Monday Morning Garden Report: 16 December 2019
IN THE SUMMER OF 2014, the first summer I worked in the Alumni House Garden, I created a map of the garden, dividing the space into 15 perennial flower beds, each labeled alphabetically in a counter-clockwise circuit, beginning with the SW gate (the A1 & A2 beds) and ending at the NW gate (the M1 & M2 beds). A digital version of that map is posted to this website on the map page. That summer I also created hand-drawn maps of each bed, labeling the locations of the perennial flowers, shrubs, and trees–and trying as best I could to identify the name of each plant. While some plants were known previously or were relatively easy to identify, others acquired provisional labels without my knowing their precise identity (such as several viburnum). Over the years I have periodically modified those hastily sketched bedding maps as I removed, transplanted, or added plants, but the maps were becoming increasingly messy, incomplete, and difficult to read. I decided this winter was the time for creating a reasonably accurate map of each bed, with precise scientific names for plants and cultivars I could identify with reasonable certainty.
At the end of this report is a link to the second draft of the “F” bed map that I revised this morning. I still have several unsolved mapping issues. For example, I’m unsure about the best way for labeling unidentified cultivars and self-seeding annuals, and I continue experimenting with different graphics that will prove visually effective when saved as a pdf. But I’m optimistic the basic template developed for the “F” bed will prove sufficiently adaptable for the other beds. It frustrates me that I’ve not done a better job of identifying plants that were already in the garden when I arrived in 2014–such as the perennial sunflowers that play such a major role in the “F” bed during the summer months–but what I don’t know about the garden will always far exceed the scraps of knowledge I have managed to acquire.
One other function of these maps is to help prepare a comprehensive list of all the garden’s plant species and cultivars. Occasionally visitors will ask how many different flowers are in the garden, and I now respond with an “about 350,” but that's just a guess. I do know there are over 40 daylily cultivars and a comparable number of different spring bulbs (daffodils, crocus, tulips, etc), so I suspect the 350 will prove to be a conservative estimate. Of course, the perennial beds are always evolving with new flowers being introduced while older inhabitants fail to survive the demands of a winter, summer, drought, parasite invasion, etc. But I hope that by the spring of 2020 the maps and the comprehensive plant list will be reasonably complete and will prove helpful in implementing further transformations of the garden in the years to come. ~Bob
IN THE SUMMER OF 2014, the first summer I worked in the Alumni House Garden, I created a map of the garden, dividing the space into 15 perennial flower beds, each labeled alphabetically in a counter-clockwise circuit, beginning with the SW gate (the A1 & A2 beds) and ending at the NW gate (the M1 & M2 beds). A digital version of that map is posted to this website on the map page. That summer I also created hand-drawn maps of each bed, labeling the locations of the perennial flowers, shrubs, and trees–and trying as best I could to identify the name of each plant. While some plants were known previously or were relatively easy to identify, others acquired provisional labels without my knowing their precise identity (such as several viburnum). Over the years I have periodically modified those hastily sketched bedding maps as I removed, transplanted, or added plants, but the maps were becoming increasingly messy, incomplete, and difficult to read. I decided this winter was the time for creating a reasonably accurate map of each bed, with precise scientific names for plants and cultivars I could identify with reasonable certainty.
At the end of this report is a link to the second draft of the “F” bed map that I revised this morning. I still have several unsolved mapping issues. For example, I’m unsure about the best way for labeling unidentified cultivars and self-seeding annuals, and I continue experimenting with different graphics that will prove visually effective when saved as a pdf. But I’m optimistic the basic template developed for the “F” bed will prove sufficiently adaptable for the other beds. It frustrates me that I’ve not done a better job of identifying plants that were already in the garden when I arrived in 2014–such as the perennial sunflowers that play such a major role in the “F” bed during the summer months–but what I don’t know about the garden will always far exceed the scraps of knowledge I have managed to acquire.
One other function of these maps is to help prepare a comprehensive list of all the garden’s plant species and cultivars. Occasionally visitors will ask how many different flowers are in the garden, and I now respond with an “about 350,” but that's just a guess. I do know there are over 40 daylily cultivars and a comparable number of different spring bulbs (daffodils, crocus, tulips, etc), so I suspect the 350 will prove to be a conservative estimate. Of course, the perennial beds are always evolving with new flowers being introduced while older inhabitants fail to survive the demands of a winter, summer, drought, parasite invasion, etc. But I hope that by the spring of 2020 the maps and the comprehensive plant list will be reasonably complete and will prove helpful in implementing further transformations of the garden in the years to come. ~Bob
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Monday Morning Garden Report: 9 December 2019
This past week was a godsend: sunshine, pleasant temperatures (into the 40's every day), no rain or snow. After some frigid, challenging weather earlier in November, I finally had a week conducive for planting the bulbs languishing in the greenhouse the past month. Here are brief introductions to the 900+ bulbs (and corms) planted at Coe since Thanksgiving. The snowflake bulbs (Leucojum aestivum) were put into the soil late this morning, an hour before the temperature dropped below freezing and it started to snow.
• 100 Blushing Lady Tulips, 100 Emperor Mixture Tulips, and 100 Ice Stick Tulips. The Blushing Lady tulips performed wonderfully in the “E” bed last spring, and I decided to order 100 replacements for this coming spring. In planting the tulips, I dug up 30-40 Blushing Ladies that had produced new bulbs–although these offspring were notably smaller than those purchased from Van Engelen (the source for most of the bulbs planted this fall). All the on-site offspring I uncovered were transferred to a small tulip area in the “A1" bed. As for the Emperor Mix, they were assigned to the three “J” beds on the other side of the fountain. The Ice Stick Tulips were then planted at the front of the middle “J” bed–where last year I planted 50 species tulips. I had hoped those smaller tulips would become naturalizers, but in digging up that bed, I could find no evidence any had survived through the summer.
• 110 Camassia Bulbs. I had not previously planted camassia bulbs, but their blue, six-petaled flowers (with notable yellow anthers) looked irresistible in several catalogs, and I decided to introduce these U.S. native lilies (Pacific Northwest) to the Coe garden. Unlike the other bulbs I planted this fall, camassia like to reside in soil that remains moist through the summer, and so I chose several areas at the east end of the garden that are the least likely to dry out during dry stretches. Common names for this flower include Wild Hyacinth, Camass, Quamash, and Leichtlin’s Camass. I suspect I first heard of the Camass plant when reading about the Lewis and Clark search for the Northwest Passage. When their expedition managed to reach what is now Idaho, the absence of a ready supply of meat led them to gorge themselves on salmon and camass root–which resulted in severe nausea, stomach cramps, and diarrhea. Eventually their stomachs became accustomed to this high fiber diet and they found the roots reasonably appealing, but I have no plans to try eating any of these bulbs.
• 100 Crocus Chrysanthus Goldilocks. Most of these “snow crocus” were planted in the “B” beds in front of the patio. These eastern Mediterranean natives (Greece, Bulgaria, Turkey) should be an early bloomer, adhering to a schedule comparable to a snowdrop. The Van Engelen catalog shows dark yellow flowers with purplish-brown feathering.
• 5 Fritillaria Imperialis Maxima Lutea and 5 Fritillaria Imperialis Rubra Maxima. Last fall I planted five “Rubra Maxima” at the east end of the “I” bed, and they put on a superb display in April. So last week we added ten more of these large fritillaria, the “Rubra Maxima” in front of the gazebo and the “Maxima Lutea” near the middle of the “I” bed. The “Rubra Maxima” is an old variety, first appearing in flower gardens in the late 16th century. They have a strong, upright 2' tall stem crowned by a cluster of bell-shaped, reddish-orange flowers. While they don’t have a pleasant odor, they are stunning to look at it. The “Maxima Lutea” blossoms are a bright yellow, but otherwise appear to be similar to the “Rubra Maxima.” Because these bulbs are quite large and require soil with excellent drainage, I first removed several gallons of soil and created a special mix of soil, compost, and vermiculite–hoping to create an amenable environment for their long term survival.
• 25 Galanthus Nivalis Flore Pleno. Perhaps 25 years ago I planted some Galanthus Snowdrops in my backyard, and every February–without fail–they suddenly push through the snow and leaf mulch with their tiny green leaves and white flowers. The Galanthus nivalis is a bulbous perennial, native to Europe and southwestern Asia. Its common name, snowdrop, refers to appearance of the flower, which looks like a dollop of snow poised a couple inches above the ground. Each waxy, bell-shaped flower has three outer tepals and three shorter inner tepals with small green dots–which may function as “nectar guides” and also contribute some photosynthesis. The genus name derives from the Greek words for milk (gala) and flower (anthos).
• 150 Glory of the Snow (Chiondoxoa). This is another early bloomer whose flowers and foliage will have disappeared before many spring plants make their initial appearance. Most of these small bulbs were planted along the front of the borders near the patio. They have a reputation as being good naturalizers in the right conditions. If the species crocus planted in the two eastern lawn areas last fall do not do well, I might experiment with these Chiondoxoa.
• 100 Iris histrioides ‘Katharine Hodgkin’. Last fall I planted 25 reticulated iris in the crevice garden, and they produced some extraordinary early spring flowers (see photo at the end of this report). This fall, I decided to add 100 more of a similar iris cultivar in several locations, including another portion of the crevice garden. This required digging up a dense colony of bloody cranesbill. While I failed to remove all the cranesbill root system, perhaps the area is sufficiently cleared so these iris have a fighting chance to survive. Another group of these iris was planted in the gazebo sundial’s flower bed. The ‘Katherine Hodgkin” iris is a hybrid, first introduced in 1958, whose parents are an Iris winogradowii and an Iris histrioides. According to the Missouri Botanical Garden website (for me, an invaluable online resource), this iris should produce pale blue flowers with distinctive deep blue veining and a purple-spotted yellow blotch at the base of each fall (sepal).
• 25 Narcissus Avalon. I had intended to plant these in an area near the rain garden where I suspected the narcissus planted last fall had not survived, but after encountering bulbs in several test holes, I changed my plans and planted most of these narcissus in two fake whiskey barrels that house dwarf ribbon grass in the “H” bed. The Avalon cultivar is the result of a cross between Camelot and Daydream narcissus. According to the Van Engelen catalog, its cylindrical cups open up as a brilliant yellow and then mature into a milky-white with a lemon-yellow perianth.
• 100 Snowflake Bulbs (Leucojum aestivum). Three years ago I planted about 25 Leucojum behind the NW park bench and left them to do their thing. Every year they produce these drooping white flowers with a tiny green dot at the end of the three sepals and three tepals. Last week I added a dozen new snowflakes to that group and planted four snowflake groups in the hosta bed behind the SW bench. I also planted two groups of snow flakes on the south side of the dwarf lilac bush in the “H” bed.
~Bob Marrs, Alumni House Gardener
This past week was a godsend: sunshine, pleasant temperatures (into the 40's every day), no rain or snow. After some frigid, challenging weather earlier in November, I finally had a week conducive for planting the bulbs languishing in the greenhouse the past month. Here are brief introductions to the 900+ bulbs (and corms) planted at Coe since Thanksgiving. The snowflake bulbs (Leucojum aestivum) were put into the soil late this morning, an hour before the temperature dropped below freezing and it started to snow.
• 100 Blushing Lady Tulips, 100 Emperor Mixture Tulips, and 100 Ice Stick Tulips. The Blushing Lady tulips performed wonderfully in the “E” bed last spring, and I decided to order 100 replacements for this coming spring. In planting the tulips, I dug up 30-40 Blushing Ladies that had produced new bulbs–although these offspring were notably smaller than those purchased from Van Engelen (the source for most of the bulbs planted this fall). All the on-site offspring I uncovered were transferred to a small tulip area in the “A1" bed. As for the Emperor Mix, they were assigned to the three “J” beds on the other side of the fountain. The Ice Stick Tulips were then planted at the front of the middle “J” bed–where last year I planted 50 species tulips. I had hoped those smaller tulips would become naturalizers, but in digging up that bed, I could find no evidence any had survived through the summer.
• 110 Camassia Bulbs. I had not previously planted camassia bulbs, but their blue, six-petaled flowers (with notable yellow anthers) looked irresistible in several catalogs, and I decided to introduce these U.S. native lilies (Pacific Northwest) to the Coe garden. Unlike the other bulbs I planted this fall, camassia like to reside in soil that remains moist through the summer, and so I chose several areas at the east end of the garden that are the least likely to dry out during dry stretches. Common names for this flower include Wild Hyacinth, Camass, Quamash, and Leichtlin’s Camass. I suspect I first heard of the Camass plant when reading about the Lewis and Clark search for the Northwest Passage. When their expedition managed to reach what is now Idaho, the absence of a ready supply of meat led them to gorge themselves on salmon and camass root–which resulted in severe nausea, stomach cramps, and diarrhea. Eventually their stomachs became accustomed to this high fiber diet and they found the roots reasonably appealing, but I have no plans to try eating any of these bulbs.
• 100 Crocus Chrysanthus Goldilocks. Most of these “snow crocus” were planted in the “B” beds in front of the patio. These eastern Mediterranean natives (Greece, Bulgaria, Turkey) should be an early bloomer, adhering to a schedule comparable to a snowdrop. The Van Engelen catalog shows dark yellow flowers with purplish-brown feathering.
• 5 Fritillaria Imperialis Maxima Lutea and 5 Fritillaria Imperialis Rubra Maxima. Last fall I planted five “Rubra Maxima” at the east end of the “I” bed, and they put on a superb display in April. So last week we added ten more of these large fritillaria, the “Rubra Maxima” in front of the gazebo and the “Maxima Lutea” near the middle of the “I” bed. The “Rubra Maxima” is an old variety, first appearing in flower gardens in the late 16th century. They have a strong, upright 2' tall stem crowned by a cluster of bell-shaped, reddish-orange flowers. While they don’t have a pleasant odor, they are stunning to look at it. The “Maxima Lutea” blossoms are a bright yellow, but otherwise appear to be similar to the “Rubra Maxima.” Because these bulbs are quite large and require soil with excellent drainage, I first removed several gallons of soil and created a special mix of soil, compost, and vermiculite–hoping to create an amenable environment for their long term survival.
• 25 Galanthus Nivalis Flore Pleno. Perhaps 25 years ago I planted some Galanthus Snowdrops in my backyard, and every February–without fail–they suddenly push through the snow and leaf mulch with their tiny green leaves and white flowers. The Galanthus nivalis is a bulbous perennial, native to Europe and southwestern Asia. Its common name, snowdrop, refers to appearance of the flower, which looks like a dollop of snow poised a couple inches above the ground. Each waxy, bell-shaped flower has three outer tepals and three shorter inner tepals with small green dots–which may function as “nectar guides” and also contribute some photosynthesis. The genus name derives from the Greek words for milk (gala) and flower (anthos).
• 150 Glory of the Snow (Chiondoxoa). This is another early bloomer whose flowers and foliage will have disappeared before many spring plants make their initial appearance. Most of these small bulbs were planted along the front of the borders near the patio. They have a reputation as being good naturalizers in the right conditions. If the species crocus planted in the two eastern lawn areas last fall do not do well, I might experiment with these Chiondoxoa.
• 100 Iris histrioides ‘Katharine Hodgkin’. Last fall I planted 25 reticulated iris in the crevice garden, and they produced some extraordinary early spring flowers (see photo at the end of this report). This fall, I decided to add 100 more of a similar iris cultivar in several locations, including another portion of the crevice garden. This required digging up a dense colony of bloody cranesbill. While I failed to remove all the cranesbill root system, perhaps the area is sufficiently cleared so these iris have a fighting chance to survive. Another group of these iris was planted in the gazebo sundial’s flower bed. The ‘Katherine Hodgkin” iris is a hybrid, first introduced in 1958, whose parents are an Iris winogradowii and an Iris histrioides. According to the Missouri Botanical Garden website (for me, an invaluable online resource), this iris should produce pale blue flowers with distinctive deep blue veining and a purple-spotted yellow blotch at the base of each fall (sepal).
• 25 Narcissus Avalon. I had intended to plant these in an area near the rain garden where I suspected the narcissus planted last fall had not survived, but after encountering bulbs in several test holes, I changed my plans and planted most of these narcissus in two fake whiskey barrels that house dwarf ribbon grass in the “H” bed. The Avalon cultivar is the result of a cross between Camelot and Daydream narcissus. According to the Van Engelen catalog, its cylindrical cups open up as a brilliant yellow and then mature into a milky-white with a lemon-yellow perianth.
• 100 Snowflake Bulbs (Leucojum aestivum). Three years ago I planted about 25 Leucojum behind the NW park bench and left them to do their thing. Every year they produce these drooping white flowers with a tiny green dot at the end of the three sepals and three tepals. Last week I added a dozen new snowflakes to that group and planted four snowflake groups in the hosta bed behind the SW bench. I also planted two groups of snow flakes on the south side of the dwarf lilac bush in the “H” bed.
~Bob Marrs, Alumni House Gardener
Monday Morning Garden Report: 28 October 2019
THIS IS THE FIRST MONDAY back in the garden after a three-week trip to Europe, which included a week visiting English gardens in and around London. Interesting to return to one’s own efforts to maintain an English-style garden after observing the formal gardens at Osterley Park, Ham House, Fenton House, and Regent’s Park. In many respects an inspiring trip, and perhaps I will find ways to integrate aspects of those gardens into our little garden at Coe.
As for this last Monday in October, the weather was overcast, temp in the low 40s, with a forecast for rain and snow. The initial appearance of the garden resembles how things looked on October 7, the last day I was here. The garden is still dominated by fall foliage, but we now have the added bonus of the garden’s eastern shore framed by the city streets’ maple and ash trees in full autumn colors. I’m pleasantly surprised the fountain is still operating. Perhaps the Administration wanted to keep it bubbling for the Homecoming visitors the past weekend. The most notable changes derive from the recent cold temperatures: the dahlias have all frozen, eliminating all the blooms in the “E” and “J” beds. Other frozen plants include the zinnias, the coleus in the large flower pots behind the SW & NW park benches, the four o’clocks around the gazebo’s sundial, the cleomes in the crevice garden, and the basil in the herb garden.
Despite the initial impression of a garden finished for the year, my morning exploration around the garden reveals many pleasant surprises, discovering a few diamonds that could be easily overlooked.
• White Anemones, the ‘Andrea Atkinson’ cultivar. These were new arrivals in the spring, and their mid-fall blooms are a great addition. They immediately brought to mind a moment from two weeks ago, walking by a church in the city of Koblenz, and we came upon several flower beds resplendent with white anemones–either the same variety we have at Coe or a darn close impersonator. My immediate plan is to add more of these anemones in the spring, now that I have first-hand evidence of their potential contribution to a late-season flower bed.
• Mums. After adding three new mum plants last spring and re-positioning several old mums in the “I” bed, we have the best collection of blooming mums since I started working in the garden in 2014 (see photo at the end of this report).
• Freshly mown lawn. A student garden assistant had mowed the lawn just before my return, inspiring another recollection of my recent trip. This memory involved standing at the back of Ham House, in the outskirts of London, looking at a formal garden that in the 17th century had been 8 flat rectangles of carefully groomed green grass. In an era when all grass had to be cut by hand, using scythes, it was considered a notable achievement to have such large, manicured planes of green grass. Although we now have the benefit of highly efficient mowers, I feel a similar pleasure looking at our green lawn, divided into four similarly balanced rectangles of grass. Hard to believe that 13 months ago, none of this grass was here: it was soil, dead thatch, and wood chips.
• The tall ornamental grasses are now in their prime. I am surprised at the height of the seed heads in the zebra miscanthus planted in the “C” bed four years ago. Fortunately the clump of foliage has remained relatively restrained. This past summer I planted a second zebra in a comparable position in the “L” bed. I’m wondering how well they will complement each other in 2-3 years.
• Daisies and Honeysuckle. A pleasure to see a few of the ox-eye daisies under the pergola are blooming, and there is a single daisy I planted in 2014 in the “F” bed that has a clump of white blooms. At the other end of the garden, the honeysuckle has finally started to bloom. The honeysuckle received no regular pruning this summer, and it put all of its energies into sending out new vines and not producing any flowers.
• Loners. Throughout the garden I came across single blooms, last-minute efforts to entice a stray pollinator to come by for a final meal. The ‘Candy Stripe’ creeping phlox in the crevice garden has a single bloom, and I found a single pink bloom rising out of a creeping phlox in the “K” bed. Most of the cranesbill are content with their reddish-green mounds of foliage, but I encountered several bloody cranesbill blooms (and, of course, there are the Rozanne cranesbill plants still loaded with their chorus of blue flowers). Other lone bloomers include a few individual blossoms on the Stella D’oro daylilies (the plants cut back after their first bloom cycle), a couple of cobalt-blue blooms on the annual Crystal Palace lobelia, a young Joe Pye weed, a most unexpected clump of blooms on the garden’s lone dame rocket, and several calendula that are continuing to produce their edible yellow blossoms.
• The toad lilies in three different shaded beds are still looking good: a new group planted last spring in the “A2”bed; a second new group in the “G” bed (near the wind chimes), and the old established group in the “L” bed (along the stepping stone path at the north end of the bed). The blooms of these members of the genus Tricyrtis look like they could be products of an exotic orchid, but they have proven to be hardy, easy to grow, amenable to different locations, requiring minimal attention, and producing blooms lasting 2-3 months. Because the flowers are relatively small and close to the ground, I suspect most garden visitors never notice them.
• Fresh foliage. Every year I’m surprised by how much fresh foliage appears in the fall, plants demonstrating their confidence in the return of warm weather. The two patches of grape hyacinths are now covered with fresh green leaves and the dark burgundy foliage of the Husker Red and Dark Towers penstemons has bounced back from its summer doldrums. Most of the tall stonecrop and spurge in the “C” and “L” beds already have new clumps of tightly wound leaves appearing at their base. The foliage of the snow-in-summer also looks revitalized, apparently eager to engage with the snow in the winter months. Several patches of lady’s mantle (a flower found in virtually every English garden) are covered with fresh foliage, accented by exquisitely formed water beads, resting quietly on the furrowed, mint-green leaves.
THIS IS THE FIRST MONDAY back in the garden after a three-week trip to Europe, which included a week visiting English gardens in and around London. Interesting to return to one’s own efforts to maintain an English-style garden after observing the formal gardens at Osterley Park, Ham House, Fenton House, and Regent’s Park. In many respects an inspiring trip, and perhaps I will find ways to integrate aspects of those gardens into our little garden at Coe.
