The Livin’ is Easy

Jul31

This summer is going by way too fast and I am not liking that. Just a day left in July and then it’s August and once August starts my summer days are numbered, and it seems particularly frantic because I still have tulips and daffodils and snowdrops which I’ve been meaning to dig since June as well as a bunch of potted things which I’ve been whispering apologies to all spring and summer as I keep putting off that job as well. Don’t even ask me how the drip irrigation is going. It’s been raining enough that watering has rarely come up on the to-do list, so of course repairing the drip setup keeps getting knocked off the top of the list, and I mention that one in particular because I had to go around this morning and save wilted things since of course I don’t water until it’s too late. Have I mentioned in the last few breaths how much I hate watering? Probably, but let me say it again. I’d rather risk heatstroke weeding in the sun for a couple hours dripping sweat and covered in dirt rather than drag that stupid hose around.

The front border is lush and overgrown due to this summer’s steady rains. Even I think it might be a little “much” for along the street, but better too much than too little is what I say. This is lilium “Scheherazade” doing well, and also not on the lily beetle menu (yet) so that’s also good.

Risking heatstroke and actual heatstroke aren’t separated by much, and with our third day over 90F (32+C) I’m trying to walk the line and avoid drifting over to the actual part. Despite my love of lawn chairs and pool floats I’ve been far too busy outside feeding the gnats and losing water weight as I toil in the fields. Maybe that’s not the worst training considering our potential future, but for now I do it for the fun of gardening and imagine Martha and Monty just as sweaty and disgusting in the heat of summer when they have their own daylily farms to rebuild.

A daylily farm is rising from the ashes. I’ve regraded and seeded the grass path, and as of today I’m happy to report a green shimmer as the seeds begin to sprout.

My gosh, please skip ahead if you want to avoid the complaining, but it all started when I called the town a few days into staring at the bulldozed remains of my daylilies. ‘So what’s the plan?’ I asked… and then entered into a discussion which became quite vigorous after I realized they thought I wanted to do all the repairs myself. I did say that at the start when a hole at the street meant putting a few rocks back and maybe replanting a ninebark, but when the bulldozer and destruction moved twenty more feet into my yard and left a swath of raw shale and compacted topsoil, I assumed they might be able to spot me a little topsoil and mulch, even if they didn’t replace the farm or do any of the actual work. A meeting was set up. In the meantime I got to work.

First try to save a few things. About half the daylilies were left with crowns so I uncovered them and gave them a little feed. A few other things were uncovered along the street, and there might be hope for them over the next few weeks. All my stones were buried, but one of the backhoe operators set aside a few new ones he found, and I got brave and split a bigger one to end up with two big stepping stones along the street. The basketball hoop went back and then I regraded my little grass path. In all I probably pickaxed and hauled off about 20 wheelbarrows of stony, shaley dirt to lower the grade and then tried to spread whatever topsoil they left into the beds. That was awful, backbreaking work but then because I like a nice edge to a new lawn path, I dug up turf from in back and used it as sod to line the sides of the path. Then the easy part of seed, topped with lawn clippings to keep the seed damp long enough to sprout, and then wait. As of today, about a week later, the daylilies are sending up new growth, the grass seed is sprouting, and I’ve even popped in a few odds and ends like a new daylily or two, and some spare cannas and elephant ears to make it look less depressing.

There’s hope.

Since I took these photos, the town has come through with some mulch and topsoil, so more blood and sweat was shared for that, and we will see about the rest of the deal. Hopefully the next farm report will be overwhelmingly amazing. I have put some mulch down so I know at least that will be nice, and I’m in the process of picking daylilies to move in…. but enough of that… let’s look at where the rest of the garden is during these last days of July.

The agapanthus are blooming, and over the years ‘Blue Yonder’ has become a clump. I love it.

I have nothing bad to say about the agapanthus this year. They get no special attention yet are covered with blooms and have been perfectly hardy here for a number of years, with winter lows down to about zero and no protective mulch or sheltered location. It looks like a few have enjoyed all this year’s rains, but even in dry years they haven’t seemed to complain too much. I guess they’re as easy as daylilies, so I wonder if I can divide ‘Blue Yonder’ (my absolute favorite) and line out a row in the farm…. which would be awesome…

Some agapanthus from seed. These are A. campanulatus forms, the seeds of which were coincidentally saved from the bulldozers during the last sewer incident.

I guess I need to mention that not all agapanthus will be as hardy. If you’re in a northern area, check up on the hardiness rating before you plant it, out in full sun of course and then never do another thing for it other than admire the blooms and bask in the compliments.

A dwarf white form given to me as seedlings from a white Seneca Hills Nursery(Ellen Hornig) selection.

Here’s one more look at ‘Blue Yonder’ 😉

‘Blue Yonder’ has a richer color and flower heads packed with later flower buds, giving it a longer bloom time than some of the others.

I don’t know if I’d consider the agapanthus to be borderline hardy in my zone, I guess only a truly brutal winter would settle that, but I do consider some of the Crinum lilies I have planted to be borderline. Two other forms are less than enthusiastic about life here in NePa but ‘Cecil Houdyshel’ increases in size and puts out a couple flower stalks each year so we shall only talk about that one.

Crinum ‘Cecil Houdyshel’ in front of the dark foliage of ‘Royal Purple’ smokebush, alongside the driveway. Very elegant in my opinion.

As you would suspect, I don’t give this one any winter protection, and after our normal lows last year I was a little worried, but slowly he came back to life. All the rain and humidity and heat must really have him feeling at home this summer, so hopefully there will be several more bloom stalks to come.

Cecil has a decent form, not as sloppy a mess as some crinum like to be but that’s just my opinion based on one plant and almost no other crinum experience.

Seems like we’ve left the daylily farm for a Southern excursion, so here’s another thing from down South. Standing cypress (Ipomopsis rubra) is a native to Southeastern North America, or plain America as we in the US like to say, and it’s a cool thing. The hummingbirds agree, and they’re aways buzzing this part of the garden when it’s blooming. Two things though. Everywhere I see it referred to as a biennial or short lived perennial and that’s fine, these plants are from a new seed source and they grew fuzzy rosettes last year with a five foot stalk erupting this summer, but the ones I grow from another source are strictly annuals and never form rosettes and never live beyond year one. Who knows. It’s above my pay grade to wonder if they are all the same species but these are the curiosities which live in my brain so I’m sorry to put it in yours now.

Ipomopsis rubra, paired with the lovely neon green foliage of pokeweed (Phytolacca americana ‘Sunny Side Up’)

The potager is another curiosity. I wonder if I can still call it a potager when 90% of the plantings are not-vegetables, but can’t quite bring myself to admit it’s become another flower farm. Perhaps there’s an authoritative number listed somewhere in France for potager percentages but do supposedly-edible dahlia roots and figs-which-will-never-produce-figs count as veggies and fruit?

Cannas are blooming quite well in and around the potager. This is ‘Cannanova Rose’, an easy, quick to bloom selection which even comes true from seed.

Whatever. Potager it shall remain. If I can get away with calling a couple rows of daylilies a farm than I can stick with potager for this.

My little tropical hiding spot in the potager. Bananas are totally edible and potager approved even if there’s next to no chance I’ll ever see fruit, but the foliage makes up for any missing banana harvest.

I refuse to share a photo of my pathetically anemic tomatoes or the deer-chewed pepper stubs but I will share a single phlox photo. Only one because the rain-fueled hydrangeas have crowded nearly everything else out, but one should get the point across.

The garden phlox are a little late due to an early season deer pruning but they’re finally making a show.

