A dozen years ago I began an affaire de florale that has continued ever since, though not without a few second thoughts. I recall my love-at-first sight of her as though it was yesterday. She was stunning, standing there so erect and proud, a lithe willowy dancer backlit by the late afternoon sun. With her tousled blond top aglow and flowing in the gentle breeze, her beauty was exquisite. She put me in mind of an egret lifting her head to the sky or Princess Grace in a svelte gown turning oh so slightly to look my way. I was in love, shot through with passion. I had succumbed to the seductive charms of the Plume Poppy, though at the time I didn’t know her name or her proclivities. Little did I know what was to befall me.

If you are thinking about having a Plume Poppy in your garden, try googling it first. When you do you may have an experience not unlike having an actual plume poppy in your garden. Initially I got 84,000 hits in 0.17 seconds. I checked out a couple of the references and then glanced at the counter again. Now there were more than 300,000 hits. That’s akin to the habits of the plant itself: if you turn your back on it even for a second or two there will be at least three or four more of them. You can almost hear them saying: “He won’t notice, and besides, we’re sooo lovely.” More on this later; for now, just think dandelions or bamboo, or both.

You’ll discover that the Plume poppy, or Macleaya cordata, is an Asian immigrant. It’ s also known as Tree Celandine. Why I’m not sure. I’m also not sure if anyone knows exactly how it got here, but it isn’t difficult to figure out why, some smitten smuggler was taken in by its singular appearance, its truly outrageous gorgeousness. It is one of those plants that can’t be mistaken for anything else and it certainly isn’t inconspicuous. It is definitely not a shrinking violet.




Plume Poppies are statuesque and regal. They are also vigorous and rapid-growing. After a soaking Spring rain and a couple of days of warm weather, grab a lawn chair, a G&T, then just sit and watch; they will practically extend before your eyes. The leaves are a soft green color, and, technically, lobate in appearance. Yet as you look at them, with their silvery, furry undersides the leaves seem more like hands lifting to face the sun. The petioles, or leaf stems, are silky, v-shaped and pale pink with small rounded teeth on their edges. The strong vertical stems of the Plume Poppy give it a stalwart architectural character. Smooth in texture, and steely in color, they too are shot through with a faint blush of pink.















Throughout the season the Plume Poppies will grow taller and taller, often reaching heights of nearly ten feet under ‘ideal’ conditions, though they usually average about six or seven feet. As if this was not enough, add to the foliage and structure a wonderfully decorative tassel of white-turning-to-blush flowers. As the season nears its end, delicate pea pod-shaped seed envelopes replace the flowers and as they dry, they will whisper and chatter in the fall breezes. All in all the Plume Poppy is truly among the most stately perennials. But this glorious beauty comes at some cost. Not in dollars, but in time, energy and frustration. Think dandelions or bamboo, or both.

That first year of my affair I finally cut down my rangy Plume Poppy in early October; it was eight feet tall. I had let it run its course from sprout to seed. The first thing I noticed was that is was more than an inch in diameter and nearly as tough as bamboo. The next season, my first plume poppy had been joined by at least two dozen cousins, or other relatives. Being lazy and other wise occupied, I let them go. By the third season I had a plume poppy patch of at least a hundred plants; they had taken over a space nearly 20 by 20 and seemed to be sending out missionaries to colonize every other planting bed on the property. Do you recall the admonition to “be fruitful and multiply”.

Each April I admire the beauty of the Plume Poppies as they practically scramble to raise themselves out of the ground. Their pale green shoots are unmistakable. And everywhere there is a shoot there is a root, or roots. Some are as thick as a hose. The roots fan out generally only in one direction but they can be as long as the plant is tall. At several points along these root, new stems will arise. Each of these is capable of pushing out another root in yet another direction. As the plants age, the stems thicken just below the surface and become woody. Of course some of the new plants have arisen from seeds as well. In any case, I dig up as many as I can find, but they are everywhere; and the roots break easily.




Whatever you do, don’t try to diminish the quantity of Plume Poppies by merely pulling them out as though they are ordinary “weeds”. What makes eradicating or even controlling the plume poppy difficult, is that even a small section of root, if chopped or broken off and left in the soil, will invariably send up a new stem. So you must get out the entire root. In this regard, the plant is similar to Japanese Knotweed. Even the smallest fragment is capable of creating a whole new plant. Remember the broom in the Sorcerer’s Apprentice? I have managed to keep the plants at bay, but only slightly. Invariably, there are escapees and colonists. I repeat my digging procedure in June.

I wouldn’t mind the profusion, the sheer masses of Plume Poppies if they had any other qualities or features that made them worthwhile other than looking terrific. But as far as I can tell and from all of the sources I have checked, the plume poppy doesn’t seem to have any particular use as food or medicine. I don’t think any part of the plant is edible, yet, on the other hand, none of it is toxic. It does, according a couple of sources contain some potentially useful extracts, but not in any quantity worth harvesting. Though the sap from the stem might provide a good orange dye or stain, it has no other use. You can’t grind their roots up for flour, or pluck their leaves or stems for salads, or ingest their flowers as an aphrodisiac. And, unlike regular poppies, you cannot milk the stems or flower buds for hallucinogens or narcotics. You can only admire them.

And there are always so many of them to admire. Back in the 60s there was a movie entitled The Day of the Triffids. Plume poppies can put you in mind of those hard-charging, if entirely fictitious plants. Fortunately, Plume Poppies aren’t carnivorous; nor are they actually mobile, they just seem to be. All of this is a way of saying that, though the plume poppy may be lovely and attractive, spectacular even, you can’t have just one of them.

BUT, If you just can’t resist and you really must have A Plume Poppy, put it in a large container, or isolate it somehow. Perhaps you can find a place surrounded by some impervious surface, like concrete, though I suspect it would manage to undermine the whole thing and put up new shoots somewhere where you least expected and least wanted them. A safe bet might be a container on a roof deck, or the median strip on an urban highway. In fact, that may be the best spot of all. Then all of us could love and admire them…..from a safe distance. In that spirit I offer up this suggestion: Make the Plume Poppy the signature plant of the Guerilla Gardeners movement. Let Plumes Rule!