As for this last Monday in October, the weather was overcast, temp in the low 40s, with a forecast for rain and snow. The initial appearance of the garden resembles how things looked on October 7, the last day I was here. The garden is still dominated by fall foliage, but we now have the added bonus of the garden’s eastern shore framed by the city streets’ maple and ash trees in full autumn colors. I’m pleasantly surprised the fountain is still operating. Perhaps the Administration wanted to keep it bubbling for the Homecoming visitors the past weekend. The most notable changes derive from the recent cold temperatures: the dahlias have all frozen, eliminating all the blooms in the “E” and “J” beds. Other frozen plants include the zinnias, the coleus in the large flower pots behind the SW & NW park benches, the four o’clocks around the gazebo’s sundial, the cleomes in the crevice garden, and the basil in the herb garden.
Despite the initial impression of a garden finished for the year, my morning exploration around the garden reveals many pleasant surprises, discovering a few diamonds that could be easily overlooked.
• White Anemones, the ‘Andrea Atkinson’ cultivar. These were new arrivals in the spring, and their mid-fall blooms are a great addition. They immediately brought to mind a moment from two weeks ago, walking by a church in the city of Koblenz, and we came upon several flower beds resplendent with white anemones–either the same variety we have at Coe or a darn close impersonator. My immediate plan is to add more of these anemones in the spring, now that I have first-hand evidence of their potential contribution to a late-season flower bed.
• Mums. After adding three new mum plants last spring and re-positioning several old mums in the “I” bed, we have the best collection of blooming mums since I started working in the garden in 2014 (see photo at the end of this report).
• Freshly mown lawn. A student garden assistant had mowed the lawn just before my return, inspiring another recollection of my recent trip. This memory involved standing at the back of Ham House, in the outskirts of London, looking at a formal garden that in the 17th century had been 8 flat rectangles of carefully groomed green grass. In an era when all grass had to be cut by hand, using scythes, it was considered a notable achievement to have such large, manicured planes of green grass. Although we now have the benefit of highly efficient mowers, I feel a similar pleasure looking at our green lawn, divided into four similarly balanced rectangles of grass. Hard to believe that 13 months ago, none of this grass was here: it was soil, dead thatch, and wood chips.
• The tall ornamental grasses are now in their prime. I am surprised at the height of the seed heads in the zebra miscanthus planted in the “C” bed four years ago. Fortunately the clump of foliage has remained relatively restrained. This past summer I planted a second zebra in a comparable position in the “L” bed. I’m wondering how well they will complement each other in 2-3 years.
• Daisies and Honeysuckle. A pleasure to see a few of the ox-eye daisies under the pergola are blooming, and there is a single daisy I planted in 2014 in the “F” bed that has a clump of white blooms. At the other end of the garden, the honeysuckle has finally started to bloom. The honeysuckle received no regular pruning this summer, and it put all of its energies into sending out new vines and not producing any flowers.
• Loners. Throughout the garden I came across single blooms, last-minute efforts to entice a stray pollinator to come by for a final meal. The ‘Candy Stripe’ creeping phlox in the crevice garden has a single bloom, and I found a single pink bloom rising out of a creeping phlox in the “K” bed. Most of the cranesbill are content with their reddish-green mounds of foliage, but I encountered several bloody cranesbill blooms (and, of course, there are the Rozanne cranesbill plants still loaded with their chorus of blue flowers). Other lone bloomers include a few individual blossoms on the Stella D’oro daylilies (the plants cut back after their first bloom cycle), a couple of cobalt-blue blooms on the annual Crystal Palace lobelia, a young Joe Pye weed, a most unexpected clump of blooms on the garden’s lone dame rocket, and several calendula that are continuing to produce their edible yellow blossoms.
• The toad lilies in three different shaded beds are still looking good: a new group planted last spring in the “A2”bed; a second new group in the “G” bed (near the wind chimes), and the old established group in the “L” bed (along the stepping stone path at the north end of the bed). The blooms of these members of the genus Tricyrtis look like they could be products of an exotic orchid, but they have proven to be hardy, easy to grow, amenable to different locations, requiring minimal attention, and producing blooms lasting 2-3 months. Because the flowers are relatively small and close to the ground, I suspect most garden visitors never notice them.
• Fresh foliage. Every year I’m surprised by how much fresh foliage appears in the fall, plants demonstrating their confidence in the return of warm weather. The two patches of grape hyacinths are now covered with fresh green leaves and the dark burgundy foliage of the Husker Red and Dark Towers penstemons has bounced back from its summer doldrums. Most of the tall stonecrop and spurge in the “C” and “L” beds already have new clumps of tightly wound leaves appearing at their base. The foliage of the snow-in-summer also looks revitalized, apparently eager to engage with the snow in the winter months. Several patches of lady’s mantle (a flower found in virtually every English garden) are covered with fresh foliage, accented by exquisitely formed water beads, resting quietly on the furrowed, mint-green leaves.
Monday Morning Garden Report: 23 September 2019
I BEGAN JOTTING DOWN THESE NOTES at 10:30 am on the 23rd of September; temperature was 61F; 89% humidity; sun shining; 2 ½ inches of rain collected in the rain gauge. One recent change in the garden has been the removal of the two “iron-ore red” benches in front of the patio. They have been replaced by two oiled, natural hardwood benches assembled this weekend. While I miss the splash of color provided by the old benches, they were both beginning to show their deterioration underneath the four coats of paint applied since their purchase in 2015. Earlier this year, the back of one bench split apart in two places, and last week I discovered the seat of the same bench was broken, making the bench unsafe and unusable. The new benches are much heavier and should be more durable.
The other major development has been the installation of the sculptor Cara Briggs Farmer's steel sundial behind the “J” dahlia bed, a sundial that tracks both hours of the day and seasonal changes (recording dates of solstices and equinoxes). The new sundial is an updated version of a wooden sundial installed two years ago. That model was made of plywood and proved quite accurate in its sun-tracking skills; however, the plywood–despite being covered in multiple layers of polyurethane–was unable to deal with Iowa’s extreme moisture and temperature seesaws. Its steel descendant should prove much hardier–as well as being a beautiful work of art. Its clean, curving profile reminds me of Utzon's Opera House in Sydney.
It has been several weeks since I took a tour of the garden while registering flowers in bloom. Here is a list of bloomers on this first day of autumn:
• Anemones: Last spring I planted several 'Andrea Tkinson' Anemones in the “A2" bed, and they are now producing large, beautiful white blossoms; the plan is to introduce more anemones in the spring and see if we can produce a solid block of white bloomers in that area by next fall.
• Asters: The New England asters are now at their peak, and the ones I cut back in July have produced large panoplies of blooms without falling over; despite use of plant supports, the aromatic asters are falling down in each of their three locations (beds “D”, “I”, and “K”); next July we’ll cut them back and ascertain if they will behave like their New England cousins.
• Black-Eyed Susans: They were the stars of the garden at the end of August; nearly all their blooms are finished except for a few diehards.
• Boltonia: The “false asters” in front of the mirror in the “E” bed produced a marvelous chorus of small blue blooms, but the plants have really been beaten down by the recent rains; two years ago they had plant supports and those need to be re-installed.
• Calendula: Somehow they have produced a sequence of bright yellow blooms through the summer and into the fall.
• Coreopsis: A few blooms on the perennial tickseeds, including the 'Route 66' in the “I” bed; also one large annual Plains Coreopsis in the Dahlia’s “J” bed that has begun producing marvelous little sunflower-like blooms.
• Cranesbill: The Rozanne cranesbill in the “F” bed has had a full head of lovely blue blooms all summer; the three new Rozannes planted this spring in the “D” and “H” beds are all growing, but we will need to wait until next year to see if they can keep pace with the “F” Rozanne.
• Dahlias: The Bishop of Llandaffs and the Kelvin Floodlights in the “E” bed are doing great, the Bishops producing dozens more blooms than they did last year; as for the dahlias in the “J” bed, the plants look healthy and are covered with buds, but the blooms have been slow to open; it’s evident I was a month late getting them into the ground.
• Daisies: Most of the ox-eye daisies in the “G” and “H” beds are simply functioning as a green, leafy ground cover, but there are a few white-petalled blooms here and there.
• Daylilies: Some Stella D’Oros–particularly the ones trimmed after their first bloom cycle–are sending up a few fresh flowers; no evidence of any other re-bloomers.
• Four O-Clocks: Wow, these re-seeders in the sundial flower-bed in front of the gazebo have really taken over, the plants covered with red and yellow flowers; because of the cool morning temp, the blooms were still open when I was walking around the garden this morning.
• Goldenrod: I’ve tried to keep most of the Canadian goldenrod confined to the east end of the garden (particularly in the “wild” area at the back of the “H” bed), but they are skilled self-seeders and keep popping up all over the place, often hiding in the New England asters; I like the native goldenrod, but if left to run rampant they would love to take over the garden, along with several of their Midwest pals: the asters, the Joe Pye Weeds, the snakeroots, the hyssops, the Queen Anne’s lace (not a native, like the others, but it certainly relishes this climate and soil).
• Honeysuckle: A few sweet-scented flowers on the NW gate honeysuckle, but a relatively small number of blooms this year; I need to clear an open space around the “trunks” of this honeysuckle so I can remove the suckers and convince the plant to focus on producing flowers.
• Hostas: I always forget how attractive are the late-season white flowers on several hosta varieties.
• Hyssop: Past their prime but still a few blue flower spikes throughout the garden, a favorite of the carpenter bees.
• Lobelia: The Crystal Palace Lobelia is in three beds (“H,” “J” and crevice garden) and still producing a few dark blue flowers; next year I plan to create larger lobelia patches–rather than relying on these small annuals as an occasional specimen flower to fill a gap in a larger bed.
• Mums: Their buds are just beginning to open, including some yellow-flowered mums moved last spring; they look much happier at the front of the “I” bed.
• Obedient Plants: Still a few lingering blooms; last September they produced streams of gorgeous blue flowers; this year their bloom cycle was more sporadic and shorter-lived; not sure what happened.
• Rugosa Roses: A few end-of-season blooms; I plan to severely cut back these old shrub roses in the “G” and “H” beds; both have a lot of dead branches.
• Russian Sage: The big Russian Sage in the “I” bed is hanging out over the gravel walkway and has been covered with its blue blossoms for two months; the group of smaller Russian Sage at the other end of the bed have struggled to survive; I should remove at least one of the daylilies so the Perovskia have less competition.
• Salvia azurea: I often overlook this plant in the “I” bed until its small blue blossoms appear on the scene; it does have a tendency to flop and I should consider pruning it in early July, at the same time that I cut back the asters and goldenrod.
• Snakeroot: Although a weed, this is another “wild” resident that I welcome in a few garden spots, such as a shady area in the “A2" bed.
• Spider Plants: These 4-5' tall fellows (also known by the charming name “Grandfather’s Whiskers”) are much too tall for the crevice garden, but that’s the only area where they’ve been willing to self-seed, and their blooms do provide a wonderful “welcome to the garden” greeting for anyone entering the NW gate; these Cleomes have been blooming for two months and should keep blooming until our first freeze.
• Spiderworts: I was surprised to see several blue Tradescantia blooms near the rain garden.
• Squash: I enriched the “E” dahlia bed this spring with a wheelbarrow load of compost, and apparently in that mix was a viable squash seed that has produced a vigorous squash plant mixed in with the Kelvin Floodlights; I would have pulled up the invader, but it has been producing some huge orange blooms that I find quite appealing.
• Stonecrops: Several varieties of tall stonecrops, all in diverse stages of blooming; I frequently drive along the Center Point road in Hiawatha and see a long row of stonecrops planted beside the recently rebuilt road; their toughness and long bloom cycle make them a sensible investment for such landscaping.
• Sunflowers: In 2015 I planted perennial sunflowers at the east end of the “A2" bed, and despite being in a damp, shady area, they have proven consistently productive; this last spring I planted a comparable group of sunflowers in a sunnier spot at the other side of the garden, and they have done even better, still offering bees a full blanket of blooms after the “A2" sunflowers have begun to fade.
• Toad Lilies: For three years we’ve had a small contingent of toad lilies in the “L” bed, hidden in a corner where they would rarely be seen by any visitors; last spring I doubled the size of that group and started two new patches in the “A2" and “G” beds; they have all been producing their exotic, orchid-like blooms since the middle of the summer, and in the spring I plan to add more of Tricyrtis formosana and T. hirta to those two new patches.
• Turtleheads: The turtleheads in the rain garden are steadily expanding the size of their fiefdom, and they don’t allow anything else to emerge among them–and in the process they produce an ascending series of these uniquely shaped pink blossoms that should last until it freezes.
• Verbena bonariensis: Perhaps my favorite self-seeder, but impossible for me to predict where they will appear; last year these South American immigrants were spread throughout the north rain garden channel; this year they moved west, popping up along the edge of the “G” bed’s gravel walkway–but several also appeared in the “J” dahlia bed.
• Zinnias: While we had a low germination rate for the zinnia seeds sown at the front of the “H” bed (where they have thrived in previous years), we had much better success with the zinnias sown in front of the newly installed sunflowers at the east end of the “M2" bed, their multi-colored blooms effortlessly complementing their sunflower partners.
At 11:00 am--noon according to God’s clock--I checked the new sundial. The autumnal equinox shadow was right on target (note the east and west ends of the middle plate's shadow in the photo below, taken at 11:01).
I BEGAN JOTTING DOWN THESE NOTES at 10:30 am on the 23rd of September; temperature was 61F; 89% humidity; sun shining; 2 ½ inches of rain collected in the rain gauge. One recent change in the garden has been the removal of the two “iron-ore red” benches in front of the patio. They have been replaced by two oiled, natural hardwood benches assembled this weekend. While I miss the splash of color provided by the old benches, they were both beginning to show their deterioration underneath the four coats of paint applied since their purchase in 2015. Earlier this year, the back of one bench split apart in two places, and last week I discovered the seat of the same bench was broken, making the bench unsafe and unusable. The new benches are much heavier and should be more durable.
The other major development has been the installation of the sculptor Cara Briggs Farmer's steel sundial behind the “J” dahlia bed, a sundial that tracks both hours of the day and seasonal changes (recording dates of solstices and equinoxes). The new sundial is an updated version of a wooden sundial installed two years ago. That model was made of plywood and proved quite accurate in its sun-tracking skills; however, the plywood–despite being covered in multiple layers of polyurethane–was unable to deal with Iowa’s extreme moisture and temperature seesaws. Its steel descendant should prove much hardier–as well as being a beautiful work of art. Its clean, curving profile reminds me of Utzon's Opera House in Sydney.
It has been several weeks since I took a tour of the garden while registering flowers in bloom. Here is a list of bloomers on this first day of autumn:
• Anemones: Last spring I planted several 'Andrea Tkinson' Anemones in the “A2" bed, and they are now producing large, beautiful white blossoms; the plan is to introduce more anemones in the spring and see if we can produce a solid block of white bloomers in that area by next fall.
• Asters: The New England asters are now at their peak, and the ones I cut back in July have produced large panoplies of blooms without falling over; despite use of plant supports, the aromatic asters are falling down in each of their three locations (beds “D”, “I”, and “K”); next July we’ll cut them back and ascertain if they will behave like their New England cousins.
• Black-Eyed Susans: They were the stars of the garden at the end of August; nearly all their blooms are finished except for a few diehards.
• Boltonia: The “false asters” in front of the mirror in the “E” bed produced a marvelous chorus of small blue blooms, but the plants have really been beaten down by the recent rains; two years ago they had plant supports and those need to be re-installed.
• Calendula: Somehow they have produced a sequence of bright yellow blooms through the summer and into the fall.
• Coreopsis: A few blooms on the perennial tickseeds, including the 'Route 66' in the “I” bed; also one large annual Plains Coreopsis in the Dahlia’s “J” bed that has begun producing marvelous little sunflower-like blooms.
• Cranesbill: The Rozanne cranesbill in the “F” bed has had a full head of lovely blue blooms all summer; the three new Rozannes planted this spring in the “D” and “H” beds are all growing, but we will need to wait until next year to see if they can keep pace with the “F” Rozanne.
• Dahlias: The Bishop of Llandaffs and the Kelvin Floodlights in the “E” bed are doing great, the Bishops producing dozens more blooms than they did last year; as for the dahlias in the “J” bed, the plants look healthy and are covered with buds, but the blooms have been slow to open; it’s evident I was a month late getting them into the ground.
• Daisies: Most of the ox-eye daisies in the “G” and “H” beds are simply functioning as a green, leafy ground cover, but there are a few white-petalled blooms here and there.
• Daylilies: Some Stella D’Oros–particularly the ones trimmed after their first bloom cycle–are sending up a few fresh flowers; no evidence of any other re-bloomers.
• Four O-Clocks: Wow, these re-seeders in the sundial flower-bed in front of the gazebo have really taken over, the plants covered with red and yellow flowers; because of the cool morning temp, the blooms were still open when I was walking around the garden this morning.
• Goldenrod: I’ve tried to keep most of the Canadian goldenrod confined to the east end of the garden (particularly in the “wild” area at the back of the “H” bed), but they are skilled self-seeders and keep popping up all over the place, often hiding in the New England asters; I like the native goldenrod, but if left to run rampant they would love to take over the garden, along with several of their Midwest pals: the asters, the Joe Pye Weeds, the snakeroots, the hyssops, the Queen Anne’s lace (not a native, like the others, but it certainly relishes this climate and soil).
• Honeysuckle: A few sweet-scented flowers on the NW gate honeysuckle, but a relatively small number of blooms this year; I need to clear an open space around the “trunks” of this honeysuckle so I can remove the suckers and convince the plant to focus on producing flowers.
• Hostas: I always forget how attractive are the late-season white flowers on several hosta varieties.
• Hyssop: Past their prime but still a few blue flower spikes throughout the garden, a favorite of the carpenter bees.
• Lobelia: The Crystal Palace Lobelia is in three beds (“H,” “J” and crevice garden) and still producing a few dark blue flowers; next year I plan to create larger lobelia patches–rather than relying on these small annuals as an occasional specimen flower to fill a gap in a larger bed.
• Mums: Their buds are just beginning to open, including some yellow-flowered mums moved last spring; they look much happier at the front of the “I” bed.
• Obedient Plants: Still a few lingering blooms; last September they produced streams of gorgeous blue flowers; this year their bloom cycle was more sporadic and shorter-lived; not sure what happened.
• Rugosa Roses: A few end-of-season blooms; I plan to severely cut back these old shrub roses in the “G” and “H” beds; both have a lot of dead branches.
• Russian Sage: The big Russian Sage in the “I” bed is hanging out over the gravel walkway and has been covered with its blue blossoms for two months; the group of smaller Russian Sage at the other end of the bed have struggled to survive; I should remove at least one of the daylilies so the Perovskia have less competition.
• Salvia azurea: I often overlook this plant in the “I” bed until its small blue blossoms appear on the scene; it does have a tendency to flop and I should consider pruning it in early July, at the same time that I cut back the asters and goldenrod.
• Snakeroot: Although a weed, this is another “wild” resident that I welcome in a few garden spots, such as a shady area in the “A2" bed.
• Spider Plants: These 4-5' tall fellows (also known by the charming name “Grandfather’s Whiskers”) are much too tall for the crevice garden, but that’s the only area where they’ve been willing to self-seed, and their blooms do provide a wonderful “welcome to the garden” greeting for anyone entering the NW gate; these Cleomes have been blooming for two months and should keep blooming until our first freeze.
• Spiderworts: I was surprised to see several blue Tradescantia blooms near the rain garden.
• Squash: I enriched the “E” dahlia bed this spring with a wheelbarrow load of compost, and apparently in that mix was a viable squash seed that has produced a vigorous squash plant mixed in with the Kelvin Floodlights; I would have pulled up the invader, but it has been producing some huge orange blooms that I find quite appealing.
• Stonecrops: Several varieties of tall stonecrops, all in diverse stages of blooming; I frequently drive along the Center Point road in Hiawatha and see a long row of stonecrops planted beside the recently rebuilt road; their toughness and long bloom cycle make them a sensible investment for such landscaping.
• Sunflowers: In 2015 I planted perennial sunflowers at the east end of the “A2" bed, and despite being in a damp, shady area, they have proven consistently productive; this last spring I planted a comparable group of sunflowers in a sunnier spot at the other side of the garden, and they have done even better, still offering bees a full blanket of blooms after the “A2" sunflowers have begun to fade.
• Toad Lilies: For three years we’ve had a small contingent of toad lilies in the “L” bed, hidden in a corner where they would rarely be seen by any visitors; last spring I doubled the size of that group and started two new patches in the “A2" and “G” beds; they have all been producing their exotic, orchid-like blooms since the middle of the summer, and in the spring I plan to add more of Tricyrtis formosana and T. hirta to those two new patches.
• Turtleheads: The turtleheads in the rain garden are steadily expanding the size of their fiefdom, and they don’t allow anything else to emerge among them–and in the process they produce an ascending series of these uniquely shaped pink blossoms that should last until it freezes.
• Verbena bonariensis: Perhaps my favorite self-seeder, but impossible for me to predict where they will appear; last year these South American immigrants were spread throughout the north rain garden channel; this year they moved west, popping up along the edge of the “G” bed’s gravel walkway–but several also appeared in the “J” dahlia bed.
• Zinnias: While we had a low germination rate for the zinnia seeds sown at the front of the “H” bed (where they have thrived in previous years), we had much better success with the zinnias sown in front of the newly installed sunflowers at the east end of the “M2" bed, their multi-colored blooms effortlessly complementing their sunflower partners.
At 11:00 am--noon according to God’s clock--I checked the new sundial. The autumnal equinox shadow was right on target (note the east and west ends of the middle plate's shadow in the photo below, taken at 11:01).
Monday Morning Garden Report: 19 August 2019
Beautiful morning; 1.8" in the rain gauge, arriving just in the nick of time. Unless we have some hot, dry, nasty weather in the next two weeks, we should make it into the fall without any wholesale watering. As for this morning’s garden walk, this will be a simple series of observations, following a counter-clockwise procession of perennial flower beds, beginning with the SW gate south of the patio.
