Rainy Day Garden

24 Tonight

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 12 Apr 2009 23:30:00 +0000

This is a slightly better picture of one of my heaths.

Hmm. It's Easter, so of course it's freezing and windy. Yes, the daffs are blooming...Lots of hellebores, the bloodroot is coming along, there's Hepatica here and there. I've noticed that our Japanese primroses have seeded in further down the stream...We'll probably be cited for starting a non-native invasion. Don't care, they're gorgeous. As long as the deer don't get to them before they bloom. I will arm myself with a sprayer bottle full of Deer-Off when they are fully budded, and go do my best to protect them.

This is a Helleborus niger hybrid, possibly my favorite Hellebore and one of my favorite plants. It blooms in early March, which in itself is a miracle. And its beauty is miraculous as well. It is more purely white than most strains of Helleborus orientalis, and I like the relationship of flower size to stem better as well.

Yesterday we watched as a Fisher wailed on an old birdhouse until he managed to rip off part of the roof, and extract the (hopefully already dead from fright) chipmunk within. Quite a sight, clearly so much energy, strength and determination in that long furry body.

Lots of remains of winter nests:

The voles get pretty cozy. P. says that they don't tend to nest as much if you clean up more in the fall. I am a lazy gardener...

Home

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 22:16:00 +0000

I don't think I saw a speck of snow until I drove up our driveway. We have several piles, remnants of our plower's work. One of them is quite enormous, but as I recall, there was still a fairly good supply of compost under there. I shall be optimistic and believe that it's mostly soil.

Meanwhile, there is the usual mess:

I will tend to this soon. When it's not so damn cold. And wet. In oh, about a month.

A few notes to brighten an otherwise very grey and damp homecoming:

Various heaths, the white one in brave full bloom, and the red one...just plain joyfully outrageous, surrounded as it is by bleakness and woe. Sorry the picture of the red one (Winter Chocolate?) is so poor, I'll try to do better.

I grow them here, where it goes below -10 from time to time, without reliable snow cover and in a very exposed southwestern exposure. They survived the worst winter ever, a few years ago ('06? I am not a journal keeper. No, this blog does not qualify). What is the secret? I have no idea. Heath-loving gremlins. I have also lost some.

Customers will ask why one of a particular plant has died, when the other(s) has not. They seem to imagine that gardening is a precise science.

Another plant that I find gratifying at this time of year is the Sedum Angelique:

This photograph doesn't come close to doing it justice. In the cold days ahead it will become a brilliant rosey red, and as the weather warms, the succulent foliage becomes a brilliant chartreuse. And it's a groundcover, growing contentedly and rapidly in any soil that isn't overly wet. If it spreads to much, it's very easy to pull up. Definitely one of my favorites.

As is this fine specimen: Ajuga 'Chocolate Chip'. Looks like total yuck at the moment, but soon it will regain its bronzy tones and burst forth with cobalt blue blooms. I'd grow it even if it didn't flower; in fact, I'd probably prefer it that way. I use it between stepping stones and it takes plenty of abuse - foot traffic (human and large bouncy dogs) and occasional dog pee (our dogs are generally very well behaved but they have their moments). Another groundcover - I find groundcovering plants more and more useful (not to mention cost-effective). My favorite favorite book on groundcover plants is Perennial Groundcovers by David MacKenzie. This book will help move you beyond your vinca/pachysandra phase, if you're still stuck back there.

Spring on I-95

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 29 Mar 2009 21:16:00 +0000

Of course it has been nicer to spend three months of winter instead of two in Florida. And as a result, I am driving north a month later and seeing Spring at various stages (spring, sprang, sprung?) along the way. My brother-in-law asked me to notice where there were no longer new leaves bursting forth, and still just winter-grey twigs: A born New Englander like me, he has decided to head south for the next portion of his life. He is focusing on Charleston, South Carolina and southward, which I think is wise. Charleston is a delightful small city but he might be happier a little further south, and where swimming beaches are a bit more close-by. Somewhere perhaps like St. Augustine, Florida, America's oldest city - established in 1565. That of course is nothing to folks from much of the rest of the world, but for us New Worlders, it's downright ancient.

