Last year, I ripped out a burning bush (Euonymous alata) that had been on the property for years. It predated me and I was never certain if it was planted by my predecessors, or if, like so many of the burning bushes I see around the region, it was delivered as a seed by a bird. Although it is not native, burning bush has become a mainstay of the woodland edge in the region and makes itself known at this time of year by taking on its pistachio-shell fall color and illuminating the landscape.

I was pretty sure that removing the one from my house would not rid us of this invasive plant. In fact, I imagine the species will outlive me in the region by a few millennia – its common name seems to empower it with an almost biblical sense of the everlasting. And over that time, it may even co-evolve with other plants and animal species as the weather patterns change in the years ahead and become a part of the local ecosystem. Nevertheless, I felt it was the right thing to remove it. However, this fall I sure miss its vibrant red in my garden—it was an exceptional color, and I am working hard to find something that gives me a similar effect.

So often when we think of fall foliage, we primarily imagine the red and oranges of the oaks and sugar maples, which seem to be putting on their bright seasonal fall coats to garner all the attention of the leaf peepers. But this year, I am focused not on the mainstays of the season like the oaks and maples, but on the numerous shrubs and perennials that can accessorize the season, if you will. My eye is turned to the ground plane as I notice the wonderful tones of the golden yellow leaves of willow-leaved bluestar and the bright yellows and oranges of the Asian spicebush, both of which will fade to a soft tan over the winter and continue to animate the winter landscape. The six-foot shrub tall spicebush will enliven the garden all year long, as it holds its golden-brown winter leaves all the way until the time when its blue-green new leaves emerge in spring.

These shrubs and perennials remind me of the accessories that go with fall fashion – they are overlooked by the unknowing but used with great purpose by those in the know – and I hope in time that I will have given them the careful consideration they deserve in my garden. They sure can add a lot to the overall effect. The dark purple fall leaves of doublefile viburnum and crimson leaves of oakleaf hydrangea, the reds foliage of stewartias and fothergilla, and the brilliant yellow-toned leaves of sweetshrub and clethra are certainly as exciting as the burning bush. In fact, they can even hold a candle to a scarlet oak or a sugar maple when it comes to firepower.

Maybe the trick to invigorating the fall garden is not to focus on aggressive nonnatives, but to just accessorize with what already is in the landscape. And if I need a plant to bring this point home, there is nothing that makes the argument for the use of more natives than the American smokebush. While the Asian variety is known for its rich purple tones in the summer, Cotinus obovatus, the American smokebush, brings it home at the end of the season as if it is out to win the world series of fall foliage. Its yellow, orange, purple and red tones and large oval leaves have literally stopped traffic on our street as people hit the brakes to take in its fall glory. This may not seem like much but having the firepower to stop traffic in leaf season in the Berkshires when everything else is ablaze is a lot more interesting than the simple sighting of a burning bush.

____________________________________
A gardener grows through observation, experimentation, and learning from the failures, triumphs, and hard work of oneself and others. In this sense, all gardeners are self-taught, while at the same time intrinsically connected to a tradition and a community that finds satisfaction through working the soil and sharing their experiences with one another. This column explores those relationships and how we learn about the world around us from plants and our fellow gardeners.