The Garden Buzz

Big Hips

With Thanksgiving dinner just behind us it seems like the perfect time to talk about big hips. But I'm not talking about the turkey, potatoes and pie kind of hips. I love roses with big hips. I once grew a white rose named after Princess Diana; so small, pale and demure. Unlike the royal namesake the rose was unremarkable, yet the hips, whoa, the hips. Incredibly round, red and robust, these hips were the main attraction that overwhelmed the shrub in late summer. What would Diana have thought?

 
Rose hips (Pavement roses) The Garden Buzz 

 Not every rose has big hips. Rugosas are the most reliable for producing the large, pronounced seed pods. That's what hips are, just big seed pods that offer one more season of interest, as well as adding habitat value to your garden, because the birds adore them. Up north growing Pavement series roses I find consolation in their luscious hips; the blooms while highly fragrant are short-lived and shatter easily.

In shades of scarlet to burnt orange hips rival berries for winter decoration. However my Rosa glauca, an understated, still interesting native rose with small pink star-shaped flowers, blue-green foliage and red stems  puts out prolific quantitites of olive-green hips, pretty in their own way. 

While deadheading roses can prolong flowering, once the season wanes, blooms left to mature will produce hips of various shapes and sizes. They range from small bead-like pips to plump little apple-like productions. These larger hips like that of the rugosa, are the best for human consumption. As with all wild edibles, avoid those where pesticide was used and approach with caution should you suffer from allergies.

Rose hips (William Baffin)    The Garden Buzz

Touched by frost they start to shrivel then sweeten. You can harvest the hips to make tea, jelly or syrup. When making tea, use them fresh or dry them for a winter pick-me-up. Snip the hips and cut in half, scrape out the seeds and infuse with boiling water. Technically that process names the finished product; an infusion, but for simplicity's sake we'll call it tea.The resulting rosy-golden liquid has a delicious mildly tart taste that provides more vitamin C than citrus. And once again, it is so satisfying to find food in your front-yard.

Turkeys Lurking

Yeah, I could have just gone on Google images and cadged a cool photo of the mean-lean prototype of our butterball bird. But with all the wild turkeys lurking along our road, certainly it wouldn't be hard to shoot one for the blog. Yet like a new Murphy's Rule, it seems that carrying the camera is a sure-fire way to stop seeing those beautiful, bronze and barred babies. In my quest to supply an authentic photo of this truly authentic American treasure, I stalked the haunts and homes of the local turkeys. Finally on day three, I resorted to an easy out. I know they are always out and about on a nearby wooded and lovely corporate campus. Hence...here you have a grainy and and not-so-great snapshot of what I'm calling "my bookend birds" with this almost symmetrical pose.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Berry Grateful Birds

Winterberry Holly in the Snow   The Garden Buzz

Somewhere along the line my gardening goals evolved beyond feeding myself to feeding the wildlife that frequent my garden. And then I took it one step further; attempting to attract even more fauna to feast upon my flora. And while it seems awful altruistic, a few of my reasons were selfish, plain and simple. I consider an abundance of animals the mark of a successful garden.

 
Cotoneaster berries   The Garden Buzz 

 We almost all start gardening for purty flowers or tasty tomatoes, but after a while I think we crave a little more excitement, some unexpected variety, a new challenge. One day I realized I was just as interested in the insects as I was fascinated by the flowers. I needed a little more birdsong, a lot more flutter. I found the animals added movement, whimsy, and a certain wildness to an otherwise artificial space. But while I'm well aware of all that circle of life stuff, I insist that snakes are optional.

 
In Michael Pollan's book, Botany of Desire he ponders whether plants are manipulating humans to insure not only their survival but their spread; playing to our desire for beauty, sweetness, control and and intoxication.  So when I plant fruit-producing shrubs not only for the beautiful berries and subsequently the birds, I have to ask, who's beguiling whom?  Is that a two-tiered trap that I willingly fall into?

 
Frosted Snowberries (Charming Fantasy)

No matter. Shrubs with berries are easy plants that demand little attention in return for the show they put on. Which birds eat which berries and when, is the matter of much speculation. It is readily assumed that the sweetest and juiciest go first. Yet I watch the black crows eat the white berries of red-twig dogwood while the wild grapes hang on. Recently a red cardinal plucked a winterberry and dropped it like a rock. But the cedar waxwings strip the crabapple clean and move on.

