Sustainable Gardening Blog

Next in the parade of Shrubs I Love is a weigelia or weigela - spellings differ so whichever you use, people who know better will correct you. I’m hoping someone will tell me which is correct just for the record but honestly, it’s so damn lovely right now I don’t really care.  And why settle for one photo when I’ve downloaded about a dozen?

Since you guys have been patiently teaching me what you want to know about the plants I feature, I’ll start with my notes but feel free to ask questions - I know you will.

Hardy to Zone 5, this and other weigelias need a half-day or more of sun, bloom in late spring and this ‘White Knight’ at maturity is now 4′ tall and 8′ wide.  Definitely drought-tolerant, and requiring minimal pruning.  After six years now, the only pruning it’s received is a little limbing up to keep it off the groundcover.  It just naturally has this lovely arching form.  My pruning book tells me I may eventually have to remove old canes to the ground to rejuvenate it, like I’ve done with the old 10-foot-tall common weigelias that conveyed with my property, a process that worked really well because they grow back so quickly.  And though this one hasn’t needed it, =-generally right after flowering is a good time to thin stems or to cut back "untidy shoots" by half, "keeping the habit of the plant."  Damn right I want to keep the habit.

Bottom line, if this isn’t a high-impact, low-maintenance plant, I don’t know what is. 

Okay, you’ve asked to see more, so here’s my back garden at its most colorful.  Old-timers might suggest that spring isn’t the most interesting time in the garden, and I see the point.  But after winter don’t we deserve a big jolt of color?  Sure we do, even if it’s azaleas at their gawdiest. 

Now a little garden history.  None of this was here in 1985, just jungle in front of the tall trees.  And where the border on the left now exists was a large gully that needed filling in.

So I cleared the jungle, contacted a local nursery for their free-design-with-plants, and did exactly what the designer told me to do - and never regretted it.  Hell, I’m still thanking the now nameless and faceless young woman who created the garden’s first shape, with its inviting path into the woods.  Though the borders have gradually gotten larger and the lawn smaller over the years, the spirit of the original design lasts.  I added the drystream four years ago and now it’s so integral to the feel of the space, I can’t remember it not being there.

I’ll be sharing lots of ground views and plant close-ups throughout the season.  Pretty soon I won’t remember the bad old days of having no one to share my garden photos with. 

Dear Dave: 
I’m writing to recommend the dog-human duo destined to become your best Stupid Pet Trick of All Time.  The justly famous Edgar Allen Poo and owner Joell Silverman recently auditioned for Stupid Pet Trick honors and although auditions are continuing across the country, believe me when I tell you you need look no further.

And Dave, if you select Joell and Edgar for your show I can promise I’ll help publicize their appearance here on my very own gardening blog.  (You’re not a reader?  Well, you’re a city guy, so that’s okay.)  The connection to gardening is that when she’s not competing with Edgar at dog obedience trials or, more recently, dog dancing competitions, Joell can be found tending her Washington, D.C. garden.  Yes, she’s the latest subject of my practically famous series, Really Cool People Who Garden.  She’s even been known to take time out of her busy schedule to read my blog and comment, though under the pseudonym "Millie."

In closing, I think I can go so far as to promise a ratings boost if you choose Joell and Edgar.  And those annoying corporate suits you’re always whining complaining about?  They’ll be begging for more. 
Sincerely,
Susan Harris
P.S.  And if you book this wonderful act, I promise I’ll start watching your show.

The Mid-Atlantic region may be in full Azaleamania right now but let’s not forget what I’ll modestly call the Queen of Shrubs, the glorious doublefile viburnum.  I was practically forced to buy these plants back in ‘86 when I used the free services of a nursery’s landscape department to create a border between the lawn and the woods; it was February and these guys looked totally unpromising.  But the designer swore by them and I took the leap into unknown plant territory, along with several more of my now-favorites. 

