I think of this as the my "Mannerist" Solomon's Seal...
...similar in willful exaggeration to people in the paintings of that post-Renaissance,
pre-Baroque period: elongated and leggy.
Like the swan-necked couple in this Cellini salt cellar.
Or the impossibly (but deliciously) long-limbed Susanna in this creepy fresco by Allesandro Allori.

The learing gropiness of Susanna's two lechers is also part of this Solomon's Seal's appeal too. Don't you just want to get down and fondle each stalk?




Compared to more realistic (you could say, as they did in the 1500's, "classical") proportions
and perspectives of the Renaissance, Mannerist dimensions are wild indeed.
The Virgin in this Renaissance fresco by Raphael is so normally-proportioned that she seems positively Midwest and dumpy compared to Susanna. You might also call her wholesome and sane too, even happy. Depending on what you need out of your art (or your garden), that could either be a welcome stability or a boring stasis.

The plain species of Solomon Seal has the "classical" look too, yes?
Positively well-fed and comfortable with the world as it is. A conservative Solomon's Seal in all senses of the word.

But I digress: Back to this post's sizzling, anything-but-normal Solomon's Seal.
I'm using the picture from Plant Delights, where I got mine, and you can get yours too.

It's both taller than the normal SS, and each leaflet along the stem is excitingly, dramatically longer too. Plant Delights says it can get up to four feet tall; I'm still hoping for three, but the proportions are such that the plant looks taller than reality anyway. That's the Mannerist way!

PD also says it's only hardy down to Zone 6, but if you live in Vermont all that means is that you mulch like hell or you do what I do with so many of my tender-in-Rhode Island stuff: grow it in pots. Like all Solomon's Seals, this one is completely dormant all Winter. So it would be happy in a pot that's stashed in your basement by December and brought up into the chilly excitement—again, so Mannerist—of your early Spring.

Of course, you yourself need to have a taste for Mannerism before you'd want to start buying Mannerist plants. (You already do? Fabulous: I'm available for lunch next week.) And if not, no time like the present.