garden : mystery flowers, lily refugees, and stumps


White mystery flowers.

There are these little white flowers that spring up all over our neighborhood in late spring. For a long time I thought they were spring star flower; now that I’ve received some ipheion from a neighbor I can see they’re different. I now believe they are zephyr lilies, however the most commonly described variety appears to be only one flower per bulb without branching stems and are listed as blooming in autumn. They could be a native regional variety in the same family; I haven’t been able to tell from photos whether this variety has a branching stem, although the habitat description certainly fits with our town. At any rate, I moved several clumps of them out of the lawn last year and into the small bed with the daffodils, on the right side of the porch steps. Only two bulbs sent up flowers but the greenery did quite well; as with the crocuses, I’m hoping to get many more flowers next year.

In addition to puzzling over these little white flowers, I spent some time this weekend transplanting perennial lilies from my neighbor’s front foundation beds. The folks who owned the house before her planted hundreds of spring bulbs through their flower beds a couple of years ago, and the lilies in particular are now coming up everywhere. True lilies are not my favorite flower—I find the scent overpowering—however, in the spirit of providing a refuge for the neighbors’ flowers, I took some and planted them along the back fence behind the peonies. Of course, as soon as I had them in the ground I became paranoid that they would bring black mold with them that would destroy the carefully nurtured peonies just as they’re ready to flower for the first time. This is the life of a novice gardener; never being quite sure that what you’re doing is really the best thing for the plants, always fearing that you’ve missed some crucial piece of information in the one gardening book you chose not to consult. In this case, nurturing the peonies has meant weeding around them, clearing the mulch off the crowns in early spring, and otherwise leaving them completely to their own devices. I’m sure it will be fine, and I can always resort to spraying toxins if things get completely out of hand. Not that I’m likely to go that route, but it sometimes helps to remind myself that the nuclear option is there, anchoring the other end of the continuum.

While I was busy moving lilies, my partner was hard at work removing stumps. You may remember that we are still in pioneer mode when it comes to the beds in the backyard, dedicating enormous amounts of time, energy, and sweat to clearing the various sapling stumps, pricker bushes, grapevines, English ivy, liriope, violets, Virginia creeper, and last but certainly not least, poison ivy. The way that works is that we work together with the spade to clear several yards of ground of anything that can be easily dug out, and then my partner spends hours toiling alone with the landscape bar and the tree saw to uproot the pricker bushes and tree stumps. Sometimes we invite friends over for this process, have a beer afterwards, and call it a party. Last weekend it was just us, and it was only the two stumps; nothing like two years ago when we did battle with the pokeweeds for what seemed like months and was really just days. As it has been every year, my goal is to have the side beds cleared of weeds and under mulch by the first frost. Why give it up? It’s a good goal!

We all have to have something to strive for, and my something is a yard bordered by flat brown stretches of bark chips. When that day finally arrives, I’ll be glad to move on to a goal involving actual plants. For now, the front yard is where I am able to fulfill my desire to have living, growing, flowering plants, and I let the backyard be where the killing happens.

garden : mystery flowers, lily refugees, and stumps

garden : ground is prepped and azaleas are coming in

We seem to have the latest-blooming azalea varieties on our block, which leads us to wonder each year whether we’ve done something wrong and the bushes just aren’t going to bloom at all. However, except for immediately following the drought, they’ve always come through; this week the color of the buds is finally visible, casting a faint sheen on the entire shrub.

After a long day of digging out roots and mixing in hummus last weekend, the foundation bed is reasonably prepared for the plants that are due to arrive in the first week of May. I made a date with a friend with a child to plant the bed on the morning of Mother’s Day, and I’m hoping to have the plants well in hand by then. In the meantime the rain is doing a wonderful job of integrating the soil, and the robins are busily attempting to eat all my worms as they come up for air in the exposed earth.

Once that bed is planted, I’ll integrate into it some of the bearded irises I inherited last year. I’ve been marking the stems as they bloom to identify the colors, but haven’t yet decided if I’ll move the white or purple ones. I’ll likely wait another month or so to see how the bed looks when the flowers start coming in; there’s a limit to how well even I can visualize a future space filled with flowers I’ve never grown before!

garden : ground is prepped and azaleas are coming in

garden : what a difference a year makes


The lavender, when I first planted it last year.


The lavender, today.