Can I put in a good word for pears? As of today the tree is overloaded with a heavy crop, and although the gardener should have thinned them out for better quality (and to save the tree from collapse) my hope is that a few escape the deer and squirrels and chipmunks and make it to the dinner table. A bushel of Bartlett pears will really put the potager accounting into the black in a way that 3 raspberries, 7 gooseberries, and a half handful of blueberries will not. Someone really should have netted the berry bushes rather than continuously hope the birds ‘miss a few’.

This year’s Bartlett pear crop, heavier each day and hopefully not too heavy.

Maybe the berries didn’t go far in feeding the household, but they did contribute to a steady stream of fledglings coming out of the garden. I don’t really mind the loss, and actually resist netting the fruits since the dopey youngsters tend to get tangled and I prefer a fruitless pancake over a traumatic bird un-netting.

Yet another robin leaving the nest.

So that’s where we’re at. A lot of rambling so I’m wondering if perhaps the heat got to me more than I care to admit but hopefully there was something of interest in there. In spite of all the work summer is still quite excellent and so is the air conditioning when the heat gets to be too much so I really can’t complain. Enjoy your week!

A Clean Slate

Jul23

Well here’s a first. I had photos and a post started, with the usual apologies about the delay and how the pictures were already outdated, and promises to do better next time, and how this would still be the year things turn around completely and I bringing timely posts and amazing content, and then I deleted it. Not through some silly mistake, but because things changed here so much that none of it mattered anymore, and all that anticipation for the daylily farm season became pointless. I liked my daylily farm. It was fun. You may have already noticed the past tense.

I shouldn’t like all the soft colors and fancy ruffles on this Brookside Beauty seedling but I do.

So let me start the story by saying the farm was amazing a week ago with overcrowded plants blooming at their peak with more buds than ever before. It was a garden filled to capacity and I was almost willing to say it looked perfect… except what gardener ever thinks their garden looks perfect… but it was closer than I usually get so things were quite pleasing. I could almost finish the entire morning coffee in the daylily farm alone, and outside the dog becoming bored stuck in one place so long it was the place to be.

I’m starting to like the browns and smoky colors as well. They’re not as showy but…

I even reached the point were I said I really have to do something here, they’re getting crowded and it’s time for a few to move on. Some pictures were taken. A marketing and sales plan was put together. The daylily farm was about to become a cash cow I’m sure 😉

Another pale, yet simpler bloom, ‘Bus Stop’ calms the morning sun on a day which breaks humid and hot.

‘Lake Lurie’ has a paler eye zone and guess what? I’m really starting to like these as well

Here’s one last picture of the daylily farm. I took it with the intentions of posting a sale for anyone local who was interested in helping me clear the fields. Notice the backhoe near the street.

One last farm picture. Peak bloom. The grim reaper sits at the street, slightly hidden by the golden ninebark.

That photo became the before picture for when I needed to show the township just how much was lost. A sewer issue for the house next door warranted a hole near the street for repairs. They told me what needed to be done and I said no problem. “We’ll fix it back as good or better” was the promise, and there was the possibility they’d go as far as five feet in from the street and I might possibly lose the yellow ninebark which blocks some of the excavator from sight in the before picture.

Destruction. The whole daylily farm is bulldozed as well as the lawn and some of the front border.

I was home at the time and had checked in after they dug down to the sewer line. I saw the ninebark go and was a little sad but that’s fine, I was warned. Of course the air conditioning broke that same day so when the repairman came by and we walked out there to check on the unit I almost went into shock when I saw how far things went. Some of the line was damaged during digging, some of the hole collapsed in from under the street, the holes go down at least ten feet and we needed a bigger hole and that’s a lot of dirt and it had to go somewhere. The destroyed daylilies were one thing but snowdrops were also in the area, and it’s not promising to imagine a tiny bulb an inch or two down in the soil being able to stand its ground against a four ton excavator. The daylilies I can replace but the snowdrops not so much. Of course there were a few real expensive ones planted on the edges of the farm beds and around the weeping spruce.

Welcome to Garret Hill Daylilies, a real daylily farm. Where better to go when you’ve lost nearly 100 large, blooming clumps!?

Fortunately the trials of this garden are all manageable. Things could be much worse and most importantly my mom was able to visit just the week before when everything was much cheerier. I’ve already started the repairs, and no, they’re not doing them I am because I want it just so and their version of landscaped might not match mine. I can’t really fault them. Things happen, they could have let me know when they were coming so far onto my property, but when you’re ten feet down in a hole which could collapse around you I understand that’s a little more important. We’re still working out the details of what will make it right again.

The dust is still settling and I’ve already picked up three new clumps to ease the pain! Money can’t buy happiness but it can buy daylilies at least and that’s a start.

So I visited my local daylily farm, Garret Hill Daylilies in Honesdale Pa and started the unnecessary task of finding replacements. Yes I need replacements and they have so many cool varieties available but who among you thought I wouldn’t have a few backups around my own garden? I do and they need moving and more room but I think the healing process should include daylily farms and even more new daylilies 🙂

This one could be divided and for some reason I really like the wide open flowers even if I can’t remember the name at this moment.

The one downside is I’m repairing the damage and creating nearly the same garden as I had before and that’s totally not how I like to roll. Deja vu should be a mysterious feeling, not the realization that I did this all two years ago when my own sewer line was dug for different reasons. I’m building back better which is good, but I wouldn’t be doing this if I had the choice.

Daylilies in with the tomatoes? A good excuse to not plant as many vegetables, but these guys really deserve more room and their own space.

So that’s where I’m at. I get new plants and just have to ignore bulldozer tracks, crushed plants, deer visits, lanternfly plagues, gnat swarms, too much lawn mowing, too much container plant watering, and all the other surprises which a gardener deals with each year. It’s what we sign up for so please don’t feel bad for me, I’m really not upset about it anymore and the only thing still annoying me is the mud and waiting for mulch to arrive.

Hope your July is far less dramatic and you’re enjoying summer as much as I am! …hmmm, reading that back it sounds mildly sarcastic, but summer really is pretty excellent even when you’re losing shoes in the mud and the sweat is running down your face. There’s always the pool and a drink followed by lightning bugs and a fragrant night blooming daylily and you can’t get that in November. Have a great week 🙂

Still Inching to Summer

Jun18

So there’s been a good amount of porch sitting this June and although that sounds good in theory it’s maybe not the ideal scenario due to the reasons for all this sitting around. Reason number one is the rain. Here in NE Pa it just keeps raining and then it rains some more. Hmm. I just looked it up and it appears we have had something close to ten inches of rain since the beginning of last month and maybe that’s not something I needed to know on top of the fact it’s been chilly as well. Much of the porch sitting has included a blanket with a dog on top for additional comfort so to sum it up, wet and cold.

Along the street the daffodils, snowdrops and winter aconite have been covered by the lush, rain-fueled growth of summer perennials. Luckily I mulched last summer. I can’t imagine how many weeds I’d be looking at otherwise.

On the plus side I’ve done very little watering, but on the minus side I should have transplanted and divided more. Oh well, no sense in dwelling on these things, it’s literally all just water under the bridge this year.

The earliest red hot pokers (Kniphofia caulescens) are bringing some warmer color to the garden although I think more sun would make them happier.

For all the complaining this gardener doesn’t mind the cool. I can get through a garden day with just a shower before bed rather than repeated dips in the pool or hosing off every hour to fight heatstroke. Never fear though, the forecast says that’s on our way for the weekend plus a nice mix of severe weather and oppressive humidity to top it all off so it should be fun. Sounds like someone will be opting for day drinking and cleaning out the basement rather than getting to all the neglected jobs which await outside in the swamp.

