Sometimes It's Grimm In the Garden, Too

I always laugh when someone mentions my having a "green thumb" in the comments. Because . . . I don't. I really don't. I have had so many garden mishaps in my years of gardening. So. Many. Plants that fail to thrive. Bad decisions. Planting entire beds that are not suited to the conditions. Pests and diseases . . . spider mites, aphids, thrip, scale, rabbits, deer . . . you name it, I've dealt with it. Overzealous ground cover. Blossom end rot. Let's just say . . . I kill a lot of plants. (One of my garden "zones" is called The Semi-Circle of Death - or SCOD -  for a reason!!!)

But I think that's just part of gardening.

Failure, that is. (Like any "art" or "craft.")
You simply have to accept that not everything is going to work out.
There are no "green thumbs."

Just a willingness to . . . be curious, ask questions, try again.
Or let it go.

For me, this year . . . I'm having troubles in my herb garden.

With . . . basil, of all things!
(And parsley, too.)

I grow a couple of "patches" of basil in my herb garden every year. With great success. As in . . . by now, I'd usually have a couple of basil harvests under my belt, not only enjoying fresh basil in my cooking on the regular and but also making batches of "basil bombs" to store in my freezer for winter. This year? I got this . . . 

Yeah.
Talk about . . . failing to thrive!

That . . . was the sad state of my basil (and parsley) this summer.

And my favorite, trusted nursery . . . was out of basil when I went to buy more! Like . . . they couldn't stock it or grow it fast enough this year. Is even basil a victim of the pandemic supply and demand issue? Or is something weird going on with basil this year? I have no idea . . . But last week, I got an email from the nursery letting me know that basil was back -- but in limited supply. So I hurried in and snapped up a few plants (but not as many as I wanted because the supply really was limited, and I didn't want to be piggy. . . ).

So.
Trying again.
Because that's what gardening is all about!

Keep your fingers crossed and send the good-basil-juju.

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"A dried plant is nothing but a sign to plant a new one."
            --- Priyansh Shah

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Enjoy your weekend, and I'll see you on Monday.

Mid-Summer Compare and Contrast

My container plants are doing really well this summer. (It's the plant dildos, I swear.) 

How well?
Let's compare and contrast!

It's always good to have some photos around . . . for perspective.
Here, for example, is one of my front door planters . . . earlier this week.

(If you look closely, you can see the 2 wine bottles in there. But barely!)

And here it is, back on June 2 . . . when I first planted it.

Yep.
That's some progress, there!

I hope your garden is growing well this season, too.

Enjoy the weekend . . . and I'll see you back here on Monday.

Creepy Crawlies

(Trigger warning: snakes)

As I putter around in my garden, I run into a garter snake once in a while. I know they're in there . . . hanging around in my shrubs and tall grasses (as they do). But I don't usually see them very often . . . maybe one a year? Maybe less?

When I do encounter one in the garden, I'm always startled. Really startled. Because they move so quickly. And they camouflage so effectively. I never see them . . . until they move. I'm not afraid of them, really. I don't mind that they're out there, in my garden. But they will always make me jump a little bit. And then run for my camera! (Because they're kind of cool.) (They're also good for the garden - click here to learn more - and are actually a sign of a healthy, well-balanced garden.)

This one . . . really surprised me! Because it was bigger than most garter snakes I see (about 3 feet long) and it moved across my path from the grass to this spot under the rose bush . . . quick as a wink. (It was not happy to see me, but it did pose for several photos.)

For whatever reason, I'm seeing more garter snakes than usual in my garden this year. Lots more. Enough that I poke around a bit with my garden tools before moving in under thick cover to do any weeding or digging. (I figure they don't want to see me the same way I don't want to see them, and my "poking around" gives them fair warning.)

Here's another one (much smaller; more typical) . . . just sunning itself in the midst of salvia plant. (Brian took this photo.)  

The other day, Tom was out in the driveway and noticed a couple - just out for a walk - suddenly take out their phones and start taking pictures in our yard. They'd spotted a garter snake and were fascinated! (To Tom and I, it's kind of old news by this point.)

