PlantPostings

Night shots of marshmallow snow

2012-02-23T22:54:00.003-06:00

I wish I could post about Crocuses, Snowdrops, and Daffodils. But this is the scene in my garden tonight.

It's actually quite entrancing, and I'm sure it will be breathtaking tomorrow morning in the daylight. But I thought these night shots provided an interesting black and white, sepia-tinged contrast. I honestly didn't edit them much. They were shot at a slow shutter speed with backyard floodlights.

It's hard to believe the Redbud and Burning Bush that look like this tonight...

Will look like this come May...

A wedding planner’s dream

2012-02-21T21:41:00.000-06:00

What did we do before iPads, Facebook, and Pinterest? Before that, how did we get by without email and the Internet? Seriously!

I didn’t “get” Pinterest until a few weeks ago. I’ve had an account for several months since Hanni’s (Sweet Bean Gardening) great review and invitation to join the fun. But I didn’t “get” it. I thought, “Wow, this is fun but I don’t have time for another social media site.”

Then one day I started thinking about floral arrangements—one of my other hobbies. And I realized Pinterest would be a fun place to look for inspiration. Boy, was it ever! In just one trip to Pinterest I found unique combinations of flowers and foliage in fascinating color schemes and creative arrangements.

That got me thinking about my own wedding bouquet—a lovely arrangement of Cymbidium and Dendrobium Orchids, delicate dusty pink Roses, and a touch of Asparagus Fern foliage.

We all have aspects of our weddings that fall a bit short of expectations (my cake), and others that exceed expectations (my bouquet).

With Pinterest, though—gosh, with the Internet in general—wedding planning would have been so much easier. The old-fashioned method was to call the florist (the church, the baker, the hall, etc.), arrange for a visit, look at pages and pages of pictures in sample albums, make choices, and then have faith that the flowers (and everything else) would match the vision.

Now, using Pinterest, you can line up dozens of bouquets side by side on a screen in the comfort of your own home—no paper images or printed photos required!

Pinterest has its issues, and we’re all trying to figure out how to use it ethically. But I think it’s here to stay. It’s an especially excellent tool for those of us visual people who like to really “see” things before we make decisions..and before we buy things.

OK, I admit I didn’t need Pinterest to have a perfect wedding bouquet…and a pretty decent wedding and marriage. But if anyone (kids? grandkids? friends?) ever asks me for help planning a wedding, I know where I’ll be spending a lot of time…

A change of plans in the terrarium

2012-02-14T21:22:00.003-06:00

A couple of weeks ago I posted about my new terrarium, which still appears to be a healthy little ecosystem. But I had to make a slight change. After reading up on Phalaenopsis Orchids, I realized mine would be much happier outside the terrarium with more air circulation. The challenge: once again, keeping the cats away from the plant. The solution: a cage I'd been using to keep the cats away from my candles.

Removing the Orchid from the terrarium meant I needed a focal point to take its place. After plenty of "research" on Pinterest, I decided to go with a small gazing ball. (Actually, it's a repurposed Easter egg decoration, but you'd never know, right?) In any case, it fills the spot quite well.

BEFORE

AFTER

WITH GAZING BALL

Plus, now the Orchid is free and I can have a closed terrarium!

But now I need another cage or terrarium for my new Cyclamen plant. I don't want the cats to eat this beauty.

(Happy Valentine's Day and Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day! And thanks to Carol at May Dreams Gardens for hosting the bloom day theme.)

To attract a gardener, grab a rake

2012-02-11T21:55:00.001-06:00

I must have garden water features on my mind. After attending this weekend's Wisconsin Garden Expo, I came home to download my photos and a definite theme became apparent:

That last one even had koi fish in it.

The hubby spent a lot of time looking at ponds and fish tanks, so I'm thinking a water feature is definitely in our future. But one of these smaller ones might be more our speed.

But there were other highlights, too. We also took in the sights and smells of spring bloomers...

Giant Coleus plants with leaves the size of my hand...

Decorative garden leaf impressions...

And some pretty hanging vases...

But the funniest thing happened when we were just about to leave. We ran into a friend holding a high-quality rake, which spurred a discussion about the great prices on rakes. We ended up buying two rakes, ourselves, and then at least four or five people stopped to talk to us and ask about our rakes. "Why did you buy them?" they asked, or "What's with the rakes?" The hubby called them "chick magnets." But the truth is, guys were asking about them, too. Seems all you have to do to attract gardeners at a garden expo is hold a rake!

Nearly wordless: unprepared!

2012-02-08T07:00:00.002-06:00

(I could have photographed this hoar frost for hours, but I was unprepared! All I had with me during a brief lunch break was my late-model camera phone. Time to upgrade!)

A terrarium for every room

2012-02-03T00:21:00.002-06:00

I planted a terrarium last weekend and the plants are still alive!

In fact, they appear to be thriving. Apparently everyone in the Madison area is doing the same thing—at least that’s what the sales clerk at the greenhouse told me.

And terrariums are making a resurgence nationwide, according to Better Homes and Gardens. Some of the benefits mentioned by various sources include their low maintenance needs, the fun of creating a micro tropical forest, and the low cost of the materials.

But one of the main reasons I decided to start one is my cats. Sorry to be gross, but one cat eats plants, and the other one eats the soil and uses it for certain unmentionable purposes.

Last winter, I longingly viewed pictures of beautiful houseplants on my favorite blogs, but I had to look the other way...because of my cats. Sure, I could put the plants up on a high shelf or a ledge. But that is so inconvenient for watering purposes, so over the years I’ve pretty much given up on houseplants.

Then about midwinter 2011, I watched a segment on CBS Sunday Morning about terrariums, and I started noticing them on blogs. A light bulb clicked on in my head and I thought: “I can have my cats and houseplants, too! A closed terrarium will keep the cats out of the plants!” The idea percolated in my mind until spring, when I got busy with other things, and the list of excuses went on and on. Until last weekend, when I decided to just do it!

Before I describe the materials and the steps I followed to create the terrarium—which you can find very easily by Googling “terrarium” and “steps” or other similar words—I should share a few mistakes I made. Because most “how to” lists don’t mention those things, but they’re good to know.

First, plan in advance where you’ll get your plants. Shop around for a greenhouse or a florist that carries very tiny tropical plants. Or wait until spring or summer when annual seedlings are plentiful at garden centers. I stopped at four retailers before I found plants that would fit and thrive in a terrarium.

Next, make sure you have all the materials ready, or plan to spend a day or so shopping for them. Even though we had many of the items on hand, I still had to make a few extra trips for supplies.

Don’t plant a Phalaenopsis Orchid in a closed terrarium. The more I read about Orchids, the more I’m realizing they have different habitat needs than other terrarium plants. Phals need more air circulation, and the whole point of a closed terrarium is that you mist it at the beginning and then neglect it. No need to water a closed terrarium—for weeks on end!

Now here’s what went right for me, and here’s how it came together:

Materials

A large glass container with a lid. My hubby bought these for me, but you can use just about any glass container.

Small rocks and/or pebbles. Gather these from your yard or buy decorative ones from a craft shop. But don’t use beach rocks—apparently the salt kills the plants.

Activated charcoal. You can use acquarium charcoal from a pet supply store or borrow it from a spouse or friend who already has a supply on hand. Charcoal filters the terrarium air, and keeps the air and the soil fresh.

Potting soil. Any basic, quality potting soil will do. Most of us already have bags of it, right?

Sphagnum moss. I had a bag of it from a previous craft project, but you can buy it at greenhouses and craft stores.

Decorative rocks and figurines for the top of the terrarium. Again, craft stores should have plenty of these in stock.

The plants. Research this part in advance and, as I mentioned before, check around for suppliers.

A reliable water mister. As the terrarium gets established, it will need light misting a few times a week. If it’s an open terrarium it will probably need a weekly light misting. A closed one rarely needs it.

To pull it all together:

1. Select a location with bright, indirect light for your terrarium. We have an egress window that’s the perfect spot for a terrarium—lots of bright southern light, but it doesn’t shine directly on the spot.

2. Place small pebbles and rocks in the bottom of the container to a depth of about one to two inches.

3. Sprinkle a light layer of charcoal on top of the pebbles.

4. Add a layer of Sphagnum Moss to prevent the soil from settling into the rocks.

5. Add potting soil. It will settle a bit, but don’t fill the terrarium too close to the top—especially if you want to close the lid.

6. Place your plants in the terrarium! I planted Arrowhead Vine (Syngonium podophyllum)…

English Ivy (Hedera helix)…

Tropical Yew (Podocarpus)…

Moon Valley (Pilea involucrate)…

Button Fern (Pellaea rotundifolia)…

and Miniature Phalaenopsis Orchid (Phalaenopsis sogo gotris ‘flora ark’).

7. Mist the works, place the top on, and enjoy! I've been misting mine daily because I have to leave the lid ajar for the Orchid.

But I’m thinking of pulling out the Orchid and placing it in its own open-air terrarium. Then I’ll have room for a Cyclamen! Maybe I should add a terrarium to the dining room, and the living room, and the family room…

(For more advice on starting terrariums, visit Dee at Red Dirt Ramblings. She’s a pro, and has a large collection of unique terrariums.)

Versatility during the ‘dog days’ of winter

2012-01-29T22:32:00.001-06:00

Usually, the term “dog days” is associated with the hottest, muggiest days of summer. But one Merriam-Webster definition of the term is “a period of stagnation or inactivity.” In this climate, in this part of the world, at this time of year, we’re in the dog days of winter.

The scene outside my window—as pretty as it is—doesn’t change much from day to day.

So when I received a note from Helene at Graphicality-UK, saying she had awarded me the “Versatile Blogger Award,” it made my day. In fact, it pretty much made my week!

Thank you, Helene!

Without further ado, here are the rules of the award:

· Post the Versatile Blogger Award. Check.

· Thank the blogger who nominated you with a link back to their blog. Thanks, again, Helene!

· In the same post, share seven completely random pieces of information about yourself. Hmmm, let’s see:

I’m a plant geek. I suppose that’s obvious, but I’m realizing I was pretty much born this way.
I don’t always remember the Latin or even the common names of the plants I love, but I do my best. This blog helps me to keep track.
I avoid the cold as much as possible. Funny, I know, from someone who grew up in the Midwest, but I’ve had frostbite a few too many times.
I’m a former member of a Monty Python fan club. (This is supposed to be a random list, right?)
I like to crochet—basic patterns, like scarves and afghans.
I try to escape to a warm place in late winter if I can—this year it will be a trip to New Orleans in March. Bring on the Beignets!
I’d pick toasted marshmallows and a campfire over a formal dinner party any day!

· In the same post, include this set of rules. Check.

· Forward this award to 15 fellow bloggers, and inform them with a comment on each of their blogs. Here’s my list:

Janet at Plantaliscious. Her posts about her pastoral setting in

England

and her adventures with her allotment garden are always a delight.

