Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Blackberry Lily

This summer, I've had the pleasure of seeing my first blackberry lily (Iris domestica) in bloom!

I started out with a few seeds, which came from Nan Ondra in late 2015.  I should've kept better notes, but as it is I'm not sure exactly what happened with those seeds... I think I planted them in the spring of 2016, but they must not have sprouted until this spring... Unless they did, and I just didn't ever put them into the garden last year (which is doubtful).  The seeds do need at least a month of cold stratification.  Most likely, they didn't get enough of that before I planted them, so they weren't "triggered" to sprout until after their winter spent outdoors.

In any case, they did finally sprout.  Before I planted them, a few succumbed to either rot or snails (or both)-- but two of them made it to the new Oval Bed.  One of these bloomed, and there are seed pods, so I hope to be able to harvest seeds and get more started.

Blackberry lily gets its common name from the fact that the seeds resemble blackberries, by the way.  They're also known as "leopard lily", and I think you'll see why, in the photos that follow...

Blackberry Lily

Blackberry Lily

Blackberry Lily

Blackberry Lily

Blackberry Lily

Blackberry Lily

They're described as short-lived perennials, so I hope I can get enough going from seed to establish a self-sustaining patch of them.  Though the flowers are fairly dainty, they are eye-catching and have an unusual look.  They make a charming addition to the flower bed!

In the Land of Milk and... Wine?

Crinum lilies are one of those plants I didn't fully appreciate until I started paying more serious attention to gardening.  Maybe it's because I grew up seeing them so often-- like the "plain" orange daylilies.  Maybe it has something to do with their tropical look-- not a positive feature, back before I had embraced the (sub)tropical nature of this area.  (And by "embraced", I mean "reluctantly gave in to the fact that life is easier if you plant mostly things that want to grow in your area".  I do not and will not relinquish the right to complain about the heat and humidity.  I don't have it in me to be consistently cheerful throughout our long summers!)

Since then, I've come to value their toughness and easy-going nature-- and their beauty, too.

Over the past couple of years, I've planted a few new crinums in our garden.  Two of them have yet to bloom-- 'Ellen Bosanquet' and Crinum x. powelli 'Album'-- but two of the "milk and wine" type (no specific ID) have bloomed this summer.

The first one to bloom was somewhat less impressive than I'd have hoped-- maybe I just didn't catch it on a good day-- but the second one was pretty.

Here's the first one looking a little limp and frail and faint.  (I suspect it did look better, at some point.)

Milk and Wine Crinum Lily

A hefty stem and bud announce the impending arrival of crinum lilies.

Milk and Wine Crinum Lily

The second one to bloom was right off the path to the kitchen door.  It's in a better location for viewing than the first one, which may account for some of my change in attitude.

Milk and Wine Crinum Lily

The flowers are still a bit frail (delicate?), but these did seem to have a bit more body and verve than the first one.  

Milk and Wine Crinum Lily

Milk and Wine Crinum Lily

Milk and Wine Crinum Lily

Milk and Wine Crinum Lily

The first of our crinodonnas (a.k.a. amarcrinums) bloomed, earlier this summer!  This plant is a cross between an amaryllis and a crinum (Amaryllis belladonna x Crinum moorei).

They're relatively rare-- certainly not a common find in your nearest big box store.  I ordered ours online and though no variety was named, it may be 'Fred Howard' (based on the fact that that's supposedly the most commonly available variety-- and it has "somewhat irregular pink flowers", which I think describes ours pretty well).

The blooms are pretty enough, but weren't anything special compared to the pale pink crinum passed along from my family.  If all it had going for it was looks, it would be bested by the crinum, which are more perfectly formed.  However, the crinodonna as a trick up its sleeve: It's scented!  (If you're a regular reader, you know I have a weakness for scented plants...)

Crinodonna

I wish I had blogged back when the fragrance was still fresh in my mind... As it is, I can't remember if it reminded me of anything in particular-- but it was a pleasant fragrance.  Soft and pleasant.  Not overpowering.

I'm pleased with this new plant and would be glad to collect another variety or two, at some point.  Since named cultivars seem to be hard to come by, I'll probably content myself with watching to see how the two (of the same type) I already have progress in the next year or two.


"Passion" in the Garden

This has been a great year for the red passion flower vines!  (I think they are of the 'Lady Margaret' variety, but they didn't come with a label, so that's just my best guess.)

First, there was successful propagation.

(Warning:  I'm about to ramble on for paragraphs about my completely average method of dealing with cuttings.  There are photos to follow, if you'd rather skip ahead.)

I took a couple of cuttings earlier in the summer for Mom, then took two more for myself.  I'm not sure if Mom's are still alive, but mine are, despite being kept in tiny pots all this time, on restricted sunlight.  The're small pants, but they're definitely growing-- so at least we know they're pretty easy to root!

For future reference, I've heard that you should not use rooting hormone on passion vine.  For some reason, it actually makes them less likely to take root.