 
Chokeberry (Aronia Autumn Brilliance)  The Garden Buzz

Red commands attention in nature, but there are other colors to collect like black chokeberry and blushed snowberry. As winter approaches I can't resist photographing the frosted fruits all day. They remind me of Victorian epergnes of sugared grapes and such; one last, lush display of excess all too welcome before the whiteness of winter.

Chokeberries

Garden Talk with Johnny Cash

Faded rose "All the Rage" The Garden Buzz

 I didn't mean that the grass was green

While your leaves is turning brown

Now don't take me so seriously

When I tell you don't hang around

But now I see you don't need pruning

And who do you suppose

Is back in line for one more time

After his old faded rose

My old faded rose

    ------Johnny Cash

Last Herb Standing

I know, I've already talked about micro-climates. But I can't say enough about them. When they work, they really work. By now the herbs should have packed it up with the rest of the plants. At least here in Minnesota. All you Texans and Californians with your rosemary hedges and lavender-lined walkways will just have to sit on your hands while I prattle on.

With the right micro-climate you can grow a very happy plant, push the zones or just eke out an extra week of edibles. Once again, it's all about the right plant for the right place. I'm taken back to my grandmother's yard; the thirsty horsetails grew by the leaky faucet and the yuccas grew where the hose wouldn't reach. It's that simple.

The hostas have gone to mush, the black-eyed Susan's are stiff, and the trees are bare. But nestled in a south-facing stone terrace, beneath the dark-colored deck stairs, the herbs are only bothered by the oak leaves that keep catching in their stems. It's usually a contest to see who outlasts, out plays, oops, that's Survivor. But you get the idea.

 
Golden sage   The Garden Buzz 

 In my previous zone 6 garden, I could count on some frost-singed, purple-tinged thyme in December for the herb/wine sauce for the Christmas tenderloin. Here before it's been all over by October. Not this year. Freakishly good November weather hasn't hurt. So I'm left with your parsley, sage, rosemary and two types of thyme, not to mention tarragon, chives, oregano and marjoram. And what's up with the fennel finding it's second wind?

 
Now the only question left, is why am I sitting on my butt blogging? I should be down there snipping one last bouquet of beautiful herbs. I'm on it. Later...

Oh Dear, Oh Deer

I live in a crittery sort of place. Coyotes cross my path quite regularly. Wild turkeys forage under oaks along our road. Beavers build and re-build dams in the inlet. Last week I witnessed a pair of bald eagles fishing for dinner while I ate mine. It's no big deal to see deer.

But right now it's deer season, in more ways than one. Hunting season is a period of high holy days in Minnesota. And the deer are out and about, in meet and greet mode; it's mating season. And after watching the deer dating game this week I am amazed that there is an overpopulation problem.

I awoke at dawn to a commotion of deer. There are prides of lions and pods of porpoises and the more onomatopoetic murmuration of starlings; yet this is my collective noun for the sight I saw just beyond my backyard. Leaping about in the area that transitions from woods to wetland were five or six deer. There in the narrow meadow I watched while the courtship ritual played out.

The bucks would crash about in the cattails then strike an arresting pose. The does daintily nibbled the grass while feigning disinterest. This went on all day. The photos are unremarkable (Mama needs a telephoto lens for Christmas) except for the change of light as the day progresses. Look hard, there are more deer than you think; the cattails are an effective camouflage.

As daylight fell, the does were still perfecting their doe-eyed glances. I became convinced that I might find a well-worn copy of The Rules if I went out looking in the trampled down sedges. Then finally they all gamboled off together into the woods, hopefully guaranteeing more little spotted Bambis for next year.

 

No-vember

No shade, no shine

No butterflies, no bees

No fruits, no flowers

No leaves, no birds

November

----Thomas Hood

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If A Garden Blog Falls in the Forest, Does Anybody Read It?

I know you're out there. I can tell from the blog-o-meter that my little numbers are growing slowly but steadily. Readers from far flung places like Germany and Wetumpka, Alabama have been paying me a visit. What can I say but welcome Wetumpka! (Don't worry I can't see you.) And it seems I have a very small audience on a previously unknown continent called "other".