Kathleen at Kasey’s Korner. She’s an absolute pro with macro shots of her fabulous Orchids, Amaryllis, Hibiscus, and other indoor blooming plants. And her outdoor gardens are incredible, too.

TS at Casa Mariposa. A schoolteacher by day, she manages to mix humor, whimsy, and great photos into her very engaging posts.

Scott at Rhone Street Gardens. He has a way with capturing the simplest things and making them look exquisite. Truly a great photographer!

Joey at the Village Voice. Joey creates magical mosaics and special-effects photos that take my breath away, always combined with words of wisdom.

Donna at Gardens Eye View. A published author, poet, and photographer, Donna includes great advice and inspiration in every post.

Cat at The Whimsical Gardener. Many of my visits to Cat’s blog have been accompanied by sighs of wonder. She, too, can transform simple subjects into works of art through her lens.

Layanee at Ledge and Gardens. Layanee’s blog is warm and welcoming and very creative. I always enjoy visits to Ledge and Gardens.

Elly at Een kleine idylle. Neat and tidy graceful scenes of fresh interiors and exteriors—you’ll find these and more magic at Elly’s blog.

Dona at La Terrazza. Scenes from Venice and other Italian destinations remind me of the unequaled beauty of that part of the world.

Sheila at Green Place. Sheila has a way of looking at gardening and nature that is unique and comfortable at the same time. It’s hard to explain, but I love her blog.

Diane at Diane’s Texas Garden. Most visits to Diane’s blog result in a trip to the kitchen for a snack. Her stories about her fertile garden and mouth-watering photos of food preparation always whet my appetite.

Ginny at Welcome to Ginny’s Garden. Ginny is versatile with her blog post subjects. I think of North Carolina as the perfect setting for a gardener.

Rose at Prairie Rose’s Garden. A fellow Midwesterner, Rose is one step ahead of me in the springtime. When she starts posting about spring blooms, I know it’s just around the corner for me.

Julia at Polka Dot Galoshes. This blog is definitely versatile and whimsical. Julia has a unique take on gardening, garden design, and the special challenges of the Seattle climate.

Some of these blogs may have already received the Versatile Blogger Award—they all deserve it! As do so many others—some of whom are listed on the blogroll on the right side of this page. I didn’t include blogs I knew had already received the award. And of course, there are just so many wonderful blogs to visit. Narrowing it down to 15 was somewhat of a “just do it” exercise.

I’m so honored by Helene’s generosity and thrilled to be included in this wonderful family of talented gardener/bloggers. Cheers to all of you!

From the heavens to the earth

2012-01-25T22:13:00.001-06:00

Sometimes the gems we seek can be elusive. Other times, grace delivers unexpected treasures when we least expect them.

I was feeling a little under the weather earlier this week—a touch of the stomach flu and the winter blahs, a pretty powerful combination that knocked me out of commission. As I started to come out of it, I read an article about the aurora borealis, or northern lights, and how we might be able to catch a glimpse of them here in southern Wisconsin.

So the hubby and I set out to find a dark spot away from the city to try to catch a view. I’ve only seen them a couple of times. One time, they were shimmering, undulating ribbons of white across the sky. The other time, the movement wasn’t as dramatic but the colors were vibrant and indescribable.

I wish I could tell you we saw an amazing display this time. We think maybe we did see the northern lights, but they were very faint. We were probably too close to the city (even though we were on a very dark country road), and too far south.

The quest was fun anyway. It’s always healthy to get out of the house when you have cabin fever and simply want do something different. But an amazing view of the northern lights—nah.

If you want to see photos that come close to capturing the magic of the aurora, check out New Aurora Pictures: Solar Storms Trigger Northern Lights from nationalgeographic.com.

But when I got home, I decided to do a little plant research. (Nice segue, huh? But it’s what actually happened.) I stumbled across a picture of a plant that I’d been trying to ID since last April. There it was right in front of me—and I hadn’t even tried to find it this time. The plant:

Hydrophyllum virginianum

It was Virginia Waterleaf (Hydrophyllum virginianum). Last April, I decided to spend more time in the wooded part of our property—to identify spring ephemerals and wildflowers. The Waterleaf was a plant I’d photographed but was unable to identify—until last night!

Others I found last spring (some of which I’ve already blogged about) included Common Buttercup (Ranunculus acris)…

Ranunculus acris

Sweet Woodruff (Gallum odoratum)…

Gallum odoratum

And a personal favorite, Bloodroot (Sanguinaria Canadensis).

Sanguinaria Canadensis

I remember the day and the moment I discovered the Bloodroot. I was simply taking a quick stroll in the woods, when I captured the bright white of the tiny buds out of the corner of my eye. They were clustered around the base of a tree—sticking up no more than a few inches from the leaf-littered forest floor.

What can I say? It was just one of those fleeting moments of pure joy when you discover a miracle that has been right under your nose for a long time, but now you actually see it and appreciate it.

I found another plant in the woods last April that I know I should be able to identify. I remember seeing it in a horticultural class I took a few years back, but I can’t remember the name. Can you?

I can’t wait to get back in the woods to find more wildflowers this spring! I know the treasures are there—just waiting for me to discover them!

I’m joining Gail at Clay and Limestone for Wildflower Wednesday, and although I’m late, I’m also linking in to Pam’s Foliage Follow-Up at Digging. Thanks to both of them for hosting these great memes!

The roots of American gardening

2012-01-19T22:50:00.001-06:00

Most Americans list among their ancestors at least one line of immigrant farmers. For me, that’s true on both sides of the family. So reading Marcia Carmichael’s book “Putting Down Roots” is a way to connect with the lives of great-grandparents and the generations before them.

I'm joining Holley at Roses and Other Gardening Joys for her new book review meme. Even though my parents were the first family members to live in Wisconsin, previous generations mainly settled in the Midwest, so their experiences were likely very similar to those described in the book.

Marcia is the historical gardener at Old World Wisconsin—the Wisconsin Historical Society’s largest (576 acres) living-history museum near Eagle, Wis. My parents work at Old World, and they bought me a copy of the book.

One fun aspect of Marcia’s book is the way she organizes each section by country of origin. For example, the section about German immigrants starts with information about the typical German settler garden, and closes with a companion chapter featuring German recipes.

Sprinkled throughout are beautiful full-color photos of Old World’s gardens,

sidebar stories about early settler gardening tools,

techniques for root cellar storage,

companion planting suggestions, and other windows into the world of our settler forebears.

This is a great resource for any gardener, but especially for those interested in heirloom and organic gardening and the history of early American farming and gardening practices. Oh, and of course, cooks and bakers will enjoy this book, too. Here’s just one example of the numerous unique recipes:

~~~~~~~~~

Turnip and Potato Whip

Potatoes and turnips appeared frequently in the garden and on the table. They join other flavors in this simple and popular recipe.

3 cups peeled and cubed turnips

3 cups peeled and cubed potatoes

2 tablespoons chopped onion

2 tablespoons butter

salt and pepper, to taste

hot milk or cream

Cook turnips, potatoes, and onion in salted water until tender. Drain and dry. Mash quickly together with butter and seasoning, add hot milk, and cream until fluffy.

~~~~~~~~~

(Please visit Holley at Roses and Other Gardening Joys for more book reviews and recommendations.)

Time to hibernate

2012-01-17T22:38:00.000-06:00

We’re heading for a high of 7 degrees F on Thursday, with intermittent flurries throughout the week. But the other day when the temps were a little milder, I jaunted outside to snap a few shots of the evergreens coated in snow and ice.

The rabbits are hiding out now in their favorite bushes.

The Lamium is cuddling around the base of the picnic table.

The bench on the front porch reminds me of summer days I spent there with a cool drink in hand.

The precious Hellebores are tucked under a warm blanket of snow, just waiting for warmth and their chance to unfurl.

The wood pile is ready for a toasty fire.

And Ginger and Oreo are waiting for me to grab a good book and cuddle up on the couch.

It’s winter and I’m OK with that

2012-01-13T22:03:00.004-06:00

Most winters about this time, you’d find me complaining about the weather. But the truth is, I’d miss the snow if it passed us by completely. On Thursday, we had our first snowstorm of the season and it left us with a bright, crystalline covering of frosting on the landscape. Luckily, I’d decided to telecommute and I took a short break to check out the scene.

It had me feeling like a kid again…photographing leaves under snow and leaf impressions left by the snow.

Capturing backyard scenes with no snow blowing across the field of vision, and the same scenes with feathery snowflakes in the foreground.

Snapping shots of blowing flakes at various focal depths.

When I was a young adult, I spent a fabulous summer in Southern California. Guess what solicited the greatest feelings of homesickness? Get ready to snicker…

Watching the snowy movie, “Jeremiah Johnson” by myself on a hot summer day! It wasn’t even winter, but just the idea of spending a winter without snow had me hankering for the Midwest! I’ve never experienced a winter without snow. It just wouldn’t be right!

Plant of the month: Purple Wintercreeper

2012-01-08T20:27:00.000-06:00

Some plants in my garden confound me—perhaps none more so than Euonymus fortunei coloratus, commonly called Purple Wintercreeper. Not every “plant of the month” is a happy-go-lucky, go-out-and-plant-this recommendation. I can’t recommend this one with a clear conscience.

Then again I personally am not particularly frustrated with Purple Wintercreeper. In fact, it’s a lovely, carefree groundcover confined to just one section of my garden—spilling over the stone wall of a raised bed.

It’s one of those fun chameleon-like plants that changes with the seasons and the lighting.

According to Ohio State University, Purple Wintercreeper:

* Is native to

China

;

* Grows well in zones 5 to 9;

* Thrives in full sun to part shade; and

* Prefers moist, well-drained soils, yet tolerates poor soils.

But it’s a non-native invasive in this part of the world. So I feel guilty about allowing it to continue growing in my garden. I posted about a year ago regarding my personal philosophies on non-natives and garden zones. I’m comfortable planting some non-native perennials in select areas of the garden.

But reading that Purple Wintercreeper, left unchecked, crowds out native plants in the eastern

U.S.

, gives me pause. I didn’t plant it here, but does that make me any less responsible for its growth?

With my busy family and work schedule up to this point in my life, I haven’t had time to deal with it. But maybe this spring is the time to dig it up. I have two problems with this challenge, though. Purple Wintercreeper is:

1. Extremely difficult to eradicate, according to many sources; and

2. One of the most carefree and interesting four-season plants in my garden.

Various botanical institutions weigh in on the merits and drawbacks of Euonymus fortunei coloratus, including:

* Chicago’s Morton Arboretum

* The U.S. National Arboretum

* Missouri Botanical Garden

* UMass Center for Agriculture

* Ohio State University

* Purdue University

I haven’t decided yet what I’ll do with the Purple Wintercreeper in my garden. But during this mild, brown/gray winter, I’m enjoying its many colors.

Wordless Wednesday: Bird food is not for squirrels

2012-01-04T21:36:00.000-06:00

Six words of wisdom

2011-12-31T08:40:00.000-06:00

“If we could see the miracle of a single flower clearly,

our whole life would change.”

