The Garden Buzz

Garden Blogger's Bloom Day: March 15

Renegade crocus blooming while the others are merely pushing through the mulch. Bless him.

Painting the Garden

It's the ever changing nature of nature that makes it so precious. It's human nature to want to capture it and keep it; to hold tight to its beauty and wonder.

We attempt this feat with various methods. A photograph can show us the color and texture of nature as light falls upon it. A pantry of jewel-tone jars glows with garden bounty, like summer in a bottle. Pressed plants preserve the shape and form of leaf and bloom in a flat plane. Dried herbs contain the tasty heat of a sunny day. Perfume is a distillation of the ultimate fantasy garden. How many other ways do we seek to save the garden's essence?

Sometimes the short-lived joy is a bouquet brought indoors. Take it one step further and paint it, freezing that moment when a flower is fresh, perfect. Flowers are probably the most oft-painted subject of such still lifes, yet not always done well.

I happened across a talented painter the other day and thought I'd share a sample of her work. Diane Hoeptner is from California but now lives and paints in Ohio. She worked as a digital animator in her past life, and now puts that knowledge to good use with her new objets d'art.

I have a soft-spot for artists, starving and otherwise. You see, my mother was a painter (among other passions) of sorts, selling her "paintings on the sidewalk" so to speak, while as a child, I played nearby. A painting sold meant my new shoes. Diane is selling her paintings on a website sidewalk as artists like her take to the global gallery of the internet.

She participates in a "daily painting" to develop and inspire her work, much like I blog to flex and build my writing muscles. You meet the nicest people while blogging. Enjoy her work and visit her website.

Tiarella: A Wee Bit O' The Green Poking Through the Snow

Ah! Spring in Minnesota; black snow, playing pothole slalom and the smell of hot asphalt in the air. It's a little early this year. I'm betting on one more blizzard, about April. Meanwhile, those of you in more southerly latitudes are posting and tweeting; the crocuses are blooming! the robins are singing! yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah.

Me? I'm excited because I just saw a smidgen of green at my door, just in time for St. Patrick's Day. A leaf! Maybe more. The snow is melting, even the sedimentary layers on my deck that tell the story of early storms in October through bigger and better by December, until now. Other than soggy pine straw and anemic patches of lawn this is the first hopeful happening in my garden so far.

When I planted the 7 Tiarellas (Foam Flower) at the back-but-really-front door, it was a troublesome site, backed by a stone wall, probably 10 inches deep and 8 feet long, and not only narrow but a north-facing exposure. The variegated grasses had done a pathetic backwards stair step in height due to the increasing lack of light as you reach the door. Bare mulch or some kind of rock was the non-plant solution, but I thought I'd give it another try.

In spite of their cutesy name, "Sugar and Spice", the tiarellas called out to me in the nursery towards the end of the season. I love the dramatic leaf shape, deeply cut and bright green with a wine-red blotch for  more interest. Even better the pink and white frothy blooms of this native cultivar attract butterflies, while giving some height to the ground-hugging clumps of foliage. Their shade tolerance helped with the difficult place they were planted. Supposedly distasteful to rabbits, squirrels and deer, I think I'm going to like this perennial more and more.

I harrumphed when I read that the foliage is evergreen. I thought, yeah, and how does that work? But there it is peeking out of the snow, among the gelatinous mess of mulch and rotted plant matter, ready to roll. To think they have been sitting there all winter long, hidden.

But that isn't the only thing showing from under the snow. A few ghosts of holidays past, long buried by the Christmas Eve blizzard, have revealed themselves in recent days.

Remember the blue pumpkin from my Halloween posts?

One of the carolers that sat on the front porch by the Spruce Tips Arrangement the had disappeared in the storm.

For more signs of spring, read my "other" blog on the Star Tribune

Top Ten Butterfly Plants: This List Might Surprise You

Turns out the best plants for attracting butterflies to your garden are actually trees. I know! Who would have thought?

Frosty pines in my front yard    The Garden Buzz

File it under the "Well, how about that" category; it just proves that when you think you know it all, you really don't. After attending the Wild Ones native plant conference this past weekend, I've gained a much better understanding of plant/wildlife relationships, and while there was no wild behavior to report, I'm anxious to share some of the more astonishing aspects with everyone as you all plan your butterfly gardens this spring.

