Greetings, fellow sun-worshippers. We are the Rudbeckia clan, though you likely know us by our common name: Black-eyed Susans. From our perspective, a successful life is one filled with bright sunshine, good drainage, and room for our roots to roam. Allow us to guide you through the simple joys of helping us thrive.
Our most fundamental need is light. We are children of the prairie and open meadows, and we require a minimum of six to eight hours of direct, unfiltered sunlight each day. Without it, our stems become weak and lanky, reaching pathetically for the light, and our flower show will be disappointing. When choosing a spot for us, think of a wide-open space. The soil itself is less fussy; we are remarkably adaptable. While we prefer a well-draining loam, we will tolerate clay or sandy soils. The key is that our roots must never sit in waterlogged earth, as this will lead to a swift and unpleasant rot. You can start us from seed sown directly on the soil surface in fall or early spring, or as young transplants settled into the ground after the last frost.
Once we are established, we are quite drought-tolerant, thanks to our deep and fibrous root systems. The keyword is "established." For the first season, please provide us with about an inch of water per week, allowing the soil to dry out slightly between waterings. This encourages our roots to grow deep into the earth in search of moisture, building a strong, resilient foundation. In subsequent years, we typically only need supplemental watering during periods of extreme drought. A deep, thorough soaking is far superior to frequent, light sprinklings, which encourage shallow roots and make us vulnerable to heat stress.
Frankly, we are not heavy feeders. In fact, rich, heavily fertilized soil often does us more harm than good. It can lead to an overabundance of floppy foliage at the expense of our beloved flowers. We are accustomed to thriving in lean prairie soils. If you feel you must feed us, a light application of a balanced, slow-release fertilizer in early spring is more than sufficient. Often, a top-dressing of compost each spring provides all the gentle nutrients we need. Too much nitrogen will make us lazy bloomers and weak-stemmed.
As the season progresses, you will notice our vibrant petals begin to fade and wither. This is a natural process. By snipping off the spent flower heads (a practice you call "deadheading"), you signal to us that our work is not yet done. We will often respond by producing a fresh flush of blooms to try again to set seed. If you leave the spent flowers on the stalk, we will happily self-sow, creating new generations of seedlings for you. Every two to four years, you may notice our clumps becoming dense and the center of the plant dying out. This is our way of asking for more space. In early spring or fall, you can dig up the entire clump and gently pull or cut the roots apart into smaller sections. Replant these divisions, and each will grow into a vigorous new plant.
We are social beings and enjoy the company of other sun-loving perennials that share our cultural needs. Ornamental grasses, Coneflowers (Echinacea), Russian Sage (Perovskia), and Salvia are excellent companions. Together, we create a dynamic, textured, and ecologically valuable landscape that supports pollinators like bees and butterflies. We are generally resilient against pests and diseases, though poor air circulation can sometimes lead to powdery mildew on our leaves. Giving us adequate space is the best prevention.
