Plant for the "trill" of it this Memorial Day

Every gardener delights in the Memorial Day weekend because it's the kickoff to summer, and who doesn't revel in an extra day off to play in the garden? For me, the weekend is always tempered by the solemn nature of the holiday. We are reminded that freedom isn't free, and we owe it to those who laid down their lives for our liberty to honor them. Unfurl your flags, folks! Nothing says "thank you" like the proud display of our stars and stripes.

Anyone familiar with my posts knows that I planted a red, white, and blue garden near my side door a few years back. Each year I switch it up a bit, incorporating new plants into the patriotic theme. When I step out onto my driveway it's the first garden I see, and it always makes me smile.  At one point I decided to try my hand at a growing a Trillium grandiflorum, AKA great white trillium. I chose this plant for two reasons. First, it's a native of the woodlands of northeastern North America, and it's important to preserve the nature of established species indigenous to our area. Second, it's a magnificent plant of jurassic proportions which I have placed in the center of the flowerbed--a place of honor. Fitting for this space, right?

Trilliums are not easy to grow. They can be tricky to transplant, and they take years to flower. The one in my front yard, below, is on year three now, and I've yet to see it bloom. I'm not discouraged. Gardeners are nothing if not patient. I appreciate the plant for what it is, and wait serenely for whatever is to come. The plant will take anywhere between 3 to 10 years to flower.

Don't feel you have the time to wait? Study the oversized leaves, growing in a whorl around the gargantuan stem. It's worth it to have this beauty in the garden for its proportion and foliage alone. It doesn't scream "look at me" with a riot of color or overpowering spread. It stands tall and stately, proclaiming its status by simply being. In short, it's a sight to see.

I have it paired with plants that don't try to compete for attention, but complement the monumental marvel. Pulmonaria (lungwort) and ferns behind it, ajuga, and the annual begonia in front, and variegated bergenia (which gets a blue flower) and carex (sedge) to its side. All these plants prefer the shelter of the rhododendron, which shields them from the harsh rays of afternoon sun.

In the second shot below, I tried to capture the growing habit of this cool colossus. Note the new, striped leaf just unfurling at one stem. When this plant eventually blooms--offering three massive bracts of creamy white, the size of a dinner plate--it will be to much fanfare! I plan to dedicate an entire post to it, so stay tuned....

Creating a monochromatic garden

When first learning how to plan a flowerbed, I think the desire is often to wow the senses with color. People want a plethora of rich hues all around the yard, forgetting other factors that make for really interesting plant compositions: texture, foliage, height and growth habit.

We've all seen magnificent landscapes with multiple colors, which makes us long for similar plantings in our own outdoor spaces. What most of us don't initially pick up on is the fact that in order for color to be perceived properly, all those other factors have to be in place.

Back in school, a professor once made each student plan an entire garden space using only two colors--and they had to be hues that we thought would work poorly together.  I went with pink and orange, which, surprisingly, looked fabulous. One woman chose yellow and black, and, I gotta tell you, they paired brilliantly. My orange tiger lilies and pink stargazer lilies gave way to orange butterfly weed and soft pink roses in the front yard. This has become one of my favorite color combinations. The student who opted for the yellow/black combo edged her property with black mondo grass and filled in flower beds with yellow daisies, lilies, leopard's bane, coreopsis (tickseed) and buttercups. Week after week, her landscape was a study in successful color coordination.

As the years go by, I find myself preferring monochromatic flowerbeds. Take the one pictured above: Blossoms are all, basically, one color--with a range in tone: from soft-as-a-blush pink tulips and dogwood buds to magenta and deep crimson (in background) azalea. What keeps the composition from being boring are the other elements. Varying tones of green in foliage plants (from light green pachysandra and lysimachia to mid-range hosta, gray-green artemisia, to left, and the deep green of boxwood and privet hedge in far background). The variety in texture and growth habit also adds interest. The mounding habit of the hosta echoes the same bouquet shape of the dogwood, providing a unity of form. When shot through with little surprise, like the bright pachysandra, rounded boxwood and azalea forms, and spiky artemisia, the effect is natural and unstudied.