At any rate, I think it was somewhere in North Carolina where things began to look less vernal. Yes, there are forsythia and daffodils in bloom here in Woodbridge, Virginia - but the deciduous trees are still very grey; there is barely a hint of the green surge that is soon to come.

The lovely view from my hotel room.

Seeking something botanical in this evening's room is a challenge, the following is the best I could do:

Those two reddish things are leaves. The artwork is of a type very popular these days in hotel/motel rooms and at inexpensive art emporiums. When I was an art school student there was a "movement" involving the collaging of various elements, usually including photographs from the artist's childhood, with a nostalgic effect though of course it was "high art" so nostalgia was certainly impermissible. In these motel pieces it has all been highly sanitized and everything has become a mush of beige that will blend inoffensively with any decor. At any rate it does not interfere with one's sleep.

On the other hand, there is the wallpaper: It makes me think of the short novel (or is it a long story?), The Yellow Wallpaper, not really the sort of story one wants to be reminded of when alone in a strange room.

Unless you are me, who has packed for her reading material M.R. James's Collected Ghost Stories. They are not all wonderful, but a few have definitely crept into the dark untended corners of my brain. I have always enjoyed a good (usually English) ghost story, but I had not read any for years until recently, when I saw that my husband had bought this book. He had set it down after reading only one or two stories and not having been remotely disturbed. But then, he doesn't comprehend my visceral fear of spiders, either (large ones only, and yes, I know they're wonderful. They are messengers of Death, though, so keep that in mind.).

On the Road Again

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 23:52:00 +0000

Canned Heat? Willie Nelson? Both.

Made it to Hardeeville, South Carolina today. Which is an accomplishment, since as I first started my journey this morning, I checked to make sure my wallet was in its usual spot. It wasn't. Lost or stolen, and knowing me the former is far more likely. I should tie anything of importance to my body.

Said goodbye again to our doorfrogs, who seem to be getting much livelier as the weather warms up. They leap around and hurl themselves about with what seems like abandon, landing on one's leg or for example this morning, on Sally's bottom. The frog moved on immediately and Sally looked puzzled until the next thing distracted her.

Sally is our 2 1/2 year old Miniature Australian Shepherd. Here is a photograph of her beautifying herself on the beach.

Tried to take some nice pictures of the emerging seagrape leaves, which are amazing olive green pinkish colors, maybe the color of alien baby flesh.

And to end the day on a gardenish note, here is the bit of botany from my lovely room at Holiday Inn, where I was treated very sympathetically by the woman at the reception desk. I thought the reflection of the lampshade was a nice touch...

Natives, Frogs, and Farewells

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 27 Mar 2009 19:00:00 +0000

Philip and I are on a very big learning curve, since there are so many genuses and species we've never heard of here. I refuse to attribute it to my advancing age, but I seem to have more difficulty remembering the Latin names these days. In the past it was a snap, though it may have helped that I had a few years of Latin in school. But the plant names here...Coccoloba uvifera, Rapanea guineensis, Xanthozylum fagara...! Since I'm a snobbish northeasterner, I have a theory that the more south you get, the sloppier they were with their Latin. Those names just don't seem right to me!

Our house is shaded by several Jamaican dogwoods (Piscidia erythrina or piscipula). The word "dogwood", by the way, has nothing to do with dogs but refers to the fact that the wood is hard enough to make "dags" or daggers. At least, that's the derivation for the common name of those dogwoods from the genus Cornus; I'm not so sure how the Jamaican dogwood came to be called that. It's other common name is fishpoison tree. The leaves and branches were used in the past to stun fish which were then easily caught. It's a traditional herbal remedy for neuralgia, migraine, insomnia and other nerve disorders. But at our house, it's just a useful shade tree, and a bit of a weed - a typical member of the Legume family, seeding around so that if we didn't pay attention, we might have a dogwood forest.

