Gardening

Things moving too fast? Spring's flying by here. The bulbs are half-way home and lots of little rock garden stuff is popping into flower everywhere. Before you know it the perennials will be putting on their show.

Worse yet, the work is piling up at breakneck pace. Weeds, weeds, weeds...planting...improving soil...feeding...mulching...pruning and cutting back. It feels overwhelming, doesn't it?

STOP.

Grab a coffee tomorrow morning. Walk out in your slippers...maybe even p.j.'s (this might work better if you do it BEFORE you get dressed for the day). ENTER your garden--slip across the edge. SIT DOWN in the middle of everything and just look around you. Don't move for twenty minutes.

If you need me to tell you how good this is for you, repeat the process the next day. If you KNOW how good this is for you, you won't need a reminder.

NOW...go back to your regularly scheduled day.

Moving plants out from their indoor safe-havens when winter is past (?) is always a little dicey. Edible figs (Ficus carica cvrs.) which began leafing out weeks ago in the basement, just couldn't wait anymore. Low light levels began to etiolate new growth and that will spell trouble later in the season if they don't get more light NOW. So the figs were moved outside (and even those with fruit showing appear to be none the worse for wear). Perhaps their early start under lights will give them the longer season they need to ripen fruit on a more consistent basis.

Japanese maples--the couple that were in non-frost hardy pots--had also leafed out under the lights and were actually flowering. They are probably two weeks ahead of their brethren who passed the winter outdoors in pots. Within a few weeks everyone will be on the same page. Being of the thread-leafed persuation, I was more than a little concerned that moving them out would result in burn or die-back, but a few cloudy, rainy days were heaven sent to ease the transition.

The drooping of peony flower heads is a common phenomenon regarded by commentators as either romantic or a curse. It is generally attributed to: 1) rain gathering in the flower petals—a particular problem with cultivars bred for large double flowers; 2) wind; 3) over-feeding, especially with fertilizers high in nitrogen.

Typical solutions to the problem feature some sort of support or staking. Methods abound, but none are considered totally effective.

It is perhaps telling that the website of the American Peony Society contains not a single word on the subject of supporting or staking paeonia despite having pages on peony care and problems.

Peony producers in the Netherlands grow hectares of plants in open fields without support.

Klehm’s Song Sparrow Nursery, a major US peony grower, does not support its peonies, which are field grown in the open. They don’t recommend supporting the plants, but will sell peony supports if pressed by a customer.

Only one of the two major peony nurseries to address the drooping problem (most nursery websites, like the peony association, don’t mention supporting or staking in their peony care pages) suggests a remedy—and it strikes me as one that would be difficult to keep from looking unsitely. David Furman of Cricket Hill Nursery (a peony specialist) suggests the following:

“SUPPORTING PEONIES: To support large clumps of peonies, lay a flat piece of 2”chicken wire, cut to a size of about 2 ft. x 2 ft., carefully over the new red shoots in spring. This has to be done early in the season, as soon as the shoots emerge from the ground. Adjust chicken wire to allow one shoot to go into one cell of the wire. As the shoots grow taller, the chicken wire will lift up and be a part of the growing plant, settling under the foliage. Fold down the edges of the wire under foliage so it is not visible. This will support the stems, and keep the plant more upright.”

The other, Don Hollingsworth of Hollingsworth Peonies

does not support his plants and suggests that doing so does not prevent drooping:

“One additional comment—the heavier, full double flowers will collect and hold a substantial weight of water, overloading the stems. Even sturdy stems may fall or break from the weight. For the more viewed portions of the landscape, growing rain resistant sorts will reduce the grooming work. Mechanical support can be useful, but not entirely so. Net wire circles or metal frames hidden in the foliage work well when flower weight is close to the bush. Longer stems will often bend and may break. In such kinds, staking each stem may be the only way to keep the opened flower pleasingly presented above the bush. Many of us are unable or unwilling to devote that level of care.”

All agree that supporting plants is an aesthetic choice, and may, or may not, prove effective. That said there are several alternatives at widely varying price points (see attached information on each of the methods discussed below).

