Animal Kingdom

One thing I didn't give much thought to when I bought my home, and began turning the house and gardens into exactly what I wanted, was that every critter within a ten-mile radius would be equally enticed by my plans.  I often joke that my property would be the perfect site for a reality show on Animal Planet, because I've had no less than 10 different species setting up housekeeping on my property, and in my home.

Besides the variety of birds and frogs of all shapes and sizes, which have staked a claim to the patio and pond, we've had a snake in our basement, a rabbit in our daughter's room (okay, we actually put her there), a skunk under our front porch, bats in our attic and son's room (he very nonchalantly told us one was "flying around the fan," to which we promptly responded by cringing, whimpering, and all manner of undignified, "non-adult-like" behavior), a chipmunk in our dining room (that's a good story), a squirrel in our kitchen (that's an even better story), and a raccoon in our front-porch overhang (the best story yet).

We've had mice in our garage, basement, and even our closets (hence my foray into foam, plugging every crack in the place, and prompting my husband to dub me "The Great Mouse Hunter."), gophers in our garden, a baby deer sleeping in the day lilies, and an opossum in our back yard, which surprised my two pooches and I with its rather creepy hissing.

One year, a family of squirrels decided to worm their way under our siding, creating a place for themselves in our walls.  Hubby had to shew them out.  "Ha," said I.  "Who's The Great Mouse Hunter now?"  He laughed and explained the title was still mine.  He was going after bigger game (pretty ironic when I recall that he won't even kill a spider--he catches insects in cups, then sets them free outside--we both do).

A few weeks ago, we began adding to a wall on our patio, which prompted much curiosity amongst the chipmunks who hang out in that area--a prime piece of real estate right under the bird feeder.  My husband had painstakingly set cement blocks in place, only to be thwarted by the little buggers, who decided to call his newest creation "home."  As he set mortar around the blocks, he started to worry: what if he sealed them inside?  And what if they'd had babies in there?  No worries...he came up with the perfect solution: he'd make a little "doorway" for them, by cutting a hole in a block.  Here's the result:

Most recently, the stray cats in the area have taken up residence in our shed, and I let them be.  They earn their meager keep by chasing all the other critters away (except the chipmunks and squirrels--they're usually too fast to get caught).  And since I'm a cat lover, I enjoy their company.  They sunbathe a few yards away from me when I'm planting and pulling up weeds.  I smile and leave them to enjoy their well-earned place in the sun, thinking if I was an animal, I'd want to live here too.

When Do We Fall in Love with Nature?

When do we fall in love with nature?  Are we born with the capacity, or do we learn it?  Both.  At least that's what I think.  Some of my first childhood memories involve gathering Goldenrod and Queen Anne's Lace into massive bouquets while sitting under the sycamore tree of my parent's first back yard.  Neighbors told me the plants were weeds, and I didn't know what that meant other than that it was a negative thing, and the beautiful flowers were somehow discounted in my mind.  Today I plant them in my garden.  Nowadays Solidago (AKA Goldenrod), a native plant, is prized for its gorgeous golden glow and easy care in late summer gardens.  And Queen Anne's Lace, a wild carrot which actually made its way to the U.S. from England generations ago, has earned its rightful place in American gardens as a naturalized citizen, accenting our landscape with its delicately patterned white blooms.

As I ponder the nature of our bond with our natural surroundings, I realize I've never heard anyone say, "I hate nature."  Think about it.  People say, "I hate bugs," "I hate bees," or "I can't stand smog or pollution (not actually products of nature)."  People love to gripe about rain, sun, wind, heat, cold...the list goes on and on.  But nobody dislikes all of it.  It would be like hating to breathe.

This past weekend I headed north, to the Adirondacks, where my family owns a modest place, an honest-to-goodness summer camp, with original plank doors, plenty of the iconic Adirondack chairs scattered about, and a slew of memories clinging to it like the birch-bark wallpaper decorating my childhood friend's lake house walls, down the road.  And for the first time in many years, a few of those buddies from long ago made their way back to our lake on the same day as I.  They dropped by to catch up, and brought with them memories of our shared love affair with nature.

My mind catapulted to a time, further back in years than I'd like to admit, when skinny kids scrambled up pine-needle-strewn paths to the summit of Buck Mountain, hid in the birch trees during an impromptu game of Cops & Robbers, and sat on a jutting point of rocks in the middle of the night, dipping toes into the lake, and staring up at the stars in the vast night sky.

