Ilona's Garden Journal

poem "gratitude"

2009-11-25T08:15:00.004-05:00

for the gift of a long and adventurous life
and the wisdom learned with each mistake.
for the gift of my son, as he onward makes
his way, finds love,and his future wife.

for the gift of health, despite aches and pains.
the body's wear and tear effects
are worse from years of some neglect.
yet i've made it through, with much to gain.
for happiness in these later years
for joy and laughter, and the tears.
for hearth and home, for sun and rain.

for gardens made, and those to come.
for companionship, good friends and love
for all these blessings from above....
for a life well-lived and the harvest home.

best thanksgiving blessings to all...

vty, j-lea

Mid November Garden Photos

2009-11-20T13:59:00.001-05:00

Here are some photos in a plain collage, the only common feature is that they are from my garden and taken after frosts have visited. Now, fun question. Can you guess what the golden leaved shrub is called,(pictured in the top middle and top left photos)? The reason I wonder is [hint] because so often it is censured as "dull" and without much seasonal interest.

Well, now that I have photographic proof, I beg to differ.

That shrub is a Syringa vulgaris, believe it or not. Although many of my lilacs are not as brightly colored in fall as this one - it still proves that they can deliver some fall color, and pruned well, they are something of a feature...besides their incomparable fragrance and fine spring flowers. there. I am now uncloseted, a veritable lilac lover.

Top right the globe arborvitaes are seen through a veil of twisted Harry Lauder's Walking Stick branches, Corylus avellana ‘Contorta', with a sprig of lunaria seed, Moneyplant.

Middle left is the diehard survivor, Nepeta mussinii, living close to the ground with its soft lavender bloom. I unmercifully sliced off all its brethren's heads for winter. Call me Queen of Hearts.

Middle middle is my self seeded calendula. This is what they look like if self seeded, not the full petaled pastel confections of the hybrids. I also have bright orange in the same form, semi-double. They seem to come alive after frosts, but I remember how unpleasant it is to have to pull their carcasses from the frozen ground at the turn of the year. And so, force myself to pull them earlier, while they still are giving last gasps of color to my garden. Isn't this Pot marigold pretty? I've never tried the petals in stews, but my Kitchen garden book says they were commonly used in Medieval English cookery.

The far right middle is the tardy fall color of the weeping willow, Salix babylonica. She sings "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina" to the wind as she only now loses her leaves while they turn a final gold-yellow.

Now I will have to run the leaf vacuum again since she is singing the finale of the season with the sweet gum nearby. All the other trees have packed up and taken sabbatical for the winter.The photo angle catches the Annabelle and sedum flower heads.

Hidden in the Dawn viburnum, I had no idea this bird's nest was here...almost at eye level for me. Bursts of sparrows from my pyracantha every time I walk nearby leave no doubts about their whereabouts, however. Bottom left.

Bottom middle, is the spray of yellow leaves from the kerria japonica. I have the single blossom type, which I prefer. It has bright green stems all winter.

Bottom right, the sweet gum still bright and actually turning kaleidoscope variations of red, orange, purple. A Harlequin that holds leaves for an absurdly long time.

I don't write poetry very often... it takes decades to pry one out of me that I think is half decent in relaying my feeling in something that I also consider art. However I did write one that I posted back in January. Winter's Meeting.

Joanne is the resident bard... and I thought maybe she would like to read it.

Technorati Tags: November color,

I Think I Will Try That

2009-11-20T12:02:00.001-05:00

I have found a new favorite blog! I always did like to color with Crayons

clipped from carolinescrayons.blogspot.com

Lawn Politics

2009-11-19T07:52:00.005-05:00

I'm sorry, I sort of had to laugh when reading an exchange between two garden writers. Not sure what social media form it was, but one let slip the admiration for a lawn. The silent gasp was almost audible from the other, though it was rather polite, and the first gardenperson was not quite, but almost apologetic in the defense of a bit of lawn.

I'd rather the garden gets religion than political savvy. But having my druthers I guess I want what "Punk Rock Garden" voiced, a little peace and love in the garden.

While I am not a great lover of lawns, particularly those which spread themselves across acres and acres of suburbia, I do have a defense of sorts for good use of a lawn in a landscape.

If you are too closeminded on the subject to read on, that is ok... we can live together, but perhaps even you, too, can learn to love a lawn if it is the right type in the right place.

I suppose the first thing I have to tell everyone is that my definition of a lawn is not everyone elses. Mine comes from the green spaces I was familiar with as a child in Ohio. We have plenty of rain here, first of all. And the old style lawn that I remember had plenty of clover in it, mown with a hand and bicep driven mower. There were lots of bees that enjoyed it for forage as I can attest by the large number of bee stings I managed to suffer each year.

And that brings me to one top reason to have some lawn in a yard: it is great for a play space for children, for a picnic spread, or a blanket in the sun. If you live in spring mud-heaven conditions like I do now, a grass lawn is one of the best ways to traverse from here to there without picking up huge clods of sticky mud on footwear.

It is cooling, and wears well with foot traffic. It can look serene and beautiful in a special place carved out for it. And if resisting the seduction of lawn care specialists with their many sprays and portrayals of velvet green "turf", a lawn can be eco-friendly. Here in Ohio clover keeps things green when the grasses go dormant in late summer, their nitrogen producing nodes help to feed the grasses, and the mulching mowers which leave clippings small and in situ create a sustainable cycle.

