This, That, the Other

Time for a random selection of photos! ;o)

I thought the cardinals had finally abandoned the beginnings of their nest in the rose arbor (right by the gate), but another two or three days later, I noticed that it had gotten better-developed.  I took this photo in the morning, and by the late afternoon, it was even more well-defined.  I'll have to take another photo to show how neatly they've constructed it.   (It's amazing what they can make using just their beaks!)

Actually, I've just read that cardinals tend to finish off their nests with "bent grass, wrought in a circular form", and that perfectly describes what "our" cardinals have done.  I guess the nest is done!

I still feel doubtful that they're going to like that spot, but maybe they don't mind close neighbors.

The fall before last, I gathered some seeds from the wild mistflower growing down at Grandpa's pond.  They grew and came back again this spring (still in their pots...).  I think this is wild/hardy ageratum (Conoclinium coelestinum), which is a native perennial that some gardeners find an eager spreader in need of a firm hand or careful placement.  (Ok, many are actually less polite and say this is an aggressive plant that can become an absolute pest.  You've been warned!)  

I wanted to grow it for the late summer/autumn flowers (fuzzy, lavender), but last summer I noticed something else interesting about this plant (which is also known as "boneset"): whenever I was standing near the potted mistflower, I got a whiff of a wonderful "mystery scent" that I'd noticed many times before, down at the pond.  The fragrance is difficult to describe, but it reminds me (pleasantly!) of sweet pipe tobacco/smoke.

When I lean in close to the plant for a sniff, it's elusive.  Rubbing the leaves between two fingers doesn't help, either; the scent evoked by friction is more "generic green" than "mysterious-wonderful, spicy-sweet".  However, I'm convinced that Mystery Fragrance does come from this plant.  When I moved it to the covered patio, I noticed that the scent followed-- and when Mom stopped by the other day, she noticed and remarked on the pleasant smell, too.  (She said it reminded her of the mountains.)

The strange thing is that I haven't been able to find much online commentary on the fragrance of this plant!  I just can't understand that, because I find it such a very pleasant scent-- and since it's evidently the foliage that smells so nice, you get to enjoy it much longer than you would an aromatic bloom.

So far, I've only found one other blog with a post specifically mentioning the fragrance aspect of mistflowers-- but it opens up a whole new can of worms.  Apparently there are a number of types of mistflower.  Maybe this one isn't what I think it is!  Hmm...

We've been having some slightly foggy, misty mornings, which highlight all the spider webs.

{orchard orbweaver}

This one in a crepe myrtle was an interesting shape-- like a bowl made of spider web.  Looking it up, I believe this is a "bowl and doily" spider web.

There's the bowl on top, obviously, and the lighter web underneath is the "doily".

(I find this a particularly amusing name, since I enjoy crocheting doilies-- an old-fashioned hobby, by some estimations, but it's fun!  Crocheting doilies can be either relaxing or engrossing, depending on the complexity of the pattern.)

One of the two "money plants" is blooming!  The flowers are a pretty purple (despite the name, 'Corfu Blue').  I'm excited to see if it will set seed, because the unusual seed pods are the real appeal of this plant.

One of our daylilies has what I would describe as a "fused" scape.  It looks like two stems that somehow grew fused together into a flattened, extra-wide stem.  Apparently the correct term for this is "fasciated scape".

It's strange-looking... Fasciated scapes on daylilies (from the little I've read) seems to be not especially common, but not exactly rare, either, and it isn't supposed to be likely to occur reliably year after year on the same plant.

The strawberry geraniums under the large loropetalum are doing well at the moment.  I think they might always be happiest in spring, then tend to fall back a bit when the heat sets in.  I'd like to see these spread out and fill in the blanks around the whole area, eventually.

The more things change, the more they stay the same. ;o)  I've planted out the last of last year's daylily seedlings, but as fast as I could plant them, I was refilling the pots with this year's seedlings (which had been in tiny yogurt cups)-- so it doesn't look like I've done much of anything beyond shifting some pots from one spot to another.

'Purple Smoke' false indigo is blooming.