~Buddha

“I think, at a child’s birth, if a mother could ask a fairy godmother

to endow it with the most useful gift, that gift would be curiosity.”

~Eleanor Roosevelt

“There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle.

The other is as though everything is a miracle.”

~Albert Einstein

“Have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”

~Steve Jobs

“Plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,

instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.”

~Veronica A. Shoffstall

“Start by doing what’s necessary; then do what’s possible;

and suddenly you are doing the impossible.”

~St. Francis of Assisi

Dear gardening friends: Thanks for your encouragement, friendship, and inspiration during these past 12 months. Happy New Year!

(Please join Diana at Elephant’s Eye for her 12 Days of Christmas meme.)

A mystical story about three Crocus bulbs

2011-12-28T14:28:00.000-06:00

On the third day of Christmas, I received a priceless gift. (Note: You might not believe several aspects of this simple story. But I assure you, the entire narration is true.)

I ordinarily shop for next year’s Christmas cards after Christmas. (Oops, the secret is out!) This year, I first stopped at a very busy home and craft megastore, which had a few boxes left, but none to my liking.

I then traveled to a local department store, which I rarely visit. The aisles were nearly empty, and I had no trouble finding an excellent selection of beautiful, reasonably priced Christmas cards. As I walked toward the front of the store, I noticed an end-aisle display of bulb-forcing kits. The options were Amaryllises, Hyacinths, and Crocuses. The price for each kit: $2.99 USD.

I have never forced bulbs before. Several friends have given them to me as gifts, but I’ve never tried it myself. What possessed me to think this should be the time to try it? Well, probably the price. Why did I pick the Crocuses? The other bulbs, for some reason, seemed overwhelming to me for my first attempt.

Was blogging in the back of my mind? Of course it was! It always is. But I didn’t buy theses particular bulbs thinking I would blog about it on this particular day.

In fact, when I got back home I remembered that at some point this week I wanted to participate in Diana’s “12 Days of Christmas” meme. Hmmm, I thought. I could blog about these three bulbs! But I was lazy and chose instead to read my book on the couch with two cats for company. (Pure bliss.) I didn’t feel particularly productive.

This morning when I awoke, I thought about those bulbs (still not potted). And I thought about Diana’s meme. I checked out the days and realized many folks consider today the third day of Christmas! In any case, I “received” the bulbs yesterday and potted them today!

It’s somewhat mystical to me that I even set foot in that store, and beyond that, that I happened to walk by that particular end-aisle on my way out. And the three bulbs were pure coincidence (or were they?). Note: I have no connection, whatsoever, to the company that sells the bulb-forcing kits.

In any case, what a bargain! During the European Renaissance, flowering bulbs from the East were seen as a symbol of abundance and indulgence. They were highly prized and priced. And today I can buy them in a kit at a local discount store for $2.99! The pretty vases, alone, are worth more than that!

I followed the kit’s directions, which included filling the vases to just below the narrow necks, placing the bulbs shoot side up, and putting the whole lot in a cool, dark place for 12 weeks.

With the mild winter we’re having, it’s highly likely the outdoor Crocuses will bloom before the indoor ones, but we’ll have to wait and see. In the meantime, what a wonderful “gift”!

(Check out Elephant’s Eye’s “12 Days of Christmas meme” for more posts about the gifts of Christmas.)

Shared solstice stories

2011-12-21T21:42:00.001-06:00

At my house, the presents are wrapped, the tree is decorated, and the trip over the river and through the woods is just around the corner. Seems like a strange time to be discussing lessons learned in autumn (or spring for those in the Southern Hemisphere).

But we’re just now entering the official start to the next season. As lovely as the autumn was here in southern Wisconsin, for some reason it seemed odd to recycle old photos of colorful leaves. So I’m putting on my holiday hat as the backdrop for this “Lessons Learned” solstice post.

All participants in this quarter’s meme have excellent stories to share.

1. Holley at Roses and Other Gardening Joys takes a humorous look at lessons she should have learned, but still hasn’t. She also shares excellent tips for specific plants, including bulbs, annuals, perennials, and vegetables. Her macro of her lovely Pansies will cheer anyone on a cold winter day.

2. Barbie at The Gardening Blog shares the perils of mowing the lawn too close, and planting sun-loving plants in the shade and large, shrubby plants in tight containers. Barbie reports that TP rolls didn’t work the best for her seedlings. And I enjoy her wisdom in this phrase: “With some research and new-found knowledge, you plant and sow and usually your garden will grow.”

3. Her blogging partner, Christine, at The Gardening Blog has equally sage words: “Once you start gardening, you can’t stop.” A relatively new gardener, Christine already has learned her lessons well, and admits, “I don’t need perfection in the garden.” She’s also finds her garden an excellent place to heal in times of grief.

4. Dona and her team at La Terrazza share Zen moments similar to some I experienced this quarter. She reports finding inspiration while looking up into the canopy of a tall tree with the sun glancing off the leaves. Check out the fascinating capture and words of wisdom on her “Zen” post.

5. Donna at Gardens Eye View suggests we take our cameras with us wherever we go in autumn. I think I’ll have to follow that advice next year. You just never know when an amazing shot will present itself! She also invites us to follow her progress with her “Great Seed-Growing Experiment” this winter.

6. Indie at Red House Garden describes a funny experience with a vining plant. I’m sure you’ll chuckle when you read through her “Lessons Learned” post. She also shows how compost and soil amendment can make a big difference in plant health and vitality. But when shopping at the garden center it can be hard to select manure over beautiful plants.

7. Karen at Garden Adventures shares her appreciation of peace in the garden. She recently moved to a rustic property, and is thankful for autumn days with a meadow, a pond, established woodlands, and wildlife as a backdrop. Though her life is still hectic, she explains, it’s easier to relax in her new setting.

8. Amy at Get Busy Gardening reflects on lessons she actually learned and mistakes she didn’t repeat from last year’s end-of-season reflections. “Gardening is a constant learning experience,” she says. When we think we have control, nature often has other plans for us. Amy shares specific tips on what worked and didn’t work, and includes photos of her unique garden plots.

9. Rose at Prairie Rose’s Garden says she had good intentions for overwintering annuals and tender perennials, but time sabotaged her plans. She and “Mr. P” shared mowing adventures, and she had a strenuous workout planting spring bulbs—although it was well worth it. Check out her beautiful photo of snow-covered Fennel from last year.

10. Lyn at The Amateur Weeder admits that, though she’s an experienced gardener, she still makes mistakes “and probably always will.” But most of her “garden failures” aren’t accidental mistakes, but the result of bad habits she keeps repeating. (I know the feeling.) She closes her post with good advice for all of us.

11. Diana at Elephant’s Eye is hosting a “12 Days of Christmas” meme, which is an excellent transition into the early days of the next season. She describes how looking back a year in blogland “is a bit like remembering people you went to school with.” Head on over to Elephant’s Eye to read about how to join in her meme.

Thanks to all who participated in the “Lessons Learned” meme this quarter. If you have more lessons to share, please comment on this post or on Facebook.

Dear gardening friends, it has been such a pleasure to share lessons, laughs, and inspiration with you during the past year. I have much to be thankful for and much to look forward to—in large part because of you! Here in the Northern Hemisphere the days will be getting longer now. And the cyclical countdown to planting, weeding, and harvesting continues.

Merry Christmas!

(Full disclosure: The snowy scenes in this post lasted just one day. All our snow has melted, and it appears we won’t have a white Christmas for the first time in many years. I’d be sad, but it makes holiday activities so much easier.)

Plant of the month: Cotoneaster horizontalis

2011-12-15T06:59:00.000-06:00

A few weeks back, I stepped out of the house looking for something interesting to photograph and everything looked dull. No snow, no blooms, not much fall color left. I was about to step back in the warm house when I saw the frost on the Cotoneaster (a photo I included in an earlier post).

Cotoneaster horizontalis

After snapping a few shots, I made a mental note to photograph it more since it was so vibrant this autumn. But I was too late. The next time I set out to photograph plants, the Cotoneaster leaves were gone. It seems I captured it just before leaf drop—around the time of our first hard freeze.

The plant isn’t particularly beautiful now—although the arching branches are still architecturally fascinating. If you look closely, you can see the bright red berries. But they’d be much lovelier with a blanket of snow, like last year at this time.

Cotoneaster horizontalis, or Rockspray Cotoneaster, is native to Western China. It’s a low-growing (2-4 feet), sprawling shrub, although it’s easily managed and not particularly invasive. The USDA says it’s cold-hardy to -28° F, which makes sense since it has survived here for at least 12 years (the previous owners may have planted it when the house was new, which would make it 24 years old).

I’ve occasionally clipped a few branches for floral arrangements. If you catch them when they’re still green with berries, they form a colorful frame for autumn bouquets. Several sources mention Cotoneaster as a popular choice for Bonsai trees. I’ve never propagated a Bonsai, but I can see how it would be an ideal specimen. Several remarkable examples are featured on The Art of Bonsai’s website.

Layanee at Ledge and Gardens posted some awesome shots of the sun catching her Rockspray Cotoneaster.

One thing that amazes me about Cotoneaster is its chameleon qualities. It morphs through the seasons from a dull mound of branches with pretty berries in late fall, to its climax of color just before leaf drop. (Like Layanee, I don’t have any shots of Rockspray Cotoneaster in bloom. Drat!)

(Entries for the “Garden Lessons Learned” meme are always welcome! Click on the tab at the top or the “Garden Lessons Learned” link on the right side of this page. There’s a “Mr. Linky” link at the end of my "Lessons Learned" post. I’ll be posting about the lessons learned at the solstice. Thanks to those who’ve joined in so far!)

What is a blogger?

2011-12-10T20:34:00.000-06:00

I generally don’t mix my “day job” with my posts for this blog. I’m not sure why—maybe because the subject matter is entirely different. Not much crossover between financial institutions and plants.

But lately, the topics of appropriate blogging behavior and the niche bloggers fill in the dissemination of information have come up in both worlds.

By day, I’m on a team of seasoned editors who manage and produce content for an impressive (if I might say so) array of print and online publications. Not a whole lot of hard-hitting investigative journalism. But these very talented editors take journalistic ethics and the role of journalists very seriously.

This week, the Oregon Supreme Court ruled that an independent blogger who writes several law-centric blogs and has been involved in a defamation case is not protected by the state’s shield law. To learn more about this case, visit this post on blogworld.com, or this article in Time Magazine, or this one posted through The Wall Street Journal. Similar cases in other states have had similar results.

Many of us, however, aren’t convinced that independent bloggers should give up or that their work should be universally dismissed as unprofessional. There have been columnists and editorial writers as long as there have been journalists—maybe longer. Some are trained writers and journalists, and some aren’t.

Bloggers have evolved to serve many of the same functions as early opinion and advice columnists. There’s a valid niche for blogging, along with tweeting, feature writing, investigative journalism, and other reporting methods.