And one of the things about gardens, let's face it, is that it is not natural. We create and maintain our spaces... which is half the reason there is so much to learn in the gardening endeavor.

I just think if someone wants a little lawn let them have it.

And let's give ourselves to educating and encouraging each other to do all the things we do in our husbanding of the earth with wisdom. It goes without saying that we are all on a journey of learning how to do things well and in benefit of ourselves, and our environment. Politics has little to do with that, in the final analysis. Politics was always better at bullying than at nurturing, and it is time we say so.

So I'm with Punk Rock Garden, let's have a little more peace and love. Bring the Flower Child out to play in the garden.

Technorati Tags: lawns,

More November Retrospects

2009-11-18T11:00:00.003-05:00

This is the Gardener's Year in Review...probably the one thing in which we gardening enthusiasts are a step ahead of the rest of the world: review the year in November.

I spoke already of some of the successes and failures of 2009, but I have some other things to add. This blog has become a memory bank of sorts, like any proper journal ought to, and I often look back into my posts to see the names of plants I bought and when. I keep intending to make a hard copy journal, but from the time I was twelve, with all the little girl diary motivations, I have never been true to that commitment of writing in a journal. Until the online world emerged...but I am digressing...

This year saw two new additions to my garden: the greenhouse, and a rain barrel. Both of which I have wanted for years and years. Now that I have them I am trying to integrate them into my old dog gardener ways. The rain barrel caused a bit of disagreement between me and my husband.

[oops- don't know why that published- read on for "the rest of the story"]

I want to use the rain barrel for wintertime water in the greenhouse... he is grousing about not putting the rain barrel away for the winter: "If it freezes and cracks, I am not going to buy another one".
the green house stays pretty warm over the winter... not warm enough for tropicals, but with my idea of insulating the bottom area with straw bales around the outside, it seems it could weather Ohio's worst.

So we came to a compromise of sorts. I agree to drain it out if the thermometer registers a single digit threat, with the additional parting growl of "... but you are responsible for taking care of it, I'm not going to check your greenhouse for you".

And so it is.

Now, I need to buy that straw.

I cleared out a weedy patch from part of the bed that I let go wild with Charles de Mills Gallica roses and volunteer asters. The asters showered me with their tiny feathery seeds, and Charles prickled right through my leather garden gloves to register his displeasure. I used some of the free mulch to give a cloak of civility to the wild bed for winter's sake.

This same bed holds the contorted hazel, which once divested of the underbrush of asters and rose canes showed it once again needed some watersprouts pruned out. So I obliged. I saved the straight canes in a place beside the green house where my imagination has me weaving some twiggy supports during winter weekends sheltered in my cozy greenhouse. We'll see. (I have come to use that phrase much when at the start of my mind's eye of new ventures).

I sawed off a large branch from the fringe tree to give it more of a tree form than the wide spreading, half shrub shape it often takes. I cut larger branches with some trepidation that somehow I might be maiming it for posterity, but it looked better to my eye, so no harm done.

A few leftover daylilies were tucked in, while I saved the major pruning to the old lilac for another day.

Today the soft rains came.

And so it goes - my soul finally feeling rest that my most pressing work was done, a few extra improvements made, and a look forward to what is possibly one my favorite pastimes: garden planning for the next year.

I have a few pictures yet to share with you, my dear readers, and tucked into the back pocket of my mind are rural ruminations, although I need a good camera day for pictures to partner with the thoughts. Til then, friends- peace and contentment along with a grateful spirit.

fire in the sky

2009-11-17T09:01:00.003-05:00

it has been clear and sunny for the last several days here in georgia. i knew that
the Leonid meteor shower was one of the best sky shows of the year. at 10 pm,
the sky was cloudless, and i was determined to get up and sit in the yard
to watch the eastern sky before dawn. i am very lucky to have a good sky, here
on the farm, for viewing the moon and stars....over the broad eastern pastures,
and to the south there is perfect darkness. the air was pleasantly chilly.
although often at this time of year, one can get too shivery to endure the wait.
my quilt and fuzzy slippers did me fine; the dogs were good company.

at 4 AM the sky was streaked with bluish light. most were quick and short, but
every so often there would be a long trail. the beauty of the bright firmament above
held me in a trance. i felt one with everything in the universe...nourishing my soul.
by 5:30, they had become infrequent-less visible- as morning came to pull me
away from such timeless union, and back to the body's wants and needs. i returned to
my world, built a morning fire and made coffee. i am still contemplating this
"enlightenment"experience, and so i wrote this sonnet.
i hope you got to enjoy the show!
vty, j-lea

- Meteors -

awake before the dawning light
i hurry out into the night.
the moon is down, the heavens glow
with shooting stars; from here below,
it seems they dance the sky so free
and something stirs inside of me,
that sings in stellar harmony.

bright streaking sparks of distant fire
are said to grant your hearts desire.
my soul embraces beauty's flight,
content to sit in silent night
a witness to this holy light.

Season's End

2009-11-17T08:58:00.006-05:00

End of November will mean the final end of my growing season. There have been years I plant and do garden work in December and January, but it is a bit of madness really... and I don't see that in my future at this point. So the end of my garden season, it is.