These days, most of us have kids of our own.  We share with them stories of how we sailed in our little Sunfish boats, jumped off the nearby cliffs, and fed the ducks in the swamp, even as we make new memories with them.  I fondly recall the morning a friend and I struck out across the lake in a rubber raft as I paddle my kids around in our kayak.  I look for bullfrogs out past the beach, remembering my

friend's kid brother searching for them in the exact same spot many years earlier.  And a feeling swells within me: part nostalgia, part contentment, but all love.

Are we born with this love of our natural world?  Yes.  But it's by experiencing nature together that we allow it to flourish and grow.

Rock It!

The other day I was hanging out at my rock supplier's office (doesn't everybody do that?), sampling yet another style of "the hard stuff" for a tricky spot in my side yard, when he asked me: "What are you doing with all these rocks?  Do you eat them?"  I laughed, of course, because he's onto something here.  No, I don't trickle pea pebbles into my morning cereal, but I do admit to--shall we call it a preoccupation with the variety of available rocks out there.  The shapes and sizes, colors and textures have become as important to me--and the look I'm trying to achieve in my garden space--as the plantings.

I first fell like a rock (had to do it...sorry...too tempting) for granite when I visited a wholesaler in my area during a quest for a unique counter top.  It wasn't until I walked the aisles, amazed by the stunning array of granite from all over the world, that I truly appreciated the natural beauty of stone.  It comes in every color imaginable--red, black, yellow, white, gray--even blue.  I've seen slabs with veins of orange, cranberry and purple.  And the surfaces that are naturally embedded with glistening quartz are nothing short of dazzling.

It was only a matter of time before I transferred my new-found love to the great outdoors.  And now I've incorporated this "hardscaping" into nooks and crannies around my property.  At this point, I have about six varieties of stone gracing my modest acre lot, beginning with the "Salt and Pepper" pea stone alongside my brick driveway.  It's small enough to drive over, and gives me added, attractive parking space for our ever-growing collection of cars.  Since my house is white with gray trim, the varying shades of gray in the stone match the color scheme nicely.

I have the requisite blue stone in areas that need drainage, red river pebbles under wrought iron arches leading to the back yard, gold and white pea pebbles in and around my pond, and my most recent purchase--gray egg-sized (and shaped) river rock around my side yard--that tricky spot under my garden hose.   It may seem like a mishmash of stone sizes and shapes, but it is actually key to defining separate areas of my yard.  Like rooms in a house, we often change the flooring (think carpet in the bedroom, and tile in the kitchen) to define different spaces.  Paying particular attention to the needs of your garden, you, too, can define various spaces with the clever use of stone.

Government Assistance

The other day my friend called me with an offer I could not refuse: free mulch!  Okay, I admit it, I was excited.  Better still, she said, I could have as much as I wanted!  Well, now I was ecstatic!  I envisioned every tree, bush and flower in my yard surrounded by plush pillows of pine bark--without my having to fork over $4.50 a bag!  My enthusiasm foretold not only the woeful fact that I probably need to make more of an effort socially (my heart races at the prospect of culling free mulch while my friends get pumped for a day at the spa with the girls), but the universal truth: we all love to get something for nothing.

I mean, really, think about it.  Who among us has not already earmarked just where we're spending that 100 million we're sure we're gonna win in the lottery?  As the saying goes, "There's no such thing as a free lunch."  Apparently that adage does not apply to mulch--or drainage stone, if you play your cards right.  So what am I yammering on about?  Freebies from none other than our local municipalities.  Seems that tremendous mulch pile was ripe for the picking: literally tons of it spread out on the asphalt right next to the town roller hockey rink.  When towns have hard winters or lots of storms, trees fall.  When trees fall they need to be chopped up and discarded.  Well, we had a very long, cold, tree-damaging winter in the northeast, and that's a lot of tree debris with nowhere to go.

Now most of us aren't used to getting freebies--especially from the government--so even as I drove to the mulch site, I was doubtful.  As my friend and I unloaded our old compound buckets and began shoveling up the stuff like prospectors digging for gold, I found myself looking over my shoulder.  And when the site supervisor drove over to us in his golf cart, I cracked a joke, hoping it would soften him up enough that he wouldn't scold me for stealing.  But, much to my pleasant surprise, he smiled and told me to take as much as I wanted.  And by the way, my wisecrack involved asking if the nearby blue stone pile was up for grabs too--and it was!