Through this blog, I convey a much lighter message. But recent discussion among the garden blogging community has introduced similar questions about the ethics and role of garden bloggers, specifically. For background on this debate, check out Colleen Vanderlinden’s post about “Garden Blogging and Free Stuff.”

My personal takeaways from both of these discussions:

It’s OK for me as a professional business writer and a part-time garden writer to blog, within the acceptable standards of my employer and the garden writing community. Those standards are evolving, and it’s my duty to abide by them.

Blogging, of any type, can be riskier (in some ways) than feature writing. Independent bloggers are finding they don’t share the same protections as employed journalists. (Should they?) But more than that, blogging involves sharing more personal information and often putting oneself “out there.” When writing an article for the company publication, the story is at the forefront. While this is sometimes true when blogging, most posts are written in the first person “I.” So the blogger is putting his or her opinions, personality, and thoughts at the forefront.

Bloggers have choices to make. Those of us who are independent call all the shots. We can accept advertising, sell our content, review products, and partner with other organizations…or not. We can share basic information and experiences, our deepest thoughts, and details about our personal lives…or not. If we choose to do these things, we accept the rewards and responsibilities of those choices.

There are many more takeaways from these discussions—some of which are still forming as the Internet and communication evolve. But my biggest personal goals are to be true to myself, to aim for the highest possible integrity, and to realize that most of my greatest lessons learned are better shared with others than hidden under a bushel.

Nearly wordless: shades of gray and a surprise

2011-12-06T21:18:00.000-06:00

Wouldn’t this make a great jigsaw puzzle?
Did you see the cats?

Tee hee.

(Entries for the “Garden Lessons Learned” meme are always welcome! Scroll down to my previous post, or click on the tab at the top or the “Garden Lessons Learned” link on the right side of this page. There’s a “Mr. Linky” link at the end of my last post. I’ll be posting about the lessons learned after Dec. 22. Thanks to those who’ve joined in so far!)

Garden lessons learned: autumn 2011

2011-11-30T22:32:00.002-06:00

What a glorious autumn we’ve had this year! Before the snow falls, I’m taking stock of garden lessons I’ve learned this season. I hope you’ll join in the meme sometime between now and December 22. This season, I learned:

1. Take a drive. Get out and explore a favorite section of roadway at the peak of fall color. Or travel where you’ve never been before. Several drives to visit our daughter at college got us out on the road. I need to make time for this every autumn, because the views are incredible!

2. Put down the camera. None of my shots out the window of the speeding car were acceptable. (Don’t worry, I wasn’t driving at the time.) So I paused and simply experienced the incredible scenery. Sometimes being forced to part with a camera can be a good thing. It helps you live in the moment and imagine great shots for later. It’s almost like it helps develop perspective and an eye for a good photo without actually taking the shot.

3. Pick up the camera. Take a lot of photos of fall color. This is the first year I’ve done this. I can’t answer why. I guess in the past I’ve mainly focused on documenting specific plants. This autumn I zoomed out a little more and captured a few colorful landscapes. But whether you zoom in or out, take advantage of the magical light and the incredible color autumn provides and put that camera to work!

4. Stay in one spot and observe. One exceptionally wonderful, mild fall day I sat on a lawn chair for about an hour and experimented with my new camera. It helped me to see things in a different way. While it was challenging to stay in one spot without moving around from plant to plant, it was a great exercise in observation and photo composition.

5. Take a walk. Autumn air is refreshing and easy to breathe. Enjoy the mild weather while you can, because before you know it walks will be less comfortable. And you’ll have to wear heavy boots, coats, mittens, and scarves. And your fingers will freeze as you try to snap just the right photo.

6. Look up and down. One day I looked up into the Oak trees, and I felt like I was in a cathedral. The sun was shining at just the right angle to make the leaves glow like stained glass. Another day I captured shots for Donna’s meme (Garden Walk, Garden Talk) about “texture” and “pattern.” Even things that seem mundane and ordinary are beautiful if you look closely.

7. Tidy up when you can. If you have a windless, clear, mild day in autumn, make it a priority to spend time in the garden. Raking, trimming, and planting don’t work as well on windy, wet days. Fortunately, we didn’t have many of these this autumn, but that may not be the case next year.

8. Appreciate each stage of autumn. One day in early October on my drive to work, the colors of the Maple, Beech, Ash, and Hickory nearly brought tears to my eyes. It was overwhelmingly breathtaking. When those trees started to lose their leaves, I was a little sad. But then the Oak, Burning Bush, and Sumac—and later the Spirea and Hydrangea—put on brilliant displays. Each stage was stunning in its own way.

But the biggest lesson of all was to truly appreciate autumn. I think I’ve been in too much of a hurry in the past to really enjoy it. Autumn is stunning!

What garden lessons have you learned this season? Whether you’re in the Northern or Southern Hemisphere, please link a recent post about your advice, reflections, or ideas to the Garden Lessons Learned Mr. Linky meme below. I’ll post about your lessons near the solstice (Dec. 22). Enjoy the last days of the season!

Bud break before the deep freeze

2011-11-26T21:18:00.000-06:00

Every year about this time I start worrying about my perennials and ornamental shrubs. Will they make it through the winter? The buds look like they’re about to break already!

Last year in late November, I posted about Star Magnolias in the neighborhood. They looked pregnant with new life and it was hard to believe they’d survive through the long, cold winter. Of course, they did survive and the blossoms were as spectacular as ever. (One of these days, I must plant Magnolias in my garden!)

Magnolia stellata

This year, some plants and shrubs are showing premature signs of new growth, and it has me worried more than usual. When I look back at my posts about Magnolias from last year, I see that the temperatures were cold enough that I was uncomfortable outside snapping photos. Nothing could be further from the truth this year. Our Thanksgiving and Black Friday were among the mildest on record, with highs approaching 60 degrees.

While I’m not complaining about the mild weather for my own comfort, I’m worried that some plants might have a huge shock when the cold weather hits. They’re probably just fine, but the change will be tough on people and plants alike.

The Scallions and Irises always look like this. Their new growth is evergreen, and they simply take a long nap under the snow.

Allium cepa

Iris germanica

Old growth on the Hollyhocks simply hasn't shriveled up yet.

Alcea rosea

The Daylilies seem to have a little more new growth at the base than usual. Should I be worried?

Hemerocallis fulva

My dear Hellebores seem way too far along for November! I repacked the Oak leaves around them. And learning from last year, I won’t remove the leaf mulch until April! The snow should provide a comfy blanket.

Helleborus orientalis

But the plant that really has me worried is the Hydrangea. This new leaf growth is a goner already. It sure is beautiful, though, in its premature bud break. Hopefully the rest of the shrub will make it through unscathed.

Hydrangea macrophylla

I can’t say these two sources comforted me much, but they do offer great information on plant cold-hardiness:

“Winter injury to trees and shrubs,” from the Morton Arboretum.
“How plants prepare for winter,” from the University of Vermont Extension

No frost on the pumpkin

2011-11-23T21:09:00.000-06:00

yet...

Source: weather.com

(Submitted for Wordless Wednesday. Happy Thanksgiving!)

Flavor of the day

2011-11-20T21:24:00.001-06:00

Mulch is on my mind today. There are so many different types of mulch—all of which supply unique benefits to the garden. One could almost think of them as “flavors” for plants. What flavors of mulch do you use for your garden?

Lately I’ve been reading—through blogs, master gardener sites, and other sources—about the benefits of using leaf mulch on the garden. Years ago, our family was meticulous about clearing away all the leaves from our lawn and most of the leaves from around perennials and shrubs. We’d replace the piles of leaves with piles of shredded bark mulch.

We’ve changed our strategy a bit in recent years—partly because of age, wisdom, and laziness, and partly because the experts are recommending recycling leaves on the yard and garden. Actually, it makes sense—why bag and cart away your leaves when they make excellent protective mulch and return precious nutrients back to the soil? With that said, we do rake most of the Oak leaves away because they decompose very slowly. And, of course, we don’t want the wind to blow the bulk of them into the storm gutters and the neighbors’ yards. We drag most of them into the woods to compost.

But if a few leaves remain, we mow them into the turf. And we retain the accumulated Oak leaves around shrubs and perennials until spring, when we rake them off to allow the sun to warm the wakening plants.

Here are excellent sources on the topic of garden mulch:

An article from Scotts about the benefits of using your own leaves for mulch;
A recommended leaf management plan from Texas A&M; and
An extensive article about various types of mulch from the American Rose Society.

On my small vegetable/cut flower plot, I’ve usually covered the entirety with Marsh Hay, year-round. It decomposes quickly, and planting under and through it is pretty easy. Marsh Hay, unlike Straw and Field Hay is usually weed-free.

But that means paying for and carting in a bale—not a huge deal, although why go outside the yard for mulching materials when we can use what we have here?

This year, I’m trying something new for the veggie/cut flower bed: Honey Locust leaves. We have two large Honey Locust trees in our front yard. I know some people find them bothersome and invasive, but I’m a fan. I’ll save listing the reasons why for another post.

The leaves of the Honey Locust are small and light, and they break down in one season.

This year, we mowed most of the Honey Locust leaves that fell on the grass back into the lawn. We also gathered a large pile to use as mulch on the veggie/flower garden. I'm thinking they'll be the perfect mulch to protect perennials, reduce weeds, and prepare the soil for next year’s Tomatoes, Cucumbers, Zinnias, Cosmos, and other lovelies.

I’ll let you know next growing season how it all turns out.

Transition time

2011-11-15T22:42:00.002-06:00

I don’t recall a November as mild as this one. While writing this post, I sat on the screen porch listening to the wind chimes, the bird calls, and the kids across the street playing ball.

I’d think it was spring, except for the musky smell of decomposing leaves, the bare tree branches, and the lack of flowering plants. A few blossoms still survive—Mums, Liatris, and a few persistent potted annuals. But frankly, the more interesting features of the current landscape are the patterns and textures.

When I learned that Donna of Garden Walk, Garden Talk planned to focus on “texture” and “pattern” for this week’s “Word 4 Wednesday” meme, I was pleased. I’d planned to do a post on that theme for a while.

Often in the quest to photograph the most beautiful blooms in the garden, I find myself just as fascinated with intricate patterns and textures. Especially upon very close inspection. For example, when photographing Cosmos blossoms recently, it was the texture of the backlit petals that really sparkled.

From a distance, Moss just looks like a mass of green matter. But close up, the intricate textures and patterns of the tiny plants are mesmerizing.

Moss grows on the patio, too, giving the bricks more character.

Lichen forms on word surfaces in asymmetrical patterns.

Striations and Lichen on a granite rock tell stories about its history.

The unending Oak leaves I’ve grown tired of raking have a unique earthy structure that’s captivating—even if they are a boring brown.

The thickness and shiny surface structure of the evergreen Hellebore leaf showcase the plant’s hardiness.

The Shagbark Hickory appears to have a heart—I wonder if someone carved it there, or if it naturally formed this way?

Pine cones and branches lined up for winter kindling hold the promise of warmth in their fire-friendly form.