“A” beds: The elderberries are bent over with purple fruit, soon to provide a few meals for visiting birds; in bloom are several hostas, snakeroots, hyssops, black-eyed Susans, butterfly bushes, Asclepias tuberosa, one goldenrod, a clump of Millennium allium (see their photo--taken in mid-July--at the end of this report) and a bank of perennial sunflowers; the leaves of several toad lilies planted this spring are sun-bleached (reacquainted with the sun after I cut back the lemon balm that had over-run the flower bed) but new growth suggests they will be okay.
“B” beds: Both B1 and B2 dominated by large mounds of bloody cranesbill foliage–no blooms, but that’s okay; the tall stonecrop now have new flower buds and the veronica I planted this spring continues to provide small blue and white blossoms.
“C” bed: All the daylilies are done except for a magnificent row of four Frans Hals daylilies with their large, vibrant orange and yellow petals.
“D” bed: Darn close to a classic-looking English garden perennial bed with a reasonably good balance of front, middle, and back border flowers in bloom or full foliage (most notably the lamb’s ears); plants currently in bloom include the tansy, Joe Pye weeds, goldenrod, purple coneflowers, a few cranesbill, one small Queen Anne’s lace (which needs to be removed before it goes to seed), and two varieties of stonecrop (the burgundy-leaved version has been blooming all summer); some post-bloomers need to be cut back (several clumps of daylilies and the Jerusalem cross), but overall the bed looks good (one exception being the desiccated astilbe at the west end of the bed; even with a fresh layer of mulch, their soil became too dry during this last dry spell).
“E” bed: The herbs have all done well: basil, sage, thyme, tarragon, fennel, chives, rue, lavender, both rosemary bushes; the large patch of calendula are in their third month of blooming, and the verbena we transplanted from the gravel walkway has all survived and begun to bloom; the bishop dahlias have begun to bloom and the first magnificent Kelvin Floodlight has just appeared.
“F” bed: In some respects similar to the “D” bed with prominent roles at the back of the border played by the tansy and two large Joe Pye weeds at each end of the bed; last week I cleaned up the area around the Baptisia and this bed now looks much cleaner; the bed’s original Rozanne cranesbill continues to produce its distinctive blue blooms; the white phlox have also been blooming for over a month.
“G” bed: The large red blooms of the purple-leaved hibiscus continue to be the most dramatic flowers in the garden, capturing most visitors’ visual attention; the Japanese beetles are obsessed with the hibiscus blooms, but the blooms only last a day or two in the best of conditions and the beetles don’t bother with the leaves so their damage remains minimally offensive; the blue and cardinal lobelia are now blooming in the rain garden, as is the pink turtlehead and the ironweed; but the most dramatic blooms behind the hibiscus are several clumps of black-eyed Susans, evidence of their effective expansion of territory in the past two years; less obvious but equally appreciated are the Verbena bonariensis that have successfully self-seeded along the edge of the “G” bed’s gravel walkway; unfortunately the berm south of the rain garden still needs weeding and mulching.
“H” bed: The hydrangea with large white flower-heads is in full bloom now, as are another hibiscus, several wild phlox, several clumps of black-eyed Susans, and a Frans Hals daylily; the big surprise, however, is the appearance of several four-o-clocks in the sundial’s flowerbed, an example of last year’s plants having successfully self-seeded.
“I” bed: By the end of this week, I hope to have this bed cleaned up: a lot of foxtail and unwanted weeds, plus the asters are insistently expanding their domain; of the three patches of Russian sage, the cluster closest to the NE park bench looks great: the other two groups are barely surviving; the late-season minaret daylilies are just beginning to bloom, but the tithonia I sowed in late May are only a foot tall and give no evidence of imminent blooms; more dependable are the volunteer hyssop popping up across the back of the bed, their blooms receiving the constant attention of large black and yellow bees (probably all carpenter bees).
“J” bed: Even though only one of the cosmos I planted at the front of the central bed has survived (plus an enormous volunteer cosmos in the NE corner), the rest of the bed is thoroughly covered with miscellaneous dahlias, most started from seed five years ago; as for the two upper-level beds, they both have large holes left by the departure of the columbine and lupins; also the black knight scabiosa blooms are all gone; the saving grace for these beds are the snow-in-summer at the front of each bed, the ever-dependable hyssop (though it’s really too tall for the space), and a patch of crystal palace lobelia with their intense, deep blue flowers.
“K” bed: Alas, the balloon flowers and the purple coneflowers are both in their final doldrums; but at the back of the border are several attractive clumps of switch grass and Joe Pye Weed; and there’s the ever-dependable clumps of lamb’s ear at the front of the border.
“L” bed: In removing various weeds (e.g., foxtail, creeping charlie, unwanted rose bushes popping up from hidden roots) and dead foliage and stalks (e.g., hollyhocks, Husker Red penstemon, allium seed heads), the NE corner looks quite barren, but that area should soon be covered with fresh compost and mulch–plus I can already see a few grape hyacinths pushing through the soil, committed to their autumn reappearance; the daylilies are all done, with the exception of one bright red bloom in the middle of the bed, but the tall stonecrop are just coming into their own, providing a welcome partner with the stonecrop in the “C” bed.
“M” bed: The zinnias I planted at the front of the “H” bed did not germinate well, but the “M” bed has a clump of diverse zinnias in front of the perennial sunflowers planted last spring in the east end of the bed; another annual doing well is the Grandfather’s Whiskers (Cleome hassleriana) in the crevice garden: although they are too tall for that space, this is where they have decided to call home and they do provide a friendly “welcome” sign for any visitors entering the garden through the NW gate; the M1 bed is where I have allowed several native milkweed to take up residence, though so far this summer I have seen no Monarch caterpillars using them as a feeding station.
“The Lawn”: Without question, we have spent more time this summer grooming the lawn areas than in the hours spent in the flower beds; after killing all the grass last summer, I was hoping the mixture of Kentucky bluegrass and rye would be relatively weed free, but each of the four lawn sections was infected with thousands of nut sedge, crabgrass, spurge, crabgrass, and another grass similar to crabgrass for which I have no name; for the past month we have spent untold hours on hands and knees, patiently digging out each unwanted invader, one at a time; the lawn is still not perfect, but it's beginning to look like a real English-Garden lawn; given the challenges of our weather and other impediments, we will never reach the ideal, but we are significantly closer than we’ve been since I started working with this garden in the spring of 2014.
Beautiful morning; 1.8" in the rain gauge, arriving just in the nick of time. Unless we have some hot, dry, nasty weather in the next two weeks, we should make it into the fall without any wholesale watering. As for this morning’s garden walk, this will be a simple series of observations, following a counter-clockwise procession of perennial flower beds, beginning with the SW gate south of the patio.
“A” beds: The elderberries are bent over with purple fruit, soon to provide a few meals for visiting birds; in bloom are several hostas, snakeroots, hyssops, black-eyed Susans, butterfly bushes, Asclepias tuberosa, one goldenrod, a clump of Millennium allium (see their photo--taken in mid-July--at the end of this report) and a bank of perennial sunflowers; the leaves of several toad lilies planted this spring are sun-bleached (reacquainted with the sun after I cut back the lemon balm that had over-run the flower bed) but new growth suggests they will be okay.
“B” beds: Both B1 and B2 dominated by large mounds of bloody cranesbill foliage–no blooms, but that’s okay; the tall stonecrop now have new flower buds and the veronica I planted this spring continues to provide small blue and white blossoms.
“C” bed: All the daylilies are done except for a magnificent row of four Frans Hals daylilies with their large, vibrant orange and yellow petals.
“D” bed: Darn close to a classic-looking English garden perennial bed with a reasonably good balance of front, middle, and back border flowers in bloom or full foliage (most notably the lamb’s ears); plants currently in bloom include the tansy, Joe Pye weeds, goldenrod, purple coneflowers, a few cranesbill, one small Queen Anne’s lace (which needs to be removed before it goes to seed), and two varieties of stonecrop (the burgundy-leaved version has been blooming all summer); some post-bloomers need to be cut back (several clumps of daylilies and the Jerusalem cross), but overall the bed looks good (one exception being the desiccated astilbe at the west end of the bed; even with a fresh layer of mulch, their soil became too dry during this last dry spell).
“E” bed: The herbs have all done well: basil, sage, thyme, tarragon, fennel, chives, rue, lavender, both rosemary bushes; the large patch of calendula are in their third month of blooming, and the verbena we transplanted from the gravel walkway has all survived and begun to bloom; the bishop dahlias have begun to bloom and the first magnificent Kelvin Floodlight has just appeared.
“F” bed: In some respects similar to the “D” bed with prominent roles at the back of the border played by the tansy and two large Joe Pye weeds at each end of the bed; last week I cleaned up the area around the Baptisia and this bed now looks much cleaner; the bed’s original Rozanne cranesbill continues to produce its distinctive blue blooms; the white phlox have also been blooming for over a month.
“G” bed: The large red blooms of the purple-leaved hibiscus continue to be the most dramatic flowers in the garden, capturing most visitors’ visual attention; the Japanese beetles are obsessed with the hibiscus blooms, but the blooms only last a day or two in the best of conditions and the beetles don’t bother with the leaves so their damage remains minimally offensive; the blue and cardinal lobelia are now blooming in the rain garden, as is the pink turtlehead and the ironweed; but the most dramatic blooms behind the hibiscus are several clumps of black-eyed Susans, evidence of their effective expansion of territory in the past two years; less obvious but equally appreciated are the Verbena bonariensis that have successfully self-seeded along the edge of the “G” bed’s gravel walkway; unfortunately the berm south of the rain garden still needs weeding and mulching.
“H” bed: The hydrangea with large white flower-heads is in full bloom now, as are another hibiscus, several wild phlox, several clumps of black-eyed Susans, and a Frans Hals daylily; the big surprise, however, is the appearance of several four-o-clocks in the sundial’s flowerbed, an example of last year’s plants having successfully self-seeded.
“I” bed: By the end of this week, I hope to have this bed cleaned up: a lot of foxtail and unwanted weeds, plus the asters are insistently expanding their domain; of the three patches of Russian sage, the cluster closest to the NE park bench looks great: the other two groups are barely surviving; the late-season minaret daylilies are just beginning to bloom, but the tithonia I sowed in late May are only a foot tall and give no evidence of imminent blooms; more dependable are the volunteer hyssop popping up across the back of the bed, their blooms receiving the constant attention of large black and yellow bees (probably all carpenter bees).
“J” bed: Even though only one of the cosmos I planted at the front of the central bed has survived (plus an enormous volunteer cosmos in the NE corner), the rest of the bed is thoroughly covered with miscellaneous dahlias, most started from seed five years ago; as for the two upper-level beds, they both have large holes left by the departure of the columbine and lupins; also the black knight scabiosa blooms are all gone; the saving grace for these beds are the snow-in-summer at the front of each bed, the ever-dependable hyssop (though it’s really too tall for the space), and a patch of crystal palace lobelia with their intense, deep blue flowers.
“K” bed: Alas, the balloon flowers and the purple coneflowers are both in their final doldrums; but at the back of the border are several attractive clumps of switch grass and Joe Pye Weed; and there’s the ever-dependable clumps of lamb’s ear at the front of the border.
“L” bed: In removing various weeds (e.g., foxtail, creeping charlie, unwanted rose bushes popping up from hidden roots) and dead foliage and stalks (e.g., hollyhocks, Husker Red penstemon, allium seed heads), the NE corner looks quite barren, but that area should soon be covered with fresh compost and mulch–plus I can already see a few grape hyacinths pushing through the soil, committed to their autumn reappearance; the daylilies are all done, with the exception of one bright red bloom in the middle of the bed, but the tall stonecrop are just coming into their own, providing a welcome partner with the stonecrop in the “C” bed.
“M” bed: The zinnias I planted at the front of the “H” bed did not germinate well, but the “M” bed has a clump of diverse zinnias in front of the perennial sunflowers planted last spring in the east end of the bed; another annual doing well is the Grandfather’s Whiskers (Cleome hassleriana) in the crevice garden: although they are too tall for that space, this is where they have decided to call home and they do provide a friendly “welcome” sign for any visitors entering the garden through the NW gate; the M1 bed is where I have allowed several native milkweed to take up residence, though so far this summer I have seen no Monarch caterpillars using them as a feeding station.
“The Lawn”: Without question, we have spent more time this summer grooming the lawn areas than in the hours spent in the flower beds; after killing all the grass last summer, I was hoping the mixture of Kentucky bluegrass and rye would be relatively weed free, but each of the four lawn sections was infected with thousands of nut sedge, crabgrass, spurge, crabgrass, and another grass similar to crabgrass for which I have no name; for the past month we have spent untold hours on hands and knees, patiently digging out each unwanted invader, one at a time; the lawn is still not perfect, but it's beginning to look like a real English-Garden lawn; given the challenges of our weather and other impediments, we will never reach the ideal, but we are significantly closer than we’ve been since I started working with this garden in the spring of 2014.
Monday Morning Garden Report: 24 July 2019
This week’s report is based on notes gathered during an early morning walk on Wednesday, 24 July. It was a quiet, beautiful morning. When I arrived at the garden, the fountain was not yet in action (its timer is set for 8:00 am), its silence intensifying the sounds of the traffic from both I-380 to the north and 1st Avenue, only one block away. A flock of sparrows was busy chirping in the hawthorn outside the garden walls, though periodically one would zip across the garden and on occasion pause at the cement seat surrounding the fountain. Shortly after I arrived, a small, wren-like gray/brown bird landed in the grass and another perched on one of the steel sculptures. But a majority of neighborhood birds remain outside the garden walls.
As noted in last week’s report, the purple coneflowers are a powerful presence in the garden, but they are now complemented by various orange and yellow bloomers, particularly the black-eyed Susans. The Susans have been particularly active expanding their terrain in the garden’s eastern beds, but they also now play a significant role in the “C” and “D” beds in the SW corner. The perennial sunflowers–an aster-family cousin of the Susans–continue to play a prominent role in the garden’s south side. Last week we cut back most of the sunflowers on the north side. The upper stems were covered with thousands of red aphids and the blooms beginning to fade. At the conclusion of this report is a photo of the first blossom of a sunflower in the "A2" bed.
The low-lying “E” and “J” beds are now entering the third phase of a three-stage bloom cycle: tulips in May, hundreds of bouncing orange and yellow plains coreopsis blooms in June/July, and the dahlias take over in August. All but one of the coreopsis has been removed from the “E” bed, and later today I will remove all but one or two late-blooming coreopsis from the “J” bed. The Bishop of Llandaff dahlias in the “E” bed are not ready to bloom, but we now have the first dark red blooms on an unnamed dahlia in that bed. Yesterday I weeded, fertilized, and mulched the “E” dahlias, and today I’ll do the same for the “J” bed. Another job for today is continuing to attack the crabgrass, spurge, and sedge in the four lawn sections. Our first pass around the lawn focused on pulling up the sedge; this second pass is a slower and more tedious attack on the spurge and the crabgrass, the latter requiring the use of a Japanese root knife for separating the roots from the soil. We won’t get them all, but at least we have virtually no dandelions remaining after last year’s efforts.
We do have several new bloomers. Most notable is the opening buds on the tall Joe Pye. Most of the umbrels are a pink/magenta tone, but there is a lovely Joe Pye with white blooms in the “D” bed, the same bed that now has several tiger lilies in bloom and perhaps a hundred veronica flower spikes running through the middle of the border. The daylilies are now past their prime, but there are still a dozen or so different daylily blooms in the “C” and “L” beds.
Although this Monday report is based on a Wednesday walk, I did do a walk on Monday, late in the day at dusk. It was a 30-minute stroll around the garden with an old friend from Washington State University. JW now lives in Connecticut and is interested in finding flowers and herbs he can grown in pots on his condo’s balcony. Our walk certainly changed the way in which I viewed the garden: I was focused on identifying plants in the garden that might do well in pots in Connecticut. Some of the herbs were obvious choices: basil, rosemary, tarragon, mint, sage, oregano. It was more of a challenge to point out flower options, but we did walk by several perennials that JW found appealing and might be able to survive a Connecticut winter (such as snow-in-summer, coreopsis, stonecrop, cranesbill) or annuals relatively easy to start from seed (zinnias, scabiosa, lobelia, and an annual coreopsis). It was fun looking at the garden’s plants from a new perspective, imagining them at home in a completely different space a thousand miles from Coe.
This week’s report is based on notes gathered during an early morning walk on Wednesday, 24 July. It was a quiet, beautiful morning. When I arrived at the garden, the fountain was not yet in action (its timer is set for 8:00 am), its silence intensifying the sounds of the traffic from both I-380 to the north and 1st Avenue, only one block away. A flock of sparrows was busy chirping in the hawthorn outside the garden walls, though periodically one would zip across the garden and on occasion pause at the cement seat surrounding the fountain. Shortly after I arrived, a small, wren-like gray/brown bird landed in the grass and another perched on one of the steel sculptures. But a majority of neighborhood birds remain outside the garden walls.
As noted in last week’s report, the purple coneflowers are a powerful presence in the garden, but they are now complemented by various orange and yellow bloomers, particularly the black-eyed Susans. The Susans have been particularly active expanding their terrain in the garden’s eastern beds, but they also now play a significant role in the “C” and “D” beds in the SW corner. The perennial sunflowers–an aster-family cousin of the Susans–continue to play a prominent role in the garden’s south side. Last week we cut back most of the sunflowers on the north side. The upper stems were covered with thousands of red aphids and the blooms beginning to fade. At the conclusion of this report is a photo of the first blossom of a sunflower in the "A2" bed.
The low-lying “E” and “J” beds are now entering the third phase of a three-stage bloom cycle: tulips in May, hundreds of bouncing orange and yellow plains coreopsis blooms in June/July, and the dahlias take over in August. All but one of the coreopsis has been removed from the “E” bed, and later today I will remove all but one or two late-blooming coreopsis from the “J” bed. The Bishop of Llandaff dahlias in the “E” bed are not ready to bloom, but we now have the first dark red blooms on an unnamed dahlia in that bed. Yesterday I weeded, fertilized, and mulched the “E” dahlias, and today I’ll do the same for the “J” bed. Another job for today is continuing to attack the crabgrass, spurge, and sedge in the four lawn sections. Our first pass around the lawn focused on pulling up the sedge; this second pass is a slower and more tedious attack on the spurge and the crabgrass, the latter requiring the use of a Japanese root knife for separating the roots from the soil. We won’t get them all, but at least we have virtually no dandelions remaining after last year’s efforts.
We do have several new bloomers. Most notable is the opening buds on the tall Joe Pye. Most of the umbrels are a pink/magenta tone, but there is a lovely Joe Pye with white blooms in the “D” bed, the same bed that now has several tiger lilies in bloom and perhaps a hundred veronica flower spikes running through the middle of the border. The daylilies are now past their prime, but there are still a dozen or so different daylily blooms in the “C” and “L” beds.
Although this Monday report is based on a Wednesday walk, I did do a walk on Monday, late in the day at dusk. It was a 30-minute stroll around the garden with an old friend from Washington State University. JW now lives in Connecticut and is interested in finding flowers and herbs he can grown in pots on his condo’s balcony. Our walk certainly changed the way in which I viewed the garden: I was focused on identifying plants in the garden that might do well in pots in Connecticut. Some of the herbs were obvious choices: basil, rosemary, tarragon, mint, sage, oregano. It was more of a challenge to point out flower options, but we did walk by several perennials that JW found appealing and might be able to survive a Connecticut winter (such as snow-in-summer, coreopsis, stonecrop, cranesbill) or annuals relatively easy to start from seed (zinnias, scabiosa, lobelia, and an annual coreopsis). It was fun looking at the garden’s plants from a new perspective, imagining them at home in a completely different space a thousand miles from Coe.
Monday Morning Garden Report: 15 July 2019
Hot and dry. Since we have had no measurable rain for over two weeks, we began watering the garden today, running a sprinkler on a lawn section while hand watering specific plants that are showing stress. In some cases–such as the astilbes in the “D” bed–we should have begun watering last week, but the periodic predictions of possible showers nurtured a dream we would catch one of those fly-by thunderstorms. But no such luck.
While jotting down the notes for this report, I’m sitting on a bench north of the fountain, the bench just barely in the shade of the garden wall. I see evidence of a breeze moving through the Joe Pye weed on the south side of the garden, but no breeze is reaching this bench.
Directly across from me are the “E” bed dahlias–planted several weeks behind schedule–mixed in with the self-seeding plains coreopsis. The Midwest native annual relishes this dry, midsummer weather. While they have thoroughly spread themselves across the “E” bed and its “J” bed counterpart on my side of the garden, the coreopsis has also produced hundreds of baby coreopsis in the gravel walkways, nearly all of which we have executed–a classic example of a plant judged a desirable flower in one location and a weed an inch away. As for the dahlias, one would think these Central American natives should love these mid-July conditions, but perhaps the centuries of cultivation have caused them to lose some of their native vigor. A few are beginning to droop, and tomorrow we’ll start watering them.
As I was working in the garden this morning, I was surprised by how the purple coneflowers have become the garden’s dominant flower in this stretch of July. I counted 31 different coneflower colonies–plus many stray loners–nearly all the result of self-seeding. They seem to do well in all parts of the garden, though in a few instances their lax leaves are showing their exhaustion from the dry weather. Those individuals may be struggling with compacted soil that has not received much protective mulch.
In addition to the coneflowers, the garden now has hundreds of yellow and brown flowers in the aster/sunflower family. Earlier this spring we separated two groups of perennial sunflowers into a curved line of six patches in the “F” bed. It’s gratifying to see they have blended beautifully while remaining in full bloom for several weeks. One patch of sunflowers in the “I” bed had an incredible infestation of red aphids. The thousands of aphids didn’t kill the sunflowers, but the flowers were often becoming limp during the daytime hours, and so this morning we gave the sunflowers a substantive pruning, wrapping stems and aphids in a plastic garbage bag that was deposited in a dumpster.
From this park bench I can see several appealing combinations of flowers. One of my favorites is in the east corner of the “F” bed–an aggregation of phlox (magenta blooms), bee balm (reddish-purple blooms), several purple coneflowers, and a border with a white shasta daisy and a light-blue scabiosa. I suspect an artist sensitive to color combinations might object to this array of colors rubbing next to each other, but I find it quite satisfying. In the same bed, I also like the combination of the yellow blooms of a perennial coreopsis with the blue blossoms of the Rozanne cranesbill. At each end of the F bed are the Joe Pye weeds, just beginning to bloom: white blooms on the west end, purple on the east. Most of the perennial beds now have Joe Pye weeds in them–all the result of self-seeding. In the “D” bed, the Joy Pyes are in the center rear of the bed. As they move in the wind, they remind me of a chorus in a Greek play, commenting on the garden beds around them.
