A Peony Comes Full Circle

I have always felt a special attachment to my husband's childhood home in Western New York. When Hank's father returned from World War II, he came home to his young wife and children, filled with hope, ready to put the war years behind him and build a brighter future. By 1950 he and his wife had saved enough money to begin to build their house.  Though he was an appliance salesman by day, he did most of the construction and carpentry himself in every spare minute.   They took great pride in their new home and kept it immaculate on the inside and out.  It was where my Hank spent his years from age 3 through high school, and it was the home he returned to on college breaks and throughout his early career, and for many more years after it was sold to his sister in 1978.

It was the home he took me to in 1973 to introduce me to his family:  

I have nothing but happy memories of holidays, barbecues, bringing our first baby to visit, bringing three more babies to visit.  Laughter, fun, cousins for our kids, welcoming hugs, cozy rooms.....love.

But in 2000 his sister moved hundreds of miles away and the home was sold to strangers.  After five decades, it left the family.  

His hometown has fallen into difficult times, as so many once-vibrant towns have.  The economy bottomed out, industry left, businesses folded.  Many homes are in foreclosure, this once lovely home as well.  

A few days ago we returned to my husband's home town for his class reunion.  We drove by the house.  It was vacant.  Foreclosure signs were on every door.   the iron railing leading to the front door was severely bent. The foundation of the garage appeared to be rotting.  The landscaping was terribly overgrown.  Sixty year old pine trees were leaning against the house. There had been a garden along the driveway which you can see in the above picture.  Years ago it was filled with peonies and other perennials. There were now so many scrap trees along the stone wall that the sun perennials were struggling to find light. It was hard to identify any plants in the tangle of weeds.  Sad.  I couldn't stop thinking about that garden.  All day.  All night. 

By the next day I had come up with a plan.  It became my goal and my focus to remove a peony from my mother-in-law's old garden, bring it home and give it new life in my own garden.  Call it the Spirit of Eleanor, call it illegal, but it was going to happen. I was not leaving his hometown without a peony root.  I had to come up with a strategy. We could not pull into the driveway, yank out a peony, jump in the car and tear away burning rubber. That might look suspicious to the neighbors, nest-ce que pas?  My plan was to pull into the driveway, both get out, walk slowly around the house, looking at and pointing to features, reminisce, and generally speaking, look like the nostalgic old folks that we were.  Then I would open the car door, linger a little longer by the stone wall that contained decades old peonies, choose my target, give a yank, and place the root in the car.  And that is exactly what I did.......X 2! It seemed far more victorious than naughty.  I felt far more like a propagator of something lovely than a perp.  Before we got back into the car I cast another glance at the garden and saw seeds in the dried pockets of the money plant.  My mother-in-law's lunaria plants!  So I snapped off a couple twigs of seeds and tossed that in the car as well!  For someone who has a very low threshold of feeling guilt, I was feeling NONE of it!

The next day when we returned home I dug two holes, enriched the soil with Epsom Bio-tone Starter, and planted those two somewhat scrawny, needy roots into my garden and watered well.  I put my "traveling angel" near them.  She tends to go where she is most needed.  

Soon I will sprinkle the lunaria seeds in a semi-shady spot I have picked out. I am hopeful. And next Spring I will be out there every day to look for signs of life.  When I do I will remember my caper, I will be grateful that my mission was successful and I will feel Henry and Eleanor smiling down at me with satisfaction, saying, "Well done, Lauri!"

Iris Friends

A few years ago, at the strong suggestion of my cardiologist, I began to get serious about daily walks.  Since that time I have taken fifty minute walks on most days.  That same doctor, at some point in time, upped the ante and asked if I was including hills in my walks.  I sheepishly admitted that my neighborhood is quite flat, as is our local, lovely bike path.  But one day I noticed a relatively untraveled  offshoot from the main trail.....................  

 Curiosity and a glimpse of lush green drew me down the path where I discovered a peaceful glen AND a  path that included two short but steep hills.  There was also an historic sign. (Have I ever mentioned that I love these gold and blue signs?)

The bridge, over a century old, flows over a creek that is a noisy torrent after a rain, and a gentle stream at other times. Taken twice per walk, this little off-shoot kicked the cardio up a considerable notch.  From the start I began to take notice of a home in a lovely setting alongside the trail, a home whose garden slopes towards the path and gives walkers a bit of scenery.  As the season progressed, I looked forward to seeing what was in bloom in the garden.

One  year ago I had the task of dividing my apricot lilies, which were overgrowing their space.  

I simply had too many to keep.  And I thought of that garden I admired on the path.  On a whim, I wrapped a couple of tubers in newspaper, put them in a bag with a note thanking the residents for giving walkers such a nice view.  I took them with me on my walk and put the bag in their mailbox. (Never mind that my amused grown children called me "The Stalker.")  A week later I returned from our family vacation in the Adirondacks and resumed  my walking.    I happened to notice a stake in the ground at the edge of the garden, with a plastic bag attached, and an envelope inside an attached zip-loc bag. I thought, "Could that be for me?"  With trepidation  I drew closer and read, "For My Gardening Friend."   It WAS meant for me!   I was delighted with my gift.  Anonymous thanked me for the iris, and gave me tubers for two varieties of iris that originated from her mother's garden on Long Island.  I was most honored to be the recipient.  I set them in and eagerly awaited their blossom this year.  And here they are!

