Why should a man die while sage grows in his garden?
The above saying, rendered in Latin as “Cur moriatur homo cui Salvia crescit in horto?”, dates from medieval times, and refers to the the supposed curative powers of Salvia officinalis - culinary sage. Euell Gibbons devoted a chapter of one his books to sage.
For gardeners of course, there are a vast number of Salvias with great garden appeal that goes well beyond culinary sage. Sometimes collecting and growing sages becomes an obsession, especially for those in favored climates who can grow species and cultivars native to Mexico, South America and mild regions of Asia.
New in the garden for 2023 is Salvia leucantha “Santa Barbara”, a compact bush sage. Taller sorts of S. leucantha have been occasional garden features, including last year when a late planting assumed a starring role in September through early October. I especially like the all-purple form known as “Midnight”, but it’s hard to find (the type with purple calyces and white flowers dominates the market).
Salvia guaranitica, sometimes called anise sage, is generally regarded as a tender or at best half-hardy perennial, suggested only for gardeners in zone 8 and warmer climates. Fortunately, the plant knows better, and will readily overwinter much further north (zone 6 in my experience) with adequate mulching, coming back from a woody semi-tuberous rootstock. What makes S. guaranitica special is its cobalt-blue flowers, produced prolifically from early summer through fall and a favorite of hummingbirds. Several cultivated forms exist, including the pale blue-flowered “Argentina Skies” and Salvia “Black and Blue”, which has essentially replaced the species in commerce. It has black calyces to complement the usual blue flowers, and seems to be about as hardy as the species. “Black and Bloom” is a dark-stemmed beauty with black calyces and blue flowers as seen below.
Both “Black and Bloom” and its cousin “Purple and Bloom” both have overwintered consistently here in my zone 6b Kentucky garden. “Purple and Bloom” seems a bit less vigorous. While “Black and Bloom” as of late June is two and a half feet tall and spreading out rapidly, only one of my three “Purple and Bloom” is anywhere close to that size; the two other plants emerged later and have been slow to catch up.
One of the biggest and most pleasant surprises in terms of hardiness is Salvia "Amistad". ‘Amistad” is a statuesque perennial (it has reached 6 feet in height for me) with rich purple flowers. The parent plant withstood two single digit-low winters here before finally succumbing to a December ‘22 freeze that bottomed out at -9F; fortunately I have small cutting-grown plants to use as replacements. ‘Amistad’ is conservatively estimated to be hardy no further north than zone 8, but ignores that published limitation if given full sun, well-drained soil and a thick layer of winter mulch.
2023 marks the start of my experiment with S. greggii hybrids that purportedly are hardy through zone 6. The most dependable of these is said to be “Furman’s Red”; “Raspberry Royale” is another hybrid I’m trialing. Most likely I’ll take cuttings of both in fall as insurance against unusual winter cold.
Another ornamental Salvia that ignores breeders’ sage advice on hardiness is S. "Rockin' Fuchsia", which, if you can excuse the name, makes a nice border accent. It is touted as hardy only to zone 9, but a sprout emerged this spring to pleasant consternation, and it’s on its way to making a stout specimen.
No attempts have been made to overwinter Salvia coccinea a.k.a. Texas sage or S. splendens (scarlet sage) in the ground, though I've made good use of both as annuals. S. splendens has gotten a bad rap as kind of a garden boor, flaunting its (usually) fire engine-red flowers in gas station planters and fast-food restaurant bedding to the disapproval of gardening cognoscenti. One of the most striking examples of pearl clutching when it comes to this plant appears in the otherwise excellent “Perennials for American Gardens” by Ruth Clausen and Nicolas Ekstrom. Their entry on S. splendens says “its limp, grass green foliage is ordinary and its flowers are strident in color. Not only ugly in its own right, it is often used in bedding schemes in insensitive and inappropriate combinations with Wax Begonias and Cannas.” My, my. Clausen and Ekstrom aren't too keen about cannas either, noting that “they should be used with restraint, as their lush flamboyance can be overpowering.” I've never been too worried about an overabundance of flamboyance, which is why my gardens typically feature loud-flowered cannas, insensitive schemers though they are. One year I grew an especially lurid red Salvia splendens, a 2-foot-tall beauty called “Whopper Lighthouse” which surely would have sent plant snobs reeling to their fainting couches.
No, if you simply must grow S. splendens, you're supposed to choose S. splendens van Houttei, a 4-foot form reputedly close to the original species, which draws descriptions like “graceful”, “restrained in bloom” and “draping”, meaning that it doesn't have many flowers and has a lax habit which may require staking. Still, the blooms it does provide are attractive (there are red and pink forms) and it’s a worthwhile collector’s plant. I've seen nice specimens grown in New Orleans.
I’ve raised more traditionally hardy Salvias like S. x superba hybrids and S. transylvanica. While they’ve done well at times, they haven’t consistently performed as well for me as their southern/South American counterparts, due to the most part to less than optimal siting and getting less attention than their allegedly tender relatives. It’s a deficiency I intend to remedy this year by raising a new generation of seed-grown hardy perennial Salvias, including forms of Salvia pratensis and Salvia x. superba.
I should admit that at times, my version of the ancient mantra is “Why should sage die in my garden?
I was reflecting on this recently at a plant nursery, while battling the temptation to try yet again to grow S. officinalis "Berggarten". I have logged several failures over the years with this ornamental, large ovoid-leafed sage cultivar. It doesn’t make sense, since I know I had success with the plant once upon a time, but I haven’t been able to recreate the conditions which made it thrive. It should be simple - provide full sun, good drainage (prolonged winter dampness is especially to be avoided) and enough water during the growing season to keep the soil from completely drying out. At least a couple of times the reasons for failure have been obvious - the plant was crowded out by neighbors, partially shaded, or wasn’t given enough water while it was becoming established. On other occasions, it dwindled and gave up the ghost for no apparent reason. Now, I am not one of those people who dodges culpability for gardening failures by protesting lack of a “green thumb” (a euphemism for not bothering to learn what makes a particular plant thrive), but the mystery of why “Berggarten” won’t survive in my garden remains. Ultimately, I decided against another attempt, settling instead on another culinary variety, the clumsily named “Grower's Friend”, which is said to be easy to grow (uh-huh), seldom flowers and is productive of broad, flavorful leaves, attaining an ultimate spread of up to three feet. Time will ultimately tell, but so far, so good.
Additional reading:
“A Book of Salvias” (1997) by Betsy Clebsch is a comprehensive guide to Salvias species, cultivars and hybrids with excellent descriptions and good photos. The author’s California location means that her experiences are in a mild climate with infrequent, light frosts, which may explain her overly conservative estimates on hardiness.
“The Gardener’s Guide to Growing Salvias” (1999) by John Sutton presents a similarly comprehensive, British point of view of gardening with these plants. Photos are of better quality than in the Clebsch book. There’s a brief section on gardening with Salvias in North America, Australia and New Zealand.
“Armitage’s Manual of Annuals, Biennials and Half-Hardy Perennials (2001) has a good section on Salvias. The author’s base at the University of Georgia in Athens means there’s a somewhat southern-tinged outlook to his views and advice. Of the three books listed here, this one probably is most useful for gardeners in the upper South, Midwest, and Northeast.