Alongside the driveway is one of my few attempts at a theme. Purple foliage and whites and grays and I guess pink. The smokebush (Cotinus ‘Royal Purple’) was cut to the ground this spring, so no “smoke”, but the foliage is lush and dark which is nice.

A weedy and lush garden means either closeups or from-a-distance photos so perhaps this post will use that as a theme today rather than relentless weather complaints. Lets begin with weeds, specifically milkweeds. I like them but can’t recommend everyone plant them because of the weed part of their name. Why would you plant a weed is a very valid question, and I guess my only argument is don’t plant the weedy types, plant the clumping types and you won’t be dealing with mile-long runners and suckers coming up everywhere like I am.

Showy milkweed (Asclepsias speciosa) is a nice enough weedy, spreading type, but I’d rather have a form with broader foliage and a good amount of silvery hairs covering the plant. They’re out there, I just need to run one down.

Don’t plant the spreading milkweeds in a flower bed. They will come up everywhere just like my golden cut-leaved sumac (Rhus typhina ‘Tiger Eyes’) does, and just like the sumac, I also love my weedy milkweeds. I just pull them out when they get out of hand and don’t give a second though to the roots below.

The common milkweed (Asclepsias syriaca) is very common here. In my opinion there should be named forms of this. I love the darker flowered ones and have seen white, and wouldn’t mind some darker color in the foliage, so if you could get on that please do so.

Again we are talking about weeds. Lets stop there and move on to a more refined thing such as holiday amaryllis (Hippeastrum). I have a few old pots in bloom now, and even through some heavy downpours they are looking nice. Perhaps it’s not the season, but I didn’t feel like giving them space last winter under lights so they didn’t start into growth until April when they went outside. I would tell you how long I’ve had these plants but it makes me feel old so let me just say over a decade and they have probably bloomed every year since so I can’t complain. On the subject of blooming, I’m always a little surprised when otherwise excellent gardeners claim they have trouble getting them to rebloom. Here’s my two cents… or maybe two nickels as the penny is phased out. Plant them is a mix that has decent drainage and water and fertilize the crap out of them. Ok, maybe not too much fertilizer, but go with a tomato or flower-focused fertilizer, and not one focused on nitrogen. Give them plenty of sun, you want them actively growing all summer, and not just sitting there cramped in their holiday pot wishing they got as much attention as that mother’s day basket nearby. The more leaves they put out the more flower stalks you will get, and if they still don’t succeed then just toss them. Many are weakened by virus, and some just don’t grow well so stop trying to make a freeloader happy and just move on to your milkweed breeding program and buy a new amaryllis or two next winter.

My favorite is the white. It needs dividing since there are at least a dozen bulbs in the pot but with multiple bloom stalks it looks good for weeks.

Let me shift to some more acceptable plants. June is filled with some of the most beautiful flowers so rather than more weeds and out of season holiday flowers, here’s the view of ‘Wartburg’ in the potager. ‘Wartburg’ is not the most glamorous name but I think it still outranks more nauseating things like ‘Pinky Winky’ and industrial names like ‘Bloomerang Dark Purple’, so keep that in mind.

It might be a pink year. Pink New Guinea impatiens are starting to fill in, with the rambling rose ‘Wartburg’ (1910) topping the pergola with a pink froth.

Wartburg is on the way out but still nice thanks to the cooler weather. She’s also been darker this year.

Covering most of the support, I think this is the year I have to do a little more serious pruning before ‘Wartburg’ becomes a bird infested mess. Maybe. I like birds too.

I have other roses through the garden, but am perhaps a little too picky with them. A great show, fragrance, and disease resistance are my main reasons for keeping or trashing a rose, and I’ve trashed a few more than I care to admit. Maybe that sounds bad, but at least I’m not cluttering up my garden with plants I don’t care about. Back in the day they would go into triage for a I’m sorry, let me fix you massive investment of time and effort, but now it’s more a thank-you, next approach. I’ve been happier, you should consider it as well.

Clematis ‘HF Young’ also on the pergola with ‘Wartburg’. Clematis are almost all worthy of growing, I think there have only been two that I lost patience with.

‘Ville de Lyon’ also lives in the potager. She’s a favorite but could probably use a better spot to show off.

So I shall leave off on this thank-you, next theme. June is fresh and promising and all the baggage of the season hasn’t been taken on yet, so don’t waste your time and effort devoting yourself to the neediest and most troubled plants. You don’t want to reach September and realize you wasted your youth trying to fix him when all you really needed to do was sow a few zinnia seeds in the space. Hmmmm, sounds like a pretty good policy in general.

Inching to Summer

Jun7

Well these pictures are only about a week old, so I think that’s an improvement in blog efficiency? They’re just a couple of updates on the garden and I guess the biggest ones are that the gardener hasn’t been too lazy, and the iris were nice, and I felt the pressure to take a few pictures before they were all gone. Honestly though, I can barely remember back this far. These spring days are busy, and so much is focused on what’s next it’s hard to live in the moment let alone remember the past, but I believe this was one of those days when clouds rolled in but not too many, the lawn was longer but not too long, the weeds were growing but not too grown, and I was tired but not too tired to take one more tour around the garden with a camera. So let me start in the most urgent area, my NEED for more chive colors! Chives as you know are an herb nearly everyone can stomach, with a mild onion taste which steps in when parsley is busy elsewhere. I could go on now and possibly bring in all kinds of lore and growing information together and try to make this blog a useful resource… but that’s a lot of work, and I’m pretty sure you could prompt AI to write up as long a discourse on chives as you’d like so here I am empowering you. Copy and past “write a three page paper on the history use, and cultivation of chives” into the prompt at ChatGPT and there you go. Before you know it you’ll be thanking ChatGPT for an interesting read and then asking what it’s doing later and if it has time to chat some more. I guess I should say my goodbyes now and thank you for following this blog for as long as you have.

Pink ‘Forescate’, white ‘Album’, and the typical mauve of chives (Allium schoenoprasum) in the potager. I think they’re amazing.

Before moving on to the last of the iris, let me also mention the fun fact that your innocent looking chives is a widespread species, native to scattered spots in North America, across Europe and Northern Asia, all the way to Korea and Japan, and as such shows plenty of variation, and as such should be in my garden as a strong purple as well as the colors already here. Maybe someday.

Neglected iris (‘Tiffany’, 1935ish) blooming as if they were pampered in a more appropriate spot. Older, ‘historic’ bearded iris are much more forgiving than their ruffly modern cousins, although ‘Tiffany’ here isn’t exactly a plain Jane.

Perhaps it’s obvious, but when we jump right from chives to bearded iris you can see there’s not much planning or organization or connection in the writing of this blog, and to most everyone out there it’s obvious this is an entirely human production and 0% AI, but I guess just like I assume everyone knows I’m not endorsed by the multi-colored chives association when I go on about chives, I also assume you can see there’s no AI contribution to this blog. You knew that of course but I’m rambling tonight so when that happens I tend to re-state the obvious. No AI writing and all the weeds and mess in the photos are real as well. Wow is an AI blog sounding better and better with every keystroke!

Iris ‘Ominous Stranger’ is cool but as a 1992 “historic” it puts this gardener into the historic category. Hmmm. Anyway, let me point out the from-a-bag clematis behind it. Second year from one of those cheap bags which show up in the early spring and are dead by planting season, this ‘Nelly Moser’ survived!

I guess I’m replaceable. Probably not replaceable, but invisible is just as final when this blog is lost in a horde of AI generated articles and banter… all the AI stuff which will soon overwhelm a person’s search results. Come to think of it it’s not unlike the early days of the internet when people were generating tons of cool bits of information, but then slowly it shifted to everyone selling something and the info became a generic lure to one shopping site or another. Oh. Iris. I like the historic ones. They’re hardy and fragrant, and each year I claim I’ll take better care of them and then I don’t.

