Beautiful bugs

I don’t seem to have much luck photographing people, particularly people in motion. But I’ve had a little more success with bugs on plants. Some of the best plant photos I’ve been lucky enough to capture include insects as focal points.

They aren’t studio garden shots, and I didn’t shake off the crud and the bugs. They’re real photos of real plants in a backyard garden.

Bugs are a sign of a healthy garden (see Good Garden Ideas’ recent article about organic gardening). Of course, there are plenty of pesky, damaging insects (more on that topic later), but for the most part naturally occurring bugs are good for gardens.

Since most of the photos weren’t planned (I didn’t go into the garden planning to get great shots of insects on plants), I’m not sure I can give advice on how to do it. Mostly, it was just good luck…and also being patient, and willing to capture plants as they are—crud, bugs, and all.

Plant of the month: Peony

I'm a lazy autumn gardener. A lot of gardening experts recommend leaving dead, dried stems and foliage on some plants for "winter interest." When I first heard about this "technique" a few years back, it became my formal explanation (excuse) for following the practice. In all honesty, I simply lacked enthusiasm for bothering to cut them back. This autumn laziness stands in stark contrast to my generally boundless energy in mid to late spring, when I spend as much time as I can in the garden.

But there's one plant I always cut back in autumn--Peonies (Paeonia lactiflora). I just cut mine back today. The reason: Peonies are susceptible to wilt, a fungal disease, so it's important to cut off all the old growth and burn it or discard it. I've heard and read various opinions on how far back to cut the stems. Some experts recommend leaving a few inches above the ground; others say to prune to below the soil level. I usually leave about one to two inches of stem above ground. I leave cages around the stems, and pack lightly with Oak leaves. My theory is that this provides a structure of warmth under the mounds of snow that cover the plants from December through March.

  

Generally, I envy people who live in warm climates--they're comfortable and they can garden all year. But then I think about the plants I would miss out on if I lived further south, and that's a bit of a consolation. Some plants need a period of cool to cold winter dormancy in order to produce flowers and overall persist as perennial plants. Peonies are in that category.

I've had mixed luck with Peonies. Some years, the plants are overflowing with huge, fragrant blossoms. Other years, the flower heads are less plentiful. This last spring was one of the latter, in my garden at least. I think part of the reason was that we had a very mild, early spring. Peonies need plenty of sunlight to bloom. They usually bloom around here within two weeks before and after Memorial Day. This year, the Oak and other deciduous trees were leafed out early and shaded the Peonies in my garden a little too much. I still had blooms, just not as many.

I have two varieties of Peonies here. One was here when we arrived 11 years ago, the other I planted four years ago. The garden center labels are long gone, but I believe the cultivars are 'Sarah Bernhardt':

And 'Kelway's Gorgeous':

Peonies are a personal favorite, for so many reasons--they're beautiful, fragrant, impressively large flowers, and they're excellent additions to floral arrangements. As I prepare the plants for their winter nap, I'm remembering the color, bounty, and fragrance that will fill this space in late May and early June.

Past peak

After a busy work day, I walked around the corner of the house and saw this:

A Burning Bush (Euonymus alatus) with oblique light filtering through it is one of the most amazing sites in any autumn garden. The colors are breathtaking! Most of the annuals are dead or dying, and the perennials are going dormant. Deciduous leaves are fading from their peak.

But this year, like every year, there’s a transition time—from early October through mid-November—between colorful, mild autumn and blustery, snowy winter when nature throws us colorful surprises. The burnt rust red of the lingering Oak leaves and the variegated shifting colors of the Hydrangea macrophylla take my breath away.

Before the truly bitter winter weather sets in:

• Take a walk around your yard or at the park. Focus on the surprises: Notice the lingering Lamium (Lamium maculatum) stubbornly hanging on in a crack between the blacktop driveway and the lawn, or the heirloom Rose bush with maturing rose hips.
• Notice how some plants seem to burst alive when the temperatures plummet. Mums (Chrysanthemum) that wilted in warmer weather perk up with brilliant bright tints during crisp, cool days. Note how the hues of Ornamental Cabbage and Kale (Brassica oleracea) intensify after the first hard frosts.
• Gaze out a picture window and take an informal inventory of the scene. Chances are, you’ll see a colorful plant or two still surviving that you didn’t expect.
• Move in close to a vibrant plant. Notice the richness of the color and the blending of various hues. It’s easy to see how our ancestors found colors for cloth dye.
• Brave the chill at daybreak or near dusk. Oblique light can cast especially dramatic tints on plants and flowers.

Don’t miss out on the bounty! Take in the chromatic show before winter sets in. Even past the peak of autumn leaves’ last hurrah, nature still surprises us with dramatic flushes of color.

Keeping dreams alive

It's early November. I'm missing my garden. From April through September, I spend parts of most evenings outside--checking on plants, enjoying the fresh air, taking in the beauty. This time of year in this northern climate, it's too dark and too cold to spend much time outside when I get home from work. So it's time to dream. That's why I really like the message on this blog: May Dreams Gardens. The author's tagline describes exactly how I feel right now: "All year I dream of the days of May when the sun is warm, the sky is blue, the grass is green, and the garden is all new again!"

Most years at this time I would turn inward about now--toward holiday preparations, crochet projects, and books--and stop thinking about my garden until late January, when I would start planning the spring plantings. This year, this blog will help me to keep the gardening dreams alive even during the dark months.