Reader's Retreat

In this season of designing, planting, weeding, mulching, raking, pruning, it's easy to forget the most important garden activity: enjoying.  Being as devoted to the written word as I am to horticulture, my pastime of choice is always reading.  I'll read just about anything, really, but I love to lose myself in a good novel.  If I can't find a book I long to read, I'll create my own stories.  In fact, I'm following up my recently released new adult novel, FLAWLESS, with a garden-themed work of women's fiction called, TENDING PARADISE, due out this summer.  Enough of the shameless plugging.  This post really is about using the beautiful space you've created as the ultimate reading spot.

I think William Wordsworth said it best (didn't he always?) when he wrote:

“Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,
Are a substantial world, both pure and good:
Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,
Our pastime and our happiness will grow."



Of course this quote is particularly riveting to me because of the seamless way the poet combines reading and horticultural themes.  I find both solace and inspiration in these words, because they reflect my feelings about each topic.  I love to be in the garden, trying to identify the various calls of birds as I pull weeds (this weekend, my husband and I laughed over one insistent chirping which sounded like: cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheese).  I love the rich smell of freshly turned earth, and identifying the new plants emerging (trying to recall, usually, what bulbs I planted last fall), and the soothing, far-off call of a neighbor's lawnmower, which has always, oddly enough, given me a sense of well-being.  I think it's because the buzzing motor acted as a backdrop to my formative years, always present in my modest development, and ensuring others were outside, just like myself, enjoying the outdoors and accomplishing things.

The best way to enjoy the inner landscape of books in the outer landscape of your garden is to find just the right spot to settle with your book.  I usually opt for an Adirondack chair alongside my pond.  When we created the water feature a few years back, my husband insisted on building a small dock along one side--an idea I fought him on.  I have to say, I'm glad he overruled me.  Not only was I reminded to consider the ideas of others when enhancing my garden spaces, but it was a great idea.  I placed the Adirondack chair (it's actually a double chair--looks more like a loveseat) on this little dock, and I always have a secure, level spot to hunker down on.  It's a great place to read, catch a few rays, even share with the frogs who hop onto the slatted planks and join me for a quick respite between fly-catching sessions in the water or on the nearby rocks.

As for the reading part of the equation, well, that's up to you, but I've found a few nature-inspired works to be highly appropriate--and a whole lot of fun to read--in an outdoor setting.  Among my favorite non-fiction reads:  Vita Sackville-West's THE ILLUSTRATED GARDEN BOOK.  Nearly every page is lavishly illustrated with botanical drawings, and rich photos taken at Sackville-West's home gardens at Sissinghurst Castle in Kent, England, a project she undertook during her lifetime, spanning mainly the first half of the last century.  The writing, culled from actual articles written by Sackville-West for the publication, the OBSERVER, is witty and informative.  There are even photos and references to her most famous creation: the White Garden, at Sissinghurst.

My favorite works of fiction emphasizing nature as well as a good plot are: THE SECRET GARDEN, Frances Hodgson Burnett's timeless classic about "Mistress Mary, so contrary," arriving at Misslethwaite Manor on the English moor, and discovering a garden upon the grounds that changed her outlook on life; and WATERSHIP DOWN, by Richard Adams.  In this tale of a hardy band of rabbit adventurers, the reader is privy to a world most overlooked: "The remarkable life that teems in the fields, forests and riverbanks."

If magazines are your thing, I recommend two:  BETTER HOMES AND GARDENS, because of its accessibility--there are always lovely layouts and tips for enhancing your own home and garden--and VERANDA, which details the stuff dreams are made of.  The lush spreads in this periodical, bordering on works of art, reveal the most lavish gardens from around the world, and inspire a simple gardener like myself to dream big. 

In the end, gardens are many things to many people.  For me, gardening, like reading and writing, has always been an outlet for creativity, and a chance to feel a sense of accomplishment.  How do you enjoy your garden?

Memorial Day Tribute

I have so many reasons to love Memorial Day.  On a personal level, my son was born on this special day, so this time of year will always have significance for that reason alone, but long before I had children I loved the holiday.  First of all, the weather is usually pretty good at this time of year.  In fact, even during years when it's chilly, it still stands out on the calendar--and in my mind--as the unofficial start of the warm-weather season.  Memorial Day will forever be linked in my mind with flung-open windows, family picnics, parades and unfurling the flag on my front porch.

