Ferns... Forever

Do you keep identification tags for the plants in your garden? I must confess that I do not, and I have found that to be a bit of a mistake. Relying on memory or trying to identify a plant I have inherited poses problems. With Ferns, ancient plants that are among the oldest on Earth, this is definitely the case. I have come to realize that there is no way I know the names of the Ferns I enjoy most in my garden.

Like other gardeners, I easily identify the Japanese Painted Fern, thanks to its unusual coloration. I can spy its muted pink, lavender, and silvery good looks from a distance, and I am confident I can name it with accuracy. But there are others with remarkable coloration, and I know I cannot name them with the same sort of ease. These include the dark and dramatic ‘Aubergine Lady’, said to be the darkest of the Lady Ferns. A new cultivar, Aubergine Lady is not yet in my garden, but it is on my radar. 

I grow Lady Ferns and find them to be easy-care and attractive. Some of my inherited plants are Lady Ferns, Athyrium filix-femina. These are the very pretty and feathery plants that have almost a magical glow to them when dappled sunlight hits them just a bit from time to time. In my garden, it is sunset when they become slightly backlit and even more magical than they typically are in the shade they love so much.

To plant one of the Lady Ferns, the key is to get its crown sitting just level with the soil. Soil should be rich and moist but should drain well. These graceful plants like lower light, good moisture, humidity. They are perfect for woodland garden patches.

But back to my confusion: Some of the plants I used to think were Lady Ferns turned out to be Marginal Wood Ferns, Dryopeteris marginalis. These grow quite large near stone walls, in rock gardens, and along slopes that get moist and then dry out. In my region, Marginal Wood Ferns are semi-evergreen, whereas the deciduous Lady Ferns are sure to die back after the first frost—the main factor that helps me to distinguish one from the other.

Then there are the deciduous Ostrich Ferns which do well at a pond’s edge or other wet area. I always have to remind myself that these have a vase-like shape as they fill out. Identifying these by their fronds and pinnae is of little help to me, but looking at their overall shape does indeed help me to identify them.

Both Ostrich and Lady Ferns can be planted in fall or spring. If you prepare yourself for the fact that they will look tired and wilted when first dug in or relocated, you will reap the beauty that lies ahead. These plants need time to acclimate to their new environments. But after a day or two of looking stressed, they will perk up and show their true form. 

I am not always generous with the care and proper positioning of my Ferns. I let them fare for themselves. But they are consistently generous with me. Each time I snip flowers for a bouquet, I snip a large frond to act as greenery amid the flowers. These healthy plumes look good for days beyond the time the cut flowers have faded. When I dry flowers and greenery for craft projects, I find that Ferns are an absolute necessity for jazzing up paper-based projects such as stationery-making. And in the garden, they can look fancy, modern, or as though you just happened to come upon them during a woodland stroll. All of this depends on their setting and the plantings you have around them. 

You may agree with me when I say that Ferns are almost indispensable in a garden. The different Ferns have different preferences for positioning and for light and moisture levels, but all are easy to grow. Now, for someone who loves them so, you’d think I would be able to name each and every one of the Ferns in my garden without issue. Not so, unfortunately. (Oh, how I wish I had kept their identification tags or had asked more about the ones I inherited.) But accurately named or not, these ancient plants fall somewhere near the top of my list of favorites. They may do the same on your list, as well.