I am leaving here tomorrow, and sad to go. Still, it's spring up north and there is much to look forward to; including messy gardens in need of serious cleanup...I am a lazy fall gardener: I like Kathy Purdy's description at her blog, Cold Climate Gardening, of one's energy shifting toward indoor instead of outdoor cleanup as the cooler weather sets in.

I will miss our door frogs who snooze the day away above the window next to our front door:

And I will miss all of the exotic textures that I see here, such as these:

Scruffy and Unkempt

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 25 Mar 2009 12:38:00 +0000

A friend and solidly experienced gardener (English, no less - so obviously particularly knowledgable!) who has vacationed near our Florida home, commented that she didn't care for the landscape here - Referring I suspect to the great messiness that surrounds us, the lack of large shade trees perhaps, and nothing in sight resembling a more traditional perennial garden.

I will grant you that Gertrude Jekyll would mostly likely not enjoy the scenery here. The sun, heat, and wind are harsh; and many areas are flooded during summer rains and then subjected to merciless drought during other seasons. Plants along the road take on a silvery cast from the dust during the long dry spells. Trees fall or lean over during high winds, and continue to grow, misshapen by our standards of upright neatly pruned perfection. Nature here is a lunatic bonsai master.

There are plenty of tidy gardens, don't get me wrong. There are rows of Royal Palms , Coccolobas and Hibiscus pruned within an inch of their lives, to be seen around many corners...

Under Foot and Over Head

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 23:58:00 +0000

Here's a lovely idea I linked to from The Inelegant Gardener's blog:

Pair that with a lovely green roof such as this,

and you're all set, inhabiting a truly green world. At least until you step beyond your front door.

Good Morning

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 11:17:00 +0000

The sad countdown, three more days and I'll be on my way northward. I see it's 23 degrees up there this morning. It's 65 here. I'm sure I'll barely notice the difference (NOT!). Fortunately the situation should be improving up there very shortly.

Yesterday someone drove their pickup truck into a conservation area near here, and the heat from his truck started a brush fire. It was up to 15 acres and near a few houses, but the firefighters got it under control. Well, nothing like a (barely) controlled burn for tidying the landscape..

. ....and for cleaning out your car.

I expect he'll think twice about going off-road next time.

We get permits and do burns on our property up north every now and then. It's wonderful to watch the new growth emerging after a fire.

Hula Girls

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 23 Mar 2009 12:51:00 +0000

There is often a discussion in these parts as to the correct way to prune the native palms, Sabal palmetto or cabbage palm. My impression is that Republican types e.g. golfers, like to see a tidy palm with any hint of a brown frond eradicated; whereas the more liberal sort prefer a looser (Republicans would say messier, unkempt, irresponsible, etc.) more relaxed appearance (gentler, smarter, etc.), i.e. leaving on all dead foliage and going for that "old Florida" look. We go both ways on our property, opting for a little more neatness close to the house, and letting it all hang out elsewhere. No dogmatists here! I will confess to a mild preference for the tidier look, but I amuse myself by thinking that those trees with a full skirt of dead fronds bear a marked resemblance to hula dancers:

See what I mean? Perhaps this explains why most palm tree collectors are men...

At any rate, we have been told that it's allright to cut off the brown fronds, but a very bad idea to cut off the green, living ones (here's a very helpful lesson in palm pruning) - Why anyone would want to do so is a bit of a mystery to me, but apparently that is exactly what many landscaping companies do, leaving sad-looking trees behind that look as though they've exfoliated after a shocking experience:

Philip has been very busy in his effort to free our property of the air potato, Dioscorea bulbifera. This is one of many buckets he has filled of this nasty invasive vine. It will no doubt be an ongoing project, comparable to our eradication of bittersweet and poison ivy from our yard up north. There is plenty of the latter here as well, enjoying the Florida climate.