The cranesbill in the “D” bed are mostly finished with their blooming–with the exception of a small Rozanne planted earlier this spring. At present the star of this bed is a patch of bright yellow daylilies. I don’t know the variety’s name (they were present in the garden when I arrived on the scene), but we made a good decision re-positioning them so they form this large, spherical group of blooms near the center of the perennial bed. They will be past their prime in another week, but today they are in their full glory.
In the two beds in front of the patio, the daylilies are now in full force and should continue to command that scene for another 2-3 weeks. There are about 45 different daylily cultivars in the garden, and a few minutes ago I counted 19 varieties blooming in the “C” and “L” beds–though the Stella d’oros are all finished. It really is a chaos of color, each daylily shouting for attention. Perhaps those beds should be more well-behaved, but I enjoy the exuberant energy of these daylilies, most mid-season bloomers, vigorously seeking attention. Fortunately there appear to be plenty of bees–plus some red admirals and monarchs–responding to their siren calls.
Other notable bloomers emerging in the past week include the blue balloon flowers (most notably in the “G,” “K”, & “L” beds), the black-eyed susans (which have really expanded their presence in the “G” bed), and the purple-headed allium behind the NE bench (I had given up hope that these allium–planted last fall–had survived the winter). The Millennial Alliums in the “A” and “M” beds with their marvelous dark green foliage are just getting ready to bloom. I’m also pleased that the garden’s lone agapanthus (located in the “A1" behind the Millennial Allium) has several flower stalks that should soon be opening. And, finally, the crocosima in the “A1" bed are now flowering. Regrettably, I have not yet cleaned up that area of the garden, which has some wonderful plants–including lipstick lychnis, pearly everlasting, two buddleia butterfly bushes, and a nice patch of Asclepias tuberosa (now in bloom)–but everything looks jumbled together, weighed down with dead foliage (buttercups, spiderwort, tulips, etc). Maybe I’ll get to that area later this week.
Finally, a welcome surprise. Last year we had dozens of Argentenian vervain (Verbena bonariensis) growing around the rugosa rose and in the two drainage channels that feed water into the rain garden. We allowed all the verbena to go to seed, but as of a couple weeks ago I saw no evidence of any successful self-seeding. Today, however, while preparing to clean up the walkways at the east end of the garden, I discovered several dozen V. bonariensis growing in the walkway and another group behind the NE bench. The longer I spend my days in the Coe garden, the more I cherish the contributions of these and other self-seeders. Despite my introductions of flowers either purchased from a nursery or germinated from seed in the greenhouse, so much of the power and integrity of this garden derives from the self-seeders: purple coneflowers, penstemons, black-eyed susans, goldenrod, New England asters, Joe Pye weeds, verbenas, ox-eye daisies, columbines, spiderworts, blazing stars, obedient plants, hollyhocks, love-in-a-mist, euphorbias, false indigos, plains coreopsis, bloody cranesbills, and even the Queen Anne’s lace that I’m so frequently sending to the compost bin. These opportunistic self-seeders are the heart and soul of the garden. As their student, I’m discovering that my task is to be their collaborator, to listen to them and to work with them. ~Bob
Hot and dry. Since we have had no measurable rain for over two weeks, we began watering the garden today, running a sprinkler on a lawn section while hand watering specific plants that are showing stress. In some cases–such as the astilbes in the “D” bed–we should have begun watering last week, but the periodic predictions of possible showers nurtured a dream we would catch one of those fly-by thunderstorms. But no such luck.
While jotting down the notes for this report, I’m sitting on a bench north of the fountain, the bench just barely in the shade of the garden wall. I see evidence of a breeze moving through the Joe Pye weed on the south side of the garden, but no breeze is reaching this bench.
Directly across from me are the “E” bed dahlias–planted several weeks behind schedule–mixed in with the self-seeding plains coreopsis. The Midwest native annual relishes this dry, midsummer weather. While they have thoroughly spread themselves across the “E” bed and its “J” bed counterpart on my side of the garden, the coreopsis has also produced hundreds of baby coreopsis in the gravel walkways, nearly all of which we have executed–a classic example of a plant judged a desirable flower in one location and a weed an inch away. As for the dahlias, one would think these Central American natives should love these mid-July conditions, but perhaps the centuries of cultivation have caused them to lose some of their native vigor. A few are beginning to droop, and tomorrow we’ll start watering them.
As I was working in the garden this morning, I was surprised by how the purple coneflowers have become the garden’s dominant flower in this stretch of July. I counted 31 different coneflower colonies–plus many stray loners–nearly all the result of self-seeding. They seem to do well in all parts of the garden, though in a few instances their lax leaves are showing their exhaustion from the dry weather. Those individuals may be struggling with compacted soil that has not received much protective mulch.
In addition to the coneflowers, the garden now has hundreds of yellow and brown flowers in the aster/sunflower family. Earlier this spring we separated two groups of perennial sunflowers into a curved line of six patches in the “F” bed. It’s gratifying to see they have blended beautifully while remaining in full bloom for several weeks. One patch of sunflowers in the “I” bed had an incredible infestation of red aphids. The thousands of aphids didn’t kill the sunflowers, but the flowers were often becoming limp during the daytime hours, and so this morning we gave the sunflowers a substantive pruning, wrapping stems and aphids in a plastic garbage bag that was deposited in a dumpster.
From this park bench I can see several appealing combinations of flowers. One of my favorites is in the east corner of the “F” bed–an aggregation of phlox (magenta blooms), bee balm (reddish-purple blooms), several purple coneflowers, and a border with a white shasta daisy and a light-blue scabiosa. I suspect an artist sensitive to color combinations might object to this array of colors rubbing next to each other, but I find it quite satisfying. In the same bed, I also like the combination of the yellow blooms of a perennial coreopsis with the blue blossoms of the Rozanne cranesbill. At each end of the F bed are the Joe Pye weeds, just beginning to bloom: white blooms on the west end, purple on the east. Most of the perennial beds now have Joe Pye weeds in them–all the result of self-seeding. In the “D” bed, the Joy Pyes are in the center rear of the bed. As they move in the wind, they remind me of a chorus in a Greek play, commenting on the garden beds around them.
The cranesbill in the “D” bed are mostly finished with their blooming–with the exception of a small Rozanne planted earlier this spring. At present the star of this bed is a patch of bright yellow daylilies. I don’t know the variety’s name (they were present in the garden when I arrived on the scene), but we made a good decision re-positioning them so they form this large, spherical group of blooms near the center of the perennial bed. They will be past their prime in another week, but today they are in their full glory.
In the two beds in front of the patio, the daylilies are now in full force and should continue to command that scene for another 2-3 weeks. There are about 45 different daylily cultivars in the garden, and a few minutes ago I counted 19 varieties blooming in the “C” and “L” beds–though the Stella d’oros are all finished. It really is a chaos of color, each daylily shouting for attention. Perhaps those beds should be more well-behaved, but I enjoy the exuberant energy of these daylilies, most mid-season bloomers, vigorously seeking attention. Fortunately there appear to be plenty of bees–plus some red admirals and monarchs–responding to their siren calls.
Other notable bloomers emerging in the past week include the blue balloon flowers (most notably in the “G,” “K”, & “L” beds), the black-eyed susans (which have really expanded their presence in the “G” bed), and the purple-headed allium behind the NE bench (I had given up hope that these allium–planted last fall–had survived the winter). The Millennial Alliums in the “A” and “M” beds with their marvelous dark green foliage are just getting ready to bloom. I’m also pleased that the garden’s lone agapanthus (located in the “A1" behind the Millennial Allium) has several flower stalks that should soon be opening. And, finally, the crocosima in the “A1" bed are now flowering. Regrettably, I have not yet cleaned up that area of the garden, which has some wonderful plants–including lipstick lychnis, pearly everlasting, two buddleia butterfly bushes, and a nice patch of Asclepias tuberosa (now in bloom)–but everything looks jumbled together, weighed down with dead foliage (buttercups, spiderwort, tulips, etc). Maybe I’ll get to that area later this week.
Finally, a welcome surprise. Last year we had dozens of Argentenian vervain (Verbena bonariensis) growing around the rugosa rose and in the two drainage channels that feed water into the rain garden. We allowed all the verbena to go to seed, but as of a couple weeks ago I saw no evidence of any successful self-seeding. Today, however, while preparing to clean up the walkways at the east end of the garden, I discovered several dozen V. bonariensis growing in the walkway and another group behind the NE bench. The longer I spend my days in the Coe garden, the more I cherish the contributions of these and other self-seeders. Despite my introductions of flowers either purchased from a nursery or germinated from seed in the greenhouse, so much of the power and integrity of this garden derives from the self-seeders: purple coneflowers, penstemons, black-eyed susans, goldenrod, New England asters, Joe Pye weeds, verbenas, ox-eye daisies, columbines, spiderworts, blazing stars, obedient plants, hollyhocks, love-in-a-mist, euphorbias, false indigos, plains coreopsis, bloody cranesbills, and even the Queen Anne’s lace that I’m so frequently sending to the compost bin. These opportunistic self-seeders are the heart and soul of the garden. As their student, I’m discovering that my task is to be their collaborator, to listen to them and to work with them. ~Bob
Monday Morning Garden Report: 20 May 2019
At the beginning of the month, it was the flowering bulbs that dominated the landscape, particularly the daffodils and tulips. Today, with a few exceptions, the bulb blooms are finished for the season and one's initial impression of the garden landscape is dominated by foliage. Although many flowers are in bloom, most are relatively quiet and unobtrusive. It’s the diverse leaf colors, textures, and tints which are vigorously announcing, “We’re here. We have arrived.” The foliage that particularly catches my attention this morning include:
• The hostas. The leaves all look fresh, including the ones that will eventually be overexposed and scorched in the summer sun. Two of my favorites are the hostas with yellow or white edging, providing dramatic lighting even in the shadiest areas of the garden.
• Sources of burgundy foliage: the three wine and rose weigela (though evidence of some winter damage with the one planted south of the patio); the small but distinctive heucheras planted under the pergola; the rich, dark foliage of the Husker Red and Dark Tower penstemons, providing a series of exclamation points throughout the garden. The penstemons are effective self-seeders and have quietly but effectively expanded their presence throughout the garden in the last three years.
• The Small Fern Garden: the Japanese Painted Fern, the Ghost fern, and a light green “generic fern” (I’m not sure of its heritage) under the eye of Judson’s sculpture The Little Gardener.
• Rain Garden: the meadow rue (already over 5' tall) and the astilbe (including an unintended but welcome contrast of the golden and green foliage of two varieties on the berm bordering the rain garden); in the rain garden’s peninsula are the phlox, the Siberian iris, the variegated Solomon’s Seal, and the dark wine red leaves of the newly planted Japanese Maple.
• Front of Border stalwarts, many with traces of silver or gray in their leaves: Helen von Stein Lamb’s Ear, the Brunnera’s silver leaves interlaced with green canals, a single pulmonaria close to the NW park bench (with its unexpected, brightly-colored small flowers--see photo at conclusion of this report), and the Lady’s Mantle (nearly always with beads of water on their fan-like leaves).
But it’s not all foliage. Here is a list of flowers I found blooming on this morning’s walk:
• Flag iris: the two beds of flag iris next to the garden shed are now entering their peak phase; the iris in the rain garden will bloom later.
• Columbine: the native aquilegia with the orange blooms and the elegant white and blue-flowering columbine in the raised “J” beds.
• Cranesbill: blooms on several cultivars (including Lancaster and Bevan’s Variety) are just appearing.
• Firewitch dianthus: I just planted three more Firewitch, but it’s unlikely they will bloom this year.
• Yellow bloomers: several patches of coreopsis (both Moonbeam and Zagreb) and wild buttercups (brought in from the wilds of Minnesota).
• Various shades of blue, including Blue Queen Salvia and May Night Meadow Sage, the Amsonia Hubricht Blue Star, the patches of catmint in the “C” and “L” flower beds, the Baptisia, the tiny blooms of the creeping veronica in the rock garden.
• Several sources of white blooms, including a large dame rocket, the ox-eye daisies (which will soon dominate the east end of the garden), the snow in summer.
• And, alas, there are several bloomers now in decline: the Blushing Lady tulips (the stars of this year’s tulip display), flowering crab (their best year in recent memory), grape hyacinths, daffodils, fritillaria, moss phlox, and summer snowflakes (Leucojum aestivium).
At the beginning of the month, it was the flowering bulbs that dominated the landscape, particularly the daffodils and tulips. Today, with a few exceptions, the bulb blooms are finished for the season and one's initial impression of the garden landscape is dominated by foliage. Although many flowers are in bloom, most are relatively quiet and unobtrusive. It’s the diverse leaf colors, textures, and tints which are vigorously announcing, “We’re here. We have arrived.” The foliage that particularly catches my attention this morning include:
• The hostas. The leaves all look fresh, including the ones that will eventually be overexposed and scorched in the summer sun. Two of my favorites are the hostas with yellow or white edging, providing dramatic lighting even in the shadiest areas of the garden.
• Sources of burgundy foliage: the three wine and rose weigela (though evidence of some winter damage with the one planted south of the patio); the small but distinctive heucheras planted under the pergola; the rich, dark foliage of the Husker Red and Dark Tower penstemons, providing a series of exclamation points throughout the garden. The penstemons are effective self-seeders and have quietly but effectively expanded their presence throughout the garden in the last three years.
• The Small Fern Garden: the Japanese Painted Fern, the Ghost fern, and a light green “generic fern” (I’m not sure of its heritage) under the eye of Judson’s sculpture The Little Gardener.
• Rain Garden: the meadow rue (already over 5' tall) and the astilbe (including an unintended but welcome contrast of the golden and green foliage of two varieties on the berm bordering the rain garden); in the rain garden’s peninsula are the phlox, the Siberian iris, the variegated Solomon’s Seal, and the dark wine red leaves of the newly planted Japanese Maple.
• Front of Border stalwarts, many with traces of silver or gray in their leaves: Helen von Stein Lamb’s Ear, the Brunnera’s silver leaves interlaced with green canals, a single pulmonaria close to the NW park bench (with its unexpected, brightly-colored small flowers--see photo at conclusion of this report), and the Lady’s Mantle (nearly always with beads of water on their fan-like leaves).
But it’s not all foliage. Here is a list of flowers I found blooming on this morning’s walk:
• Flag iris: the two beds of flag iris next to the garden shed are now entering their peak phase; the iris in the rain garden will bloom later.
• Columbine: the native aquilegia with the orange blooms and the elegant white and blue-flowering columbine in the raised “J” beds.
• Cranesbill: blooms on several cultivars (including Lancaster and Bevan’s Variety) are just appearing.
• Firewitch dianthus: I just planted three more Firewitch, but it’s unlikely they will bloom this year.
• Yellow bloomers: several patches of coreopsis (both Moonbeam and Zagreb) and wild buttercups (brought in from the wilds of Minnesota).
• Various shades of blue, including Blue Queen Salvia and May Night Meadow Sage, the Amsonia Hubricht Blue Star, the patches of catmint in the “C” and “L” flower beds, the Baptisia, the tiny blooms of the creeping veronica in the rock garden.
• Several sources of white blooms, including a large dame rocket, the ox-eye daisies (which will soon dominate the east end of the garden), the snow in summer.
• And, alas, there are several bloomers now in decline: the Blushing Lady tulips (the stars of this year’s tulip display), flowering crab (their best year in recent memory), grape hyacinths, daffodils, fritillaria, moss phlox, and summer snowflakes (Leucojum aestivium).
Monday Morning Garden Report: 6 May 2019
A divine day following a divine weekend: sunny, 74F, 57% humidity. The flowering crab are now in full bloom, masses of white blossoms accompanied by their delicate fragrance, raising the entire garden into a phase bordering on transcendent beauty. The blooms won’t last long, but the rest of this week should provide moments when one thinks, “it doesn’t get any better than this.” Here are a few other items that caught my attention this morning:
• The “C” bed. This morning there exists an attractive juxtaposition of leaf colors and textures: the silver-gray yarrow, the dark burgundy leaves of the Husker Red Penstemon, the lavender-like mounds of catmint, the silvery-jade leaves of the succulent stonecrops, the thin bluish spears of the Firewitch dianthus, the cascading mounds of dark green daylily foliage, the spurge topped with the bright yellow bracts surrounding the tiny blossoms. The penstemon and spurge have freely self-sown throughout the bed, their free-lancing accidents providing much of the bed’s dynamic energy. [You can click on this link to view an Alumni House Garden Map that identifies the locations of the specific flower beds.]
• The “L” bed. The other bed in front of the Alumni House patio has many of the same plants but what dominates my attention is the row of white tulips running along the bed’s northern end, tulip blossoms which have had a longer staying power than most of the garden’s tulips. And behind the tulips are the much smaller white pendant flowers of the Leucojum vernum, like small punctuation marks floating above the tulips. The snowflakes are more easily seen because last week I removed the last of the rose bushes and several clumps of New England asters that had been the dominant presence throughout the bed when I began working in the garden in the spring of 2014. The daylilies that will fill in this space are now sitting in the greenhouse, waiting to be planted later this week. [At the end of this report is a May 5 photo of this area of the garden.]
• The Rock Garden. On Saturday at Harlo’s retirement celebration, one guest said she was completely unprepared for all the flowers now blooming in the rock garden. It certainly is a year when the moss phloxes have filled out and are now in full bloom, framed by the orange Angelina sedum and a lovely patch of creeping veronica full of their tiny blue blooms. The one major disappointment is that the rock cress was over-run last summer by the large English thyme in the middle of the bed and has just barely survived. Two years ago its lovely white blossoms were the stars of the early spring flowers, but this year it managed one bloom. If it’s still alive in a couple of weeks, I will carve out a new home for it in the crevice garden, and try to ensure it receives better protection from aggressive neighbors.
• The Tulips in the “E” bed. I tend not be a big fan of pastel-toned tulips, but the Blushing Lady tulips planted in the “E” and “A1" beds have become my all-time favorites. They offer a stunning color combination, the rosy-pink petals gently sliding into a soft yellow on the edges. The Blushing Ladies are categorized as Single Lates, producing very tall, long-stemmed blooms in an elegant, elongated form. I find them particularly attractive because they are just as beautiful when closed (which is their default status) as when open. They are reputed to be great candidates for cut flowers, but I have so far resisted the desire to harvest a bloom for a glass vase. In front of the Blushing Lady bed are the Tubergen’s Gems, Tulipa clusiana, a native of Afghanistan and Nepal. Although the T. Gems color combination with the Blushing Lady may not be an ideal composition to some eyes, I like the contrast provided by the species’ dark red outer petals and the inner "sulphur yellow" (a phrase from the catalog where I ordered them). There is also, to my eye, an intriguing tension between the elegant hybridization of the Blushing Lady and the native-looking, wild flower simplicity of the heirloom tulip. I’m hoping these species bulbs will find this new habitat attractive and will choose to naturalize in this and the tulip bed on the opposite side of the garden.
• The Two Herb Beds. In the two raised “E” beds behind the tulips are the areas primarily reserved for the garden’s herbs. The four clumps of chives are all bursting with growth and dozens of flower buds preparing to open, some of the earliest alliums to bloom in the spring. In the middle of the two beds are two potted rosemary bushes that had been stored in the greenhouse through the winter, as well as a pot of French tarragon, which also spent the winter in the greenhouse. The remaining herbs, all able to handle a Zone 5 Iowa winter, include two varieties of oregano, two varieties of thyme (though the creeping thyme has proven more resilient than the English thyme), a sage, and a rue. One other notable development is that at the back of the west-side bed are tiny fennel seedlings, the result of self-seeding from the fennel not harvested last fall. In another week, the remainder of the herb beds will be filled in with several herbs started from seed earlier this spring, including summer savory, cilantro, and six basil varieties.
• The “F” bed. The “F” bed is in honor of Signi Falk, long-time English Department professor whose “Falk House” was once located at approximately the location where the garden’s “F” perennial flower bed is to be found. In many ways this remains the least well-defined area in the Alumni House Garden. The east end of the bed was the first to receive a substantial replanting in August of 2014. At that time I gutted the bed and filled it in with a backdrop of Foerster's Feather Reed Grass (Calamagrostis x acutiflora 'Karl Foerster'), framing a mix of bee balm, white phlox, scabiosa pincushion, and a shasta daisy hybrid. The Foerster grass has done marvelously, but the other plants have never effectively blended together, nor has the remainder of the bed acquired much coherence. Several plants have done well individually, all present in 2014: a large tansy, an expanding bed of an early-blooming perennial sunflower, and a false indigo. The Baptisia has created problems because of its over-shadowing several flowers–such as three Stokes asters that I planted too close to the false indigo. It’s also notable this spring that except for two small clumps of daffodils, the bed does not have an effective spring bulb flowering presence. Last fall I planted several dozen Tulipa dasystemon at the front of the border, and this spring they all produced lovely yellow, star-shaped petals with white tips, but their bloom cycle was only a few days, and there was nothing available to fill in once they departed. One notable compensation was that this spring the white bleeding heart did reappear, and next week I will plant two more bleeding hearts in that area, which should help in future springs.
• The “G” bed. One concern is that two of the wisteria planted under the pergola have not yet begun to bud out, and I worry they may not have survived the winter. They both had great growth spurts last summer, out-performing two older wisteria, but so far I don’t see any evidence of living buds. But most of my “G” bed attention this spring has been digging up and removing horsetail. I was disappointed to see how much horsetail has popped up in the rain garden and in an area in front of the pergola where I completely turned over all the soil last summer, attempting to remove the roots of the horsetail, vetch, and gooseneck. The latter two have been eliminated, but the Equisetum is back with a vengeance. It’s certainly easy to understand why horsetail varieties have managed to survive for so many millions and millions of year. On the other hand, there are some lovely developments in this bed. The Japanese Maple planted several weeks ago has settled in, its leaves fully expanded and giving ample evidence of its intention to thrive. Along the berm above the rain garden, I planted a bag of Tulipa dasystemon and a bag of large, yellow-blooming daffodils–a combination that has worked beautifully. These tulips began blooming a week later than their siblings planted in the “F” bed, but they have retained their blooms much longer. Another pleasant development is the emergence and expansion of the variegated Solomon’s seal in the “G” bed’s peninsula, directly in front of a bed of Siberian Iris. The first time I saw a variegated Solomon’s seal was in the Allerton Peony Garden, not far from Champaign, Illinois. I immediately ordered several for my home and the Alumni House Garden. Once planted, they have steadily established themselves as unique, dependable three-season plants, requiring virtually no further care or special attention. It’s hard not to like them.
