This is how my garden grows...

With all de hustle and de bustle (as Indigo Montoya would say) of late surrounding our Student Exhibition Gardens, it's sometimes hard to remember that I actually have a garden of my own to enjoy. I was able to spend some quality time in it recently and found a few surprises.

You might recall the record-breaking snow we had back in February - this is what my garden looked like then:

And when the thaw came, here's what was left of the veggie garden:

And the ornamental garden:

Not a pretty sight, huh? I was amazed at just how many weeds managed to survive 3' of snow and total saturation. Stupid weeds. As I waged war against them, a few rays of hope shot up out of the ground. Take this Leucanthemum x siberian 'Brightside'. Not looking so bright now, is it? But it survived, and looked as if it was going to make a go of things. Considering that two of its companions bit the dust in last summer's flood, I was quite proud of its tenacity and wasn't afraid to tell it so, even though a few people within ear shot gave me funny looks.

Sadly, the veg garden didn't fare so well. This is what a couple of blizzards and subsequent snow melt will do to an artichoke plant. Can you say, 'mush'?

We also had a freak hot spell in April that threw everything all out of whack. Trees and shrubs that shouldn't have come out until May burst indecently into bloom, bulbs weren't sure what to do with themselves, and the perennials in my garden suddenly exploded. A good spring cleaning revealed the stalwarts and re-established order in the beds, some of which received a new crop of herbs and veggies.

Last year this was the squash bed. This year I planted peas (we're growing several crops to sell to the Terrace Restaurant here at Longwood to help raise funds for our trip abroad which is in - quick check of the calendar - three weeks!!), along with a few rows of carrots and some radishes. A few volunteer seedlings of the fabulous Mina lobata that set the rebar tree aflame are being allowed to stay, so long as they behave themselves (but the bloom is so amazing, I might be willing to look the other way if they don't).

Over on the ornamental side, I was shocked - shocked, I tell you - to see that Leucanthemum living up to its name after all!

I decided to make a few changes in the ornamental garden. In addition to veg for the restaurant, we're growing cut flowers to sell to the floral design classes offered through the Continuing Ed. Dept. Since many of my ornamentals bit the dust last year, I decided to have a go at floral crop production. One square will be the herb garden (many of which will flavor the culinary delights in the restaurant as well as some of my own concoctions). One square will be given over entirely to cut flowers, the third will be a combination of cuts and ornamentals that made it through the winter, like this Tanacetum coccineum 'Robinson's Dark Crimson' which is more of a Dark Fuchsia but I say any flower that comes back this cheerily after being buried under 36" of snow can change its color if it wants to!

The final square will remain ornamental as the perennials and biennials I planted last year are finally showing off. The Cercidiphyllum japonicum previously in this square was given to my housemate, who planted it at his home in neighboring Lancaster County (may the scent of cotton candy always inspire fond memories of me!).

I relocated my container to fill the void and removed the winter greens. Note to self: wear gloves when handling Holly leaves. Some of the cut Cornus branches rooted and leafed out so they're staying. The thyme also regained its variegation and one of my esteemed classmates tells me the Muhlenbergia capillaris is a slow starter so I'm giving it time to wake up before deciding whether or not it gets shovel-pruned. I plan to sow some Sweet Pea seeds in the container and let them ramble up the Cornus. Just to mix things up, I'm toying with the idea of combining annuals with herbs and a veg or two.

And just look at these guys!

These Pansies are no pansies! Who knew such a dainty flower could be so hardy!? These were leftovers from our Greenhouse Management class last summer. Most of those crops were sold at the end of the term with our mums, but there was enough left to share and plant in our gardens.

And here's another pleasant surprise: the Phlomis tuberosa 'Bronze Flamingo' decided to show up after all! I started with three; one croaked, one was seriously set back by last summer's rain and is still lagging behind this one, which seemed to be doing just fine until the 40 mph winds that came through yesterday. I fear it will develop a permanent tilt.

I also discovered what happens when you don't deadhead Verbena bonariensis: you weed Verbena bonariensis. For weeks!

We still have about a week or so before the last frost date so I'm concentrating on prepping the beds for the cut flowers and planting out the veggies that will tolerate lower temps should they surprise us. The extended forecast calls for mild temps with some showers here and there, so I'm pretty optimistic that my garden will grow quite well this year.

The Color of Winter is In the Imagination

Or in a nice container planting.