It's pretty, but it's never gotten as big as I expected.  Maybe it would benefit from fertilizer.  (That's one of many jobs on The List-- fertilizing the flower beds.

The butterfly weed is starting to flower!  Only now that it's blooming, I realize that it must be tropical milkweed (Asclepias curassavica) rather than common butterfly weed (Asclepias tuberosa).

Tropical milkweed may or may not be reliably cold-hardy here (opinions seem to vary), but apparently it is easy to gather seeds and start them every year-- or you can pot up the plant and keep it indoors over the winter.

Remember when I was talking about how dark the leaves of the Black Diamond crepe myrtles were?  Here's photographic proof:

Some of our tomatoes have started setting fruit!  We've also planted a few squash, but they're sulking after being transplanted.  With luck, they'll finally settle in and start growing.

The honeysuckle growing on our back fence is invasive, but it sure does smell nice.  As long as it stays on the fence, I'm glad to have some not too far away.  (I'd never plant this type in the yard, though.)

Some of the recently transplanted giant plume ginger are flowering.  I guess moving didn't bother them that much, after all.

The 'Tea Cup' elephant ears seem alright for now, but I'm keeping a close eye on them.

Look at this tiniest-elephant-ear-ever!

The "pointier" elephant ear from Granpa's garden is adjusting well, too.

And finally, here are some pots of purple coneflower seedlings that need to be either thinned (which I hate doing) or planted.  I'm not sure how well they'll react to planting, at such a small size, but it's worth a try.  These were freebie plants from homegrown seeds, so it's worth a gamble.

So far, so sign of growth from the 'Autumn Sun' rudbeckia seeds I harvested and planted.  I wonder if they need stratification to germinate... Next year, I'll try to remember to winter sow some in milk jugs-- and maybe put some in the fridge for the winter.  I'd like to see that plant multiply!

TOM-a-Toes and Urbs

You may say toe-MAY-toe, and your friend may say toe-MAH-toe, but when I'm feeling silly, I like to call them TOM-a-toes.  ;o)

We planted some tomatoes and herbs, over the past couple of days.  This year, the tomatoes are 'Early Girl', 'Celebrity', 'Grape', 'Sweet 100', and 'Rapunzel'.  We tend to have better luck with smaller and/or early tomatoes, which ripen before the heat and pests are at their worst.

(It's a struggle to get tomatoes to live long in our miserable summers.  It is possible to put in a second round of plants, later in the year, for a late-season crop, but we haven't tried it, yet.  I took cuttings of our tomato plants, last summer, and they were doing pretty well until right near the time to plant them, when I discovered a tomato horn worm infestation too late to save them.)

In addition to the tomatoes, we got one each of fernleaf dill and onion chives, which we're trying in terra-cotta pots near the back patio, where we can harvest it more easily.  I've also sown seeds (which may be too old to do much) of mammoth dill and new seeds of onion chives (the more chives the merrier), bunching onions, and dark opal basil.

{onion chives}

{fernleaf dill}

It might be too late for some of the seeds, but oh well-- they were already purchased, so at least I'm giving them a try!  I'm a better flower gardener than vegetable gardener... I think it's partly that I just care more about the decorative plants. The fact that the vegetables are guaranteed to die in the heat of summer makes it harder for me to want to lavish attention on them.  Plus, vegetables attract so many disgusting bugs, which makes me want to stay away from them.  (I can come up with more reasons/excuses, if you'd like. (g))

Anyway, to get back to the dark opal basil, I've read conflicting reports on whether or not it will stay dark-foliaged in heat, but according to some Southern gardeners, it has significant ornamental appeal, as well as being edible-- and its natural oils may repel tomato hornworms, mites, and aphids.  If I have luck with the seeds, I'll try to put some by the tomatoes and some to fill in gaps in the perennials beds.  (I do love interesting foliage!)  It is fragrant, and if you let it go to flower (by not picking off the flower buds), they are a purply pink.  The flowers have some visual value, but most people growing basil for cooking remove the buds to prolong the life of the plant and to direct more energy into growing leaves.