Blue Spruce is equally captivating on its own and with a dressing of white snow (which I will share another day).

The Cotoneaster shrub branches out in waves of green and crimson.

A child’s decorated rock from years gone by nestles next to translucent, decomposing Hosta leaves.

Apples stored on the porch look like perfect winter food—despite their lovely imperfections.

Flowers of all sorts come and go. Snow soon will fly and overstay her welcome. There are seasons to celebrate their splendor. I’m appreciating other simple things today—the patterns and textures of transition time.

(Be sure to head over to Garden Walk, Garden Talk to see the other Word 4 Wednesday posts.)

Plant of the month: Currant

2011-11-10T22:17:00.000-06:00

Who doesn’t enjoy a virtually carefree plant? Aside from the fact that they’re easily taken for granted, carefree plants help form the “bones” of a garden—you know you can always count on them to survive and thrive from season to season.

One family of carefree plants is the genus Ribes L. or Currants and Gooseberries. There are more than 150 species of Ribes, according to the U.S. Agricultural Research Service (ARS). And approximately 50 of those are native to North America. This ARS webpage is an excellent resource on all things Ribes: Currant and Gooseberry Genetic Resources.

Ribes americanum

Alpine Currant (Ribes alpinum), while not native, is a common shrub form found in many residential settings. We have a line of them along the foundation of our sunroom at the back of the house. Frankly, they were neglected for years. I pruned them back pretty dramatically in the spring, so they looked better this year. But they’ll still need some attention next growing season.

Here’s an Ohio State University document with great detail about Ribes alpinum: Alpine Currant.

Ribes alpinum

Apparently only male plants are propagated and sold in the U.S., which would explain why my Alpine Currants never have berries. But they look pretty as a backdrop to more showy plants.

Here are more benefits of Alpine Currant:

Thrives in full sun to full shade (what other plant can claim that?);
Wide habitat range: zones 2 to 7;
Urban stress-tolerant and very cold-hardy;
Adaptable to various soil types, pH levels, and moisture levels;
Foliage forms all the way to the ground; and
Attractive bright green foliage darkens and turns glossy in the summer.

On that last point, several sources list Alpine Currant as having little ornamental appeal, but I rather fancy the Maple-like leaf form and its variegated color in autumn.

I’ll be seeing you in…April

2011-11-07T20:02:00.000-06:00

I needed a little dirt therapy this weekend. I'm sure most of you can relate to craving this rich black/brown stuff under your fingernails—especially in late winter when you're feeling withdrawal.

And the time was right to add a little color to the early spring line-up. During our first spring here 12 years ago, the front garden came alive with bright red and yellow Tulips, which the rabbits have slowly destroyed over the years. I won’t plant more Tulips here until I have a dog to chase away the long-eared demons.

But rabbit-resistant Daffodils are a different story! No time to lose.

I decided to plant large-cupped, bright yellow Narcissus ‘Carlton,’ which look similar to these mini-Daffodils, but grow to 16-18 inches tall.

I determined where to plant the bulbs, and divided them into equal piles.

Daffodils need to be planted to a depth of 6-8 inches. (Check out this handy bulb-planting guide, and follow the instructions on your bulbs' packaging.) A handled bulb planter doesn’t make much sense for this job, so I grabbed the shovel.

I checked to make sure each planting hole was deep enough, and then carefully placed the bulbs.

I added lava rocks at various depths to discourage little digging critters from disturbing the bulbs, and covered the top layer with bark mulch.

All that’s left is to look forward to the transformation and the big reveal in April.

Sheesh, that’s a long way off!

Ephemeral daylight

2011-11-02T20:04:00.000-05:00

This is a true story. I’m telling you this because I want this post to be as authentic as possible. I was struggling over how to write about the word “ephemeral”—the word Donna at Garden Walk, Garden Talk selected for this week’s Word 4 Wednesday. I love the idea of this meme, because it is truly challenging!

The first images that came to mind with the word ephemeral were the spring wildflowers so welcome here in April and May. But I wanted to post about something happening in my garden now. Not lacking for things to post about in general, this word was stumping me.

And then it hit me. The word ephemeral is all about time, or lack thereof. That’s why I was struggling so much all along! Time is fleeting.

Berberis thunbergii

More specifically, what is truly ephemeral this time of year is daylight. Here in southern Wisconsin, the sun is currently rising at about 7:30 a.m., and setting at about 6 p.m.—about the time I get home from work. And it’s only going to get worse—especially when we turn back the clocks for Standard Time this weekend. Grrrr…

Not much time to photograph plants except on a vacation day or a weekend. But it’s the perfect topic for a blog post about the word ephemeral!

Euonymus alatus

So, my plan was to head home and capture some quick shots at dusk just before sunset. I left work at about 5:20 p.m. I paused to snap a couple of camera phone shots of the fading light out the window at work. I’m not sure why I did that because the photos are rotten. Anyway, I got into my car and started for home, noticing that the sun was setting fast!

Don’t worry, I drove carefully, realizing that rushing could only cause problems. But as I turned up my street, it hit me how little time I had left. I pulled into the driveway at about 5:45 p.m. and temporarily became distracted as I looked at the clock. I nearly plowed into the corner of the garage.

Cotoneaster horizontalis

Fifteen minutes to try to capture a few dusk shots. And I’m still experimenting with my new camera. A recipe for disaster! Oh, and I had to pop out my contacts first, because they were so dry, I couldn’t see anything closer than an arm’s length away.

So, with about 10 minutes left, I pulled off the camera lens cap and had at it. The results are mediocre, but they perfectly illustrate the point: Sunlight is ephemeral in the North Country in November!

Spiraea japonica

(Oh, and at 6 p.m. when the sun was setting and I was heading inside, my camera batteries died. I guess they’re ephemeral, too.)

The stained-glass effect

2011-10-30T15:51:00.000-05:00

Looking up through the canopy of an Oak woodland on a sunny fall day is like looking through an intricate stained-glass mosaic.

While the colors of Oak leaves are more muted than those of Maples, Sumacs, and other vibrant species, Oaks’ beauty is unequaled when backlit with sunlight against dark tree bark or bright blue sky.

Oak savannas and Oak woodlands were the predominant ecosystems in this part of the Midwest until the mid-19^th Century, according to the Wisconsin DNR. Most of the acreage was:

Cleared and plowed;
Overgrazed; or
Invaded by dense shrub and tree growth due to lack of fire, lack of grazing, or both.

Oak savannas and woodlands are now endangered habitats. I’ve been researching them lately, hoping to gain a greater understanding of the sweet ecosystem outside my back door. These sites offer detailed information on the history, current status, and outlook for these unique habitats:

The Wisconsin DNR; and
The Pleasant Valley Conservancy.

At this time of year, I admit, living on the edge of a small Oak woodland isn’t easy. Last fall, we hauled 10-15 tarps full of Oak leaves into a large compost pile in the woods. This year, we were “lucky” when a windstorm blew most of the first drop of leaves into the forest and the perennial beds—where they’ll stay as a natural mulch until I rake them off in the spring.

But Oaks hold their leaves longer than other deciduous trees. Some have barely lost any leaves, and others will hold at least some of their foliage until spring. That’s fortunate for us, since we’ll have a “stained-glass” view for a little longer.

Happy Anniversary, PlantPostings!

2011-10-25T23:39:00.000-05:00

Why did you begin a garden blog? What is the goal or purpose of your blog? Why do you continue to blog; what motivates you?

These are just a few of many questions I’d like to ask my fellow garden bloggers. When I joined the group one year ago today, I had no idea what I was in for. I thought it would be a fun way to share photos and gardening tips and ideas.

But it has become so much more! By the time the holidays rolled around last year, I knew garden blogging would be much more fulfilling than I had ever imagined. Then through the long, cold winter, visiting blogs from England, Italy, Australia, Malaysia, the southern U.S., and many more countries and regions gave me hope that somewhere in the world plants were green, growing, and thriving.

When spring began, posts hit the blogosphere with glorious photos of Snowdrops, Crocuses, and Hellebores. I knew I’d be able to make it through the winter! When spring ephemerals and then summer perennials made appearances here in my own garden and community, I couldn’t wait to document and share their beauty!

While summer was a busy time, I committed to posting at least once a week. Never at a loss for plants and topics to cover, I struggled with the demands of personal transitions, a full-time day job, and endless gardening and home chores. (No complaining about any of these things—I simply had limited time to blog and visit blogs. Very frustrating.)

And then autumn revealed itself in the most glorious display I can remember. Was it because it was more beautiful than other years? Or was I simply more attuned to the beauty because I was a garden blogger? Whatever the case, I have never enjoyed an autumn more than the current one.

Back to those original questions I asked at the beginning of this post, and my personal responses:

• Why did you begin a garden blog?

I’d been photographing the plants in my garden for years and wanted to find a way to document and share them.

• What is the goal or purpose of your blog?

To communicate with other gardeners and share tips, techniques, and knowledge.

• Why do you continue to blog? What motivates you?

Where do I start? The love of gardening, first of all! Fascination with plants, the desire to share information and joy with other gardeners, the opportunity to learn lots of new things, the fun of photography, and the challenge of documenting garden and habitat changes over time.

But there have been so many surprises, too, including:

• I’ve learned so much about climates and growing conditions around the world;

• Gardeners are even more generous than I’d thought;

• There are plants in my garden that I hadn’t realized were here, and I’m sure I’ll discover more next year;

• A few moments spent outdoors anywhere will reveal astounding photo opportunities.

Where is this blog headed? I’m not sure I have a full answer to that question. I know I want to continue it, because the experience has brought me so much fulfillment and joy—more than I’ve experienced from a personal endeavor in a long time.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank those who started this journey with me and continue to encourage me:

• Sarah of Good Garden Ideas, who mentioned the idea of a blog and encouraged me at the start;

• Autumn Belle of My Nice Garden, who added a sweet comment on my first post;

• Anna of Flower Garden Girl, who encourages garden bloggers and communicators around the world;

• My dear blogger friends on Blotanical, and others in that wonderful community whom I will meet in the future;

• Gardening Facebook and Twitter friends—especially those who “like” PlantPostings;

• Elaine, Ann, Rick, Linda, Teresa, Mary, Roxanne, and other current and past gardening co-workers who never hesitate to share plants and gardening lore;

• Family members who garden and/or support me in this new adventure; and most of all,

• Ernie, my dear husband, who encourages me endlessly in every endeavor that’s important to me.

While it has been challenging to meet my goal of posting at least once a week for one year, it has also been great fun. I did it! I’m a garden blogger! Virtual champagne for all!

And now for a motivational message (it’s worth watching—I promise):

An experiment on the patio

2011-10-23T21:29:00.000-05:00

I decided to try an experiment this weekend, for two reasons:

1. The weather was incredibly perfect. Days like this are numbered, and soon it will be quite uncomfortable to dawdle outside taking photos.
2. My new camera gives me a little more flexibility with macro photography, optical zoom, and low light situations. I needed to try it out.