This Time for Sure!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 22 Mar 2009 10:46:00 +0000

Almost another year has passed. We (husband Philip and moi Victoria) have been in Florida again for the winter and very soon I must leave this Paradise and go back to my job in Massachusetts. I actually enjoy getting back to work - There are worse jobs than working at a garden center, and these days those of us who are still employed should certainly feel good about it.

Forget the virtual assistant stuff - Who has time to figure it all out?

Last winter we bought a house down here, in zone 10 west coastal Florida. We are about 1/4 of a mile from the Gulf of Mexico and have an acre and a half of land. It is a challenging gardening environment, sandy and calcitic, nothing I would call soil:

Not very inspiring, I suppose - But it is to us. The native plants do fine here, even despite the current drought: Marlberry, Myrsine, wild olive, wild lime (watch those thorns!), wild coffee. Hmm, there seems to be a theme here...There will be much trial and error, as there always is. I once had a customer tell me she'd been gardening for years and had never lost a plant. I theorized that she used only plastic flowers - how else could that be possible?

At this point in our lives we can be here 3 - 4 months a year (D.H. can manage it a for bit longer than I, a benefit of being a professional gardener in a northern clime) so plants we put in must be able to hack it without too much supervision. Philip has put in irrigation to get new plantings started, we will have a friend turn it off once the warm weather rains begin. We will plant a minimum of 75% native plants...This brings up the whole "native" issue - Down here, the word refers quite clearly to plants that are at least Florida natives, if not natives to this precise latitude and longitude. Up north, you will find that native could mean native to New England...or to North America. And which North America? pre- or post colonial? and on and on. At any rate, we are conscientious.

We were greatly inspired last week during a tour of several private gardens in the Miami area,

all designed at least in part by Raymond Jungles, a well-known landscape architect in these parts. We were even lucky enough to sit with him and his lovely fiance Gina at lunch - enabling us to grill him with just a fraction of the many questions we have as neophyte tropical gardeners.

Caltha palustris

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 12:41:00 +0000

Otherwise known as Marsh Marigold, happiest in boggy glens . Truly one of my favorites, and native to boot. Brilliant clear yellow...Hmm, do I have a picture? I might have to cheat and steal one... Here it is!

So cheerful, and so early. Later in the season I might not appreciate its bright starry gaze, but mid-April when we are often as not still frosty in the morning, it is a sight for winterized eyes that have been numbed by relentless grey.

I confess however, that I am even more fond of the white form. AHHHHH, Plant Snob! But it isn't the rarity that appeals, but the pristine simplicity of these flowers. I won't show you one: You will have to search for it yourself, and when and if you discover it, you will understand. And yeah, I would probably qualify as a plant snob.

Um, it's been awhile, hasn't it?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 13 Apr 2008 19:04:00 +0000

Okay, why would anyone read a blog that hasn't been updated in over a year?

Whatever, here I am. I'm starting a new business venture, though keeping my day job, as they say. The new job is Virtual Assistant - All the stuff that an Administrative Assistant might do,l but remotely, via the fabulous Internet. We shall see. I certainly have the qualifications, now we'll see how I do at marketing myself (blowing my own horn has never been a strength) and finding a client or two. Know anyone?

Meanwhile, back to the garden. It is April in New England, and it certainly doesn't look much like the photo above. The poppy is Beauty of Livermere, and in life it is much more of a true red, a to-die-for red, not a hint of orange. This poppy is one of my favorites and is I believe (despite having been trademarked a few years ago by some enterprising and greedy soul) an older variety. I could be wrong, I could be romanticizing the plant simply because I like it. It is somewhat smaller than many modern varieties. It used to grow under a Cercis (redbud) 'Forest Pansy', but I mercifully moved the little tree to a kinder location in open woods, where it has hopefully forgiven me for last year's midseason transplant shock. Its position near the poppy was far too hot and sunny for the genus, I don't know what I was thinking; except that its beautiful red/purple foliage had just the effect I wanted in that location. I replaced it with a dark-leaved Sambucus (Black Negligee? Or some such silly moniker), not as satisfactory but definitely happier in that spot.