When I created a spot for the lavender at the side of the porch steps last year, I was so proud of myself for keeping it alive in a pot inside all winter. Yes, it was a little wilted, and yes, it needed more sun and hadn’t grown as much as I’d envisioned. Still, it was larger than it has been when I bought it and it seemed fundamentally healthy. Looking at the plant today, I am embarrassed to even admit that it’s the same one I planted last year. How pathetic last year’s plant looks, and how enormous this one is! I had imagined it filling the spot and becoming large and vigorous like some of the others I’ve seen around town; I had no idea that might happen in a single year. Every time I see the small herb that’s quickly becoming a shrub I’m glad I put it in the ground when I did.

Having it in a spot we pass every day is also a useful reminder to stop trying to grow perennial herbs in pots; while the sage survived the winter the (second) rosemary did not and the thyme is beyond pathetic. One of this year’s tasks is to determine a spot where the herbs will have enough sun and room to grow long-term and plant them out into the ground.

garden : what a difference a year makes

good finds at the farmers’ market


Two plants waiting for their spot in the ground.

This week was the second of my local farmers’ market, and I found much to tempt me. You might think that having 70 plants on order would have satisfied the desire for flowers; you would be wrong. I managed to escape with only two Bee Balm plants; if I’d had more cash and an actually-developed plan regarding where the culinary herbs are going to go it would have been a lot worse. However, I was glad to find the Bee Balm, as it’s a plant I wanted to include in the garden and hadn’t found in the catalogue from which I ordered. And, I have that little spot around the corner that needs filling in; I think the Bee Balm will nicely bridge the gap between the (soon to be two varieties of) irises and the wee white azaleas.

In addition to the flowers, I bought dairy products from the new dairy vendor, J-Wen Farms. The cheese looked too good to pass up, and my choice was (what’s turned out to be) a nice sharp cheddar. I’ll definitely be trying their various goat milk selections in the future. I also bought milk for my partner, and we’ll see if he likes it. I’m happy to support a local option for pastured hormone-free not-ultra-pasteurized milk if the quality is there. All those things plus organic would be ideal, but cows that rotate into a fresh paddock every day all summer are close enough to the mark for me to give it a try.

I didn’t buy any produce as we’re still working our way through the last of our winter CSA greens, and I won’t be buying much next week since we’re going out of town for a week just two days after the market. No doubt there will be many more options when I return in the first week of May; asparagus is nice, but I’m more looking forward to the appearance of sugar snap peas.

good finds at the farmers’ market

garden : rain perks everything up


Grape hyacinths in the crocus bed, with super-long grass in the background.

Now that everyone’s tulips are in bloom, I think it’s safe to say I won’t be getting much out of the bulb transplants in the little bed around the lightpost. I know that you’re not supposed to move them in the spring (for this reason) but I was quite sure I’d forget where they were if I waited. Penance is waiting until next year to see what kind of narcissus I unearthed in the backyard last spring. In the meantime, the perky little grape hyacinth that I love and everyone else finds a total nuisance did bloom and will no doubt spread their invasive seeds back into the yard via their friends the birds. That’s nature for you.


Little white azalea in its new spot by the chimney, with creeping phlox in the background.

In a rare feat of perfect timing, we moved the wee white azaleas into their new spot (on the south side of the house by the chimney) just in time for them to enjoy several days of steady soaking rain. I’ve left the drip hose there because I’m lazy, but I only used it for a half hour after we put them in place. The phlox, a native type that I’ve forgotten the name of, are already happier there than they were all last summer; they pretty much baked nigh unto death in the place where I’d had them. What can I say, I thought (1) the foundation bed was shady and (2) the azaleas would grow larger and shade them. I’ve atoned by moving them, and it looks like I’ll get several flowers on each plant, which is a pleasant bonus.


The star flowers perked up right away, and loved all the rain we got this week.


This is the perked up version of the clethra twig I (hope I) kept alive inside all winter.

The rain was also good for all the plants I moved around into and out of the front bed last week. The spring star flowers are happy and upright, despite me daring to divide them, and the iceplant has already reoriented itself toward the sun and doesn’t look quite so obviously like someone sheared it in half with a spade. The clethra—Summersweet in the local vernacular—is actually doing well, too, although since it continues to look like a bare twig it’s harder to tell. I take it as a good sign that it hasn’t simply withered away to nothing, and if I peer very closely I can see what seem to be pre-buds along the stem. Very closely, and it’s possible that I’m just seeing reflected light, but I’m hopeful. So, with the native moss phlox blooming and everything else settling in, the bed is starting to look halfway decent. I’m quite excited to see how it looks when I get the bottom row of white carpet phlox in place and the mulch all cleaned up off the sidewalk; I’m just leaving it now to try to avoid losing actual soil.


The current state of the bed along the sidewalk; you’ll have to view the full image to be able to read the labels, sorry.

garden : rain perks everything up