At the low end of the cost scale are two options from big-box retailers like Lowe’s and Home Depot, which offer plant supports (18” rings) and “grow through” supports for less than $4.00 each.

Growers tend to offer sturdier, and more pricy options. Klehm’s Song Sparrow, for instance, sells groups of six supports for $49.95 (bottom ring 14”, top ring 25”).

At the top end of the scale, and self-described as “the best peony support made”, is the offering from Lee Valley Tools. It is far sturdier and of better construction, adjustable, and is built to be applied “only when needed.” It is also $37.50 each. 

On the other hand, you could just enjoy the natural presentation of the flowers, the romance of the arched canes with their fulsome heads of papery petals--an attractive scene not lost on the legion of artists and photographers who have depicted peonies through the years.

Either way, stop back at BotanicalGardening.com when you're done and let us know how you've managed with yours.

All of us love plants in the home, but would rather not keep them in plastic pots. Terra cotta just looks so much better--and is certainly more in keeping with a display function. The problem is, clay is porous (ironically this is also its main advantage) and as soon as you transplant your little beauties, it begins the process of wicking moisture OUT of the potting medium, rapidly drying the rootball of the plant. This, logically, aggravates transplant shock and results in your plant drooping--which is not why you chose to display it.

The cure? Take your pot and soak it. Let your terra cotta soak in a bath of cool water before you pot. With its walls saturated, it will temporarily be unable to wick water from your plant. The pot's surface will have to dry before the process begins and this gives your plant valuable time early in its move to re-establish. Keeping the plants cool and shaded helps extend this grace period.Two dozen plants repotted for show a couple of days ago have shown NO transplant shock at all and are ready to take their place center stage on the dinner table.

Give your plants the best start possible by reducing stress. Soaking your pots first will give plants a chance to shine--and a beautiful indoor display will reduce your stress level too.

Look out...it's nearly time for the catalogue season.... CAUTION! is the
order of the day.

With the winter season nearly here, bulbs in the ground, and everything put
to bed; thoughts will swing to the coming year and the new plants with which we
will festoon our gardens. Soon mailboxes across the land will be drooping under
the weight of catalogues from nurseries far and wide. Thousands of offerings
will vie for attention from the pile of slick, colorful mailers--which is best
perused fireside with a large glass of wine or a snifter of fine scotch (only
partly to preserve your sanity).

Here are the warning signs that you're out of control:

1.     3M stock soars as you purchase Post-It notes by the gross to mark
pages...

2.     You forget to go to bed

3.     You do go to bed but in your chair

4.     You need a spreadsheet or three to
keep things straight

5.     You stop putting prices next to the
line items on your list

6.     You can't remember your last meal

7.     You've worn the same clothes for
three day

8.     You're not wearing any clothes

9.     The word 'anemone' begins to look
like 'allium'

10.   That billboard in Suffern, "Why
don't home improvement shows feature a visit to the bank," begins to sound
applicable to GARDENS!

Well, I've threatened to do it for some years, and this spring's post-flowering surgical strikes by the local chipmunk population have put me over the top. I've made my first BULK order of ground cayenne pepper--five POUNDS as a test!

The little blokes have put me in a tough position. We plant 10-15,000 bulbs a year, so you wouldn't think that the loss of a few to my favorite rodents would rankle. I've got news for you. They always seem to pick the ones I put in a special spot...or those I've otherwise got my eye on. 

I didn't want to mess with a spray, and they only last through a couple of rains. The idea is to mix a little ground cayenne in with the soil that's used to fill the planting hole. Most people I know don't care for much hot pepper, I only hope it is as effective with the furry ones.

Oh yes...I'll let you know (some one remind me next spring...)

Now hot-foot it back to BotanicalGardening.com...

The chill is palpable—not like those behind-the-back, withering glares from relatives at family gatherings where politics is discussed—you can feel it. As quick as the summer has passed, fall will be here and with it, the end of the growing season.