I'm cleaning up around the yard, and I pushed to plant the final fifty tulip bulbs. Turned out to be more difficult than I pictured. Not that this is unusual. The mind has a way of viewing physical work as a logical sequence of time slotted tasks which the actual working out, with sweat equity, makes a mockery. When you are both the white collar and blue collar worker of your garden you get that rare taste of the basic conflict between an ivory tower and the "digger of the moat". I remember the sharp lesson one July. I had assigned a task of digging out an area of the driveway island for a small bed to a couple of my sons. It was typical Midwestern high summer weather- hot and drippingly humid. They weren't making good progress, so I pulled on the garden gloves to assist. Wow, what a wake-up call. The mind's picture that it was a small bed only so by so, with several strong workers on task, all melted in pouring perspiration, and nasty thoughts about the small gravel that made the digging particularly onerous. I sent said workers inside for a respite (along with myself), and never forgot that lesson: what I imagined was a relatively easy task, when complicated by real world conditions, required much more effort than was allotted for in the mental plan. Moat digger to Ivory tower,"Are you nuts?"

The picture above is of that driveway bed as of today. It holds a young 'Prairie Fire' crabapple tree, fronted by Annabelle hydrangea, backed by what Coreopsis verticillata looks like in mid November, variegated sedum, some lambs ears, and goldflame spirea which has lost its lovely apricot autumn leaf. I really should work on this garden some more... next year. A brick edging maybe.

If you are in the mood for more ruminations on the end of the season and how my garden grew... read on, as they say....

I wanted to wedge that moral lesson in up front... before I amble on about how melancholy this time of year tends to make me. It isn't the change of season or the gray brown colors. I am one of those people who usually likes stormy weather, winter scenes, and quiet evenings at home. But I think it is the solemn comparison of the high hopes of Spring with the reality of work done, and season accomplishment that dampens my spirits far more than any November clouds or precipitation.

This year we had a wonderful Indian Summer. I wasted much of it inside, but that is par for the course in how I do things... nevertheless I didn't waste all of it, and what I enjoyed was delicious.

There is something very correcting in the natural balance of my garden in early spring and late fall. It looks neat, and groomed, with newly weeded and dug garden beds, edged verges, mown lawn, and pruned plants. Mulch covers a multitude of sins, blanketing with a semblance of homogeneous brown. My eye looks over the garden and I am not just satisfied like some outdoor hausfrau, but inspired to dream of future artistry. As if I have cleaned the palette, and primed the canvas for yet another work of art...next season.

Yet, I am melancholy. Nagging thoughts of my waning energies, and the knowledge that we have no promises of tomorrow are likely reminders contributing to that. My backward look over the season is marked with some thoughts of the failures: tomatoes did not do well, that front perennial bed was not renovated, weeds had gotten into the driveway bed and needed much more time to remove. It was a banner year for bindweed.

Awkwardly, I force myself to see what was accomplished and enjoyed. I have some cleared and renewed plantings in the gardens nearest the house. Exciting things like the Jack Frost Brunnera, and the second year of the Caramel Heuchera have been growing well. Finally, renewing of tulip beds, with some fresh Holland grown tulips (always best in their first year here)guarantee to brighten my coming April in 2010. The bushes around the drive island all well pruned, much poison ivy vanquished, vegetable gardens brought back into production, a giant pile of free mulch, trees professionally pruned this year, winning parts of the garden back from forced neglect of past years.

My garden is my own.

I think I am finally coming to terms and accepting that, in both actual gardening and life. A personal garden, fitting in with many other demands and obligations; there...because I want it there. And that is as good a lesson as any to meditate on, to ameliorate the melancholy... and allow it to mellow to a settled contentment of mind.

Finally, the November frosts and rains mellow things, don't they? What's past melts into the ground and waits... there is a seed within it. What future joys and life are in that seed? It is the gardener's good pleasure to see in the next season. And there is a lot of hope in that.

Weekend Reading

2009-11-13T22:42:00.003-05:00

Remember corduroy roads from history class?
Tree Notes gives a fascinating look at the history of wooden road surfaces.

Lovely winter containers?
Seasonal wisdom gets Kerry Michaels favorites. With pictures.

A Look at all that rain in the Queen of Seaford's garden.

Thoughts on Wabi-sabi by Bloomingwriter.

I love the pictures I love the thought of this sort of meadow garden.

The American Meadow Garden: Creating a Natural Alternative to the Traditional Lawn available on Amazon.

We Have History Together

2009-11-10T22:25:00.002-05:00

...but that isn't really what this is about...not our history, Joanne, but some links to gardenhistory girl's posts and old pictures of Japanese dish gardens, and bonsai.
Enjoy. I immediately thought of you and your work with bonsai when I saw these.
Post one, 'Japanese Dish Gardens', and some nice images from somewhere in rare book image collections...in which I can easily lose myself for hours....

Love this stuff, so thanks, Arcady, we appreciate your blog.

Never enough time...

2009-11-03T12:26:00.007-05:00

But we make time for those things we want to. Just sometimes it is response to others applying pressure and all we want is to get that feeling of pressure off! Well, today let's just buck that trend, shall we? Do you need to take a little time to savor life today? Here are some of my photos and some links I thought were very worthwhile reading lately.

Assorted and asundry photos that for some reason didn't get posted.

This is what endless summer looks like in fall. It had the loveliest shabby rose colored blooms.

