The Moon of the Bulbs

October is, if you're provident, a good time to plant bulbs, although you should really wait till November to plant tulips here. This year I was on the early side with my orders, and have planted the following to date:
96 chionodoxa (deep blue) in the corner garden among the oakleaf hydrangeas. No, it won't look quite like this picture, but my hope is that the corner will eventually be a sea of blue in early spring
6 fringed yellow tulips under the aucuba (golden echoes)
8 dozen more Tommy crocuses under the maple tree
2 dozen more English bluebells (hyancinthoides non-scripta) under the oak tree
4 dozen Scilla Siberica in the walkway garden

Still to be planted are General de Wet tulips (fragrant, orange, probably under the butterfly bush), and a mixture for the front door pot that I lifted from one of Emma T's columns (it's the In the Still of the Night collection). It is supposed to be a mysterious, elegant mix of black, cream and mauve tulips and hyacinths. We'll see.

Also planted are two flats of pansies and a flat of spinach in the raised bed.

Because of the impending Paris trip, I called Brent and Becky and asked them to ship the order right away. With any luck, I'll be able to get them all in the ground next weekend.

Satisfaction

A most satisfactory gardening morning today. Yesterday at Colesville I picked up three variegated liriope - mundane, I know, but finding things that will live under the dry shade of the maple tree is not easy. Plus, they are reliable and attractive. Got them planted, also a Begonia grandis 'Heron's Pirouette' that I couldn't resist. Plant Delights Nursery says, "While the triangular green foliage on the 15" clump is similar to the species, it is the huge and excessively large flower clusters of deep pink that set this selection apart." That went in by the fence along the terrace garden.


Five woodland asters are in search of a home, I'm sorry to say. They do well in dry shade, but they grow about two feet tall, higher than I was envisioning them. So instead of edging the white garden, they may end up under the oak tree...or among the oakleaf hydrangeas and hostas in the corner garden...or spilling over the wall along the walkway garden.

But most satisfactory of all was digging out the erstwhile cutting garden by the raised bed. This has been overgrown with gooseneck loosestrife and a creamy white perennial pea from Mom. Both are attractive for just a few weeks a year - not enough to justify them, sadly. So I uprooted the loosestrife (fully aware that the fleshy roots are still interspersed throughout the bed, but they're not hard to pull out), and cut the pea back so that it didn't look quite so tattered. Then expanded the bed just a bit to make a curve in front. The depth is about three feet along the straight edges, maybe up to five feet along the curve.
So, what to plant?

I'm mindful of the fact that my neighbors see this garden daily as they get in and out of their cars, so it's time to pull it together a bit more. I'd like to put in at least one shrub, maybe an evergreen (cherry laurel?) that won't get too big. Then perhaps a clematis for the trellis where the pea currently rules. Park the echinacea and Stokes asters there, too, until the sun bed starts to take shape.

I'm trying to plan in an orderly way. I've cut out graph paper in the shape of the bed and look forward to cutting out various plants and seeing how they look on the plan. Such an SJ I've become!

The groundhog did it!

I'd planted four little red Russian kales, very pretty and promising to provide good fall color in the raised bed (which mostly looks like hell right now), plus providing delicious home-grown kale (for heaven's sake). I have been watering them faithfully every day during the drought, and after a week in my care they were thriving.

Yesterday afternoon I spotted a groundhog in the back yard. I opened the back door to look more closely, and he lumbered quickly away (interesting how they do indeed lumber but move so fast). Guilty conscience??

An hour or so later, I wandered over to the raised bed to congratulate myself on the kale, only to shake my head in disbelief. Where did it go? It has been nibbled down to the ground, and I can only conclude that the mysterious ravager of my vegetable garden has been the groundhog all along. Wikipedia quotes the Cornell University Press as saying, "Mostly herbivorous, groundhogs primarily eat wild grasses and other vegetation, and berries and agricultural crops when available." Seems to fit the bill. Do not be fooled by the charm of the groundhog in the photo, they are clearly evil.