In my rush to pack and get ready for my trip to CA for our winter break, I neglected to take photos of my winter container. I was pleased with how it came out then, while I was away, it was buried under 20" of snow and battered by high winds before I returned to capture it in pictures! Still, given the abuses cranky ol' Mother Nature hurled at it, I think it came through pretty well!

I decided to keep a few of the perennial plants in the container, such as the Muhlenbergia capillaris, Thymus citriodora argenteus variegata, and the purple Brassica oleracea.

Added to the mix are the sanguine stems of Cercis alba 'Bloodgood', and the sunny stems of Cercis cericea 'Aurea'. The Pink Muhly looked better before the Big Snow; the seed heads were denser and provided a nice feathery pink haze to blur the rigid Dogwood stems. Playing off the red and yellow theme, I added a few sprigs each of Pinus strobus 'Hillside Winter Gold' and Viburnum hupense (shamelessly scavenged from my housemate Gavin's leftovers). Toward the back I tucked in some Picea pungens glauca, compliments of the lovely tree growing next to my house, and a bit of Ilex opaca for its glossy dark green leaves. Besides, what says 'winter' more than a sprig of holly with its bright red berries?

By far the biggest surprise - and I say surprise because I've never had occasion to grow this plant in a climate where the temperature can dip well below the 20's - was the Thyme. Even after several frosts and a blizzard it still looked and smelled amazing! Granted, it's much more silver now compared to the green and gold it was in summer, so I'm curious to see how quickly the color comes back in the spring, but who knew!? I can still wander out to my garden this winter (OK, sprint!) to snip some fresh Thyme to cook with my chicken! How fabulous is that?!

As for the rest of the garden, well, you don't really want to see it. The snow pretty well smushed what was left of the Cardoon and Artichoke, but they may bounce back. Everything else is gone to its winter slumber and even the perennials that do come back may be moved to the front of my house in order to make more room for growing veggies! Since we have a few months yet before the last frost, I've got time to decide exactly what I'm going to do.

For now, when the bleak and dreary landscape get me down and I'm crazy enough to brave the chill, I can go out to look at my winter container and be cheered by its brightness.

A man of words and not of deeds is like a garden full of weeds.

Or so Anonymous says. What Anonymous obviously doesn't know is that the weeds in my garden multiply like rabbits; no sooner do I pull them all out than more spring up in their place. This is what I get for not mulching. But mulch, I discovered, is the perfect winter hang out for the evil pests that devoured most of my garden (another reason not to like Brussels Sprouts).

So, to mulch or not to mulch (she ponders, gesturing her upturned palms in a see-saw fashion); that is the question. Do I mulch and have more pests, or not mulch and have more weeds? Fortunately the garden is ready to be tucked up for the winter and I won't have to worry about it until spring.

In the meantime, the veg garden is quietly going to its winter rest. The Broom Corn has been harvested for its seeds and the tassels put out to dry in the hopes that they will one day find new use sweeping dust from my floor. The sweet corn stalks have all been chopped down and the stumps left to decompose and return their nutrient goodness to the soil. The Marigolds were looking pretty sad to I yanked those, too.

Only a few herbs and the artichoke are still going strong although I've yet to see one flower head on the artichoke. I can't decide whether to leave the few cabbages. I'm told the flowers attract over 20 species of lepidoptera, but some of those are bound to be crop eating savages! Decisions, decisions.

On a recent trip to Philly I loaded up on veg seeds at the flower shop in Reading Terminal Market. New on my to-grow list are leeks, 'Bordeaux' spinach, 'Red Giant' mustard, peppers ('California Wonder' - I couldn't resist), spaghetti squash (inspired by my classmate Gavin who contrived an ingenious little hammock for his), cucumber 'Spacemaster' because I like compact, well-behaved veggies, 'Royal Burgundy' bush beans, and 'Scarlet Nantes' carrots. I'll definitely grow onions and tomatoes again (fingers crossed for better tomato weather next year!), and some Swiss chard (must remember to erect the deer-resistant fortress), and of course sweet corn. I found a red variety in an on-line catalog. "Really red! Really sweet!" the copy read. How could I not try that!? Can you imagine fresh sweet corn muffins with the yellow batter, red corn kernels, green jalapenos, and orange cheddar!? It'll be like eating vegetable confetti! We'll see what else crosses my path either from catalogs or the stores.