I will probably plant fewer plants this season: I have taken a lover - in the form of a second home that my husband Philip and I bought this year on the southern Gulf coast of Florida. We have an acre and a half of land there and we plan to retire there eventually. Now I long to explore this territory which is largely new to me, of tropical coastal gardening. Where I have had to choose plants in New England for their cold-hardiness, now I will be considering salt- and wind-tolerance. I am very eager to get at it - but at this point in our busy lives, we can spend no more than 3 months of the years there; of course we are very lucky to be able to spend as much time as that.

And BRRRRR again....

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 08 Apr 2007 12:00:00 +0000

Hmmm. No wonder New Englanders have a reputation for being taciturn and prickly. No other temperament could survive in this relentless cold, when spring is so eagerly, desperately anticipated and hoped for at every moment...Other years, this day might find 70-degree weather, buds popping everywhere you turn. This year, when global warming is in the headlines nearly every day (as it certainly should be), we have night after sub-freezing night, annoying last-minute snowstorms, leaving behind small seemingly unmeltable icebergs to remind us for as long as possible, you live in New England - You must forestall joy. "Don't get your hopes up." That describes us.

But we do, nonetheless. Hope springs eternal in the New England gardener's heart. I have been very busy, working at the garden center where I manage the perennial and nursery departments. While Philip and I are down south during the winters, we of course visit garden centers and nurseries and I often wonder if the staff there could endure the insanity that is spring at a cold-region retail garden center. The window of opportunity is quite small, so the ramping-up process is absolutely hair-raising.

This year, our perennial customers particularly are desparate to get digging, but the ground that had begun to thaw has sealed up again, and planting must be delayed. They come around and see what we have to offer at this early date (more than our competition, we make a point of it though sometimes when I'm driving in to work at 6 in the morning to water off an early spring frost, I do wonder why...). But most will not yet buy, since we have put out signs warning them to protect their new purchases from these early spring nights. So, rather than take them home now, they choose to have us tend to them until the weather takes its inevitable turn - usually a 180 degree turn toward 80 degrees, so that flowers whose buds have been teasing you for what seems like a month or more, burst forth and blow by in a day and a half. New Englanders don't excite easily.

Brrrrr

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 24 Feb 2007 21:38:00 +0000

We're heading home Tuesday. Back to our home, back to work. I always look forward to it even though it means leaving behind the warmth and and wildlife in Florida. Right now it's looking might cold up there and it definitely will not look anything like spring when we arrive.

But then, one day, there it will be. Little green points poking up through the mud, on their way. It never fails to excite me.

And it will be a mess. I didn't do much cleaning up this fall. I enjoy my garden as much in autumn as any other time of year, so I'm hesitant to clean at that time of year, or I just never know when it's time...And, of course, I'm lazy, so that's a good excuse. I will have soggy heaps of big grasses, sedums, and various piles of unidentifiable sliminess, home to who knows what sort of critters large and microscopic. Poor garden hygiene, horrors! Note to self, it is generally more pleasant to be tidying on a crisp autumn day, than on a typically nasty March morning...

Besides, once I'm back to work I'll have precious little free time for a bit, until the spring insanity is over sometime in June. I hope for a good year at work, sales have been flat the last few years - not just for us but nationally. Maybe people have gotten frustrated from losing too many plants. And most people really aren't into the labor, they just want the prettiness, guaranteed. We can make various suggestions for a "low-maintenance" garden. The customer looking for one of these is often by contrast, rather "high-maintenance"; i.e. someone who's liable to reappear next spring, complaining that two of the twenty plants that she bought died at some point during the last year, may she please have a refund? Certainly. One of my favorite customer quotes was a woman who told me that she had been gardening for years, and never lost a plant until this most recent occurrence. Miraculous! As for me, I have planted vast heavenly gardens (i.e. where all my casualties go). Obviously, this customer was all green thumbs...

Planning (don't forget, you can click to enlarge photos)

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 18 Feb 2007 18:03:00 +0000

Once again, a beautiful picture before I reveal the horrors that I can create...