These are my neighbors who own Yonies Greenhaus. I try to buy as many of my flowers from them as I can. They just started up in the last few years, and have excellent plant material, grown with earth friendly means. I learned of the use of neem oil while listening in on their conversations with another customer. (I'm snoopy like that, if I'm not in a hurry). They are the BEST neighbors and really wonderful growers. Worth taking the time to find, not far from the Der Dutchman restaurant. I'll post more on the next growing season.

I might have already posted one view of this. I liked these containers ( two matching ones. They were pretty all through the season. I cut back hard after this photo- and the plants rewarded me, but no pictures. I was off to other vistas with the camera. The planter is a bit ...ahem...rustic since I used these for my daughter's wedding flower arrangements and had stuck duct tape on to secure them to a stand, which was then covered over with Spanish moss. They were so lovely :) But when I pulled off the duct tape... oops, no paint, just the resin base. I keep meaning to touch it up, but you know how that goes...

An offspring from the old "Fairy" mix of Shirley poppies I scattered through the garden so long ago. Brushed with the bronze fennel foliage.

A portrait of my porch begonias this year.

An orchid in my living room. So far it is still growing.

Some worthwhile links for today:

Do You Remember Crockett's Victory Garden?

Little Country Graveyard

As Simple As A Windowsill...

Gardening with Grace

Kiss the Summer Flowers Goodbye with LonaDawn

John's Choice Flowers

My Father's Chrysanthemums

Cool Things

2009-11-02T10:51:00.001-05:00

"Chapter 2: We'll have fun, fun, fun 'til our daddy takes the clay away"
Check out Teresa's doings, I'd categorize this under "Things I'd like to Be Doing"

clipped from homesteadnotes.blogspot.com

Some Thoughts

2009-11-01T21:15:00.006-05:00

I've been online a while writing garden articles, first in my geocities free website (which is no more- although it is on the "wayback machine"). One of the early fellow garden writers I had enjoyed was Turning Earth. Do any of you know her through her site? Today I came across a reference to those early days,here:

'Bloom where you are planted'
"I first saw these words on Ilona's garden site. In the midst of a thousand bits of advice we read about how to be happy, successful, discover the meaning of life, these words seemed to me some of the most profound. It's a nice garden-related metaphor, but of course applies to all of us, everywhere.

The web has enabled many of us to create our own small corners where we can "bloom", whether our websites are about gardens or something else entirely."

Do you know why I wanted to mention that? Because for me, to influence someone, in however small a way, to encourage or affirm , or inspire, is a great honor. To be a part of someone's life in that way is just such a privilege. And like Lisa says, the web has offered many of us just such opportunities to connect like that. And in some ways, it comes back around, because she reminded me once more of the wisdom of that saying. I had to reconsider whether I had drifted from it into discontent and confused vision. I had originally written about that in a page now adapted for the php page it is on, an early description of this very Midwest garden I had begun, and now write about and photograph so much in this blog.

Turning Earth has remained in my bookmarks through computer crashes and virus meltdowns, and through lost bookmarks from old Netscape browser updates (now that dates me if nothing else does). Her photographs have always been excellent and her writing is evocative and top notch in my estimation.

Turning Earth was very influential upon me in terms of what I liked in a garden website. Blogging has changed my ability to create what I would like, in that it is a form of coding that I have not mastered. It is easier and more prolific to use, but I have less ability to manipulate it in terms of design. Sometimes I think about returning to the html format on my website, where I still have many of the older pages updated. But the blog platforms really simplify the ability to have writing output unencumbered by writing all that coding!

I still admire Lisa's ability to make things artful and keep them simple at the same time. She has depth to her gardening, in experience and as a true plantswoman - which is not true of every one who writes about gardening. I love the glimpses into her garden and projects.

I suppose this is very boring to most you, sorry. Just thoughts after revisiting Lisa's site and smitten with the fact that she had something so nice to say with a link to my site.

"Make new friends, but keep the old; One is silver, and the other gold". Certainly, my friendship with Joanne has proven the truth of that old ditty (from Girls Scout days!!! If I go back much further I might disappear :)

The painting: Tomorrow by Edward Raymes.

Seeded Earth

2009-11-01T10:20:00.001-05:00

Do visit this blog- the photos are amazing , ranging from the profoundly beautiful to the witty. Thoroughly enjoyed the look-see I took. Advise you do the same

clipped from www.seededearth.com

Whooping It Up!

Autumn Snapshots

2009-11-01T01:44:00.009-04:00

Viburnum Carlesii

Photo of V.carlesii taken for the profile article I wrote.

I'm glad to have found some kindred spirits. Not sure what we would call our tribe, but glad to have ways that I and my fellow beings resonate.

I guess it is time for some pictures. I missed capturing the exceptional colors of the sweet cherry tree when in its full glory, so you will have to take my word for it, but traveled around the yard last week... and here are some of those photos.

This year the colors came in waves- much better than usual, but I caught them on camera early -with green still showing.

Found this creepy spider inside the bird feeder.

The Cornus Kousa leaves and abandoned raking.

Pretty poison ivy growing in a weed domain, which we have since worked to clear out.

Proof that work gets done around here.

More proof.

Colors of the tamarisk tree.

I found a neighborhood cache and collected some hedge apples.