A weedy patch of ‘Darius’ an 1873 era historic iris.

This might be the year. I want to put a bunch on the berm, so we will see.

‘Color Carnival’, 1949 persists in terrible and wet spots where it can but would rather not. A modern iris planted here would not have been as accommodating and would have become stinky mush years ago.

Honestly iris are some of the most amazing flowers. It’s hard to find an ugly one and I think you can only do it when some of the oddly colored or over-ruffled ones edge into an area which isn’t your taste. A few non-bearded iris which are flowering now (and to my taste) are the yellow flags and their relatives.

Iris ‘Berlin Tiger’ is easy and unique. Maybe not bed of geraniums impressive, but when you get all caught up in the pattern it’s amazing.

Okay, I have to move this iris thing along and won’t mention much on foliage. There’s ‘Gerald Darby’ who emerges in spring with a strong purple color on the foliage which looks great for a couple weeks. The foliage fades to green, but the simple blooms are also nice, and like ‘Berlin Tiger’ he’s easy to grow. A few others have yellow emerging foliage or variegated, or… the iris family is big, there’s plenty to grow. Trust me, you’ll run out of space before you run out of plants to try.

An inter-species cross, ‘Holden’s Child’ has smaller blooms but a long season.

Peonies are starting and I don’t grow many. Peonies, iris, roses, clematis… some of the most beautiful flowers, are all coming on now and you need to be careful before the whole garden is filled with May and June color and there’s nothing left for July. Worse things could happen. You could spend the rest of the summer at the beach if you overdo June, and that’s not bad either.

Peony ‘Do Tell’ was there and I bought it. Now it’s stuffed in where it has to fight off golden hops each summer and that’s probably not ideal. Try to avoid buying every amazing peony you find just like I avoid buying every amazing snowdrop I find. well…. forget that, you do you.

Sorry, as usual I’m going on too much. Let me wrap it up with some wider scenes since the abundant rain has everything lush and excellent, and the gardener has had some success keeping things in order this spring.

The street border is possibly going to get a firm thinning once the Amsonia is done blooming. The Amsonia will be cut back to about 1-2 feet and behave much better than if left alone. Also this will eliminate all the seeds which will otherwise overrun this corner.

Success in May and early June isn’t much of a flex in my opinion, since nearly everything still looks fresh and new right now, but I will take my wins as they come. Last year I was still moving dirt and sowing lawn at this time, so anything looks better than that.

This end of the front border is now anchored by my beloved weeping white spruce (Pinus glauca ‘Pendula’). Someday I should dig up a few baby pictures from when it landed on my doorstep as a tiny mail ordered graft. The golden ninebark (Physocarpus opulifolius ‘Luteus’?) behind the spruce also came here as a twig in a box.

The almost a climber rose ‘Westerland’ is also in the far end of the front border. I love the color but might have to move it to a viewed-from-afar location so I don’t feel as ashamed of the foliage issues later in the year.

One last overview. It appears the potager is becoming the new tropical garden. The banana is out for the year and off to a great start. A brugmansia and cannas have been planted as well, it should be fun.

That’s it on the “wide views” so not as may as I thought, but there’s other fun afoot such as all the other summer stuff which needs to go in on the deck and into pots. Many people take care of this by June first…. I always have some stupid idea slowing me down, like how should I re-invent this wheel?

A friend gifted me a Brazilian plume (Justicia carnea) last year and I love it. The mother plant froze last winter but not before I took a few cuttings (which, just for reference root very easily).

Fortunately the endless rain has kept my neglected pots watered and my optimism alive. Few annuals are going in this year… assuming things don’t hit some major end-of-spring sale temptation… and the bulk of things are out of the winter garden and back for another year. There are still a few new treasures picked up here and there, but overall I have no guilty splurges to confess. Maybe one amazing Brugmansia and a palm that’s taller than me but I’ll only feel guilty if I return to the store today to pick up a second palm. It was $15. It’s taller than I am. It’s like a tropical resort is coming together on my back deck and you know how much a resort trip would cost, so clearly this is a money saving option thank you.

The pot ghetto next to the garage. Let me point out the two flats of dahlia seedlings lower left. ‘Bishop’s Children’ seed from the Mid Atlantic HPS seed exchange and I may fill the potager with dahlias this weekend.

I should get to work and not go palm shopping. We will see, but in the meantime I hope you enjoy an excellent weekend.

Spring is Quite Awesome

May24

Okay. So if this blog post goes up in the next day or two it’s just a three week gap and not four, and I guess that’s better, even if I’m forcing myself to sit here right now and get something done while my heart is saying do nothing, crawl into bed, find a blanket, play mindless phone games….

The violas of spring look great, they love the cool weather and frequent rains, and for once I like the color mix in this pot. Too often I impulsively buy a celebratory mess of spring shades and hope for the best, and then act confused when the colors still look like a mess when planted!

With this week’s chilly and damp weather a blanket is definitely required even though a couple days prior the air conditioning had to go on to fight the heat and humidity. Those temperatures, alongside regular rains and then a little too many rains, has the garden bursting with growth and color and fortunately not with fugus and blight yet, and I hope it stays that way. I grabbed a bunch of pictures last weekend during a gap in the rain, and my favorite subject was the lovely rose ‘Aicha’. I love her soft shade of yellow, the simplicity of her single flowers, and the arching shape to the bush. She has a light fragrance, and right now I can forgive the leaf spot and only a few here-and-there sparse reblooming flowers in late summer.

The yellow of ‘Aicha’ ushers in the yellow/blue/purple phase of the front garden.

I picked up ‘Aicha’ at Der Rosenmeister nursery on a spring trip to Ithaca NY one year, and each summer since it has been a rose dream to make it up to their open garden party (June 13th this year btw) which Leon hosts each year. It’s a party with music and fun, plus hundreds of full-bloom, cold-hardy rambling and climbing roses massed across the grounds of his home. I would make a wish list of course. It took me days of contemplating to fit in just three, so a list would be trouble which I don’t need but where’s the fun in that?

Somewhat fitting into the yellow/blue/purple phase is the variegated Iris pallida ‘Aureo Variegata’ which I love for foliage as much as the lemony scented flowers.

It’s actually still early for roses so lets bask in the show of the bearded iris first. The iris don’t like the rain right now, but last summer’s drought was just what they do like, and this spring they’re showing their appreciation of the previous year’s rot-free dry weather. I probably said I wanted more last summer and then did nothing to accomplish that, so this year I have a plan. I think they would do very well on the berm. I’m at a point where I want to plant something appropriate on the berm, and as long as nobody complains too vigorously about weeds in the iris I think this summer I’ll give it try. Younger me would aim for weeding after planting, but I’m starting to understand my limits as I get a bit more experience, and I can warn everyone right now that the iris on the berm will be weedy and I apologize ahead of time.

‘Sunol’ is an oddly colored iris which would probably do better on a weedy berm rather than the garden since it’s just as crowded, but less sunny here. I believe the “dwarf” blue spruce is squeezing it out faster than I wanted to imagine.

