Summer in Saratoga

So much to love about Saratoga in the summer. It should come as no surprise that I'm drawn in, amazed and enchanted by the flowers. I've never known a town that loves flowers more! Flowers here, flowers there, flowers, flowers everywhere!! It is a delight to the senses to stroll down Broadway where floral displays show off the shop-fronts........

And their eateries.

There are parks around every corner and it is as if a master gardener could not bear for one to be unadorned. There's the Hathorne Natural Spring......

Saratoga's own "Spit and Spat" in Congress Park.....

A bench is just one more good reason to put in a garden.....

Clock on the corner? Plant flowers!!

The porches of the historic mansions of Union Street

lead to ........

whose flowers here are a fraction of the cascading displays they will be by the end of August.

It's hard to find a base of a tree that isn't encircled with flowers. This one caught my eye. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and I will be duplicating this combination in my own garden next year. I've never been a big fan of Celosia, but this scarlet celosia POPS when next the the New Guinea Impatiens with scarlet eyes. So it's official - I've begun to plan next year's garden

The Fairest Gardener of Them All

Margaret Chapin Frueh

Oct. 10. 1921 - July 20, 2011

This week I said good-bye to my beautiful mother. My words could easily number in the thousands. But because this is a gardening blog, I will write about Mom as the first person to share her love of gardening with me. I'm quite sure she began that sharing by stopping the stroller along the "Mosquito Path" to show me the Daisies, Black-eyed Susans and other wildflowers of the countryside. When I was old enough to walk along the side of the stroller she revealed more wonders to me, like looking for the one tiny little dark blossom in the middle of all the white blossoms on each cap of the Queen Anne's Lace. Or laughing as I turned up my nose at the smell of the Skunk Cabbage. Or probing with a stick to find the spit bug in the middle of the froth on the plant stem. She always kept a flower patch near the back door of the farmhouse. The first crocus blossom was a joyful event to be celebrated; as the pansies were planted, she showed us that each blossom had a face. Nasturtiums and Hollyhocks were favorites of hers. (I've never since known hollyhocks that grew as prolifically as hers.) Even with five children to consume her time, she planted a large vegetable garden, often finding time to can tomatoes, freeze corn, make pickles. Snip-snip from the clump of chives to sprinkle on potato salad. Snip-snip from the mint patch to flavor the lemonade. She delighted in simple gifts. Once a year, when the time was right, my father came in from a mysterious spot in the woods with a special gift for my mom - a blossom from the tulip tree. Mom floated it in a glass dish and we marveled at this miracle. And as if my gift was an equal, she would light up when I pushed my fist of dandelions into her face. Later in life Mom lived in apartment buildings many miles from the farmhouse. She always put flowers next to the steps leading to the apartment. With the same hands that had nourished and loved us, she checked on them daily, nurtured them and talked to them. Her favorite gardens were the ones she snuck in against the rules, for no rule was as abhorrent to Mom as "Residents May Not Plant Ornamental Flowers." How she loved to be naughty!! (As if white landscaping rocks were a good substitute for flowers!) And in her final weeks, even though she was nearly completely blind, I took bouquets from my garden to her beside so that she could smell them, and hear me say the names of all those old friends of hers. She will live on in my heart in so many ways. As I sow, weed, water and reap I will feel her presence with me. I close with this verse attributed to James Douglas:

"It is good to be alone in a garden at dawn

or dark so that all its shy presences

may haunt you and possess you

in a reverie of suspended thought."

My simple gardens will help me to bear her loss.

July in the Garden

July has been, historically, the "Month of the Great Blahs" in my garden. The sweetness of Spring blossoms which were nurtured by early rains are only a memory by July. The second putting forth of blossoms, encouraged by June's shearing back have not yet emerged. Japanese beetles, and a plethora of their garden pest friends chomp their way through foliage. Little diseases pop up here and there which leave me scratching my head. The soil hardens and becomes less hospitable to both my flowers and my camera. But forewarned by experience is to be armed for attack. I've tried to embrace the un-fun aspects of gardening and be more of a problem solver. And I have looked to plants that will actually flourish in this, the hottest month of the year. (And okay, I confess that I'm enjoying and using the "crop" feature of my digital photography as a sneaky way to eliminate patches of brown, defoliation.....)

Annabelle Hydrangea, liatrus and shasta daisy are my July friends.

My Aubrey Johnson daylily, in turn, is a friend to the hydrangea.

More on July's bountiful daylilies in a future posting.

And I finally, finally, have the sweet peas of my dreams.

Inhale, hold that scent to the count of four, exhale.

Astilbe Season

It's Astilbe season!! My shade garden this year has hosted columbine, lily-of-the-valley, astrantia, hosta, japanese fern, coral bell and lupine. But right now astilbe is holding court. Most of my astilbe came from my Pittsburgh garden so I feel as if I am greeting old friends when I see their feathery plumes.

But one astilbe is new to the garden this year. I saw Astilbe "Milk n' Honey" in a slide presentation at the Gardening Seminar I attended in April. It set my heart a-flutter! My husband will attest that on the rare occasion that I get tunnel vision about a plant, not finding it is not an option. I could only find one nursery in a 25 mile radius that carried it. I threw myself at their mercy on the telephone and begged them save one for me. They were happy to oblige. Here it is in its first year. The plumes have the puffiest, softest pink at the base. Only v-e-r-y gradually does the pink climb the plume. I hate to play favorites, but I think this is, shhhhhh, my favorite this year.

Location, location, location

I'm sure I've never before had an astilbe that is shoulder high. This one has blessed me this year. I can only believe that it must be the location, where it gets morning sun followed by filtered mid-day sun followed by afternoon shade. The "location factor" gave me pause to reflect on two comparisons elsewhere in the garden:

This is the sweet pea's "happy spot." They are in good soil which is protected from drying out. Early morning shade, sun most of the day with late afternoon shade. They have reached the top of twine I provided and today I had to string more twine up the railing to keep up with their exuberance to climb. I just can't wait to see and smell their blossoms.

But.... the flip side. This picture was taken at the "other" sweet pea location. When the very brown seedlings (which you can barely see at the base of the trellis) reached their maximum height of 5" and refused to climb I disassembled the whole system. The seedlings did not even dignify a toss onto the compost heap. Live and learn

Last year a friend invited me to help myself to all the myrtle I could dig from his lot. I put small transplants wherever I wanted to cover the foundation. It LOVED this spot on the North side of our house and one year later it has rewarded me with glossy green leaves in abundance.

And this is the myrtle that I planted where there is strong southern exposure. It is struggling, whimpering, begging for mercy. The experimentation and constant moving around are all a part of the fun, the challenge and the mystery of gardening.

Nature's Art

Look closely. Can you see it? It greeted me on my bathrobe garden walk this morning.