Since we are honored to be the first Professional Gardener class that will have a display garden out for all the public to see, keeping our gardens on The Row next year is optional. I opted to not only keep my garden but to see how much produce I can grow for myself from it. Kind of like a CSA for one! But maybe I'll work out a deal with my esteemed classmates who are also continuing to be farmers! To that end, I decided to give up the ornamental portion of my plot and turn it over to veggies. I will, however, have a few select ornamentals for cutting and splashes of color. I MUST have sweet peas in my garden, and straw flower for cutting and drying (another England memory). Marigolds and Nasturtium are supposed to help keep the bugs at bay, and no veggie garden is complete without sunflowers, in my opinion.

And the Mina lobata was such a hit, I can't imagine not seeing it flaming away all summer. Plus the hummingbirds are real fans!

In the ornamental portion of the garden, things still look pretty decent, though the first frost of the season (October 19th) did a number on the Coleus.

The Cardoon, like its cousin, hasn't flowered but the heat we got at the end of summer really gave it a kick start size-wise. It never did achieve the goal I had hoped for of a towering mass of thistledom but here again, I'll blame the weather. Note the particolored mum in the front - that's from our growing project. Some of us had odd numbers of cuttings so we planted them randomly into containers just to see what they'd look like. Pretty sweet, if you ask me.

So, as my thoughts turn to next year, I can't help but think what I might have done differently in my garden. For one, I wouldn't have been so timid about this new climate and just dove on in. If a plant failed, I'd chalk it up to a new learning experience and try again. As it was, my garden got a late start due to my dithering and didn't get any help from the weather, so it could have been better. Secondly, I would have followed my classmates who are from these here parts around at the nursery and taken better note of the things they were buying. Gavin's and Emma's gardens were both stunning, and they know what to look for on this side of the country when it comes to plants! Thirdly, I would have mulched. OK, there, I said it! Mulch!

Looks like I'll be spending lots of time next year finding new and creative ways to keep the pests off my peas!

Coffee. Garden. Coffee. Does a good morning need anything else?

Whilst on my early morning stroll to collect greenhouse environmental data, I stopped to say hello to my garden. It's been a while, what with everything going on lately, and my garden was just a little cranky. I obviously need to get out and spend some quality time with it.

My container garden needs a little fluffing up for fall; the patio tomatoes are done and their space needs to be filled so I threw in a couple of the Coleus that I propagated during my time in Greenhouse Production. Since I've got enough Pansies left over from my Greenhouse Management project I'll pop them in when they're big enough.

I was kind of excited about the Millet...not only is the foliage flippin' gorgeous, the seed heads keep the birds happy!

Probably my favorite part of the container is the Salvia discolor, which I grew in my garden in LA. Back there it would have started blooming in the spring and wouldn't stop. Here, it didn't start blooming until a few weeks ago. In LA, the Black Sage went from a 4" pot to a froth of bloom in a few months. Here, it's still a little spindly and not very full, so I'm eager to see how it overwinters and what it does its second year. Fun stuff, this gardening in another climate!

And then there's the Mina lobata...

See the humming bird? No words needed. I watched the hummer as it flew off and saw this...

The Broom Corn absolutely towers above everything else in the garden! To make it even more spectacular, the seed heads are starting to put on their fall colors. It's awesome!

Over in the northwest quad, the Mexican Hat was having a garden fiesta...

And the Asclepias is in full flower, keeping the Monarchs and Swallowtails happy.

One huge disappointment has been this Tanacetum. My garden in LA had two Tanacetums that I was rather fond of (T. haradjani which looks like a carpet of silver ostrich feathers, and T. 'Beth Chatto' named for the English plantswoman I had the honor of meeting a few years ago). Those Tanacetums thrived on the neglect I lavished upon them. They didn't mind the garden's sandy soil and minimal water, either. Enter the poor Tanacetum in my PA garden, where we've had one of the wettest summers in recent memory. Even though I exercised the same amount of neglect I gave their cousins in LA, the heavier - and wetter - soil here has resulted in a superbly tetchy plant! One of them gave it up altogether and another is thinking about it.

The giant sunflowers are finally starting to aspire to their reputed 12' height (no thanks to the deer nibbling them when they were babies) but they have no hope against the Broom Corn!

Another plant I started from seed is this green Zinnia. It's lovely but needs something to make it pop - a contrasting foliage plant or other blooms. Looks like I'll also have to spend some quality time with a few nursery catalogs!

And since I have a plethora of Coleus, I put some in the garden to liven things up. I am exceedingly pro-Coleus at the moment, and have great plans to multiply my humble collection even more. Imagine how the garden will glow with more of these babies in it!

