Beyond the Brambles

Wordless Wednesday: Pick Your Poison

2011-08-17T23:11:00.001-04:00

Plant disease, poison ivy and hungry spider.

A Few Words On Plant Fever and How I Ended Up With a Tree of My Own

2011-08-15T16:44:00.000-04:00

One of the main reasons there are too few hours in a day is that there are so many plants to see! It doesn't help that I now have hundreds more plants under my care, having recently taken on a new job at a nursery. I love my new occupation, but I've dearly missed blogging about plant life! The season is marching on in my patio garden, at the farm, in my community plots and in the local greenspaces. If the zoom lens on my camera was strong enough, I'd show you the renegade leaves at the top of the maple tree across the street that are already turning red. As strange as they are, they send me a strong message, and I know I have a lot of catching up to do.

So I pass time at the nursery and the plants do their part in keeping me sane. But once in a while, it's the plants that also drive me to insanity. I'm talking specifically about my recent acquisition of an Asian pear tree here. There were no outside forces at work that resulted in it now residing on my patio- only me and the tree. In the moment before I brought it home, I was entranced by it. (My husband, and possibly my neighbours, who I dragged into the garden to admire the tree the moment I got it home, and maybe even some folks out there on Facebook, may argue that the trance lasted all night.) Am I crazy, or did this tree speak to me?

At six feet tall, the tree towers five inches above me. (Yeah, I measured it, but only after I got it home and set about writing this post.) Here are a few more relative measurements:

distance between the nursery and my garden= 15 miles/ 24 km

cargo volume in my car= 65.3 cu ft/ 1.85 cu metres

total area of my garden= 150 square feet/ 15 metres square

The numbers were an afterthought, and I conjure them up for your benefit, only to show you that it was mathematically possible for me to have this tree. When the tree and I were talking, or rather, when that dialogue occurred in my head, it was strictly horticultural. Maybe a bit culinary too. And, yes, I recall a small dose of vanity maybe, just a milligram. During that dialogue, here's what I found out. . .

Asian pear trees (Pyrus pyrifolia) have existed for an estimated 3000 years in their native Asian regions, working their way into sayings and parables, and eventually becoming a well-known symbol of spring. They were introduced to North America in the 1800's by Chinese agricultural immigrants who landed in California.

They are less common than European pears here mainly due to their occasional vulnerability to fire blight, the high water content of their fruit (which makes them less versatile in cooking), and their limited winter-hardiness. I also found out that fruit trees can be grown in containers, but it may produce slightly less yield and require steadfast attention to watering. It's best to cross-pollinate them with another pear tree.

Owing to my advanced stage of plant fever, I found it easy to form an appropriate retort to all this information. The fact is, diseases like fire blight only heighten my interest in IPM (Integrated Pest Management), and my keenness to practice it. I get a similar kick out of growing plants on the edge of their hardiness zone. (Yes, I'm still a fan of native plants and will extoll their virtues at the drop of a hat, but can't I have a little fun too?)

Growing plants in containers is also my bag. Where else am I supposed to grow them now that I've filled all the space I have in the ground? My plant fever also tells me that urban agriculture trends are leaning, somewhat like a young fruit tree, toward growing just about anything in containers.

As for the aptness of certain fruits in my kitchen, I prefer to leave that up to the taste buds. Asian pears aren't usually used in pies, but they are touted for adding flavor to savory things like beef marinades. Wikipedia says that they "tend to be served to guests or given as gifts, or eaten together in a family setting." Now who couldn't approve of that?

The distance from the nursery to my house, the cargo space in my car, and the few feet of space I have left in my garden worked in my favour the day I took my first tree home. I found a sizeable, sturdy glazed pot and furnished it with compost. As I stare at the fruit through my rainy window today, I can imagine the branches maybe eventually reaching the upstairs balcony so that the neighbours could reach out and pick a pear, or peeking up over the fence to evoke some curiosity from passers-by.

It's true, pollinating the pears is most successful when there is more than one tree. But to me, seeking out pollen from another fruit tree owner, just as spring is coming around the corner each year, seems like a pleasant quandry. After all, what is gardening about, if not sharing germs of plant fever that may one day bear fruit in your own garden?

This sculpture in my garden reminds me that anything is possible!

Festival of Trees #62: Lessons I Learned From a Tree

2011-08-02T12:11:00.001-04:00

It's easy to fall in love with a tree in the springtime- they are loud with the first colors of the year- pale pink, dusty yellow, chartreuse. By July, most trees are cloaked in deep green and perhaps wallow in the shade of other trees in the forests and glades, or blend harmoniously into the hum of summer meadows and thickets. In creating the Festival of the Trees edition this month I learned that even from these places, they still have the capacity to shock us, woo us, and draw us close. I learned that it's hard not to refer to trees as agents of actions and feelings in their own right, and I think many who have been wooed to tell a tree story this month would agree with me. Perhaps it's because when we are up close to the trees, we have an immense opportunity to learn from them, if we care to listen.

People who have learned lessons from trees in the past may seek new opportunities from new trees. Fran at Mumbling Mountain went on a tree-finding mission back in April and would like to share it with us. Lucy at Loose and Leafy felt it necessary to approach what appeared to be a large shadowy blob and find out and name exactly what tree was in there. Many others like them across the continent are hunting for trees- extraordinarily large ones. Once the tree hunters find a special tree, they measure it and nominate it for The Big Tree Project at American Forests, and if the tree scores enough points on their rating system, it becomes a Champion Tree. A register of all the Champion Trees to date are available for perusal in the online registry.

The Big Tree Project is a rare opportunity for us to make trees champions for a change. Often it is the trees that make us champions. Every year in late July new international trees climbing champions are chosen by the International Society of Arborculture. Contestants compete in a series of tree-climbing races (see live video of the races) that test for speed, strength and agility. This year's championships were held in Australia and the winners are Scott Forrest of New Zealand and Chrissy Spence of New Zealand.

This month NPR featured a different set of trees tied to Olympic champions- the four oak trees that were given to Jessee Owens, who won four gold medals for running at the 1936 Olympics in Germany. They have been featured in a book by Jim Constandt and a movie called Jesse Owens returns to Berlin.

One can't talk about climbing trees and picking champions without being reminded of childhood. Over at Rock Paper Lizard, there is an amusing recollection of childhood tree climbing at "The Crescent", a well-known patch of trees in Vancouver's Shaunessy area. It makes me think of the summer camp kids at the farm I have been teaching off and on this month, who have chosen the best apple tree for climbing and will grudgingly wait their turn to monkey around in it all through snack time.

What is it about climbing trees that brings out the inner child in us? It brings out this and more, as artist and climber Todd Smith found out. He climbed a tree every day for one year to study this perspective. What he found he recorded in a daily journal where he wrote and collected tree samples. He created a blog, Daily Climb, to share the highlights, and this month, after recounting those highlights day by day, his story came to a close.

There are other ways to learn lessons from trees than to seek them out like the tree hunters, the tree champions, the children and Todd Smith. Sometimes it almost seems as though the trees seek us out. This message in clear in both Sheila's account of a young sycamore tree growing in the middle of Hope Creek on her blog Green Place, and in the Virtual Notes of Dorothy Lang about a tree on her bike route. In both instances, the author glimpsed the tree from afar and because they meditated on it for a moment, were rewarded with simple, powerful lessons. Diana J. Wynne of a place in the world blog writes about this too, as a character in her story Road Trip is drawn to the trees.

Researchers at Harvard's Arnold Arboretum are wracked with curiosity about trees at a microscopic level. I had the chance to tour their lab about a month ago, and was fascinated that even at microscopic range, the trees are calling to us! Beautiful images and strange behavior abound even inside the cells of trees. Around the same time of my visit, the lab came out with a big discovery about how pollen grains of a tree may actually compete in order to fertilize the eggs cell at the base of every tree flower.

There is so much to learn from every tree that scientists at Oxford University are taking stock of large numbers of trees for just this purpose. Now we move from extreme micro of the Arnold Arboretum labs to extreme macro in Oxford's project. It was released this month that they have taken on the task of extensively mapping each one of the world's religious forests. These forests are home to some of the most rare and longest-lived organisms on the planet. And I won't mention long-lived organisms without giving a nod to the "Dinosaur Forest" post at Rebecca in the Woods. This one speaks to me on all my nerd-wavelengths!

Old trees are something to be cherished in Texas, too, as an entire team of firefighters have dedicated themselves to keeping a local icon from becoming thirsty this summer. At Fidalgo Island Crossings, Dave ponders just how much one particularly old tree has given to people over its lifespan.

In contrast to those stories, at Mole blog, a poem marks both the youth and the end of a tree's life through a sudden crack. Practice Makes Perfect blog highlights the striking beauty of a fractured tree as well. In Arlene Wanetick's story posted at Art 4Play blog, a broken tree is a potent catalyst for learning, as thousands of city-dwellers, children, and camp counselors take pause to adjust their daily lives around the loss of electricity.

I thought I would save a few sweet rewards for the end of Edition #62. At European Trees, we are treated to a geographic tour of Western Europe's most popular specimens for wine and spirit-making. Seattle's Chinese Garden offers us a beautiful fantasy of a peach tree forest in a popular Chinese parable. Looking at the ripe, round fruit, I am reminded of the young Asian pear tree I purchased two days ago. Although not the first tree I have cared for and tended, it is the first tree I have ever had. I am tempted to say it is the first tree I have ever owned, but then, how could something so full of life belong only to me and not be enjoyed by everyone? After I loaded it out of my car at home, I immediately grabbed my neighbours to show them the tree and share some fruit. I'll be sharing the tree with you too, in a later post. . .

I'd like to thank all of the contributors to Edition #62 for your submissions which made this month's Festival of the Trees an awesome one! I also want to thank the Festival coordinators, especially Dave Bonta and Jade Leone Blackwater, for the opportunity and for their suggestions. You'll find next month's edition at Slugyard blog.

Berry-Go-Round Carnival: July 2011

2011-08-01T03:09:00.001-04:00

It's about that time of season. I've got slow-poke blossoms, ever-expanding shoots, swelling fruits and plants gone to seed in my garden. As if that wasn't fixating enough, many of my favourite bloggers from around the globe are experiencing the same phenomena simultaneously. If only there was some way to meld all of these amazing plant happenings in to one post. . .wait. . .isn't it my turn to host Berry-Go-Round, the blog carnival with the most biomass in the blogosphere? Yes indeed.

First I'd like to mention that although it may seem to most that we are suspended in the thick soupy air of midseason, there are still fresh new beginnings in certain garden corners. Julia at Polka Dot Galoshes illustrates a few of these.

After spying anxiously on buds with Julia, I might direct your attention to some rather rewarding blooms. Annelie at Nature as I See It shared the product of her winter seed scattering when she discovered it early this month. At Growing With Plants, Matt Mattus exposed some of the mystery behind Peruvian daffodils a few days ago.

If the blooms can't be found under our own care, we can trust Mother Nature to leave us wordless this month, as it did for Karin of Southern Meadows who witnessed the magic of Queen Anne's Lace from behind her camera. A few bloggers (Janet of Planticru Notes and Gayla Trail from You Grow Girl) have stopped to marvel at thistle in particular, a notorious ward of Mother Nature.

Images of summer flowers may be strange and new like Gayla's or age-old like Patricia Tyron's ceaseless stream of fascinating floral art at Picturing Plants. Every selection of botanical art at Patricia's blog has made tremors in history, yet some of the images resonate especially strong in my soul. This month, I need only gaze on the coltzfoot, cosmos, or columbine there to connect with kindred spirits of talented artists who were also fascinated with these midsummer blooms hundreds of years ago. On the other hand, the likeness of flowers to our favourite historical works of art are sometimes too tempting not to share, as Stacy at Microcosm has skillfully done.

Phil Gates penetrates plants at a level so far Beyond the Human Eye that even something so familiar as a banana leaf can be lifted to fine art standards.

I can rely on Gary Bandzmer of bandzmer.com to pair images of intimate moments in the lives of plants, such as a roses in ruins, with timely poetry.

Alan at It's Not Work It's Gardening looks beyond prolific flowers this month to highlight some of his favourite foiliage. This raises the question, Why just stop and stare at our most beloved plants this month- why not ask what those plants have done for us lately?

At Restoring the Landscape With Native Plants, it's a given that we benefit from pollinators, who are in turn happy guests of the most bewitching wildflowers of July .

Phil gates removes the extra link between flowers and ourselves by showing us on Cabinet of Curiosties how we can dye our fibers with the brightest of the bunch.

The 3 Foragers know how to transform any plant part into delicious meals, and their posts this month on milkweed and sumac meringue are no exception.

Over at Plant Postings, smoothie recipies follow helpful tips on tracking down the most succulent July berries, and more harvest inquiries are answered on A Way to Garden when Margaret Roach tackles the perfect pickling plant.