{basil seedtrays}

Apparently, cuttings root easily in water, which is good to know.  Even if I only get one or two plants from seed, I can propagate by cuttings.  (Making new plants from cuttings is one of the most fun/exciting/amazing things to do in the garden, imho.)

As for flavor, dark opal basil is described as "milder than sweet basil, with hints of cinnamon, anise, mint, and clove".  (I have a hard time imagining how that would taste.  I don't know that I've ever eaten much fresh basil... We usually just used dried.  Not exactly bon vivants, either of us. ;o))  It can be used to accent salads and other uncooked dishes.  (I'm no expert, but I can't see why you couldn't use it in cooked dishes, too.  Maybe the milder flavor would be more likely to get lost when it's cooked...)

At some point, I intend to plant some yellow crookneck squash-- probably the sooner the better-- but I don't know if we'll plant any other edibles, this spring.  We considered peppers, because they've done well for us in the past, but I'm the only one who'd be eating them, and I don't eat that many peppers, really...  Okra's the same story.  I haven't had the best luck in the past, but I think I can grow it; however, Donald doesn't eat it, and I don't want tons of it, myself.  If I can figure out when to plant them, there are cool-season vegetables that might be more worthwhile.  I'm sure I'll find more than enough outdoor projects to fill the summer, without the addition of more vegetables to keep alive.

Freeze Warning!

After an early beginning of spring, we had a freeze warning, earlier this week.  For the two coldest nights, I covered select plants (those I thought were most likely to suffer from the cold/plants I most wanted to protect from a set-back) with sheets and inverted plastic nursery pots.  The daylily seedlings and most of the succulents went into the garage overnight.  I'm not sure how cold it actually got (still no new external thermometer), but I suspect that it might not have reached freezing.

I'm hopeful that we won't have any more freezing temperatures, this season, now that the plants are getting further along in their spring wake-up.

The first evening that was supposed to be near freezing, I took a few photos of plants, just in case they were bitten back by the cold.  As it turns out, I don't think many things were damaged, but there's no reason not to post those photos now...

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The 'Peggy Martin' rose is steadily opening more and more flowers.  The leaves are pretty spotty, unfortunately, but the flowers are pretty-- and from a distance, you don't see the spotted leaves so much...

The 'Joseph's Coat' rose on the other side of the arbor still isn't looking that healthy.  I'm tempted to cut it back, dig it up, move it elsewhere, and start over with something else, in this location-- but I'll probably give it another growing season to redeem itself.  (And it will give me time to think about what else would be good to grow here, if not that particular rose...)

I believe this must be the 'Fireflame' clematis, because though the color isn't as bright as it has been in the past, the stamens aren't the right color for it to be 'Pink Climador', which is the other clematis I planted on that side of the arbor...  Maybe the earliness of the bloom made it paler than usual.

The white clematis have been blooming-- not as prolifically as in some years.  Still beautiful, though.

The mountain laurel has buds...

Pineapple lilies (Eucomis comosa) are beginning to emerge.  This might be 'Twinkle Stars', based on the purple foliage.  I didn't realize that clump of daylilies was quite so close, when I planted the eucomis bulb, so I will probably go back and carefully dig up the daylilies, which can find a home elsewhere in the garden.  (Oh, and the purple foliage in the foreground is purple heart.)

I've been surprised by how early the gingers have come up, this year.  This is variegated shell ginger (Alpina zerumbet 'Variegata').  Butterfly ginger has been up for a while, now, including the one named variety I have-- 'Elizabeth'.  My tiny bit of orange bottlebrush ginger lily (Hedychium aurantiacum) has also recently sent up its first shoot of the year.  It stayed in a pot over the winter, so I'll have to find a permanent home for it soon...

And here's some pincushion ginger (Hedychium thyrsiforme).  The only ones not yet showing signs of life are Curcuma elata and Curcuma 'Scarlet Fever'-- and if they were up in early March, I would be stunned.

