Margaret Roach - Gardener, Author, Speaker

     Simply put, this is the best gardening book I have ever read, so I was not surprised that my drive to Salisbury Connecticut led me to one of the best gardening lectures I've had the privilege of attending.  Margaret Roach did not disappoint as she spoke upon the same tripod of excellence with which she wrote "The Backyard Parables,"  that of passion, knowledge and humor.  As I began her book several weeks ago, I had only reached page xvi (before chapter 1) when I read,   "Do tackle the philosphical equivalent of double-digging every time you step outside; please do." That was it for me. I tucked my feet under, and read on......and on..........and on.
     From beginning to end, her unbridled enthusiasm for gardening resonated with this gardner.  I know that if she were to come upon me at 7:00 a.m. in my garden, in my bathrobe,  floppy boots  and scissors she would not find it at all odd that I couldn't walk away from something that screamed "DEADHEAD!"  I am the one, after all, who ruined a pair of white shoes while on the way to the car to go to a wedding (and really didn't care.....I saved the vine).   It is because of her passion that she crawled through snow drifts in 7 degree weather to plunge her hand into an icy fish pond to repair a faulty de-icer.  It is this passion that brings out the best and worst in us by writing, "Never stop wanting more plants!!!"
       Margaret Roach honors every moment of  the 365 days a year in her garden as part of a cycle of life - conception, birth, youth, adulthood, death and afterlife.  As we navigate our way through the seasons, we are charmed, entertained and informed in equal doses. Numerous side-bars make it easy to reference the how-to's on numerous subjects from seed shopping to discouraging deer to mosaic underplantings to making refrigerator pickles. I was especially interested in her words on "Phenology,"  the relationship between plants and animals with weather and climate. An example she used was the wisdom of planting peas when the peepers are singing.  Makes so much more sense than "by St. Patrick's Day." I never actually knew there was a word for this.  It brought to mind my father, who probably didn't know the word either, but told us that the time to look for morel mushrooms is when the apple trees are in blossom.
      The writing and the speaking are sprinkled liberally with her humor, often comfortingly self-deprecating.  In this, her 25th year with her garden, she wishes her garden a Happy Silver Anniversary with an apology for being a control freak and critic "walking around with a stupid clipboard."   Preferring to garden in an old pair of khaki pants, she pokes fun at her own legs, which she describes as the "light deprived white asparagus of lower limbs." She admits, like the rest of us, that she greets visitors to her garden with  apologies rather than a welcome, "If only you'd come last week when the big rhodie out back was peaking......"  She advises us with the finesse of a sledge-hammer not to mourn the loss of a plant.............. "Bury your dead and fast."
        Margaret Roach's offerings are woven together with stories of her past, her childhood, her relationships, her memories, all of which support her abiding faith in the seasons of life.  We learn that Jack the Demon Cat was a stray that she found in her driveway at the end of a terrible day, September 11, 2001, when she had driven away from New York City as fast as her car would take her.  We feel the pain and sorrow she experienced when, as a young woman, she nursed her mother through early onset Alzheimer's.  We can understand the tender vulnerability of a relationship with a sister.
     Not to be left out of my barrage of good things to say is her way with words.  An  invasive plant is a plant with "imperialistic tendencies."  The sound of branches snapping from trees during a heavy snowstorm is "arboreal artillery."  Is it no wonder that this is an absorbing book?
    I could not leave the event without asking her to sign my book with my favorite words of hers, which are of course,

Thank you, Margaret Roach, for the book, the lecture, and the advice (not that I ever needed anyone's permission!)

   

February Stirrings

     This is the view from my kitchen window.  When we planned this house, significant consideration was given to the placement of a window from which I could see the garden while washing dishes.  It is within this viewing area that I try to have something that lightens my heart no matter what the season.  In Spring it is the mound of Bath's Pink Dianthus stretching their slender stems toward the stone wall.  In early summer it is the soft but stately apricot iris.  In autumn the Anenome Sylvestris and Helenium Bruno will give joy rather than sorrow about another season drawing to a close.  One year I had planned a pairing of Pink phlox and purple balloon flower to take care of late summer.  But the phlox became mildewed, the balloon flower was just uncooperative. Every time I washed the dishes I saw something that "bothered" me.  And so, OUT with the bad, and in with a favorite white salvia and a couple of friendly daylilies to restore my kitchen window "happy place."
     Now it is late February, the wind has not let up in days, making mid-twenties feel like single digits. But this is what I see.........I see hope!!  The trellis marks the spot of the Angelique Clematis that was afflicted with wilt last year. I cut back all the foliage, the plant disappeared but I will be checking this spot daily when Spring comes, to see if Angelique fought back.
     At times I have felt guilty for letting my blog go during the winter.  I had every intention of featuring   a favorite gardening book or a gardener or two who have inspired me.  But the larger part of me knows that just as the roots and bulbs go dormant, perhaps my blog needs a dormant period, too.  Maybe after eight months of gardening passion my central nervous system or my heart needs a rest.  And that is just what I have taken.
     I think the reason there are bare spots at the base of the plants in the picture is because energy is returning to the roots as they seek the sunshine.  Likewise, I feel the deep inside stirrings.  It is certainly not from warm temperatures.  Maybe it is from longer days of brighter sunshine.  Or that I folded down a few corners of the Burpee Seed catalogue yesterday. Or that I am certain I heard a bird on my walk that I never hear in mid-winter, a sound so surprising and fleeting that I couldn't even place it.  Or that a friend in Connecticut reported the sap will soon be running. Whatever the reason, I am filled with gratitude that another season is just around the corner.