A divine day following a divine weekend: sunny, 74F, 57% humidity. The flowering crab are now in full bloom, masses of white blossoms accompanied by their delicate fragrance, raising the entire garden into a phase bordering on transcendent beauty. The blooms won’t last long, but the rest of this week should provide moments when one thinks, “it doesn’t get any better than this.” Here are a few other items that caught my attention this morning:
• The “C” bed. This morning there exists an attractive juxtaposition of leaf colors and textures: the silver-gray yarrow, the dark burgundy leaves of the Husker Red Penstemon, the lavender-like mounds of catmint, the silvery-jade leaves of the succulent stonecrops, the thin bluish spears of the Firewitch dianthus, the cascading mounds of dark green daylily foliage, the spurge topped with the bright yellow bracts surrounding the tiny blossoms. The penstemon and spurge have freely self-sown throughout the bed, their free-lancing accidents providing much of the bed’s dynamic energy. [You can click on this link to view an Alumni House Garden Map that identifies the locations of the specific flower beds.]
• The “L” bed. The other bed in front of the Alumni House patio has many of the same plants but what dominates my attention is the row of white tulips running along the bed’s northern end, tulip blossoms which have had a longer staying power than most of the garden’s tulips. And behind the tulips are the much smaller white pendant flowers of the Leucojum vernum, like small punctuation marks floating above the tulips. The snowflakes are more easily seen because last week I removed the last of the rose bushes and several clumps of New England asters that had been the dominant presence throughout the bed when I began working in the garden in the spring of 2014. The daylilies that will fill in this space are now sitting in the greenhouse, waiting to be planted later this week. [At the end of this report is a May 5 photo of this area of the garden.]
• The Rock Garden. On Saturday at Harlo’s retirement celebration, one guest said she was completely unprepared for all the flowers now blooming in the rock garden. It certainly is a year when the moss phloxes have filled out and are now in full bloom, framed by the orange Angelina sedum and a lovely patch of creeping veronica full of their tiny blue blooms. The one major disappointment is that the rock cress was over-run last summer by the large English thyme in the middle of the bed and has just barely survived. Two years ago its lovely white blossoms were the stars of the early spring flowers, but this year it managed one bloom. If it’s still alive in a couple of weeks, I will carve out a new home for it in the crevice garden, and try to ensure it receives better protection from aggressive neighbors.
• The Tulips in the “E” bed. I tend not be a big fan of pastel-toned tulips, but the Blushing Lady tulips planted in the “E” and “A1" beds have become my all-time favorites. They offer a stunning color combination, the rosy-pink petals gently sliding into a soft yellow on the edges. The Blushing Ladies are categorized as Single Lates, producing very tall, long-stemmed blooms in an elegant, elongated form. I find them particularly attractive because they are just as beautiful when closed (which is their default status) as when open. They are reputed to be great candidates for cut flowers, but I have so far resisted the desire to harvest a bloom for a glass vase. In front of the Blushing Lady bed are the Tubergen’s Gems, Tulipa clusiana, a native of Afghanistan and Nepal. Although the T. Gems color combination with the Blushing Lady may not be an ideal composition to some eyes, I like the contrast provided by the species’ dark red outer petals and the inner "sulphur yellow" (a phrase from the catalog where I ordered them). There is also, to my eye, an intriguing tension between the elegant hybridization of the Blushing Lady and the native-looking, wild flower simplicity of the heirloom tulip. I’m hoping these species bulbs will find this new habitat attractive and will choose to naturalize in this and the tulip bed on the opposite side of the garden.
• The Two Herb Beds. In the two raised “E” beds behind the tulips are the areas primarily reserved for the garden’s herbs. The four clumps of chives are all bursting with growth and dozens of flower buds preparing to open, some of the earliest alliums to bloom in the spring. In the middle of the two beds are two potted rosemary bushes that had been stored in the greenhouse through the winter, as well as a pot of French tarragon, which also spent the winter in the greenhouse. The remaining herbs, all able to handle a Zone 5 Iowa winter, include two varieties of oregano, two varieties of thyme (though the creeping thyme has proven more resilient than the English thyme), a sage, and a rue. One other notable development is that at the back of the west-side bed are tiny fennel seedlings, the result of self-seeding from the fennel not harvested last fall. In another week, the remainder of the herb beds will be filled in with several herbs started from seed earlier this spring, including summer savory, cilantro, and six basil varieties.
• The “F” bed. The “F” bed is in honor of Signi Falk, long-time English Department professor whose “Falk House” was once located at approximately the location where the garden’s “F” perennial flower bed is to be found. In many ways this remains the least well-defined area in the Alumni House Garden. The east end of the bed was the first to receive a substantial replanting in August of 2014. At that time I gutted the bed and filled it in with a backdrop of Foerster's Feather Reed Grass (Calamagrostis x acutiflora 'Karl Foerster'), framing a mix of bee balm, white phlox, scabiosa pincushion, and a shasta daisy hybrid. The Foerster grass has done marvelously, but the other plants have never effectively blended together, nor has the remainder of the bed acquired much coherence. Several plants have done well individually, all present in 2014: a large tansy, an expanding bed of an early-blooming perennial sunflower, and a false indigo. The Baptisia has created problems because of its over-shadowing several flowers–such as three Stokes asters that I planted too close to the false indigo. It’s also notable this spring that except for two small clumps of daffodils, the bed does not have an effective spring bulb flowering presence. Last fall I planted several dozen Tulipa dasystemon at the front of the border, and this spring they all produced lovely yellow, star-shaped petals with white tips, but their bloom cycle was only a few days, and there was nothing available to fill in once they departed. One notable compensation was that this spring the white bleeding heart did reappear, and next week I will plant two more bleeding hearts in that area, which should help in future springs.
• The “G” bed. One concern is that two of the wisteria planted under the pergola have not yet begun to bud out, and I worry they may not have survived the winter. They both had great growth spurts last summer, out-performing two older wisteria, but so far I don’t see any evidence of living buds. But most of my “G” bed attention this spring has been digging up and removing horsetail. I was disappointed to see how much horsetail has popped up in the rain garden and in an area in front of the pergola where I completely turned over all the soil last summer, attempting to remove the roots of the horsetail, vetch, and gooseneck. The latter two have been eliminated, but the Equisetum is back with a vengeance. It’s certainly easy to understand why horsetail varieties have managed to survive for so many millions and millions of year. On the other hand, there are some lovely developments in this bed. The Japanese Maple planted several weeks ago has settled in, its leaves fully expanded and giving ample evidence of its intention to thrive. Along the berm above the rain garden, I planted a bag of Tulipa dasystemon and a bag of large, yellow-blooming daffodils–a combination that has worked beautifully. These tulips began blooming a week later than their siblings planted in the “F” bed, but they have retained their blooms much longer. Another pleasant development is the emergence and expansion of the variegated Solomon’s seal in the “G” bed’s peninsula, directly in front of a bed of Siberian Iris. The first time I saw a variegated Solomon’s seal was in the Allerton Peony Garden, not far from Champaign, Illinois. I immediately ordered several for my home and the Alumni House Garden. Once planted, they have steadily established themselves as unique, dependable three-season plants, requiring virtually no further care or special attention. It’s hard not to like them.
Monday Morning Garden Report: 29 April 2019
Garden walk at 10:00 a.m on a cloudy day, temp at 45F. Although I have not yet set out the garden rain gauge, I suspect we had about 3/4" of rain last night. Large pools of water at several locations on the gravel walkways and about ½" of water in the rain garden. My major discovery this morning, however, was the significant damage to the NE section of the lawn, almost certainly caused by one or more raccoons digging up the freshly sown grass, searching for grubs. This is the third morning in the past week when I have had to spend the morning trying to put soil and new grass back in place–but this morning’s damage was by far the most extensive. At least there is no evidence they are eating the crocus, which we planted through this area last fall. As for the live animal trap set next to the compost bin, some animal (perhaps the coon) had removed the apple bait, but the trap mechanism was not sprung. Tonight I’ll set up a second trap and add some peanut butter and marshmellows to go with the apples. In the past week I’ve trapped and re-located two coons that had invaded my vegetable garden near Wickiup Hill Learning Center, and last summer we trapped two coons and a groundhog here at the Coe garden. I was not aware the coons did any significant damage to the garden last year, but they have proven to be a authentic pain this spring. Addendum: on Wednesday night we caught an adult raccoon in one of the live traps. At the beginning of this report is a photo of the prisoner, a few hours before he was deported from the Coe property.
Other garden observations of a more pleasant nature from this morning’s walk, focusing on the “J,” “I” & “H” beds in the northeast quarter of the garden.
• Tulip Beds. The Red Flair tulips planted last fall in the “J” bed north of the fountain are now at their peak. They’re surrounded by the smaller Tubergen’s Gem species tulips whose flower buds have not yet opened. Behind this bed are the two raised beds where I planted two dozen Red Impressions tulips, which are all now in bloom. On the opposite side of the garden, the Blushing Lady tulips all have buds but are not yet ready to open. As with other flowers in front of the north-facing wall, they run about a week behind the flowers which receive more early morning sun in front of the south-facing wall. In fact, the delay for the daffodils this year has probably been closer to ten days.
• Snow-in-Summer. We have two large swaths of Cerastium tomentosum growing in each of the raised “J” beds. In the gravel “nursery” in front of the beds I found 20 or more new self-sown Cerastium. Later this week I will dig them up to fill in a few gaps in the Snow-in-Summer mat of wooly leaves. The other C. Tomentosum colony, located in the “H” bed sundial bed, looks very healthy and is already producing flower buds.
• Peonies. In the west corner of the “I” bed and along the “G” bed’s peninsula, I’ve created two peony refugee camps, comprised of peonies discovered the last four years hiding out in odd locations. Many have been retrieved from under the yews, somehow managing to stay alive in a small world with no direct sunlight. Earlier this spring I moved three small peonies that had appeared under the flowering crab next to the NE park bench. I would say the “I” bed group now looks reasonably substantial and several may even have a few blooms.
• Prairie Smoke. The two Geum triflorum in the “I” bed both look great, producing a record number of pink buds. I’ve read these native North American wild flowers are short-lived and should be divided every 3-4 years, but these are looking so vigorous that I will wait at least one more year before messing with them. These super-hard natives (capable of thriving north of the Arctic Circle) have become one of my personal favorites, with attractive three-season qualities.
• Hollyhocks. Next to the lone Baptisia in the “I” bed are two hollyhocks, a large one that has been functioning as a perennial for several years and another baby hollyhock appearing this year, one that will soon be overshadowed by the fast-emerging Baptisia. One job in the next week is to dig up and move this smaller hollyhock–along with lone hollyhocks that have popped up in the “C” and “L” beds–and create a brood around the larger “mother” plant. Because of summer sun/heat, this “I” bed should be the ideal location for creating a hollyhock colony. A related task is to build up the collection of tall, late flowering ‘Autumn Minaret’ daylilies behind these hollyhocks. I ordered another Minaret this spring to help fill in this space. The Minarets cost $29 a piece–more than I like to pay for a daylily–but once they fill out they should be ideal for this bed, becoming a focal point for August-blooming flowers.
• Compass Plants. Wonders never cease. Four years ago I managed to get seeds for two Silphium lacinatum to germinate and I planted the seedlings at the back of the “I” bed. They did reasonably well the first year, but two years ago they got buried by some taller hyssop and last year in late spring they were eaten by a groundhog, who was dining on several Midwest natives. Last fall I saw no sign of either compass plant and thought they were goners, but this morning I saw their distinctive pinnately lobed leaves lifting upwards. Since we trapped the groundhog, we have not had more difficulties with that species, and I’m not planning to provide the compass plants with any additional defense system, but I am determined to ensure they get plenty of sun and space so they can begin to fulfill their ornamental and ecological functions.
• Russian Sage. The clump of three Perovskia atriplicifolia at the front of the “I” bed all have new growth at the base of each plant. I need to cut off last year’s dead branches, but I’ll wait another week to make sure those dead branches are not going to produce more new growth. That group of Russian sage is really too large for the front of the bed, but I hate to move them because they have done well there, much better than the Russian sage planted in other locations. One solution may be to start a second front-of-border group further up the gravel walkway, which might suggest more intentionality in my landscaping. Although I saw Russian sage effectively used at the front of perennial flower borders in the botanical garden in Chicago, they somehow looked more at home with those flower beds--which were inhabited with larger and more mature plants than we have here at Coe. Last summer I did move two small Russian sage plants to the NW corner of the “I” bed–next to the Wine & Roses Weigela. They both have new growth, but they remain quite small and I’m not sure they will ever match the robust stature of the older group. I also have one lone Russian sage stuck by itself in a corner of the “G” bed: this would be the best candidate for moving to the “I” bed in an attempt to build a third colony.
• Crown Imperial Fritillaria. When I planted these odd-looking bulbs last fall, I was worried about their survival. The nursery’s planting guide had warned that the bulbs had a tendency to rot in soil that did not drain efficiently, and it was important for them to be positioned in the soil so they didn’t collect water. Well, it turned out all the bulbs have provided us with large, erect, 2' tall plants, each with flowers sporting distinctive orange petals. And by Midwest standards, they are certainly exotic looking. In the past week I’ve had two visitors ask me “What is that flower?” Certainly one value of this garden is enabling people to see flowers they are not likely to see in their local Menards or Home Depot–seasonal plant warehouses that have become such powerful sources for our primary flower options. While all the Crown Imperials came up, the percentages with other fritillaria plantings have been much lower. In the “G” bed peninsula I planted a dozen smaller, purple-flowered fritillaria–but it appears only two survived the winter.
• Trout Lilies. Another success from last fall’s bulb planting is a nice crop of trout lilies (Erythronium americanum, a species name testifying to its North American origins) growing under the pergola. Like the fritillaria, the trout lily flowers face downward, surely evidence of their self-deprecating modesty–though the trout lily blossoms are a bright yellow, impossible to miss.
• Fragrant viburnum. This viburnum is probably an Alumni House Garden original–and thus I can’t be absolutely sure of its identification–but the blossom’s early spring fragrance would indicate this is a Viburnum farreri, a name honoring the botanist Reginald John Farrer, the early 20th-century English plant hunter. All the other garden’s viburnum bloom later in the spring, but this shrub produces clumps of waxy white blossoms in the last two weeks of April. While the blooms are quite lovely, what is particularly notable is the powerful sweet fragrance. My nose may not be especially effective in discerning fragrances, but it has no problem detecting this perfume, even before I unlock the garden’s east gate.
• Clematis. We have five clematis in the garden, and this spring all are showing dramatic rebirth. Historically the two clematis in front of the pergola have not done well, probably because they have lacked a suitable structure for climbing. I have tried convincing them to grow on bamboo poles, but it has been evident they need recurrent opportunities for weaving themselves around and through their support structure. Earlier this spring I replaced the bamboo with two 8' tall metal trellises–and it’s already apparent this is going to provide the clematis with a more functional support for their expansion and display of flowers. I’m less confident of convincing the honeysuckle in the “H” bed to become more adept at climbing its wooden Eiffel Tower. The honeysuckle is far more interested in growing horizontally across the ground. But at least it is growing.
• Weeds. The east end of the garden continues to offer the most demanding weed challenges–not counting the lawn, which offers it own set of unique problems. The primary east-end weeds are the horsetail, bindweed, thistle, gooseneck, and swamp milkweed. They are all adept at developing expansive underground root systems. Despite these plants’ resiliency, repeated hand weeding and digging has eliminated most of the thistle, gooseneck, and swamp milkweed. They now represent more of an occasional annoyance than an inescapable migraine. On the other hand, the horsetail and bindweed remain as vigorous as ever. I do find it interesting that I see a lot of horsetail growing along the creek near my vegetable garden--and in that natural setting I find the horsetail rather appealing–but in Coe’s perennial flower garden it has become my sworn enemy. Perhaps my gardening would be easier if I reconsidered my perspective.
Garden walk at 10:00 a.m on a cloudy day, temp at 45F. Although I have not yet set out the garden rain gauge, I suspect we had about 3/4" of rain last night. Large pools of water at several locations on the gravel walkways and about ½" of water in the rain garden. My major discovery this morning, however, was the significant damage to the NE section of the lawn, almost certainly caused by one or more raccoons digging up the freshly sown grass, searching for grubs. This is the third morning in the past week when I have had to spend the morning trying to put soil and new grass back in place–but this morning’s damage was by far the most extensive. At least there is no evidence they are eating the crocus, which we planted through this area last fall. As for the live animal trap set next to the compost bin, some animal (perhaps the coon) had removed the apple bait, but the trap mechanism was not sprung. Tonight I’ll set up a second trap and add some peanut butter and marshmellows to go with the apples. In the past week I’ve trapped and re-located two coons that had invaded my vegetable garden near Wickiup Hill Learning Center, and last summer we trapped two coons and a groundhog here at the Coe garden. I was not aware the coons did any significant damage to the garden last year, but they have proven to be a authentic pain this spring. Addendum: on Wednesday night we caught an adult raccoon in one of the live traps. At the beginning of this report is a photo of the prisoner, a few hours before he was deported from the Coe property.
Other garden observations of a more pleasant nature from this morning’s walk, focusing on the “J,” “I” & “H” beds in the northeast quarter of the garden.
• Tulip Beds. The Red Flair tulips planted last fall in the “J” bed north of the fountain are now at their peak. They’re surrounded by the smaller Tubergen’s Gem species tulips whose flower buds have not yet opened. Behind this bed are the two raised beds where I planted two dozen Red Impressions tulips, which are all now in bloom. On the opposite side of the garden, the Blushing Lady tulips all have buds but are not yet ready to open. As with other flowers in front of the north-facing wall, they run about a week behind the flowers which receive more early morning sun in front of the south-facing wall. In fact, the delay for the daffodils this year has probably been closer to ten days.
• Snow-in-Summer. We have two large swaths of Cerastium tomentosum growing in each of the raised “J” beds. In the gravel “nursery” in front of the beds I found 20 or more new self-sown Cerastium. Later this week I will dig them up to fill in a few gaps in the Snow-in-Summer mat of wooly leaves. The other C. Tomentosum colony, located in the “H” bed sundial bed, looks very healthy and is already producing flower buds.
• Peonies. In the west corner of the “I” bed and along the “G” bed’s peninsula, I’ve created two peony refugee camps, comprised of peonies discovered the last four years hiding out in odd locations. Many have been retrieved from under the yews, somehow managing to stay alive in a small world with no direct sunlight. Earlier this spring I moved three small peonies that had appeared under the flowering crab next to the NE park bench. I would say the “I” bed group now looks reasonably substantial and several may even have a few blooms.
• Prairie Smoke. The two Geum triflorum in the “I” bed both look great, producing a record number of pink buds. I’ve read these native North American wild flowers are short-lived and should be divided every 3-4 years, but these are looking so vigorous that I will wait at least one more year before messing with them. These super-hard natives (capable of thriving north of the Arctic Circle) have become one of my personal favorites, with attractive three-season qualities.
• Hollyhocks. Next to the lone Baptisia in the “I” bed are two hollyhocks, a large one that has been functioning as a perennial for several years and another baby hollyhock appearing this year, one that will soon be overshadowed by the fast-emerging Baptisia. One job in the next week is to dig up and move this smaller hollyhock–along with lone hollyhocks that have popped up in the “C” and “L” beds–and create a brood around the larger “mother” plant. Because of summer sun/heat, this “I” bed should be the ideal location for creating a hollyhock colony. A related task is to build up the collection of tall, late flowering ‘Autumn Minaret’ daylilies behind these hollyhocks. I ordered another Minaret this spring to help fill in this space. The Minarets cost $29 a piece–more than I like to pay for a daylily–but once they fill out they should be ideal for this bed, becoming a focal point for August-blooming flowers.
• Compass Plants. Wonders never cease. Four years ago I managed to get seeds for two Silphium lacinatum to germinate and I planted the seedlings at the back of the “I” bed. They did reasonably well the first year, but two years ago they got buried by some taller hyssop and last year in late spring they were eaten by a groundhog, who was dining on several Midwest natives. Last fall I saw no sign of either compass plant and thought they were goners, but this morning I saw their distinctive pinnately lobed leaves lifting upwards. Since we trapped the groundhog, we have not had more difficulties with that species, and I’m not planning to provide the compass plants with any additional defense system, but I am determined to ensure they get plenty of sun and space so they can begin to fulfill their ornamental and ecological functions.
• Russian Sage. The clump of three Perovskia atriplicifolia at the front of the “I” bed all have new growth at the base of each plant. I need to cut off last year’s dead branches, but I’ll wait another week to make sure those dead branches are not going to produce more new growth. That group of Russian sage is really too large for the front of the bed, but I hate to move them because they have done well there, much better than the Russian sage planted in other locations. One solution may be to start a second front-of-border group further up the gravel walkway, which might suggest more intentionality in my landscaping. Although I saw Russian sage effectively used at the front of perennial flower borders in the botanical garden in Chicago, they somehow looked more at home with those flower beds--which were inhabited with larger and more mature plants than we have here at Coe. Last summer I did move two small Russian sage plants to the NW corner of the “I” bed–next to the Wine & Roses Weigela. They both have new growth, but they remain quite small and I’m not sure they will ever match the robust stature of the older group. I also have one lone Russian sage stuck by itself in a corner of the “G” bed: this would be the best candidate for moving to the “I” bed in an attempt to build a third colony.
• Crown Imperial Fritillaria. When I planted these odd-looking bulbs last fall, I was worried about their survival. The nursery’s planting guide had warned that the bulbs had a tendency to rot in soil that did not drain efficiently, and it was important for them to be positioned in the soil so they didn’t collect water. Well, it turned out all the bulbs have provided us with large, erect, 2' tall plants, each with flowers sporting distinctive orange petals. And by Midwest standards, they are certainly exotic looking. In the past week I’ve had two visitors ask me “What is that flower?” Certainly one value of this garden is enabling people to see flowers they are not likely to see in their local Menards or Home Depot–seasonal plant warehouses that have become such powerful sources for our primary flower options. While all the Crown Imperials came up, the percentages with other fritillaria plantings have been much lower. In the “G” bed peninsula I planted a dozen smaller, purple-flowered fritillaria–but it appears only two survived the winter.
