garden : refugees and autumn clean-up

This autumn found us with a number of refugee plants on our porch that required a permanent spot in the yard. The sad demise of the hydrangea and the clethra twigs at the end of the summer left some space open, and we expanded the planted areas to include spaces in front of and under the azaleas near the house.

There were two main categories of plants: those moved from our neighbor’s yard as she thinned the plants she’d acquired with the house, and those I couldn’t resist bringing home from the autumn plant swap I organized in town. In the first category, I had pink and red mums and a bag of mixed daffodil and jonquil bulbs, the latter of which had spent the summer under the bench on the front porch, a storage method I don’t recommend but which resulted in only a handful of rotten bulbs. The pink mums went in front of the white azalea on the right side of the porch (as you face the house); not that they bloom at the same time of year, but I like to spread the pink around. For a person who really is not a fan of pink, I’m acquiring quite the variety of pink flowers in my garden. The daffodil bulbs I planted under the smaller of the pink azaleas on the left side of the house, under the sassafras. There’s quite a nice patch of ground there, now that the liriope and ivy has been beaten back, and if the daffodils do bloom, they’ll be easily visible from the street. I am not entirely confident that they’ll get enough sun, but they’re easy enough to move (and they certainly weren’t going to bloom from a bag on the porch!).

The last refugee from a friend was a small sage, which I also planted on the right side of the steps. It will probably grow into the space currently occupied by the spring bulbs, which is fine; I’ll move them as needed and it will be nice to have an herb there rather than the bare patch we get when the bulbs die back. None of the perennials I planted on that side of the steps really took, either from lack of sun or competition from the maple roots. I hope the ones in the larger front bed will return next year; we may need to take the more drastic step of burying edging material to keep the small tree roots from encroaching and smothering the flowers.

For the first time this year, Women’s Club members (myself included) organized an autumn plant exchange. The real hit of the swap was the sale of plants by Chesapeake Natives volunteers; the group raised over $300 by selling native perennials for $2 to $6 each. I managed to resist purchasing any—although I will probably replace some of the plants I purchased last spring with native varieties, now that I know where to find them—and came home with only a few flowers that were donated by neighbors. I was pleased to acquire a peach climbing rose and more bearded iris. I have found myself incapable of turning down a free iris, so despite already having some lavender irises waiting to be planted (in a bag, under the bench on the porch) I accepted some white ones and a couple of a fancier variety that combine cream and a darker purple (I think). The irises went into the sidewalk bed, on the end where the space had been cleared for the ill-fated clethra ‘bush,’ and the rose was planted on the southeast corner of the house in the spot that had been prepared for the hydrangea. The iris will look nice on that end of the bed, as it’s the first group of plants you see as you approach the house. I expect that if I’m able to keep the rose alive and create an adequate support for it, it will also look nice anchoring the corner of the bed against the house. Any support will also create some visual structure for that front bed, as everything else currently in it dies down and is cut back in the winter. Just as soon as I get another couple of dry days, I’m going to put the next batch of compost around the plant and cover the whole area with mulch.

In addition to all this planting, I cut back and cleaned up the dying foliage from the summer plants, something I will try to do earlier next year (at least in the case of the peonies). We’ve also completed two rounds of leaf raking, and the ground is covered again. With a little luck we’ll get a dry stretch next week that will allow us to clean them up when they’re a bit easier to manage. Wrestling with a lawn full of wet leaves is not my idea of fun, even by yard work standards!

garden : refugees and autumn clean-up

food : blueberries

The echoing silence around here has been due to our absence. We were off in the Great White North last week, visiting family and collecting blueberries from the family farm. Usually when we arrive this time of year the bushes are laden with fruit, so much so that it’s impossible to pick them all. Along with the fruit, the bushes are typically crawling with all manner of wasps and hornets which feast on the berries as they become overripe. Despite our best efforts each year, we’ve never been able to pick the bushes totally clean.

This year the bushes were the barest I’ve ever seen them; oddities of weather meant that the crop was unusually small. The scarcity when we arrived was also due in part to the decision to allow pick-your-own folks to access the field without set hours; the easy to pick berries at eye and hand level were all gone. Berries remained at the interior of the bushes and at heights that required one of us to stand on a stool while the other held the bucket. In addition to these, some bushes were dotted with second round berries, those that were left to ripen after the bush was picked nearly clean earlier in the season. As a result, we spent more time in the field this year for fewer berries. The weather was gorgeous, clear and much cooler than home, even on the hottest days. It was nice to be outside, and I lost track of time each day as I usually mark the hours passing by the number of berries in the buckets.