If the quest for beauty, nourishment and sustenance from this month's botanical specimens has led you far into the wilderness, Andrea Bellamy of Heavy Petal can bring you back to civilization with an homage to a most familiar plant ally in a field of wheat.

This, the beginning of cultivated plants as we know it, seems an appropriate place to halt until next month's edition of Berry-Go-Round carnival. Be sure to tune in again, even put in your own two cents, at Osage and Orange next month.

Every Day is a New Day in the Daylily Garden

2011-07-20T22:28:00.000-04:00

Barabara Provost has spent many a summer day cupping the faces of daylilies for visitors to see at Elm Bank’s New England DaylilySociety (NEDS) garden. Since the garden’s inception in 2003, she’s been welcoming passers-by to walk the garden’s paths and take a closer look. When I spoke to her at the Society Row plant sale earlier this year, she called after me “Every day is a new day in the daylily garden!”

The garden’s first days were passed by enthusiasts from across New England, amending the soil (it was formerly the site of three swimming pools) and placing donations of their most beloved cultivars in the freshly dug beds. “NEDS members from all over New England, from the mountain tops of Vermont to the Cape all donated plants that would survive in zone 5b.” she recalls.

She agrees with me that fans of the genus Hemerocallis are a dedicated bunch, but the reason they fall head over heels for the plants is simpler than one might think. “The hook is durability, the fact that you can plant a daylily and for forty years not take care of it, and then fertilize it and they’re up and growing again! And after forty years of neglect, they were the only things living in my garden.”

Even though she had been growing daylilies since 1965, the first time Barbara Provost realized how much she loved the genus wasn’t until much later. She remembers the portraits of daylilies taken by a local photographer, Jon Pike, that she saw at Boston’s flower and garden show. “I said- where are these flowers?? I didn’t know that there were people growing so many sizes, colours and shapes!”

Now Barbara grows a staggering 1200 cultivars in her own garden and travails at hybridizing more every season. “I am always looking for that sport, that wonderful new creation. Every year I do crosses that produce about 350 seeds I can grow and test, and that’s all I have room in my dining room to grow!” Her plants include both new and old varieties. “I have a lot of daylilies from my great-grandmother, my mother, my grandmother. . . and I pass them on to my girls.”

That’s part of the reason both Barbara’s garden and the one she tends at Elm Bank are official historic gardens. Some of the oldest varieties, like tall, orange Hemerocallis fulva have been in this region since the 1700’s. Others are as old as the 16^th century. Visitors to the garden at Elm Bank can find another nod to the past in the extensive collection of Elizabeth Nesmith’s hybrids. Known as the “Grand Dame of the North” throughout the Daylily Society, Nesmith was the first hybridizer to create a pink cultivar from an orange daylily. Her hybridizing work in the 1930’s won her the coveted Stout Silver Medal Award, which is given every year to the most outstanding new hybrid. Hers and cultivars of other prolific New England hybridizers are showcased in the garden at Elm Bank.

NEDS members vote on new cultivars to add to the scrapbook-like garden after they are introduced at the Daylily Exhibition each year. This year’s exhibition is coming up this weekend on July 23^rdat Tower Hill Botanic Garden. “We do have judges coming for the show, and they’re going to stop by Elm Bank, and they’re coming to my garden also.” Provost says some judges will vote on the appearance of the gardens and some will vote on the cultivars themselves.

To the untrained eye, daylilies are nothing more than the orange (fulva) and gold (Stella d’oro) flowers that thrive along roadsides (often referred to as “ditch lilies”) or proliferate in commercial plantings at gas stations and shopping malls. Provost explains that the reason these varieties are so common is because they’re the oldest around- tried and true- but this doesn’t mean they’re a fair representation for the whole genus. Orange and gold are only the first colours of the season to bloom in the daylily garden. On my visit to the NEDS garden at Elm Bank, pink-tinged buds and a myriad of tidy labels that bore names like “Pardon Me”, Arterial Blood”, Twilight Tryst”, and “Cinderella’s Dark Side” hinted at much more variety to come.

Next will come the pinks, reds, purples and more. The blooms themselves can be two-toned, bi-coloured, haloed or eyed. They can also be singles, doubles, spiders, recurved, ruffles, bagels, or unusual forms, depending on the shape. Size, height, and blooming habits (ex. Nocturnal, reblooming) also vary widely.

Hybridizers take all of these traits into account, along with how many blooms per scape (there can be as few as ten and as many as forty buds on a scape, or stem) and how many chromosomes the cultivar possesses. Some of the newest sports that hybridizers lust after have fractal-like patterns on the inside of the bloom, “diamond dusting” that sparkles across the petals or metallic-coloured rims around the edges. “You won’t believe what’s coming down the pike!” Provost proclaims.

All it takes to bring out the best colour in the blooms is the correct pH level and an occasional sprinkling of 10-10-10 fertilizer. Pests to the plant are rare, though all 18 of them (listed on the Daylily Society’swebsite) can be treated effectively with Neem horticultural oil. Other maintenance to the daylily garden is minimal, especially once the shoots become tall enough to shade out weeds in spring. The garden attracts many different pollinators, as well as a few species of dragonfly that frequently rest on the flowers in hopes of catching a meal. Because they are attractive to pollinators and beneficial bugs alike, and because their foliage is tall and green throughout the season, daylilies make great companion plants.

Not only are they a steadfast addition to a mixed or perennial border- they have culinary uses too. When it comes to edible flowers, daylilies are above and beyond the usual blossoms. They have a sweetness unpaired by any other flower I’ve tried, and a lettuce-like texture. In China, where they have been eaten during times of drought and used as medicine for hundreds of years, they are often served deep-fried. The gold ones are sweetest and lend the best flavor for wine making.

Visitors to the daylily garden at Elm Bank can take in all these things, and they are also welcome to collect pollen samples from the flowers to try crossing daylilies themselves. If Barbara is in the garden, she is fond of giving impromptu lessons in how to pollinate the daylilies so that new seeds will grow. “Kids like it too. When they get to science class, or study about plants they can understand because they’ve seen it here in the garden. So I really enjoy doing that.”

Another way Barbara passes on her experience with these special flowers is by documenting the season with photographs. “I get up in the morning and I have my coffee and I run out with my camera and my tripod and try to get some really good shots really early in the morning.” Sometimes she’ll take a scape as cut flowers, “Cut flowers for breakfast and cut flowers for lunch, but at dinnertime they close right up- haha! You can’t have a dinner party. . .”

She claims that there is something blooming every day in the daylily garden, from the start of the season in mid-May until first frost. That’s around the time a cultivar called “Fat Lady Sings” comes into blossom. When it comes to witnessing whether this is true, for some reason I’d rather see for myself than take her word for it!

Barbara encourages New Englanders to attend the Daylilyexhibition which is open to the public this Saturday, and also to read her favourite daylily reference book, The New Daylily Handbook, and her favourite garden mystery series by local author Neil Saunders.

Joining the Carnival

2011-07-03T19:22:00.000-04:00

Road show travelers beckon visitors at the gate in HBO's Carnivale.

I'm becoming more avid than ever in reading about plants, attending horticulture happenings, launching garden experiments, communing with plant experts and asking plant questions. I'm going out of my way to capture plants on my camera, no matter if they're a narrow two inches between the sidewalk and the next pedestrian's shoe or if they're a wide 30ft down a rocky ledge. I used to be a plant enthusiast, now I'm a full-on plant freak! Cue the circus music.

But you know what? I'm not alone. In joining the blogosphere I've discovered leagues of us who would wake at dawn to keep up with the secret lives of plants, climb onto a roof top searching for signs of green life, or eat the most unlikely vegetation just to get to know it better. We are plant freaks, all of us! What's more, we have our own carnivals to prove it. This month I am hosting not one, but two plant-themed blog carnivals right here on Beyond the Brambles.

A blog carnival, much like a brick-and-mortar carnival, moves from venue to venue every month, featuring a collection of attractions. In this case, the attractions are links to fascinating, amusing web articles (including writing, photos, video and sound clips) and the venue is this blog. I'll be collecting submissions throughout July to review for this month's edition of Berry Go Round as well as next month's edition of Festival of the Trees.

COME ONE, COME ALL

If you want to witness these strange and exciting blog carnivals, I invite you to return on July 31st and August 1st for back-to-back carnival craziness!! If you have a plant freak streak in you and you operate a website, I urge you to read on. . .

Berry Go Round is a botany-themed blog carnival. I'm seeking close-up, intimate insights on the inner workings of plants for this one. To see more of what I mean, check out past editions of Berry Go Round. If you've recently had an epiphany about how grass grows, why a carrot needs elbow room, or where to find a bromeliad's babies, please share it with me! (Or any other true stories starring intriguing plants.) In turn, I may share it with hundreds more plantophiles in my carnival edition! This is a great way to gather a diverse group of readers and resources for your site.

Likewise is true at Festival of the Trees. As you may have guessed, it's all about the tree limbs, lives and lessons. Past editions all have their own themes, and this month my theme is "Lessons We Have Learned From Trees". After many hours of teaching children under green canopies, I know that the things we have to learn from trees are priceless and numberless. But they're not all scholastic. Ever been outsmarted at sports by a tree? Ever been roused to tears because of a tree? We live our lives close to them, often interacting with them so subtly that they suddenly surprise us. Sometimes they leave us with questions instead of facts. Often they leave us with incredible stories. I looove a good tree story, and I'm really looking forward to collecting them and sharing them. Everybody has at least one tree story, so give em here!

Even if you're not usually inclined to share stories or information about plants on your website, these carnivals aim at stitching a wide range of blogs and websites together with this common thread. Submissions for Berry Go Round can be entered here, and they are due July 25th. Festival of the Trees submissions can be entered to beyondthebrambles@gmail.com, due July 30th. I can't wait to read them!

Newport Flower Show: Delivering Extravagance

2011-06-28T16:31:00.001-04:00

Last Friday afternoon I found myself seated on a large bus, gawking at century-old mansions as The Beatles "Magical Mystery Tour" album blared. The bus moved at barely 5mph along a crowded seashore drive, eventually making a cumbersome left turn into a driveway marked "Rosecliff". I had arrived at the much anticipated Newport Flower Show.

With keen senses, I uttered something about blue gardens to my husband and made my way past the large European beeches dotting the front lawn. Some of the beeches, of which there are approximately 450 on Newport Mansions grounds, were decorated with lush hanging baskets and candles. The show gardens on the front lawn were still buzzing with designers adding finishing touches and issuing warnings about the fresh blue paint.

A handful of designers created blue show gardens as an homage to Newport's famous Blue Garden of the past, which much like these, was built at the mansion entrance as a showpiece for an extravagant party. Blue-hued fences, pottery and stone, along with true-blue flowers like hydrangea, delphinium, salvia, gernanium, monkshood, campanula, and lupins guided the eye all the way down to the mansion.

The first garden was flanked by a staged cafe and featured a lotus-shaped mosaic made of loose stone at the bottom of a pool. Following this was a dense garden full of interesting plants like the hosta on the left. Each element in this garden was part of a mirrored symmetry- even the pair of torch-wielding iron ladies. Another garden presented blue flower portraits among vertical wall plantings.

Each of these blue gardens was accompanied by a thematic table setting. Table settings were sprinkled throughout the show and seemed to get stranger and stranger as I wandered further inside, from succulent arrangements to celosia sushi to crockery resembling vegetable-people. . .

But I'm getting ahead of myself!

Entries for container plantings were nestled beside the front door of the building. I saw a few that fit my definition of casual elegance perfectly.

Some entries put a twist on "container gardening" itself- miniature gardens in a container! I especially liked the tiny potted tropicals in the greenhouse and the miniature bottle of red wine next to the lounge chair.

We flagrantly skipped entering at the front door, as I was a wee bit distracted by the arbour of antique roses around the side. What a fragrance! This eventually led us to the back terraces, where there were more inventive container plantings.

Past the jazz band and the vendors, large container plantings stood against the salt spray of the ocean.

I spied a few of the other lavish Newport Mansions from there, with gardens that stretched finger-like right into the high-water mark of the shore. This one in the distance reminded me to come back for another visit, as there are plenty of other mansions to see besides Rosecliff.

And just because you can't take me out without me finding some excuse to muddy up my nice shoes, I succumbed to buying these rubber ones on my way back through the vendors.

A few tents on the back lawn housed horticultural specimens for competitions. There were topiary herbs and boxwoods. This Euphorbia esculenta submitted in the "Grand Dames" category is a whopping thirty years old.

I had never laid eyes on a tree tomato (Cyphomandra crassicaulis) before this lovely specimen.

Exotic orchids loomed across half of one tent. I don't think I'll attempt to reproduce any of the Latin names here.

Vases of single cut flower specimens all screamed for attention (and votes) under the canopy of the mansion's back porch. Aside from dahlia, rose, yarrow and delphinium blooms, there were also branches from shrubs and trees and foliage plants on display.