The black eye of the Susan.

The sweet cherry tree actually deepened in color before the leaves finally fell the other day. Here they are golden with the bark looking very black after the rain.

Costmary still flowering with its button blooms.

Sad Truths

2009-10-30T13:11:00.007-04:00

There are many sad truths in life. We find many of them in the garden, contributing to the melancholy way we feel in fall when our natural tendency is to do a retrospective similar to the way we view the timeline of the year at New Year's. The same transitioning from one season to the next draws us into such thinking.

Actually, the inspiration for these thoughts came from the very mundane action of copying one of my older posts from here to the garden website. The sad truths of blogs are that they are even more ephemeral than most writing... the audience for blogs demands fresh new content and is loath to dig up past posts, unless a search engine happens to oblige. And so if there is a post which shouldn't get lost in the jumble of daily writings, I have started to retrieve it and put it on the website.

But back to the beginning topic, the melancholy of my garden. Don't you feel it, too? The promise of new growth and life and hope are replaced with the promise of decay, of the deep sleep and hoped for survival of cold winters. And unless you are deep in denial, you recognize the sorrow of that. I've read those who say they delight in the turn of life to death and all its natural circle, but I doubt them. I sincerely doubt that they are so resigned to such endings and I believe it is only in the hope of natures reprized thaw of spring and return of life that they are truly finding their delights.

Not that melancholic fading and demise don't have their beauty. They do, but isn't it in the full spectrum of remembering their beauty of bud and bloom, in their rivaling struggle to retain their tints of sugars and sap of the growing season? That we allow for the tints of death at all ...all emptied as it becomes of colors and its disintegration into the lost world of soils, humus, and duff is in what it may yet become.

My rejoicing in winter is that I survive its powerful hold. That my fires are warm, and my cuddled toes are deep in the wool of socks, while the drink in my hand is steaming. That I look out the frost glazed windows to a world of battered beiges and the white of frozen snow blankets from inside my little fortified walls. Waiting for the sure vanquish of winter by the surge of spring's newly warmed winds, carrying the change into a new season that I have been given the grace to experience.

But until then, that the fresh arrival of spring, the autumn and its fading colors bring a sadness that all things have an end, and the mighty efforts of one season are over and now weighed out for comparisons against all the others.

Hellebores and Friends

2009-10-29T18:41:00.006-04:00

Sue of "A Corner Garden", which is a lovely blog, btw- I just love the picture of your garden and lovable dog, left a question on an old post... "Hellebore Happiness". I wanted to answer and not have it lost in the ole blog "back 40".

Sue wrote:

Hi Ilona,
I clicked on "hellebore" in your sidebar to find your post on it. I just discovered them in my sister's yard when she moved. They didn't all come back for her last spring, but I hunted and found different kinds at different places. I had to plant them where our grandson wouldn't get to them. Some are in moist shady places. Others are in a raised built in planter in front of our house. It's on the south side, but shaded from a large maple tree. The eave sticks out over them, so I have to water them. Whenever we don't finish our water or coffee, I'll toss it onto them. They do dry out from time to time. I am glad yours perked up after being watered. Mine just haven't put much new growth on, but are starting to now. I am excited about that.

Did you plant the ones you had inside?

Hi Sue, so glad you came to the journal here and left a comment. I love comments.

It sounds like you are doing things right for your new hellebores, and since it is something of a drier area (under the eaves always is) maybe you could mulch them with a bit of compost. It would help protect them and build up moisture retentiveness in the soil.

Hellebores are known to take a little time to settle in... so I think we need to be patient with our new plantings :)

Why, yes, I did plant those indoor plants outside and they fared very well all summer. I just checked on them the other day and they look quite nice. Of course, this winter is the acid test- it is going to be colder than usual the almanac tells us. If they live through this winter I think I'll have some prize plantings! I'll also be able to tell when the "niger" type of hellebore blooms in this zone- I am fairly sure I won't see anything during Christmas season. Already had the Lenten type and they bloom very early in the spring, but usually it is too cold for me to really go out and spend much time looking at them.

I think I will take some pictures of the new hellebore plants for my own records, though, now that I am thinking of it.

Finally: Affirmed in Saving Magazines!

2009-10-28T11:48:00.003-04:00

Now there is no hope I will agree to throw away loved magazines... I will just have to collect enough of the same kind to have a stool...or two!

clipped from eachlittleworld.typepad.com

Designer Arik Levy has come up with the perfect way to organize, file, and store my magazines in plain sight while giving me additional seating wherever I need it with his his Book Stool.

Gardening with Prairie Plants

2009-10-27T13:07:00.003-04:00

Gardening with Prairie Plants: How to Create Beautiful Native Landscapes
by Sally Wasowski

While in the library I picked up a copy of this book... I was in the middle of writing about prairie gardens as a style, and so it caught my interest. Little did I realize what a gem of a garden book I had happened upon. Literate, expert, and easy to apply, I think any gardener would benefit from having this book on their shelves. After all, don't many of us grow coneflowers, black-eyed Susans, and experiment with grasses, already?

Generally, it helps to know a plant's origins, and an area's climate and soil conditions. You can grow your plants with the pig-in-a-poke mentality, and probably have a lovely garden doing it (if you are an observant and nurturing gardener), but gardening knowledgeably increases your own joys as well as helps you have more successes. 'Gardening With Prairie Plants' does just this, helps you garden knowledgeably with prairie plants.