• Trout Lilies. Another success from last fall’s bulb planting is a nice crop of trout lilies (Erythronium americanum, a species name testifying to its North American origins) growing under the pergola. Like the fritillaria, the trout lily flowers face downward, surely evidence of their self-deprecating modesty–though the trout lily blossoms are a bright yellow, impossible to miss.
• Fragrant viburnum. This viburnum is probably an Alumni House Garden original–and thus I can’t be absolutely sure of its identification–but the blossom’s early spring fragrance would indicate this is a Viburnum farreri, a name honoring the botanist Reginald John Farrer, the early 20th-century English plant hunter. All the other garden’s viburnum bloom later in the spring, but this shrub produces clumps of waxy white blossoms in the last two weeks of April. While the blooms are quite lovely, what is particularly notable is the powerful sweet fragrance. My nose may not be especially effective in discerning fragrances, but it has no problem detecting this perfume, even before I unlock the garden’s east gate.
• Clematis. We have five clematis in the garden, and this spring all are showing dramatic rebirth. Historically the two clematis in front of the pergola have not done well, probably because they have lacked a suitable structure for climbing. I have tried convincing them to grow on bamboo poles, but it has been evident they need recurrent opportunities for weaving themselves around and through their support structure. Earlier this spring I replaced the bamboo with two 8' tall metal trellises–and it’s already apparent this is going to provide the clematis with a more functional support for their expansion and display of flowers. I’m less confident of convincing the honeysuckle in the “H” bed to become more adept at climbing its wooden Eiffel Tower. The honeysuckle is far more interested in growing horizontally across the ground. But at least it is growing.
• Weeds. The east end of the garden continues to offer the most demanding weed challenges–not counting the lawn, which offers it own set of unique problems. The primary east-end weeds are the horsetail, bindweed, thistle, gooseneck, and swamp milkweed. They are all adept at developing expansive underground root systems. Despite these plants’ resiliency, repeated hand weeding and digging has eliminated most of the thistle, gooseneck, and swamp milkweed. They now represent more of an occasional annoyance than an inescapable migraine. On the other hand, the horsetail and bindweed remain as vigorous as ever. I do find it interesting that I see a lot of horsetail growing along the creek near my vegetable garden--and in that natural setting I find the horsetail rather appealing–but in Coe’s perennial flower garden it has become my sworn enemy. Perhaps my gardening would be easier if I reconsidered my perspective.
Monday Morning Garden Report: 22 April 2019
Because of rain in the forecast, I started my day working at my vegetable garden and didn’t visit the Coe garden until after lunch. When I arrived, the Garden Shed thermometer registered 83F in the garden, 92F in the greenhouse. I opened two greenhouse windows and turned on the fan, trying to prepare the seedlings for life outside the friendly confines once we are past the threat of a real freeze. Spent about 30 minutes walking around and taking notes on the west end of the garden, saving the rest of the garden for next week’s report. Here are a few items that captured my attention:
• Feces Gift. As soon as I entered the garden through the SW gate, the first item that caught my attention was a large mammal turd (from an unidentified large mammal), a graceful spiral of black fecal matter deposited next to the brick wall of the M1 bed. The dark bronze feces resembled the short, curled leaves of the nearby Lipstick Lychnis–a comparison I would never have foreseen given the flower’s lovely foliage.
• Butterfly Bush. The biggest buddleia has new foliage just beginning to emerge at the base of last year’s plant. The buddleia is surrounded by the wild strawberries from Minnesota, a vigorous groundcover. This bed is also the home of the Lucifer crocosima; at first I didn’t see any signs of new crocosima foliage, but after gently moving aside some debris, I saw several shoots confirming their survival.
• Columbine Foliage. Many clumps of self-sowing Aquilegia canadensis throughout the bed, the clumps full of beautiful small green leaves with occasional hints of burgundy on the outer edges. I love that both the flower’s common and Latin names refer to birds: “Aquilegia” means eagle and refers to the blooms’ spurred petals and “Columbine” is from the Latin word for dove. The nearby buttercups–which came from Minnesota with the strawberries--also produce lovely mounds of foliage, but their leaves are no match for the exquisite Aquilegia..
• Plexiglass Garden Quotes. Last week we installed seven 2x3' plexiglass plates with garden quotes etched on the surfaces. At the moment the plates stand out more assertively than I would prefer, but they are all placed toward the back of their respective flower beds and once we have more vegetation, they should begin to blend into their surroundings. One of the plates already has a white trail of bird poop streaming down the surface, another fecal gift from the garden’s wildlife. I spent a long time pondering the choice of quotes, wanting ones that were thought-provoking but not too solemn. Of course I had to include the Francis Bacon quote on God creating the first garden. Other authors who made the final cut were Henry David Thoreau, Aldo Leopold, D. H. Lawrence, Vita Sackville-West, Alice Walker, and James Carse.
• Hostas. In the “A1" bed, the light-green hostas with the white edging are now coming up beneath the flowering crab, accompanied by the wild ginger. The ginger tends to disappear later in the spring, overshadowed by the larger hostas; I often forget the ginger is there, nor do I often remember to look for their inconspicuous brown flowers.
• The “C” Bed. Some lovely yellow trumpet daffodils, now at their peak; also several pink tulips that have just opened and many batches of blue and white wind flowers, far more than in years past. I must have planted some tubers last fall, but at the moment I don’t remember doing so.
• The “L” Bed. The yellow tete-a-tete daffodils are finished for the season, but most of the spring bulbs are just entering their prime. The grape hyacinths have dozens and dozens of small, purple blooming triangles, but what really catches my eye this afternoon is the row of white tulips that will be opening in another day or two. The bed also has wonderful mounds of stonecrop and spurge, the latter just beginning to produce their showy yellow “blooms” (a display primarily dependent on the yellow bracts framing the small flowers).
• Rock Garden. The end of April is the flush season for the rock garden. Six varieties of moss phlox are now in bloom, and the creeping veronica is just beginning to produce its tiny but exquisite blue flowers. Later this spring I will remove large chunks of the Angelina sedum, but its orange foliage is quite appealing on this April afternoon. Next to the rock garden, the red tulips are in full bloom, underneath the flowering crab espalier, whose flower buds should be opening up within the next week.
• Peonies, False Indigo, and Bleeding Hearts. Of all the garden’s perennial flower beds, the M1 bed immediately north of the patio is the one that has been least modified in the past five years: it is still dominated by a row of false indigo at the back of the bed and a row of peonies running through the middle. The baptisia are just beginning to emerge; many of the peonies are already standing a foot or more, their unfolding red leaves gracefully evolving into their green habits. In the midst of the peonies is a lone bleeding heart, with three arching horizontal racemes from which hang the pink and white “hearts.” I’ve ordered three more bleeding hearts intended for this same bed, trying to give these Asian natives more presence. The resident bleeding heart totally disappears by the middle of the summer; I’m not sure if the new arrivals will adopt a similar disappearing act.
• Behind the SW Park Bench. Several of the spring snowflakes (Leucojum vernum) are just beginning to bloom with the light green dots near the tips of their white petals. Also in the same area are the forget-me-not-like blue blooms of the Brunner macrophylla 'Jack Frost' and the yellow flowers of the barren strawberries (Waldsteinia fragarioides). I planted the strawberries five years ago, and they have been slower to expand their terrain than I had expected. This year, however, they have really flourished, producing enough blooms to establish a definitive early spring presence, before they retreat into the background as a green groundcover. Photo of barren strawberries at the end of this report.
• Three Dandelions. Last year at this time I was spending hours each week digging up and removing dandelions from the lawn and the gravel walkways. It’s too early to proclaim victory, but today I only found one small dandelion in the lawn and two dandelions–each with a single bloom–in a gravel walkway. I’m sure hundreds of dandelion seeds are waiting for their cue to assert themselves, but at least for one morning, it feels like we have made some progress. Alas, the horsetail at the east end of the garden is a different tale, but I’ll save a description of that battle for next week’s report.
Because of rain in the forecast, I started my day working at my vegetable garden and didn’t visit the Coe garden until after lunch. When I arrived, the Garden Shed thermometer registered 83F in the garden, 92F in the greenhouse. I opened two greenhouse windows and turned on the fan, trying to prepare the seedlings for life outside the friendly confines once we are past the threat of a real freeze. Spent about 30 minutes walking around and taking notes on the west end of the garden, saving the rest of the garden for next week’s report. Here are a few items that captured my attention:
• Feces Gift. As soon as I entered the garden through the SW gate, the first item that caught my attention was a large mammal turd (from an unidentified large mammal), a graceful spiral of black fecal matter deposited next to the brick wall of the M1 bed. The dark bronze feces resembled the short, curled leaves of the nearby Lipstick Lychnis–a comparison I would never have foreseen given the flower’s lovely foliage.
• Butterfly Bush. The biggest buddleia has new foliage just beginning to emerge at the base of last year’s plant. The buddleia is surrounded by the wild strawberries from Minnesota, a vigorous groundcover. This bed is also the home of the Lucifer crocosima; at first I didn’t see any signs of new crocosima foliage, but after gently moving aside some debris, I saw several shoots confirming their survival.
• Columbine Foliage. Many clumps of self-sowing Aquilegia canadensis throughout the bed, the clumps full of beautiful small green leaves with occasional hints of burgundy on the outer edges. I love that both the flower’s common and Latin names refer to birds: “Aquilegia” means eagle and refers to the blooms’ spurred petals and “Columbine” is from the Latin word for dove. The nearby buttercups–which came from Minnesota with the strawberries--also produce lovely mounds of foliage, but their leaves are no match for the exquisite Aquilegia..
• Plexiglass Garden Quotes. Last week we installed seven 2x3' plexiglass plates with garden quotes etched on the surfaces. At the moment the plates stand out more assertively than I would prefer, but they are all placed toward the back of their respective flower beds and once we have more vegetation, they should begin to blend into their surroundings. One of the plates already has a white trail of bird poop streaming down the surface, another fecal gift from the garden’s wildlife. I spent a long time pondering the choice of quotes, wanting ones that were thought-provoking but not too solemn. Of course I had to include the Francis Bacon quote on God creating the first garden. Other authors who made the final cut were Henry David Thoreau, Aldo Leopold, D. H. Lawrence, Vita Sackville-West, Alice Walker, and James Carse.
• Hostas. In the “A1" bed, the light-green hostas with the white edging are now coming up beneath the flowering crab, accompanied by the wild ginger. The ginger tends to disappear later in the spring, overshadowed by the larger hostas; I often forget the ginger is there, nor do I often remember to look for their inconspicuous brown flowers.
• The “C” Bed. Some lovely yellow trumpet daffodils, now at their peak; also several pink tulips that have just opened and many batches of blue and white wind flowers, far more than in years past. I must have planted some tubers last fall, but at the moment I don’t remember doing so.
• The “L” Bed. The yellow tete-a-tete daffodils are finished for the season, but most of the spring bulbs are just entering their prime. The grape hyacinths have dozens and dozens of small, purple blooming triangles, but what really catches my eye this afternoon is the row of white tulips that will be opening in another day or two. The bed also has wonderful mounds of stonecrop and spurge, the latter just beginning to produce their showy yellow “blooms” (a display primarily dependent on the yellow bracts framing the small flowers).
• Rock Garden. The end of April is the flush season for the rock garden. Six varieties of moss phlox are now in bloom, and the creeping veronica is just beginning to produce its tiny but exquisite blue flowers. Later this spring I will remove large chunks of the Angelina sedum, but its orange foliage is quite appealing on this April afternoon. Next to the rock garden, the red tulips are in full bloom, underneath the flowering crab espalier, whose flower buds should be opening up within the next week.
• Peonies, False Indigo, and Bleeding Hearts. Of all the garden’s perennial flower beds, the M1 bed immediately north of the patio is the one that has been least modified in the past five years: it is still dominated by a row of false indigo at the back of the bed and a row of peonies running through the middle. The baptisia are just beginning to emerge; many of the peonies are already standing a foot or more, their unfolding red leaves gracefully evolving into their green habits. In the midst of the peonies is a lone bleeding heart, with three arching horizontal racemes from which hang the pink and white “hearts.” I’ve ordered three more bleeding hearts intended for this same bed, trying to give these Asian natives more presence. The resident bleeding heart totally disappears by the middle of the summer; I’m not sure if the new arrivals will adopt a similar disappearing act.
• Behind the SW Park Bench. Several of the spring snowflakes (Leucojum vernum) are just beginning to bloom with the light green dots near the tips of their white petals. Also in the same area are the forget-me-not-like blue blooms of the Brunner macrophylla 'Jack Frost' and the yellow flowers of the barren strawberries (Waldsteinia fragarioides). I planted the strawberries five years ago, and they have been slower to expand their terrain than I had expected. This year, however, they have really flourished, producing enough blooms to establish a definitive early spring presence, before they retreat into the background as a green groundcover. Photo of barren strawberries at the end of this report.
• Three Dandelions. Last year at this time I was spending hours each week digging up and removing dandelions from the lawn and the gravel walkways. It’s too early to proclaim victory, but today I only found one small dandelion in the lawn and two dandelions–each with a single bloom–in a gravel walkway. I’m sure hundreds of dandelion seeds are waiting for their cue to assert themselves, but at least for one morning, it feels like we have made some progress. Alas, the horsetail at the east end of the garden is a different tale, but I’ll save a description of that battle for next week’s report.
Monday Morning Garden Report: 8 April 2019
It’s Flunk Day at Coe. Normally I never hear the voices of Coe’s students on a Monday morning–or any other day--but this is the one day of the year when the sounds of celebration jump over the garden walls, vigorously announcing the students’ gleeful one-day reprieve from class lectures, labs, and exams. The student body president picked a good day for the annual festivities. At 8:30 this morning, it was already 53F, comfortable humidity (66%), clear skies, and a forecast for a day of sunshine. While students were contemplating a day of freedom from their academic responsibilities, I spent my first hour in the garden simply wandering around the garden paths, picking up several candy wrappers, and jotting down such observations as the following:
• The most exciting discovery this morning is that the grass seed sown in the two east-side sections of the lawn has germinated. Fresh green spears are emerging uniformly through the straw matting. In the same area are the blooms of hundreds of crocus (the “tommies”) planted last fall shortly before throwing around the grass seed. It will take several years to see how well they naturalize in this area, but at least they have successfully made it through their first winter.
• The flag iris outside the garden shed all look in great form, many green spears already a foot tall; the iris in the shade next to the old apartments are shorter (maximum of 6" tall), but they look healthy. So far, the garden’s perennials appear to have survived the winter in good shape.
• Crocosima and agapanthus are two borderline Z5 perennials that I covered in straw last fall; this past weekend I removed the straw, and in a week or two we’ll know how successfully they handled Iowa’s January and February.
• One failure. I planted ten snowdrops last fall in the SW corner of the “L” bed; only one came up, producing a single bloom; we’ll try again next fall.
• Perennials I spotted this morning with fresh foliage:
Hostas (those close to south facing walls)
Bleeding heart
Columbine (exquisite newly minted foliage)
Comfrey (primary ingredient for our compost tea)
Cranesbill
Siberian iris
Tansy (started emerging several weeks ago)
Maltese cross
Chives (ready for a first harvest)
Boltonia
New England asters
Hollyhocks (several should be moved to the “I” bed to create a decent colony)
Hyssop (clump-forming member of the mint family that has self-seeded throughout the garden)
Lady’s mantle
Lamb’s ear
Peonies (several with burgundy leaves just beginning to unfold)
Spurge
Barren strawberries
Buttercups
Brunnera (lovely, silver leaves behind NW bench)
Leucojum (snowflakes, also behind the NW bench, the last of the spring bulbs to bloom)
Grape hyacinth (green throughout the winter, but the green now looks much fresher; perhaps blooms within the next two weeks)
Cardinal flower (in the rain garden)
Mums (the last flowers to bloom in the fall and some of the first to produce fresh foliage in the spring)
Coreopsis
Catmint
Daylilies
Love-in-a-Mist (hundreds of these annuals germinated last fall and most appear to have survived the winter with their lovely, fern-like foliage)
• Several early spring bulbs are already past their prime; the Iris reticulata in the crevice garden were the first to bloom (see photo at the end of the last March report) and are already done for the year; most of the old crocus and the winter aconite (Eranthis hyemalis) in the beds in front of the patio are also entering their final bloom week.
• The two large forsythia at the east end of the garden are both beginning to bloom; their display of yellow blooms should reach their peak by the end of the week.
• Most of the shrubs show leaf buds just beginning to unfold: viburnum, flowering crab, hydrangea, elderberry, lilacs.
• This weekend I installed two metal trellises for the clematis in front of the pergola, hoping these structures will improve the clematis’ visual presence.
• I installed nine new plant supports/screens designed by Cara Briggs Farmer, five screens placed in the rear of the middle of the “D” bed and four matching screens across the garden in the middle of the “K” bed; they shoul help corral ornamental grasses, New England asters, and Joe Pye weeds.
• Several hellebores have new buds and one has already produced several beautiful lime-green blooms with tie-dye maroon borders on the petals; the blooms are very shy, facing down toward the soil, easily missed by people walking by.
• Nearly all the tulips planted last fall are surfacing; one variety in an “E” bed has leaves with beautiful dark maroon stripes.
• Most of the allium planted last fall have emerged, though I’m depressed to note how often the bulb spacing looks too tidy and symmetrical.
• Standing in front of the patio, I counted 18 clumps of daffodils in bloom, all groups of solid yellows, all located in the north half of the garden in areas warmed by the morning sun; my favorites remain the tete-a-tetes, small daffodils with vibrant, buttercup-yellow blossoms; we still have several daffodil clumps producing green foliage but no flower buds; in the next week I will dig those up, separate them, and replant with fresh compost, perhaps inspiring some to produce blooms next year.
It’s Flunk Day at Coe. Normally I never hear the voices of Coe’s students on a Monday morning–or any other day--but this is the one day of the year when the sounds of celebration jump over the garden walls, vigorously announcing the students’ gleeful one-day reprieve from class lectures, labs, and exams. The student body president picked a good day for the annual festivities. At 8:30 this morning, it was already 53F, comfortable humidity (66%), clear skies, and a forecast for a day of sunshine. While students were contemplating a day of freedom from their academic responsibilities, I spent my first hour in the garden simply wandering around the garden paths, picking up several candy wrappers, and jotting down such observations as the following:
• The most exciting discovery this morning is that the grass seed sown in the two east-side sections of the lawn has germinated. Fresh green spears are emerging uniformly through the straw matting. In the same area are the blooms of hundreds of crocus (the “tommies”) planted last fall shortly before throwing around the grass seed. It will take several years to see how well they naturalize in this area, but at least they have successfully made it through their first winter.
• The flag iris outside the garden shed all look in great form, many green spears already a foot tall; the iris in the shade next to the old apartments are shorter (maximum of 6" tall), but they look healthy. So far, the garden’s perennials appear to have survived the winter in good shape.
• Crocosima and agapanthus are two borderline Z5 perennials that I covered in straw last fall; this past weekend I removed the straw, and in a week or two we’ll know how successfully they handled Iowa’s January and February.
• One failure. I planted ten snowdrops last fall in the SW corner of the “L” bed; only one came up, producing a single bloom; we’ll try again next fall.
• Perennials I spotted this morning with fresh foliage:
Hostas (those close to south facing walls)
Bleeding heart
Columbine (exquisite newly minted foliage)
Comfrey (primary ingredient for our compost tea)
Cranesbill
Siberian iris
Tansy (started emerging several weeks ago)
Maltese cross
Chives (ready for a first harvest)
Boltonia
New England asters
Hollyhocks (several should be moved to the “I” bed to create a decent colony)
Hyssop (clump-forming member of the mint family that has self-seeded throughout the garden)
Lady’s mantle
Lamb’s ear
Peonies (several with burgundy leaves just beginning to unfold)
Spurge
Barren strawberries
Buttercups
Brunnera (lovely, silver leaves behind NW bench)
Leucojum (snowflakes, also behind the NW bench, the last of the spring bulbs to bloom)
Grape hyacinth (green throughout the winter, but the green now looks much fresher; perhaps blooms within the next two weeks)
Cardinal flower (in the rain garden)
Mums (the last flowers to bloom in the fall and some of the first to produce fresh foliage in the spring)
Coreopsis
Catmint
Daylilies
Love-in-a-Mist (hundreds of these annuals germinated last fall and most appear to have survived the winter with their lovely, fern-like foliage)
• Several early spring bulbs are already past their prime; the Iris reticulata in the crevice garden were the first to bloom (see photo at the end of the last March report) and are already done for the year; most of the old crocus and the winter aconite (Eranthis hyemalis) in the beds in front of the patio are also entering their final bloom week.
• The two large forsythia at the east end of the garden are both beginning to bloom; their display of yellow blooms should reach their peak by the end of the week.
• Most of the shrubs show leaf buds just beginning to unfold: viburnum, flowering crab, hydrangea, elderberry, lilacs.
• This weekend I installed two metal trellises for the clematis in front of the pergola, hoping these structures will improve the clematis’ visual presence.
• I installed nine new plant supports/screens designed by Cara Briggs Farmer, five screens placed in the rear of the middle of the “D” bed and four matching screens across the garden in the middle of the “K” bed; they shoul help corral ornamental grasses, New England asters, and Joe Pye weeds.
• Several hellebores have new buds and one has already produced several beautiful lime-green blooms with tie-dye maroon borders on the petals; the blooms are very shy, facing down toward the soil, easily missed by people walking by.
• Nearly all the tulips planted last fall are surfacing; one variety in an “E” bed has leaves with beautiful dark maroon stripes.
• Most of the allium planted last fall have emerged, though I’m depressed to note how often the bulb spacing looks too tidy and symmetrical.
• Standing in front of the patio, I counted 18 clumps of daffodils in bloom, all groups of solid yellows, all located in the north half of the garden in areas warmed by the morning sun; my favorites remain the tete-a-tetes, small daffodils with vibrant, buttercup-yellow blossoms; we still have several daffodil clumps producing green foliage but no flower buds; in the next week I will dig those up, separate them, and replant with fresh compost, perhaps inspiring some to produce blooms next year.