Height plays a role in the presentation as well. Groundcovers and smaller plants line the perimeter of the area, while medium-sized bushes fill in the middle of the flowerbed, and the dogwood tree in the center provides the vertical space needed to assume a basic pyramid shape. Two planters (with mini cypress) beyond the bed--although purposely not matching--offer balance, and the privet hedge running along the entire length of the area in back defines the space.

The elements in this landscape complement each other rather than competing for attention. The idea is to make the eye move easily from one component to the next, enjoying the end result without even realizing what it is, exactly, that makes you feel good in the space.

Skeeter beater

I live in a neighborhood of hardworking, friendly people. I can't say that it's like the one I grew up in. Back then, people from all walks of life beat a path to the annual Memorial Day Picnic thrown by my next-door neighbors. While I feel nostalgic for those days, and the easy comradery of both the adults and kids back then, I understand we live in a different era. People are caught up in busy jobs, and spend the bulk of their socializing on local fields watching their kids play sports.

I don't throw an annual picnic, but I make an attempt to get to know the folks who live around me. I wave at everyone when I'm walking my dogs, and have, subsequently, gotten to know most of the people who live on my street. I met the police officer down the road who is training a German shepherd for the canine unit, I admired the tree peonies of the across-the-street neighbor, welcomed my new neighbors who just moved in next-door, and thanked the fellow behind me who offered to run my tree branches through his mulcher.

It makes me proud to say we look out for each other in this neighborhood. With that happy thought in my mind, I realized the best way I could be a good neighbor was to share some knowledge I've acquired from years spent in my garden. During this time of year, pest control is vital, so I've made the effort to educate folks in order to reduce the mosquito population in my area. This information will help everyone, no matter where you live:

Standing water is a safety risk. From a stagnant pond to a tiny puddle, water that isn't flowing is bound to be breeding mosquito larvae. As we all know from paying attention to numerous news stories, mosquitos carry deadly viruses, like West Nile, and the new-to-our area Zika--a particularly scary strain for pregnant women (due to the link with birth defects) and the immune-compromised. My neighborhood is in transition, with many new families moving in. There are a number of newborns and pregnant ladies in the area, so this is a particular concern of mine. Fortunately, it's a quick and simple fix to get rid of the pests without harming people, pets or wildlife.

First of all, keep all fountains and ponds flowing. Make sure those pumps are cycling water through the day. I turn mine off at night, but start it right back up when daylight hits. Moving water is hard for pests to settle in. Other eco-friendly tips: dump a few minnows in your pond. Minnows are natural predators to the larvae that becomes hazardous insects. If your pond is less than three feet deep, minnows need to be scooped out and kept in a basement during the winter so they don't freeze. If that seems like too much work, encourage frogs to populate your pond. As we all know, adult frogs eat insects, but did you know that tadpoles eat larvae?

If you can't coax the horny ones to your yard, you can opt for mosquito dunks: small, compressed discs containing the naturally occurring bacteria bacillus thuringiensis israelensis  (AKA bti), which naturally inhibits mosquito populations by poisoning them. I know it sounds toxic, and it is--to mosquitos. Yet this treatment, in use since the 1920's, is actually eco-friendly. Here's how it works:

Bti, a naturally occurring bacteria, is harvested from soil and packed into the briquettes which float on water surfaces, and are eaten by mosquito larvae (which ever-so-conveniently hatch from eggs also deposited on top of the water). The toxic crystals that the larvae ingest explode only the cells of mosquito and black fly stomachs, forcing them to stop eating and starve to death. It's as simple as that.

What isn't so easy is ensuring that the dunks (or smaller pellets for tinier spaces) are in all your landscape's nooks and crannies. You really have to scout out areas that allow water to gather: gutters, old pails, flowerpots, wagons and wheelbarrows--even poorly draining areas and dips in your lawn. Larvae can survive in just a teaspoon of water!

Time is also a factor. These dangerous insects are breeding and hatching now, so there truly is no time to lose. Since no other species are harmed by the dunks--including wildlife like birds and tadpoles, pets and people--there's no reason not to protect your friends, family and neighbors right now. I've spread these potentially lifesaving discs around my yard--just in time to consider reinstating that time-honored tradition of my childhood: the neighborhood Memorial Day Picnic. 

