The Japanese custom of showcasing one piece of art at a time in a special niche was probably rooted in observations of nature. Some plants command center stage for a week or a month, then fade into the background as the seasons unfold.
A native bulb that peaks as spring moves into summer, and that can fit into almost any garden, is soap plant. Most of the year, its wavy-edged strappy leaves hug the ground. Then, in mid to late spring, it begins sending up a thin stalk that can reach anywhere from 2 to 8 feet high (it's 4 feet high in my garden, and 3 feet across at the widest part). Delicate branches emerge from the stem, then buds start fattening up and elongating on the branches. The airy stem adds a subtle vertical element to the garden.
Depending on your microclimate, the buds begin opening in late spring or early summer. At a flat San Jose site, the blooming begins around Memorial Day each year; in Palo Alto, a couple miles from the bay, it's a couple weeks later. The flowering continues for several weeks, and in cooler areas, it may be blooming as late as August. Each flower lasts less than a day, opening from late afternoon to early evening, ready to greet you as you return from work, and closing by midnight.
And here's the stunning part: you can tell time by the opening of the first flower each day! Patrick Pizzo, who discovered this, tends a bunch of soap plants in San Jose. He boasts “a 5:33 p.m., a 5:45 p.m., and two 6:01 p.m.'s in [his] collection”; I have a 6:12 p.m. Typically, only a few flowers from the bottom of the panicle open the first few afternoons. As the season progresses, dozens burst into bloom each afternoon, starting at the same time each day. It takes a half hour or so for each day's flowers to open – a dramatic event worth seeing.
Each white flower has 6 thin, curved petals (technically, 3 petals and 3 sepals), suggesting frothiness from a distance. Close up, you can see the purple or green midveins on the flowers and the prominent yellow to orange stamens. Backlit by the sun, the flowers look like snowflakes suspended in midair.
As the flowers open, pollinators appear. At one site in San Jose that had more than a dozen plants in bloom, there seemed to be more bees than flowers. In my garden fat bumblebees as well as tiny native bees and wasps are drawn to the flowers. Other growers have observed moths and butterflies around the flowers.
Though I favor a site where shafts of late afternoon sun illuminate the flowers, soap plant accepts full sun to light shade and adapts to many types of soil. It is drought tolerant but accepts occasional water. I've planted one bulb as a centerpiece in a bed of culinary herbs, between a lavender that gets no water and some garlic chives that get watered a couple times a week. It's ideal in the splotchy sun under native oaks and in narrow spaces, and it would be lovely next to a patio that's used in the evening. Be sure to allow a foot or two on each side for the panicle.
When the flowering is done, I like to collect the seeds before cutting the stalk to the ground, allowing the soap plant to once again become background.
Why is it called soap plant?
California Indians used soap plant (Chlorogalum pomeridianum) in many ways. It was harvested using a digging stick to get most of the useful part of the bulb, while leaving behind the root crown to regenerate new plants. The raw root was used both medicinally (to repel lice, as a dandruff shampoo, and to help soothe poison ivy rashes) and as a soap for body, hair, utensils, and clothing. As one of many types of underground plant parts called “Indian potatoes,” the cooked root was eaten. The cluster of stiff fibers at the top of the bulb was made into hair brushes and scrub brushes. The cooked starch was also used to seal baskets and to glue together fibers to make brushes. For winter, the bulbs were dried and stored.
© 2009 Tanya Kucak