Monday Morning Garden Report: 18 March 2019
When I did my first walk around the Alumni House Garden this morning, it was a tale of two cities. The north side of the garden was basking in early morning sunlight, the flower beds free of snow, the gravel walkways wet and soggy. Rising to meet the sun-drenched air were hundreds of green, yellow, and red shoots of daffodils and tulips. In contrast, the south side was still in the shadows of the garden’s brick and cedar wall, the gravel walkways still frozen, large patches of ice and snow covering the flower beds, only a few daffodil spears barely above the surface. Three hours later, however, the temperature had risen to 40F, and the entire garden gave the impression spring would prevail. While we might observe a few more March and April battles, the tide of the war has shifted. The garden’s south side still has patches of snow and ice, but most of the walkways are now soft and springy, the garden’s world becoming in the words of e. e. cummings “mud-luscious” and “puddle wonderful.”
In my February 18 MMGR I discussed several plants that had been ordered and will be added to the garden’s collection later this spring. Here are comments on more newcomers that should be in the garden by the middle of May.
• Ornamental Grasses. I ordered six varieties of grasses: 3 switch grasses (Panicum Cloud Nine, Panicum Rotstrahlbusch, Panicum North Wind) and three miscanthus (Huron Sunrise, Red Arrow, and Zebrinus). In 2015 I planted several unidentified switch grass cultivars at the east end of the garden and they have done beautifully. Perhaps we can establish a similar group in the “D” bed on the south side of the garden. At home, I have a short row of Rotstrahlbusch that have been very impressive, remaining upright and unbowed throughout the heavy snows of January and February. As for the miscanthus, I hope to use the Huron Sunrise and Red Arrow to collaborate with three miscanthus we planted in 2015 that have effectively ingratiated themselves on the north side of the garden. As for the Zebrinus, we’ll use it in the “L” bed to balance another established Zebrinus in the “C” bed.
• Hemerocallis. One of the major changes in the garden in the past five years is the removal of the rose bushes and New England asters that were the primary perennials in the “C” and “L” beds east of the patio–replaced by over 35 different varieties of daylilies and alliums. This spring we will continue that transformation by replacing the last of the rose bushes with several new daylilies, emphasizing early and mid-season daylilies with large 5-6" blossoms.
--'Always Afternoon': The catalog describes these daylilies as having 5" raspberry-pink blooms with yellow-chartreuse eyes; this recipient of the prestigious Stout Award from the American Hemerocallis Society should start blooming in early June.
--'Calico Jack': Early to mid-season bright yellow 6” blossoms with green throat and plum-red ruffled edges and matching eye. Each stem should produce numerous blossoms.
--'Forty Second Street': Mid-season pastel-pink double 5" blossoms with a rosy eye and yellow throat.
--'Joan Senior': An early to mid-season daylily producing near-white 6" flowers; reputed to have an extended bloom period.
--'Moonlit Masquerade': The 6" blooms combine burgundy and ivory petals with a green throat.
--'Simmons Overture': Has the reputation as a super bloomer, producing 6" lavender-rose flowers with plum eyes and matching ruffled edges.
--'Storm of the Century': Catalog photos show purple petals edged with golden-ivory ruffles and white streaks from the throat to the edge of the petals.
I ordered at least three of each variety, but we don’t have space for 21 new daylilies in the “C” and “L” beds, so we’ll probably remove some Stella d’oros located in other beds and increase the diversity of cultivars throughout the garden.
• Helianthus microcephalus. This is a Zone 4 rhizomatous, perennial sunflower native to the Midwest. The golden 1" daisy-like blooms are not large, but they are prolific, they have a long bloom period beginning in mid-summer, and they are appealing to bees, butterflies, and other pollinators. In 2015 we planted three of these in the A2 bed in a location that is not ideal (too much shade), but they have thrived and steadily expanded. My intent is to plant these comparable 4-6' tall sunflowers in the M2 bed, replacing an old rose bush that has served primarily as a food source for Japanese beetles. This location next to the garden’s south-facing wall should be a good space for the sun-loving, drought tolerant Helianthus. In the middle of this M2 bed, we’ll plant several ‘Summer Nights’–a Z3 Heliopsis cultivar known for the bloom’s rich color combination and a long bloom time. We will also need a shorter, front-of-the border plant to complement these sunflowers. If we can’t settle on a permanent perennial, we might use that space for a patch of zinnias.
• Hellebores. Although I suspect few garden visitors pay much attention to them, we have a small colony of Lenten Roses in the shady southeast corner of the garden, not far from the wind chimes. This spring we’ll add six more hellebores to the collection: three Wedding Party cultivars (double-flowed yellow, pink, white, purple and black blossoms) and three Rome in Red (bearing single, 3-4” wine red blossoms).
• Cranesbill. Of all the cranesbill growing throughout the garden, the most impressive have been the Geranium Rozanne located at the front of “F” border. The blossoms are equal in beauty to the highly esteemed Johnson’s Blue cranesbill in the “D” bed, but the Rozanne do not become leggy or floppy, and their bloom period lasts from late spring until autumn. I ordered three more Rozanne–plus four Geranium wallichianum ‘Rosetta” cultivars: a front-of-border cranesbill reputed to be a long bloomer with 2" lavender-pink blooms.
• Dianthus Firewitch. We currently have a Firewitch at the front of the “D” bed and last summer we added two more dianthus started from seed in the greenhouse. This spring we’ll plant three more Firewitch, giving that stretch of walkway a recurrent sequence of these marvelous pinks: lovely blooms, lovely foliage, requiring virtually no care–other than a trimming after their summer bloom cycle.
• Sempervivum. A problem with the rock and crevice gardens is that several sedums have become too successful, over-running less assertive residents. This spring we’ll remove several of these aggressors and replace with new varieties of hens & chicks--Sempervivum 'Pacific Blue Ice,' Sempervivum ‘Gold Nugget,’ Sempervivum 'Kalinda,' Sempervivum Moss Rose,' Sempervivum 'Ruby Heart.'
• Leptinella squalida ‘Platt's Black’. Commonly called brass buttons, this native of New Zealand is a rhizomatous, mat-forming perennial grown for its fern-like black leaves. We’ll experiment with it as a ground cover candidate behind a couple of the park benches. It does produce tiny, button-like yellow flowers (which resemble sunflowers–and the Leptinella is related to the sunflower family), but the foliage is the primary attraction. I also ordered a Mazus Reptans that has similar ground cover characteristics and will also be used behind a park bench.
• Astrantia. One flower common to English gardens that we have not had in the Alumni House Garden is an Astrantia. Last fall we cleaned up the berm south of the rain garden–opening up space for several new perennials. Although the area does not receive much direct sunlight–except for the late afternoon–we’ll try an Astrantia Roma. This cultivar was developed in the Netherlands in the 1990s and according to the Bluestone catalog is a long bloomer that should do well in an “open woodland” or a “sun-dappled area below open trees.” Let us hope that matches with the area we have in mind.
• Miscellaneous Plants. Of course, I ordered more plants than we have room for, so it’s unclear at the moment where the following purchases may eventually reside:
--Baptisia Solar Flare. This is a yellow-flowered version of the blue-flowered false indigo found in several Alumni House garden beds.
--Swizzle Blue Phlox. Several of the garden’s phlox have become swallowed up by other plants. This spring we’ll re-organize those older phlox with these new arrivals and create 2-3 phlox safety zones.
–Mum Yellow Starlet. Two of the mums we planted at the west end of the “I” bed have disappeared, so we may try these at the east end of the “I” bed, near the Hy-Vee bargain mums that have done so well--though, regrettably, they wait until October to start blooming.
--Veronica Blue Bomb. We have had mixed results with veronicas so we’ll try this new front-of-the border variety. It should have a long bloom period through the summer, producing hundreds of amethyst-blue, Astilbe-like flower spikes.
--Waldsteinia Fragarioides. In 2015 we planted several of these barren strawberries at the west end of the “K” bed. They have slowly expanded and produced an attractive ground cover, accompanied by lovely yellow blossoms for a couple of weeks each spring. We’ll add these new arrivals to the existing congregation.
–Two Anemone cultivars. Three Anemone Pocahontas should be a good front-of-the-border option, producing frilly double pink flowers beginning in late summer when most of the flowers in the garden are past their prime. Anemone Andrea Atkinson is a taller Z5 perennial with white blossoms, yellow stamens, and chartreuse centers; it’s probably a candidate for the “F” bed, which has several other late-blooming white flowers.
Photo below: in the crevice garden an Iris reticulata, the Alumni House Garden's first bloom of 2019.
When I did my first walk around the Alumni House Garden this morning, it was a tale of two cities. The north side of the garden was basking in early morning sunlight, the flower beds free of snow, the gravel walkways wet and soggy. Rising to meet the sun-drenched air were hundreds of green, yellow, and red shoots of daffodils and tulips. In contrast, the south side was still in the shadows of the garden’s brick and cedar wall, the gravel walkways still frozen, large patches of ice and snow covering the flower beds, only a few daffodil spears barely above the surface. Three hours later, however, the temperature had risen to 40F, and the entire garden gave the impression spring would prevail. While we might observe a few more March and April battles, the tide of the war has shifted. The garden’s south side still has patches of snow and ice, but most of the walkways are now soft and springy, the garden’s world becoming in the words of e. e. cummings “mud-luscious” and “puddle wonderful.”
In my February 18 MMGR I discussed several plants that had been ordered and will be added to the garden’s collection later this spring. Here are comments on more newcomers that should be in the garden by the middle of May.
• Ornamental Grasses. I ordered six varieties of grasses: 3 switch grasses (Panicum Cloud Nine, Panicum Rotstrahlbusch, Panicum North Wind) and three miscanthus (Huron Sunrise, Red Arrow, and Zebrinus). In 2015 I planted several unidentified switch grass cultivars at the east end of the garden and they have done beautifully. Perhaps we can establish a similar group in the “D” bed on the south side of the garden. At home, I have a short row of Rotstrahlbusch that have been very impressive, remaining upright and unbowed throughout the heavy snows of January and February. As for the miscanthus, I hope to use the Huron Sunrise and Red Arrow to collaborate with three miscanthus we planted in 2015 that have effectively ingratiated themselves on the north side of the garden. As for the Zebrinus, we’ll use it in the “L” bed to balance another established Zebrinus in the “C” bed.
• Hemerocallis. One of the major changes in the garden in the past five years is the removal of the rose bushes and New England asters that were the primary perennials in the “C” and “L” beds east of the patio–replaced by over 35 different varieties of daylilies and alliums. This spring we will continue that transformation by replacing the last of the rose bushes with several new daylilies, emphasizing early and mid-season daylilies with large 5-6" blossoms.
--'Always Afternoon': The catalog describes these daylilies as having 5" raspberry-pink blooms with yellow-chartreuse eyes; this recipient of the prestigious Stout Award from the American Hemerocallis Society should start blooming in early June.
--'Calico Jack': Early to mid-season bright yellow 6” blossoms with green throat and plum-red ruffled edges and matching eye. Each stem should produce numerous blossoms.
--'Forty Second Street': Mid-season pastel-pink double 5" blossoms with a rosy eye and yellow throat.
--'Joan Senior': An early to mid-season daylily producing near-white 6" flowers; reputed to have an extended bloom period.
--'Moonlit Masquerade': The 6" blooms combine burgundy and ivory petals with a green throat.
--'Simmons Overture': Has the reputation as a super bloomer, producing 6" lavender-rose flowers with plum eyes and matching ruffled edges.
--'Storm of the Century': Catalog photos show purple petals edged with golden-ivory ruffles and white streaks from the throat to the edge of the petals.
I ordered at least three of each variety, but we don’t have space for 21 new daylilies in the “C” and “L” beds, so we’ll probably remove some Stella d’oros located in other beds and increase the diversity of cultivars throughout the garden.
• Helianthus microcephalus. This is a Zone 4 rhizomatous, perennial sunflower native to the Midwest. The golden 1" daisy-like blooms are not large, but they are prolific, they have a long bloom period beginning in mid-summer, and they are appealing to bees, butterflies, and other pollinators. In 2015 we planted three of these in the A2 bed in a location that is not ideal (too much shade), but they have thrived and steadily expanded. My intent is to plant these comparable 4-6' tall sunflowers in the M2 bed, replacing an old rose bush that has served primarily as a food source for Japanese beetles. This location next to the garden’s south-facing wall should be a good space for the sun-loving, drought tolerant Helianthus. In the middle of this M2 bed, we’ll plant several ‘Summer Nights’–a Z3 Heliopsis cultivar known for the bloom’s rich color combination and a long bloom time. We will also need a shorter, front-of-the border plant to complement these sunflowers. If we can’t settle on a permanent perennial, we might use that space for a patch of zinnias.
• Hellebores. Although I suspect few garden visitors pay much attention to them, we have a small colony of Lenten Roses in the shady southeast corner of the garden, not far from the wind chimes. This spring we’ll add six more hellebores to the collection: three Wedding Party cultivars (double-flowed yellow, pink, white, purple and black blossoms) and three Rome in Red (bearing single, 3-4” wine red blossoms).
• Cranesbill. Of all the cranesbill growing throughout the garden, the most impressive have been the Geranium Rozanne located at the front of “F” border. The blossoms are equal in beauty to the highly esteemed Johnson’s Blue cranesbill in the “D” bed, but the Rozanne do not become leggy or floppy, and their bloom period lasts from late spring until autumn. I ordered three more Rozanne–plus four Geranium wallichianum ‘Rosetta” cultivars: a front-of-border cranesbill reputed to be a long bloomer with 2" lavender-pink blooms.
• Dianthus Firewitch. We currently have a Firewitch at the front of the “D” bed and last summer we added two more dianthus started from seed in the greenhouse. This spring we’ll plant three more Firewitch, giving that stretch of walkway a recurrent sequence of these marvelous pinks: lovely blooms, lovely foliage, requiring virtually no care–other than a trimming after their summer bloom cycle.
• Sempervivum. A problem with the rock and crevice gardens is that several sedums have become too successful, over-running less assertive residents. This spring we’ll remove several of these aggressors and replace with new varieties of hens & chicks--Sempervivum 'Pacific Blue Ice,' Sempervivum ‘Gold Nugget,’ Sempervivum 'Kalinda,' Sempervivum Moss Rose,' Sempervivum 'Ruby Heart.'
• Leptinella squalida ‘Platt's Black’. Commonly called brass buttons, this native of New Zealand is a rhizomatous, mat-forming perennial grown for its fern-like black leaves. We’ll experiment with it as a ground cover candidate behind a couple of the park benches. It does produce tiny, button-like yellow flowers (which resemble sunflowers–and the Leptinella is related to the sunflower family), but the foliage is the primary attraction. I also ordered a Mazus Reptans that has similar ground cover characteristics and will also be used behind a park bench.
• Astrantia. One flower common to English gardens that we have not had in the Alumni House Garden is an Astrantia. Last fall we cleaned up the berm south of the rain garden–opening up space for several new perennials. Although the area does not receive much direct sunlight–except for the late afternoon–we’ll try an Astrantia Roma. This cultivar was developed in the Netherlands in the 1990s and according to the Bluestone catalog is a long bloomer that should do well in an “open woodland” or a “sun-dappled area below open trees.” Let us hope that matches with the area we have in mind.
• Miscellaneous Plants. Of course, I ordered more plants than we have room for, so it’s unclear at the moment where the following purchases may eventually reside:
--Baptisia Solar Flare. This is a yellow-flowered version of the blue-flowered false indigo found in several Alumni House garden beds.
--Swizzle Blue Phlox. Several of the garden’s phlox have become swallowed up by other plants. This spring we’ll re-organize those older phlox with these new arrivals and create 2-3 phlox safety zones.
–Mum Yellow Starlet. Two of the mums we planted at the west end of the “I” bed have disappeared, so we may try these at the east end of the “I” bed, near the Hy-Vee bargain mums that have done so well--though, regrettably, they wait until October to start blooming.
--Veronica Blue Bomb. We have had mixed results with veronicas so we’ll try this new front-of-the border variety. It should have a long bloom period through the summer, producing hundreds of amethyst-blue, Astilbe-like flower spikes.
--Waldsteinia Fragarioides. In 2015 we planted several of these barren strawberries at the west end of the “K” bed. They have slowly expanded and produced an attractive ground cover, accompanied by lovely yellow blossoms for a couple of weeks each spring. We’ll add these new arrivals to the existing congregation.
–Two Anemone cultivars. Three Anemone Pocahontas should be a good front-of-the-border option, producing frilly double pink flowers beginning in late summer when most of the flowers in the garden are past their prime. Anemone Andrea Atkinson is a taller Z5 perennial with white blossoms, yellow stamens, and chartreuse centers; it’s probably a candidate for the “F” bed, which has several other late-blooming white flowers.
Photo below: in the crevice garden an Iris reticulata, the Alumni House Garden's first bloom of 2019.
Monday Morning Garden Report: 11 March 2019
After a two-week RV camping trip to Georgia, it was good to be back at the Alum Garden this morning. During our trip we had periodically checked Iowa weather reports, and thus I was not surprised the garden looked much the same as when we left: a thick rug of snow over most of the garden, and long patches of slick ice covering the gravel walkway. I remain optimistic the spring thaw is just around the bend, but for now most of my gardening efforts remain in the “in-the-garden-shed-prep” phase.
Since we have a variety of plants residing in the greenhouse (rosemary, parsley, dianthus, kniphofia, kale, four Christmas cactus, several sedum seedlings, a pot of scallions, several pots with blossoming calendula, a large planter with the herb nepitella and more calendula), one of my first tasks this morning was hauling in fresh water. While the garden’s faucets are shut off for the winter, I depend on the Alumni House for our water supply. This morning I carried out eight gallons of water in our 2-gallon jugs. I also set up a small display case in the Alumni House foyer with copies of the first three issues of The Garden Quarto.
As for work in the garden, my biggest achievement was cleaning out the gazebo. In November I had stored several weed barrier fabrics in the gazebo after removing them from the lawn areas, where they had been used to help kill off the wild mixture of grass, sedge, dandelions, crabgrass, purslane, and other stuff that had taken over the garden quad. This morning I transferred those rolled up fabrics to the old portable greenhouse--which also needs cleaning out. But that job will wait until later this spring. Fortunately, today’s temp was in the low 40s and the weather was perfect for cleaning the gazebo furniture and sweeping out the apple leaves, oak leaves, miscanthus stems, and purple love grass seed heads (the Alum Garden’s source of our miniature tumbling tumbleweeds). The gazebo does a wonderful job of capturing the warmth of the morning sun, and I was tempted to sit down, open up my back pack, and spend a few minutes reading. But instead I kept working.
One other morning task was clearing the path to the NW garden gate. This morning was supposed to be the first day when the garden would be open on a daily basis (9-5, M-F) for any visitors. Of course, it usually takes Security a few days to add the gate unlocking/locking routine to their schedule, but this morning it would have been difficult to reach the gate because of the snow pack. So I grabbed our handy snow shovel and cleared a path from the sidewalk to the gate. Although the gate’s padlock was frozen, a couple shots of WD40 did the trick. Not sure anyone would want to navigate the walkways around the patio–they are covered with ice and very slippery–but once you reach the quad, the walkways receive more direct sunshine and are reasonably safe, though water-logged and mushy. For now there is no where for the water to go. ~Bob
After a two-week RV camping trip to Georgia, it was good to be back at the Alum Garden this morning. During our trip we had periodically checked Iowa weather reports, and thus I was not surprised the garden looked much the same as when we left: a thick rug of snow over most of the garden, and long patches of slick ice covering the gravel walkway. I remain optimistic the spring thaw is just around the bend, but for now most of my gardening efforts remain in the “in-the-garden-shed-prep” phase.
Since we have a variety of plants residing in the greenhouse (rosemary, parsley, dianthus, kniphofia, kale, four Christmas cactus, several sedum seedlings, a pot of scallions, several pots with blossoming calendula, a large planter with the herb nepitella and more calendula), one of my first tasks this morning was hauling in fresh water. While the garden’s faucets are shut off for the winter, I depend on the Alumni House for our water supply. This morning I carried out eight gallons of water in our 2-gallon jugs. I also set up a small display case in the Alumni House foyer with copies of the first three issues of The Garden Quarto.
As for work in the garden, my biggest achievement was cleaning out the gazebo. In November I had stored several weed barrier fabrics in the gazebo after removing them from the lawn areas, where they had been used to help kill off the wild mixture of grass, sedge, dandelions, crabgrass, purslane, and other stuff that had taken over the garden quad. This morning I transferred those rolled up fabrics to the old portable greenhouse--which also needs cleaning out. But that job will wait until later this spring. Fortunately, today’s temp was in the low 40s and the weather was perfect for cleaning the gazebo furniture and sweeping out the apple leaves, oak leaves, miscanthus stems, and purple love grass seed heads (the Alum Garden’s source of our miniature tumbling tumbleweeds). The gazebo does a wonderful job of capturing the warmth of the morning sun, and I was tempted to sit down, open up my back pack, and spend a few minutes reading. But instead I kept working.
One other morning task was clearing the path to the NW garden gate. This morning was supposed to be the first day when the garden would be open on a daily basis (9-5, M-F) for any visitors. Of course, it usually takes Security a few days to add the gate unlocking/locking routine to their schedule, but this morning it would have been difficult to reach the gate because of the snow pack. So I grabbed our handy snow shovel and cleared a path from the sidewalk to the gate. Although the gate’s padlock was frozen, a couple shots of WD40 did the trick. Not sure anyone would want to navigate the walkways around the patio–they are covered with ice and very slippery–but once you reach the quad, the walkways receive more direct sunshine and are reasonably safe, though water-logged and mushy. For now there is no where for the water to go. ~Bob
Monday Morning Garden Report: Week of 18-23 February 2019
On 22 Feb at 3:10 pm, according to our Oregon Instruments thermometer, it’s 34F outside and 69F in the greenhouse. Because of the sunshine, the greenhouse has been a comfortable working space most of the day. But the sun has just set behind the Alumni House, and once the temperature drops below 60, the space heater will re-ignite. Given the extremely cold temperatures we have had the past month–and the greenhouse’s minimal insulation–the little space heater has been busy in recent weeks. But so far we’ve always kept the temp above 45F, and the plants currently in the greenhouse are all doing well: five Christmas cactus, several new sedums, our lone kniphofia, two rosemary bushes, the herb nepitella, a French tarragon, a large dianthus (preparing to bloom), several calendula, a half dozen pots with 3-week old parsley, two small pots with garlic chives, and two planters with kale and lettuce.