A final thought about these photos, especially the top one.  It illustrates a point I’ve been known to harp on - that borders look best when the plants are layered, from large trees to understory trees to shrubs, to perennials, to groundcover.  Not only does it create enclosure and privacy, and therefore create a garden, but it mimics nature’s own design for forests transitioning into meadows, the prototype for our borders-around-lawn.  Interestingly, we humans seem to respond most to nature’s own design, even when it’s a helluva lot of work to create it.  It’s one of many reasons that naturalistic design is so popular and, I venture to predict, will stay that way.

Here’s more, after reading my very first comment:  Damn, I still didn’t say enough.  Excellent question, about when to start removing older stems.  First, I’ve seen lots of these shrubs in nurseries with really crowded stems and in need of a good thinning out, so start there if you have a young one.  That’ll give it a better structure to grow on, and the removal of old stems probably won’t be necessary for the first few years.  Then the first time you get one of those awkward, too-tall stems, remove it completely.

And just one more thing about pruning.  If you happen to have any old,  overgrown and top-heavy viburnum of any type, I’d recommend a severe hacking back of all the stems, to the base or close to it.  I did this to the pom-pom viburnum and it came roaring back with renewed vigor and a much better shape, and reached 2/3 of its original height in one season. Pruning by Peter McCoy - my Bible on the subject -  gave me the courage to try it and it worked. 

Good homes were found for passels of passalong plants today at a small, beautifully landscaped rec center.  Our Spring Plant Exchange drew 50 participants, the best turn-out in recent memory.  Naturally we patted ourselves on the communal back for recently turning 90 years old, which we think makes us the OLDEST GARDEN CLUB IN THE U.S. (and if you know of one older, do let me know).  We were even taped for our local cable TV station - interviews and all.

Here’s how it works.  Members are invited to bring as many or as few plants as they choose to bring and if they have no plants, tools or gardening books are fine, or just a nice snack for the event.  After all, some folks have full gardens and are looking for good homes for their surplus plants and some folks have lots of empty space to fill.

We spent the first 45 minutes seated with the lush array of FREE PLANTS arrayed across the room, pouring over the 5 large tables provided for them, as each person showed us the plants they’ve brought and told us something about them.  Occasionally the group asked questions.  So lots of information was being tossed about, with live green examples on lucious display. Then when I blew an imaginery whistle - hey, I think I’ll buy one! - it was like Wal-Mart opening its doors the day after Thanksgiving, such was the determination of the plant-takers.  They got to choose only one thing at the first imaginery whistle blow, then stand back and pause to plan their next move, which was to jump up again and grab as many plants as they could. 

I was able to observe the mayhem from a nice corner spot because I’d already grabbed my prize. A member donated a book she just knew I’d want, and she was right.  It’s Jerry Baker’s Backyard Problem Solver.  Readers here won’t be surprised to learn that I wanted it coz it’s such terrific rant material, akin possibly to a liberal watching Bill O’Reilly.  Not to mention that now when someone asks me for quotes illustrating Jerry’s amazing quackery, I’ll have them at the ready. 

What I gave away was quite a haul - 4 full-grown hydrangeas and a weeping spruce.  These big items were very popular and went on the first round and I look forward to seeing them thriving in someone else’s garden. The claimers of the spruce were Dave and Joe - this is Dave perusing the plants - and I was especially happy to see it go home with them.  More and more I find my favorite gardens are chockful of conifers, and theirs is a gorgeous example.

So here’s my pitch.  Why aren’t these wonderful events going on in every community, one or more each season?  They help people create gardens, educate gardeners of all levels, and create community while they’re doing it.  And though their money-saving virtues are obvious, most of these plants are something money can’t buy - fully grown.

Now everyone did pay their yearly dues - many of our events are free to the public, but not this one - all of 12 bucks a year for 2 plant exchanges and everything else the club does.  We’re able to keep dues this low and inclusive thanks to our free event space and most of all, transitioning to communicating via email and the club website.

And isn’t it possible that even without a garden club of some sort, any neighborhood association or town could put on an event like this?  Of course for all I know, they’re going on in communities everywhere and I’m just not aware of them.  I hope so.