It's not that I didn't know that many trees are larval host plants necessary for butterfly survival, I just didn't know how big the numbers lean toward trees. Yet you've seen them, usually noted at the bottom of plant lists heavy at the top with bright candy-colored annual flowers touted as butterfly magnets, the trees sometimes asterisk-ed as afterthoughts.

 
Yellow sulphur on zinnia   The Garden Buzz

You can't blame us, because after all, it's right there on those flowers that we see the butterflies in our gardens. And we have the best intentions, wanting to provide nectar to the fragile and ephemeral creatures that light up our outdoor lives.

Keynote speaker, University of Delaware entomologist, Doug Tallamy, gave a thought-provoking talk about the food value of native landscapes to insects. While many people might think they want a bug-free yard, he explains, they still desire the presence of songbirds. You can't have one without the other. Put up all the bird feeders you like, insects make up a majority of bird diets, especially for raising young. And then there are all the other animals that depend indirectly upon them as well, like frogs, rabbits, foxes, humans and on and on. That whole circle of life stuff.

The crux of his talk focused on food webs and plant communities and how they relate to suburban backyards. Insects that evolved "eating local" for eons don't often recognize non-native species introduced from other continents. (Yes, some like Japanese beetles can adapt, in a big way) Most of the vast lawns and many of the specimen trees growing in our yards are truly alien to insects and might as well be plastic yard ornaments. How's that for an eye-opener?

But back to the list, the mind-blowing (for me at least) list. It shows the quantity of Lepidoptera (butterfly)species supported by each tree, shrub and perennial. These native trees used for shelter, overwintering, egg-laying, larval food and nectar source support 100-500. While most perennials averaged 30-40, with many of those butterfly magnets in the single digits.

Most Valuable Woody Plants for Butterflies

1. Oak (534)
2. Black Cherry (456)
3. Willow (455)
4. Birch (413)
5. Poplar (368)
6. Crabapple (311)
7. Blueberry (288)
8. Maple (265)
9. Elm (213)
10. Pine (203)

River birch dangling his "toes" in our pond     The Garden Buzz
 

Fritillary butterfly on swamp milkweed   The Garden Buzz 

However don't think the perennials and annuals don't have value. There are many butterflies that depend upon one, and only one plant for survival. I think that's material for another post. This one has gotten a little long.

Note that the list is for the Mid-Atlantic region, but every region save for some arid desert areas has the rough equivalent of these native trees, some translation might be required. To learn more, I highly recommend his book, Bringing Nature Home.

Well, what are you waiting for....go plant a tree! 

Forcing Branches to Bloom: A Little Gentle Persuasion

There's nothing like a few sprigs of apple blossoms or forsythia flowers to chase away the last of the winter blues. It's easy to do and does wonders for your spirits. I had been eying the crabapple in our cul-de-sac. I just hadn't figured out how to scale the ice-crusted snow wall coming between us without breaking something. Like me.

I'll confess I purchased these pre-forced peach branches at the grocery store. I went in for a jar of mayo and they called out to me from clear across the deli. That's often how nice things happen, when you aren't seeking them out.

I think they make an interesting counterpoint to the icicles outside, don't you?
 

Although it does require sharp tools, forcing sounds violent, I prefer to think of it as persuading. Here are a few other candidates for this treatment.

• Honeysuckle
• Vernal Witch Hazel
• Dogwood
• Quince
• Almond
• Cherry
• Spirea

Prune budded branches carefully. Bring inside and trim to fit your container. Split the end about 4 inches, and then place under water to trim another inch. This keeps the branch from sealing, which reduces water uptake.

Place branches in warm water and indirect light, hopefully away from heat vents. It can take one to eight weeks to see flowers. Occasionally it fails, but you'll still get leaves at least. But at this point we can't be too picky.

"Only" 22 days until spring, hang in there!
 

Am I Wrong About Amsonia: Great Native Plant or Perennial Flop?