The Confederate rose in the backyard has kept all its new spring leaves, but the tiny piece in the front lost them.  I think the one in the back is benefiting from the shelter of the shed to its north.  Of course, its location also comes with a potential problem-- restricted sunlight.

More and more of the spring starflowers are showing up, now.  'Jessie' was the first to emerge (see an earlier post).  Then came some that I think are 'Rolf Fiedler':

Next came the species, Ipheion uniflorum (in the photo below)-- and just today I noticed some that are closer to white that I think might be 'White Star' (not pictured).  I'll have to give them a closer look to decide if they're pure white or a paler iteration of the species, which can vary quite a bit.  (I'm pretty sure they're white, though.)

I'll also have to get down on my knees and give them a sniff to see if I can detect the violet-like fragrance they're supposed to have.  I sniffed one of the very first ones and didn't notice much, but maybe I'll have better luck if I try again.

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The threat of killing frost put a damper on my gardening mood, so I haven't done much outside in the past several days (beyond protecting plants), but now that the danger is past (or at least that particular cold snap is over), I'm getting more excited about gardening, again, and I hope to do more mulching and weeding in the coming week or two.  There are also things needing transplanting and bigger projects to work on-- and more seeds to start, when it's warm enough.  (When is it warm enough?)

Ah, and we bought some tomatoes and an herb or two to go in the vegetable beds, which we weeded (as best we could) last weekend.  Maybe we will get them in the ground before the end of this weekend!

A Little This, A Little That

There was a patch of monkey grass around the circle stone bed that had become overrun with the dreaded torpedo grass (Panicum repens).  Last year, I made a half-hearted attempt at treating just the torpedo grass with RoundUp, but it was time-consuming and doesn't seem to have made much difference (probably at least in part because I found it so difficult and didn't do a very good job of it or provide follow-up treatments).

This year, the horrible weed was taking over, so I dug out the monkey grass (and any areas of torpedo grass in the neighboring flowerbed areas), picked out as much of the torpedo grass roots as I could find, and thinned the monkey grass before replanting.

I'm sure I didn't get all the torpedo grass, but it should make a difference for a while, at least...  As a bonus, since I divided the monkey grass, I ended up with enough to start edging another flower bed.  The curve looks a little crooked and inelegant in the photo below, but I've since adjusted it.  It might need even more adjustment, later, but at the time, I was satisfied just to get the stuff back in the ground.  Hot, tiring work!

Here's the circle stone bed.
I didn't make it all the way around the circle, so I'll eventually go back and continue dividing the monkey grass.  Also, I need to work on moving some more stones and spraying some annoying weeds that keep popping up in the stones.  (I pull the weeds, but it's just not enough...)

Ugh.  That torpedo grass is the bane of my gardening existence!  Really tough stuff.  Reading about it online is depressing, too.  It sounds like it's all but impossible to completely eradicate, unless you want to kill your whole lawn and start from scratch.  I'm really not a lawn fanatic (as anyone who has seen our lawn will know), so I don't care that much about weeds in the lawn-- except that weeds in the lawn tend to creep and seed into my flowerbeds.  That I do care about...

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On a happier topic, I was surprised, recently, to see that some more of the seeds from Nan Ondra's seed give-away (last autumn) had sprouted.  I'd all but given up hope on these.  They're pineapple lily seedlings.  Eucomis comosa ex 'Oakhurst' and 'Sparkling Burgundy'-- which means that they're a little unpredictable-- a hybrid of 'Oakhurst' and 'Sparking Burgundy'.  I'm sure they'll be beautiful plants, if I can nurse them to maturity.  That can take a while, though.  Depending on which source you trust, it can take anywhere from three to five years for seed-grown Eucomis to bloom.  

It just so happens that the pineapple lily seedlings popped up right about the time that I added pineapple lily bulbs to my garden.  Now, these should be ready to bloom right away-- even this year, if I'm lucky.

We have three Eucomis comosa bulbs-- just the plain species of the plant, not named hybrids.  (I'm still waiting for signs of life from a fourth bulb-- Eucomis humilis 'Twinkle Stars'.)  They're still just tiny sprouts of green, but they're growing quickly.  I haven't decided yet whether to try to plant them into the ground or keep them in pots until autumn.  I potted them so I could keep a closer eye on them until they at least sprouted, but now I'm thinking it might be best to keep them in pots until the weather finally cools.  Still deciding...

