours of endless weeding. But she spent the summer her brother died by her mother's side in the garden. "It was sort of a healing thing for her. That was the summer she told me about our family's heirloom pole beans, the ones that melt in your mouth like butter. And she showed me the differences between the other family beans as well, taking them in her hand and pointing out their unique shapes and how they were used in the family recipes. I have real strong memories of that summer."
A variety of heirloom zinnias.
Photo: Tovah Martin
That summer was Peggy's initiation into heirlooms. Although vegetables were her family's main focus, she learned about more than just beans. "I remember the French marigolds in the garden as well. My mother didn't waste much time on those marigolds; she was busy growing enough food to feed the family. Nevertheless, she always planted them, and she always planted nasturtiums as well."
No one was surprised when Peggy decided to study botany in college. The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill had no horticulture program per se, so Peggy constructed her own syllabus. She worked with camellias and at the same time discovered a fascination for native plants. An undercurrent of interest in historic horticulture, though, was the motivation that drove her research. Although historians had written about perennials, Peggy realized that the history of annuals was virtually neglected, so she began to explore the topic. She brought together what she gathered from primary sources—dusty volumes, catalogs, and periodicals housed at libraries, including the Pennsylvania Horticulture Society and the Massachusetts Horticultural Society—in a volume called Popular Annuals of Eastern North America 1865-1914, published in 1985 by Dumbarton Oaks.
Where Have all the Annuals Gone?
Peggy not only explored what she calls "the premiere annuals" such as marigolds, zinnias, petunias, and pansies—plants that are still featured prominently in modern seed catalogs—but also discovered a roster of bygone annuals that failed to survive the test of time. To her surprise, the list of popular annuals has diminished rather than expanded over the years.
For example, every 19th-century catalog that she consulted featured Abronia, the sand verbena. "Native to California," she says, "they were funny little things that looked like verbenas blooming in rosy lilac or yellow. Every catalog began its offerings with Abronia, and yet you never see it listed any longer." Likewise, collinsias fell out of favor. Peggy describes these members of the snapdragon family from California as free-blooming annuals "that looked like lupines from a distance."
Why did these plants fail to endure? Peggy surmises that, although the flowers seemed perfectly worthy at first glance when they were discovered thriving in their native habitat, they didn't adapt well to gardens. She uses the sand verbena as an example. "Sand verbena was described as growing in the most barren sand hills and on the boulders of the Pacific Coast within a few feet of high water." Initially, sand verbena made a big splash. But gradually, it was abandoned when it failed to perform up to expectations elsewhere. "Seed didn't germinate well, and the plants never looked vigorous when grown on the East Coast. The Victorians tried in vain to grow the sand verbena, but it eventually slipped out of fashion." The harsh terrain of the Pacific Coast yielded some beauties, but who could construct a similar ecosystem?
Several California natives suffered a similar fate. Many hit the scene, made a dramatic entry, then fell out of popularity just as rapidly. Others lingered for a while. "There was a fascination with anything from the West," Peggy points out. "The literature was peppered with descriptions of the plants in the wild, and they were the stuff of daydreams, with images of brave new territories and romantic views of the Western expansion." The British were particularly keen on many of the annuals from the West. "Gilia capitata was introduced in 1833 and was highly esteemed in Britain by such garden experts as Jane Loudon, but never received a great deal of attention in the American trade," says Peggy.
Romantic Discoveries
Not all the newly introduced Westerners failed. One survivor is the California poppy (Eschscholzia californica), discovered by a Russian expedition in 1815 and named for the surgeon of the crew. The public warmed to romantic descriptions of discoveries. Peggy found this commentary on the initial sightings of California poppy in Harriet L. Keeler's Our Garden Flowers, written in 1810: "The early Spanish explorers sailing back and forth along the California coast noted the flame of the poppies along the hillsides coming down to the sea, and called the coast the Land of Fire." Burdened by a nearly unpronounceable (and definitely unspellable) botanical name, California poppy has nonetheless remained a premiere annual since 1860.
Discoveries were not confined to California. Drummond's phlox (Phlox drummondii), hailing from Texas, was collected by Thomas Drummond in 1835. Available in a variety of colors with various forms and several heights from dwarf on up, Drummond's phlox took the gardening world by storm. However, it performed half-heartedly in gardens on the East Coast and eventually moved into the realm of relative unknowns.