The experiment: to capture as many shots as I could in one small area of the garden.
The goal: to avoid searching out good photos by moving around, and instead to create good photos by staying in one spot, and being observant and creative with light and composition.

Here's what I discovered:

The Burning Bush near the patio is still green and lush, while the one I captured in a previous post has lost most of its leaves.

Chipmunks are hard to photograph because they move fast, and I'm still trying to figure out all the buttons on this camera.

The Oak canopy is still a comforting filter—shading the garden from the bright sun. Soon these shots will be grey and blue and white, with very little green or warm tones in sight.

I have lots of leaves to rake, but I need to be very careful how I handle them.

I finally captured a decent photo of this bright Begonia, which eluded me all summer.

Simple objects composed in interesting ways and drenched with autumn's oblique light create pretty good shots.

Plant of the month: Staghorn Sumac

2011-10-19T21:15:00.000-05:00

One person’s problem plant is often another’s favorite. Staghorn Sumac (Rhus typhina) is listed as “weedy” and “invasive” by the USDA and the Wisconsin DNR. But it’s also a native plant in most of the U.S., and quite common in the eastern half of the country.

In autumn, tourists often travel to regions where Sumac is prevalent to see the spectacular display. This is not surprising to me.

How many plants hold this many colors at one point in time?

We have a woody, scraggly Sumac bush on the side of our driveway. It overhangs the parking spot, and actually kind of gets in the way. We’ve cut it back several times. But I can’t bear to dig it out, because it’s simply beautiful.

In springtime, Sumac forms tiny green flowers, which give way later to large, pointy clusters of hairy berry-like, reddish brown fruits. They definitely provide winter interest, because the red clusters stay on the branches and offer dramatic contrast against white snow. I’ve used the fruit clusters in autumn and holiday floral arrangements, and they hold up for days.

But it’s the leaves that really enchant me.

Weedy and invasive it may be when not under control, but this native plant will always have a place in my garden.

GBBD: rekindled love

2011-10-15T20:11:00.002-05:00

I’m looking the other way. I could show you the bare branches, the leaf piles, and the shriveling plants. But it’s Garden Bloggers’ Bloom Day! So I’m focusing on the bright flowers still blooming in my garden. Although it was a windy day, which made the photography a bit more challenging, the light was right to capture the season’s last outdoor blooms.

We haven’t had a hard freeze yet, so we’re in that delicate transition time when colorful annuals bloom next to autumn Pumpkin and Cornstalk decorations.

Zinnias on the sunny west side of the house keep producing their bright, knock-out flower heads.

Sedum is has ripened to a deep wine, but it’s still just as lovely as it was in pale pink.

Bleeding heart hangs on to its last blooms, even as its leaves wither and drop.

But the flower I’m truly celebrating is Cosmos—as reliable as it has been all summer. I haven’t planted Cosmos for a few years. I don’t know why, because I’ve fallen in love with it all over again.

What’s more enchanting than a small vase of cascading Cosmos? This bouquet has lasted for more than a week, and it's brighter than the day I picked it. I’m pretty sure I’ll be planting Cosmos again next season.

(Thanks to Carol at May Dreams Gardens for hosting Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day!)

To autumn...

2011-10-10T20:34:00.000-05:00

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;

To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

~John Keats

(I missed Garden Blogger's Muse Day on Oct. 1, but this Keats poem describes the season so well. I'm not too late to join Dave's Fall Color Project meme. Check it out, and keep track of the beautiful color changes from north to south in the Northern Hemisphere. Thanks, Dave! All photos in this post were taken in southwestern Wisconsin or southeastern Minnesota near the Mississippi River.)

Beyond the Maples

2011-10-07T21:04:00.000-05:00

There's no denying Maples are glorious specimens at the peak of autumn color.

But so many other lovely plants, shrubs, and trees add color to the autumn landscape, including the gold/green medley of some large-leaf Hostas...

The peachy/lime/burgundy hues of Dwarf Korean Lilac...

The brilliant sun-catching gold of the Shagbark Hickory and Redbud...

The variegated salmon/orange/green of Flowering Almond...

And, of course, the show-stopping, hard-to-believe-it's-real crimson/fuchsia of the Burning Bush...

Autumn color takes my breath away!

One of America’s ‘best fall color drives’

2011-10-03T21:27:00.003-05:00

Traveling through Wisconsin during the first few weeks of October is like passing through a watercolor painting.

All the regions are fantastic, but Travel and Leisure recently ranked the “Driftless Region” of southwestern Wisconsin among “America’s Best Fall Color Drives.”

This past weekend, my husband and I had the pleasure of passing along the edge and then through the heart of the region. Trekking to this part of the state has always been one of our favorite pastimes.

On this particular weekend, we traveled Interstate Hwy. 90 to “family weekend” at our daughter’s college; then took a couple of side trips on state highways and county roads through the Driftless Region on the way home.

The leaf colors are changing so fast now, it’s hard to pin down which region is “near peak” or “peak.” But the color in and around the Driftless Region is definitely worth a road trip.

The U.S. Geological Survey describes this region as a “highly eroded, unglaciated” landscape. Much of the area was never covered by glaciers, or contains deposits from the edges of the glaciers. The landforms, plants, and even some animals (bats) are unique to the area.

Here are a few sources that describe the Driftless Region in detail:

I-90 from Madison to the Minnesota border passes along the edge and in and out of the Driftless Region. The sections of the interstate in the glaciated regions are just as beautiful. Along the way, Maples, Hickories, Hemlock, Birch, Ash, and Sumac blaze as if on fire. At peak, the Oaks join in with their burgundies, bronzes, golds, and deep browns.

Traveling I-90 is easy—with clean, well-tended rest areas and tourist stops along the way. But if you want to see more rustic locales, take a side trip on any of the state or county highways for photo ops, picnic spots, apple orchards, and produce stands.

The sun is setting earlier in the day, so the oblique light highlights plants in shades of color that are hard to adequately capture with a camera, a painter’s brush, or a blogger’s words.

But I have another chance next weekend—we’ll be heading back that way again to see our daughter in her first role in a college play production.

(Thanks to Hanni at Sweet Bean Gardening for hosting the Hope Grows meme. What will I look forward to next month? Maybe a surprise?)

Wordless Wednesday: Memories of early spring

2011-09-27T22:34:00.000-05:00

Plant of the month:Hosta of the Equinox

2011-09-25T20:06:00.001-05:00

I take Hostas for granted. I know I shouldn’t, but I do.

They’re so prolific here, sometimes I forget how spectacular they can be. People have said to me, “Don’t the rabbits eat your Hostas?” Well, they probably do, but there are so many plants, the rabbits can hardly make a dent.

If you want expert information about the thousands of varieties of Hostas, check out Carolyn’s blog: Carolyn’s Shade Gardens. So many to choose!

But the little beauty I’m focusing on this month is one I rarely thought much about until I started blogging. You see, it’s a late-bloomer. And before starting this blog, usually by this time in the growing season I was spending more time inside, letting the garden go to rest, watching football games, and starting my next big crochet project.

Then, for the September Garden Bloggers’ Bloom Day I happened to notice this Hosta was in full bloom, while the others were long past their prime. Here’s what it looked like on the bloom day:

And here it is nearly two weeks later:

Since most of the Hostas in this garden were planted by the previous owners, I don’t know all the cultivars. So it took a bit of research to determine this late-bloomer’s name.

Searches for information on late-blooming Hostas revealed several options, including: Hosta densa, Golden Prayers, August Moon, Prairie Moon, Invincible. But none of them seemed quite right.

Then I started reading about another cultivar: small mound; medium-size, bright green leaves; lavender flowers (in some light they appear periwinkle blue); tall stalks. And then the kicker: According to the Hosta Library, they’re often referred to as “Hosta of the Equinox.” That would be about right, wouldn’t it?

Please correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe this plant is Hosta aequinoctiiantha. When 90% of the garden is dying back, it’s in full bloom. It might just be my favorite Hosta—at least for now.

From one gardener to another

2011-09-20T21:12:00.000-05:00

When I stop learning lessons in my garden…well, I can’t finish that sentence because it will never happen while I’m on this earth. Most of us, if we’re honest, will admit we’re still learning—about friends, family, life, the meaning of life…and gardening (for those of us with dirty fingernails).

I’m not a gardening expert, but I’d bet that even gardening experts still regularly learn new things about plants, planting, and plant care. If you’re not still learning—at any age—why bother? To me, that’s the joy of it! As long as I live, I can still learn (and re-learn) gardening lessons. Hurrah!

That’s also an important goal of this blog. When I posted a “Lessons Learned” item at the end of spring, people seemed to connect with it. So I thought, why not create a quarterly meme—Lessons Learned Through the Seasons! The response has been wonderful—on the meme and through comments and Facebook posts.

There’s no denying the end of the season now—we'll move into a new one on Friday. Thanks to all who participated in the meme! I hope I’m covering all of you here, but if I missed someone or you’d like to add any thoughts, please comment on this post.

1. TS at Casa Mariposa has started posting monthly “GOOPS!” or “Gardeners’ OOPS” after getting the idea from Laurrie of My Weeds Are Very Sorry. I highly recommend these posts—you’ll learn new things and it’s very likely you’ll chuckle, too.

2. Donna at Gardens Eye View always offers words of wisdom. Her lesson in August: Never say never. She found a successful mix of acidic soil and manure fertilizer that worked wonders on her chili plants.

3. Kathe at Kathe With an E chronicles the transformation of her bare lot into a garden chock full of personality. A dramatic example of starting with a blank slate and ending up with a colorful garden haven.

4. Michelle at The Sage Butterfly reminds us that Mother Nature teaches us gratitude, patience, and appreciation. I love her closing words: “Life does not flow along in a stale and stagnant manner, and so, the garden never remains the same.”

5. Dona at La Terrazza offers an incredible macro of a Dandelion and reminds us about the architecture of plants—designed to help them disperse, propagate, and continue the circle of life.

6. Susan at Ink & Penstemon admits her denial about the end of summer (I can relate!). She says she learned lessons in garden structure after neglecting a section of her garden. “Being forced to see structure rather than garden pushed me to accept some conclusions I’ve tried to avoid,” she says.

7. Rose at Prairie Rose’s Garden offers the wise statement, “There’s no better place to continually learn new things than in the garden.” Her post shares multiple lessons learned over the years, and in particular, this growing season.

8. Holley at Roses and Other Gardening Joys faced the challenge of severe Texas drought this summer. Fortunately, she had an irrigation system in place. She says her lessons are simple ones, but sometimes the simplest lessons can make a huge difference.

9. Christine at The Gardening Blog was one of two Southern Hemisphere participants in the “Lessons Learned” meme. I was thrilled to read about her preparations for spring in South Africa! She offers some very practical tips which those of us in the “northern half” can apply next growing season.

10. Sheila at Green Place was thoroughly creative with her “Lessons Learned” post. It’s visually entertaining, and a very unique take on garden lessons!