This is the my Japanese primrose garden, planted in an intermittent stream that, in a good year, never dries up completely (some years are more mittent than others, I suppose). I hadn't grown these much previously and I've been thrilled with their performance. They are more than happy in this site; in fact, I will have to do some serious editing this spring to keep them vigorous. Or, I can let not bother to spray with Deer-Off and let the deer munch them to the ground when they're in bud. It's a task I usually manage to get done, because chomped off primrose stems are a sad, sad sight.

This is a newer garden and I am experimenting with many other plants in the area, including Astilbes, Iris pseudocorus (which I'm getting rid of because it's a non-native invasive, so don't get excited), Mukdenia rossii (huh?), Rodgersia, Lobelia, Chelone.... Those are all moisture loving plants, but the land slopes up from there to a drier area that I am working on too.

The largest chunk here is a Pulmonaria, or lungwort, maybe Sissinghurst White or Opal. A white one, at any rate, though there are many terrific varieties. This one is very happy. Sometimes gardeners have trouble with powdery mildew on Pulmonaria, but if it gets reasonable moisture through the season, it shouldn't be a problem. People assume that powdery mildew occurs as a result of excess moisture, which isn't entirely true: It's more a function of irregular moisture, and being too dry at some points can make the plant more susceptible: Take good care of your plants. The white spotted varieties have an advantage here, since mildew is conveniently camouflaged. Supposedly this is less of an issue with the lanceolate varieties, i.e. varieties that have long pointy leaves, like Samurai or Bertram Anderson, but I haven't experimented with this theory.

Anyhow, there's still a lot of bare dirt here, and no design happening. Behind the lungwort is a Sambucus, one of the golden ones (this is embarassing, I really must save those tags), for which I have high hopes. I grow a number of Sambucus, or Elder, which I really enjoy. One of them gets an absolutely nasty-looking white wormy borer (I believe that's its scientific name...) during the summer. Since I prune this tree/shrub heavily each spring, I now apply Elmer's Glue to the wounds to prevent anyone so pernicious moving in and damaging one of my favorite plants (Sambucus nigra lacianata). This works nicely on roses, too.

There are some old Hemerocallis fulvas that I've since pulled out. Those are the wild orange daylilies that you see everywhere in high summer. I like them, but I don't need them in this garden - too tall, too leafy, just not right for the design that will someday reveal itself to me. I've put in a shorter variety, probably Little Grapette or some small purplish thing, that will fit in better.

There is a ton of Aster divaricata in the area, and a bit in this garden, because it is one of my favorites (yes, I have many favorites, and they shift about from time to time). Across the driveway from this garden is a wilder area that I have been cleaning up over the last few years: It was full of bittersweet (evil and omnipresent, though beautiful of course in berry) and poison ivy. Oh, poison ivy! I could write a book. Or a blog post, at any rate. We have around 8 acres of land, and over 6 of those acres were covered with p.i. and bittersweet when we moved in. I spent many a summer day roaming about with a sprayer on my back, and Philip as well. I still spend much of the summer scratching myself here and there (never in public), but we have eradicated the mother plants and now only have to deal with the many seedlings. We have planted all sorts of other forage for the birds and other critters, don't dismay.

Aster divaricatus - one of our loveliest natives, in my opinion. In the wild bed that we have along our driveway, these have established themselves happily and bloom over a long period in late summer into the fall. It's a wonderful sight to see along with many lady ferns as we go along the driveway, and it is almost entirely Nature's handiwork. Puts many a gardener's efforts (including quite a few of my own) to shame.