Yet as I get older (and hopefully wiser with the quickly passing years), I have become increasingly grateful for our troops.  Not that I was ungrateful in the past.  I like to think I always took at least a little time out of the long weekend to think about the sacrifices so many Americans have made so I can live in freedom in the most amazing country in the world--in the history of the world.  But the young, in general, tend to think in terms of minutes rather than years, and personal concerns often take precedence over preserving the time to honor the lasting legacy our selfless soldiers have provided us with.

It's a humbling experience, when you think about it.  I mean, really, what can I do to pay proper respect to our troops?  How do you thank those who gave their lives for you?  After pondering this question for quite a while, I decided what's best for me, and for each of us perhaps, is to share individual talents and interests with others in ways which honor the commitment of our soldiers.  So, I've planted a red, white, and blue theme in a section of my garden.  I started with the Pulmonaria, commonly known as Lung wort.  The polka-dotted foliage it sports all year is unique, but about a week or so before Memorial Day it puts forth a profusion of bright blue flowers.  Paired with the translucent beauty of the white Foam flower (Tiarella) to its left, and accented by the potted begonia, below (I think a red geranium would work here, too), the effect is pleasingly patriotic.

Each time I walk by this garden I am reminded in living color of all those who sacrificed their lives for the freedom of every one of us who is lucky enough to call The United States of America our home.

Golden Oldies

Perhaps my favorite thing about gardening is the opportunity it provides to connect the present with the past.  Few tactile things so effortlessly bridge day-to-day discoveries with memories, providing that vital link that adds dimension to our gardening experiences.  Who among us, hasn't smiled (albeit wistfully) when the rose bush our grandmother planted sends out it's first fragrant blossoms of the season?  Or savored the taste of an heirloom tomato planted from stock that's been in the family for generations?

When I admire the Japanese maple in my backyard, my mind invariably turns back the years, landing me in that first summer I lived in my home, and noticed the little sapling that was only as tall as the day lilies surrounding it.  Now it towers over the nearby stellata magnolia, and had surpassed the Cornus kousa dogwood which once dwarfed it.  Like my children, it has undergone the natural process of development, and all the growing pains of being trampled under toddler feet, climbed by neighborhood natives (cats, squirrels--even a raccoon), and more than one unfortunate pruning incident.  And, like my kids, it has become gracefully mature because of--and in spite of--my efforts and wishes.

This live link I have with the past is not unique.  It's all around us.  While spending the weekend at our summer place, I noticed something so wonderful in my neighbor's front yard, that I had to whip out my camera and capture the magic: a profusion of golden blossoms trailing along a stone wall.  The light of the late-afternoon sun cast a honeyed hue that intensified the golden effect of the plant, Aurinia saxatilis, commonly known as Basket of Gold, and turned this plant, with nondescript foliage that

is easily overlooked when not in bloom, into a shining example of nature's splendor.

When I asked my neighbor about it, he smiled and told me his mother planted it many years ago.  I recalled his mother, who has since passed on: how she loved animals and plants.  I glanced back at her magnificent handiwork and thought how fortunate it was to have a little bit of her still with us.  Nature provides for us this universal comfort, this reminder that those we loved and lost are not only still in our hearts, but in our world today--in the plants they tenderly coaxed from the soil of our shared past.

Celebrity Sighting

It always amazes me how nature reflects events in our own personal lives.  Or maybe it's the other way around.  Perhaps we take our cues from the great outdoors, dragging the notions inside and trying them on for size.  That's certainly what the viburnum "bush" outside my bathroom window does (technically it's considered a shrub, but at two stories high, I always think of this beauty as an all-out tree).  Each May, the plant's buds burst forth in an aroma of floral embellishment that would put even the most famous designers and perfumers to shame.

Like its human counterparts, who wait for the warm weather to plan life's main events--graduations, weddings, special days set aside to honor mothers and fathers--the viburnum is one of the many celebrities of my garden which chooses this month to put on a show and draw attention to itself.  By mid-month, you can find it decked out like a blushing bride in white buds with just a hint of rosy tint.  And the heady aroma it emits has been known to stop more than one garden visitor in her tracks.

To pause, look up, breath deeply, and stare at this wonder of natural beauty is a treat, but I'm sure the viburnum considers it appropriate behavior.  After all, we're each a bit (even if it's a tiny bit) mesmerized by celebrity sightings, and the intrigue we feel in this plant's presence is fitting.

