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PLECTRANTHUS

AUTUMN HAS ITS perks. Take plectranthus, for example. I’ve always had an affinity for plectranthus. Although some people might simply see plectranthus as texturally tricked-out close cousins to coleus (solenostemon), I’ve always stood in awe of their finery (if you discount Swedish ivy, Plectranthus verticillatus, which is devoid of any redeeming qualities whatsoever). Otherwise, these plants have great foliage, are easy to cultivate, and burst into flower in autumn when most bloomers are winding down. Compared to other houseplants with fewer virtues, plectranthus are quite a promising package.

I was going to say that the curtain rises for plectranthus in autumn, but I stopped myself short. After all, most plectranthus do a valiant job of entertaining throughout the year. Plectranthus amboinicus is a case in point. We’re talking 2- to 3-inch (5–8cm) wide, rounded leaves covered in soft, strokeable velveteen. Each leaf is thick, like a succulent (which might account for the plant’s ability to endure long periods without water) and the pea-green color of the species is pleasant enough to look upon, but all sorts of gold, cream, and darker green variegated cultivars exist to add intrigue. As it turns out, the flowers are nothing to applaud and are best removed, but other Plectranthus species put more emphasis in their blossoms, which often gear up when the days begin to shorten.

A stellar example is Plectranthus oertendahlii. Where would I be without this plant? I tuck it in the base of potted trees, I use it as “socks and shoes” (I believe Brent and Becky Heath of Brent and Becky’s Bulbs in Gloucester, Virginia, coined that phrase) beneath all sorts of plants that are all stem and lack interest down below. Unlike Plectranthus amboinicus, which grows upright, Plectranthus oertendahlii swoops down on graceful arching stems. Although there is some diversity in this species from nursery to nursery, I opt for versions that have silver-marked veins on each forest-green leaf and deep-burgundy undersides. After the initial investment, no need to spend again. I break off a stem and propagate my own for more of a good thing. As if all that wasn’t enough, Plectranthus oertendahlii adds long sprays of little off-white, guppy-like blossoms in the fall. It sort of puts autumn on the map.

Even more impressive is Plectranthus hilliardiae, a handsome plant throughout the year with plush, deep-green, serrated-edged leaves accented by dark purple undersides. With only minimal pinching, you can achieve a chubby silhouette (and the ability to form a nicely rounded specimen without a whole lot of effort is a trait of this genus). In Plectranthus hilliardiae’s case, you wouldn’t want to pinch past midsummer, because you’d curtail flower production—and that’s really what Plectranthus hilliardiae throws its strength into. Long, bluish-purple, oboe-shaped blossoms with speckles in the throat begin to develop as the days shorten. However, Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden in South Africa did some complex hybridizing on this species and achieved a cultivar called ‘Mona Lavender’ that blooms through summer and spends its days smothered in flower spires.

There are other species around, and most are worth enlisting into your indoor arena. Whether you’re adopting the velvety silver-leaved Plectranthus argentatus or the wonderfully pungent-smelling Vick’s plant, you can’t really go wrong. Unfortunately, the nomenclature is a disaster for this genus, but what’s in a name? Go with whatever package you find attractive. Most plectranthus grow rapidly, are trouble free, tolerate low light and drought, and look stunning. There is one sticky wicket in the group, and it is Plectranthus thyrsoideus. It is crowned by ravishing spires of sailor-blue blossoms in the dead of winter, making it infinitely tempting. However, it is a stinker to grow (and speaking of smell, the foliage is also unpleasantly scented—moldy comes to mind). Without bright light (of the intensity you are not likely to secure in winter), this plant melts into a fungus-riddled mush. Plus, whiteflies are attracted like magnets. Most other members of the genus are just the opposite. Sure, they might be slightly more compact with bright light, but they don’t demand it. And all make stellar, low-maintenance container foliage plants when summer rolls around.

• ALSO CALLED: Mexican mint, Spanish thyme