November

"To be interested in seasons is a happier state of mind than hopelessly in love with Spring."

        - George Santayana-

Boo!

     

I snapped this picture just before Jack Frost crept in to kiss my annuals good-bye.   The temps had not dropped below 36 all season until last night when the mercury plummeted to 22, affording very little chance for annuals to survive.  But it is time.  I almost finished all the Autumn chores before Jack's deadline.  Tomorrow I will put away my garden accents and dig up the dahlia tubers for storage.  My back is aching and ready for winter's rest.  My cardboard carton of garden clippings, notes to self, magazines, garden maps, plant labels etc is in total disarray.  There will be many chilly nights ahead for bringing order there.  As a schoolteacher, I loved my work, but looked forward to summer as a time to renew my energy for another year. There was a rhythm there.  And so it is with gardening.  But March will find me poking around where the snow has receded to see if the helleborus likes the spot I moved it to.  And so will begin another season.........

Autumn sighs

 In September we drove to Acadia National Park in Maine.  The sunset from Cadillac Mountain was singularly the most breathtaking natural sight I have ever seen.  Just something about being one of the first in the country to see the dawning of another glorious day...............

Everything about our trip through Northern New England was perfect except for the moment that I dropped my camera on the pavement, smashing the lens.  We replaced the camera rather quickly with a shatterproof update.  But apparently I find gardening guides much more enjoyable and easier to follow than gadget guides;  absence from my blog has been a long one as I attempt to get back to snapping garden pics.  

It has been an autumn for large projects and small projects.  The area pictured below had become painful to look at.  Between "settling" and the lack of a back support for this sloped area, the soil level had sunk far below the wall.  I removed all the plants from the area.  Hank made a most informal wall of bricks along the  back and delivered from my secret supply of dirt five wheelbarrows full of the good stuff.  I reduced the size of the generously spreading dainthus and cerastium and re-planted them in their new level area, along with their neighbors, alchimella, daylily, veronica, and flax.  But the job was not complete until I set my sentimental "Falls Village limestone" back in its proper spot.

I have often said to my children as I marched them upstairs to clean their rooms, "And if it doesn't get worse before it gets better you're not doing a good job!" That personal maxim of mine also applies to big garden projects such as the one pictured below.There had been three mop-head hydrangea just below the windows of our back porch. They had outgrown their space and were smothering the perennials with their four year growth heavy laden with 12 inch blossom heads.  Hank relocated two of them to the back yard (I told him that every horseshoe pit needs hydrangea accents). The largest remaining one was hatcheted into three sections and replanted those in the original spots. All put back together now....hope I haven't led a mass execution of hydrangea.

The window of opportunity for garden work is quickly closing.  Today's tasks were pleasurable.  I planted 38 Ice Follie Daffodil bulbs and 12 very sweet Barrett Browning Daffodils.  Then I continued the task of cutting back perennials to basal growth and cleaning up the gardens.  The compost almost audibly thanked me for the delicious dinner of hosta leaves and stems.

And finally, I did a walk-about, snipping one of every variety that is singing its last song.

The Waning August Garden

The August garden is showing signs of fatigue, but still has enough energy to sport a a blossom here and there.  I'm sharing two favorite August perennials whose colors never fail to give me notice that  Autumn is on the way.  The first is "Sienna Sunset" coreopsis.  Have two, wanted one more in an area of the garden whose palette of color is depleted by August.   Because all branches seem to come from one central root, they are not good candidates for division.  I keep lifting their petticoats to see if there is any logical point of division.  But no.  Because it is not as common as "moonbeam" I didn't dare hope that I would find one to put in this Fall.  But a spontaneous-almost-dangerous hard right at Hewitt's Garden Center lead right to a  healthy one at half price.  EASY SELL - my car danced out of the parking lot.

My other favorite has been with me for a long time, following me from garden to garden.  Here is my faithful Helenium "Bruno."  I do fuss a bit with this early in the season, so that it doesn't get too stalky.  I pinch it back twice before the Fourth of July for fullness, and pinch in tiers so that all the blossoms won't be at the tippy-top.

A  few daylilies are still putting forth blossoms, but they are now relinquishing their "moment" to the zinnias that have been assigned the job of carrying over the season.

The annuals leading to the front door have miraculously survived their given spot of beat-down brutal heat along a concrete southern exposure entry. I have a lovely neighbor who waters them for me when I am gone and I'm quite convinced these annuals like her better than me!

After a period of dormancy in the heat, New Dawn Climbing Rose decided to give me just a few more late season buds, one atop the trellis, and one overlooking the zinnia and Moonflower below the trelllis.

And I end with a "heartfelt" message from the vegetable garden - two cherry tomatoes that grew together to form a heart.  I love my fellow gardeners!