Some of us have space cleaned for the pots that need to be brought in even before the shorts and tee shirts are put away and flannel and canvas take their place. The rest of us will start the annual scramble soon—how DOES that space fill up? Where will we go with all the new things we picked up to fill the gaping holes left inside when the pots went out in spring? Every year things get smashed closer and closer together and we get a little less concerned if something (not our favorites, of course!) dies. Gardeners, like nature, abhor a vacuum, and space fills just as quickly as trapped rodents are replaced.

Bringing pots in is a relatively simple matter, and would be little more than physical labor but for the hitchhikers hiding in the pots and on the plants. Anything being brought into the house, or other indoor growing area, needs to be cleaned up—and that means more than trimming off dead leaves and branches to tidy up.

Examine your plant as if it’s a patient. Start by looking at the overall picture. Most of us can tell if a plant is happy or not. Then look at the leaf tops in particular. Clean? Pick the pot up and look underneath the leaves. Still clean? Look closely at the leaf axils—where the leaf stem (petiole) meets that stem of the plant. This is a favorite hiding spot for pests like mealy bugs. Look for tiny little barnacle-like lumps (usually brown) on the stems themselves. This would be a form of scale. No problems yet? Check the surface of the soil. Weed and remove any liverwort. See any snail trails (thin slimy wanderings…)? If you do, search for their creators and get rid of them. They are invariably too small for escargot.

ANY insects, eggs, webbing, etc. should go. Pick them off; spray them off, brush them off—just get rid of them. Bringing them inside now is like us taking a trip to sunny Florida in January; they’ll be invigorated (and will go forth and multiply—biblically).

It’s not a bad idea to clean the outside of the pot of excess dirt, algae, etc. And then, there’s the drain hole. A favorite hiding place for slugs and wood lice, the drain hole is the most overlooked of fall move-in clipboard check-offs. Dislodge any visitors that are visible, then run a chopstick or other stiff probe around the inside of the opening to rouse any hiders. I like to completely pop the root ball out and scan the outside of it for pests, but run the risk of it falling apart in my hands if I do. It’s not the best time of year for repotting plants that are resting, so I would prefer for that not to happen—but there’s no better way to eliminate problems before bringing them in.

One of the least appealing of fall chores is slug pluckin’. It’s a slimy job, but someone has to do it. Unless you have someone in your thrall, that would be you. They seem to be getting bigger, don’t you think? It used to be you could flick them off pots and plants without a thought. Now they’re big enough to coat your flicking finger with slime and disgust. Some people delight in dunking them in a salty brine to watch them disappear in a foamy mess. Me? I figure they’re here for a reason, even if it’s only to feed the toads (just wish there were more toads…or that slugs were a little higher on the list of desirable food), so I flick into the more inhospitable parts of the yard. I figure that at the rate they move, they’ll be someone’s dinner before they trouble me again.

Getting rid of slugs ensures that there won’t be holes in your leaves and reflective slime trails all over your precious charges. Cleaning up everything else guarantees that your plants will rest the winter in relative comfort until they can be put back out in spring to enjoy the growing season.

Hate them if you must, but you've got to admire weeds. The most adaptable of plants, they've evolved numerous mechanisms for defending themselves and making sure that they make it to the next generation. Spines, prickles, toxins, parts that shed themselves and hitch rides--they are the ultimate competitors.

Every gardener is familiar with Oxalis stricta, the common yellow woodsorrel, or common yellow oxalis. It, along with Oxalis corniculata its creeping purple-leafed cousin, are among the most ubiquitous of garden pests.

I've long been familar with Oxalis' particular method of dispersing seeds, but have never experienced it like I did today. These plants disperse their seeds by explosively ejecting them. The seeds can travel up to 4 meters. This is nearly 4000 times their diameter or the equivalent of a six-foot human jumping 24,000 feet (over 4.5 MILES!).