I guess you can’t talk about the May garden without mentioning weeds. One of this year’s goals was to eliminate a few from the garden and mostly from the lawn, and when a friend saw that post they mentioned the idea of a wildflower section in a corner of the lawn as a a safe-zone to balance the weedless-lawn effort. Upon hearing this excellent suggestion I realized that what I wrote was really a bunch of misleading nonsense. Such is often the case for this blog but in this case it gives a totally different picture than intended. I forgot that the lawn purists consider a lawn as a place for grass and only grass, and oh my gosh that’s not what I’m aiming for since in my opinion a grass-only lawn is about as boring as boring can be. My weeds are narrowleaf plantain and creeping charlie. I hate the plantain and have grown tired of the creeping charlie so they are now the two weeds who’s numbers I am trying to reduce. Violets as well but I hesitate to mention that since they’re so beloved, but they seed everywhere and are nearly impossible to get out of flower beds, so enough is enough. My biggest problem in spraying to control these three weeds is that the clover and dandelions are also killed if spray get on them, so I have to be careful and precise to miss them. Hawkweed is also a treasure in my lawn, and to be honest I’ve transplanted plugs to get it into new spots… actually in the older parts of town I’ve seen a lawn or two with a few shades of yellow which I’d love in my own lawn, but I’m not quite ready to knock on doors asking for weed samples. So just to be clear, for me a weed-free lawn is only grass-based, and the green is well spangled with the blooms of a carefully curated blend of colors, just with less plantain mostly because I just don’t like the stuff… unless it’s the wide-leaf form in purple which I guess I do like…

Bearded iris are not weeds in any sense of the term. This is ‘Elsinore’, one of my favorites.

So rest assured this garden is quite safe from a turf obsession. To lose finches picking through dandelion seedheads, bunnies grazing the clover patches, and bees working the birds foot trefoil would be sad. Actually I feel a little concerned when I see a vast expanse of fertilizer-hyped, weed-killer soaked turf and think of the hours wasted keeping it that way and the dollars which could have been spent on better pursuits. Those people obviously never grew a snowdrop nor jealously eyed a patch of English daisies growing in a garden they visited last weekend and then thought of their own pot of English daisies and then spent the next three days staring out at a rainy garden wondering where a good spot would be to plant them in the lawn… Hmmm. You may see why little actual work happens here when the gardener wastes hours thinking about where in the lawn to plant new weeds.

Glaucium corniculatum blackspot or red horned-poppy

The colchicum bed with a few not-colchicums filling in the gaps. The orange poppies are red horned-poppies (Glaucium corniculatum) and love a dry, poor soil which doesn’t speak well of the soil in this bed.

Enough about weeds. May here is about flowers and the enthusiastic growth of plants, and besides the iris here are a few odds and ends of treasures and tasks.

Robin's PlantainErigeron pulchellus 'Lynnhaven Carpet

Matt Bricker will often bring a few non-galanthus goodies to the Galanthus Gala, and one year a pot of Robin’s Plantain (Erigeron pulchellus ‘Lynnhaven Carpet’) came home with me. It’s a nice low groundcover with soft leaves and cheerful daisies in spring and is about as easy to grow as anything.

Not that I’m anything close to a purist but I just noticed the horned poppies and Robin’s Plantain (a daisy not to be confused with the previously mentioned plantain) are North American natives and to keep with a theme for more than a minute here’s one last shrubby, maybe someday small treeish native thing, the red buckeye (Aesculus pavia). In a miserably hot and dry spot on the berm it carries on, growing inch by inch and blooming faithfully each spring. It would like a better spot but carries on well enough with what it has, the show increasingly clashing with the pink and mauve rhododendrons which also suffer on the slope here.

Red buckeye (Aesculus pavia) is listed as a hummingbird magnet but as of yet… it’s just a pretty shrub on the berm. I’m hiding buckeye seeds each year and maybe one day they’ll carpet the industrial park.

That was possibly a full minute of focus on how unfocused I am, but as I’m sure you know there are just so many other things going on it’s hard to stick to a task. A gardener goes out with the ambition of transplanting a sedum but sees a branch to prune and a weed to pull and then gets lost looking for a trowel they remember using two days ago and before you know it the rain started again and you’re wondering why you spent twenty minutes deadheading hellebores instead of mucking leaves out of the pond. There’s a mile long to-do list, which I’m sure is the same for every gardener (and if not and you are that rare exception please keep that an inside thought) and perhaps this weekend the list will get shorter before it gets even longer. I don’t even know what my list says so here’s a guesstimate. Most everything is out for the summer, most vegetables are coming along, a few new plants are here, but the summer bulbs and back porch have not yet been attended to.

The bromeliads are slightly pale but nearly as lush as when they came inside last fall. They’re almost too easy and this gardener is only allowed to buy maybe one or (at most) two new ones this year since that’s ok and not a sign of addiction at all.

On a plus side the garage is still being used for vehicles rather than entering the annual contest to hold as many empty pots, wheelbarrows, boxes, bags of potting soil and tables full of drying bulbs and corms as possible, and to achieve that the driveway has stayed open enough to drive on. It’s basic math since I am out numbered now. Three out of the four drivers here agree that the driveway is better utilized for cars rather than as a makeshift summer nursery/pot ghetto/staging area for excessive plant additions to the garden, and now the gardener is forced to hide his compulsion just around the corner, alongside the garage 😉

golden ninebark seedling Physocarpus opulifolius

My friend Kathy Purdy warns that stray tree and shrub seedlings should be addressed when small and not allowed to sink their roots in and create a removal issue down the line, but… golden ninebark seedlings (Physocarpus opulifolius) are so cute and can’t possibly ever be in the wrong place… right?

That’s it from here. It is now Saturday morning and once the last person asleep here wakes up we shall go to a coffee shop and the two children will make us breakfast… assuming we pay for it and tip them as well, and then after that I’m sure something will get done here even if your guess is as good as mine as to what it will be. The lawn needs cutting, so I’ll probably head outside and start by planting petunias next door and then check the pool filter. Maybe I’ll eventually find that trowel again, who knows, but in the meantime I hope you have a wonderful spring weekend!

Please Tiptoe

May3

Oh my gosh, does this blog still even exist? >insert excuses, apologies, delusional hopes for the future< Well I guess it does, and as you know spring moves fast and I don’t so here’s an update from last Saturday when I thought I could take a few photos and do a quick post before the sun sets on the Sunday… or Monday… or Wednesday…. or

The front border was beautiful last weekend. Individual blooms are a bit beat up, but from a distance nobody cares.

Believe it or not the gardener here has actually been somewhat useful, even if he’s not a good blogger. The to-do list is still behind a few months and some things have already been quietly pushed onto the 2026 list, but overall there has been a mild sense of progress. Hopefully it shows. There’s a huge pile of branches and small tree trunks which shows less attractively than tulips but as always the garden is a work in progress.

A double tulip from back in the day. They were planted a decade or so ago yet still show up here and there depending on where a bulblet dropped or what other plant was moved or removed.

Maybe it’s best to just focus on the tulips. For a week or so some hot weather brought them on too quickly and then wilted the edges, but then cool weather returned for the weekend and they were awesome. Maybe not the best year but good enough, and even though many were missing you can’t complain too much during tulip season so lets focus on the good!

An exceptional crowd of ‘Pink Impression’ alongside some unknown purples.

Ok, maybe a clump of pink tulips is the bulk of the ‘good’. The masses of flowers in the potager are missing this year and in spite of all the trouble and work they involve I really miss them. I blame dry weather when they should have been growing last year, I blame too much wet when they should have been going dormant, and I blame a gardener who got discouraged and then let mice and squirrels have their way with the curing bulbs. Whatever. Gardener forgiven and let me say I really am enjoying the tulips this spring even if my mood this morning does not lend itself to expressing that emotion.

A tray of species tulips (Tulipa clusiana) which were meant to sell at the Gala but just weren’t looking like much that morning. Two months later they’re highlighting the driveway and will be planted out once the blooms fade and I think they’ll do very well in a sunny spot.