The chapters take you through a journey of understanding: Part I beginning with "Getting Acquainted with Prairies" gives an overview of the types of prairies and their native regions. From depictions of some of the gardens incorporating prairie plants and styles to a breakdown of facts about plants and their growing conditions in a prairie, "Anatomy of a Prairie", concludes this part.

As you follow though each part and its chapters the subtle beauty of this landscape form begins to draw you in, aided by the easy prose and the diverse facts. The detours, to which a large topic can lead, fascinate. Yet, the author keeps it tightly bound together in a way which keeps the detours as tantalizing glimpses, while pursuing the main road of giving an expert basis for understanding what defines a prairie and how gardeners can bring this into their own landscaping plans.

While largely an informational book, it is richly illustrated with photos of both large and small scale plantings, of wild nature and gardened places, to bring home the promise that this is truly an accessible style of landscaping, with specific rewards to us and the environment. It isn't a one-size-fits-all sort of garden or garden book, and that is something important the author, Wasowski, makes clear. In Part II, the reader is helped along a sequence of determining conditions that then produce guidance in choosing the types of plants for a particular type of prairie. Discussion of maintenance is given its own chapter. That seems to be the downfall of many a well intentioned prairie/ or meadow space, and so was a welcome chapter inclusion.

Part III holds an excellent section all about profiles of grasses, which makes this an ideal volume for those who want to grow more grasses, as opposed to lawn, in their gardens. And the wide range of forbs, the non-grasses, makes this truly a garden book, with perhaps a new vision on how to use many plants we are already familiar with. Savannah trees and shrubs bring up the rear, to outline a full spectrum landscape which hearkens back to the native growth of our wide open spaces, now largely farmland spotted with suburban outcroppings.

I found myself savoring the pictures, and planning more of the look of a wild prairie garden for my own yard. It incorporated all the hard won lessons I have experienced into a new vision of where my garden might best go and grow in the future. The discovery of the intricacy of the prairie plant world was a delightful outcome of poring over the pages and the stories of the particular gardens. Garden plan illustrations were included for example, and while not the lionshare of the book, they greatly increased the value of the information for home gardeners.

This is one book I want on my bookshelf, and believe you will, too. There have been few books I would recommend as highly for educational resource, horticultural expertise, and eye for beauty.

Technorati Tags: garden book review, prairie garden

Our Prairie Home

2009-10-26T11:19:00.007-04:00

One of the things I love about garden writers is the way they express the familiar through new eyes. I may not agree completely on their take of it, but it brings me into a new appreciation of something that I might have cataloged and then filed away in some obscure forgotten corner of my mind. In our quest for the new, we have a tendency to do that. This tendency keeps us from becoming overly parochial in our thinking, but it can also become its own little trap. Neglecting something of value and beauty just because it isn't novel, and valuing quite mundane things simply because they are novel.

So after writing my own article on "The Prairie Garden" which is a landscape form native to my area, it is with much enjoyment that I came across some lively discussion of how Europeans, in the words of Englishmen in particular, view this garden state (and for most of us, it is a garden state- having lost 99.9% of true natural prairie in our country).

Noel of "Noels Garden Blog" writes many cogent points about the European interpretation of our prairies, much of which is in response to thinkinGardens' review of "Noel Kingsbury's roundabouts". You know, those bits of planting in the busy urban thoroughfare.

One of the very best garden books I have come across, Sally Wasowski's Gardening with Prairie Plants: How to Create Beautiful Native Landscapes, says this:

"A prairie landscape can be a simple residential garden as small as a few hundred square feet, or it can be the primary vegetational expression for a whole subdivision... Or it can look more like a classic flower garden that substitutes prairie forbs and grasses for standard exotic nursery stock"

And it is in the spirit of that last suggestion that the roundabouts seem to have been planted. The flavor of the American prairie which gives Noel the literary impetus to present us this view, "So, the hypothetical American asks, why do all these Europeans so love our prairie?" To which he gives a five part answer.

Actually many of American gardeners have to ask the same hypothetical of ourselves. We so often do not know about, much less appreciate, our own native landscapes.

And so, it is educational and edifying to revisit our own landscape form through the eyes of thinking Englishmen to come roundabout to our own discoveries of our rich horticultural blessings.

Resources I used for this article:
Noel's Garden Blog
thinkinGardens
The Prairie Garden

Giant Pumpkins

2009-10-26T05:56:00.005-04:00

Yesterday I watched, with a mixture of fascination and horror, the PBS documentary "Lords of the Gourd" about the lengths people will go to in growing the most gigantic pumpkin. It isn't that I couldn't identify, but that is part of the horror.

Gardening is something with hooks.

I think it is the combination of science, beauty , and nurture.... it causes us to connect on many levels and that is what makes for a great passion in life, don't you think?

The documentary followed a number of pumpkin growing aficionados in their quest for the biggest pumpkin on record and the annual contest that is held in Cooperstown. What you learn from the newspaper account is that growers also vie for the longest gourd and the biggest tomato (this year's weighed in at 2.16 pounds). I'm sure the film was done to document the dedication of the giant pumpkin grower, however; perhaps due to the Herculean lengths they will go to to accomplish their dreams of the biggest pumpkin of the season.