I still haven't met my gardening friend - but I love knowing that our iris are blooming in each others gardens.  

Snippets

I'm enjoying a fleeting moment between the perennial tasks  of the past month and the  annual tasks, soon to begin.  Without the pressure of adding compost, weeding, dividing, edging, bunny-protecting and settling in my items from Bluestone Perennials,  I had the pleasure today of just walking around the garden, making observations and tending to small details,  finding little surprises here and there.

My clump of Virginia bluebells is having its first really spectacular year after two or three slow years of adjusting to living in my garden.  It DOES like its best friend, the bleeding heart.    My tiarella is forming its early small plumes of white and pink.  The lily of the valley is just beginning to open up and release its aroma.  I love when my favorite colors get together for a photo op. 

Don't hurt your eyes looking for the anemone (hint: center).  At the end of last season I took one stalk of anemone, sank it in a new spot, left the old stalk in for a marker and noted it on my garden map.  I don't think a day has gone by since the ground thawed that I haven't looked for it.  Each day....bare ground. But I just KNEW it would come.  See what I found today!  It was a rough winter for the tall, white, "Whirlwind" Japanese Anemone.  Even the healthy clumps were late to emerge and seemed to be a fraction of their former size.  But I loved seeing this tiny little reassurance that good things are happening below the surface of the earth (and this is why I never mulch until mid-June).

I have had several columbine in this garden, most do not survive more than a season or two, but this is the rampant re-seeder.  It's everywhere.  It lacks the elegant spurs of its more impressive cousins, but it does have a sweetness of its own.  Reluctantly, I'm adding columbine to the list of things I will not swipe my card for again.

  

The sweet pea flowers had a great germination percentage this year, but they need a little coaxing to reach last year's string.  I snipped some old branches of Russian Sage and stuck them in  to guide the sweet peas in the right direction.  Hope they reach out and latch on.

I looked for it three days ago and decided it was gone, but surprise, Jack is back!  

He plays Hide n' Seek every year.

My Niobe clematis is in its fourth year and gains a little bit in height each year.  This year one tendril may actually reach the top crossbar of the trellis.  I urge it on each morning, saying, "You can do it, it's the last rung!"   Once the blossoms open, the reaching stops.

Undeterred by smelly sprays rabbits are my biggest challenge.  Hank helps me to construct  protectors for all the plants the bunnies like the most.  They will not get the platycodon in the background.  But they have snipped away at a new catanache in the foreground.   I read a "helpful hint" in today's Fine Gardening.  Purchase wire baskets (as in trash baskets) at the dollar store.  Invert over a plant and secure with a couple of U-stakes.  While it won't work for my tall bunny food like Baptista, it will be perfect for low growers like zing rose dianthus.  Much easier than chicken wire construction.  Off to the dollar store....

I'm going to close this post with the most cheerful plant in my spring garden, Snowdrop Anemone "Sylvestris." It just brings a smile to my face.

A Second Chance for Daffies

Inspired by the gardens I saw in the last few days at Longwood Gardens and at Winterthur, it was easy to dream big and jump right into a challenging task today.  The year 2016 seems to be the year that most of my daffodils simply petered out.  Clump after clump was all foliage, no blossoms, such as the one pictured here in the foreground:

 DISCOURAGING!!  But just as I was lamenting my problem, the Albany Times Union garden columnist, Nancy O'Donnell addressed the very issue.  And so, buoyed with coffee, tools in hand, determination in my heart, I set out to follow her advice.

First I dug to a depth below the clump and raised the clump from the ground, being ever so careful not to sever any bulbs.  This was not easy going, as I had put these in along the edge where the lawn meet the woods, where roots have made the soil almost impenetrable.  I discovered that the bulbs had sunk quite deeply into their original nesting spot over the years, which contributed to their failure to bloom.





Once the clump had been removed, I extracted and separated the bulbs. Beginning to feel like I was performing an autopsy, I discovered another reason that the daffodils were tired.  I always plant five bulbs per hole.  The number of bulbs in the planting site had quadrupled, but the size of the bulb had shrunk considerably.  The next task was, of course, to dig three additional holes per clump, to accommodate all.

On to the depth problem.  More meticulous than willy-nilly this time, I laid a stick across the top of the hole, put enough soil in the bottom to place the bulb no more than four inches below the surface, using a ruler rather than my skewed guesswork.  Four inches is a reasonable distance to expect a daffodil bulb to send food up to the surface without becoming exhausted.

