Zinnia seed inventory

This afternoon I tallied my seeds to make certain I had everything I needed for 2021, particularly zinnias. They are the backbone of the flower farm from late June until frost, the focal flowers that carry every piece, whether there are dahlias and roses or not. It’s the zinnias that keep an arrangement grounded, that fill it with color. They are the gluten. Without them, I would have no confidence as a designer.

This past year, seed crops and shipping times have been less certain than ever, so I ordered earlier than usual. And when that batch of Benary’s Giant ‘Salmon Rose’ that I ordered in December arrives, my inventory will be complete.

Zinnias mean summer and every good thing I associate with my childhood summers: no school, weekly trips to the library, the ice cream lady, kittens, the swimming pool, long evenings and endless play with my twin sister. Mom got us started planting flowers in summer 1968, before kindergarten. I chose nasturtiums, but Erin chose large-flowered bright yellow zinnias, and I got hooked.

Certain varieties, including some newer ones, dazzle me. Here are some of my favorites, the ones I find most versatile and wouldn’t do without.

‘Queen Red Lime’—I am mesmerized by the color range and antique shading of the Red Lime, and because I am not practiced at discussing the flavors of wine, I struggle with this description. It blends muddy rose and blackberry and deep red, with the touch of lime, distinctive of the Queen series, that offsets the predominant color perfectly. I have grown this variety for three seasons and have had some blooms come in spectacularly muddy and antiqued. This chameleon color can pull in too-bright pink or wine-colored flowers I might otherwise struggle to use, and it works beautifully with Phlox ‘Cherry Caramel’ and a hundred other flowers, including the soft blush and burgundy schemes that are still asked for in the Midwest.

‘Queen Lime Orange’—I can see why this one is an All-America Selection. The flowers are large, and you can practically taste the color, which functions as peach but spans the spectrum to coral and soft orange, with that deep rosy-red center, same as ‘Queen Red Lime’.

‘Oklahoma Ivory’—The gorgeous beehive shape of the blooms in the Oklahoma series gives variety to bouquets and reminds me of the little ‘Sunbow’ zinnias I love. I favor soft yellow, and the buttercream shade of the Ivory can liven up white bouquets or blend with other warm shades.

Benary’s Giant ‘Salmon Rose’—I plan for a strong apricot palette on the flower farm throughout the season and seek out anything in the apricot range. ‘Salmon Rose’ comes closest in the zinnia category, varies in color and plays well with others. This past summer some of the plants in the patch threw soft peach flowers, beautifully double, so I saved several for seed (including the single most spectacular bloom) to see what might happen when I plant them this year. They may or may not produce more peach blooms, and that’s part of the magic.

‘Golden Hour’—Introduced last year by Floret, this variety has a color like no other zinnia: a very warm, soft peachy gold that goes with just about everything and reminds me a little of the “Peace Yellow” paint color in the Sherwin-Williams historic color palette. Last year I ordered several packets and saved one back, on a hunch, and I’m glad because Floret didn’t have sufficient inventory to offer it this year. I had a lot of singles in the patch I planted last year, but everyone was drawn to them nevertheless.

And for the first time this year, I’ll plant Floret’s Little Flower Girl Mix, which has just come out. I snapped up 20 packets and look forward to working with these soft pastel lavender-pink and peachy zinnias.

All of the varieties I’ve listed in this note will throw double, semidouble and single blooms in the patch, and they are all useful. This unpredictability is part of their appeal as garden flowers.

For several years, my sister saved seed from succeeding generations of zinnias beginning with ‘Oklahoma Pink’; by the fourth year she had a sunset-colored flower that retained the full beehive shape of the Oklahoma varieties, and I used it in an October wedding. She got busy with school that fall and regrets letting the experiment go, but we are planning to start over this year—nothing tightly controlled in our growing, just play.