Trends were not necessarily the same on both sides of the ocean. Clarkia, named for Captain Clark of the Lewis and Clark Expedition, piqued interest in England due to the similarities between the British climate and that of the Pacific Coast. Double varieties appeared, several color forms were on the European market, and clarkia became a prominent cut flower. However, it sulked in the hot, dry summers typical of North America and was virtually ignored in this country.
The Whims of Fashion
Color preferences also had an impact on the history of annuals. Bright orange calendulas were more common in the 19th century than they are at present. The gangly, informal amaranths were more popular when gardens were inhabited by tall, floppy plants rather than the carefully clipped annuals of the 20th century. Fashion is everything in the garden, and the tides of flowers ebb and flow according to its changing whims.
The trend in sweet peas was for increased flower size and spire length on more compact vines. In the process, fragrance was forfeited. Says Peggy: "A lot of people lamented the loss of fragrance, but sweet peas still fell victim. Similarly, the aroma of mignonettes was reduced when they developed the giant-flowered types. And the original species snapdragon has a fine fragrance; when they bred bigger-blossomed and bicolored snapdragons, the fragrance was diminished."
Fragrance was not the only characteristic to go by the wayside. The older nasturtiums were grown as climbers with foliage that crept hither and yon. This changed with the development of compact forms. One early dwarf nasturtium was known as the Variegated Leaved Queen or Tom Thumb Chameleon.
Other annuals fell victim to disease rather than fashion. China aster (Callistephus chinensis) was discovered by a Jesuit missionary in Peking in the early 1730s. It was embraced, improved by hybridizers, and was "considered indispensable in parterres and carpet beds," says Peggy. She quotes James Vick, a nurseryman and garden writer who commented in 1865 that "no class of flowers has been so much improved within the past twenty years as this splendid genus, and none has advanced so rapidly in popular favor. They are now as double as the chrysanthemum or the dahlias, and almost as large and showy as the peony, and constitute the principle adornment of our gardens during the autumn months." Eventually, China asters succumbed to aster yellow. However, resistant varieties are staging a comeback.
Some annuals have not only endured, but also thrived. Nasturtiums, zinnias, marigolds, sweet peas, pansies, snapdragons, and petunias have remained staples—so far. These annuals gave birth to and nurtured the seed industry in this country. Sweet peas, for example, are credited with creating a fertile market for American seed houses. According to Peggy, "Joseph Breck and Sons was one of the first American enterprises to recognize and import the improved sweet peas, but W. Atlee Burpee and Company soon became a leader in seed distribution. California became a seed production center during the 1890s, primarily through the seed farms of C. C. Morse and Company of San Francisco. It was at the Morse farms that the type of plant from which Burpee's Cupid sweet peas were derived was developed. Cupid was introduced by Burpee in 1893 as the first dwarf, white-flowered sweet pea."
Over the years, zinnias were much improved. "The original zinnia was a muddy pale lavender in color, first illustrated in Curtis' Botanical Magazine in the 1790s," Peggy points out. Many years ensued before steps were taken toward the flower's betterment. In 1908, she notes, James Vick commented that it hadn't been long since zinnia was considered a coarse plant; but by then giant-flowered as well as dwarf varieties were available.
Despite the successes stories, however, fewer and fewer of the old-fashioned annuals survive. Every plant on the current list of favorites was on the market a century ago; the difference, as Peggy points out, is that "we've reduced our selection drastically." Gone or rarely grown are the candytufts, mignonettes, Mexican prickly pears, catchflies, and love-lies-bleeding of yesteryear. They might make a comeback, but they are all but forgotten at present.
As Director of the Thomas Jefferson Center for Historic Plants, Peggy Cornett is striving to preserve the antique flowers that have been lost or nearly lost.
Tovah Martin's interest in heirlooms began with indoor plants at Logee's Greenhouses in Danielson, Connecticut, where she spent more than 20 years caring for the vintage begonia collection. She is the garden editor of Victoria magazine and the Litchfield County Times. Her writing has appeared frequently in the Sunday New York Times, and she is the author of several gardening books, including Tasha Tudor's Garden (Houghton Mifflin Co., 1994). She is the guest editor of two previous BBG handbooks, Greenhouses and Garden Rooms (1989) and A New Look at Houseplants(1995).