Many of my customers bemoan the fact that their properties are almost entirely shaded. I suppress an urge to ask them why they didn't look for a sunnier spot when they were house-shopping. It was our priority, but then, we are extreme gardeners. And then I tell them something I really believe, that there is nothing more pleasant and relaxing than a shade garden on a hot summer day. It is the most natural of environments, particularly in the forested Northeast, and there is nowhere I would prefer to be on 90% humid August day than down one of my shaded garden paths, deep in lush foliage (we do not irrigate, though we will do supplemental watering during dry spells: Our lawn, what's left of it, we allow to go dormant if there is insufficient rain). The plant palette is wide and varied, though it is generally not a place where you will find enormous blooms, at least in August: Think about it, at least in deciduous shade, there is quite a bit of sun in early spring until the leaves have popped out, and many flowering plants for shade are low-growing and early-blooming for this reason (at least, that's my anthropomorphic take on plant logic). We are going for more subtle pleasures here, so if your middle name is Garish then perhaps you need to relocate to a nice glaring and exposed spot where you can pretend to be Gertrude Jekyll.

Planning

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 13 Feb 2007 20:24:00 +0000

I wanted to begin this with a beautiful picture, because next I'm going to post some pretty ugly ones. Actually, it's fairly easy to make even ugly gardens look good in photographs. Right now, I'm more concerned with making ugly gardens look good in reality. The top photo is of Philip's lavender bed that's in front of our house. The lavender is 'Grosso', which supposedly is the hardiest of the hardier lavenders. During a very bad zone 5-ish winter, he lost oh maybe 10 of 60 or so plants. And I should correct that and say that he really only lost perhaps one or two, and that the rest just needed a good hard prune and a little time to recover, before regaining their good looks.

I love Lavender. I know it really hates me for planting it in New England, but I can live with that. I love to look at them in the sun, or when it's foggy, or when they're all in bloom; and of course, there's the fragrance. Philip cuts the stems and we made our first million from selling them (uh huh, oh yeah).

Okay, now on to the work at hand. I have many gardens, and in my gardens I have many problems. Where to begin...

Maybe this doesn't look so bad at a glance, but it's a mess. Lots of great plants. Lots. Maybe some less than great, and lots of those too.

Baptisia 'Carolina Moonlight ' is a terrific plant, but I didn't need to put in three of them (that's the soft yellow blooms at the back). One of them must go. I'm generally fond of the Baptisias - tough as nails plants, nice long-lasting flowers and foliage that holds up through the season, as well. Some are a bit floppy and there is one I would never plant, 'Screaming Yellow'. Aptly named.

Somewhere beneath their pulchritude is an oppressed Aster called 'October Skies', Aster laevis, I think though don't hold me to it. A wonderful almost oh so close oh go ahead and call it blue color, blooming late like most of its kin. However, it does not seem to care for a three foot mulch of false indigo, go figure. I will rescue it this spring and find another home for a Baptisia or two.

Also lurking under leafage is one of those droopy golden Chamaecyparis-es (probably pisifera 'Sungold') which could be lovely but it's hard to tell. It too will see more light of day come spring, it's only fair. I planted these things, they are my responsibility...

The grass is Leymus areanarius, Blue Dune Grass. It had a tag that read "European Dune Grass". Now whether that's because they knew I'm a snob and would be a sucker for anything that said "European" on it, or because it really is a distinct variety, I'm not sure. It does seem to be less spreading than some of its typically pushy American peers, but I'm still not convinced. I read somewhere that Leymus was Gertrude Jekyll's favorite grass. So that, of course, settles that. It certainly is a smashing blue, and is a terrific architectural presence in the garden. But it deserves to be at the core of a design, rather than in the middle of a big jumble.

A big part of the problem here is the daylilies, front and center. They are a very nice variety called 'Miss Amelia' which I'm not sure is still widely available, but where ever it is, it's spreading, so go find some and just ask if you could have little, because of course, that's all you'll need. The bloom is creamy yellow and not huge and ridiculous like lots of modern hybrids, and the blooming goes on and on through the summer, for which I am always grateful. I find that I'm less grateful for all the deadheading I need to do to keep the garden looking spiffy. I said, "need" to do. Don't assume that I actually do it. At any rate, their foliage is too similar to the Leymus, and something must give.