The other day a popular garden blogger was lamenting not being able to grow amsonia in her garden, mentioning that it was to be the 2011 Perennial Plant of the Year (from now on known as POTY). All I could  remember was how liberated I felt the day I took a shovel to the amsonia growing all over the garden I had just acquired with our new house. So I jumped on that comment box, asking, "Am I the only one who hates amsonia?" Apparently so.

In my little mini-rant, I went on about amsonia's insignificant flowers of creepy blue and its floppy foliage. In minutes, impassioned gardeners were defending amsonia's honor and credentials as a worthy perennial and valuable native plant; citing its adaptability and drought-tolerance but mostly the gorgeous fall color that marks the season finale of this plant.

So I dug a little deeper so to speak. And then I felt a little silly. As an extension master gardener I am always preaching, "right plant for the right place". Could it be the amsonias in my garden were simply in the wrong place? Well, probably yes.

We bought this house with a foot of snow in the yard. But the brochure said, "Award-winning perennial garden". After buying houses (gardens) from people who planted silk flowers in the yard, and after selling houses (gardens) to people who didn't know a daisy from a dahlia; that was all I needed to hear. What they didn't tell me was that the award was probably given 20 years ago! When the landscape thawed I was literally up to my ears in Joe-Pye Weed (don't get me wrong, I love Joe, but enough is enough), while whatever perennials left were overshadowed by this overgrown plant I had never encountered. It turned out to be amsonia.

A little strip of it was planted in a long narrow bed by the back door, that is really the front door, in a northern exposure. This amsonia failed to bloom and flopped to the ground mid-summer, long before the foliage could turn any color. But the bulk of it in the backyard had bullied the astilbes and astrantias into submission and was threatening to take on the lawn. This area sees only slivers of sun at varying times as the light falls behind the woods in back and then the cottonwoods to the west.

As with many gardens, as they age, shade encroaches, change is inevitable. I am sure the original owners did indeed have an award-winning perennial garden. Shame on the last owners for neglecting it. Shame on me for bad-mouthing amsonia.

Amsonia does grow in partial shade, but it grows best in full sunlight. And therein was the problem. Not only does it bloom more bountifully, but the unusual shade of blue shows better in bright light. And when positioned just right, the sun illuminates the fall foliage until it glows golden.

 

In addition, the POTY Amsonia hubrichtii is a variety called "Arkansas Blue Star", selected for soft blue flowers and bottle-brush bright green foliage that turns into a rich golden yellow as fall approaches. Check out "Blue Ice" as well.

Since I had, in a feverish frenzy, dug up and disposed of all the amsonias in my garden, I had to borrow a few photos. How embarrassing.

So I stand corrected, too bad my amsonias are long-gone to the municipal compost heap. But meanwhile, repeat after me...Right Plant for the Right Place.

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Passalong Plants

Secretive deals involving "plant material" often end up badly. And no gardener wants to go to jail, even if they do have a really good horticulture therapy program. The courts show no mercy to us gardeners, maybe it's something about our propensity for digging.

Heck, I remember the time I asked to be excused from jury duty because it was spring. They were not sympathetic or understanding. In fact, I could feel the clerk's eyes rolling, over the phone. 

There's a better way to exchange plants without all the risks.( Although I used to know of an underground network pushing that banned perennial, purple loosestrife)

Passalong plants are a win-win proposition, and mostly legal. Passalong plants are traded over back fences between neighbors, tossed at curbs for the quick and the observant, no money necessary. Other times they are traded and sold at garden club plant sales. These specimens can be common as clay soil or rare heirlooms tucked in a babushka and tranported from the motherland. Sometimes the story is actually better than the plant.

Having moved an average of every 2.3 years during my peripatetic life, I've had to leave behind many plants, but the hardest to part with are the passalong plants, the ones with a memory of a person or place. I  have managed to maintain a few succulents through the moving; a pussy-toes from my fellow-Californian friend Jody, who now lives in NY, a starfish cactus and a jade plant from propagation class during my first year as a Master Gardener in Kansas, and an unusual stapelia (the latin for that same cactus) from Steph, a new Master Gardener friend. They are some of the plants that I hold dearest.