I remember that Mom, that pacifist, thought that shooting groundhogs was perfectly appropriate, although I think they hired trappers to take them away. As for my garden, it's time for some fencing!

Book report

The Collector's Garden: Designing with Extraordinary Plants by Ken Druse.

A look at the various kinds of plant collectors: aesthetes, specialists, missionaries and hunters, as he styles them. An overview of the gardens and gardeners is accompanied by gorgeous photos, including many close-ups of plants as well as the sweeps and drifts. The gardens are as extraordinary as the obsessed gardeners. I was particularly struck by three of them.

Lauren Springer (later Ogden) designed a garden in Denver that takes into account the severe weather and lack of rain. (Don't fight the site.) The resulting prairie/mountain garden has lots of plants that would work well in drought-ridden Virginia, I think. I loved the way she filled up every inch of her front yard with mostly low-growing plants.

Nancy Goodwin moved to Hillsborough, North Carolina, carefully selected as a good gardening location despite the heat and drought of the area. The photos here show a lush yet dry blue garden, and sweeps of orange, yellow and chartreuse set off by black sweet potato vine used as a groundcover. I love her saying that she'll kill a plant three times before giving up on it - moving it until it finds the right spot or she just moves on.

Wave Hill in the Bronx is one of the great North American gardens (not that I've seen it - yet). The emphasis, at least in this book, is on the late summer-early autumn garden, where leaf shape is just as important as color. This appeals to me because summer can be so hellacious here that you don't want to set foot in the garden. The onset of cooler weather, as we're having today, makes hope spring up again. And, of course, the autumnal plants like asters, grasses, salvias, sedums are beautiful in themselves.

So, taking an idea from Wave Hill, I'm now thinking of designing the new sun bed for September to November interest as well as spring. The plan is slowly emerging...

The book was published in 1996, and after only fourteen years many of the gardens and gardeners have changed or moved on (Heronswood being the prime example), reminding me how transient gardening really is. But there is still a lot here to discover and explore. Cyclamens, anyone??

Fiddling around the edges

Really, I don't mean to whine but - record numbers of 90-degree days? Drought followed by just an inch of two of rain here and there? Asian tiger mosquitoes undeterred by any bug spray you can name?


It's been a miserable month in the garden, I'm afraid. To add to this litany of disasters is the demise of the Sweet 100 cherry tomato. I thought this was an indestructible variety, but somebody came along and ate all of its leaves, so I ripped it out. Could this be the culprit?

 

The eggplants were attacked by flea beetles, and I have only one tiny yellow (huh?) eggplant to show for it. The beans and the zucchini are starting to produce now, but only in the most modest way. Here is today's tiny little harvest. I'm saving the zucchinis in hopes that they will grow more than two inches long.

 

Beyond that, I decided this morning that I could garden for more than thirty minutes if I wore long pants and long sleeves. Feeling a bit like a beekeeper, I succeeded in working for an hour and a half before the heat drove me indoors. Planted the kerria Judy gave me, two pieces in front of the compost trellis and the other next to the yellow kerria along the fence. The compost trellis is a difficult spot - the soil was dry as a bone, plus it's in shade. Will see whether the kerria will survive there or not.

Moved the 'Strawberry Candy' daylilies from the front garden, where they never bloomed, to the walkway bed. Mulched several beds and weeded here and there, which always helps things to look better. Ripped out scads of perilla along the walkway, revealing two almost-hidden day lilies and the nicotiana I started from seed. Perhaps we'll have a bloom or two before summer is over, and with any luck the nicotiana will self-seed there.

Finally, I am starting small with the new shrub and perennial bed in front, beginning by throwing down two bags of mushroom compost. I think I'll start with just a few things and expand the bed over time. I was inspired by Biffy's beautiful raised bed by the terrace to add some grasses.

 

Isn't this beautiful? Her lavender is gorgeous as well, and she attracts all kinds of birds and butterflies. Note to self: add lavender and rosemary to the list...

p.s. On the brighter side, I haven't seen a single Japanese beetle all summer long!