What to plant now

We're heading into the second week of May, prime planting season! If you're like me, you step out into the warmish weather, noting the balmy breeze nudging the buds on nearby tree branches, and feel a heady sensation of renewal and endless landscape possibilities. Others may look around sparse spaces with a rising sense of panic, wondering what to plant in the yards of barren soil spread before them. Whether you view the Spring season with anticipation or dread, it's comforting to know there are literally hundreds of plants ready, willing and able to adapt to your outdoor spaces.

Where to start? By asking the experts, of course. It's always about this time of year that I put a call in to my favorite local wholesaler to ask him what's growing really well this year. This week's telephone conversation yielded the following: pulmonaria (AKA lungwort) is strutting its stuff in the shady spaces of his garden. Its deep green leaves, speckled with white polka dots, makes a perfect foil to the deep purple and magenta flowers. The hosta have popped as well, and reside next to the oakleaf hydrangea, happily taking cover under sprouting tree leaves.

Of course tulips, daffodils and crocus are winding down, as are the snowball white blooms on the viburnum, but lilacs are on the upswing just now, along with some varieties of magnolia and dogwood. Lavender is popping up, and The redbud tree isn't far behind.

For sunny spots, catmint, yarrow, hibiscus and hydrangea (paniculata--the white flowers, not the macrophylla, the blue- or pink-blossomed variety that prefers shade) are all sending out leafy shoots, like arms laden in heavy green sleeves reaching toward the sun. It will be a while before their blooms pop, but you can plant them now. Also making a great show of things are, daylily leaves, daisy greenery,  the hopeful red shoots of peony, bachelor button (an early bloomer, just a few weeks away), and garden anchors like artemesia, heuchera (coral bells), carex (sedge), allium (ornamental onion), alchemilla mollis (lady's mantle) and grasses and ferns of all varieties. Get them all going now since there's very little chance of a cold snap snuffing their effort to grow and flourish.

For garden shaping, line the perimeter of flowerbeds with evergreens now. Boxwood, yew, and arborvitae (to name just a few) provide the canvas for the splash of festive bloomers all around them. If you don't know where to plant them, check out magazines (I like Veranda) and the web for design ideas. Drive around your neighborhood and look at other people's landscapes. Don't let your pride keep you from going with a garden design that looks similar to a neighbor's: if certain plantings look great in other beds around the region, chances are they'll look fabulous in your spaces too. Remember, imitation is the highest form of flattery. And the planting process will spark your own imagination and creativity, helping you plant a garden that is all your own.

Tear down the wall...and rebuild it

A rare jewel in the crown of life is being surprised, right? It's especially nice when that surprise exceeds expectations.

Let me elaborate. I've lived in my house for twenty years, so I figured I knew just about everything there was to know about the place. The good: its turn-of-the-century charm and generations-old plantings (I like to think someone's loving great-grandmother christened the place with the rose bushes on the property's perimeter). The bad: the constant upkeep and idiosyncrasies, like the poor drainage in the back and side yards, no matter how many pipes we maze around the house, and the way water finds its way around our chimney regardless of the extensive mortar pointing my husband has layered around the bricks. The ugly: unfortunate renovations by previous owners, like the linoleum kitchen floor and house addition that neglected to incorporate a front door (these have long since been corrected, thank goodness!). Through it all, I've developed a bond with my property--a decades-long friendship, you could say.

Last week, my "old friend" surprised me with a fantastic, unexpected gift: a rock wall that I never knew existed. While digging along the back corner of the property, trying to level the ground around the forsythia hedge in order to incorporate a nice, tidy place to stack wood, I hit a large rock. Then I hit another one. And another. The rocks were a nice, flat, rectangular shape. By rock number six I was pretty sure I'd struck a gardener's version of buried treasure. By day's end I had dozens of beautiful, stackable rocks. They were not all easy to extract from the earth, since they were about 8 inches down, and many tree roots had actually grown on top of them, but the effort was well worth it.