Inside the great room of the mansion, there was a wall of old photographs which were all recreated in floral arrangements. A murky old photo of ten or twelve women in a line, all wearing long white tennis dresses and gripping a racket, caught my eye. The accompanying arrangement took on the task of simulating a racket made of leaves.

A large floral peacock nearby offered competition for this display. It's almost protocol for the setting, I should think. Unfortunately for showgoers wishing to capture this, all photography is prohibited inside the Newport Mansions. Whether it's because camera flashes bouncing off the many white marble surfaces may cause temporary blindness, because every cavernous fireplace houses remnants of family secrets, or because ghosts float along the heavily ornamented, sky high ceilings I do not know.

One of my favourite categories was the floral umbrellas! Against a backdrop of blue sky and clouds, designers used large leaves, colourful mosaics of dried flowers, and elegantly placed fresh blooms to sculpt parasols.

A flower-clad mannequin representing the hostess stood at the top of the central staircase. She looked upon a room full of dense, traditional arrangements of flowers and edibles of all kinds.

To gain some insight on how these astounding displays were constructed, I attended Kevin Ylvisaker's lecture. While he put together numerous large arrangements for the audience, he bubbled over with insider tips and stories from the floral trade. Questions were encouraged, and every member of the audience that spoke up went home with a fist-full of orchids or a beautiful hand-made lei of fresh flowers (there are white ones dangling in the picture below).

He began with abstract, vertical arrangements and moved into more traditional ones. Trends are moving away from triangular and spherical shapes for bouquets to more vertical, deconstructed ones.

Among the materials he recommended were loumi wire (for mechanics), oasis foam (which has seen some new developments lately), quick-dip solution (to condition the flowers), bindwire (instead of tape), floral adhesive, cable ties, coloured goat's wool (submerged in water), water pearls (for tinting the water in tye-dye patterns), and finishing spray. (I should mention that through all of this, my husband remained confounded but somewhat riveted. That speaks volumes for Kevin's ability to captivate us all!)

One by one, he debunked all the old floral myths I know- neither pennies nor pills in the water will help, condition garden flowers in warm water once cut, rubbing alcohol is just as easy as flame to seal a milky stem, and it's not necessary to cut stems underwater! All of these things have been tested to the nth degree at the Oasis lab. This arrangement was fully assembled before being squeezed as one piece into its sizable vase.

I was glad to have attended the lecture, and not only because I came out with two stems of striking blue orchids. Kevin pointed out that these are the types of colours they are using in floristry to draw younger generations into buying flowers. Not usually one for flashy dyed blooms, I found myself strangely gravitating toward these when I picked them out.

Before it was time to leave the show, I faced three crucial tests on the way back to the bus:

1) Your head has been swiveling for hours- can you still walk an even, straight line like this one?

2) You've observed many different plant cultivars- are you seeing in double vision yet?

And with a little coaching from my husband, I completed the last one. . .

3) You must be exhausted. Can you obey the sign that says "DO NOT ENTER" and avoid collapsing in the show garden's comfy, upholstered furniture?

Just narrowly passed this one. But I think I'll still try to simulate it at home as I recount the show. After all, I'll need some practice- next year's theme is Salsa.

World Flower Show 2011

2011-06-20T13:15:00.001-04:00

On my way to the World Flower Show in Boston this weekend, I needed only to follow the stream of excited ladies in floral print clothing to locate it at the World Trade Center. Though the show has been operating every three years since 1972, this is the first time for it to be held on American soil. As I wove my way in the door and through the exhibits, there were a few profound thoughts that dawned on me, which I'll share with you now. . . The first thought hit me hard, and it was this: everything I thought I knew about arranging flowers should be snipped away and thrown in the waste bin.

Delegates from over 30 countries took part in exhibiting unusual displays of flowers. The first arrangement I laid eyes on was this stunning mountain of warm-hued roses, lilies and snapdragons. Despite the beauty, it didn't take me long to realize that this was possibly the most traditional arrangement on the show floor (besides the gargantuan table centerpieces).

Most arrangements featured a few select plant species, some floral and some more structural like dried leaves, wood, etc. Arrangements with similar themes used the same materials.

I found this one in the "Fire" themed section. I'm proud to say it was put together by a former Ikebana teacher of mine. I can always spot her work at the big flower shows.

Scrupulous attention was paid to texture in each display. Some florists chose to paint foliage to highlight texture even more. I don't know how I feel about that. I saw good, bad and ugly examples of painted foliage. I liken it to the same predisposition some florists have for applying sparkles. You either have some restraint, or you sparkle like the lights went out. This painted foliage was pulled off pretty well. It was a popular material in the "Storm" themed section.

(Another profound thought that hit me when I was trying to photograph the virtual cyclones and tsunamis in the "Storm" section was that it wasn't very easy to photograph large cyclones and tsunamis when surrounded by eager crowds and exhibition lights.)

Texture took on a new level in the miniature floral displays. I tried to imagine how much painstaking labor went in to this thumb-sized arrangement.

This one must not have been light on labor either.

I saw foliage being woven, wrapped, dangled, draped and sewn, but one technique I'm not too fussy about is contorting the leaves in an unnatural, awkward kind of way. Or chopping the tips off these particular leaves. In abstract art, it is an understatement to say that square forms are important but- when incorporating natural elements, where do you draw the line?

Here similar leaves are used to a much less awkward effect. This arrangement was in the "Sunrise" themed section. The picture that follows after it is of the "Stone" themed section. The main theme of this year's show was "This Glorious Earth". As I discovered more of the sub-themes, I finally understood what they meant by that.

There were a few sections of monochromatic displays. With hot lights, heady fragrance and crowds all around, I found it quite refreshing taking in the pure blue section, and more or less tranquil looking at the green.

Part of the exhibition featured two-dimensional displays. These incorporated plant parts large and small into collages on canvass.

Many displays aimed to trick the eye by using plants to represent familiar objects. This included everything from food to garments, jewelry, animals and people. They were fun to look at, and definitely some of my favorite works at the show.

Some of them featured natural fibers like wool.

And others featured not so natural fibers quite successfully.

Even objects like old light bulbs, cassette tapes and computer keyboards were not exempt. Bright ideas.

I was curious to look at the "Writing" themed section. I'm still convinced, however, that a picture is worth a thousand words!

In all of the things I realized while observing these world-class displays, I think the most important one was how much I do not know about the world of floral art! But even amongst these most innovative displays, on my way out of the show, I still found that the traditional mountain-like arrangement of roses, snapdragons and lilies had some kind of hold on me. Always will.

Blogger's Bloom Day: June 2011

2011-06-15T19:02:00.038-04:00

This month's Garden Bloggers Blooms Day Post is full of New England natives, doppelgangers, invasive species and oddballs, but between the trivia and the plant ID conundrums there is beauty in every blossom. This beauty is accessible to anyone who stops to take a closer look at the margins of the road. I should also mention that garden showstoppers like peonies, oriental poppies and irises are now also out in full force, stealing the spotlight as usual.

Grasses of all kinds have just finished flowering, evident by strands of stamen with ripened anthers dangling out of seed pods here and there.

Every time I see deep blue lupins, I'm reminded of the mountain passes in British Columbia where they flourish along highways and trails. They always seemed to mirror the colour of the sky and the glacier lakes there. It's a refreshing thought in the heat of early summer.

Milkweed plants (Aslepias syriaca) have now reached their peak height, and fuzzy flower buds have appeared. The plant is edible as a new shoot, but you can also eat the new buds. All parts must be boiled before eating, as the raw sap is slightly toxic. I prefer to leave it to the monarch butterflies, who search for milkweed plants after migrating all the way from Mexico. As habitat for milkweed becomes more and more developed, hundreds and thousands of monarchs must live without this staple part of their diet. It's also a host plant for their larvae.

Annual fleabane (Erigeron annus) is a cheerful addition this time of year in disturbed soil along margins of parks, roadsides, railroad tracks and abandoned land. Although it provides sustenance for all sorts of pollinating insects, recent research has found that the flower produces seeds asexually without pollination.As the common name suggests, it used to be thought that this plant deterred fleas when burned.

If the sunny yellow flowers of silvery cinquefoil (Potentilla argentea) are showing through your lawn right now, you probably have highly compacted, dry soil. Though I found this specimen growing tall in a meadowy area that hadn't been mowed for some time, the perennial can adapt to living in mowed areas by taking on a more prostrate growth habit.

Native to both the Old World and the New World, this plant has weaved its way through legends and medicine of both cultures and is still found in mainstream medicinal teas today. Its ability to propagate and grow in the least fertile soils, either by seed or by underground rhizomes, can only be matched by those plants available to fix their own nitrogen. Even through the winter, yarrow (Achillea millifoium) maintains greenery at the base and dried seed heads up to six inches tall.

This bird vetch (Vicia cracca) was one of two types of vetch (the other being crownvetch, with more clover-like blooms) to be introduced as a fodder crop for livestock. I found this one doing what vetch does so well in landscaped areas, climbing inconspicuously up other plants, then flowering when it gets to the top.

Bittersweet nightshade (Solanum dulcamara) fruits are non-toxic, but the rest of the plant can be toxic and narcotic. It is most at home in fertile garden soil, climbing cultivated shrubs. Some gardeners choose to leave it be, as the two-tone flowers are somewhat attractive.

I've had turns at both loving and loathing this plant. On the west coast, common blackberry (Rubus allegheniensis) was the bane of any gardener trying to restore previously neglected land, as it would frequently form thickets of fast-growing canes with sharp thorns. On the other hand, it was a fine way to occupy a summer afternoon as a kid to go down to the bottom of the ravine with the largest bowl from the kitchen and wade through the thicket, picking berries for fresh pie. I don't see as many dense thickets of it where I live now, but this week I spied a few canes in bloom along the edge of the parking lot to one of my favourite hiking trails. It's appearance is quite similar to black raspberry, which has chalky white stems.

The multiflora rose (Rosa multiflora) could be mistaken for blackberries while still in flower, but upon close inspection the leaves are much smaller. The plant was introduced in the 1950's by the US Soil Conservation Service as a solution to erosion-prone banks on public lands, but has since been recognized in many states as a highly invasive plant. I found this one growing on the marginal area between a wetland and field.

The dark elderberry fruits that follow these corymbs of white flowers are popular in local folk recipes for food, beverage and medicine.

I found this 10ft shrub growing alongside the blackberry in the shade of maple and pine trees, but I have yet to find the name. The flowers are quite similar to elderberry, but the leaves are different and it blooms slightly before elderberry. It seems pretty common around here. Any help?

This one is cultivated not wild, but it seems to demand so much attention at the front of my garden gate that I had to add it. Yesterday I witnessed someone pull over and haphazardly park her car to climb out and take multiple pictures of the tree. The flowers are prolific and eye-catching, but that's not why all the critters and the passing schoolkids love this tree. They're all waiting for the bracts to fall off and the little globes of fruit to turn from green to yellow to red. It gets the name strawberry dogwood by those fruits, which are edible by August. Though as the bracts turn from white to pink, I spotted an eager cardinal already pecking at the centers, checking for ripeness.

Climate Made-to-Order

2011-06-15T10:17:00.000-04:00

I carry one hard and fast rule in my pocket whenever I am shopping for new plants, and that is "Right plant for the right place". If need be, I'll repeat the maxim to any others seeking plant advice too. That's because so many issues related to plant health can be traced back to microclimate. That being said, I make a big exception to the rule when it comes to growing fruits and vegetables.

Tomatoes, peppers, corn, squash, and so many other edibles come with a list of growing requirements that would be impossible to fill by the maxim "Right plant for the right place". Hybridized for generations by gardeners who would go to any measure for the most plentiful, succulent harvest, most modern fruits and vegetables come with the need for pampering built right into their DNA. The astute gardener knows just how to tweak the growing environment to fit the requirements of each plant, starting with temperature.

Being from the west coast where the growing season begins weeks earlier, I was the first one at my community garden this year to have my vegetable plots weeded, amended and planted. I fussed over the vegetables to make them comfortable, but temperature weighed heavily on my mind. Aside from me being a little early to plant, it was an unusually cold start to spring. I put the three best tips I know for regulating heat to the test. These are them:

1) Water walls for the heat-loving tomatoes. Tomatoes, tomatillos, peppers, squash, peas, beans are all products of pollinated flowers. Only once the plant has been coaxed into blooming and is then pollinated can it transform those flowers into the parts that we eat. All flower buds need a certain amount of warmth to open and for the pollen to ripen. That's where these ingenious water walls come in. I filled the inflatable parts with water and stuck them around three of my tomato plants. The water captures heat when the sun is shining, and retains the heat even after temperatures drop, creating nicely insulated air for the plants.