Dreams of glory

I'm thinking more about the new garden planned in the front, where full sun makes many things possible. Scale and sustainability are important, leading me away from a crab apple (too big) and towards some shrubs and even an evergreen for four-season interest. Although this decision is based on looking at the lawn from the front of the house. When you look from across the street, it seems that the space is big enough for a small crab apple to work. (Of course, you also notice the shutter in need of repair - just squint and it will be less noticeable.)

 

But I'm also dreaming of planting lots of colorful perennials that won't thrive elsewhere in the garden. Inspiration comes from every mixed perennial border you've ever seen, and more recently from this display at the National Arboretum last June:

 

Tell me if you can spot a color scheme here:

Echinacea - Just bought three 'Tomato Soup' - bright enough for you?? (No, this is not my photo, but when I bought them they were indeed this color.)


Larkspur

Achillea

Japanese anemones

Really tall things, like eupatoriums, or perhaps vines on a trellis or stakes

Lilies - Adrian Higgins' recent column provides lots of inspiration

Poppies

Roses

Salvias

Rudbeckia - maybe this one touted by WFF



Etc.

The first step is to lay out the bed and start mulching this fall. Then annuals next summer and planting in the fall of 2011.

July is finally over, and it's time to garden again - maybe

What happened in July? Drought, that's what happened. We had the hottest July on record, many days around 100 degrees, and approximately 1.1" of rain for the entire month - that's all! It was terrible, kind of like being stuck in the house during a snow storm. Too hot to go out, way too hot and buggy to garden, and meanwhile everything was dying.

Trying hard to be a responsible gardener, I do most of my watering from the rain barrel and from gray water saved from the kitchen sink. But this month I did do some deep watering with the hose and sprinkler a couple of times. How long can you watch your viburnums and hydrangeas curling up and gasping for breath without rushing to their rescue?

But, just like a snow storm, a long, hot summer gives you a chance to dream and plan. So here are some thoughts on moving things around, plus lessons learned from the raised bed. Caution: some of these images may be disturbing.

To be moved:
The American ginger in the shrub border - it gets too much sun and not enough water. Moving them under the oak tree will solve at least the first problem. Here they are all splayed out. Horrible, isn't it?

 

Itea - I have two in the shrub border behind the house, but for whatever reasons, this one suffered terribly in the drought while the other one did fine. I think it's time to move it (where?) and substitute an evergreen that grows 6-8' tall and can hide the rain barrel from view.

 

Tithonia - now that I know what this plant actually is, I would mass them some place where they get good sun and enough water. Not sure where this would be, but I'm working on it.

Tiarella - the sole survivor in front is dwarfed by a Siberian iris that throws its blade-like leaves far and wide and smothers the poor thing. Time to move the iris.

 

To be improved:
ALL the soil in the gardens, but especially in the side cutting garden. Most of what's there are annuals, so this fall will be a good time to dig up the dry, hard clay and add as much of that great compost as I can spare. See how awful it is now?

 

Raised bed area:

The eggplants have been attacked by flea beetles; the pepper was eaten by whatever creature has been eating my plants; the parsleys were discarded and new ones planted but they are tiny because of the drought; the cleomes and cosmos are okay. Putting bird netting around some of the plants seems to have averted the creature (birds? woodchucks??). Only the tomatoes seem to be somewhat successful. I always like cherry tomatoes, but I would not plant Siberia again. A short, cool growing season is hardly one of our problems.

The cardinal climber vine is more delicate than I expected - maybe because of the drought? - and does not have the presence needed for the arbor. Next year, either another year of annuals such as hyacinth bean, or take the plunge and plant roses and clematic.

 

The beans were attacked and replanted and have been sulking a bit. I'll give them another week and then I'll rip them out and plant for the third and last time. The zucchinis are doing okay but not setting much fruit. I may be the only gardener in the world who is not inundated with zucchini this August.

But am I daunted? No, I am not. It takes only one day like today, everything sparkling with the less-than-1/10-of-an-inch-of-rain we had last night and low humidity, for me to think that all things in the garden are possible.