The moral of this story?  When you're looking for garden staples, like mulch and drainage stone, put in a call to town hall.  Oh, and, if you're going to post pictures of your friends, best to get a shot of them in a chic restaurant or out on the dance floor, not digging in a 30-foot pile of dirt!  Fortunately this lovely friend is a natural beauty with a forgiving heart!

               

Portable Plant Party!

 

Container gardening is not a new concept.  Most of us have been piling annuals in planters for years, but new innovations and ideas are adding purpose and pizazz to our humble pots.  From fully functional container vegetable, fruit and herb gardens to exotic patio plantings in unique contraptions, the plant-filled containers of today have come a long way, baby!

A few days ago I attended a seminar on container gardening at my local library, which hosted the event in tandem with the Cornell Cooperative Extension, affiliated with Cornell University in Ithaca, New York.  I always enjoy these offerings because one can glean golden nuggets of information from professionals.  On this particular evening, two master gardeners from the extension shared tips and tricks on container gardening.  The most fascinating bit of info to me was the latest news on growing food in containers, which, incidentally, is growing in popularity as people become more health-conscious, and want home-grown, pesticide-free vegetables, herbs and fruits.

According to the pros, Burpee has just introduced a cultivar of corn that can be grown in containers!  A typical container will yield 3-4 ears!  How cool is that?  If you go on Burpee.com you can read all about their new "On Deck Hybrid," a bicolor variety that reaches 4-5', and adds vertical interest to pots.

Of course, before you add the plants, the soil must be impeccable.  Container gardening season is short, so it's imperative to make the most out of what you've got.  No, I don't mean spraying all manner of concoctions--especially those with potential to harm the environment.  I'm advocating, as usual, simple, eco-friendly ways to boost garden soil without affecting wildlife, domestic animals, and ourselves.  The best garden soil comes right from the bottom of your composting pile.  Don't have a composting pile?  Most new housing developments don't, but if you have a wooded area on your property--or have access to one--you've got natural compost at your disposal.  Simply take a nature walk with a spade and a few pots, and dig under the layer of leaves that have collected at tree bases.  The soil underneath will be a rich, dark brown: a treasure trove of plant-loving nutrients creating the lovely, deep color.

I always stir a bit of potting soil and/or peat into the mix--about 20%-40%--then add some composted pine bark, about 20%.  According to the CCE's master gardeners, this is a magical formula.  They pointed out that most straight-up garden soil tends to harden in pots (though this is less prevalent when using the highly composted variety just discussed).  Other recommendations include adding (about 10%-20%) two natural, toxin-free substances: Vermiculite or Perlite.

We've all heard about these materials, and we've learned that they're good for our soil--and growing strong, healthy plants.  But why?  What are they, exactly?  Vermiculite is a clay of weathered mica--rich in magnesium.  It's great when combined with peat and composted pine bark to promote faster root growth via its high water-holding and air-holding capacity.  Perlite is volcanic glass, heated to the point where the glassy material expands to 20 times it's original size, due to water trapped inside the glassy particles.  What's good about this? Like Vermiculite, it holds water and air in the soil, allows for pockets of air around tender roots, keeping soil from compacting around them, and smothering them.  And like the former, it insulates vulnerable roots against rapid temperature changes--a particular concern when planting in pots, which don't have acres of earth to act as a natural blanket.

But what to plant?  That's the easy--and fun--part!  Plant what you love.  I enjoy multiple pots of geraniums; I've been known to put dozens on my front porch.  When fall winds down, I gently pull the plants from their pots and hang them upside down in my basement.  I know it sounds barbaric, but it works (though it can get quite messy).  I've had the same plants for about 6 years now.  Other great choices (as seen in the photo) are: wax begonia (these lend themselves nicely to window boxes, because they don't become unruly), Torenia, Angelonia, Lantana, Verbena, Bacopa, Dianthus Lobelia...the list goes on and on.  You can even mix and match herbs, fruits and veggies in your flowerpots.

One way to ensure the plants look great is by incorporating the "Thriller, Filler, Spiller" method of designing plantings in pots.  The master gardeners at my library event pointed this out, making me smile, because I'd learned this many years ago, when I studied at New York's Botanical Garden.  Basically , it's about balance in the pot--with height, width, growth habit and color all considerations.  An example of this would be to put a large, vertical plant in the center of the pot--like a purple Persian shield.  That's the "thriller."  Then apply the "filler" in the form of something full and frothy, like a Euphorbia, 'Diamond Frost', which gets tons of tiny white flowers, for an ethereal effect.  Finally, the "spiller"--a trailing "wave" petunia.  Try deep purple for a more monochromatic look, or go with a splashier shade--like a popsicle pink.  Other colorful choices for containers include Celosia (but pop the flowers off say the master gardeners, until the plant fully establishes) and Nasturtium, which you can add right to pots in seed form.  Simply poke seeds between existing plants, and watch them twine around in a lovely symphony of hues!