So. This is the Year of the Snake . . . in my garden, at least!
(Which may explain why there are no frogs in my pond this year. . . )

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I hope you have a great weekend.
With no snakes (unless you want to see them) . . . 

Summer Refresh

July . . . in the garden . . . isn't quite like June.

In June, everything is so exciting! Emerging. Growing. Blooming like mad. There's even some enthusiasm for the more mundane gardening chores like weeding, watering the containers, transplanting, and deadheading. After a long winter inside - dreaming about being out in the garden again - those chores seem (kind of) . . . fun.

By July? Well. Maybe not so much.

The garden story is changing a bit. The excitement has died down. Blooms are fading. Growth is slowing. Weeds are EVERYwhere. It becomes very obvious where the "holes" are . . . which plants didn't quite perform like you'd hoped, for example. Or areas of the garden that need more color or foliage . . . or something. Maybe . . . you wished you'd mulched more. Or . . . damn those deer. And, hey! What happened to the basil? You can see where your irrigation system isn't working. Those mundane garden chores just aren't so charming anymore.

In short, it takes WORK to keep a garden looking good for the whole season. And it becomes glaringly obvious in . . . oh, about July.

For me, this always means . . . Summer Refresh! A time to assess and plot for the even drier, hotter months ahead. What's working out there? What's not? What do I need more of? What can I cut back? Where do I need to up my watering game? That kind of thing.

Luckily, most garden shops and nurseries are there to help me out at this time of year . . . with SALES. Now is a great time to find discounted plants at your local nurseries. Sure. The plants may be more root-bound and "leggy" than they are earlier in the season. But the nurseries price them to move -- and you can get some great deals.

Earlier this week, I visited the annual "cart sale" at one of my local nurseries. They pull out all their excess annuals into their parking lot (we're talking racks and racks of blooming annuals and leggy vegetables) (and a very big parking lot). Shoppers grab a giant cart (a "nursery gurney" as my mom used to call them)  . . . and you fill the whole thing up for $55. (When I first started going to the cart sale, it was $35. . . just sayin) There are rules, of course. No stacking. Nothing can be hanging off the cart. But, other than that . . . it's pretty much open season.

And it's a great way to fill "holes" in your garden or containers!

(This is my cart this year. Not as "loaded" as some years, but full enough for sure!)

This weekend, you'll find me in my garden* . . . refreshing containers, dragging some hoses, moving a few plants around, weeding (always), and following my constant garden mantra/refrain: If it's brown, cut it down.

(One of my recently-refreshed front porch containers.) (It really needed some extra oomph this year.)

I'm eager for a refresh out in the garden!
(And, actually, this is all a metaphor for life. But that's for another post, another day.)

I hope you all enjoy a lovely, long weekend . . . refreshing anything that needs refreshing!

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* No Up-North-for-the-4th for us! It's too crowded and too busy up there over the 4th. And there are just . . . too many fireworks. (JoJo struggles mightily with the fireworks, and she really suffers when we're up north where it's constant firecrackers ALL DAY and ALL NIGHT, FOR DAYS.) So we stay home for a quiet(er) . . . refresh.

 

 

 

The Gardening Post Where I Lose My PG Rating

Every year, I plant several containers of annuals to place on my front porch and patio (and a few other spots here and there in the garden). I love putting the combinations of plants together, and I love the pops of color the annuals provide all summer long. But. They require daily watering. And I'm not always home to do it (going up north frequently and all). Although I usually hire someone to come and water my plants if we go on a long vacation, I don't do this for just a few days away at our cabin. I usually just . . . water the crap out of everything before we leave and hope for rain.

But this year, we've been in a drought here in my corner of the world.* I knew that my containers would absolutely not survive even a day without water. You might remember that a couple of weeks ago I mentioned having a "trick up my sleeve" for keeping my annual containers watered . . . even when I wasn't home for several days?

Well.
Let's talk about that.

I ordered a set of these . . . 

(Actually, I ordered two sets.)

