Oh Give Me a Break!

On grey winter mornings I slip volumes from my bookcase and flip through the pages of garden books to lift my spirits. The sight of glossy green photos coupled with my morning coffee works wonders for my mood during these frozen tundra days in CT. Yesterday was the most uplifting yet. I read a passage that made me laugh out loud. "Never buy plants on impulse."

Ha! Could the author even possibly be a gardener? I can't wait for my flower gardening buddies, Dina and my mum, to read this post since "buy on impulse" is a part of their physical fabric. Could anyone really have the ability to always pass up that new bloom beckoning to them at the nursery? I'd say I would like to meet them, but I'm not sure I do. My brother Pete has the "impulse buy bug" but for vegetable seed packets. You should see his stack!

Moss is Boss

So this may be proof that I'm a little nutty. In the North East we are in the midst of a huge ice and snow storm (again.) What am I worried about? That the shoveling and plowing will pry the moss from between my stones and pavers. It's taken a few years to get going and still in its infancy. I want the "I've been around a long time" look for my new-ish house (not myself, just the house.) I covet those gardens with well-established moss between every stone in every path and climbing on every long-positioned boulder. So, I shovel those areas carefully while my husband does the actually needed work of clearing places for people to walk and cars to drive.

I'm also worried that the branches of my shrubs and trees will break under the heaviness of ice covered snow. My daughter took pictures of me through the window trying to rescue some Azaleas from the crushing weight. Atleast I'm gardening. I know the helmet and goggles are overkill , but the hale really hurts!

Look tomorrow on http://www.durham.patch.com/ for my article on how gardening can accomplish many New Years Resolutions.

Garden Torture

The greenery in this cute rabbit planter is lettuce.

I found it last spring nestled between potted herbs at the Salem Herb Farm(www.Salemherbfarm.com). Someone with a sick sense of humor placed this tasty salad just out of the poor rabbit's reach. Could this be a cruel joke? A farmer's retribution? A warning to all other rabbits to stay out of the lettuce patch?

Picture from Maicar.com

Perhaps this is a witty twist on the Greek myth of Tantalus. Hades punished Tantalus by making him stand chin deep in water with fruit hanging just over his head. Whenever Tantalus tried to drink, the water would recede. Each time he tried to eat, the fruit would move just beyond his grasp. Clearly the lettuce on this rabbit's back is just...out...of...reach.

The Salem Herb Farm is in Salem, CT and a wonderful place to visit. http://www.salemherbfarm.com/.

Goin' back to Cali?

Look what I found blooming in my garden this morning...California Poppies! I thought the recent frosts killed all my annuals except those hardy Rocket Snapdragons. I was wrong. I spied these organge buds while shoveling dog food into bowls for my beasts' breakfast. I must be back living in California if new poppies arrive on November 19th. I might just head off to the beach.

World Record Radish

OK, so it is not the largest radish ever, but it's a biggy! That's a dog-chewed tennis ball in front for size reference.

People claim to grow 100 lb radishes. See here: http://www.amazon.com/Worlds-Largest-Radish-20-Seeds/dp/B000UV3WTA

Our ugly root is surely not the weight of a small person, but I've never come across a bigger radish. My brother Pete planted the seeds last year, excited about growing a German radish touted to pair well with beer. Who doesn't want a vegetable you are encouraged to drink beer with? They self-sowed all over the garden this year and we had an abundance of them. Unfortunately they taste like crap, even with beer, and no one wants to eat them.

If I can't live in the Hamptons...

...atleast I can grow Montauk Daisies. It's the same, right?

Just as the flower season is winding down, these bright bushes display head-turning blooms. Each stem boasts multiple flowers, packing buds into ready-made bouquets. Montauk Daises appear in October saving me just before I buy crysanthemums; the signpost that summer is officially over.

I never want to buy mums in the fall. I view these flowers as the final nail in summer's coffin. Mums are the official starting gun for winter, that long marathon towards spring. I know I skipped fall in that description. I love fall, but I think if I can avoid the mums, I can deny that fall is really a precursor to winter. We'll see if my pots ever hold crysanthemums this year, or if my little slice of the Hamptons holds me off.