Meanwhile, out in the garden, we have a solid, deep snow cover. After we dug out the primary walkway paths (the third time in the last week), I measured the depth of the snow in several locations. A portion of the walkway in all-day shade has snow 12-18" deep. In other areas–because of the sun’s warmth and prevailing winds–the snow is less than 6" deep. Some of the yews are weighed down with large mounds of snow, but the snow should help protect them from drying out. One row of yews looked stressed by the loads of snow, but shortly after I brushed off most of the snow, the yew limbs bounced back, apparently unharmed by their extra burden.
In addition to the yews, it’s interesting to note the plants apparently unbowed by the snow. One surprise is the Sweet Annie, an annual that freely seeds itself along the walkway south of the patio. I originally planted this artemisia because of its fragrance. The foliage is reasonably attractive, but the flowers are very tiny and not particularly noteworthy–except, I’m sure, in the eyes of a botanist. But their dead stems have had no problem dealing with 18" snow drifts, their tan branches looking quite perky against the clean, white background. I’m also impressed by the tall stonecrop. Their reddish-brown seed heads appear perfectly designed for inhabiting a field of snow (see photo at the end of this report).
Because of the recurrent and lasting snow episodes since the middle of January, most of our gardening work has been indoors. One notable achievement is that we cleaned, sanded, and applied four coats of polyurethane to the greenhouse garden bench. A recurrent problem with the greenhouse is that water drips down on the work area, caused by moisture condensing on the plexiglass ceiling. Fortunately, we had a relatively dry atmosphere when applying the first two coats, but shortly after applying the third coat, the sun came out, the greenhouse experienced a big spike in temperature, and water droplets came raining down onto the wet polyurethane. Not a desirable mix, creating hundreds of blisters. The next day, we sanded down the coat, removing the most pronounced bubbles and then waited until the evening to apply a 4th coat. That coat dried beautifully, and we now have a work area reasonably impervious to accidental spills and greenhouse rain clouds.
One other focus for this month has been ordering flower seeds and plants for the garden. Most of our plant orders have been with Bluestone Perennials, located in Madison, Ohio. We didn’t order any plants from Bluestone last year, but we ordered several dozen the year before. I was impressed by the quality of the plants, their packaging (they come in pots that decompose when planted in the soil), and their survival rate. This year Bluestone’s February discount offerings (50% off for 40 different plants each week) have included several cultivars that should work well in our perennial flower beds. Here is a quick summary of several plants purchased so far this month:
Delosperma congestum ‘Gold Nugget’ Hardy Ice Plant. This will be my third attempt to find an ice plant that will flourish in the rock garden. The first two ice plants looked great during their first summer, but neither survived the winter. This Delosperma can supposedly handle Z4 winters, assuming the soil has good drainage. While we have had some successes in the rock garden (creeping speedwell, German thyme, several sedums, moss phlox), we don’t have any inhabitants that have kept blooming through the summer. I’m hoping this ice plant might fill the fill.
Echinacea Cleopatra. This is another Z4 perennial. While we have many Echinacea throughout the garden, I could not resist the photographs of this fragrant cultivar with its vibrant golden yellow petals surrounding a distinctive orange center. I would never buy one Echinacea for $16, but three plants for $24 seemed worth the gamble.
Hemerocallis Double River Wye Daylily. I bought three of these two years ago and planted them along the fence on the south side of the garden. They don’t receive sufficient sun, but they have managed to do okay, producing lovely yellow blooms. I decided to purchase two more River Wyes and plant them with their older siblings, hoping they will help fill in that bed. Two other daylilies I purchased are ‘Forty Second Street’ (a re-bloomer with pastel, peach-pink double 5" blossoms) and ‘Always Afternoon’ (a Stout Award winner with large raspberry pink blooms–and a yellow/chartreuse eye). I hope these newcomers will fit into the north end of the daylily bed directly in front of the patio. They will be replacing some New England asters and several old rose bushes (a favorite hangout for the Japanese beetles).
Three Tricyrtis cultivars: ‘Tojen,’ ‘Gilt Edge,’ and Sinonome. Among my favorite plants in the garden are the toad lilies, which like shade and produce unique, gorgeous flowers in late summer. Currently we just have a small patch located behind the park bench in the northwest corner of the garden. I intend to plant these Tricyrtis–three of each variety–under the flowering crab in the southeast corner, near the wind chimes. The hellebores have done well in that area, and I’m inclined to think the Tricyrtis newcomers will also find that space amenable.
On 22 Feb at 3:10 pm, according to our Oregon Instruments thermometer, it’s 34F outside and 69F in the greenhouse. Because of the sunshine, the greenhouse has been a comfortable working space most of the day. But the sun has just set behind the Alumni House, and once the temperature drops below 60, the space heater will re-ignite. Given the extremely cold temperatures we have had the past month–and the greenhouse’s minimal insulation–the little space heater has been busy in recent weeks. But so far we’ve always kept the temp above 45F, and the plants currently in the greenhouse are all doing well: five Christmas cactus, several new sedums, our lone kniphofia, two rosemary bushes, the herb nepitella, a French tarragon, a large dianthus (preparing to bloom), several calendula, a half dozen pots with 3-week old parsley, two small pots with garlic chives, and two planters with kale and lettuce.
Meanwhile, out in the garden, we have a solid, deep snow cover. After we dug out the primary walkway paths (the third time in the last week), I measured the depth of the snow in several locations. A portion of the walkway in all-day shade has snow 12-18" deep. In other areas–because of the sun’s warmth and prevailing winds–the snow is less than 6" deep. Some of the yews are weighed down with large mounds of snow, but the snow should help protect them from drying out. One row of yews looked stressed by the loads of snow, but shortly after I brushed off most of the snow, the yew limbs bounced back, apparently unharmed by their extra burden.
In addition to the yews, it’s interesting to note the plants apparently unbowed by the snow. One surprise is the Sweet Annie, an annual that freely seeds itself along the walkway south of the patio. I originally planted this artemisia because of its fragrance. The foliage is reasonably attractive, but the flowers are very tiny and not particularly noteworthy–except, I’m sure, in the eyes of a botanist. But their dead stems have had no problem dealing with 18" snow drifts, their tan branches looking quite perky against the clean, white background. I’m also impressed by the tall stonecrop. Their reddish-brown seed heads appear perfectly designed for inhabiting a field of snow (see photo at the end of this report).
Because of the recurrent and lasting snow episodes since the middle of January, most of our gardening work has been indoors. One notable achievement is that we cleaned, sanded, and applied four coats of polyurethane to the greenhouse garden bench. A recurrent problem with the greenhouse is that water drips down on the work area, caused by moisture condensing on the plexiglass ceiling. Fortunately, we had a relatively dry atmosphere when applying the first two coats, but shortly after applying the third coat, the sun came out, the greenhouse experienced a big spike in temperature, and water droplets came raining down onto the wet polyurethane. Not a desirable mix, creating hundreds of blisters. The next day, we sanded down the coat, removing the most pronounced bubbles and then waited until the evening to apply a 4th coat. That coat dried beautifully, and we now have a work area reasonably impervious to accidental spills and greenhouse rain clouds.
One other focus for this month has been ordering flower seeds and plants for the garden. Most of our plant orders have been with Bluestone Perennials, located in Madison, Ohio. We didn’t order any plants from Bluestone last year, but we ordered several dozen the year before. I was impressed by the quality of the plants, their packaging (they come in pots that decompose when planted in the soil), and their survival rate. This year Bluestone’s February discount offerings (50% off for 40 different plants each week) have included several cultivars that should work well in our perennial flower beds. Here is a quick summary of several plants purchased so far this month:
Delosperma congestum ‘Gold Nugget’ Hardy Ice Plant. This will be my third attempt to find an ice plant that will flourish in the rock garden. The first two ice plants looked great during their first summer, but neither survived the winter. This Delosperma can supposedly handle Z4 winters, assuming the soil has good drainage. While we have had some successes in the rock garden (creeping speedwell, German thyme, several sedums, moss phlox), we don’t have any inhabitants that have kept blooming through the summer. I’m hoping this ice plant might fill the fill.
Echinacea Cleopatra. This is another Z4 perennial. While we have many Echinacea throughout the garden, I could not resist the photographs of this fragrant cultivar with its vibrant golden yellow petals surrounding a distinctive orange center. I would never buy one Echinacea for $16, but three plants for $24 seemed worth the gamble.
Hemerocallis Double River Wye Daylily. I bought three of these two years ago and planted them along the fence on the south side of the garden. They don’t receive sufficient sun, but they have managed to do okay, producing lovely yellow blooms. I decided to purchase two more River Wyes and plant them with their older siblings, hoping they will help fill in that bed. Two other daylilies I purchased are ‘Forty Second Street’ (a re-bloomer with pastel, peach-pink double 5" blossoms) and ‘Always Afternoon’ (a Stout Award winner with large raspberry pink blooms–and a yellow/chartreuse eye). I hope these newcomers will fit into the north end of the daylily bed directly in front of the patio. They will be replacing some New England asters and several old rose bushes (a favorite hangout for the Japanese beetles).
Three Tricyrtis cultivars: ‘Tojen,’ ‘Gilt Edge,’ and Sinonome. Among my favorite plants in the garden are the toad lilies, which like shade and produce unique, gorgeous flowers in late summer. Currently we just have a small patch located behind the park bench in the northwest corner of the garden. I intend to plant these Tricyrtis–three of each variety–under the flowering crab in the southeast corner, near the wind chimes. The hellebores have done well in that area, and I’m inclined to think the Tricyrtis newcomers will also find that space amenable.
Monday Morning Garden Report: 2 January 2019
Edward Augustus Bowles is known as one of England’s greatest gardeners from the late Victorian and Edwardian era. The only book of his that I have read is My Garden in Summer, which begins with the sentence, “Spring is ever present in any garden, where tender young growth and promise of flower are continually springing from the ground.” This morning (Wednesday, 2 January) I was frequently thinking about Bowles’ remark concerning spring’s eternal presence. The first view of the Alumni House Garden certainly suggests a landscape under winter’s siege, dominated by a uniform palette of reddish/brown and gray tones spread across this walled landscape. But a closer inspection frequently reveals hints of resistance, recurrent pockets of fresh growth, evidence of many plants’ resilient commitment to spring. Even without taking into consideration all that may be happening below the surface, there’s no problem finding dozens of different specimens sticking their noses in the air, prepared to catch the first whiff of post-winter weather. Here are some spring-time reminders I observed on this early January morning, the frozen garden beds covered with a thin veneer of snow.
• Bloody Cranesbill: these hardy geraniums have many green, lobed leaves, hugging the soil; a similar pattern with the lady’s mantle, their neighbors along the border near the patio. I recently saw an episode of Vera, the British TV detective series, where Vera was shocked that no other member of her detective squad could recognize the Alchemilla mollis (lady’s mantle) next to the victim’s dead body, evidence that she had been killed at a different location.
• Spurge: rosettes of new reddish-green stems and leaves, tightly packed together, waiting to explode; Bailey’s Hortus III claims there are over 1,600 species of euphorbia herbs, shrubs, and trees (including E. pulcherrima, the ever popular Christmas poinsettia); I am not certain what hardy species is expanding its turf in the AHG, but I suspect it’s an E. polychroma (Cushion spurge, with its showy, spring-time, sulphur-yellow bracts) or a close relative.
• Chrysanthemum: our Hy-Vee mums, purchased in the fall of ‘14, are the last flowers to open up in the fall, soon followed by the emergence of new green leaves at their base.
• Penstemon: most of the native, North American penstemon in the garden are Husker Reds, a Penstemon digitalis cultivar developed at the University of Nebraska; their newest, dark burgundy leaves appear primed and ready for action, even in the sub-freezing temperatures; these are plants with year-around appeal.
• Love-in-a-mist (Nigella damascena): dozens of fresh, tiny green seedlings of this Mediterranean annual, resembling a small Queen Anne’s Lace; I think all the seedlings that germinated in the fall of 2017 were eventually killed off by January’s sub-zero temperatures, but so far this year’s crop appears to be doing okay.
• Creeping Veronica Speedwell: in the rock garden it looks fresh year around; same is true for several sedums–such as the hen and chicks in both the rock and crevice gardens–and the Snow-in-Summer (Cerastium tomentosum, a native of Sicily but capable of thriving north of the Arctic Circle).
• Hollyhocks: the large green leaves are limp and beaten down, but they still retain a fresh-looking green and will re-assert themselves with warmer weather.
• Lamb’s Ear: many leaves are crusted over with ice and snow, but the newest silver-green leaves of the Stachys byzantia ‘Countess Helene von Stein’ appear undaunted; the transplants that I spread to new locations last summer look particularly fresh and hardy, suggesting that I should divide and replant the original ‘von Stein,’ purchased in the spring of 2015.
• Columbine: while last year’s foliage is a desiccated brown or gray, several columbine have small clumps of fresh, green, clover-like leaves at their base.
• 'Route 66' Coreopsis: clearing away this year’s dead foliage, I found a thicket of small, fern-like leaves at the base, similar to the clumps of Anthemis tinctoria ‘E. C. Buxton Golden Marguerite’ (just a few feet away in the “I” bed) and the young tansy (Tanacetum vulgare) on the opposite side of the garden; as one might suspect, the coreopsis, anthemis, and tansy are all members of the aster family.
• Ox-Eye Daisies: the east end of the garden has hundreds of clumps of dark green leaves, patiently waiting for the return of spring-time warmth.
• Spiderwort: all over the garden are 2-5" bluish-green spears of individual Tradescantia virginiana.
• Hellebores: their green leaves look bedraggled and worn out, but they will hold on until early spring, when these lenten roses begin blooming.
• Strawberries: the leaves of both the wild strawberries from Minnesota and the barren strawberries (Waldsteinia fragarioide) are attempting to provide a modest ground cover, similar to the bugleweeds (Ajuga reptans) planted behind the NW and NE garden benches.
• Rue (Ruta graveolens): most of the leaves of the rue in the herb garden look limp and defeated, but close to the main stalk are a few alert, bluish-green leaves.
• Sedge: the sedge along the eastern border of the rain garden looks about the same, regardless of the season; a task facing me this spring or early summer is to dig up that bed and separate the expansive sedge from its neighbor, the flag iris.
• Flag Iris and Siberian Iris: every iris bed has shoots of fresh 1-3" tall blades, perhaps functioning as plant thermometers, tracking the conditions above ground; also true for several daylilies, though most of them are hiding under last year’s dead foliage.
• Daffodils: hundreds of daffodil shoots, modestly poking above the surface, in areas that receive the most sun; many have emerged in the last 2-3 weeks, inspired by our unusually warm December; the spring snowflakes (Leucojum vernum) under the flowering crab in the NW corner have also produced many green shoots eager for the spring.
• Scabiosa Pin Cushion: I’m always surprised how green and fresh these small plants look at this time of year; same is true for the dianthus in the “C” bed and several small salvias (including two clumps of an unidentified salvia in the “L” bed).
• Alliums: many of the ornamental alliums sent out new leaves in the late summer and fall; they will regain their turgidity once the temperatures remain above freezing.
• Grape Hyacinths: they lose all their foliage in the summer and then re-emerge early in the fall, I presume engaged in some modest photosynthetic activity in preparation for the spring flowering.
• Peonies: most of the peonies’ reddish-tipped buds are safely secured below ground level, but some are easily uncovered if I rake away the leaf litter.
• Weeds: found one large thistle that had escaped my hoe this fall (see photo at end of this report); also several dandelions that had been protected by friendly neighbors (e.g., dandelions around a Siberian Iris I trimmed last week); the most common weed in the flower beds is, I think, a groundsel, a species almost certainly in the aster family; it does have rather attractive, ground-hugging reddish/green foliage during the winter.
Final comment: one special delight of my morning walk was the fragrance generated by rubbing my hands through the Sweet Annie (Artemisia annua) and the English Thyme along the “A” bed gravel walkway. Although the Sweet Annie looks like an undesirable brown weed, its fragrance is divine, providing a wonderful olfactory reward, regardless of the season. ~Bob
Edward Augustus Bowles is known as one of England’s greatest gardeners from the late Victorian and Edwardian era. The only book of his that I have read is My Garden in Summer, which begins with the sentence, “Spring is ever present in any garden, where tender young growth and promise of flower are continually springing from the ground.” This morning (Wednesday, 2 January) I was frequently thinking about Bowles’ remark concerning spring’s eternal presence. The first view of the Alumni House Garden certainly suggests a landscape under winter’s siege, dominated by a uniform palette of reddish/brown and gray tones spread across this walled landscape. But a closer inspection frequently reveals hints of resistance, recurrent pockets of fresh growth, evidence of many plants’ resilient commitment to spring. Even without taking into consideration all that may be happening below the surface, there’s no problem finding dozens of different specimens sticking their noses in the air, prepared to catch the first whiff of post-winter weather. Here are some spring-time reminders I observed on this early January morning, the frozen garden beds covered with a thin veneer of snow.
• Bloody Cranesbill: these hardy geraniums have many green, lobed leaves, hugging the soil; a similar pattern with the lady’s mantle, their neighbors along the border near the patio. I recently saw an episode of Vera, the British TV detective series, where Vera was shocked that no other member of her detective squad could recognize the Alchemilla mollis (lady’s mantle) next to the victim’s dead body, evidence that she had been killed at a different location.
• Spurge: rosettes of new reddish-green stems and leaves, tightly packed together, waiting to explode; Bailey’s Hortus III claims there are over 1,600 species of euphorbia herbs, shrubs, and trees (including E. pulcherrima, the ever popular Christmas poinsettia); I am not certain what hardy species is expanding its turf in the AHG, but I suspect it’s an E. polychroma (Cushion spurge, with its showy, spring-time, sulphur-yellow bracts) or a close relative.
• Chrysanthemum: our Hy-Vee mums, purchased in the fall of ‘14, are the last flowers to open up in the fall, soon followed by the emergence of new green leaves at their base.
• Penstemon: most of the native, North American penstemon in the garden are Husker Reds, a Penstemon digitalis cultivar developed at the University of Nebraska; their newest, dark burgundy leaves appear primed and ready for action, even in the sub-freezing temperatures; these are plants with year-around appeal.
• Love-in-a-mist (Nigella damascena): dozens of fresh, tiny green seedlings of this Mediterranean annual, resembling a small Queen Anne’s Lace; I think all the seedlings that germinated in the fall of 2017 were eventually killed off by January’s sub-zero temperatures, but so far this year’s crop appears to be doing okay.
• Creeping Veronica Speedwell: in the rock garden it looks fresh year around; same is true for several sedums–such as the hen and chicks in both the rock and crevice gardens–and the Snow-in-Summer (Cerastium tomentosum, a native of Sicily but capable of thriving north of the Arctic Circle).
• Hollyhocks: the large green leaves are limp and beaten down, but they still retain a fresh-looking green and will re-assert themselves with warmer weather.
• Lamb’s Ear: many leaves are crusted over with ice and snow, but the newest silver-green leaves of the Stachys byzantia ‘Countess Helene von Stein’ appear undaunted; the transplants that I spread to new locations last summer look particularly fresh and hardy, suggesting that I should divide and replant the original ‘von Stein,’ purchased in the spring of 2015.
• Columbine: while last year’s foliage is a desiccated brown or gray, several columbine have small clumps of fresh, green, clover-like leaves at their base.
• 'Route 66' Coreopsis: clearing away this year’s dead foliage, I found a thicket of small, fern-like leaves at the base, similar to the clumps of Anthemis tinctoria ‘E. C. Buxton Golden Marguerite’ (just a few feet away in the “I” bed) and the young tansy (Tanacetum vulgare) on the opposite side of the garden; as one might suspect, the coreopsis, anthemis, and tansy are all members of the aster family.
• Ox-Eye Daisies: the east end of the garden has hundreds of clumps of dark green leaves, patiently waiting for the return of spring-time warmth.
• Spiderwort: all over the garden are 2-5" bluish-green spears of individual Tradescantia virginiana.
• Hellebores: their green leaves look bedraggled and worn out, but they will hold on until early spring, when these lenten roses begin blooming.
• Strawberries: the leaves of both the wild strawberries from Minnesota and the barren strawberries (Waldsteinia fragarioide) are attempting to provide a modest ground cover, similar to the bugleweeds (Ajuga reptans) planted behind the NW and NE garden benches.
• Rue (Ruta graveolens): most of the leaves of the rue in the herb garden look limp and defeated, but close to the main stalk are a few alert, bluish-green leaves.
• Sedge: the sedge along the eastern border of the rain garden looks about the same, regardless of the season; a task facing me this spring or early summer is to dig up that bed and separate the expansive sedge from its neighbor, the flag iris.
• Flag Iris and Siberian Iris: every iris bed has shoots of fresh 1-3" tall blades, perhaps functioning as plant thermometers, tracking the conditions above ground; also true for several daylilies, though most of them are hiding under last year’s dead foliage.
• Daffodils: hundreds of daffodil shoots, modestly poking above the surface, in areas that receive the most sun; many have emerged in the last 2-3 weeks, inspired by our unusually warm December; the spring snowflakes (Leucojum vernum) under the flowering crab in the NW corner have also produced many green shoots eager for the spring.
• Scabiosa Pin Cushion: I’m always surprised how green and fresh these small plants look at this time of year; same is true for the dianthus in the “C” bed and several small salvias (including two clumps of an unidentified salvia in the “L” bed).
• Alliums: many of the ornamental alliums sent out new leaves in the late summer and fall; they will regain their turgidity once the temperatures remain above freezing.
• Grape Hyacinths: they lose all their foliage in the summer and then re-emerge early in the fall, I presume engaged in some modest photosynthetic activity in preparation for the spring flowering.
• Peonies: most of the peonies’ reddish-tipped buds are safely secured below ground level, but some are easily uncovered if I rake away the leaf litter.
• Weeds: found one large thistle that had escaped my hoe this fall (see photo at end of this report); also several dandelions that had been protected by friendly neighbors (e.g., dandelions around a Siberian Iris I trimmed last week); the most common weed in the flower beds is, I think, a groundsel, a species almost certainly in the aster family; it does have rather attractive, ground-hugging reddish/green foliage during the winter.
Final comment: one special delight of my morning walk was the fragrance generated by rubbing my hands through the Sweet Annie (Artemisia annua) and the English Thyme along the “A” bed gravel walkway. Although the Sweet Annie looks like an undesirable brown weed, its fragrance is divine, providing a wonderful olfactory reward, regardless of the season. ~Bob