Now...it would take sooooome push in the back to get me to jump four and a half miles, so you can imagine the force this tiny little plant has to exert to expel its seed. I experienced it first-hand this morning while weeding. Yes, it's best to get any weed before it makes its seed capsules, but you can never completely exterminate oxalis...and I came across a goodly patch of it. Many of the plants had already formed seed and as I waded in and began pulling, I was suddenly peppered in the face with seed! The bloody little b&$#%@s were shooting at me!

Keep in mind that this was not a defensive maneuver, but a seed dispersal mechanism. Nonetheless, the little green snipers were having their way with me--and procreating at the same time.

Part of the difficulty with oxalis is that like viola, they are cleistogamous or can form seed without a flower opening to be fertilized. As a consequence, they are nearly always in seed--and that means loaded with ammunition. Pick and POW! Seed's going everywhere.

You wondered why you couldn't get rid of them? Now you know...

Last day of July...time for the garlic harvest.

I use it in everything and although its per-pound cost in the grocery store is high, its light weight means you pay very little for what you need. Despite that, I like to grow it--and you can get much better variety, with spectacular taste, if you raise your own. It couldn't be easier.

Late last fall, I gathered bulbs from the farmer's market and grocery store. Keeping the smaller cloves for the kitchen, I took the bigger ones out to the garden and popped them in. Basal plate down, pointy end up, they went in rows, got covered up...and promptly forgotten until spring when they began their growth.

Garlic likes sun, water and fertilizer when in growth. Mine got sun. Despite the benign neglect they grew quickly and formed inflorescences (flower spikes) in due time. These were clipped off so that they didn't rob the bulbs of energy, brought into the kitchen and used in salads or sauteed.

Gradually, as is their wont, the plants began dying back. This morning, just a few days before leaving on vacation, I decided to dig them (so that they weren't forgotten). Bulbs weren't as big as I had hoped--but that's the result of my above-mentioned neglect. They'll be dried over the next few weeks, broken up so that the largest individual cloves go back in the garden, and brought into the kitchen for winter use.

AND yes. I'll be buying more at the farmer's market to diversify and supplement the crop, and build up supplies...

...can't ever have too much garlic!

The local A&P is the last place you’d expect to inspire a garden moment. Plantings in parking lots tend to include vegetation that can withstand stresses to which no plant should be subjected, and consequently the palette tends to be thin and uninspiring. Poor, compacted soil, extremes of heat, sun and drought, irregular maintenance, and all the abuses heaped upon them by careless or downright malicious passers-by, contribute the least satisfactory of growing environments.

In such areas Juniperus communis (Common Juniper) ranks high because of its indestructibility. Its spreading nature and dense, impenetrable interlacing of prickly branches commend it to high-stress plantings. As a bonus it forms a barrier few humans would deign to challenge. Here at the A&P it is employed in parking lot island plantings—and people walk AROUND it with their carts.

Juniper is rarely thought of as beautiful. This is a plebian, and purely utilitarian planting. Yet occasionally in such situations you are called upon to sit up and take notice.

Leaving the store the other day with my shrimp and olives, an interesting thing happened. Passing one such planting a large bird flashed past my windshield, wings outspread, feet dangling. It was a female mallard (Anas platyrhynchos) and she was coming in way too fast.

Now the surprise. Seemingly without slowing down, she plunged into the juniper and disappeared from sight. Half expecting her to bounce from the impact and the speed at which she had entered the prickly copse, I slowed to watch. Nothing.

Had she been impaled? I had to assume that this bird knew what she was doing. More than likely she was nesting in the protection of the branches. It was probably safer to croak an Anasian “BANZAI!” and plunge into hazardous tangle, than to try landing on hot asphalt amidst oblivious shoppers bent on their rounds.

The event brought to mind once again the transformative power of gardening and its attractiveness to non-human inhabitants of our world. I’d seen it before—most notably in the design and installation of gardens in sterile new subdivisions. Literally the DAY after planting (some of the plants were installed in flower) this formerly barren site was alive with birds, mammals, and insects—including butterflies; that hadn’t been seen on this property since before it was scraped clean for development.

