Five Annual Vines

I really like annual vines. I use them to dress up the bars on the basement window, decorate a trellis, and festoon my twiggy teepee. I grow them for scent and color. They add a little sparkle to the staid background of perennials and shrubs. Annual vines are the accessories of the garden world; they can be mixed with your basics to create a new look with no commitment. Presented here, is a review of the five common annual vines I grew from seed this year.

Sweet Peas. I had a little trouble getting the seeds going. Those I direct sowed did poorly. For successful germination, I soaked the seeds overnight and then sowed them in containers. Once they had a few true leaves, I transplanted them around the base of the teepee. The twiggy structure was too coarse for the pea’s tendrils to grasp, so I had to tie them to the branches with strips of pantyhose. As I was anxiously awaiting my first sniff of sweet pea perfume, the vines seemed to grow oh-so-slowly. By June, they had reached about 2.5 feet and began blooming. The scent was absolutely as promised and the bright colors were a bonus. Although I did not deadhead, and I’ve read that sweet peas have a horror of hot, humid summers, they furiously bloomed until late August. The vines died with the last of the flowers in September. I collected plenty of seeds for next year. I will definitely grow sweet peas again for those three months of incredible blooms.

Black-Eyed Susan Vine. I grew a variety of black-eyed susan vine last year (Blushing Susie) and was underwhelmed. The flowers were small and sparse. This year, I planted the species and it was much more vigorous. I had success with both direct sowing and starting seeds in containers. I direct sowed some seeds along the wire fence on the NE side of our front yard. With only four hours of direct sunlight and no care from me, they did very well. The cheerful flowers both climbed the fence and scrambled along as a groundcover. I also grew a few plants on the teepee. Although they grew to greater heights and had more sun than the flowers along the fence, they did not flower as profusely. I’ve seen this vine absolutely smothered in flowers in other places in the city, so I believe there is some culture trick that I’m missing. I may try growing BES vine through my butterfly bushes next year, so that the golden yellow flowers contrast with the plum plumes.

Cardinal Vine. Although they don’t look it, cardinal vine is a close relative to morning glory (both in the genus Ipomoea, along with sweet potatoes and moon flower). I was seduced by the seed packet’s bright red flowers and the promise of attracting hummingbirds. The seeds are germinated just like morning glory: nick the seed coat and soak in water overnight. Again, I had more success with growing the seedlings in a container and transplanting than direct sowing. (I suspect that my clay soil is slow to warm up in the spring.) I grew the vine in a container (climbing a trellis) and up the teepee. I liked the foliage more than the flowers. The leaves have a graceful, feathery appearance. I think they would mix nicely if woven into a coarser-leaved shrub. The flowers were a gorgeous scarlet, but very small and not numerous enough to make an impact. Like morning glories, the flowers faded by late morning. I never saw a hummingbird feed from this vine. (They seemed to prefer the sweet peas.) If I grow this again, I will try growing it through a shrub or mixed with other vines.

Morning Glory. This is the second year that I’ve grown these annoyingly reseeding plants. I wised up and grew a single specimen, in a pot, surrounded by concrete in the basement stairwell (aka the pit of despair). The vine’s purpose was to camouflage the bars on the basement window. It did a nice job and produced pretty blossoms to boot. The plant also proved itself quite tolerant of drought, as I often forgot to water it. I will use it in exactly the same manner next year, but maybe I’ll give it a bigger pot.

Moon Flower. I had a difficult time getting my seeds to germinate. Direct sowing was an absolute failure. When sown in a container, I had only a 50% success rate. Of the two resulting vines, I planted one on the SW side of the front porch and the other on the SW side of the back deck. Both vines grew well with little care. I’ve read online that the wait for flowers from this vine can be long. I wondered if I’d have any at all, since my seeds didn’t even get going until May. On the last day of September, my first flower opened. I missed the actual event by what must have been only minutes, as I spotted the flower in early evening. This is another flower I had grew purely for scent, so I eagerly bent my head over the bloom and sniffed, expecting the heady perfume described by others. Unfortunately, I found the scent very faint, but pleasant. (At least it didn’t smell like Mexican food.) I probably should have sniffed again at midnight, when I suppose its pollinators were abroad, but I didn’t try again until morning, with the same disappointing result. I’ll try the sniff test with the next flower, and I also intend to catch it in the opening act. I am undecided on whether I’ll plant this vine again next year. Without a captivating scent, the plant unfortunately reminds me of another morning glory relative, bindweed (not in the genus Ipomoea, but in the same family).

Overall, I love annual vines. They are usually inexpensive and colorful. I’ll continue to grow them because I’m the type of girl who loves to pile on scarves and dangly earrings. Any suggestions for next season’s garden accessories?