You already know that I’m as crazy about flowers as the bees are but show me a plant with burgundy, yellow, blue, orange, or striped-white foliage—anything other than one of the million shades of green—and I’ll do my darnedest to cram it into the garden. Even if I already have one. Case in point: Coppertina ninebark (Physocarpus opulifolius ‘Mindia’), which has peachy spring foliage that matures to the deepest burgundy, and beside-the-point pink flowers in June. Years ago I bought one and planted it in the shadows against an ivy covered fence and promptly forgot about it. A year or two later I spotted another at a nursery, fell madly in love and bought it all over again. That one I planted where I can see it.

Even plain green leaves are full of colorful pigments that assist in processing sunlight or offer defensive chemistry as well as myriad subtle variations within chlorophyll’s dominant greenery. Yellow, blue, and purple flavonoids help plants defend against insects and fungal infections. Orange and yellow carotenoids protect against ultraviolet damage and help with photosynthesis. Red anthocyanin, most visible in leaves as they emerge (think peonies), screens against frost and sunburn. Some plants are so full of one or other of these pigments that chlorophyll’s green takes a backseat and gardeners everywhere (I know it’s not just me) whip out their wallets.

Variegation is a-whole-nother ballgame of genetic mutation, sometimes stable, sometimes not, wherein a few leaf cells quit producing chlorophyll. Variegated plants tend to grow less vigorously than their solid green progenitors but the resulting patterns of white stripes, dots, and splashes on green are hard to resist. After all, every variation on the green theme sews another square of calico onto the garden’s crazy quilt. (In this metaphor flowers are the appliqué, rickrack, and dingle balls.)

Variegated plants, which as a rule are susceptible to sunburn and do best in some shade, will shine a spotlight in a dark corner. Yellow foliage does the same although, like my Tiger Eyes sumac (Rhus typhina ‘Bailtiger’), tends to turn more green the less sun it gets. The color complements orange and blue bring out the best in each other. Blue foliage will look more blue in any case near orange but in truth, orange is orange no matter what’s nearby and can become a focal point, whether you need one there or not.

Burgundy is the toughest color to place in order to keep it from disappearing into the void the way ninebark number one did. Best to plant dark foliaged plants where they can be backlit by the sun or in combination with wildly different shapes and textures that put their negative space on display. My black lace elderberry (Sambucus nigra ‘Eva’) would read as one big shadow against the house if its tatted leaves didn’t spill across the dinner-table foliage of my butterbur patch. Got one right. I planted my second ninebark where it shines behind a red-stemmed, blue-flowered hydrangea and against a backdrop of grey oak-leaved plume poppy. Two for three.

A couple of weeks ago I found myself powerless to resist the call of yet another ninebark. Unlike Coppertina, Amber Jubilee (Physocarpus opulifolius ‘Jefam’) is a beacon whose peachy new leaves “fade” to chartreuse instead of burgundy. It’s much more likely to steal the show than disappear into the shadows and only needs a few color echoes elsewhere in the crazy quilt to keep it from being a little too visible. No doubt I’ll spot a solution to that design problem the next time I visit a nursery.

Kristin Green is the interpretive horticulturist at Blithewold Mansion, Gardens & Arboretum and author of "Plantiful: Start Small, Grow Big with 150 Plants that Spread, Self-Sow, and Overwinter" (Timber Press). Follow Blithewold’s garden blog at blog.blithewold.org.