11. Lyn at The Amateur Weeder also shares lessons from the Southern Hemisphere—in Australia. Her humorous take on plants having minds of their own is a universal lesson. She shares mistakes and successes, and genuine gratitude for garden blogging friends.

Other gardeners/blogging friends shared comments on Facebook. Joey at The Village Voice says she “still drags her feet/heart/hands, hating to say goodbye to summer.” So well-put! Jan at Thanks for Today has learned to be willing to let go of expectations. I’m still working on that one! Geri at gardengeri.com has learned that “privet isn’t always easy to kill.” Check out her website for more lessons and advice.

All of these posts are worth visiting—you’ll learn something new from each one. I also encourage you to check out the comments on the “Lessons Learned” meme. Little treasures of wisdom are found in each comment from one gardener to another. Thanks for being my fellow learners and teachers—sharing your wisdom, humor, and joy in gardening!

A song for September

2011-09-14T21:46:00.000-05:00

Under the September sun, the final Hosta blooms burst in cornflower blue.

Cosmos delight in bright pink,

white,

and deep fuchsia with yellow centers.

Zinnias continue to delight,

and Brown-Eyed Susans still brighten their little corner of the garden.

Sedum looks like a joyous bouquet,

while Hydrangea adds shades of rose and speckled pink to its everlasting blooms.

The Cucumber may not have time to fully transform from blossom to fruit,

but Impatiens thrive until the first hard frost,

and butterflies and bees are busy with purpose.

(Thanks to Carol at May Dreams Gardens for hosting Garden Bloggers Bloom Day.)

A most fascinating, colorful weekend

2011-09-11T20:43:00.001-05:00

Can you identify these mushrooms?

Generally, this blog is dedicated to all things plants, not fungi. But when I stumble upon a unique fungus, I'm as fascinated as I am with plants. I can't identify mushrooms, though. Can you? I could look up the names, but it's always fun to ask bloggers and Blotanical friends to share their expertise.

Those two mushrooms were nestled among the Cedar mulch in small garden beds near the front of our cottage. This was the last "summer" weekend up there, and boy was it a beauty! The mushrooms got us started on a fun weekend of discovery, which also included tons of Black Walnuts.

We don't harvest the Walnuts—too much work! If you know anything about Black Walnuts, you know how difficult it is to crack their multilayer shells. And you also know how messy the endeavor can be. Maybe we should try to sell them...to someone with the proper equipment.

The lot is full of Black Walnut trees, which means it's not the best location for a vegetable garden. But that's OK; we don't do much gardening there. Mainly we fish, forage, and appreciate nature. And we try not to disturb it too much. I usually spend a lot of time on this bench looking out at the lake, casting a rod, or reading a book.

Funny thing is, this weekend the view was more strikingly beautiful looking back from the dock to the shore. The Cattail reeds are wearing rainbow hues that reflect like a watercolor painting onto the water.

Next time we visit the cottage the air will be chilly; summer will be gone. But the colors will be even more vibrant. And the lake will be waiting.

*Note: All photos were taken with my cameraphone.

(Please join the fun for the "Garden Lessons Learned" meme. I'll be writing a post about the entries on Sept. 22. But it's never too late to share lessons learned in any season. Thanks to all the participants!)

Hope grows: It works for me

2011-09-04T22:33:00.001-05:00

Thanks to Hanni at Sweet Bean Gardening, I’m always looking forward to something in the garden. I’m not sure it will work in January (looking forward to February????), but so far it’s worked during the other months.

Of course one obvious choice for October is colorful foliage! And as I was preparing for this month’s Hope Grows post, I realized I need to photograph a lot more foliage this fall. That, in itself, is something to look forward to!

Maple, Burning Bush, and Sumac will delight next month. But so will the Hydrangea foliage. Imagine these huge leaves—as big as my hand—tinged with shades of rose and burgundy.

Another highlight for most of us in October is Mums. I’m not sure they’ll be in full bloom when I write the October Hope Grows post, but they’ll be showing color for sure, like this shot from a previous season.

And Autumn Joy Sedum will be luscious, as it continues its transformation from light green to pink, and finally to deep shades of mauve.

Lots to look forward to next month! Thanks, Hanni, for keeping us optimistic about the future!

[Please join in the new “Garden Lessons Learned” meme—by scrolling down to my previous post or by clicking on the widget to the right near the top of this page. I’ll be writing a post based on people's links and Facebook reflections at the end of the summer solstice—Sept. 22. Thanks to all those who’ve shared their lessons, reflections, and wisdom!]

Garden lessons learned: summer 2011

2011-08-31T20:16:00.002-05:00

Aside from a handful of extremely hot and humid days in July and a few dry weeks, Wisconsin weather has been near perfect this summer. I’m grateful for this.

Now we’re traveling down the path toward autumn, and it’s time to reflect on gardening lessons from the summer of 2011.

Among them (some personal and some universal):

1. Cover bulbs with lava rocks and plant onion sets among the annuals. I’ve tried so many techniques over the years to keep rabbits, squirrels, and chipmunks out of my plants (with mixed results). I wondered why I kept finding lava rocks in a couple of the garden beds. And after my Hyacinth bulbs were upended for the fourth time, I decided to stack lava rocks on top of them. Lo and behold—no more digging! So I bought a bag of lava rocks and plan to top all my bulbs this way. And I’ve known for years that onion sets repel critters but I’ve never planted them in pots among annuals before. The pots looked a little silly at first, but as the annuals filled in around them the onion greens were barely noticeable. These two tricks—lava rocks and onion sets—really work!

2. Resist the urge to water plants every day during a dry spell. With the exception of potted annuals and bright sunny gardens, most plants survive just fine without water for a few days. Then when a drought hits, they've developed deeper roots to handle the shortage of rain. Granted, we didn’t have a severe drought in southern Wisconsin this year. But even if we had, the plants—especially the native perennials—fare better with staggered watering. Because of my hectic schedule this summer, I watered infrequently out of necessity. And most of my plants are fine, albeit slightly stressed.

3. Take stock of color. My garden has plenty of color except for a very short stretch in mid-August. My solution: I’m planning to plant annuals or perennials that will bloom during this time. I haven’t decided which ones yet, but thanks to all the great suggestions from gardeners, garden bloggers, and Blotanical members, I have some great ideas. I’m also adding a few garden decorations. I tend to be Spartan and naturalistic in my garden design, but these light touches will bring pops of color—even in the depths of winter.

4. Take time to simply sit on the porch or in a quiet place, suck in the fresh air, listen to the critters, and relax. Even if you’re extremely busy like I was this summer, you can spare at least 30 minutes a week to simply enjoy your garden without rushing around and toiling. I learned this lesson years ago, but I had to make a special effort to practice it during this particularly hectic summer.

To help me with Nos. 3 and 4 above, my husband made this sweet garden bench, which we placed at the end of our wooded path. It’s perfect for reflecting on nature’s beauty at any time of year.

What about you? What garden lessons have you learned during the summer of 2011? Please link a recent post about your summer advice, reflections, or ideas to the Garden Lessons Learned Mr. Linky meme below. Happy (almost) autumn!

Wordless Wednesday:The circle of life

2011-08-23T20:37:00.000-05:00

Polygonatum biflorum June 2011

Polygonatum biflorum August 2011

~~~~~

Arisaema triphyllum May 2011

Arisaema triphyllum August 2011