They're spikes (the ones I ordered are made of terra cotta; there are also plastic ones available) that you "plant" directly into the soil of your containers . . . and then you can place bottles filled with water upside-down into the spikes. The theory is . . . the water will leak out into the soil of your plants slowly, to keep your plants watered and ALIVE.

They arrived a couple of days before Erin did, and we decided to try them out together before heading up north for a few days. (Erin was particularly interested in how they'd work, since she does a lot of container gardening in the blistering California sun on her apartment patio.)

We weren't quite prepared for what they'd actually look like . . . when we unpacked the box and opened them up. (And here goes my PG rating.)

Because . . . plant dildos . . . right? (There was so much laughing.) (So. Much.) You really can't describe them any other way, I'm afraid.

Okay. So.
On we go.

We followed the directions carefully so as not to break the terra cotta. And to get them to work properly, of course.

Seriously.
What else can you even call these????

But. Once carefully planted in the containers . . . the design makes perfect sense!

Next, you fill bottles with water and place them (carefully) in the spikes, upside-down. You can use any bottle -- recycled water bottles, pop bottles, wine bottles. Really, anything you might have around. I ordered a set of 12 plastic wine bottles to use in my containers, and they worked perfectly! They're light, even filled with water (I was afraid standard glass wine bottles would be too heavy for the terra cotta and would crack it), and they're not a bad "look" for my containers either. (If I was going to be home for a while - and definitely if I was going to have a party or gathering in my garden - I'd take the bottles out.)

The most important thing? THEY WORKED! We were gone for several (very hot) days - with no rain. When we returned, the bottles were about half-full, and all the plants were alive and looking great. The soil wasn't wet on the top -- but the water was definitely getting to the roots, where it's most important.

I'm really pleased with the results so far. I don't know how well they'd work during a long vacation during a dry spell, but they will certainly see me through for my shorter forays up north. My note-to-self for next year will be to "plant" the spikes at the same time I plant my containers, as it was slightly challenging (but not very, because it's still early in the season) to fit them in among the already-growing annuals.

So.
There you have it.
Plant dildos . . . for the win!!!

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* And, of course . . . the drought has officially ended here in my corner of the world.
Here's the weather situation as I write this post. . .

Looks like I won't be needing my plant dildos for a while. But they're (ahem) inserted and ready when I do!

I hope you all have a great weekend.
See you on Monday!

 

Working From Home

We've been up at our cabin this week . . . and we've come home for a day before turning around and heading back. (Gotta pick up the mail. Water my containers. Check out the garden. Go to the library.) (And do something extra exciting, too!*)

Before heading up north last week, though, I was busy . . . working from home.
My office . . . 

I finally got my containers planted!

Those photos are all a week old now. I'm amazed at how much/how quickly things have filled in since then! It's hot and dry here this summer, so I'm not sure how they'll do longer term. Especially because I'm not here every day to water. But I have a trick up my sleeve! (I just received some self-watering "devices" I'm going to try. I'll keep you posted.)

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*And now . . . for the excitement!

Tonight, we pick up our California girl at the airport for a week's visit. I can hardly contain myself! We haven't seen her since Christmas 2019!

I'll be taking a blog break next week . . . to enjoy every moment of Erin's visit. See you in a week! Enjoy yourselves!

 

Garden Explosion

"In early June the world of leaf and blade and flowers explodes and every sunset is different."
                --- John Steinbeck

This is truly a wonderful time of the season in my garden.
John Steinbeck was right. Leaf and blade and flowers . . . everything is exploding right now! The Bloom Show is about to begin.

Last night, as the sun was beginning to go down, the dogs and I headed out to water the trees. We're having a terrible drought here in my corner of the world; most unusual for this time of year. And, sadly, my sprinkler system is not up to the task and we're having trouble getting anyone out to look into it. Covid, they say. Short-staffed, they say. Let's just say . . . I'm dragging hoses to the garden beds and giving up on the grass.

Anyway.

Things in the garden are looking good.

The plants have grown up enough to cover up the (never-ending, always-growing) weeds. Plus, Tom's freshly laid mulch helps! And the flowers are beginning to put on their show.

