The Little Sea Lavender that Could

 Sea lavender, Argusia gnaphalodes, is taking over my backyard. Its spread from a miserable, near leafless stick into a 15 x15-foot clump is impressive, to say the least. It's all-the-more worthy of admiration because it has survived storm surges from hurricanes Ian (2022), and Helene and Milton in 2024, without missing a beat.

The plant produces whorls of long gray-green, narrow, felty, slightly spoon-shaped leaves at the ends of its stems, which in time may grow upright, reach horizontally, or curve back down to the ground.  New leaves are held vertically, while older ones assume a more-horizontal posture, and still older ones hang down vertically. As the branch extends, lower leaves die, but still persist, giving the bare, dead-looking branches a sort of stark, unworldly presence.  Leaf-producing parts of the stem are pale yellow-green, while the older, lower stems turn gray or dark brown, and can look quite dead. New growth is soft, but older stems and branches are hard and brittle.  As the stems grow, they may shade out those below them, leading to gaps. This is more pronounced on the north-facing side of the plant. The other sides are more compact, so the across-canal neighbors have a fuller, tidier view than I do. 

 I liked the way the lower branches drooped and curved to make a series of "secret" rooms - great hiding places for small animals - including small children. I think of the forts we could have made way back when. For a long time a mockingbird took advantage of the shelter - foraging on the ground nearby and darting under the branches when it felt threatened. But now it's looking pretty unkempt on "my" side, so I really have to do something to restore it to the insanely beautiful shrub it used to be. It's gotten so big that it keeps me from checking the seawall, and is blocking access to an electrical outlet.

 

 

 When I first set out to impose some discipline I found myself loathe to lop. One branch had too many flowers to discard, while another was full of buds, and yet another was just too plain pretty. Also, I don't have the heart to punish something that is so obviously suited to the climate of coastal SW Florida, which is horticulturally inhospitable to so many plants. It's not blooming much now, so I am forcing myself to be hardhearted enough to prune even the less bedraggled parts.

The leaves are so densely hairy that they look quite different according to the light and time of day. In the soft light of late afternoon they take on a distinctly blueish cast. On overcast days they are gray-green. In direct sunlight they can be blindingly silver. They are nearly impossible to photograph with a point-and-shoot camera in full sunlight because the reflection makes the shot over-exposed.

 

Argusia with Opening Flower Buds

It flowers and fruits throughout the year, but most heavily in fall, winter and spring. The flowering arrangement (inflorescence) in botanical terms is a "helicoid cyme." The tightly curled developing inflorescence looks a little like a fern fiddlehead. The inflorescence gradually unfolds as the buds mature and bloom. Flowers are white, and with age develop purplish coloration in their throats. They are very faintly fragrant. The common name, "sea lavender," comes from the similarity to lavender leaf color, not the fragrance. Immature fruit is yellow-green. It turns black or brown as it ages. Fruits are a hard dark, dry structure called a schizocarp.

The singular habit and beauty of Argusia gnaphalodes makes it not one of my favorite native plants, but one of my favorite plants, period. A lot of new gardeners in south Florida experience great frustration.  It's too bad most of them aren't aware of the beauty and practicality of many native plants, and remain frustrated in their attempts to overcome insect and disease problems afflicting many popular exotics. Many of these plants are unsuited to south Florida's drastic rainfall fluctuations and either drown in the summer while they need extensive irrigation in the winter. Argusia gnaphalodes would not thrive in areas of south Florida with poor drainage, but there isn't a better choice for a dry, sandy site with little organic material.