Maybe I’m grumpy because I’m not attending the Sakonnet Plant Fair in Little Compton Rhode Island this morning. Each year it grows into something even more tempting and each year I’m even more envious of all the plant nerds who are able to spend the day browsing. Under the guiding hand of Ed and Taylor of the plant nursery Issima the event has grown and perhaps you’ll get an idea of the kind of treasures you’ll find at this sale if you take a look at their offerings. These are exactly the kind of plants I like trying and buying, even if in my heart I know they won’t get the care they need in this garden to truly flourish. But often times they do, and they turn into the “Oh!” plants which every gardener needs.

Not much ‘Oh!’, it’s sparse tulip year in the Potager.

Well look at that. Just talking about the Fair has brightened my mood and I guess all I have to do now is promise to take better care of the spring bulbs and everything will be as it should 🙂

As another plus, the few tulips which have returned look exceptionally healthy this spring. As long as there’s enough sun to dry them out after each rain I think they’ll make excellent bulbs for next season.

So does better care mean more bulbs? Yeah probably, because although the tulips are still excellent I think the daffodil situation could use some work, and by more work I mean dividing and replanting and maybe a few new ones this summer. I’ve been good. I think I earned them.

Many of the daffodils here are quite average but for whatever reason I love them more than I should. This is ‘Capitol Hill’ which is an absolute favorite even if it’s somewhat average, and too old to be new and too new to be old.

I still won’t buy more tulips though. The species tulips didn’t count of course because they were for a sale, so with that out of the way I can still claim I haven’t bought any new tulips for a couple of years. I don’t say this as something to be proud of, I just want to point out my restraint which to some people is a good thing. Here’s my show of restraint in terms of the potager tulips, which are now in the daylily farm, which of course is not where they should be, and puts a bit of a damper on putting daylilies into the daylily farm.

Somehow a couple hundred of the potager tulips went missing and these are all that’s left. They will multiply I’m sure, maybe not as fast as I’d like them to but that’s good since I still have to figure out how to grow daylilies and tulips and maybe cannas and dahlias all in the same daylily farm.

Enough about tulips and daffodils. Let me just gloss over everything else so that I can claim to be up to date on this blog.

The woodland beds, aka snowdrop beds, are coming to life. The shredded umbrella plant (Syneilesis aconitifolia) is cool and I wonder how much cooler a named form with variegation or a purple or yellow flush to the foliage would be. Probably much much cooler.

Fritillaria are one thing I do want to point out quickly. They generally enjoy short lives here but two are at least trying and obviously I should show some appreciation for that effort. Fritillaria mealegris likes the mucky side garden by the pond and is seeding around and clumping up and is ever so intricate with its checkered blooms and snake-head elegance.

Fritillaria meleagris (snake’s head fritillary) not showing up well amongst the fallen petals of a purple magnolia.

Fritillaria pallidiflora is the other frit which I’d like to mention, and in this case it really is to brag. I grew it from seed you know, and it took years and even if you can buy 5 bulbs for like $5 online I think my years of patience in this one last seedling are a far better investment. For reference, the week after I saw these first buds coming along a friend posted a photo of his ‘weedy’ clumps which seed all over the place, but I didn’t let that tarnish the joy of my two blooms at all. Mine will come along I’m sure, even if it takes another 20 years.

Fritillaria pallidiflora in a shaded, woodlandy snowdrop bed. It seems happy in this spot and I hope it stays that way.

You know what doesn’t require much fuss? Epimediums. I’ve been trying to avoid collecting yet another plant but these are so tolerant of abuse and independent in the face of neglect that even a random one by one planting starts to build up. A better gardener would keep track of their names just in case they started to accumulate like this, because of course people appreciate a name when you share a piece, but so far that’s been hit or miss and hopefully nobody asks about names on the ‘other ones’. I’m sure it will be fine, right?

Epimedium ‘Pink Champagne’ is one which shows off more than a few of my others. They’re all interesting things but not every one shows off at a distance greater than ten feet.

What else… The native Virginia bluebells are back and should be reseeding and slightly weedy even though they’re not. I don’t think my garden is quite the fertile lowland woodland which they prefer and that’s fine I guess since a mass of them could be a floppy mess once they’re finished.

Mertensia virginica is a beautiful native bluebell which will go dormant once things get warm and it goes to seed. This should fill a woodland, I should try convincing someone to do this in their garden since mine is a little too small for sheets of blue.

And that’s about it. Besides chopping things down and just enjoying spring flowers there’s been an unusually suburban focus on the lawn this year. I’m actually somewhat embarrassed to admit that the lawn was mowed twice this week to keep up with the rain and fertilizer and at one point I even sprayed for a few of the worst weeds. Usually the lawn is a burden (and I’m not ruling that out come July) but so far this year I’m slightly obsessed. Maybe this will give me a little more street credit in a way flowers and tiny bulbs do not and maybe that’s what I needed in my life even if I didn’t think it. Never fear though. Enough weeds remain that I am still safe from any Scott’s endorsements even if there might not be enough to keep the lawn haters satisfied. Actually while I’m at it in confessing to untrendy things, I might as well mention the privet hedge I’m starting. Yes, privet is invasive in the south so shouldn’t be planted, but here it’s been a standard for at least the last hundred years so I think I can sneak in under some kind of grandfather clause. It’s not native, but neither am I, it’s overly formal to keep trimmed, but that’s what I want, it’s kind of boring and maybe a monoculture, but… we will see. I have a weakness for formal hedging even though natural and native is more PC, so until this fever breaks we will see if a privet hedge was what I needed.

In the future a privet hedge will possibly surround last year’s pumpkin patch. As with everything here it’s a work in progress.

In all honesty there’s a real strong chance this hedge thing will come to naught since when I say ‘planted a privet hedge’ I really mean I stuck in a few pieces of privet trimmings along a line where I’d like a hedge. It’s probably too late in the year to do that. I probably used the wrong pieces. I did nothing to prep the soil or care for things afterwards. Maybe it can’t even be done but I tried it anyway and in a nutshell this latest idea pretty much sums up how everything in this garden rolls. Bad ideas, executed poorly and haphazardly and then put off for longer than they should be and then recognized as the work of an idiot but somehow enough things work out to make it all fun again. At least it gives me something to ponder while sitting around, and in May a little sitting around is almost always a good thing.

I hope you can enjoy a little sitting around yourself, and that May is off to a good start. Perhaps May is when this blog becomes more regular and this blogger rejoins friends in the blogging community but a reality check says August is probably more realistic. The heat of summer has a way of rewriting and shortening the to do list and until that happens 😉

‘Tis the Season

Mar23

Last weekend there was a snowdrop brunch here. That sounds kind of fancy but in reality it wasn’t, even if we did use real plates instead of paper. I owed my friend Kevin for helping out at the Gala, and thought breakfast would be a good start, but when he already had plans with another friend who just happens to be Kimberley of Cosmos and Cleome I thought let me invite them both. I had been cleaning up the garden all week, and the lure of food might be my best chance at getting someone other than the dog to look at a few snowdrops with me, so the three of us made plans and another name was suggested, two more people were added, and when someone offered to bring a dessert I had to rename our breakfast to brunch since you know you can’t have a dessert after only eating a few scrambled eggs. Plus I wanted to sleep in of course, and not everyone wants breakfast at 11.

‘Blonde Inge’ is a dainty little snowdrop with the added touch of a yellow mark inside. Sometimes the inner glow makes the whole bloom shine but I’m sure that’s just my imagination.