All silent save the dripping rain

Everyone has been telling me what an usual season it's been here in zone 6b, and I - the zone 10 native - dutifully purse my lips, knit my brows in sympathetic concern and murmur, "Yes, isn't it, though?" as if I have a clue. Because I don't. Not one (but I suspect it was Mr. Gercens in the conservatory with the water wand). I come from the land o' drought where water has to be borrowed from the Colorado River. This thing called rain is quite a novelty for me and there has been lots of it. Not that I'm complaining - there's nothing quite like a ripping thunderstorm to get the blood pumping - but my garden is starting to get grumpy.

A week ago Sunday, this was the view from my front porch:

And the fireworks were pretty spectacular...After the storm blew through, I wandered out to inspect the damage and found most of my garden submerged (yeah, I planned that moat...cough...).

Even C.B. joined me in surveying the carnage and had a hard time finding a way to ford the stream. Most plants made it through and even the corn - which was literally blown sideways - righted itself in a matter of days, but my beautiful Borage bit the dust. I had hoped it would perk up once the soil had a chance to dry a bit, but it gave up and went to that great nursery in the sky. In its place I've planted some variegated Sage and Lemon Verbena, but I'll miss the bees buzzing happily in the pretty blue blossoms.Early one morning I stood and admired how the Mina lobata erupted into flame as the sunlight touched the garden but noticed more damage. The sturdy Mina weathered the storm like a real trooper, sticking out multiple tongues of floral fire in a botanical raspberry at Mother Nature, but it looked a little wiry around waist high.

And I said to myself, "Oh, deer..."
Looks like I'm going to have to hire my classmate, our resident deer hunter, to hide out in my corn maze with his trusty bow and arrow to protect my garden. The deer love to graze their way through, nibbling succulent stems down to nubs so that we have virtually nothing left to show for our gardening labors.
Finding ways to foil the deer is one thing, but for the next couple of days more isolated thunderstorms are predicted which means a soggy garden. I can't very well put umbrellas over every plant so I guess the only thing a gardener can do with Mother Nature is weather it out (bad pun intended) and hope it doesn't stay wet for long. Fingers crossed!

Don't even think about it, cat!

Ceci n'est pas un jardin

Poet Laureate Alfred Austin once said, "Show me your garden and I shall tell you what you are." It's been fascinating to watch our student gardens grow and to note how much they reflect the personality of the designers. Since I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm no designer, my ornamental garden has been more of an experiement. A collection. A non-garden, if you will.

When faced with 225 sq. ft. of nothing I did what any intelligent non-designer would do; I procrastinated! Consequently, my garden is lagging a bit compared to my esteemed classmates' gardens but then I'm the only one from west of the Rockies and my sense of when to plant what in zone 6b is slightly askew. So, after much dithering on the lawn, I finally set about making my garden.

The beginning: a square, some brick, a container, and a tree. I was rather pleased with my 'draw bridge', which is nothing more than a long stone slate set ever so slightly outside the boundary of the garden. The sharp edging forms a slight depression under the stone where I hope a friendly bad-bug eating toad will condescend to make his home.

Initially I thought it would be fun to have a distinct theme in each quadrant but that light bulb in my brain refused to fire up no matter how many times I flicked the switch. The other issue was the bounty of plants generously donated by Longwood in the form of production extras or plants past their prime and not fit for display in the public gardens. Not being one to refuse free plants, the idea of a theme had to be chucked out the window because I couldn't count on receiving a collection of, say, ornamental grasses gratis. I could, however, put an exclamation point in each quad with the plants coming my way.

The southeast quad is home to what I hope will be a towering Cardoon. Since I planted it late and the weather's been slightly left of normal, it's not shooting up as quickly as I thought it would. I anticipated it to take up quite a bit of space, hence the bareness around it. Salvaging yet another rebar tree, I started seed of a Thunbergia alata 'White-Eyed Susie' to grow on it, thinking the white blossoms would glow in the moonlight and be a soft backdrop for the jagged leaves of the Cardoon. Below the tree are planted some Caryopteris ‘Inoveris ‘ Grand Bleu ™, a gift from one of Longwood's Mum experts, Yoko, in the nursery. In time they will become a nice little hedge with misty blue flowers.On the southwest side, another nursery gift, the Cercidiphyllum japonica, takes center stage. This tree will eventually reach 40' - 60' in height and width. We saw a jaw-dropping specimen at the Morris Arboretum that could easily house a Swiss family of Robinsons. It is reputed to have spectacular fall color and the scent of caramel or cotton candy. Since this tree was unknown to me until I came to PA, I can't wait to find out!