Hopefully my front step will look better than it did last year...see my post  "Perennially Behind" under January 2010.

Magic Maine Tomatoes

We took our recent vacation on a sparkly lake in Maine tightly ringed by skyscraper pines. We stayed with wonderful hosts at a friend's "camp" in a delightful cabin. The storybook landscape was the perfect setting to find magic beans for Jack to grow his beanstalk.

To my suprise I did not find magic beans, but fairytale tomatoes. Larry and Carolyn F. grew perfect plants with not a spot of blight or a tinge of yellow on the leaves. The fruit formed perfect orbs with a red so true they appeared plastic. Here's the magic part...they grow in the shade (in Maine) beneath a large evergreen tree. Huh?

In CT my family and I try to follow all the tomato rules. Dry leaves, hot weather, ample spacing and most importantly FULL SUN! So much for the laws of gardening.

Land of the Lost in my own backyard

I had a big dog that used to play a game in our small, San Francisco back yard. She would crouch down behind the boxwood hedge and raise her head extremely slowly until her eyes could just peer over. She would then hold quite still with the exception of her eyes, which panned side to side, surveying the scene. She played the dinsoaur game everyday. It made us laugh every time. It looked like the slow rise of a brontosaurus from behind a tree in a movie.

Well, that silly old girl has passed away and the yard with a boxwood hedge belongs to someone else now. But just the other day, a dinosaur appeared at my new house. It rose over the peonies when I wasn't looking. After a nice week of summer fun with my kids and neglecting my garden, I found the new visitor during an evening deadheading session. This creature wasn't a dog or a dinosaur, but a prehistoric- looking biennial that I planted last year. Angelica Giga. Each flower head erupts from a primordial shaped bud, startling passers by. It's magnificent. I have always wanted one and had almost forgotten about it until it emerged from behind the hedge (of peonies this time.) This "so ugly it's pretty" specimen only blooms once, the second year, which really makes it an expensive annual. But it is surely worth it. I plan to save the seeds and grow my own. I'll report back in two years.

Plants that didn't miss a Beat in the Heat

Connecticut has been unusually hot and dry this year. Each day has brought 90 degrees and higher temperatures with just touches of rain. With only a country well for water, I have been swept back to my California days in the 1990s, conserving garden water at every turn. Unfortunately the carefree, child-free city life of a 20-something married couple did not come with the memory. Just joking kids!

I have fretted over which plants to water and which to sentence to survive desert conditions without a drink from my hose. I don't know at what point my well will run dry, but I don't want to find out. I gave priority to the vegetable garden, potted annuals and any new plants. The following full-sun plants in my garden fared well despite complete neglect (in the order I saw them as I walked around the yard):

Lavendar
Gallardia
Lambs Ears
Roses
Cransebill Geranium
Iris
Sea Grasses
Sedum
Day Lilly
Montauk Daisy
Shasta Daisy
Penstemon
Bronze Fennel
Cone Flower
Phlox
Kent Bell Oregano
Russian Sage
Catmint

All my established shrubs fared fine without a turn at the spigot with one exception. What I belelive is a Niko Blue Hydrangea (I inherited it with the house) did not fare well. It sees little shade and now bares ugly brown blooms that droop their heads in sorrow. Oh well, lesson learned!

Spiders in Your Ears

There are three little words I long to hear: “It’s unseasonably warm.” And it is. That means the start of one of my favorite activities - spring clean up. Many think I am crazy to like the chore. Many understand my glee over spring yard work perfectly.

One of the most rewarding maintenance projects is cleaning out the dead parts of my lambs ears. No, I don’t have farm animals (yet.) I have several Stachys byzantina ‘Helen von Stein’ or Big Lambs' Ears.

Each winter, the leaves die and remain in place. The mushy, ugly grey matter serves as perfect protection from wind, ice and snow. Spiders love to hide in the self-made mulch. Cleaning out the dead leaves and revealing the new green growth can be perilous. Use a light rake and wear thick leather gloves to prevent bites from spiders hiding in your ears.

This job of clearing the cobwebs proves most satisfying. When I am through, the plants transform from ugly mounds of muck to something that resembles and poorly shorn sheep; or a lamb with a bad haircut - if lambs were green.