ASTRANTIAS are deservedly popular but they merit a wider audience.
They may not be the most glorious performers, but good borders need a strong supporting cast of summer perennials to flatter the prima donnas, and astrantias will do just that.
A woodlander like the hellebore, fern and primula, its origins began in the Balkans and sub alpine meadows of the near east.
There, it endured competition from the tangled roots of scrub and other coarse vegetation, often hidden from direct sunlight.
As a result, its offspring will flourish in sombre garden areas overshadowed by houses, where the soil is often drained by the roots of self-sown sycamores and ash.
In other words, it can effectively partner hostas (for example) which, for all their apparent lushness, actually put up with whatever environment they find themselves in.
The astrantia flowers from spring, tiny blooms arranged on dainty disc-like heads.
Each flower seems to be little more than a tuft of stamens; at the base of each lies a starched ruff of stiff, pointed bracts-usually green tipped with a white, sometimes pink colour.
Each bloom is a posy in itself, made up of 20-30 bract tufts each measuring 3-4 inches across.
Half a dozen, picked with short stems, would look lovely in a vase, perhaps with a ground-work of ivy.
Quite indestructible and with pleasant foliage Astrantias blend happily with any society in which they find themselves.
One old country name for these is Hattie’s Pincushion, and the blooms do indeed look somewhat like pincushions with small umbels surrounded by conspicuous bracts.
Apart from ‘Ruby Wedding’ none are very distinct in colour and that, I suppose, is the reason for another old country name; Melancholy Gentleman.
They’re not melancholy however, not even sombre I suggest, but delicate in structure and colour, with a fine upright habit and smiling faces.
Finally, they’re particularly good value for another reason — they flower more than once in a season and their strong-shaped leaves are quite a feature in themselves.