Time to build myself a new wall. But how to stack up the stones so they'll last through the next few generations? Time to go "old school" via a bit of high-tech help: YouTube. After viewing half a dozen how-to videos, I got the gist of it, and tried it out myself. Here's how:

I separated the stones into four groups: large base stones, medium-sized flat and chunky stones, small rocks, and mid-sized flat, smooth-sided stones to use on top of the wall as capstones. I then set to work, laying out all the boulders and other large stones along the perimeter of my driveway. Next, I created a corner by "weaving" flat stones on top of each other (one stone with the pointed end facing east and the next stone's point facing north, then repeating the process).

Next came the flat and chunky stones, moving each piece around over and over again until it "locked" into place (making sure nothing wobbled). It reminded me of fitting puzzle pieces together. I was careful to ensure there was no shifting of stones as I placed them. If I couldn't get a rock to lock in, I temporarily discarded it. This part took a long time to complete. When I finally finished this step, I took handfuls of the small rocks and pebbles and stuffed the into cracks between the larger rocks. The stones acted as a sort of an organic glue, keeping uneven edges supported.

Finally, I finished the wall with the slim, smooth-edged capstones. Then I stood back and admired the fruit of my effort, and smiled, with the oft-quoted line from Frost's most famous poem running through my mind: Something there is that doesn't love a wall....

Pet peeves

There's a certain sound that signals Spring in my yard...well, actually, it's a buzz. The pieris off the front porch (also known as Japanese Andromeda), bursts forth with it's tiny bell-shaped blossoms (which look strikingly like lily-of-the-valley flowers), and the bees head to it in droves. I'm not kidding, so many bumbles stumble around it's branches, drunk on sweet nectar, it makes the whole tree hum. I call that pieris The Bee Tree.

Yesterday morning I walked the front yard accompanied by the strains of that continuous hum, and I too, made a bee line (couldn't resist the bad pun) to The Bee Tree to take a few shots. The photo above is a close-up of one industrious nectar-gatherer, though all the bees let me get within a few inches of them. When the pieres is in bud, little else matters to my tiny striped friends. We enjoy nature's bounty together.

That got me thinking about the other inhabitants of my yard. I've often joked that our little plot of land is like a wild kingdom, with all manner of untamed insect, amphibian, reptile and mammal eventually making its way inside my house, but the truth is, I enjoy them immensely when they are just where they need to be: outside my four walls.

I've always had an abiding affection and respect for animals, but I've seldom longed to own them--unlike my daughter who at one point or another has seriously checked into getting herself an assortment of critters that would rival Noah's ark. Among the candidates for her personal pet search: pot-bellied pig, lop-eared rabbit, hedgehog, de-skunked skunk, baby goat, angora cat, just about every type of dog breed, chicken (two of them, she would name Chick and Dick), hamster, exotic bird, guinea pig...you get the picture. And her quest DID land a few furry inhabitants within my home. I can now claim, or have claimed in the past, two miniature hamsters, three shih tzu pups, a lhaso apso, two domestic shorthair cats and that too-cute-to-pass-up lop-eared rabbit (okay, so I am not totally immune to the lure of pet ownership).

Here's the thing: I think that we humans just can't help our need to control things. Of course this can be a good thing. We guide our careers, pay our bills and keep our homes tidy, ensuring our world is not ruled by chaos. But we just can't help ourselves, can we? We have to be the masters of our--and everyone else's--fate. We take on pets because we truly do believe that we can do a better job than Mother Nature. And often we discover, too late, that we can't. That's why pythons are set into the U.S. woods to fend for themselves in unfamiliar territory, turtles and fish from other areas of the world are dropped into local waterways to decimate the natives, and shelters are full of unwanted animals of every size, shape, color and species. Conversely, animals that offer no value as pets are promptly sent away, sometimes violently. I've heard tales of squirrels, raccoons and bears being shot at with BB guns--and worse.

There's a better way. A simpler way. Share the world with animals rather than trying to own them. You wouldn't try to tame a flock of birds landing on your back deck, or a skunk snooping around your back yard stream. But you shouldn't try to chase them off, either. If we all switched up our thinking a bit, and realized that the natural world all around us is good enough to share its magnificence, what an honor for us to accept the gift.