Besides the care, the genetics of the pumpkins are important. One grower saving seed and meticulously marking and numbering each one, after careful manipulation of the fertilization process. What patience and attention to detail!

I think the two things that fascinated me most were the man who scientifically monitored his pumpkins with an electronic sensor and all kinds of equipment in a little shed to compile the data on what conditions were during the growth of his prize pumpkins, and the woman who felt a motherly attachment to hers and surrounded her special baby with hundreds of mousetraps in a "circle of death" to the tiny predators. There is plenty of drama, too, as after all that work, sometimes bathing the pumpkin fruit with milk baths and gently attending to its daily needs, the pumpkins could explode. That sounds like a nail biting scenario, if there ever was one.

I guess where we more laissez faire gardeners of lesser competitive spirit can identify with our giant pumpkin growing cousins is in the attachment and joy we feel in the endeavor of growing something well. The challenges of understanding the plant world, the mind expanding efforts of overcoming natures challenges and unlocking her secrets.... it is something all of us in this gardening society share. Might we be a thread away from such obsession?

That was something of the scary part of this. It was all there, the drama, the conflict, and the triumph... and the love of growing things.

The competition in Cooperstown was held in early October.

Just a Word On Autumn

2009-10-24T13:05:00.003-04:00

Yesterday as I went abroad for supplies to round out my little family party, I was struck by the way the height of Autumn had visited so suddenly. It had been announcing itself for weeks, as my photos have tried to capture, but as rain moved in and I traveled to the more protected spaces of the city my eyes were almost assaulted by the orange, gold, and scarlets of the trees and bushes.

I hurried by in the confines of the car, but wanted so much to drink up and be drunk with the color of the moment. I find my weakness is gluttony of beauty, especially the ephemeral seasonal beauty. Greedy for each view, wanting to hoard it in my mind, as if it were not the manna that it is ... not something to be kept beyond the experience of the particular day.

Perhaps the leaves were all the brighter for the gray skies and dreary drizzle which misted down. The leaves are fast falling now from the trees, and I expect we will soon be greeted by November's aspect which seems to be prematurely advancing this year.

As fine as photography is, even the most professional cannot fully capture the experience of a Midwestern, not to mention New England, fall color display. There is a certain reverberation which the October atmosphere fairly shimmers with, that is picked up by the sense and not captured in film. Maybe it is the additional layers of autumn scent, I can't say what goes into this intoxicating brew, but I know this is the reason so many of us love autumns.

On a side note: I couldn't help but pick up some last minute mums that were on sale- more for the blooms in the next year, than for any hope of this year's garden. Nothing accentuates the burst of tree colors like the chrysanthemum; but nothing rivals them, and the mums can only play second fiddle no matter how hard they vie for attention. The trees are fully regal queens and divas in this season, while merely background or supporting players in other times of year.

I love trees. And Autumn is their finest hour.