~~~~~

Lycoris squamigera April 2011

Lycoris squamigera August 2011

~~~~~

(Note: I’m taking a brief break from blogging, visiting blogs, and Blotanical to move my daughter into her college dorm. I'll miss you all, but I'll "see" you in September!)

Plant of the Month: Lycoris

2011-08-19T21:50:00.000-05:00

When I started writing this blog 10 months ago, I committed to highlighting one plant a month. And one of the plants I knew would be part of the mix was Lycoris squamigera, a member of the Amaryllis family.

Lycoris squamigera

Its beauty elicits a mix of awe and sadness for me every year in late August. Awe, because of its lovely shape, color, and growth pattern; and sadness because it blooms at the transition time between summer and fall.

Some of its common names are:

Resurrection Lily, Surprise Lily, or Magic Lily: It appears out of nowhere and grows 2 to 3 feet tall in a few days.
Assumption Lily: It blooms near the Roman Catholic Feast of the Assumption.
Spider Lily: The flowers have petal segments shaped like spider legs.
Naked Ladies: The thick stems are straight, foliage-free, and topped with showy bright pink blooms.

Here are before and after shots of Lycoris, taken Sunday, Aug. 14, and Friday, Aug. 19, from approximately the same locations. (Note: I pulled back the Hosta leaves in the first shot.)

Lycoris is native to eastern and southern Asia. The Missouri Botanical Garden says it prefers sun to light shade, but Lycoris grows quite well in my shady garden. It’s hardy in zones 5-9, needs only moderate water, and it has no serious insect or disease problems. The flowers last in cut arrangements for several days and have a faintly sweet scent.

Summer is ending—a transition I struggle with every year. One of the bright spots is Lycoris, which reminds us that new life, new beginnings, and new opportunities often appear out of nowhere.

GBBD: It’s not easy being green

2011-08-15T22:05:00.000-05:00

Shade gardens are cool and comfortable hideaways during the heat of the summer. But they can be challenging in many ways. One of the most frustrating challenges for me is finding colorful perennials that bloom from late July through August.

No problem adding color on the sunny west side of the house:

Zinnia elegans and Rudbeckia hirta

But the perennial shade garden is green, green, and more green:

I’m not really complaining, but I’d like just a little more color. The garden has plenty of vibrant hues from late April through mid-July. But then everything goes green.

I just can’t seem to get Foxgloves going—I imagine they would be beautiful in waving swaths of color. Maybe I’ll try again next year. My Astilbes died off. I added another Astilbe this year, but it didn’t flower much. Again, there’s always next year. The purple Hosta flowers were lovely as always. But they’re done for this season.

So, I can spend all my time on the sunny side of the house, or plopped next to the potted annuals. Or I can look closer and appreciate the green—in blooms, former blooms, seeds, and berries.

Spiraea blooms were bright pink at their peak. But the seed heads are just as fascinating—even though they’re green.

Spiraea japonica

Sedum was a more dramatic bright yellow in full bloom, but it still holds a touch of chartreuse in its star flower/seed capsules.

Sedum kamtschaticum

Hydrangea was a pretty blush pink just a few weeks ago. Although I think the paper-white/greenish hue is just as fascinating, again it’s—green.

Hydrangea macrophylla

Jack-in-the-Pulpit’s berries are bright and shiny, and soon will be bright red. But now they’re bright…green.

Arisaema triphyllum

Lamium’s showing a bit of pinkish purple—surrounded by plentiful shades of green.

Lamium maculatum

I don’t have long to wait for color, though. Summer is waxing and waning now, and pigment is showing in Maple leaves, Sumac, Burning Bush, and many others. But before the autumn color takes over, I have one more beauty to look forward to. In a couple of days, the Lycoris will transform from buds on a stick:

Lycoris squamigera

To the stars of the late summer stage:

(Thanks to Carol at May Dreams Gardens for hosting Garden Bloggers’ Bloom Day.)

Truly a Better Boy

2011-08-13T12:26:00.000-05:00

I can’t stand it. When I have a nearly perfect organic Tomato in the garden, I face a dilemma.

Solanum lycopersicum ‘Better Boy’

Pick it when it’s fully grown, but still green? Or leave it in the garden to potentially be ruined by squirrels or spoiled by blossom-end rot, late blight, or wilt?

Will the rabbit fence and overarching branches protect it from damage?

It's a Better Boy hybrid and resistant to many diseases. But it’s so beautiful and nearly perfect now.

What would you do?

Fun with fresh cut flowers

2011-08-06T22:40:00.000-05:00

The other day, I created a fresh flower bouquet. I gathered Lilac branches…

Dill and Queen Anne’s Lace*…

Liatris…

Miscellaneous filler flowers…

Brown-Eyed Susans and Purple Coneflowers…

And Gladiolus*…

I lined them up…

And started building...

I added some Zinnias just beginning to open...

Then I was just about done, but this Delphinium didn't fit the color scheme...

Ready for display…

And the Delphinium was perfect on its own in a small bud vase.

For more fun with fresh cut flowers, check out Amy’s weekly flower arrangements at Get Busy Gardening.

(Note: All photos on this post were taken with my camera phone.)

*Dill and Queen Anne’s Lace were supplied by a fellow gardener. Glads were purchased.

Fred’s 'Sweet Mary'

2011-08-01T21:49:00.002-05:00

Fred and Mary Buffham (c. 1903)

In most marriages and committed relationships, love blooms, then fades, then blooms again. If you’re very fortunate and you work at it, the cycle repeats itself several times throughout life.

The same can be said of many plants, which bloom, fade, and then bloom again in the same season. Others go dormant, but bloom again the next season.

With this particular post, I have Roses on my mind. And in particular, a certain Rose cultivar created by my paternal great-grandfather, Fred Buffham, and named for his wife (my great-grandmother), Mary (Ressler) Buffham. I never knew Fred (an Englishman by birth) or Mary (an American of German ancestry), but I have a feeling their love bloomed repeatedly throughout their long marriage.

They settled on a farm in southern Minnesota, and raised a family. One line of the family still manages the farm, and the rest of us haven’t strayed too far—most of us living in the upper Midwest.

Through the years, my family came to call this particular cultivar the “Grandpa Buffham” Rose. But I found out recently Fred’s original name for it was “Sweet Mary.”

Fred's 'Sweet Mary'

We think Sweet Mary is a cross between a tea Rose and a wild Rose. We don’t know much more about the science behind its creation, except that it was one of Fred’s many grafting experiments.

But those of us who have cuttings planted in our gardens do know it’s one of the sweetest-scented Roses around. My father recalls that “Sweet Mary” was planted around the wide perimeter of a screen porch on the family farm in Minnesota. The scent must have been incredible, because just one of these Roses fills the air with a sweet tea aroma that makes me swoon.

The blooms aren’t spectacular, but they are pretty—a delicate shade of powder pink. But while “delicate” aptly describes the look of “Sweet Mary,” the plant is anything but. Like all Roses, it’s susceptible to thrips, aphids, and various other minor annoyances, although it doesn’t seem to be bothered too much by fungal diseases—and I don’t use systemics or chemical foliar sprays.

Given the right conditions, Sweet Mary thrives and takes minimal care. I deadhead the plants after blooming and trim them back by half in the fall. The main blooming time is in June, but sometimes Sweet Mary reblooms in the same season.

Old World Wisconsin's Raspberry School

This past May, Sweet Mary was planted at the Old World Wisconsin living history museum in Eagle, Wis.—just outside the “Raspberry School.” All photos shown at Old World were taken by my father, Jim Richards, who volunteers as a living history interpreter there.

Marcia Carmichael, Old World's historical gardener, prepares Sweet Mary for planting.

Marcia explains planting techniques to Old World visitors.

Sweet Mary in her new home near the Raspberry School.

I’m certain Fred and Mary Buffham would be happy to know their legacy lives on at the family farm in Minnesota, in their descendants’ gardens, and at a public historical site that welcomes visitors from around the world.

(Sweet Mary bloomed in my garden this season from early June through early July. I’ll let you know if it blooms again in August.)

Don’t spill the smoothie!

2011-07-25T17:34:00.001-05:00

It’s fun to be a forager. Every July, I look forward to hunting for Rubus occidentalis berries. We have a modest plot of land with a double-wide “cottage” about an hour’s drive north of our home. On that land are enough berries to feed an average family every day through the month of July.

Are these berries ripe?

If you said “yes” you are incorrect. Ripe Rubus occidentalis berries look more like this:

We call them Black Raspberries, but they’re also referred to as black caps, thimbleberries, and various other common names. This entire plot is filled primarily with Black Raspberries:

But that’s just one spot. The place is overloaded with them! When you hunt for Black Raspberries, you might see an obvious patch like this:

Or you might have to hunt a little harder for a patch like this:

Even the damselflies like the canes as landing spots.

They’re so plentiful, in some patches they stretch on and on into the woods.

Black Raspberries are sweet! They’re tasty right off the vine (of course, I’d recommend washing them if you’re going to eat a bunch). But here are two favorite recipes using Black Raspberries:

1. Triple Berry Crisp

1 1/2 C. fresh Black Raspberries

1 1/2 C. fresh Blueberries

1 1/2 C. fresh Mullberries

4 T. white sugar

2 C. all-purpose flour

2 C. rolled oats

1 1/2 C. packed brown sugar

1 tsp. ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp. ground nutmeg

1 1/2 C. butter

(Berry substitutions work well. Sometimes I use just two kinds of berries, making sure they add up to 4 1/2 C.)

1. Preheat oven to 350° F.

2. In a large bowl, gently toss together all berries and white sugar; set aside.

3. In a separate large bowl, combine flour, oats, brown sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Cut in butter until crumbly. Press half of mixture in the bottom of a 9X13-inch pan. Cover with berries. Sprinkle remaining crumble mixture over the berries.

4. Bake in preheated oven for 30-40 minutes, or until fruit is bubbly and topping is golden brown.

5. Serve with ice cream or whipping cream.

2. Raspberry-Banana Smoothie (no sugar added)

1 C. shaved ice

1 frozen Banana

1 C. fresh Black Raspberries

1/2 C. water

Place ingredients in blender in order shown. Pulse blender several times to mix ingredients, then “frappe” or “blend” for several seconds until mixture reaches desired consistency.

Whatever you do, don’t spill the smoothie—Black Raspberries leave stains! But they taste oh, so sweet and delicious. Enjoy!

It’s tropical, all right

2011-07-19T21:11:00.000-05:00

Two guests from tropical climates have been surprised by the diversity of plant life in my garden. The first was a visitor from Hawaii who spent a year here as part of a temporary career relocation. Unfortunately, she and her family had to endure the harsh, subzero winter. But when late May rolled around and she stopped by for a visit, she remarked, “Wow, this is every bit as beautiful as Hawaii.”

I remember thinking, “Really?” And, “I suppose but it only lasts a few months.” Instead, I believe I said, “Why, thank you…” and we launched into a discussion about climates and plants and other such comparisons.

The second was a recent guest on a warm afternoon. She looked out into the backyard and said, “Wow, that looks tropical!” Coming from someone who grew up in the Caribbean and travels back there frequently, the comment gave me pause.

I thought about the word “tropical.” Merriam-Webster defines tropical as:

1. Of, typical of, or peculiar to the tropics; or

2. Resembling the tropics, especially in being very hot and humid.

Well, the latter definition definitely fits during our current heat wave. And the Midwest climate is definitely as lush and fertile as the tropics during the fleeting, lovely warm season.

Anyway, I got to thinking about the annuals we grow here—plants that are native to the tropics and that thrive here in the summer but die when the temperatures freeze. It must be nice to have some of these beauties as perennials:

Common Impatiens (Impatiens walleriana). Native to East Africa, these bright, summer annuals grow like bushes under the right conditions. Some botanical gardens plant them directly in the ground, although I tend to plant them en masse in pots with other annuals.

Skyflower (Duranta erecta ‘aurea’). I recently discovered this plant because I was searching for chartreuse foliage for a potted arrangement. It’s native from Mexico to South America and the Caribbean.

Bleeding Heart (annual) (Fuchsia magellanica). How wonderful it would be to walk out into the woods and find this beauty growing in the wild. Native to Central and South America and the Carribean, Fuchsia thrives in summer hanging baskets in warm Midwestern shade gardens.

Common Coleus (Solenostemon scutellarioides). Sometimes Coleus foliage, alone, can be the standout in a potted arrangement. There are so many varieties of Coleus, each striking on its own, but especially vibrant when planted with other varieties. Coleus is native to tropical Africa and Asia.

Sweet Potato Vine (Ipomoea batatas). Another plant with stunning foliage, the ornamental Sweet Potato is available in several colors and forms. The chartreuse variety complements bright pink Impatiens and Bleeding Heart. Sweet Potato is native to tropical North, Central, and South America.

We’re tropical here in the Midwest, all right. At least as long as the summer lasts. I won’t say I look forward to winter, but I’m thankful most of our summer days hover around the 80s. And that we have a chance to appreciate some tropical plants as annual plantings.

GBBD: Lilies rule!

2011-07-15T05:48:00.000-05:00

It’s a good year for Purple Coneflowers, Liatris, Hydrangeas, and Delphiniums...and so many other plants. But the current stars are the Lilies!

I wish I could include all my friends’ amazing photos of Lilies, but then I’d have to contact everyone and get their permission. So, instead I’ll show the limited, but spectacular selection blooming right here in my garden.

The common Daylilies on the hill add a splash of color that I can see while I sit on the screen porch sipping a glass of wine on a perfect summer evening. Or while I’m at the kitchen sink washing dishes…or just gazing into the woods.

The three varieties of Daylilies planted in this problem area are thriving where no other plants (except Hostas) would grow. Their long foliage extends into a dry section under the eaves that gets hot afternoon sun but no rain unless the wind blows it in. Since the roots are firmly planted beyond the roof line, they get the moisture they need.

A stand of Asiatic Lilies took a few years to establish. But they’re thriving now. The problem in the past was rabbits! They'd eat (and still do if they can reach) the plump flower buds (just before bloom!) and then they’d strip the foliage from the stems. Granted, my fencing wasn’t very substantial, and I do plan to reinforce it. But I think the huge, fake snake and the Scallions planted around the Lilies might be keeping the bunnies away.

Unfortunately, they’re still destroying my Stargazer Lily. I really need to transplant it to a different spot!

This is what it looked like one year when the bunnies didn’t get to it:

Darn rabbits!

(Thanks to May Dreams Gardens for hosting Garden Bloggers Bloom Day!)

Wordless Wednesday: midsummer delights

2011-07-13T21:02:00.000-05:00

(A sweet blend of Liatris, Hydrangea, and Lilium)