I'm just a baby in blog years. However I know that this is supposed to be more conversation than soliloquy. And you're kinda quiet out there. So I'd like to know so far, does this blog make you squirm or want to subscribe? Are there other topics you'd like to see covered? Is it too talky and not enough technique? Is it too short, too long, too what or just right? Is it pithy or pathetic? I'm not fishing for compliments, I just want feedback! Post a comment and let me know. I'm tough. I can take it.

Or post a comment and just say 'Hello'.

I found out quickly that blogging is a lot more than picking out your prettiest pictures and posting your precious thoughts. You have to engage in a little self-promotion, when you'd rather just write. You have to make friends with other blogs. Then you hope they like you and link you on their blogroll of favorites, which is sort of like the internet equivalent of a friendship bracelet. Gee, what if your blog is shy? And then a horrible thought occurs; what if blogging is like high school?

Why would anybody blog in the first place. With 900,000 posts every 24 hours, how can anyone find you out there in the blogosphere? It's like finding one special leaf on this forest floor.

 
I started blogging to keep my writing muscles limber. I started blogging to share my passion for plants and all things nature-y. It's more work than I thought. More surprising, it's more fun than I ever expected.

If a Garden Blog Falls in the Forest, Does Anybody Read It?

I know you're out there. I can see from the blog-o-meter that my little numbers are growing slowly but steadily. Readers from far-flung places like Germany and Wetumpka, Alabama have been paying me a visit. What can I say, but welcome Wetumpka! (Don't worry I can't see you.) And it seems that I have a very small audience on this previously unknown continent called "other".

 
I'm just a baby in blog years. However I know that this is supposed to be more conversation than soliloquy. And you're kinda quiet out there. So I'd like to know so far, does this blog makes you squirm or want to subscribe? Are there other topics you'd like to see covered? Is it too short, too long, too what or just right? More gardening, less nature, or do you like the balance? Is it pithy or pathetic? Post a comment and let me know. I'm tough. I can take it.

Or just post a comment and say 'Hello".

I found out quickly that blogging is a lot more than picking out your prettiest pictures and posting your precious thoughts. You have to engage in a little self-promotion, when you'd just rather write. You have to make friends with other blogs. Then you hope that they like you and link you on their blogroll of favorites, which is sort of like the internet equivalent of a friendship bracelet. Gee, what if your blog is kind of shy? Then a horrible thought occurs; what if blogging is like high school?

Why would anyone blog? With 900,000 posts every 24 hours, how can anyone find you out there in the blogosphere?  It's like finding one special leaf on this forest floor.

 
I started blogging to keep my writing muscles limber. I started blogging to share my passion for gardening and all things nature-y in an immediate venue. It's more work than I thought. More suprising, it's more fun than I ever expected.

So Long, Smith and Hawken

First it was Gourmet magazine and now, Smith and Hawken. Of course Gourmet had more history, more gravitas. But who will furnish our horticultural fantasies now?   Then I looked around my home and peeked out at the garden, looking for a piece of S&H merchandise, some remnant of their aspirational hard goods. And then I thought, "Oh, that's why they've gone broke". Did everyone do as I did; strolled, drooled, and hightailed it off to copy that "Tuscan Villa" look on the cheap? So we have no one but ourselves to blame when we crave a little hit of that garden crack.

Today, when I passed through, the scene was more garage sale than garden terrace. The clerks were still busy, but the vultures had started picking the bones cleaner; they wanted the shelves and brackets off the wall. No one seemed interested the Balinese planters stacked yay-high, but then the $399.00 price tag could have been the problem.

The remaining stock looked a little tatty, even tawdry, and sometimes just sad. The mossy garden gnomes were scuffed, the mourning dove candles were minus their tails, and the plethora of orchid pots sat listless and unwanted. Without the lush displays, the items taken out of context didn't inflame that same lust as before.

I don't think the dream has died, we gardeners will continue to decorate and accessorize our gardens, but with maybe a little more authenticity, the austerity only apparent in the price we pay, and not the exuberance and creativity that necessity inspires. Yet I don't think we will go back to re-purposing bathtubs.

I did remember that I bought this birdbath at S&H a while back, on sale. Still it looked more glamorous in the store surrounded by scented candles and heaped with artificial artichokes than it did a few weeks ago in this photo, filled with pine needles and dirty rain water. But at least I have a piece of the dream.

Smith and Hawken birdbath The Garden Buzz