More Fairy Houses

2009-10-24T12:35:00.001-04:00

clipped from cindeesgarden.blogspot.com

My Autumn #2

2009-10-22T22:59:00.005-04:00

After some frosts and cooler weather the leaves have turned and my yard has more color. The hostas are especially bright, and surprisingly the foliage of the lily of the valley are also a bright yellow.

~~~//~~~
I suppose I should follow through and identify the pictures :)

Upper left is a picture of a self seeded maple from the container of another plant. I had bought it in fall and the color was pretty, my dog had died and so it is planted over the bones of Old Fritz. A good dog who liked to help "herd" the chickens back into the chicken coop. It is probably a Red Maple.

Second down is the shiny red crabapple fruit of Malus sp. 'Prairiefire'

Next down is the foliage of the Kousa dogwood, a burnished, soft red.

Last in the row is my driveway planting. 'Diablo' physocarpus far left, sedum variegatum turned a pale yellow above that is moss phlox which becomes golden tinged, the euphorbia 'Bonfire',dianthus gray leaves, and the blue of the Blue Star Juniper.

Top next row:
Sweet Gum showing more color now, although the same sort of tree in the foreground is still mostly green.

Next down is a small Kousa framed by an arbor and maple tree.

Third down is the goldflame spirea- which turns a pretty range of pinkish coral through a hue of red.

Bottom is a view of various maples with globe arborvitae hedge in the foreground.

Third row from left, top:
Annabelle hydrangea which has rustic tints.

A frost blasted hosta is next down.

Third down in the row is a view through the yellow leaves of the mock orange, with a spot of the golden hosta foliage.

Bottom of that row is the good color of the 'Hansa' Rugosa rose.

Top of the next row: melange of maples.

The yellow colors of Amelanchier canadensis, a shrubby little plant that holds its foliage longer than its cousin, laevis, which has lost its leaves already. It never really grew very large.

Larger view of the mock orange sandwished between the V. burkwoodii, which has no real fall color, and the dull lilac.

At bottom are the silver maples sporting yellow.

Last row right top:
Leftover asters, but most are blasted by the frosts.

Second down, the 'Royal Standard' hostas around the tree.

Third down is the golden yellow of the lily of the valley foliage and the feverfew which blooms for a very long time here.

Next down is the hydrangea 'Tardiva' in goldenrod tints. and last, another view of it against the background of the Sweet Gum.

My Autumn #1

2009-10-21T12:47:00.003-04:00

This is a pictorial of my autumn landscape from after the first cool days, but before the first hard frost. To know more of the plants... as they say, read on.

The berries of the top left are from Viburnum carlesii, my favorite viburnum I think. My fav today, anyway. The berries below are the weed, Pokeweed. Top far right, is the Euphorbia "Bonfire", gorgeous in all seasons, but especially in fall.
Top middle are new plantings of "Jack Frost" Brunnera with Foxglove, and the Michaelmas daisies after they have been jack frosted for the first time which withers but does not completely destroy the flower color. Our good wood supply for what portends to be a mighty cold winter. Below which you see to the left the always lovely "Endless Summer" hydrangea- autumn tints of the most beautiful rose; and the sweet gum tree (Liquidambar styraciflua -fact PDF) just coming into color.

The fringe tree to the right is showing a tinge of color, it is in its golden yellow phase only now. Then larger view from different angle with a leftover calendula which likes to bloom up until hard frosts fell it. Next, a view of the new "Morning Light" miscanthus against the spreading taxus , under the "Prairiefire" crab, which didn't fruit as well this year. ending with a view of the blue spruce which will remain that ghostly bluegray throughout the winter season.

Trees I Grow

2009-10-21T02:22:00.001-04:00

[originally posted 10/19/07]

When I moved to my place here in the country, there were precious few trees on the property. Back in the seventies the farmers had determinedly cleared the land for more production. Obscene production I call it, but anyway... I decided first off to plant more trees.

What I didn't know was how difficult it would be, but now many years down the line I have some that survived and they have changed the landscape here. Different birds, changed light conditions, different garden chores are a few of those changes.

Here are some of the deciduous trees growing within my yard:

Silver Maples: I didn't plant these, and I don't like silver maples very much, but they are fast growers and people of the past seem to have loved them, because there are plenty throughout the territory around here. These are the largest and oldest trees on the property. Clear yellow fall color.

Red Maples: I have one large one that was here and planted some on the back part of the property, they are similar to the silvers in some ways, but a little more elegant in growth and with cherry red autumn color. That is their one fine virtue.

Norway Maple: grown in the ash grove. These are graceful, deep green foliaged trees. I wouldn't put them in a garden area because their greedy roots make life hell for perennials, but they are very nice out in the field or by the street. Gold fall color.

Scarlett Oak: one of the first trees I planted, it is a very slow grower, but I appreciate it because it is an oak, one of my favorite trees. I plant oaks for posterity.

Burr Oak: one small one I planted and one larger one that grew from cast off acorns from the old tree the former owner felled. I don't get to see my own trees much because they are in out of the way places in the yard, but these are the native trees to this area and they grow into great, craggy, gorgeous trees -eventually. I enjoy viewing the Savannah-like plantations that grow on some of the farms around here. I am saddened when I see how many die and are cut down.

Green Ash: someday down the road the Emerald Ash borer is going to get them, but these are the trees that survived the drought conditions under which I tried to plant many small trees many years ago. They are about fifteen years old and grow in a grove on the back corner of the property. I would be happy about them except for the Damocles sword of those borers... Yellow fall color and fast growers.

Mulberries: again, they were here. They grow just like weeds, seeding themselves everywhere. The most charitable thing I can say is that they attract birds away from the cherries. That is the plan, anyway.

Fruit trees: some of the first I planted, the Sweet cherries have lasted longer than the sour ones. I lost two of those in the past few years, and the peaches have been short lived here. Apples do well, and I have a few antique varieties, and two that grew from seedlings. One lone pear tree which is unhappy since I allowed the grape vines to grow over it.

Red bud trees: these are fairly new plantings, but have done very well and the ones by the evergreens look truly beautiful in spring.

Chinese dogwoods: surviving, but not thriving. these are lovely trees, which are supposed to bloom eventually. They need more acid pH and moisture than they get in my garden. As is true of the regular dogwood I grow. That is suffering, as well, but blooms well. Even if it hadn't been a hard year for trees these past few seasons, the dogwoods would still struggle without help from ironrite and watering frequently.

Fringe trees:most of these are doing well, but the one exposed to the farmers chemicals looks almost done for. They like my garden and bloom beautifully. Fall color is clear golden yellow with little gray blue olive shaped berries.

Amelanchier: I grow two types, and they bloom well in spring. Some years they have loads of berries, which don't taste like much to us, but the birds like them. Usually a gorgeous mesh of orangey-red in the fall.

Sycamore: I have one that I planted in the back part of the property. It grew large quite fast and is a very fine rural garden tree. Yellow fall color.

Crabapples: wonderful trees for my garden, even if they suffer a bit from leaf drop in the summer. The flowers in spring, and the good form of the trees make these my favorite ornamental tree. I grow several types, Prairie fire and Snowdrift, weeping Red Jade. Golden fall color, beautiful persistent red fruits.

Contorted filbert: I love these trees, I have two, and they are the best thing for the winter landscape. They do have water sprouts and the new influx of the Japanese beetle plague have skeletonized the leaves, but no matter what, I would grow them. Their green catkins in spring, and their twisted curly twigs make them artistic and attractive.

Weeping willow: I planted these much to the consternation of my neighbor, but I love their sweeping willow withes :) I know they are weak trees, I know they invade drain systems, but I like them. This is a tree I planted only in recent years- the growth was phenomenal. Pale yellow fall color.