For my cuttings, all I did was cut about foot-long lengths from the tips of the vines, cut (preferably at an angle) about a quarter-inch below the bottom-most node of each length.  (The node is the little swollen part where the leaves sprout from a vine or stem.  These are the parts of the stem from which new growth will emanate-- including new roots.)

Next, I strip the leaves from the bottom-most two or three nodes.  (It's important to note which part of the cutting is "up" and which is "down".  Usually, leaves grow at a slight angle so that they point up.  You can also tell by looking at the leaves themselves.  The tops of the leaves should face up when you plant your cuttings.)  It doesn't hurt to also remove any tendrils-- and it's always best to cut off any flowers or buds from a cutting, because they take energy that the cutting should divert toward growing new roots.  Preferably, there should be at least two good leaves left on each cutting.  These will collect sunlight and feed the plant during rooting.  Some people recommend leaving only two leaves.  Others "allow" more.  Personally, I'd aim for no fewer than two and no more than four or five.  I just remove all the others with a snip or a pinch.

Stick the cutting into a small pot of loose soil.  Some people are picky about the planting medium.  For my cuttings, I use whatever I have on hand.  Fresh potting soil is nice, but plain old soil from the garden works, too.  Certain plants do better with specific types of soil/sand/etc., and garden soil may contain pests that can kill a cutting-- but it doesn't hurt to try-- especially if you own the parent plant and can try again later.  For most cuttings, you want something that will hold moisture but still drain (not stay waterlogged, which causes rot).

You want a couple of nodes below the surface, and it's best to have a pot deep enough that the end of the cutting isn't touching the bottom of the pot.  Multiple cuttings can go into the same small pot.  They don't need much room to root, and once they do, you can repot them to give each successful new plant more room to grow.

Water immediately-- and keep them watered regularly.  They shouldn't be soaking wet all the time, but neither should they be allowed to dry out too much.  If you don't live in a summer sauna, like I do, you may want to look into creating a moist microclimate for them.  This can be accomplished as simply as by placing a clear plastic bag or half a 2-liter cola bottle over the cutting.  (I don't know enough about it to advise in much detail... Lack of humidity is rarely a problem here!)

I like to keep my cuttings in a reasonably/partly shady spot, since they'll wilt and dry out too quickly in the sun.  After a while (two weeks?), you can test them by gently pulling them to see if they've taken root.  If there's resistance to a gentle tug, you know they've started rooting.  (If not, you'll probably want to start over again with fresh cuttings, because if they haven't taken root by then, it's unlikely they ever will.)  You can also just wait until you start to see new growth.  New leaves mean success!

This is essentially how I do all my cuttings, though now that I have some rooting hormone, I do sometimes use that, if I think about it and feel like messing with it.  For a plant that I have easy access to, however, I often won't bother with the hormone.  So many plants (many salvias, for instance) root very easily without it.  There are times when I will try rooting in water-- especially cuttings from small trees or large shrubs-- but I think I might have better luck skipping straight to the soil.  I'm sure it varies by plant-- and probably from person to person, for whatever reason.

- - - - - - -

Phew.  Enough of that...

Successful propagation aside, this was a banner year for the passion vines because (for some unknown reason) the Gulf fritillary butterflies came later in the season, compared to last year.  I'm not sure which is closer to the norm, but this summer I didn't see the first orange butterfly for weeks and weeks-- months, even-- later than last year.  Once they reached our area, they weren't shy about laying their eggs.  There are tons of caterpillars at various stages of growth, now, but in the months before their arrival, the vines have had the chance to grow substantially larger, this summer.  It's been great!

Passion Flower

Passion Flower

Passion Flower


Passion Flower


Passion Flower


Passion Flower

Passion Flower


Passion Flower


This butterfly laid an egg on a dead stem near the passion vine, rather than on the vine itself.  I guess that's probably close enough.

Gulf Fritillary

Here's a caterpillar that's made it to a good size:

Gulf Fritillary Caterpillar

There are three at various stages in this last photo.  They're not the prettiest things, with those unfriendly-looking spikes, but they're interesting-- and the butterflies are nice to have around the garden.

Gulf Fritillary Caterpillar

It's amazing to me that butterflies whose caterpillars have special dietary needs can find the right plant, out of all the miles and acres that don't have the correct vegetation.  What a feat, for such tiny creatures!

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Daylily Rebloomers

Hey, look-- I haven't fallen off the face of the Earth just yet!  However, as far as the garden is concerned, I almost might as well have...  I've been neglecting my weeding and trimming shamefully, this summer, and as a result, it will be a challenge to get it back under control-- but it will happen, eventually, one way or another.  (At some point.)

In the meantime, I have a bunch of photos taken over the past couple of months, and I'll be posting those over the next however-long-it-takes.

This time, the theme is reblooming daylilies-- specifically, those that happened to have a flower open when I was out with the camera (which didn't happen that often).

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily

Daylily