2) Rocks on the side. Just like the water walls, rocks soak up heat from the sun and that makes the air around them a little warmer. They release the heat so slowly that the air stays warm long after the sun is gone. This helps hasten cell division needed for shoot growth and blossoms, among other things. That's why the plants I grow around the gravel and cement areas of my yard are some of the first to pop up and flower. I extended this idea to my veggie plots and placed rocks (all the ones I found when turning the soil over earlier this season) on the surface of the soil between the rows.

3) Wall flowers. My great uncle always kept a peach tree on the south side of his house. It was stuffed in a small patch of soil between the driveway and the chimney, but somehow it seemed to thrive. He became known through the neighbourhood for handing out large fuzzy peaches at the end of summer, and certainly climbed the list of my favourite relatives for this reason. For a sun-loving plant like peaches, there is no better place to gather heat than a south-facing wall, especially one that is light in colour to reflect the sunlight. If you are in zone denial and want to grow plants that don't usually thrive in your region, get access to one of these walls and you might be pleasantly surprised.

I always knew that water, rock, and southern exposure were great sources of retaining heat, but it's my first season putting that to the test with water walls and rock piles in the veggie patch. I was encouraged by posts from other bloggers like Cohocton River Rock Micro Farm. So far, I have been very pleased with the results! Besides the chard seeds that volunteered to grow between the gravel patio and the concrete pad, my tomatoes are flowering and fruiting prolifically, and my jalepenos came early.

Of course, there are times when too much heat is retained around vegetable plants. Even with the heat-loving plants, it takes some vigilance to make sure that high temperatures are not drying out the soil. Veggies like salad greens, braising greens, radishes and broccoli are getting too much heat when they begin to wilt or flower. Flowering takes nutrients away from radish roots and it's too late to harvest greens or broccoli when they have flowered. Since I planted a whole row of broccoli (my husband is a fan) and I wanted to preserve the flower buds (one of the parts we eat) for as long as it took the plants to become stalky, I shaded them with a row cover made of Reemay cloth. This also helps some of the pests stay off of the plants.

At the end of the day, pampering my vegetable plants with extra shade or heat, extra water, extra food, snipping and tying reminds me of how lovely it is to have other plants that don't need all of this. It's a thought to keep in mind whenever I'm tempted to make new additions to the garden.

This Year's Inchworm Damage

2011-06-09T22:35:00.009-04:00

Just as the temperature began to warm about 10 degrees above freezing and the buds began to break this spring, I spotted this nest of caterpillars.

On a branch above the nest, there was a large insect poised unmoving, intently waiting. . . The beetle's diligence must have paid off with a delicious caterpillar meal, but there were many others that escaped him and his ilk.

That much has been evident for weeks, as I bumped into thread after thread of the ones that got away. These threads are actually a second line of defense against predators for the caterpillars. If the caterpillar is threatened by a bird or another insect, it will let go of the branch with all of its legs except for the rear prolegs and make like a small green twig. If that jig fails, then it lets go with those prolegs and relies on a thread that it fastened to the branch with the spinneret in its head when it originally let go.

This year these caterpillars have left incredible damage in their wake. I took some pictures of a Norway maple on which the leaves have turned to rags, from top to bottom. Other foliage of choice for these worms that move inch by inch have been ash, elm, cherry, dogwood, crabapple, and even oak.

According to University of Massachusetts, the tree must put on a second flush of growth in order to recover. To aid regrowth, it is recommended that sufficient water be supplied, but no application of fertilizer. Drought and other leaf eaters may worsen the outlook of the tree, and if defoliation is incurred just three years in a row, all of the affected branches die.

The inchworms that cause this damage were first thought to be fall cankerworm, which have a similar life cycle to the real culprit, winter moth. Winter moth was introduced in Nova Scotia from Europe in the 1950's. In Europe,there are plenty of natural predators to regulate the winter moth population. As the moth spread to Massachusetts, it became an unregulated pest, killing numerous whole trees. Researchers at the University of Massachusetts have used pheremone traps to determine the range of winter moth over the 11 years it has been present in this state. After it was introduced in Nova Scotia, it was introduced separately in Vancouver, Canada where it also became a pest.

If you see damage to a plant by the winter moth inchworm, either trees or shrubs or perennials underneath a tree where they may have hatched, water the plant to help replenish the growth before any further damage is done by other leaf-eaters. If there are inchworms present, they can be killed on contact with Spinosad.
I haven't seen any of the inchworms for about a week now. By this time of year, late May to early June, they have dropped to the soil to pupate. Research on the west coast has determined that some native parasitic wasps and flies will prey on the pupae.

After pupation they join with a few other species of familiar brown moths that flock to our porch lights. Last fall was a particularly abundant year for them. As adult moths, they climb up tree trunks to lay eggs which will in turn hatch into caterpillars. The moths can be thwarted from climbing up tree trunks somewhat effectively with sticky bands.

During the last phase before they hatch, dormant oil can be applied to the bark of trees to kill the eggs. With any luck, trees and will break bud and leaf out to provide us with shade and fruit undivided by holes!

Wordless Wednesday: My Cats Pretending to be Plants

2011-06-08T19:00:00.001-04:00

I was looking for one for that spot.

She promised to leave the birds and chipmunks alone, though I somehow get the feeling this tactic of 'blending in" is part of a larger plan. . .

Spring Growth and More Chores Than Before

2011-06-04T23:12:00.002-04:00

When I returned home from my trip, it seemed that my garden had grown just as much as I had! The weather turned from unseaonable chill to summer-like heat in a short time, thrusting things upward and onward.

I replaced the winter bird feeder right away with one of the beacons of summer, a bright red hummingbird feeder. The titmice, chickadees and cardinals that were regulars during winter had not come to feed in a month. They were done with fattening up and likely to have found mates, made nests, raised young, and found new seasonal food sources. Meanwhile, hummingbirds would be looking for some post-migration refreshment.

Cleaning up after the winter birds included pulling some weeds that sprouted from the seeds in the feeder. I let the sunflowers grow as tall as they might, but pulled up the rest that grew thick under the feeder. Aside from those weeds, there were a few clover and crab grass volunteers. Rampant garlic, mint, and and spurge shoots also needed some tending to.

I thinned out my crops of early greens as well, just in time for a lush salad or two. After being on the road, it's always nice to home home to fresh eats like this. I'll get a week or two more out of these, using them as micro-greens, and then it will be time to uproot the majority of them so that the radish roots and the romaine florets can mature.

My warm season seedlings responded favourably to the change in temperature. Because I don't have the space to start them inside, I started them outside as soon as the threat of frost was over. They were sporting seed leaves, but not for long. With luck, I'll have pickling cucumbers, rainbow tomatoes, edamame and black bush beans to transplant beside my already thriving veggie plants from the local farm. Among the seeds I planted, I found some maple seeds that the wind planted in my seedling tray too!

About a week before I left, I also planted some lawn seeds, as I do every year. My mini-lawn already needed mowing when I got back. This is the size of lawn I can handle! I snipped it back with some hand shears in just two minutes. I leave the clippings on the lawn, just as I would with a mulch mower, so that as they disintegrate they leave their nutrients in the soil. I find this miniature green pasture just as beautiful as my other container plants, although it requires a little more maintenance than they do.

Of course, all of my plants were in need of some water. Some needed it more than others. My sage was suffering some drought, evident by the powdery mildew attacking its leaves.The most efficient way of controlling this fungus is to remove all the effected leaves from the plant. It's a good thing the young plant had enough leaves to spare after the attack. I moved it out of its vulnerable placement in a shallow pot and full sun.

As I watered all my plants I gave them a meal of liquid fertilizer as well. I use organic seaweed fertilizer, which feeds the soil first. This way the nutrients will be available to the roots all season. It's the kind of fertilizer that plants take up at their own pace, so I can enrich the soil regularly without any worry about burning plants like with chemical fertilizers. Rich soil is especially important to plants this time of year as they spread their roots, lengthen their stems, grow their leaves and transform their flowers.

The most conspicuous plant growth that takes place in my garden is by far the reaching of the clematis tendrils. Every day I find it claiming another victim. I politely remove the tendril from the shrub or tall grass it has grabbed onto and redirect it along the top of the fence. Nonetheless, it seems to have a mind of its own. I found it grasping and scaling numerous other plants and objects in my yard when I returned, and found it necessary to train the vine with bits of wool, tying it fast to the fence. (After training it I gave it a nice meal.)

When I ventured over to my vegetable plots, I had expected to see more growth from my rhubarb. Looks like the slugs paid a few visits, inhibiting the health of the leaves. They did the same thing to a few of my pepper plants and my only dahlia. I just may have to inhibit the health of those slugs with some bait or sharp eggshells or worse.

My new cranberry plant seemed to be healthy and unscathed by my absence. In fact, I counted one, two, three future cranberries. I plopped it, nursery pot and all, into a small tub of water before I left and that seemed to pay off. For the longer term, I plan to find a special pot for it with no holes in the bottom. As long as this New England native has access to boggy soil and a good amount of sun, it will continue to be happy.

Finding new pots was one of the more favourable garden chores of the week, but my most favourite chore didn't crop up until I came across a few bare spots in the garden soil. I would just have to scour the nursery for a few new plants! Now that my garden was filling out, I could clearly see the places that needed a little more greenery. One of these was the pot that I grew my raspberries in last year, at left. (I chose to transplant the raspberry into one of my vegetable plots earlier in the season.)

When all those chores were done, there was just one more thing left to do: light a torch and enjoy the evening!

Nutshells, Gardens, and New York City

2011-06-03T00:47:00.003-04:00

A delivery van pulls up in front of a shop in New York's flower district.

A week has passed since my first visit to New York City. I drank in as many sights and sounds as I could in the span of three days there. Thinking back, most of those sights and sounds won't fit in any nutshell description I can conjure up. The city has always struck me from afar as a battleground of eccentricities- a place where people ravenous for art amusements, culinary enchantments, architectural diversions, or fashion fads can each be indulged. So naturally, I went expecting to get a little fuel for my own obsession: plants.

A refreshing green alley.

I hit the Flower District early in the morning to see the source that so many New Yorkers rely on for greenery. It wasn't hard to locate from a block or two away. The first sign that I had arrived was a flat of 10ft tall palm trees chained together on the sidewalk, then an amazing variety of topiary, and then colorful protea, peonies, and roses on either side. At street level there were busy wholesale vendors laboring over deliveries, and overlooking the street I could see many windows scrolled over with names of florists. I walked a block and the greenery disappeared. Because of escalating real estate prices, this district is just a fragment of what it once was.

Wholesale selections of greenery.

As soon as I could, I made a pilgrimage to the well-known Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Beyond the admissions desk I found a pristine Japanese garden complete with a pagoda and plump koi fish. A hilltop woodland was parted by a path with mock-up Hollywood stars on it, featuring famous personalities of Brooklyn. This gave way to rolling lawns below, dotted by specimen shrub collections like olives and plums. The periphery of the lawns featured numerous pockets of theme gardens, and of course, the chain of glass conservatories I had seen in pictures.

Attempting to capture the conservatories.


Orchid roots suspended over an indoor walkway.

Heavy humidity began to snake through the gardens at mid-morning, followed by crowds of schoolchildren. I could tell that this was a much-anticipated field trip for them, and I chuckled when I realized I had this much in common with them. As a big fan of children's gardens myself, I had been just as happy to look through the discovery garden, eye out the school vegetable plots and peer up into the giant twig sculptures.

In the Discovery Garden, I found kid-sized sitting areas where they can sort samples from the miniature meadow, forest and farm demonstrations.

This twig sculpture was created specifically for the site by Patrick Dougherty.

This area contains handfuls of vegetable plots tended by local schoolchildren.

Walking back over the Brooklyn Bridge and through Manhattan, I saw gardens peeking out in all sorts of spaces. . .

A Greenwich Village flower box.

An front door display in Uptown.

Decadent pink hydrangeas

It wasn't long before I realized that this was an extremely walkable city. Before I knew it, I had been walking for three days straight, from landmark to landmark! Many of the lawns and gardens I saw (including the Brooklyn Botanical Garden) were behind fences, even those in public areas. Could it be that NYC gardens are spaces of order and civility, while on the other side of the fence, the city itself is a vast wilderness? It certainly seemed that way at times.

Central Park is clearly the heart of the city. It's in the way people carry themselves there, under the century old trees and across the verdant lawns.

Tree elevations

Sophisticated rooftop gardens and sun rooms in the museum mile

Roses rival the skyline at Jefferson Market Garden.

Central Park was thoroughly rejuvenating, but my second favorite greenspace was a mid-size garden in Greenwich Village called Jefferson Market Garden. It has history, rich variety of plants, and community involvement. On the day I visited, there were lots of familiar flower faces about, and people taking pause to look at them.