We can do our part. Buy a few bird feeders and fill them up each week; create a pond for local creatures of all kinds to drink from and frolic in (and don't clear away all the algae since fish and tadpoles nourish themselves with it); adopt a stray cat or dog at the local shelter if you need a closer tie to the animal world than wildlife offers. And for goodness sake, don't chase away the opossum who just wants to get a drink from the puddle in your driveway, or the squirrel gathering nuts for the winter. Keep your trash cans secured in a covered shed or your garage to discourage the influx of raccoons or bears; don't squash the errant bee who happens to fly by. He's got important pollination activities on tap, and we reap the benefits of his hard work. Most of all, realize that the most important thing to control is your own frame of mind. Start small. Adopt a "citizen of the world" approach to pet ownership, sitting back (with your shelter pet by your side!) and enjoying nature's "pets". They all belong to you, and you belong to them.

As for my destiny, I hope one day to be through with cleaning cages and litter boxes, waking up at the crack of dawn to walk the dogs, and being able to book a vacation without worrying about who's going to watch all the pets--but I'll always fill the birdfeeder.

Gift yourself a garden

I'm not one for sayings. My husband will tell you it's because I always get them wrong. I do like this one: Never leave a stone unturned. It's a revved-up version of Where there's a will there's a way, but with a decidedly horticultural twist. After all, we gardeners have to turn over a lot of stones to get to the deep, rich soil underneath.

A friend recently asked my advice about planting a flowerbed along a barren side of her house. I asked her all the pertinent questions, like: How much sun does the spot get? What's the soil and drainage situation in that area? What amount of maintenance are you willing to do? Do you get a lot of critters in your yard? What colors do you like? After patiently answering all those questions and more, and then waiting for me to ponder for a bit, I made a number of plant suggestions. My friend politely thanked me...then decided to do nothing.

Okay, you could say it's my ego that was hurt. I went back to school for horticultural design. I came up with solutions to her multifaceted yard situation. Had it been another person--one who wasn't one of my dearest friends for more years than I'd like to recall--you may be correct. Fortunately our deeply forged friendship transcends such pettiness. But her reaction to my suggestions did make me curious about her life.

Divorcing a few years back and launching herself into a full-time job has been exciting for her--and exhausting. Her kids are amazing--and challenging at times, like all kids can be. She claimed to have neither the desire, spare cash nor know-how to transcend her outdoor spaces. She explained that she plans on selling her house in a few years, so why bother making it really nice now?

On a practical level her words make sense, but on a spiritual level, I find my soul clenching. To me, that's like saying, Why bother living life to the fullest since I'm only going to die eventually? Perhaps that was a bit dramatic, but look, we all know that we can't control what our boss will demand, what our kids will try to get away with or what the weather will be like on any particular day of our lives, but we can control what we get to surround ourselves with in our own personal spaces. That's where my favorite saying comes in: Never leave a stone unturned. If you want a nice yard, then demand it of yourself! Do what you must to surround yourself in beauty. Got a tight budget? Check out the net for plant exchanges and wholesalers. I found my favorite local grower on Craigslist, and he gives me a discount when I buy in bulk. Need some "lawn jewelry?" I snagged the wrought iron birdbath in the photo, above, for $14.98 at Pier 1. This retailer, like most others, puts just about every item in their store on sale at some point. Create a watch list of your most-desired items and swing by on a weekly or monthly basis to keep tabs on the items.

As we all know, this life isn't a dress rehearsal; it's the real deal and we're on center stage. Remember this: We get to write the storyline. And home is where our tale begins. I am writing an epic, flipping every pebble, stone and boulder in my way. Planting catmint, yarrow, roses and spruce trees with abandon. Decorating my yard with the same gusto that I showered on my living room walls, dining and sleeping spaces.

All the great thinkers through the ages have offered some form of the same advice: live in the present. Eat drink and be merry for tomorrow we die, right? Maudlin as that seems, the advice is sound. From the sages of the ancient past to modern-day thinkers like Eckhart Tolle and the late Joseph Murphy, the message is the same: Don't put off doing the things that you want to do now because you won't be rewarded in the future. The thrill of today's activity IS the reward. Think on that while you stroll through your garden today. And enjoy every minute of it.