Lots of purples right now. (And I really wish you could smell that wisteria. The whole backyard smells divine.)

(This is Baptisia, or wild indigo. It doesn't bloom for long, but it's glorious at the moment.)

My Satomi dogwood is really putting on a great show this year, too.

I love dogwood trees . . . but the Satomi is my favorite. It blooms later and for longer than most dogwoods, and while the flowers are white at the beginning, they gradually turn pink as the show continues. It's pretty fabulous.

I really love this time of year in the garden.

So much hope. So much promise. 
(So much work.)

But now is the time for the payoff.

JoJo thinks so, too!

Have a lovely weekend, everyone.
(Mine will be lovely . . . once I get some dental work done later this morning. Ugh. I cracked a tooth and now need an unexpected crown. . . )

Enjoy whatever's blooming in your world.

 

In the Garden

In 1987, Tom and I bought our first house. (A real fixer-upper, let me tell you. . . ) I was so excited to be able to plant some flowers and maybe start a little vegetable garden in the backyard. (I wasn't a gardener yet, but the seeds had been planted.) What I didn't understand then . . . was that the house we purchased was situated in a town that, at one time long ago, had been a river bed. The entire area was a muck field -- with incredibly dark and rich organic soil perfect for growing . . . pretty much anything. This soil assured my early success in gardening. (I thought it was me; it was the muck.)

But that's all a story for another day.

Today, I have a different early gardening story.

The other day, as I was weeding in one of my garden beds (Front Door North, if you're interested), I noticed the big guy in my photo above . . . crawling around in my sedum. He was a really lovely toad. Bronze and shimmery. Sizable. Probably irritated that I was making him move when he'd really rather not. I love gardening with toads. 

And that got me thinking about the first time I discovered a toad in my garden . . . 

It was back at that first house . . . in the muck fields. Our first spring there, I brought home a flat of red geraniums to plant in the little foundation beds in front of our house. I was so excited! I had my flat of flowers, a little trowel (the one I still use, by the way), and my little gardener's kneeling pad . . . and I dug in. After planting the first few red geraniums, I found my gardening groove. And then, as I dug into the soil to plant another geranium, it . . . moved.

I had disturbed a BIG ol' toad!

I freaked out! 

I shrieked. I threw the trowel and the geranium up in the air and over my head into the yard behind me. I leaped up and back into the yard in one fluid movement. (It must have been quite comical . . . ) 

I wasn't actually afraid of the toad. I was just . . . surprised . . . by the toad. Really surprised. I had never considered that I might encounter something live like that . . . right there in my front yard foundation garden! 

Since that day, I have encountered many, MANY toads while gardening. Sometimes they still surprise me (they camoflage themselves so well, just sitting there in the soil), but never like that first time. I love sharing my gardening space with . . . creatures. Toads and garter snakes. Frogs. Insects. Birds, bees, butterflies. Squirrels and chipmunks and groundhogs and rabbits and possums . (Skunks . . . I'm more leery of. But I know they're out there.)

I make my garden a friendly place . . . for flowers and plants -- and for all the creatures that call my garden "home." And it all started with that one toad, so many years ago.

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I hope you all have a restful weekend, with plenty of time in your garden (if that's your kind of thing).

Go Time

For about two-and-a-half weeks, we've had this weird spring weather pattern here in my corner of the universe. It's been really cold, but . . . not like a normal spring cold snap. Those usually come and go in any northern spring -- a threatened overnight frost following several teasingly summer-like days is normal and expected around here.

But, nope. This cold snap . . . was not "snappy" at all. Frigid air and biting winds swooped in for a long visit. Too long. It was a real drag! And for some reason, it really dragged me down. I don't usually let the weather stop me from getting out in the garden (too much), but these past couple of weeks, it kinda did. 

It was like a freeze frame in the garden! And apparently for me, too. It was like Mother Nature hit PAUSE. And there we were.