In my meanderings I hadn't done much shopping. Just before I left, I visited one of the eclectic vintage clothing shops near my hotel. Here was a very floral part of New York City, right under my nose! Floral prints, embroidered greenery and satin blooms bombarded me from every corner. Though the fabric flowers were charming, it was an understated pink vase from the 1950's that spoke the loudest to me. I carried it back home. I doubted that New York City could ever be described in a nutshell. . . though it could be described as a vessel itself. . .

Vintage ornament-turned-flower-vessel

Three days was not enough! My plans for next visit include the New York Botanical Garden and greenspace along The High Line, among passels of other things.

Wordless Wednesday: Strawberry Blush

2011-06-01T18:02:00.001-04:00

Violets: A Most Sercretive Wildflower

2011-05-22T10:30:00.001-04:00

A "lion" among wildflowers.

"The broken glass
And the rusty nails
Where the wild violets grow
Say goodbye to the railroad
And the mad dogs of summer
And everything that I know. . ."
--Tom Waits, singer/songwriter

The wild violets (Viola sororia)have been in bloom for weeks here now, filling cracks in pavement, patches in lawns, thicket bottoms and drab ditches with the color purple (and less commonly, a mixture of purple and white). I look forward to seeing these flowers dappling the landscape in mid to late spring, but this year, it's not the colorful blossoms I have been waiting for. As the plants became more conspicuous I began to seek out the ones that had been in bloom the longest (including the one that seems to be slowly sneaking under my garden fence). I lifted up the petals and leaves to peek at the root zone of these plants, often to find only bare soil. Finally, the other morning I found what I had been waiting for!

The lower petals are longer, and serve as a landing pad for pollinators. Insects are guided by the petal stripes to where the nectar is, deep inside the spur at the back of the flower.

Underneath the conspicuous blue-violet flowers and the glossy, heart-shaped leaves, this plant has a vital secret. Sometime after it grows the flowers designed to attract pollinators, the violet grows a second set of flowers that remain hidden and closed. Because these flower shoots barely break the soil surface, they can be hard to find, but these are the key to the plant's propagation. Although violets can spread using short rhizomous roots, they also rely on seeds, and cleistogamous (hidden) flowers produce many more seeds than the insect pollinated ones.

The cleistogamous flowers barely breach the soil surface, and never actually open.

Both types of seeds, the ones produced by two cross-pollinated flowers and the ones produced by just one cleistogamous flower, eventually begin to dry and shrink. The pressure causes the seed pod to burst so that the seeds are projected at some distance from the parent plant. Some of them serve as meals to ground-feeding birds and chipmunks, but many others grow into new plants that add dashes of purple in all sorts of places. The short-stemmed flowers are popular in small wildflower bouquets that children are prone to picking, and the leaves and flowers are edible.

The Newport Flower Show: Anticipating Extravangance

2011-05-19T14:51:00.001-04:00

There's nothing more extravagant than when one flower show advertises via an exhibit at another flower show. Or so this is what I thought when I took in the Newport Mansions exhibit at the Boston Flower and Garden show in March. The display featured a life-size representation of Amy Vanderbilt, hostess of the mansions, surrounded by colorful shrubs, hundreds of blooming bulbs, stone sculptures and a delightfully detailed table setting. The figure's long, trailing coat and dress were made entirely out of plant parts, using a technique called "florage". As I craned around her, attempting to capture the display with my camera, I noticed handfuls of other show-goers doing the same. It wasn't long before I had to make way for others, and since then I've seen many photographic renditions of the scene online.

I was glad to have been there. Seeing the display filled my hunger for rich displays of fine horticulture. Or so I thought. When I received a press release this week about the upcoming Annual Newport Flower Show, that thought was swiftly extinguished. I wanted more! The report announced that Bartlett Tree Experts would be recreating "one of the most celebrated creations of the Golden Age of American gardens" on the front lawn of the mansion. This refers to the Blue Garden of Beacon Hill House. Although a quick search in my garden references revealed no information about the Blue Garden, it seems to be a crystallized gem in Newport history. That's what throttled my curiosity about the mansions at Newport, and a summer flower show I had never considered before.

Located in Rhode Island, the mansions themselves are a popular destination for history-loving Bostonians who want to get a glimpse of America's first enclave of luxury resorts. The flower show is hosted in the mansions every year, and this year's theme is "Entertaining Newport Style". Having never been to any historical resorts, I can only imagine what this means. Perusing the show's offerings online helped me fill in some of the blanks. Entry themes in the horticulture, design, and photography divisions include interpretations of the period's fetes, feasts, dresses, jewels, sports, and luxury imports- all using plants. Historic details such as gas lights, even the occasional daybreak-post-party swim at the beach have not been over looked.

My definition of extravagance and luxury has been known to end at outdoor furniture with cushions on it, and maybe some gin and tonic at hand. (And if I'm being totally honest, I'll tell you that I only bought my first real outdoor furniture last year, and I don't yet have any outdoor cushions!) From this perspective, sipping a G&T on my new plastic wicker and looking over my patio garden, it's easy for me to be satisfied with the luxury of the moment. But when I close my eyes, I can now see the outline of a woman whose garments are made entirely of plants, rising out of a garden of jewel-like blooms. . . and I think, possibly, my idea of extravagance may soon be shifting. . .

Coming soon, on July 24th, 25th and 26th

Wordless Wednesday: Fog and Flowers

2011-05-18T15:56:00.002-04:00

Toils in My Soil

2011-05-17T23:02:00.001-04:00

Plots in the community garden that I belong to are not for the faint of heart. I'd like to say that it takes a gardener as stubborn as mugwort, sly as bindweed, hungry as a slug and spritely as a sparrow to face the adversaries there. Honestly though, I think that I wouldn't have made it through previous seasons at those plots without a great deal of blind optimism. Here's what things looks like at the beginning of the season, before cultivation. But, I think it's going to be a great year.

The weeds served as a green mulch of sorts, retaining nutrients between seasons. After I removed them, I decided to till the soil. In many situations, tilling can damage soil structure, causing valuable pores (which hold air and water for the plants) to break down. It may also expose weed seeds in the soil to water and sunlight, activating them to grow. In this case, I already knew that the soil is prone to sogginess and compaction, two hallmarks of heavy clay. To balance things out, I needed to dig in sand and compost, which meant turning over the top layer to at least a 1ft depth. As for the weed seeds, my soil is so chalk-full of them that there are always some ready to sprout!
Luckily, when I started to till, I noticed that there was a layer of sand underneath all the clay, so I mixed the two together.

I know that nature abhors a vacuum. If I didn't plant up these plots soon, nature would do it with species of her choosing. What's more, I already gave into buying vegetable plants days before, and they taunted me every time I looked out my patio door. You know what I'm talking about.
But could my soil sustain these new plants? Like any well-meaning vegetable gardener, I wanted gloating rights at the end of the season. I envisioned (and still do) gigantic peppers, beans by the bucketful, and flourishing Asian vegetables. Better do a soil test to be sure of the soil- one that doesn't involve waiting long for results.

The old standby is using your hands to feel for the presence of gritty sand or squishy clay. If you want to know the proportions of each material, which I did, all that you need is a jar and some water.

I filled some jars 1/3 full of soil from each of my planting areas, poured water on top of that, and shook up each jar. I let the jars sit for a few hours so the soil samples could settle into layers of silt, clay, sand and organic matter. If you like numbers, you can measure the width of the layers and calculate the percentage of each material.

Then there's the pH test, which can be useful when growing vegetables because they're less tolerant of acidic soils. I've heard that the same color-changing chemical compound in litmus paper can be found in red cabbage, so I boiled some cabbage and combined a teaspoon or so of soil from each site with the water from the cabbage. The results were a disappointing brownish-purple. Supposedly the water would range from blue to pink depending on the acidity, but I didn't get much range past murky. Maybe I used too much soil. Considering the relative convenience of litmus paper, next time I'll stick with the litmus test.

Judging by the existing materials and the acidity of the soil, I get a better idea of how much compost I should add, and if I need to add any lime to make it more alkaline. Testing the soil now will also help me diagnose any plant problems that come up over the season, because so much of plant health depends on healthy soil.

After tilling in the amendments too the soil I made a series of berms for extra drainage, planted my new vegetables and walked away with an optimistic smile.

Garden Bloggers Blooms Day 05/11

2011-05-15T18:26:00.003-04:00

It's my second blooms day, and I have oodles of local, blooming flowers to share! Off the top I've included some wild species. There are also apple and cherry blossoms, violets, strawberry flowers in bloom and other spring spoils that I haven't included here.

The highbush blueberry grows along many of my favorite hiking trails.

I found this little wildflower on the edge of a bank in an oak forest. Anyone familiar with the name? I'll have to search my books for it a little more. . .

Garlic mustard (Alliaria petiolata)colonizes most any untended urban soils. Mowing down the plant before its flowers transform into seeds is wise. The leaves are edible, and make a pungent addition to any vegetable dishes.

Japanese honeysuckle vine (Lonicera) was introduced as an ornamental plant, and now thrives in many disturbed open and woodland sites all along the east coast.

Commonly found in lawns and meadows, ground ivy (Glechoma hederacea) was once considered to be a useful medicinal plant, as well as a fermenting agent in beermaking (instead of hops).

Greater Celandine (Chelidonium majus) can be easily identified by the bright orange sap inside its stems.

Lily-of-the-Valley bush (Pieris japonica) is a flowering shrub that can fit in any sized garden (even container gardens) and requires very little maintenance.

Lilac flowers of white, deep purple and mauve are peeking over fences across New England right now.

Viburnum rhytidophyllum is a broadleaf evergreen that pairs nicely with rhododendrons.

Viburnum 'Chesapeake' is similar to hydrangea, but beats them to the punch when it comes to bloom time.

The strong, sweet fragrance of this Viburnum burkwoodii makes it a great entryway pick.

Fothergilla major glows in the long rays of sun.

Flowering quince (Chaenomeles japonica)

Enkianthus is similar to Pieris in many ways, but much less common.

Early-blooming azaleas offer strking color even from some distance away.

With their delicate appearance, Bleeding Hearts (Dicentra sp.) are deceptively hardy. It's not long after the first shoots appear that they display an elegant scaffold of stems and pendant flowers.

Spurge (Euphorbia sp.) is a striking foliage plant with weedy tendencies.

Lamium is used by many to control erosion, but has wandering tendencies. At Mt. Auburn cemetery, I found this small, well maintained patch surrounded by lawn.

The papery buds of chive flowers are just beginning to break. I'll be harvesting some to eat very soon.

Perriwinkle (Vinca minor) is a vigorous groundcover that bears many blooms when in sun, but can grow in any light condition.

I love to see flowering Phlox spilling over front retainer walls this time of year. Paired with veronica, euphorbia, or any other rock and alpine plants it can be quite eye-catching.

One of the many perks of traveling by bicycle is catching the fragrance of Lily-of-the-Valley as I ride by this stretch of stone wall!

The snapdragons in the Natick Farm's hoophouses are prolific.

The flowers of Solomon's Seal are easy to miss underneath their arching stalks in the shade.

Tall dogwood trees dot the hilly landscape at Mt. Auburn Cemetery.

Davidii involucrata is sometimes called the handkerchief tree after its large white bracts that turn from white to brown.

Korean Mountain Ash

Styrax japonica's pendent bells reveal bright yellow stamens if viewed from below.

Magnolia 'Sunsation' petals peel back to allow the fruit inside to mature.

A panicle of yellow, pink and white chestnut flowers.

My tomatoes are in bloom too! I'll be posting soon about what I'm doing to protect these beautiful blossoms from the cold.

Wordless Wednesday: Sad Robin

2011-05-11T09:27:00.001-04:00

Kids Being Kids

2011-05-10T12:21:00.000-04:00

Two-month old goat kids feeding their curiosities.

Last year's week-old kids and lambs.

Yanking out the dandelions.

As I bicycled up the farm driveway on Monday, I noticed a few white shapes frolicking across the field. Some of the goat kids had managed to escape from their creek-side pasture into the vegetable field! I quickly parked my bike and alerted a farmer. "Yeah, we know." she told me, followed by, "Not again! I've had just about enough of those. . ."

It seems the goat kids have tried this trick frequently during the past week. Every year, the farmers build a veritable playground out of planks and stumps for the new flock of youngsters to practice jumping and climbing on. They gain dexterity very quickly, finding their way onto their mothers' backs for a walkabout or onto any low-slung rooftops and trees, and yes, even out of fences within the first week or two of their lives.

Looks like the camera is next on the menu!

After about two months of canoodling with their mothers, they are weened and put in a separate pen. By then their natural curiosities have turned from climbing on everything to nibbling on everything. Rather than graze like sheep, goats tend to browse like deer, choosing the most succulent shrubs and weeds.