Wikipedia tells us that witch-hunting is the persecution of a perceived enemy with extreme prejudice and disregard of actual guilt or innocence; it’s a type of "moral panic."  Okay, I think I have the right term, but you be the judge.

I saw this item on a garden writers listserv.  The Columbus Dispatch published a story about "Invasives and their Alternatives."  Unfortunately, it included "day lilies" (sic) in the list of bad guys and even showed a photo of a lovely red one above the caption: "New aliens climbing out of the bed, into the wild."  Trouble is, only the species daylily - the orange "ditch lily" - is a problem, not the untold thousands of hybrids that are available - you know, the ones we might actually buy and put in our gardens, like the lovely and falsely charged red one in the story.

Well, of all the places to malign daylilies unfairly, Columbus has gotta be the worst.  Not only is it the home of prominent daylily hybridizers and nurseries, but the site of this year’s American Hemerocallis Society Convention, for god’s sake, so you could say that notice was taken of this article and its misdirected accusations.  The Society jumped on the case immediately, seeking a retraction from the Dispatch, but you know how effective that will be.  Damage has been done. 

My second example is from a talk I heard recently by a plant expert from the University of Maryland.  When asked if ornamental grasses are invasive she declared that Miscanthus sinensis is, yesiree.  At which point I jumped into the fray to ask, "Isn’t it just the species, not varieties like ‘Morning Light’"?  And to my surprise she responded that yes, in our area it’s just the species that’s a problem.  So why the hell didn’t she say that in the first place? 

So like the listserv member who raised this interesting item and suggested that perhaps the Columbus Dispatch writer could learn to "pay more attention to her research," I wish everyone who uses the dreaded "i" word would at least try to get their facts right. Like exactly what plant, where, and under what growing conditions.  After all, when that label is directed to gardeners and the plants we grow, isn’t the purpose to induce us to rip them out and toss ‘em?  And I may be going out on a limb here but in my experience, we’d rather not.

[Photos:  I promise this is the last of the tulip shots, both from the Tulip Library on the Mall.]

You don’t want to know the torture I went through to get started digitally back in 2000, and I don’t want to remember it all that vividly myself.  So suffice it to say it was HELL, I tell you, so I know how frustrating it can be to make that great leap.  SO much to learn, most of it totally alien.   I’ve even been stressed-out like crazy about switching to a better camera and better software, so much so that
it’s taken me months to actually start using my new camera and
buy a new editing program.  But Ta-Da: here are my first real
photos with my new Canon PowerShot SD550, recommended by the excellent
photographer Judith at Knitagarden.

And for anyone starting out, here’s what I recommend for putting together the right camera, programs and connecting hardware and getting it all started:  Buy from a Real Camera Store, one with a staff member who knows all about digital photography, then call or stop by with questions.  Yes, I know it means paying a little more than you’d pay on line, but it’s totally worth it.  You don’t want to be one of the millions with new digital cameras sitting unused in their closets, do you?  And we all like supporting independent camera retailers, anyway, don’t we?  I thought so. 

I had the good fortune to buy my new Canon from Penn Camera on E Street in N.W. Washington, which enjoys the sales services of the truly terrific Melanie Otto a day or two a week. Most of the time she’s doing her own photography and teaching digital photography, both in groups and privately.  God, I wish she’d been around in 2000 when I first jumped into the deep end witn no adult supervision.  Even the Ritz Camera where I bought my old Olympus knew nothing; it was probably too new for them, too.  In every way, I went digial too early.  More evidence? The camera had only 2.1 megapixels - gasp - and cost $750 - go ahead and gasp again.  How far they’ve come in a mere 6 years is awesome.

[Photos: First is a follow-up to a recent post where I asked what the heck a garden fork is and thanks to Alice in Canberra, I realized it’s this very helpful tool planted in my tulip garden.  Next are the China Pink lily-shaped tulips that returned from last year - I’m liking them more than ever and may even buy more next fall.  They’re against a background of Euphorbia x Martinii in bloom.  And finally, a lovely spring scene from my neighbors’ garden.]

