There’s a moment in every garden when the season pivots—not by calendar date, but by feel. And here at Natchez Glen, we’re right in the heart of that pivot. I call it the Summer Turn. It’s the moment when spring’s last breath collides with the full exuberance of summer. And nothing announces it quite like the Rudbeckia maxima.
These exuberant yellow dancers float above the garden like living brushstrokes. Mesmerizing. Tall, charismatic, whimsical in the wind. Some stand proudly while others bend and billow, bowing to the earth. And the ones that fall? They’re perfect for cut flowers. Their stems are strong and architectural, rising above the other blooming perennials in just the right way. Yesterday, I watched eight goldfinches—yes, eight—flitting around them, waiting for the seeds to ripen. They’re not quite ready yet, but the birds are checking in daily, probably tweeting about it on their own bird social media network.
Also blooming right now are Stachys—or as it’s now reclassified, Betonica. If you’re a gardener, you’ve probably heard of Lamb’s Ear. That’s Stachys too, but from a different species entirely. The two varieties I grow most here are ‘Summer Crush’ and ‘Summer Romance’. One has soft, pink-white blushy tones; the other blooms in a striking purple-violet. The contrast between them is just spectacular. I’ve especially loved the way some daylilies have started to complement these tones, and as I walk the garden during this Summer Turn, I’ve already made a mental note to plant more daylilies next year to enhance those color plays.
Daylilies are truly fantastic plants. We’ve had a wet spring in Tennessee, and they’re thriving in the moisture. Cultivated daylily varieties really appreciate the right kind of moisture at the right time. Yes, I’ve had some deer browse them, but it’s not a crisis—just two groupings, and even then, they didn’t take all the buds. Hopefully next year will be drier, and my repellent spray will stick around. And maybe, just maybe, that deer will realize that Natchez Glen isn’t the place to hang out—because there’s some guy here who gardens all day.
Those deer anecdotes are part of the experience. Sure, it’s frustrating to lose a bloom or two. But it’s also a story you get to tell—one your friends at brunch probably don’t have. That’s gardening. That’s summer.
Frosted Layers and Wild Energy
The Mountain Mint layer is coming in strong now, giving us this incredible frosty white presence. I favor the more elegant, fine-foliaged varieties like Pycnanthemum tenuifolium and Pycnanthemum flexuosum. They’re both exceptional. I do grow the more commonly found Pycnanthemum muticum, which was named the 2024 Perennial Plant of the Year by the Perennial Plant Association. And yes, it’s gorgeous, pollinator-friendly, and a native powerhouse. But in a garden setting? It’s wildly ambitious. I’ve watched it completely engulf a dahlia and even overtake a peony—all in about 30 days.
That’s not to say it isn’t a worthy plant, but know what you’re planting. Muticum needs management. It’s a sprawler and a competitor. In contrast, Pycnanthemum flexuosum—which is rarer and harder to find—is by far the best-behaved Mountain Mint in my garden. Different look, same minty pollinator buzz, but much more respectful to its neighbors.
Gray Coneflowers and the Dance of Place
The Gray Coneflower (Ratibida pinnata) is also starting to show itself in the borders. This plant is the opposite of the daylily. It loves bad soil. It prefers the edges—literally. I find its seedlings popping up not in the nutrient-rich heart of the borders, but along the cuts and edges, where the soil is leaner and harsher. It’s a plant that thrives in adversity.
This year, with the extra moisture, it’s having a mixed performance. In some spots, it’s flourishing—voluminous and bold. In others, it’s lighter, more feathery, not quite the same exuberant presence. Still, its weeping parasols of golden-yellow are a perfect visual counterpoint to the upright drama of the Rudbeckia maxima.
Gray Coneflower also seeds freely. And each year, I edit it back—it’s a designer’s choice, really. How much of this wild golden presence do you want? If you cut it back hard, deep into the stems and close to the base, it will re-bloom pretty reliably in my region. But part of me always wants to leave just enough for the goldfinches. And trust me, they’ll thank you for it.
Here’s a fun fact: the color of a goldfinch’s feathers is directly influenced by its diet. If you want the most vibrant, swagger-filled finches on the block, plant Rudbeckia maxima and Gray Coneflower. It’s their favorite meal—and their secret to that unbeatable golden plumage.
The Summer Turn Is About More Than Plants
The Summer Turn isn’t just a shift in bloom. It’s a shift in energy, in mood, in light. It’s the moment the garden becomes a little wilder, more sun-drenched, more alive. At Natchez Glen, it’s about watching, editing, and listening. It’s about knowing when to let a plant go rogue and when to step in. It’s about the stories we get to tell—not just about the flowers, but the goldfinches, the deer, and the way we gardeners get to experience summer in ways no one else quite can.
So, wherever your garden is today, take a moment. Notice what’s moving. What’s turning. That’s the magic of this moment.