In the case of these goats, the most succulent weeds were to be found in the not-yet planted vegetable patch! During the time I spent with them, it seemed like they sought out dandelion flowers to eat first, before eating the rosettes of leaves, deadnettle stalks and long grasses. Grazing the tops of these weeds and grasses, just as they may be cut with a lawnmower, shrinks the roots every time it is done. So even though the goats may not eat the whole weed (although they might eat the roots too if they were easy to access), they are helping prepare the vegetable field in their own way. Goats at this farm also help reduce poison ivy throughout the year, eating all parts of the noxious vine.

Marooned at the Garden Center!

2011-05-09T06:29:00.001-04:00

My modest haul of purchases.

Here's what happens when I'm marooned at the garden center in a thunder/ lightening/ hail storm: I buy a lot of stuff! It was coming down so loudly on the roof of the glass house that it seems I could no longer hear the voice of reason. While the weather prohibited us from making the trek back to the vehicle (lightening came in frequent bursts and the ground was white with hail stones), I picked up some things that I probably wouldn't have otherwise bought. Now that I've got them all safely home, here are my afterthoughts on buying those items. . .

Crocosmia corms. Really? How did these get in there? I distinctly remember doing battle with these ever-multiplying marble-like roots in Victoria. In the stretch of one season, it seemed they could spread thickly from one end of a mixed border to the other. I spent long afternoons, gardening fork in hand, trying to at least thin them out between the shrubs. Must be nostalgia that got them into my cart today. Needless to say, I'll be either planting them in a container or in the cut-flower portion of my community plots and digging them up for the winter. They won't be as hardy in this climate either.

Crocosmia "Lucifer"

Gladiolus corms. I've never been the type of gardener to cultivate these highly intensive flowers. They require sharply drained soil, fertilizer throughout the season, staking, digging up, fungicide and more. If I compare that with maintenance required for the spring bulbs and foliage plants I'm accustomed to growing (a simple repetition of the mantra "que sera, sera" will usually suffice) I am stumped as to how these will fit in. It seems like the more I contemplate portioning off a small portion of my community plots for some cutting flowers, the wilder my imagination gets. Que sera, sera. . .

Ixia corms. Speaking of imagination, I couldn't imagine how to cultivate these when I first got them home. They reminded me of a flower I saw once a long time ago, but I couldn't place the name. When I looked them up, my A-Z Encyclopedia of Garden Plants told me they were "found in grassy and sandy, sometimes marshy slopes from low to high altitudes in South Africa." It's not an exact match for my site, but I'll give it a try in my ever-expanding cut-flower garden, if only to see which of the rainbow of colors on the package label actually come true (a query that also stands for those gladiolas).

Alocasia sp. (Elephant's Ear) tuber. I'm a sucker for foliage plants, and this is one of the most exotic-looking ones out there. It seems to lend instant atmosphere to the garden. I've grown it before, but gave it away instead of overwintering the tuber indoors. This time I'm playing for keeps.

One of the many new leaves that came down in the storm.

Armoracia (horseradish) root. I might actually be able to stand by this purchase. Given its culinary utility and its reputation for growing and naturalizing in a variety of soils, I'm glad I found it. It will come in handy grated fresh in Asian meals, on pot roast, or in pickling at the end of the season.

Allium cepa (Yellow Onion). I welcome any Allium species in my garden, especially on that I use in the kitchen as much as this. Though the scent of the foliage is too strong for my patio garden, it can serve as a pest deterrent in my vegetable plot. So long as there is adequate drainage in the soil, its an easy crop to grow.

I couldn't take my usual dog-path through the garden center today, so I ended up with an unusual selection of purchases, but I'm pretty sure my friend has me beat. Only after the threat of lightening was completely gone did we attempt to load her sizable metal cow sculpture into the car!

Mom Knows Best

2011-05-08T00:34:00.000-04:00

Butter and Eggs daffodils (foreground)

Narcisscus bulbocodium

If ever I had a bad dream as a child, my mother would tell me, "Just imagine you are lying in a field of daffodils."

I would drift back to sleep, virtually surrounded by brilliant yellow flowers.

The image still comes back when I'm in search of comfort. Here's to mothers everywhere who know that gardens can soothe the most troublesome nightmares. Happy Mother's Day!

A Would-Be Oak Grove

2011-05-06T20:54:00.003-04:00

This morning I pulled close to fifteen gallons of sprouted acorns from a friend's yard. Yes, she's sure she doesn't want an oak grove instead of a garden bed (when I saw how thickly the sprouts were filling the space, I asked her to be certain)! The sprouts become woody in stem and root quickly, so I always try to get them as soon as I spot them, while they still make a satisfying "POP" sensation coming out of the ground. The best part about pulling up acorns at this stage is that it's one weed I know for sure will not regrow from any root segments or scattered seeds left behind in the soil.

So I was compelled to absentmindedly yank on a few sprouts in the bed, but before I knew it, I had more than a handful of the weeds. When I looked up, I saw one, two, five. . . nine more sprouts within arm's reach! By the time my friend came out of the house, I had already pulled a large stash of acorn sprouts. My friend was suitably impressed, but why have so many baby oak trees come up in her garden?

Last fall was a mast year for the oaks in this region. This means that the population of oaks in our climate produce near one hundred times more acorns (maple and pine produce an excess of seeds during a mast year) than they usually do. They store surplus energy for years until they are ready to spend it on masting. It's a cunning tactic, one that out-smarts even the squirrels. Increased acorn production allows a large portion of the nuts to go uneaten, and to sprout in the spring. And increased sprouts means more go unseen by gardeners before becoming strong and woody. Another result of the mast, though of little comfort to gardeners, is that the squirrel population is not foiled for long- as it may also grow in response.

Perusing Plants at Society Sales

2011-05-05T07:19:00.002-04:00

Succulent cuttings

A few items will never make it to the garbage after I'm done using them. Books and clothing- if there's a chance that someone will enjoy them as much as I did, why not pass them on? Plants are another one of those things. They're enjoyable to have around and they're living, growing things that will change through the seasons. The ladies in the Natick Garden Club agree with me on this point. Sharing plants from their gardens is important to them, and they hold an annual plant sale to do just this.

This month they are humming and hawing over the perfect selections from their gardens to divide and sell. Talk about hosta varieties, good groundcovers, favourite flowers and plant combinations fills the room quickly when the subject of the upcoming plant auction comes up at their meeting. They look forward to passing on the most beloved pieces of their garden, and delight in sharing hard-earned tips about their plants. Profits from their sale will benefit the garden club, through which they can exchange information and ideas about gardening on a regular basis.

I've always enjoyed perusing society plant sales, a dozen a season, to scout out unusual, sought after, and well cared for plants. If I'm stumped by any of the gems on the table, I can usually locate the plant grower, face poking out behind all the foliage at the back of the table. These enthusiasts have not shown up on a crowded Saturday or Sunday morning, rain or shine, to finagle me into a deal. They may be shy at first, but they are proud of what they've grown, and they want to ensure the best home for their plants. Starting a conversation with a plant grower about their favorite variety always seems to bring them to life. Before long the dialogue becomes animated with mimes of watering, clipping, blossoming, even sighs of relief for a job well done. I come home with arms full of plants, informational leaflets, and contact info from a number of growers, should I have any troubling questions.

After years of enjoying the spring sales from the buyer's side of the table, I finally have the opportunity this season to attend as a grower! No matter which side of the table I end up on, attending these sales has become one of the things that defines my growing season. Here are a few of the society plant sales that I hope to attend in my area this spring (click on the links for more information if you live in the area):

Natick Garden Club Annual Auction
Natick Community Organic Farm Spring Spectacular
Society Row Plant Sale with White Flower Farm presents Tomatomania
Lyman Estate Spring Herb Sale
New England Herb Society's 31st Annual Plant Sale
COGDesign Annual Plant Sale
Boston Natural Areas Network Spring Festival and Perennial Divide

There are numerous other local sales listed in my area at BostonGardens.com. For information on garden clubs around the state, visit The Garden Club Federation of Massachusetts.

Wordless Wednesday: Great Blue Heron

2011-05-04T09:48:00.001-04:00

Unfurling

2011-05-02T22:28:00.002-04:00

Every bud and shoot has a plan. . .

Between spring showers, this plant opens numerous umbrellas.

Inside this enormous bud are a few five-fingered leaves and a panicle of cream-colored flower buds that will eventually turn into chestnuts.

Each hosta shoot unfurls like a scroll of lush green paper.

Some plants are like loyal old friends. It doesn't have to do this (especially since I tend to neglect this one), but out comes the beautiful flower anyway.

After all my trials and tribulations with sunflowers in past seasons, this season I have the birds to thank for dropping the seeds around my garden. Successful so far. . .

Trout lilies emerging in the rain.

The Alder's leaves unfurl like a slow accordion.

The first leaves on the oak leaf hydrangea are fuzzy and not oak shaped at all.

The anthers on the flowers of this Beech tree are still green. These clusters will be Beech nuts by fall!

Famous gardener Penelope Hobhouse called new paeony shoots in spring the "snouts of the garden".

A Corral of Catkins

2011-04-30T10:56:00.001-04:00

Weeping Willow in wind

This group of early spring flowers is quickly fading from our gardens and greenspaces now, but I thought I would corral them up and introduce them before they leave!

Catkins are among the earliest blooming flowers, because (as I mentioned in a previous post, News for the Greenery-Starved Folks) they rely on the wind that comes through bare branches to spread their pollen, instead of relying primarily on insect pollinators that have not yet emerged.

Flowers clustered on the pendant tassels have no petals, and often bear only male organs (anthers with pollen on them), which become highly visible on willow catkins as they open up. Female flowers may become seed-storing cones, as on some Alders, or develop fluffy seeds, as on some aspen.

These are female catkins with seeds developed (male catkins are also produced). Stands of Quaking Aspen trees are often just one organism, with many trunks connected by one root system. On the west coast, it is rare that they make flowers and seeds, as they propagate mainly by root. Here I found the ground littered with these fuzzy catkins.

Many catkin-bearing plants are large trees common to wetland areas or forests, but a handful of them make great garden specimens. Here are a few often sold at nurseries, according to the size of your space:
For small spaces: Garrya elliptica (Silk Tassel Bush), Nettle/ Coleus (Yes, some herbacious plants have catkins too!), Salix gracilistyla (Black Pussy Willow)

The sunlight (and all the rain we've been having) is helping these pussy willows open up.

For medium spaces: Corylus avelana (Common Hazel, which produces attractive hazelnuts), Corylus contorta (Harry Lauder's Walking Stick, which gets both its names from its twisting, contorted growth habit), Betula pendula (Weeping Birch) or Betula pubescens (White/ Downy Birch), Carpinus caroliniana (American Hornbeam)

The Balsam Poplar has fuzzy red catkins and buds that smell like balsam.

For large spaces: Salix babylonica or alba (Weeping Willow), Ostrya virginiana (Easten Hophornbeam, with shaggy bark and fruit that looks like hops), and many more.

These male Alder (Alnus maximowiczii) flowers are waiting with pollen exposed for the wind to cross their path.

Alnus sieboldiana (Japanese Green Alder)

This Hazel Alder (Alnus serrulata) bears male catkins in threesomes alongside threesomes of female flower clusters.

A Common Hazel in the woods bears bright pink, single female flowers to receive pollen from the male catkins below.

Know a Beekeeper, Know Your Bees

2011-04-28T21:36:00.001-04:00

My first beekeeping experience last year was terrifying. Would I try it again? Absolutely. It was a long winter, and getting to know those pollinators up close and personal was a great way for me to dive headfirst into spring. After all, where would I be as a gardener without the assistance of thousands of tiny, striped workers? I will admit that I've been known to shirk them, even (occasionally) duck and take cover when I see them coming. I'm not proud of this impulse, and in fact, it's just plain rude of me to treat them this way when I hardly know them! For these reasons and more, I ended up at Jean Claude Bourrut Lacouture's beekeeping workshop last May.

Jean Claude maintains hives at The Natick Community Organic Farm and The Boston Nature Center, in addition to lending a helping hand whenever he can with swarms of bees nesting in undesirable locations. Just before I attended the spring workshop, he received his seasonal shipment of bees to introduce at The Boston Nature Center's hives. "May is the busiest month with hiving, swarming, staying ahead of an exploding hive population." he says.

Beekeeping enthusiasts observe one segment from a top-bar hive. The bees build honeycomb from a suspended bar of wood, then move on to the next bar and repeat the process.

With the package of bees humming on the table, he described some remarkable traits of this insect to the group. A brood of bees cannot exist without its queen to make progeny and broadcast those mysterious pheremones, so we discussed the best way to introduce her to the hive. If the drones come face to face with their queen before she is able to cast pheremones, she is at risk of being eaten. She must be placed into the hive first, in a special chamber with candy blocking the entries, so that the drones can eat their way in to her over time.