It’s 7:45 Easter morning and the tourists are lined up for blocks for their busses, or to go up the Washington Monument.  Parking near the Lincoln Memorial is already packed.  But for the Tulip Library, which brightens the landscape between the Tidal Basin and the Washington Monument, there were no takers, so I was alone.  Which was a good thing because taking shots like these requires the assumption of the prone position, you know.

Let me be the first to thank Andrea at Heavy Petal for the prize that arrived in today’s mail - a CobraHead "precision weeder and cultivator,"  which I won because my little essay on how I got started gardening was chosen as the best of the bunch.  Well, actually the four winners were chosen at random but who’s to know?   Having recently read some raves about this little tool on a garden forum I’d been perusing, I knew a good thing was coming my way.

And while I confess I haven’t tried it yet, I’m already convinced by the enthusiastic testimonials, one of which called it addicting.  Well, all I need is to become even more addicted to gardening, so I’ll take that as a precautionary note.

A quick question for my ever-astute readers, and a short comment.  First, the enclosed information tells me that "Working in conjunction with a good garden fork, there is no bed too tough to be quickly weeded."  Okay, what the hell is a garden fork?  My first guess was a cultivator but this tool is intended to be used to cultivate, so it can’t be that.  Guesses?  Could it be what we Easterners call a garden rake?

And there’s a testimonial that caught my eye. A gardener in Wisconsin wrote that she was amazed - exclamation point - because "I have always employed more of a soak it and pull by hand
weeding style, rather than using a tool for the job. Battling weeds
this way is just that, a battle."  No offense, but humans have been using tools now for, I don’t know, ages, and I wonder why she’d never given it a try until recently being given this one.  M. Sinclair Stevens in Texas, do you suppose the term "Luddite" would apply here, too?  (I was corrected when I referred to a computer-deprived tree-grower as a "Neanderthal" because apparently Neanderthals were enamored with technology, unlike the clueless Luddites of the world.  Now I’m using "Luddite" every chance I can.  Previously my favorite word was troglodyte, someone who lives in a cave.  Very handy word, too, and it’s nice to know the subtle differences, as I know Sinclair would agree.)

And Andrea, have you guys set a date?  Don’t keep us in the dark.

Remember, loyal readers, how excited I was about my latest tulip design when I planted the bulbs last fall?  I believe I said it would be PERFECT, so maybe I should learn something about hubris from this sad story, but gardeners are an excitable bunch and I know you all understand.

The Design:  In between perennials in the front of a sunny border I planted three Single Late tulips, chosen because they bloom after most of my daffs but with the dogwoods and azaleas and because they’re all the same type and presumably would bloom at the same time, a very important factor in tulip design, believe you me.  So from the fine bulb supplier John Scheepers (no cheap pot-luck bulbs from Home Depot, nosiree) I ordered the purple Cum Laude, the "pink" Esther and the "pale yellow" Francoise, for a total of 50. 

Anyway, here’s the border and here’s what popped up.  We’re supposed to see yellow at the bottom, then purple, and pink on top.  First, do you see any purple?  Neither do I.  Or, for that matter, do you see any pink or yellow?  Those Esthers look orangey-red to my eyes and the "pale yellow" sure looks like white.  I know color’s a subjective thing and I may be picking nits, but remember, this was gonna be PERFECT.

But back to the missing purple Cum Laudes, a clear case of trouble in tulipland.  First a photo of Cum Laudes in their tall glory in someone else’s garden, and here’s a shot of what came up instead.  They’re really short rose-colored lily-shaped tulips, probably China Pink.

What Went Wrong?  At first I thought the good folks at Scheepers had sent me the wrong bulbs, but in writing this post I realize I planted China Pinks a few years back and while they’re much shorter this time around, they’re back.  So the mystery is: Where the hell are the tall purple Cum Laudes?  Did they all fail?  Did I just imagine planting them?  And why am I having to deal with yet another failed tulip design when it seemed like I was doing everything right and this just isn’t fair?