Some of our new-this-year canna lilies have begun to bloom.  I think these were some of an unspecified mix.  They're very tropical-looking-- very "primary-colors", too.  I'm not sure how I feel about those primary colors.  They're not usually my favorite crayons in the box, to be honest...  A little lacking in subtlety-- but on the other hand, bright and cheerful.  I'll wait and see how they do this summer.  If they're not right for this particular spot, I'll find another place for them to live.

Just a random photo of a flowerbed...
Speaking of eye-searing primary colors, that red gladiolus is taller than I am, now.

A white spider lily (Hymenocallis) has been blooming.  Very delicate flowers that don't last long before melting away.  They do have a graceful shape, though, and the thick, strappy fountains of foliage have sculptural appeal all summer long.

I was poking around online, looking at hydrangeas, and I think I may have identified my mystery hydrangea!  I'm not certain-- some photos look like a perfect match; others don't-- but I suspect this may be 'Merritt's Beauty'.

From what I understand, 'Merritt's Beauty' tends toward pink and is one of the easier hydrangeas to keep purple.  This hydrangea has usually tended toward pink/violet-red in our garden, but it's not really predictable.  It seems to be slightly different, every year!  This season, it's trending toward definite purple.

The bog sage has grown unbelievably since I planted it less than three months ago (early April?).  The bees love that thing, and it feels like a plant with a real enthusiasm for life (if that doesn't sound completely pretentious or downright kooky).

I think it's safe to say that it's in a good spot that makes it happy.  Which reminds me...

I've been noticing, lately, that many times if a plant is described as a "bee magnet", people recommend placing it away from paths-- or maybe not even growing it at all, if there are children and pets to consider.  That abundance of caution makes since for people with a bee allergy or maybe very small children, but bees aren't that bad for most of us, are they?  I'd be more concerned with a plant that was a wasp magnet-- but bees?

Maybe I've been lucky, but so far, the bees have been too focused on the flowers to care much about me.  I hope that continues, because I have a lot of bee-magnet plants-- such as blanket flower and bee balm-- that are planted right along my major pathways.

Some of my purple coneflowers are upstanding citizens of the garden.  Others have demonstrated a disappointing tendency to flop over-- often right into the gravel path.  I try to prop them up with bamboo stakes, but I'm a little confused about why some of them flop and others don't.  Maybe some of them have been getting too much water.  (It wouldn't be the first time I'd over-watered...)

There's something "retro-vintage" about that color combo of light pink petals and burnt orange center.  (Yes, this is another time when the plant-namers lied.  I've yet to grow a truly purple coneflower.  This, dear reader, is pink.)

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Here's a more recent photo of the trombone squash vines.

I was listening to a recording of a local gardening radio show-- one of the first places I learned about other types of summer squash-- and the host was talking about squash again.  He mentioned the tromboncino squash, but he seemed even more excited about something called "ball squash" or "Korean ball squash", the seed of which seems to be rarer than the trombone squash seed.  Apparently these ball squash start producing earlier in the season, produce a lot, and have more flavor-- which he described as buttery.  Could be interesting to try, sometime...  (For future reference, he said he'd had good luck ordering ball squash seed from Kitazawa Seed Company.)

These trombone squash grow large quickly, but something's been damaging most of the little fruits.  I suspect stink bugs are to blame for at least some of the damage.

I picked the big one in the photo above right after taking the picture; here it is beside a couple of rulers.  About 22 inches long, looks like. (The clear ruler has centimeters, if you think in metric, which I don't.  Let's see... 22 inches = nearly 56cm.)

In the same radio program, they were discussing some mild type of habanero.  If I can figure out which type he's talking about and track down the seeds for next year, that might be interesting to try, too.  Apparently they're mild enough that the host compared them to tomatoes.  (Then again, maybe he's crazy.)