If you don’t know a wildflower's name, aster!

There are, according to Minnesota Wildflowers, some nineteen varieties of asters in Minnesota. About half of those are listed as being found in Chisago County. Most of them are listed as blooming in late summer through mid-autumn and many of them are happier in moist soils. Those of us living at the eastern edge of the Anoka sand plain, right on the border between USDA hardiness zones 4a and 4b, have more places with well-drained, sandy soils than with moisture. We’ve found five aster species that look promising. Since the local roadsides have what appear to be sky-blue asters growing, we’re planning on getting half a dozen or so to plant on the slope or hilltop behind the house. It’s unclear so far if we’re doing a fall 2021 or a spring 2022 planting. We need to try a new approach since the New England asters we’ve planted out front each of the past three years have failed to survive the winter. Wish us luck, please.

Sky-blue Aster (Symphyotrichum oolentangiense)

Photo by J. Harrington

Symphyotrichum oolentangiense (Sky-blue Aster)	part shade, sun; dry sandy or rocky soil; prairies, savannas, open woods, woodland edges
Symphyotrichum ciliolatum (Lindley's Aster)	part shade, sun; open woods, woodland edges, fields, roadsides
Symphyotrichum laeve (Smooth Blue Aster)	sun; dry; fields, prairies, open woods
Symphyotrichum sericeum (Silky Aster)	part shade, sun; dry sandy or rocky soil; prairies, outcrops, open woods, dunes, barrens
Symphyotrichum urophyllum (Arrowleaf Aster)	part shade, sun; dry to average sandy or rocky soil; open woods, woodland edges, savanna, glades, grassy railroads, bluffs

(Please forgive us for the pun in the title, we couldn't resist.)

The Flower Press

By Chelsea Woodard

It was the sort of thing given to little girls:

sturdy and small, round edged, wooden and light.

I stalked the pasture’s rough and waist-high grass

for worthy specimens: the belle amid the mass,

the star shaming the clouds of slighter,

ordinary blooms. The asters curled

inside my sweat-damp palms, as if in sleep. Crushed

in the parlor’s stifling heat, I pried

each shrinking petal back, and turned the screws.

But flowers bear no ugly bruise,

and even now fall from the brittle page, dried

prettily, plucked from memory’s hush.

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