Premier Pollinators

As many of us battle with pollen-induced allergies, and green dust from the trees settles on everything around us, we aren't thinking of the dwindling number of pollinators in our environment.  But we probably should be.  Most of us are aware that honey bee populations are diminishing at alarming rates.  It's been (thankfully) all over the news.  There are a number of theories as to why our beloved honey bees aren't thriving like they once were, but research indicates that bee populations exposed to pesticide spraying can take 3 to 4 years to recover.  This is true of all bee and wildlife populations, but perhaps honey bees are particularly susceptible?

Naturally, I'm concerned by these findings, and I certainly want to stop this alarming trend by supporting the idea of eco-friendly alternatives to pesticides.  This is not a revolutionary idea, I know.  And I am happy so many people are taking notice, but did you know that the honey bee isn't even a native of the United States?  Brought over by the first European settlers about 1622, the honey bee has adapted beautifully and played its part in the American dream.  It deserves to keep its well-won title as one of the best pollinators this country's flowers and vegetables have ever known.  It accounts for about 15%, or $15-billion, to the nation's plant production, but here's the crazy thing: 80% of our nation's pollinators are native bees (think bumble bee and carpenter bee), flies, wasps, butterflies, beetles and hummingbirds.  Did you know that?  I didn't!

When a friend asked me to do a post on great pollinators, I came across these fascinating facts: #1- bees are the best pollinators because they intentionally seek out the nectar of specific plant species, and gather it in large quantities to feed their young.  And because their bodies are so hairy, more pollen sticks to them.  Other pollinators, like butterflies, birds, wasps, etc, are incidental pollen spreaders, flitting from flower to flower, carrying less of the dust on their smoother bodies.   #2-native bees are better at pollinating tomatoes, eggplant, pumpkins, watermelons, cranberries and blueberries.  In fact, a single native blueberry bee can pollinate enough plants to produce 6,000 blueberries! #3--Other pollinators, such as moths, beetles and butterflies, are better at pollinating in early spring and late fall, when bees are less active.

So, to all you "bee-phobes" ( you know who you are, Mom), don't kill that bee buzzing around your head!  People: I know we think we are the end all and be all, but not to the bees!  Unless we suddenly sprout pollen-filled anthers and stamens, they're not at all interested in us.  Sure we "trick" them by wearing bright, flower-mimicking colors, but bee-lieve me, they'd rather steer clear of us.  So don't swat them away, risking harming or killing them.  We need them.  And while you're at it, don't swat that fly (I know, they can be impossibly annoying), or crush a moth because it "creeps" you out.  Nature's creatures have their own, individual purpose on this Earth, just like we do.  It will benefit us all to remember that.

The Kindest Cut

A fellow garden enthusiast sent me this shot and the following story:  These two forsythia bushes used to be HUGE.  They were taller than the fence and each was at least six feet wide.  It looked horribly overgrown so I cut them down to nothing with the intention of pulling them out.  But then I had second thoughts.  I gave them some time, and look how perfect they are now?  Round and healthy.  So, don't just pull the overgrown bushes.  Give them a haircut...and create a masterpiece.

--Edward Scissorhands

I love his story, not only because I appreciate a good sense of humor  (I am a huge fan of that movie), and I love it when people share their gardening stories with me, but because he highlights a vital component of eco-friendly gardening: recycling rather than replacing plants.  No plant loves a makeover more than the forsythia.  And although it will behave itself with a bit of care (as you can see from the photo, above), it also loves to stretch its legs and go wild.  It's this versatility that makes it a wonderful choice, especially for those looking for a quick-growing, relatively inexpensive privacy hedge.  It grows roughly 10-12 feet high.

For anyone who needs a lot of hedging on a really tight budget, here's a handy thing to know about the humble forsythia: its branches drape gracefully to the ground, where the tips that touch the soil sprout new plants (AKA: suckers).  Pull these new plants out carefully and replant them wherever you need to put your hedge.  You'll have your yard encircled in forsythia in no time.  And since they're among the first plants to bloom in spring, they hasten in the warmer weather in puffy clouds of sun-kissed yellow, for a veritable spring fling!