Yet this bird and her action brought the potent allure of the garden home in a new and stronger way. They use and appreciate our gardens for far different reasons, but the impact we have when we plant should not be underestimated.

Skydive back to BotanicalGardening.com but watch that landing...

It's time! Still before Mother's Day--but because of it--you can put together full, luscious, finished containers in a fraction of the time it used to take. Last year we talked about this technique on BotanicalGardening.com in the "Tips" section. It worked like a charm for us at Turtle Point last year and you can be certain we'll be at it again this year...

Ssshhhhhhh....don't tell anyone!

I'm a witness. Last night, at the Ramsey train station in New Jersey, I saw a man messing with public property. I watched him, a short older man with dark hair, wearing black, and with a hard brace on one leg, as he manhandled the horticulture being done at the otherwise attractive train station. While untold thousands of people had passed this way before, the plantings had remained relatively untouched and intact until now.

It was guerrilla horticulture of the highest order.

Although many would have shied from altering a municipal display, this man, civilly disobedient though he might be, gamely jumped in to try to save the trees in this ornamental planting. Some years old, the garden was maturing, and the supports used to anchor the trees in place had severely girdled them. The cincture cut deeply into the cambium and large, unsightly bulges protruded from above and below.

This small man, whose first language was not English, wrestled the twisted wire away from the trunks while a small boy with him watched and coached his efforts. Muttering as he worked, he freed tree after tree from their strictures.

The less enlightened among us might consider his actions vandalism since they involved public property. Seeing the trees tugged and pulled and the supports yanked apart, a zealous municipal officer might have ticketed the man. Yet his actions were bold and correct. The real crime was the lack of maintenance at this prominent location. The trees had obviously been left for years without anyone bothering to take the time to examine whether the supports were still necessary...or whether adjustments should be made to prevent them from injuring the tree.

It was left to this unassuming good samaritan to rescue them, providing care they sorely needed long ago. The scars will never heal--the damage is deep and permanent.

No matter. The trees are dead.

Return to BotanicalGardening.com.

We all thrill to the first signs of spring in the garden. Tender green noses peeking from the still-cold ground set hearts astir. Pulses quicken and long disused muscles are limbered in anticipation of the season. I think that half our enjoyment of the garden comes from anticipation.

What we're really waiting for is a long soaking rain--the one that comes after the ground has warmed a bit and which, like a fuse to the ground's gunpowder, explodes the garden into growth.

There's one every spring, and it's most magical when it comes at night. Morning exploration reveals a wonderland of newness. Long forgotten treasures join new jewels coming into the light. All are bedecked with glistering reminders of the night's mizzle.

The birds and animals sense it too. they are active and vocal, lending noise and movement to the garden. From one day to the next a massive change sweeps over garden and woodland.

It's coming. Soon. There's no stopping it to experience it as it happens. Be aware and you will encounter one of the great joys of the season.

Just don't forget to come back to BotanicalGardening.com...there's more on the way...

Oh joy! The perennial part of this year's seed sowing is complete. It's been a totally modest bit of production--only 70 or so pots this year. Annuals and a bit of veg will follow, but not for a couple of weeks.

There was a bit more than normal in situ sowing--direct to the spots outdoors I'd like the plants to grow. Castilleja species and extra Xanthisma coloradoensis (formerly an Aster) were chief amongst the new seed broadcast directly into the snow...but I'm planning a mass outdoor planting of the old seed that's been hanging around for longer than I'd like.

If anything exciting happens, you'll be the first to know...

It must be the holidays. Seed catalogues are germinating like cress in the mailbox (can we say coming through the slot--does anyone still have a mail slot in the door?). In the last two days a half dozen have arrived, almost all of them for vegetables...each containing a smattering of flower selections.

The seed-exchange lists have come and gone except for NARGS, the North American Rock Garden Society, which should arrive any day. It is the seed catalogues with their color saturated photography or line drawings that rule the day.

Today it's almost too warm to sit and look at them...an activity that is best for the bitterly cold, snowy days that are sure to come. So for now these tempting publications are being stacked.

Do I try some new veggies this year?

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