 

Stapelia (does anyone know the variety?)   The Garden Buzz

Do keep in mind that not every passalong plant is a good thing. A plant described as vigorous may be invasive instead; I'm sure the new owner of my previous garden would like to talk to me about Artemisia "Limelight" and ask me just what I was thinking the day I planted that first sprig. It's not always a bad thing when you say good-bye to a passalong plant. But for the most part they are plants with a proven track record, otherwise they wouldn't be so plentiful for passing along.

(You can read more about all this in Passalong Plants by Steve Bender and Felder Rushing; two garden writers who are equally entertaining and knowledgeable.)

Passalong plants by the window    The Garden Buzz

Garden Blogger's Bloom Day: February 15, 2010

Kalanchoe "Petero"     The Garden Buzz

Although I am only growing snow, I decided to participate for the first time in Garden Blogger's Bloom Day. On the 15th of every month, garden bloggers around the world post pictures of what's blooming in their gardens. It seems like the neighborly thing to do, now that I feel like a full-fledged garden blogger. Plus, there's the alliteration, and you might have noticed, I'm all over that.

I had to find something blooming inside this time.  My indoor collection has grown this year; normally not fond of houseplants, I've allowed a few ivies and a feather fern to live with us, and beyond that I have to say the terrariums are terribly fun.

Along with some other succulents I'm overwintering in the laundry room with the lovely light, this kalanchoe has been recuperating. He's had a rough winter; during the holidays, he was sitting on a fern-stand in the bathroom, minding his own business, when my husband startled the dog, who likes to chew on our socks there in private. (I hope I got that punctuation right, if not, please note, the dog was the one chewing on socks) When all the commotion had ceased; the fern stand was in pieces, my favorite green pot in shards, and the kalanchoe up-ended with all his potting soil askew. 

I had to trim off all the orange flowerlets and prune off the damaged leaves. Then I took him to the laundry room to let him regain his composure. So a month later, the blooms were a big surprise. Granted they are only on the lower lateral shoots, but still.

Kalanchoes are succulent plants native to Madagascar, discovered in the 1700's by some brave but anonymous plant explorer. More popular as a potted plant in Europe than America, I think they deserve more consideration. They come in yellow, orange, red and many shades of pink. I like that when the  clusters of flowers are gone, the fleshy, scalloped leaves are still attractive. Being a succulent, they tolerate the desert-like dry conditions of our house in winter. And unless they are thrown to the ground, seem to thrive on benign neglect.

There are all sorts of convolutions necessary to get light sensitive plants, like Kalanchoe to re-bloom. It involves covering them at night with a dark cloth among other things. I mean, really? Instead, this summer I plan to place the Kalanchoe on the porch with all the other succulents. They thrive in the eastern exposure and afternoon shade. I find that this and/or bringing them back indoors in fall seems to trigger blooming in quite a few. As for the timing, heck, I like surprises.

Something Old, Something New for Valentine's Day: Bleeding Hearts

I hate to disappoint anyone. I was going to title this post with some of the quaintly descriptive names of Dicentra spectabilis, otherwise known by the tragically romantic moniker, "Old-Fashioned Bleeding Hearts". But then I remembered the unsavory search words that appeared in my referrals when I did a blog about appreciating and harvesting rose hips. It seems some people that like Big Hips aren't seeking out gardening advice.

I guess we've all had it happen. You look up "juicy fruit" and get more than apple trees and gum. You fancy raising poultry and google "baby chicks" and get a different type of scantily-clad bird.

I can see the reason for names like "Chinese Pants". Nonetheless, I can't wait for my bleeding hearts to bloom again so I can check if you really see a "Lady-in-the-Bath" when you turn the purse-shaped flower upside-down and pinch the puffy part.

Bleeding Hearts is an herbaceous perennial, hardy to zone 3, a beloved garden flower that comes back again and again, blooming faithfully in late spring.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY from THE GARDEN BUZZ!!! 

However in Kansas I only had a nodding acquaintance with them. Like dainty women of yesteryear, they get the vapors at the slightest hint of hot summer-heat, their fern-like foliage going dormant and doing a disappearing-act. There they bloomed in those few weeks they call spring,( you can tell by the tornadoes). Then it was "quick, get me a fainting couch" and they were done.