The brunch went well. I believe with the exception of a horribly weak second cup of coffee which I tried to pass off as drinkable, everyone found a bite to eat and something interesting to talk about and the time passed a little to quickly. I got nervous. What if all these people just came here to hang out and eat and no one wants to freeze outside, crawling from snowdrop to snowdrop admiring how different each and every one is and what kind of history it has and how tricky it is to grow and does it multiply well and where did I get it from and…

A ‘Blonde Inge’ seedling. Very similar to mom, but oh so much more amazing because she was born here in this garden.

Eventually I passed out coats and people took the hint. I had fun. People looked cold. Not everyone seemed to care about how ‘Wisley Magnet’ differed from ‘Foxgrove Magnet’, so I think pancakes will still be required to get them back again, but from my perspective it seemed so much healthier to finally be seen talking to other people in the garden rather than myself. I hinted at food and another visit for daffodils and people seemed open to the idea so hopefully with any luck this wasn’t a one and done deal.

Green tipped ‘Viridapice’ with a flush of yellow winter aconite. I know I show these way too often but this is probably my favorite mix of late winter color.

My favorite comment of the day was something to the effect of ‘What the F*&k Frank, how do you have so much flowering!?’ and generally people had other nice things to say as well, but to my shock not everyone wanted to look at each and every clump, and it was more of a yellow vs green, that one is so much larger, and oh look a double, conversations. So rather than find all new friends who will probably eat just as much I’ll just babble on to you about a few of my favorites for this year… and try and not repeat all the favorites which show up as my ‘maybe favorites’ every other year. Key word there is “try”.

A newer snowdrop for me, galanthus ‘Greenfields’ is completely boring and average, but perfectly formed and sturdy and crisply colored with dark green marks on a good sized and pristinely white flower.

Several snowdrops have come up paler this year, including ‘Ivy Cottage Corporal’. Before people began seeing faces in their snowdrops, the people at Ivy Cottage saw the insignia marks for the rank of corporal in this drop.

‘Dick’s Early Yellow’ is just that, and an excellent grower as well.

Last season ‘Midas’ barely bothered with yellow, choosing green instead but this year the color is closer to gold. Brighter days perhaps?

I think of galanthus ‘Elizabeth Harrison’ as an aristocrat amongst snowdrops. She’s a little delicate and can be fussy, but when everything is going her way the bright yellow and white against grass-green foliage strikes me as quite elegant.

Galanthus ‘EA Bowles’ is amazingly beautiful but died off on me a few years ago. Fortunately a friend was able to give me another start and now he’s settled back in and doing well. Good thing, since my friend went on to lose her clump and now hopefully I can share a piece back again this summer.

As American as a snowdrop can get, ‘Carol Simcoe’ was found in a wild population around Allentown Pa and was introduced by Gerald Simcoe and named after the artist’s mother.

In the 1940’s Heyrick Greatorex named a group of doubles which some people seek out. My favorite is ‘Cordelia’ with her long-lasting, sturdy and upright flowers, but the others which I grow may or may not be the true forms, and may or may not be as favored.

For no reason other than my own curiosity, I’m excited about this entirely average snowdrop seedling. The potential mom is behind and I thought she never sets seed but along comes a seedling which shares her long, narrow ovary but with bigger flowers and wider leaves. I think they’re related and I think I like the mix.

So I think I did fairly well there with minimal babbling and maximum efficiency and I also think that summary reflects my whole snowdrop season in general this year. It was too cold, then it became too warm, and for the last week too windy and too stormy. The warmth pushed everything along in some spots but barely thawed the soil in others. The wind made snowdrop viewing uncomfortable and some strong rain beat up a few things even more, but in between there were still a few perfect moments and that’s all I ask.

The first flowers of the Dutch hybrid crocus always signals the downside of the snowdrop season. The garden will be nonstop from now on!

I hope your season is reving up and full of promise as well, and that it brings you joy. For a few days yet everything seems under control and so well planned, but then the tidal wave of weeds, weather, and watering hits and there’s barely a moment to breath, and if you end up there stop. Make sure you have time to breath and enjoy. I shall be doing that today… unless of course I shovel and move a few tons of dirt to level some dips in the lawn next door which will then need seeding and watering and then perhaps I’ll get to my own back lawn which has plenty of spots which need to be a few inches higher and will also need a couple tons of dirt spread and then I probably have to run out for more grass seed and the first box of ordered plants is sitting on the porch steps… and well… *breath*

Here Comes the Sun

Mar10

What a beautiful weekend. A little windy, a little cold… actually if you went by the commentary which followed nearly everyone’s observation on me working outside you would say it was a frigid weekend… but it was perfect. I cleaned up the front yard, it looks amazing in my opinion but others do not like all the autumn leaves which mulch the street bed. Okay maybe it looks a bit messy and they could have been mulched a little more, but if that’s what’s distracting you after weeks of frozen soil and cold winds well then I can’t help you. Color is back and I’m ready to enjoy.

Some of the first snowdrop plantings here have matured nicely. This is a favorite spot along the front of the house and the shelter from the wind brings everything on a little earlier.

‘Straffan’ in front and ‘Brenda Troyle’ in back. Also a sheltered spot, right up against the porch. Normally ‘Straffan’ is a little later, but I guess this year everyone is anxious for spring.

The rabbits have been caught off guard and didn’t realize the first crocus (‘Tatra Shades’) are ready and waiting. They should find them by tomorrow.

Hamamelis ‘Barmstedt Gold’ is amazing this spring. I might need to collect even more witch hazels 🙂

The driveway soaks up the sun’s warmth and keeps this bed warm enough to bring on a full flush of snowdrops and winter aconite. Cyclamen coum are on the way as well!

The winter aconite in this bed are a mix of the straight species Eranthis hiemalis, plus pale yellow ‘Lightning’ (which is already starting to look tired), and the faded yellow of ‘Schwefelglanz’. I love them all.

The newer snowdrop plantings need to fight for their space. This Dryad Gold snowdrop was planted a little too close to the giant reed grass patch, and I’ll need an axe and a pick to free up the delicate little thing.

‘Bloomer’. I’m showing this just because none of them sold at the gala and it’s one of my absolute favorites. On the plus side I replanted the unsold ones as a second clump, and perhaps next year will be their year!

So that was a hit and run post. I don’t think anyone will miss me prattling on about all kinds of nonsense and I wanted to get these photos up before I take another twenty or two hundred tomorrow! Enjoy your week 🙂

The Recap

Mar8

So what can I say? David Culp’s Gala was fun. Great seeing people excited about snowdrops, talking way too much about snowdrops, amazing lectures about snowdrops, and in general excited about the new gardening year. Selling went well. I was remarkably okay with seeing snowdrops leave my garden, somewhat insulted that a few favorites didn’t sell, and then just fine with bringing a bunch home for replanting. But… I was unusually luke-warm to new purchases and plant shopping in general. For the first time ever I tried to come back with more money in my pocket than when I went down, and in hindsight that was a terrible mindset since there were only 5 new snowdrops for the return trip and now I have to sit for months with only five new snowdrops when I really think all that work should have earned me dozens of new snowdrops!

And for the first year ever I didn’t treat myself to a new ‘Brandywine Hybrids’ hellebore. They were perfect, and seeing the others in the garden starting to stir to life makes the regret even harsher.

Each year the Gala hellebores are amazing. After years of coveting doubles I’m back to singles and any of the picotees or the purple stained whites could have easily joined me for the ride home.

I was distracted though. Maybe even stressed? The day worked out perfectly, but to be honest I woke up at 1 that morning sick to my stomach and got to enjoy that feeling right up to the minutes before the doors opened.. .and then in typical fashion it lifted right as the excitement began.

A few seconds after the doors opened. Tables are full, hands are empty, there’s little socializing but some real intense table scanning! Fyi this is the Suburban Home Nursery table, manned by the always entertaining Kevin and my exceedingly competent cashier-daughter.

