So, let's talk containers.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Container Gardening: Consider the Container First
So, let's talk containers.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Agastache (for beginning gardeners)
Whenever I read an article whose target audience is beginning gardeners and whose topic focus is perennials for beginners, I am appalled at the same old, tired recommendations: Enchinea, Rudbeckia, and Sedum. Of course I understand the reasoning, these are easy to grow, fairly fail-proof perennials. They are lovely. I have several types of each in my own gardens. But, please! Give them a much deserved rest. Especially when there are so many other equally as easy to grow choices.
At the top of my list is Agastache. I can't imagine trying to cultivate cottage garden style beds without it. I use it extensively throughout my gardens for three reasons: 1) abundant, constant color, 2) quick to establish lush fullness and 3) upright growth habit. Most species of Agastache are tall, growing between 15 and 36 inches. My first introduction to this genus was the species Agastache Cana Sinning. Superbly outstanding to any other beginner's perennial I've ever tried. Sinning, once established, is both drought and heat tolerant. It reaches an average height of 18 inches. I like to plant Sinning in the middle of my beds. Give it some room. It becomes full and lush very quickly. It's best attribute is its constant, abundant color. Sinning produces lovely lavender-rose hued flowers that bloom all summer.
My favorite of the Agastache Cana is Heather Queen. It produces bright pink sprays of non-stop blossoms from summer until the first fall frost. Heather Queen is tall, between 30 and 36 inches and is extremely hardy. I plant it in my gardens' sunniest locations. By the end of August, it is spilling over and through the picket fence. Breathtaking. I can count on it to look fresh when other flowers are wilting under the summer sun.
Agastache has many admirable attributes. It requires no deadheading to stay in bloom. Bees, hummingbirds, and butterflies are highly attracted by it. The foliage is pungently fragrant, giving off a licorice scent when touched. Most varieties will thrive in poor soils as long as they have adequate drainage.
A word of caution: not all Agastache are winter hardy above zone 5. Check with your own local nursery to see which species is right for your area. I buy mine at the Family Tree Nursery, a full service garden center providing zone 5 plants for Kansas City gardeners.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Pink Girl Tomatoes and other High Yield Vegetables
Pink Girl Tomatoes: I've been growing this variety for sixteen years and I've never wanted for lack of tomatoes. They are unusual in that they set both single fruits and fruit clusters. It's nothing to have five to eight tomatoes in one bunch. They can be a bit fussy to get started because they are not cold tolerant at all. But, once they get growing, I've had vines stand at ten feet tall. The fruit itself is sweet and solid with thin skin and less than average seed production. The fruits are usually about 6-8 ounces but I've had some grow to the size of a softball. I like them for both slicing and cooking. They also freeze well.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Along the Picket Fence: Seven Sisters Rambler Rose
The white picket fence is a thing of beauty, enhanced only by proliferous blooms spilling through the empty space between vertical supports. The following spring after our house was built, we set about installing all the fencing. The fence took our property from barren lot to established residence; the white pickets gave it curbside charm. Then, by adding the curving flow of garden beds to further define the greenspace, our new build became quintessentially characterized.
- To quickly add curving, flowing garden beds without going to great expense, I suggest using rolled edging. This type of edging immediately defines the bed from the greenspace and is essential in the control of weeds. The rolled edging is also a nice barrier to weedeat against.
One of the first perennials I planted along the picket fence was my Seven Sisters Rambler Rose. I can't recommend this variety enthusiastically enough. What a hardy specimen! In the past four years, Seven Sisters has weathered every extreme condition the Midwest climate can dish out. It has tolerated two severe droughts and a horrendous late spring freeze that wiped out some fairly stealthy perennials. The name Seven Sisters is derived from its multiple bloom sets, as many as seven roses per cluster. Often thought of as the romantic wild rose of the Old South, Seven Sisters arrived in Europe, and later in the United States, in the late 1800's from Japan.
Mine begins to bloom around the last week of May and continues typically through the first week of June. From the palest pink to the deepest orchid, the array of color is breathtaking. The double blossoms are profuse and resemble the cabbage rose on a tinier scale. Unfortunately for those of us who cherish this rose, it blooms only once per season.
Just this past summer, my Seven Sisters rose began to send out long, whispy canes. I can hardly wait for spring '09. Imagine the beauty of those double blossoms spilling over the white picket fence.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Bee Aware
I like bees. I'm particularly fond of the honey and the bumble. This past spring, we had a swarm of wild bees come into the garden. I found them a bit too aggressive for my taste but after a while we learned to tolerate each other. I got stung only once. As I was walking across the yard, I scooped one up with my flip-flop. Certainly not the bee's fault.
Unlike the wild bee, the honey and the bumble are fairly amiable creatures. My experiences with them are all good. I love how they move in waves in front of the water wand as we go about our respective businesses of pollen collection and garden watering.
It's amazing to watch them at work. I've seen bees so laden with pollen, its a wonder they could still fly. We can thank bees for about one third of the American food supply annually derived from plant production. Without bees, plants can't set and if they can't set, there goes the garden, the orchard, the farm. I could rant about Colony Collapse Disorder and preach about the perils of food shortages. Instead I'd rather share a few light hearted anecdotes about the bees I've met in my garden.
The bumble is very personable. A noisy, little fellow (actually workers are females but for the gist of the story . . . ) showed up one day and I nicknamed him Buzzsaw. For two weeks, I could tell just where Buzzsaw was located in the garden simply by listening. As if I hadn't noticed him, he liked to approach me and hover at ear level. Then there was the bombardier. I'm certain this poor bumble was nearsighted because he lacked the grace of his peers in flight. He wasn't much of a pilot, crash landing with such momentum the intended target (the flower) of his desire would try to catapult him back into the air. And lastly, there was Sleepy. I spied this bumble in slumber curled like a comma in the center of a peony, wings slightly aloft like rudders navigating the breeze while it slept.
The honey bees tend to be a bit more interesting as groups. I love to watch their ballet over a fragrant clump of red clover or hear their late afternoon concerto as their orchestra tunes up in the sweet basil patch. A couple summers ago, an entire colony stopped to rest in my garden. Apparently something had driven them from their previous home. They huddled in a football -shaped mass around a picket post, vulnerably waiting while the scouts went in search of new accommodations. I was a bit intimidated by their sheer number as I gently watered the flowers around that post. About four days later, right before dusk, the scouts alerted and the entire hive rose as one dark shadow into the sky. I wished them Godspeed. I hope they found a good home.