Trees that were blooming when the cold moved in (my redbuds and my viburnum, for example) just held onto their blooms the whole time. Normally, those blooms don't last very long - because warm sunshine moves things along quickly in the spring. So it was nice to have those blooming trees stuck in a time warp. And buds . . . just stayed tight buds. (Good thing. Because that protected the tender blooms from the freeze.) The only thing that took a real hit was my azalea (pictured above). It looked just like it did in the photo - with the blooms just opening up - when the cold front moved in. Nearly three weeks later, it looks the same. Only with frost damage. It won't be blooming this year.

Well. I guess I took a hit, too -- in terms of my emotional and mental health. The freeze frame in my garden . . . extended to me, too. (Languishing, I tell you. It's a real thing.) I would've been okay with a typical cold snap. This one just hung around too long.

But yesterday, the temperatures climbed into the upper 60s. And the sun was shining! Today it's supposed to hit 70. I can feel myself . . . thawing out. My garden can feel it, too.

I have some alliums just waiting to pop.

There are beds to clean. Weeds to pull. Containers to plan. Ponds to get running.

It's GO TIME.
I'm feeling better already.

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I hope you all enjoy a great weekend -- filled with things that will help you flourish.

 

 

The State of Things: An Update

Way back at the end of March, I shared how I was progressing with various projects on my plate at the time. Since then?

• Overalls. Check.
• Colorwork Sweater. Check.
• Taxes. Check.

The garden bed cleanup, though? Still plugging along!

I mean . . . I created a monster. My garden beds are too big and too numerous for me to ever keep up with all at once. (I, of course, never considered this as I kept expanding.) I love it. But it's been a good exercise in . . . letting go of perfection, living with weeds, setting priorities, and knowing when to say "when." (There are so many metaphors for life in my garden.)

I don't regret a thing about my garden.

But sometimes, in the spring, I do question a few things.
(As in . . . what was I thinking???)

Anyway.
At this point, I'm over the half-way point in cleaning up all the beds. (And the toughest ones are complete.) (You know. For the first pass.) And our "lawn guy" (we hire this great kid -- who started his own landscaping company as a sophomore in high school; he's a senior this year, and a master businessman) has helped me by clearing out the real detritus of the garden. And he's started the weekly mowing and edging. Tom is poised to begin mulching. Progress, for sure.

Because there is so much . . . garden . . . to manage, I've "divided" it into 17 "beds" (even though most of them are actually contiguous) so I can keep track of where I'm working and what needs to be done where. I've also named each bed, which allows me to refer to them by name when communicating with Tom, my chief digger and mulcher. (He's got the nomenclature down.)

This area, for example, is referred to as "The SCOD," which stands for Semi-Circle-Of-Death. (In the earlier years, many things . . . came and went, failed to thrive, met their demise . . . in that area of the garden. Things have settled down now, but we still refer to it as The SCOD.)

(The first photo in this post is also The SCOD, but from the opposite direction.) The SCOD . . . requires a lot of work. Every year. All the time. And because it's the main pathway into our backyard and garden, I like to keep it looking pretty good, most of the time. (In the background of the photos, you can see another bed. I call that one Arborvitae Alley. It's much more low-maintenance, and especially since we pulled out 3 unruly red twig dogwoods a couple of years ago.)

Some of my beds are named for their . . . distinguishing features.

The Pergola Area, for example.

Or The Pond. (You can see the pond is not yet set up; the hose. . . )

There's Tom's Garden (because he turned a boring corner of the lawn into a secret corner garden of delight) . . . 

And we have The Butterfly Garden. The Deer Salad Bar. The Arbor.

But most of our garden beds . . . are just named for where they are. The Bed In Front of the Window, for example. Or Against the Fence. Or Front Door South and Front Door North. (This is Front Door North.)

Or Back Corner . . . 

Like I said . . . it's a lot. But it's also a lot . . . to love.

Perhaps I'll come back and show you how the beds are shaping up as the season progresses. It's all still in the just-emerging phase right now; preparing to launch. It'll be much more spectacular and impressive in a few weeks!

For today? I've got my work cut out for me as I take on The Herb Garden and The Bed In Front Of The Window!

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Have a great weekend, and I'll see you on Monday.