When I ask Jean Claude what fascinates him most about this insect, I get the feeling that he could spend a long time giving me the answer. "Their communication, the role of each caste, each individual, the queen, the hive products... " But despite a multitude of intricacies, his favorite part of maintaining hives is simply the zen feeling of being near the bees. "It brings me closer to Nature, natural cycles, the seasons... "

Bees move from the small box to their new home. Stacks of hives here are painted white to reflect sun and keep cool.

A number of people at the workshop were first-time beekeepers, nervously waiting for their own mail-order shipments of bees. Some had already acquired top-bar style hive boxes, and some intended to build their own. Jean Claude lead us out to see the hives with the parcel of new bees in hand. He gave out a few veils to share amongst the group, and then applied extra pheromones to the hive boxes. The queen's compartment was placed inside, and then. . .the new bees were released. They swarmed through the group of us in all directions, busily looking for their new home. A few of them nuzzled into my hair, and I tried my best to calmly pluck them out. Some of us stood still and some of us moved well out of the way (I think I did a combination of the two) while we waited for them to circle closer and closer toward the hive.

Jean Claude has released his new brood of bees and waits for the last few to locate their new home.

From what I can recall, Jean Claude reached zen space as he observed the bees swarming. He didn't always have this calm demeanor around the hives, though. He recalls being very nervous when he encountered his first hive twenty years ago. It was one of his duties on the farm, and he knew very little about beekeeping at the time. "I learned by reading all and everything I could land my hands on (library was a great resource) and by mistakes." He eventually became comfortable enough to shed most of the beekeeping apparel when handling the bees, though he admits that those first mistakes were "Mistakes that the bees probably paid dearly for."

"There are many ways to start beekeeping and many ways to start wrong," he warns. "It is not a cheap hobby and it has become harder to maintain healthy hives with more and more new honeybee pests and diseases. It is also unfair to the bees who ultimately pay the price of poor management. We can avoid as much of that as possible by not having to reinvent the wheel I had to 'invent' (starting without much knowledge or mentor or classes.) I also use the internet and have read enough that I can recommend good books." But to all the newly-committed beekeepers, those who have been "stung by the bug", he reckons "You too will eventually develop your own approach."

The bees have been successfully introduced to the hive.

When the new bees found their nesting site and crawled in, I couldn't help but feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. This would be their home for the season. There and at the farm, they would pollinate trees, shrubs, fruits and vegetables for a whole season, making food and gardens possible. This year, Jean Claude is repeating the process with another set of workshops at Natick Community Organic Farm and The Boston Nature Center. He has been waiting for the queen bee to be shipped, and she will arrive by this weekend.

Wordless Wednesday: Blossoms

2011-04-27T10:40:00.001-04:00

Easter Maple Candy

2011-04-25T12:01:00.001-04:00

Maple sugaring season may have ended in the first half of April, but the second half of April is a perfect time to drum up new maple recipes and give them a try. For Easter, I made maple candy eggs with this easy recipe:

1 1/2 cups pure maple syrup
1/2 cup butter

It was a good year for sugaring at NCOF. Volunteers collected over 8000 gallons of sap from donated sugar maples, which was boiled into over 200 gallons of maple syrup!

You'll also need:
-A candy thermometer
-A deviled-eggs serving tray or other candy mold (see picture)
-Parchment paper

Candy thermometer and (Easter-themed)deviled-egg serving tray, both available at kitchen supply stores.

Pour the maple syrup into a medium-size, heavy-bottom pot. Attach the candy thermometer to the pot so that it will read the temperature of the syrup. Add butter put on medium-high heat until the temperature reaches 240 degrees F. (It will be boiling rapidly.)

Pour the 240 degree mixture into a pan with high sides, like a bread pan, to cool. In the meantime, cut out parchment paper to match the size and shape of each candy mold, then place the paper on the molds. When the syrup mixture has cooled to 110 degrees F, stir it rapidly. The color should be lighter and the consistency should be slightly plasticy.

After stirring, quickly fill each candy mold on top of the parchment paper with the syrup mixture. When it has cooled completely (about 10-15 min), remove the candy from the molds and enjoy!

Note: If you don't want all the fuss making of egg-shaped candy, but still want an Easter treat, you may also pour the syrup mixture when it is 110 degrees into a brownie pan lined with parchment paper and cut it into small 1/2" squares.

Earth Day Reflections

2011-04-23T15:18:00.002-04:00

brand new radish sprouts

"Working with the soil doesn't automatically endow a man with either wisdom or philosophy, but it does make him aware of orderly sequences such as night and day, summer and winter, bud, blossom, and seed. And of such certainties as life, death, and change. Knowing these things, a man can live with himself and probably get along with his neighbors." --Hal Borland, nature writer, 1900-1978

It's not easy to sum up my sentiments on Earth Day. Like everyone else, I have a complicated relationship with the earth. Here in New England, bare ground has been veiled by snow in recent months, making my connection to the earth more obscured. When the snow retreats and the ground warms, I am eager to make that most simple connection again of skin to soil. This connection is primary to my sentiments on Earth Day, and indeed, it's the reason I'm making this post a day late. (I've been busy tilling earth, filling containers with it, washing it off of spring edibles and out of my clothes!)

Today there were others digging alongside me who were also keen to get their hands dirty. In the pouring rain, we worked to prepare the beds of a public garden for spring planting. Some of them had driven more than thirty miles to show up. Talk about compost, farmer's markets, energy conservation and volunteer work drifted in and out. I couldn't help but contrast this with other rainy days I've spent working in the same garden, when both words and working hands were few. The overall energy was positive despite the weather, and the drive to "get some work done" was palpable.

Because of Earth Day, conversations and activities that would normally be quite heavy were raised and spread amongst everyone. Most importantly, people who had never before thought of themselves as activists were taking part in the very activity that has moved some of the most influential activists of our time. Henry David Thoreau, David Attenborough, Micheal Pollan, and countless others made direct contact with the earth (observing soil, fauna, and growth), which sparked meaningful dialogues about our relationship with the planet. These are the kind of dialogues that resonate and move me to work with the soil time after time.

A few other garden bloggers, like The Sage Butterfly, are sharing three books that have influenced their views on sustainable living for Earth Day. Here are my top picks (and as I have already mentioned Henry David Thoreau, David Attenborough and Micheal Pollan, I will try not to allude to their major influence on me again):

1) The Sense of Wonder by Rachel Carson. It may not be a heavy-hitter like Silent Spring, which has spoken to the sharpest minds of the last half-century. Rachel Carson speaks to the spirit this time. It has particular relevance to anyone who can remember discovering nature as a child, or wishes to pass on some of what they've discovered about nature to future generations.
2) A Field Guide to the Familiar by Gale Lawrence. If Mother Nature herself needed a lawyer, Lawrence could defend her with ease. While she emphasizes answers to the most obvious, riddling questions we all have about the flora, fauna and natural phenomena in New England (Why do so many skunks end up as roadkill? What kind of beetle keeps thudding against the screen-door in summer? Does ragweed have any redeeming traits? How do I pick out the seasonal constellations? Where do Christmas cacti come from? How do rainbows work?)she also reveals the hidden patterns that make each one resilient, unique, and connected to us. No matter how little or how much I had been exposed to these things before reading, I was inspired to look closer in every case, often coming to respect even the most unsavory creatures just a bit more.
3)Keeping a Nature Journal by Clare Walker Leslie. Keeping a Nature Journal offered one more way, with hundreds of samples and activities, to cram more nature into my life. But there was a catch: I had to slow down. Waaay down. Instead of observing the natural world strictly in terms of education, business, recreation, or design, I began to take it all in just for the purposes of observing. I noticed that flies and bumble bees were not only collecting pollen from the flowers- they were clinging on tightly when the wind picked up, and hiding from rain under the petals. And the reason why there were so many starlings on my client's lawn is that they were sharing a meal of grubs, who in turn reside underneath the grass and feed on its roots. After observing this way, I hope to be more understanding of those kids I teach that are poised with hand lenses and notebooks, pencils and sample boxes. I want them to get the full picture too!

Tangy, Fibrous and Slightly Sweet

2011-04-18T19:14:00.003-04:00

The leaves on this Japanese Knotweed are just beginning to unfurl.

If you've ever gardened on the margins of a boggy area, major roadway or forest, chances are you've come across this infamous weed. It grows in large, dense stands of hollow stalks which somewhat resemble bamboo, and can reach up to 10 feet in height.

The first time I saw it, I'll admit, I was somewhat taken with what seemed to be a wonderfully elegant perennial. It's leaves were large green hearts, it's blossoms were held in pendant, creamy sprays at the tip of each stalk, and the stalks curved ever so slightly with the weight of the blossoms. In the forest garden where they stood, next to black bamboo and framing the ocean just so, it seemed as though they had been planted with an expert eye. I marveled at how I had never noticed them there, and how it was almost as if they had appeared out of nowhere. It wasn't long before I started noticing the same creamy sprays of flowers in a lot of other places, even on roadsides. I thought it must be a really popular plant, and was surprised that I hadn't already known about it. The nurseries I frequented didn't sell it, though I thought they should. How wrong I was.

It came upon me how wrong I was while I was listening to CBC radio one day as I weeded the garden (a staple for many Canadians who work with their hands, I think). I was listening very closely as the votes were coming in for Canada's most invasive weeds. Listener after listener called in to tell stories about weeds growing through pavement, weeds resisting all kinds of sharp tools, and weeds that have caused tough gardeners to ultimately surrender. As I listened, I realized many of the callers voted for a weed that was a dead ringer for the "elegant perennial" I had noticed. It was commonly called Japanese Knotweed, and it came out on top as Canada's most hated weed that day, over crabgrass, thistle and dandelions.

Needless to say, I began chipping away at that patch of knotweed in the woods, but my efforts to dig it up were only matched by the speediness of the smallest rhizomes to put on a spurt of growth. Japanese Knotweed (Polygonum cuspidatum) is tolerant of most any soil or growing conditions. It grows fast, and can colonize abandoned spaces and fragile ecosystems alike. Since its introduction to the United States as an ornamental plant in 1910, it has made its way out of cultivation and onto invasive species lists of many states. My attitude toward the plant has changed in the same way.

I guess that's how I ended up with the asparagus-like weed on my dinner plate last night. After conversations with friends who had eaten the plant, plus a little bit of research, I was relishing the thought of snipping back tender new shoots and cooking them up! The patch where I foraged them is just beginning to sprout green shoots here and there, and the shoots are already starting to grow leaves. The shoots are most tender and flavorful before leaves come out, so I made sure to cut the youngest ones I could find.

Seeing as the stalks resembled asparagus so much in the way they looked, I steamed them to serve with fresh pasta, trout and peas. To my surprise, the taste was not at all like asparagus. They're the most similar thing to rhubarb I've ever tasted. They're tangy, fibrous, and slightly sweet, and the leftovers I have would be a great addition to quickbread or muffins. (New England wild edibles guru Russ Cohen recommends combining them with seasonal strawberries to make pie, and The Three Foragers tried using it to make wine.) Eating this weed is all in all a pleasant experience. Not only is knotweed pleasant to taste, but it's chalk-full of resveratrol, the antioxidant in grapes and wine that is becoming quite favorable. (For this reason, the knotweed is now being cultivated in China.)

Other invasive species I'd like to relish this season? Yes, plenty! I've got my eye out for garlic mustard, dandelion greens, European barberries, ramp, chickweed, and any other delectable edibles that dare to cross me.

April Blooms Day

2011-04-15T18:08:00.004-04:00

This is my first month to join handfuls of other garden bloggers across the globe at posting pics of what's blooming in my area. (For a list of over 100 bloggers participating today, visit http://www.maydreamsgardens.com/) I've decided to add a twist and post wild plants as well as cultivated ones. I think you'll be able to guess which are which. In addition to the blooms pictured, I spied hyacinths, daffodils, tulips, periwinkle, and phlox. A lot of my bulbs are in a bed that was piled with an 8ft snowbank from all the blizzards we had earlier this year, so the flowers are slower to show buds there.

These Acer (Maple) buds will open to show yellow anthers soon.

Ranunculus ficaria (Lesser Celandine) is an early blooming, European buttercup that thrives in moist, sunny areas with rich soil.

This Common Hazel has separate male and female flowers. The pinkish, single female flower is borne above several catkins packed with pollen-bearing male flowers.

Our Symplocarpus foetidus (Eastern Skunk Cabbage) performs a special gas exchange to warm the surrounding air and melt the snow as it emerges. The mottled, part seen here is the spathe, which protects the actual flowers inside.

Here's a white form of the common blue violet Viola sororia.

Even Pachysandra is in bloom!

A Trillium surrounded by nicely naturalized Scilla waits to open.

Here's a hellebore that will stand up straight for a picture!

From pussy willow to beautiful magnolia flower. . .

An early-blooming rhododendron- most likely an azalea-type.

Helleborus argutifolium has charming chartreuse blooms.