Also in this quadrant are some Hemerocallis 'Stella d'Oro' from my friend and future boss Gavin, some green zinnias I grew from seed which came from my housemate's garden in suburban Philly, a couple of Phlomis tuberosa 'Pink Flamingo' (one isn't doing so hot - I suspect it got trampled by a nocturnal critter with evil intentions), some Shasta Daisies and a Sulphur Buckwheat. The Phlomis and Shastas are also taking their sweet time but should fill up quite a bit of space once they decide to get on with it.The northwest lot is the wild child, which I tried to keep somewhat contained with a boundary of Marigolds.

The Verbena bonariensis is going gangbusters and the Asclepias plugs from the nursery are starting to compete. They're also beginning to attract aphids but I refuse to spray with anything because there are also Monarch caterpillars in residence (oh, sorry, forgot my entomology training already - Danaus plexippus larvae). There are Easter Lilies planted along the rear border that should be trumpeting this time next year as well.

Some Ratibia columnifera 'Mexican Hat' and Tanacetum coccineum 'Robinson's Dark Crimson' lend a meadowy feel, while I was pleased as can be to watch two humming birds duke it out over the blue Salvia.

You might notice the forlorn little stem in the center. That was supposed to be the Exclamation Mark. I started some Heirloom Titan giant sunflowers from seed that would have reached up to 12' tall...until Bambi invited some friends over for supper. It's a goner, so in its place will go a nice Pennisetum from Gavin's collection. There are three other sunflowers behind the herb bed and so far they haven't been nibbled but next year they're getting planted with some sturdy lengths of bamboo to hold them up. The storm that rolled through last week really did a number on them. Don't even get me started on what it did to my corn!Probably my favorite corner is the Herb Garden. Surrounding the container garden are a variety of herbs, some of which I'd grown before, some not.
The Borage were a gift from my new friends the Rebers, and had self sown in their garden. Now that they've filled out and are bedecked with lovely blue flowers, they absolutely throb with bees. The Fennel was intended to attract butterflies and their larvae but I've yet to find any. Meanwhile I enjoy the feathery texture and sunny blooms.
The Chamomile is in full bloom and the Stevia is happy as can be. I've been using Stevia powder to sweeten my coffee and tea for ages, so I'm interested in learning how to harvest the plant for its sweetening abilities.In the container, the smoky foliage of the Pennisetum glaucum 'Purple Majesty' plays well with the two Datura (one dark, one light) and the Salvia discolor. A couple of container tomatoes succumbed to the deer but the variegated silver Thyme has moved in to fill the void.
One of my favorite ornamentals, which is actually in the veg garden, is this Mina lobata, also called 'Firecracker Vine' or 'Exotic Love Vine'. I first saw it at Great Dixter in England and knew right then and there I had to have it. I bought seed from Dixter's shop and voila! A bit of England in my garden. The inflorescence starts off with the colors of the sunset that fade to pale cream as the flowers mature. The hummingbirds adore it, but so does Bambi and friends.
As the student gardens are meant to be teaching as well as learning gardens, labels are a mandatory accessory. The only rule was that we had to have them, what we made them with was entirely up to us. Shannon used pieces of cork, Gavin used seed pods from the Kentucky Coffee Tree and a silver Sharpie, Steven paid exhorbitant sums for fancy copper labels, Suzanne made hers on the computer and laminated them. I recalled the black plant labels I saw in the garden at Coton Manor and how sharp and sophisticated they looked. They also blended into the background during the winter months and weren't as obtrusive as glaring white labels. Another bit of England I had to have! Apparently, only England sells them because I couldn't find a US distributor so I did the next best thing and bought a can of black spray paint. Several painted wood stakes and a white paint pen later, I had labels!

So, my garden is limping along while I learn more about the climate here, how plants I know behave differently than in zone 10, how plants I don't know behave period, and what I enjoy growing. Just between you and me, I'm getting such a kick out of being a first time farmer that the ornamental garden tends to get short shrift. Which is why I'm already planning for next year. In the meantime, I'm still in awe of how quickly things change - every week it's a new garden! And I get a kick out of watching the variety of birds and how they immediately made themselves comfortable on my steel trees.

The thing I'm still unsure of is what, exactly, my garden says about me (other than I'm a schizoid non-designer plant geek). I wonder what Alfred would say...