Bobcats!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 12 Feb 2007 05:40:00 +0000

Photo by Bob Gress

We were having dinner this evening when I thought I saw some movement in the bushes just across the bayou. I watched for a few minutes and then I saw it, sitting there gazing back at me, calm and quiet - a bobcat! We grabbed the binoculars and got a good look, since the bayou is only a few yards across. There were two of them, who then went along their way on the various paths we've seen over there when we go over to the beach. We see their scat from time to time but didn't think we'd be lucky enough to see the cats themselves. After oohing and aahing for a bit, we settled back down to our meal (yummy chicken curry). In a few minutes, Sally, our 7 month old miniature Australian Shepherd, alerted to sights and sounds in the back yard: Sure enough, they were back, and this time they were on our side, right on the lawn. They hesitated for a few moments, well aware of our presence, and so unsure as to the safest course. But soon they deemed it safe enough to hurry along, and they ran along the sand into the brush, not to be seen again.

I was so pleased to have seen them. I saw bobcats here about 6 years ago, the first year we came down; but I was alone and have been teased ever since that I made it up. This time Philip saw them too, as well as his brother John. A definite high point for all (except perhaps for the bobcats).

Seedless in...(what rhymes with Seattle?)

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 12 Feb 2007 01:07:00 +0000

I'm not even thinking about doing seeds this winter. Oh, I'll stick in the requisite sweet peas and maybe some zinnias, but I'm just no good with the follow-through when it comes to seeds. I lose interest, get too busy... I spend all sorts of money and often as not, the packets sit there for several years before I get tidy and throw them away (I hear gasping). Nope, I don't even throw them on the compost pile. I know, what kind of gardener am I who isn't musing over the catalogs during the long winter evenings? Of course, it helps that I often spend two months of the winter in Florida.

I apologize to whoever made this wonderful image for not giving them full credit, but I couldn't find a copyright or a name. At any rate, here's where I found it, you figure it out (it's pretty damn interesting actually and I think I have to stop blogging now to look into this further):

Curse of Blackmoor Manor
(be sure to scroll down when you get there...)

January Blooms

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 11 Feb 2007 21:46:00 +0000

I took a few pictures in January just before we headed south for a couple of months. We live in zone 6 Massachusetts, used to be zone 5 but thanks to global warming, I have a broader plant palette than I used to.

I love Helleborus niger because it has the whitest flower of the hellebores. This may be some named variety, I'm not good about keeping tags. Look at that flower - I just wanted to lie down on the ground and gaze into it. Actually, that's what I did. It wasn't too cold that day...

Then there was a wonderful little Cyclamen purpurescens blooming away in a warm spot near the garden I call the allee. I was mesmerized the first time I found one of these blooming, and they still charm me far more than any showy June blossom. This is the hardiest of the hardy cyclamens, I would say zone 5 is usually safe.

The little blue flower is my favorite Phlox subulata, 'Oakington Blue Eyes'. It's not an easy variety to find these days for some reason. I like it because the color is very cool and pale. And yes, it was blooming on January 1st. Okay, it wasn't covered in bloom, but it was blooming. I could really get used to this whole global warming thing. Of course, I don't live on the coast...

And then there are the heathers (Calluna ssp.). Heaths (Erica ssp.) are actually hardier (at least in my experience, but many say otherwise), but I love them both. They are generally hardy here, although a few winters ago we had the worst winter in 100 years, at least as far as gardening is concerned (too much cold, not enough snow). A customer at the garden center where I work, a very nice older gentleman originally from England, had lost a 20-year old planting of heathers. Very sad. But he was shopping for new plants. Gardeners are nothing if not hopeful. That's a whole other topic... How many plants have I killed? But my otherwise reasonably healthy memory is capable of completely forgetting plants that I have killed not once but possibly several times, and finding a spot for them yet again. I suppose that's not hopefulness, that's suppressing unpleasant memories. Which really isn't such a bad thing, therapists be damned.

Honestly, anyone who gardens in this climate (brutal winters, unreliable snow cover,occasional 70-degree days in January, steamy summers...) is hopeful to the point of irrationality. More power to them (and me).