Pulmonaria saccharata (Lungwort) is one of my faves, but I grow it mainly for the polka-dot foliage. It was called "Lungwort" in the Middle Ages for its reputation in healing lung ailments. The custom was to add the suffix "wort" to plants that were helpful in some way, and "bane" to plants that were harmful.

I love the wide-open shape of Anemone, and the purple stamens.

Erica is the earlier-blooming of the two most common forms of heather.

Forsythia is a billboard advertisement to pollinators this time of year!

Viburnum bodnantese bears clusters of pink flowers against reddish-brown twigs.

These tassels of bell shaped flowers belong to Pieris (Lily of the Valley bush)

Magnolia stellata (Star/ Feather Magnolia) is a great tree for small gardens.

I've recently had the privilege of being accepted by a few blog networks. Although I knew about Blooms Day before I joined Blotanical, a network of garden blogs http://www.blotanical.com/index.php, it's a perfect example of one of the many perks in communing with other gardeners there. How else would I have connected with another alumni from my hort college, an Italian flower gardener willing to mentor me, and a gardener as crazy about planting vegetable scraps as I am?? Gardeners without blogs can join too. You may not find familiar blogs right away, but you'll stumble on some great new blogs to explore. I'm looking forward to having ongoing connections there. Happy blooms day to all blog-following gardeners!

Nature's Weed Eaters

2011-04-14T12:58:00.001-04:00

The newest addition to the animals at Natick Community Organic Farm came two days ago, in the mail. These chicks will be housed under heat lamps in one of the barn stalls for a few weeks. I'll be feeding them weeds with the kids in my gardening classes, and we'll watch them grow. Public is also welcome to come and visit them there. Soon, they'll be let into an outdoor pen to forage for themselves. There are oodles of other baby animals to visit on the farm right now, including lambs, goat kids, piglets and rabbits.

Seeds are Already Fantastic!

2011-04-14T10:55:00.002-04:00

Am I being persnickety, or do these cartoons on seed packets seem out of place?

Anyone who's ever helped a child plant seeds knows that this kind of marketing is not necessary. The only fantasy on the child's mind as they choose the seeds, prepare the soil, sow, and water is that these tiny brown specks will change into something wonderful. Green shoots break through the soil surface and those fantasies are animated in real life, as a result of their hard work. I've witnessed many children excitedly dream aloud about what might happen next. It's a moment when less tangible fantasies of becoming a princess or having a lavish car are forgotten. The child isn't worrying about categories like brown, blue, boy or girl because real innocence has kicked in (not to be mistaken for the imitation innocence that's fostered in some of these images). Nature can spark imagination without any need for conventional fantasies imposed by others. Perhaps that's why so many of us return to the garden as adults to wait in lively anticipation for the seeds that we sowed to grow tall. What do you think?

Across the aisle from the seed packets, I found fantastic Phaleonopsis in living color. No cartoons necessary here!

Twigs on Fire

2011-04-13T15:47:00.001-04:00

Salix x Flame (Willow )

Cornus sericea 'Ivory Halo' (Redosier Dogwood)

Some willow and dogwood species are extra visible from far across the landscape this time of year. In early spring, as sun warms the twigs, their color becomes fiery bright. It’s no coincidence the same hues can be seen in tree foliage just before the leaves fall in autumn. When chlorophyll drains from leaves before they fall, a chemical called xanthophyll is left behind in the chloroplasts. Normally masked by the green hue of chlorophyll, the xanthophyll’s yellow or red hue is left showing. Xanthopyll can collect some sunlight like chlorophyll does, but its main purpose is to protect the chlorophyll from oxidation throughout photosynthesis. It is xanthophyll that also makes the twigs of dogwood and willow appear so bright and colorful. Branches that are younger or exposed to direct sunlight will have stronger hues. Gain more color from an older, multistemmed Salix alba or Cornus stolonifera by cutting back a few branches to the ground this spring and letting a new flush of young twigs grow.

Unexpected Visitor at Arnold Arboretum

2011-04-12T17:44:00.002-04:00

Every year I look forward to finding something brand new at the Arnold Arboretum in Jamaica Plain. As one of the school program guides there, I am attuned to changes in the landscape, and hear many questions about them from children that visit. Questions like what's inside that flower, who does that feather belong to, how old is that tree, and even where did all the salamanders go are all fairly straightforward for me to answer. After all, as program guides, we connect all these random elements of the ecosystem and place them in a food web for the children. But what happens when something exceptionally random falls out of a tree as you are teaching about that web? Guides on Hemlock Hill yesterday were faced with that puzzle as this unexpected omnivore appeared during a lesson about the ecosystem, then scurried back up into the trees overhead. Virginia Opposums like this one are omnivores, but mainly live on carrion. There is still speculation about how this particular marsupial could subsist in the park. Whatever the case, everyone who observed it yesterday will be likely to keep their eyes peeled for new sights and sounds in the landscape for months to come.

A Fresh Season at Mass Hort

2011-04-12T12:23:00.001-04:00

Elm Bank's garden curator shows the grounds to this year's crop of volunteers.

It's been a couple of years since I last volunteered for the Mass Hort. At the time, the 182-year-old horticulture society was going through major upheavals. They were paring down to bare essentials in order to sustain their Elm Bank gardens and gift shop in Wellesley, ongoing plant trials for seed companies, Boston's annual flower show, and a parcel of land on the Rose Kennedy Greenway in Boston- not to mention valuable staff, volunteers and members. I volunteered in the greenhouses, tending to the large volume of seedlings that would add color to every thing Mass Hort touched. Operations continued successfully on the surface, but there was a great deal of uncertainty at every turn.
When I returned to Elm Bank on Saturday, I was greeted by a number of other volunteers, new and old, waiting for an orientation tour of this year's projects. As we followed the curator around the grounds, it didn't take long for me to realize that the uncertainty I remembered had been replaced by a new energy. Teams of people dedicated to tending each garden had been recently formed. Goals were determined for areas like the vegetable plots, the historic Olmstead garden and the picnic area, which had previously sat neglected on the periphery. I was given a host of new contacts who could help me find the most suitable tasks and projects. This new energy seemed familiar to me. It was part hope, part dream, and part resolution to get some work done. . . not at all unlike the feeling I get when I step out into my own small plot. This is a feeling I can dig to!

The Blooms of Lyman Estate

2011-04-11T12:31:00.001-04:00

Paphiopedium Lady Slipper Orchid

Phaleonopsis orchid

Lyman Estate Greenhouses in Waltham hosted the annual spring orchid sale this weekend. Varieties included hard to find cattleyas, laelias, paphiopedilums, as well as favorites like phaleonopsis, all grown by the orchid society. I liked the paphiopedilums most, with their fuzzy lady slipper pouches.

Bougainvillea butteana

The orchids were not the only flowers bursting forth. In the next room, a lime tree shed its withering blossoms as it began to fruit. Jasmine and crown of thorns were wide open, as well as French lavender and bleeding heart vine. Perhaps the most signature plant of the estate is the old bougainvillea vine that spans the glass ceiling, which was flushed with deep pink bracts. Even on the way back to the car, I spotted magnolias and violets unfurling in the field. I'll look forward to retuning to Lyman for their annual herb sale in May.

Crown of Thorns

Reasons to Love a Pansy

2011-04-11T11:07:00.001-04:00

The sweet smell of pansies filled my car this weekend as I brought home the first new plants for my garden! Though I'm usually one of those gardeners to give annual bedding plants the cold shoulder, I make an exception for pansies. When I see them at the nursery I remember walking past them as a little girl in the cool, damp spring of North Vancouver. Pansies are often mistaken for being a most delicate, fair weather flower, but this is far from the truth. Unpredictable weather will make even the greatest gardeners antsy, but pansies withstand the whole spectrum of frost, warm snaps, prolonged rain showers, even snow that early spring brings. After they've given me many weeks of steadfast color and the summer heat is coming on, I'll use the edible petals to liven up my salad. I succumbed to them again this year and planted a colorful patch underneath the dogwood tree next to the sidewalk. As I was planting, I heard a gasp behind me. It was the little girl from upstairs walking by. Though English is her second language, she managed to remark "Wonderful!" at the flowers. Another pansy lover! And even more pansy fans, members of the Natick Garden Club, decorated downtown Natick with baskets of the flowers this weekend.

News for the Greenery-Starved Folks

2011-04-07T22:02:00.000-04:00

Buds are beginning to break, and I’m hungry for the return of lush foliage- if only to enjoy it momentarily as I scuttle from building to building in the cold. But on days like today, when it’s warm enough for me anxiously go and check on the progress of budding branches, I realize that many things I can observe amongst the trees right now may soon be hidden from view or vanish altogether once the leaves grow. Here are seven things that will only be in plain sight while the branches are still bare:

Red-tailed hawks are beginning to pair up.

The lay of the land. Now is a good time for ramblers like me to get familiar with new routes for hiking, walking, biking or running. I can see rocky ledges, tiny streams, stands of white birch or beech trees, vernal pools and other landmarks that could all become easily obscured by low branches and undergrowth. These things break up the landscape into recognizable chunks that I’ll enjoy coming back to all the more when I can remember how to get there.

The tapping of woodpeckers is harder to hear and to see when leaves are out.

Seasonal bird behavior. The migratory birds are back, and they’re full of activity. They’re looking for food, establishing territory and trying to find mates. Much of this activity happens in the shrubbery or the treetops, where it can be virtually impossible to get a clear view in the summertime. Over the past few days, I’ve heard the tapping of woodpeckers quite frequently. It’s easy to spot their black, white and red feathers from far away on large hollow trunks. Although the woodpeckers are year-round residents here, males are now establishing territory from one another with tapping sounds.

Other wildlife and garden visitors. These same large old trees with some hollow trunks are home to screech owls, which have been known to occasionally come out during the day and sun themselves through the bare branches as the weather gets warmer. I can still see large leaf middens hanging from treetop branches. Squirrels built these middens last fall to store extras from the year’s massive acorn collection and to keep warm. Raccoons, snakes, and other animals that have also relied on dens throughout the winter are now emerging and searching for food. Perhaps the most reassuring thing of all to see moving about among the bare branches is the mourning cloak butterfly, newly emerged from hibernation.

It's easier now to track squirrels as they nibble on favorite shoots and check on their middens..

Witch Hazel is the earliest bare-branch bloom.

Catkins. Trees that bear these long tassels rely on there being a minimum of foliage this time of year. Each catkin is packed with many tiny flowers, which need the wind that comes through bare branches in order to broadcast their pollen, since most pollinating insects have not emerged yet. They don’t have petals, but I can always spot their swaying movement and bright yellow pollen from afar.

Redbud trees sport pink blossoms on bare trunks.

More flowers that bloom on bare branches. Many other shrubs and trees bear blossoms before leafing out, and these are a beautiful sight. Witch hazel, forsythia, flowering quince, apricot trees, and star magnolia are a few of the earliest bloomers.

The bare branches themselves. Although they’ve been there, brown, overhead and in the periphery all winter, the bare branches are changing ever so slightly. Buds are becoming longer, more prominent and easier to differentiate from species to species now. This gives the branches unique form from one another, even at long distance against the sky. Closer up, the pattern of the buds makes it clear which direction branches grow from year to year.

One of my favorite sheltered spots to let the sun shine in!

Sunlight. As much as I long to be outside during the winter months, New England weather has a way of ensuring everyone stays tucked inside at home sometimes. Even on the clear days when it’s not snowing and the sun is shining, there is still ice, wind, and cold temperatures to contend with. When it’s just warm enough to shed a layer or two and sit sheltered by trees as the sunlight comes through, I begin to welcome back all the splendors of spring, one by one.

The Eager Gardener

2011-04-04T12:04:00.001-04:00

Galanthus nivalis Snowdrops

Every spring, when the bulky snowdrifts are replaced by emergent snowdrop flowers, eager gardeners experience something reminiscent of a second New Year. As an eager gardener myself, I can vouch that we may smile goofily for no apparent reason, flaunt numerous macro pictures to friends and family of what appears to be last season's leaf litter, place any magnitude of online orders for new outdoor accoutrements, spend entire evenings bundled up at the edge of the yard with our measuring tape, or lose our train of thought just looking out the window. We're thinking about the growing season to come, balking at the possibilities that arrive the moment after our shovel breaks the freshly-thawed soil again.

Lists of chores, lists of projects, and ever-present lists of enticing new plants are running through all of our heads. On the top of my project list every year, I am taunted by a resolution to begin my own garden blog. I make a play at joining the league of garden bloggers I've adored for years, but I never seem to get there before I have dirt under my fingernails and one hundred seedlings to determine the fate of. This year, I finally joined the blogosphere! Did I get here before I observed the first green shoots, attended multiple horticulture shows, or returned to my favorite hiking trails? Nope. There's been a lot to blog about already. But now I know for sure it's going to be another wonderful growing year, one that I want to record.