Don't you agree?

This Native is Restless

Why is it that I  can find all manner of exotic plants at my local nursery--tree peonies and bamboo from Asia, Australian eucalyptus, tulip bulbs from the Netherlands and dozens of varieties of gladiolus from South Africa--but none of my local plant outlets carry the native plants I want?

I've recently begun working with a municipality near my own upstate New York town in an effort to use native plantings around a pond to deter Canada geese from taking over.  My choices for this project were based on the zone requirements, size, aggressiveness, maintenance, cost and availability of the native plantings--and who would have thought that I was good on all counts except the "availability" issue?  I mean, honestly, how can that be?  But my trek through half a dozen local nurseries in my area turned up nothing!  These plants grow here, like, in nature  Can they really be that hard to find?  Apparently, yes.  Why?  Nobody I asked could answer that.

Fortunately we live in a technical world, and if I can't find the American Sweet flag that is supposed to thrive in my local ponds anywhere within a three-county area (though I could find the similar Japanese Iris ensata in every single place I looked), I can always find it on the web.  My search, in fact, turned up a number of great resources.  Two were particularly good:  nichegardens.com and Americannativeplants.com.  These sites had the plants I needed, readily available and able to ship within a day or so, as well as a wealth of knowledge about the habits, needs, costs, etc. of native plantings.  To order these "exotic" native plants, or to just find out more about them, check out the sites!

Avoiding "Cat"astrophe

So, I'm an animal lover.   In fact, my whole family is.  No surprise to anyone who's ever visited us, and encountered not only two perky pups and my much-loved, highly touted flop-eared rabbit, but step into my garden and it's a veritable Wild Kingdom.  There are the 19 or so frogs that inhabit the pond, digging themselves into the mud at the bottom of it each winter and emerging with the daffodils in spring.  And there are my beloved birds who come in droves--literally.  Last week marked the first sighting of about 20 red-winged blackbirds to the mini bird sanctuary outside my kitchen window (we've planted barberry trees for food and perching, bird feeders for those who like to dangle when they dine, and a birdbath for those robins who can't resist the spa treatment).  But the one animal ostentatiously absent from our yard was the cat--until now.  Seems nature has seen fit to fill the void (as your grandmothers used to say: 'there's a lid for every pot,' but I will cease with the cliches because, as my husband so aptly points out, I always get them wrong!).

This oversight on our part was not intentional.  In fact, at one point we had three cats, who were about as pampered as any pets could be.  But as they passed on to the bigger, better beyond, other lovable critters found ways to burrow into our home and hearts.  Dakota Fred changed all that.  Big ole beauty that he is, all black and white and full of attitude, he struts his stuff around the yard like he owns the place (which, of course, he does.  Every other creature gives him a wide berth).  Our daughter gave him the unique name, which he proudly lives up to.  A feral cat to the core, he earns his place in our space by feeding extensively on the brown field mice that abound, scattering the rabbits that would otherwise run rampant (check out my previous post) and tearing after even the largest gophers. 

Lately a sweet gray tabby has taken up residence in the forsythia bushes.  Although I believe she belongs to a neighbor around the block, she is happy to share herself with us, watching me pull weeds, take cat naps in the patio furniture or drink from our pond.  She has a darling round face and large amber eyes, and having her around makes me smile.

Yet I seldom smile when I see how the cats have made use of my mulch, which appears to double as a kitty latrine.  For these areas, I sprinkle cayenne pepper or powdered Chinese pepper around the perimeter of the beds.  For the cats' favorite digging spot, I go all out and pour a couple ounces of white vinegar in a spray bottle and bomb the area.  I'm always careful to keep this away from my plants though.  As I've previously posted, I use white vinegar to kill weeds too.  Vinegar is especially good because it smells so bad.  If humans' 5-20 million olfactory cells can pick up the stench of the stuff, just imagine how horrible it must smell to cats, who have 60-80 million of these cells!  In fact, cats have such a keen sense of smell that even scents we enjoy--like citrus--are horribly overpowering to them. 

So, keep the cats coming, but  lose the outside litter box by planting lots of citrus-scented plants (my favorite is 'Powis Castle' artemesia, which smells like citrus and also has camphor--a well-known deterrent).  With any luck, they'll head to your neighbor's house to do their business!