Also in typical fashion I took next to no pictures. Just like every other year I’ll apologize and promise better but I think we know the truth, and it’s probably for the best too since 10 out of 10 family members will only use me as the last resort when it comes to any type of event photo. “ugh, just delete them all. Where’s mom?” should be a warning/reminder sticker on the back of my phone.

Edgewood Gardens warming up and coloring up with Adonis amurensis

I think it was mentioned that rather than work my own table, I had already committed to working the Edgewood table for the Gala, and a perk to this was a leisurely tour of Edgewood Gardens the day before. The week of above freezing weather had paid off. Things were embracing the weather and bursting out of the ground and starting off on that spring flush of color. Hellebores, winter aconite, Adonis, witch hazels, crocus… and of course snowdrops were scattered throughout the garden. At one point I was even unsupervised, and the low light, flowers, and bird song were enough to make me want to soak up the moment rather than consider what might fit into my pocket.

The best clump of ‘Blewbury Tart’ I’ve ever seen. How silly of me to have given this plant a lukewarm review years ago, I should have known it was more my growing skills and not the drop.

To round it out it was an excellent weekend. I was almost tempted to return this weekend for the Bend to Bank lecture at Winterthur, and hear Anne Repnow give a talk, but alas it might be time to spend a weekend at home. Trust me there’s plenty to do.

A coldframe inspection at Edgewood Gardens. Quite a few treasures here, both inside and out!

Will I do what needs to be done? Probably, if I can only get started. Last night was spent browsing houseplants on some fraudulent website, and then this morning I had to spend time canceling my credit card and getting it re-issued, but honestly entertaining the dog and cleaning the kitchen took more time than that. The garden is still waiting 🙂

A terrible picture of winter aconite (Eranthis) opening up alongside the snowdrops. I love these first cautious blooms.

So blog post done, maybe breakfast and a shower wouldn’t be the worst ideas either, and then maybe it’s time for a little work outside. Just because I stayed home to get things done doesn’t mean it will happen!

Enjoy your weekend, and prepare for the onslaught of even more snowdrop photos while I second guess the witch hazel and primulas which I also did not buy last weekend. Grrr.

Off to the Gala!

Feb28

I have a gift. Many people have special gifts, but mine is the gift of chaos. I’ve been told that in the midst of chaos I come across as very calm, but the truth is I’m just used to it, since for as far back as I can remember whenever things can go wrong they did, and when it can’t possibly look worse it does, and I guess the silver lining is that it always works out in the end. Kind of along the same line of thought as “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”… except I’m not sure I’d like to push it that far, and I’m just fine sticking with ‘What doesn’t ruin everything might make for a nice story in a few years’. To sum it up, eventually the birthday stitches come out, the garden tour which finished up in the ER becomes a story, and you find a new job after cutting the vacation trip short.

Melting snow has finally arrived, and this exceptionally early winter aconite (Eranthis hyemalis ‘Lightning’) and a few other early risers can finally begin to show off.

I was lucky this time. No toothache on Christmas Eve, but with a table to set up at David Culp’s Galanthus Gala in Downington Pa this Saturday, I shouldn’t have been surprised something would happen. First the car went. I wanted to finish up making labels but first the car had to get to the dealer. Then the water heater went. I just wanted to pot up a few more things. Then the garage door broke when I wanted to move things out and into the other car. Then my nephew told me he was indeed sick and would not be able to help sell… and would also not be able to give my other helper a ride down to Downington. Good times, but also silver lining time. We were able to lift the garage door and roll the car out, the repair bill came in about 2k less than expected, the door is also set for repair, the heater is fixed, a new helper has been tapped,and a new plan to get the other helper down has been set up… even the labels got done. Was it touch and go for a few hours? Maybe, but I’m back to excited and won’t even consider the repair bills until after this weekend’s adventure!

‘Wendy’s Gold’ is probably my favorite for an early bright spot. She waits for the first warm days, sprouts, and never looks back.

So that’s enough woe is me for one post because seriously it’s just life for every one else, except for me there’s the added fun of ‘dramatic timing’. The thing happens and I just look to the heavens and say “good one. Did not even see that one coming”.

Winter interest in the garden is about done for the season. Should old hellebore foliage be removed before blooming? I would have to say yes, and that might be the first thing I do once things calm down here.

So tomorrow in spite of whatever still comes my way I’m off to the Gala with my goodies. It’s been a solidly cold winter… one which coincidentally seemed to start the day after I agreed to sell a few things from the garden… but the silver lining is a burst of warmth in the days right before. Let me share how a few things have turned out.

With everything freezing solid outside, I potted up a few clumps of English bluebells (Hyacinthoides non-scripta) for a just-in-case scenario. English bluebells are kinda awesome and fairly hard to find so of course I’m keeping a bunch.

There will be English bluebells, spring snowflakes (Leucojum vernum), and of course snowdrops and winter aconite. They look pretty good and I would buy them, but not everything came through. Another just-in-case scenario had potfuls of species tulips, and they just don’t look like much so I’m leaving them here. Really. They are barely sprouting and don’t look like much so in the garage they stay and I’m absolutely not leaving them behind because I want more species tulips.

Leucojum vernum out of the garden of my friend Paula. I think they look great and if you’re thinking how much? I suppose $25 a pot will be the price even though I’m worried they’ll all sell and they’re another thing I wouldn’t mind having more of in the garden.

Besides the threat of chaos there’s another thing which gives me sweaty palms on the eve of the Gala. I’m not a good salesman. I don’t really want to get rid of any of my snowdrops so I’d actually be just fine bringing dozens back and replanting them, and I’m afraid my sales pitch will reflect that. They look so nice all potted up. It makes me think of a greenhouse filled with pot after pot of perfect snowdrops and what a shame it would be if I had to build a greenhouse next week because just having snowdrops in the ground isn’t good enough anymore. Hmmm.

Some of the potted goodies awaiting the sale. A few varieties were potted up too early and did not like the last cold blast (their flowers were burned) but most look quite happy. I hope there’s enough variety to be interesting.

If you’ve been to the Gala you may know there’s an auction which goes on. My friend Paula gave me a drop to donate, and I know I’ll feel a little light-headed when I hand it over. A Dutch drop named in 2020, ‘Snowdropfever’s Nelly’s Birthday’ is a vigorous, early, large-flowered snowdrop with strong green markings on the outer petals, and a full green inner. It’s about ready to split into three bulbs, which of course will make for an even better show next year, but even now I think it looks just dandy. Of course Paula found a small offset to share with me, she knows how I am. I hope it grows quickly!

galanthus snowdropfevers Nell's Birthday

Galanthus ‘Snowdropfevers Nelly’s Birthday’. I think it’s been in bloom at least two weeks and the green has only faded a bit. It’s a cool drop.

So I’m looking forward to the day. Oddly enough I won’t even be behind my own table, I’ll be helping out at Edgewood Gardens, only a few steps away, and hopefully that is far enough so I don’t keep taking things off my own table “on second thought” to take back home, because between that and all the other vendor tables there’s a high probability the car is fuller on the return trip than it was going down. We will see.

If I see you there, great! If I don’t I shall try this time (just like I try and fail every time) to take some decent pictures of the day to share later on. Maybe I’ll even try and take a picture of a person or two, because I notice that people somehow manage to do that in spite of all the horticultural distractions and maybe it’s time I broaden my horizons 😉

Gala or not I wish you a wonderful weekend, and I hope you’re also finally experiencing some sort of a warmup and feeling the promise of spring!

sorta like suburbia

more than you ever wanted to know about my garden