Now that we’re back home we’re eating berries in our cereal, I’m freezing some for the winter, and I’ve made one pie and some sauce to go over the angel food cake we had for my partner’s birthday. There’s a recipe for pickled blueberries that seems to be something like a sweet relish or chutney that I’m interested in trying, but I may decide that we don’t have enough berries to spare for that. I remind myself that the berries will grow again next year; I’m sure I’ll be convinced, as I am each year, to share some with our friends.

food : blueberries

garden : clean up

It has finally begun to rain again, which means that the plants are less brown and the rain barrel is filled up again. I was surprised to empty it, and it definitely came in handy during the dry spell. We have yet to set up the second one, although we could have used it. The indoor plants seem to like the untreated water just fine, so that’s a bonus use as well.

Now that the daylilies are done blooming, I took some time to cut out the dead stalks. They now look tidier, but much shorter. I also cut the flowering stems off the lavender, which was time-consuming as I didn’t want to simply shear the plant down. Perhaps in future years; at the moment it looks nice and bushy and more like it belongs in its spot (in contrast to when all the stems were growing nearly horizontally in their attempts to be in the sun at all times).

Besides those two efforts, I have done very little in the yard lately. It’s been brutally hot and humid, but also dry so not much has been growing. The big excitement has been the insects that have discovered the milkweed: we have a whole slew of orange milkweed aphids, and just last week I returned to see a female Monarch flitting around. It appeared as if she were inspecting greenery, but I couldn’t locate any eggs so we’ll have to wait and see if she laid them. On the butterfly front, I’ve had several other small visitors to the garden now that the liatris is blooming, a Horace’s Duskywing and a Silver-Spotted Skipper.

It’s my hope that we’ll get back out in the yard and finish clearing it of weeds in a few weeks, after we go on vacation and the weather cools down. Of course, around here we could be a couple of months waiting for cooler weather. Plenty to do inside as well!

garden : clean up

garden : no rain, no weeds

After one of the coldest and wettest months of June in a decade, we’ve had a cold dry month of July thus far. As a result, I traveled a sine wave of worry and stress about the weeds. They took off in the month of June, creeping into the side beds that I’d covered with leaves and was barely keep clear. At the same time, the clover was overtaking the yard, which is fine in itself but the combination of nitrogen-rich clover clippings and buckets of rain made the lawn a jungle in that needed to be mown far more frequently than I’d like. So, the weeds were neglected and grew and grew along with my stress about whether we’d ever be able to beat them back again.

Then July came and I began to consider the nuclear option. I rejected that choice, but remained stressed about the amount of time the actual weeding was going to take. Enter my partner. Once it was established that we were not going to be poisoning the weeds, he took the weekend before last and went outside and weeded. For two days straight, everything that could be dug out was. He cleared 85% of the side beds, generating two trash cans and four contractor bags full of weeds and returning our backyard to a state more reflective of the hours (and hours [and hours]) of work we’ve put into it over the past three years. I was so pleased!

Since this great de-weeding, it still hasn’t rained which means that nothing is cropping up in the bare patches that we he created. It’s conceivable that we might make actual further forward progress this year; while the clear beds are nice, they’re the beds that we’ve progressively cleared each year, just with a few more stumps and saplings removed. Next up is the patch under the dogwood and sassafras, a corner of the yard that is remote from where the fence will be replaced. I’ve been loathe to add new plants in the areas that will invariably be trampled when we put in the new fence, but I can’t look at all that lovely cleared space without imagining flowerbeds.

For once, the timing has worked out splendidly and we’re looking at a ten-day stretch of thunderstorms in the area. With a little more garden luck, we’ll have a clear enough day on Friday that will allow us to get the second rain barrel installed and the poison ivy sprayed.

garden : no rain, no weeds

garden : resisting the siren call of Monsanto

When I talk with neighbors about our yard, they are uniformly positive about the way it looks. Which I can understand: we eradicated the pokeweed orchard in the back corner; we cut the vines back out of the trees; we’ve pruned deadwood and limbed up the border hollies; and we’ve managed to create relatively weed-free areas around the shrubs and various flowering plants. When I look at the yard, though, all I see are the weeds popping up in the beds we’ve somewhat cleared, the vines creeping back over the fence and up the trunks of trees, the mulberries growing (literally) out of the foundation of the garage, and the poison ivy popping up here and there in back corners. It’s enough to make a girl forget all her principles and just wholesale blanket coat the area with poison, deep-seated hatred of Monsanto be damned.

That’s where I was last week, ready to spray Roundup ™ on everything that was growing anywhere I didn’t want it. I thought, ‘Hey, next week will be hot and dry for the first seven day run all summer, perfect!’ So I started reading more about applying it. Which led me to studies that reminded why I hadn’t used it in the first place: negative impacts on amphibians, the possibility of residues lingering in the soils or harming various types of insects, and scary correlations with miscarriages in women exposed to the spray. Golly.

So, it’s back to the digging up, pulling out, and smothering plan. We’ll still spot-spray the poison ivy, and likely apply some kind of glyphosate to the stumps of the saplings we’re trying to kill. It appears that the universe approves of this change (back) of heart, because it’s delivered me a (literal) truckload of old newspapers that will be put to use in the smothering part of the plan. Just as soon as I read up on how to do that.

garden : resisting the siren call of Monsanto