Next was to tend to the nutritional needs that would hopefully help them to grow into bigger, more productive bulbs.  As I back-filled I sprinkled bone meal into soil, an application I may repeat in October.  They look a bit scraggly, but the green foliage needs to stay until it browns and can be pulled out gently. It is their food for the next growing season.

I marked each new hole with a tag so that next year I will be able to tell if my efforts were rewarded.  Time will tell.

I love surprises when I garden.  When I crouched low to take a picture, my eye spied  brilliant crimson in the woods, a few feet away.  A trillium - the first I've seen on our little plot of land.




While I worked I was gently scolded by the bluebird who has a nearby nest.  I have waited a long time for bluebirds to start a family  here. I hope he and the Mrs. will forgive me for the disturbance today.

Longwood Gardens and Winterthur

I was able to reduce my wish list by two very special destinations this week - Longwood Gardens near Philadelphia, and Winterthur, just a few miles further in Delaware.  Pierre S. du Pont was an American entrepreneur, businessman, philanthropist and member of the prominent du Pont family.  His engineering background and love of horticulture led him to design the first gardens at Longwood in 1907. He continued to create, create, create for nearly fifty years.  Thanks to his dedication, considerable wealth, and desire to share his gardens with everyone, today Longwood is a public garden with over 1000 acres devoted to magnificent floral displays, fountains and an expansive conservatory.

 

We were there at  the peak of tulip season. Soon the acres and acres of tulips will be dug up to make room for the next blooms of the summer.

Even though most daffodils were past their peak, this variety was still going strong, and with the orange tulips, well they were just showing off, weren't they?

This is one of many "patchwork quilts of tulips.

In the conservatory flowers hung from above wherever I looked.....

HOLY HANGING HYDRANGEA!!!!!

Throughout the conservatory were artistic "en masse" combinations of texture, height, color

And individual blossoms to delight.......

Corridors of flowers, inside and out.

We spent our second day at Winterthur.  

Another du Pont, Henry Francis was a horticulturist and collector. Such a collector, in fact, that this mansion has 175 rooms housing his collections of nineteenth and twentieth century art and antiques.

But because this is a gardening blog after all, I'll stick to the subject.  What is so beautiful about the gardens surrounding Winterthur is the peace, tranquility and natural look.  There are no annuals.  Trails meander through woods, along brooks, under a canopy of trees and over gently rolling hills.  Bulbs, wildflowers, perennials, flowering shrubs and trees were carefully planned, but one can believe that it was God alone who placed them there.

A clump of trillium amongst  anemone.......

And one trillium that found its own special spot to grow.

Children love to run around the open spaces, until they find the enchanted woods, and then they, too, are spellbound.

Resting spots were invitations to take a rest, see the beauty, have a little thinking time.

This is longer than my usual blog, and off the beaten path, but it was so hard NOT to share after such a memorable trip.  It is going to be difficult to go back to posting pictures of MY humble and oft-struggling little garden, but stay tuned...

A PETUNIA TO RECOMMEND

Presenting.......AZTEC petunia, a favorite find of Gardening Season 2015.  This drew my attention while wandering through one of MANY nurseries in June.  Even though it sported only a dozen or so blossoms at the time, it had the whole spectrum of lemon, peach, orange, tangerine, mango.   The very name brought to mind my Mexican ancestors. And so, onto my cart it went.  I knew exactly how I wanted to present it to its new flower friends along the patio wall.  It would be contained  in my old........

 MILKING MACHINE  

In the 50's, before assembly line milking became the standard for efficiency, my father had two milking machines that would work their way down the line of Guernsey cows.  This vessel was hung on a harness or strap that girded the cow's middle.  There was a metal cap to cover the opening of the vessel, and on the cap were four suction cups to attach to the udder to do the work.  I re-potted my plant in a 7" pot which fit perfectly into the opening.  While I expected the usual straggle effect that my petunias tend to give me, this one surprised me.  A bit of pinching now and then, some regular doses of fertilizer, and it filled it out quite nicely.  Shades of pink, lavender, purple and white tend to dominate my Spring and Summer gardens.   But as Summer advances, the Autumn colors begin to emerge thanks to daylilies, sienna sunset coreopsis, helenium, nasturtium and marigold.  And so, as this plant gets bigger it begins to feel more at home.

Best of all, when I look at this I am right back in the original barn of Misty Meadow Farm.  On summer nights it was a pretty big deal to stay in the barn past our usual bedtime.  If we made it to the end of milking, we knew it was very late indeed.  We listened to the gentle whoosh-whosh of the milking process.  We watched my dad pour the rich milk from the machine into the milk strainer. We braided the tail of an agreeable cow.  We stayed away from the hayloft which took on a spookiness at night.  We looked for the wild barn cats to scurry out from hiding when my dad put out a saucer of fresh milk.  And finally, our tired selves walked to the farmhouse in a chorus of crickets and katy-dids.

At $2.49 for the small pot, I would say the Aztec petunia has given me the most bangs for the buck of anything in my garden this year.