In my northern garden, they are a much more prolonged presence; I can see why they are recommended as a long-lasting cut flower. Their only downfall, the hollowish brittle stems that fail to stand up to the watering hose, my own heart breaking every time I turned to see another fatality. Note to self: Plant them further back in the border. Although the chains of locket-like blossoms did look adorable dangling over the path.

A native to Asia and certain parts of North America, Bleeding Hearts does well in moist, humusy but well-drained soil and partial shade, making it the perfect flower for lighting up woodland plantings and shady spots. Plan for its annual leave-taking by pairing it with later emerging hostas, ferns and geraniums.

Consider also Dicentra spectabilis "Alba", this white version is a little less vigorous but deserves a place in the garden. Beyond these basic varieties:

• Candy Hearts, with longer flowering, stronger pink blooms
• Burning Hearts, almost red with a white outline
• Gold Heart, with lime/yellow foliage and reddish stems
• Fringed Bleeding Hearts, white fringed blooms with gray-green lacy foliage
• King of Hearts, prolific but sterile flowers

We sometimes pooh-pooh popular plants, thinking they are too easy. But sometimes easy is just what we need. And then there's the 1898 catalog description of Bleeding Hearts; "cheap, common but very charming". What will the search engine do with that?

Garden Trends: Seeing Double

Oh no, Mama's having one of her spells. It might be a migraine, very possibly that pesky vertigo, but always annoying; Yet I usually live through them to plant and pontificate another day. However, what a great lead-in to a subject I've been thinking about lately. All the dizziness has me thinking about double flowers.

Double Hollyhock (martha stewart)

When plant breeders aren't trying to conjure up square watermelons or blue roses, their fall back position is to just make something double. Snapdragon "Twinny Peach" is one of the latest to come out. Yet double flowers aren't twice the flower, they just have more petals than usual. Ironically, double flowers are often far short of something else. Nectar and pollen.

The slightly scientific explanation is that double flowers occur when there is a genetic "misfire" that causes the sexual structures to mutate and  produce more petals. Plant breeders work to make that happen on purpose for showier flowers. The drawback is that completely double flowers are sterile.

Planting sterile double flowers has its advantages; with more vivid, longer-lasting floral displays. They are a literal lifesaver for those who are allergic to bees, but want to see some color in their backyard scenery. Many sterile flowers are also self-cleaning, just like an oven, meaning no dead heading chores.

Unfortunately with sterile flowers, you get a sterile landscape; no buzz in your garden.

I love the cleome variety "Senorita Rosalita", for its prolific flowers and huge, rounded habit, plus its salsa-rific name. It blooms and blooms and fails to get all rangy and mangy like its old-fashioned, open-pollinated cousin. But watch the butterflies stop to feed and then pass it by, their disappointment almost palpable. OK, I'm being silly, but they won't be thanking you for your hospitality and hanging around your garden.  

Imagine you see a splendid smorgasbord laid out with succulent dishes of food, but upon closer examination, it's all made of plastic; pretty but inedible. That's what mass plantings of double flowers, like Double Wave petunias, can seem like to your local wildlife. Does this mean all double flowers are the work of the devil? No.

Double Wave Petunias   (photo by ndgardengirl)

There is, as mentioned above, a time and a place for double flowers. Moreover, there are different degrees of double flowers, there are semi-double and flowers that have a combination of fertile and sterile inflorescence (that's a fancy name for flowers), hydrangeas being a good example.

Pee Gee Hydrangea has both fertile and sterile flower petals   The Garden Buzz

Many semi-double flowers have merely an extra layers of petals, just enough to make a little petticoat. Some are fairly flouncy, but the nectary is still apparent, in the form a pollen-laden yellow center. Without being a botanist, that is your best bet to noting the wildlife value of a particular plant.

Double Cosmos "BonBon" still offers nectar and pollen to butterflies and bees.  (The Garden Buzz)
 

Double flowers give you a lot of bang for your buck, so place them strategically and sporadically around the garden; maybe in containers or hanging baskets within an otherwisepollinator-friendly garden. Then maybe they can work like those resin replicas on the dessert tray that draw us in for the main entree and the promise of sweet things to come.

Note----It is my personal policy to use my own photos whenever possible, however I don't grow any completely double flowers at this time, and with 10 inches of snow falling, none were available anywhere! Please note that these photos have been credited with their source.