Suburban Sanctum

April the Idiot

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 13:54:00 +0000

“April comes in like an idiot,
babbling and strewing flowers.”
–Edna St. Vincent Millay

Well, I’m not sure it’s so idiotic, but April certainly is strewing flowers! Or, if not flowers, then lots of shoots that will eventually bloom. Here are some of the pleasant surprises in my garden beds lately.

The hyacinths are nicely budded out…

The ‘Pink Giant’ Chionodoxa (a gift from my friend Stephanie for a certain BIG birthday) are just about ready to go…

And the ‘Ice Follies’ Daffodils have been going strong for a while now.

Hooray! Mr. Squirrel did NOT find all of my lily bulbs. It looks like most of them are coming back, except for a couple I was pretty sure he had carted home for dinner.

I am also breathing a sigh of relief over Ligularia ‘The Rocket.’

I had planted one of these in the same spot a couple of years ago (the only part of my yard that is moist enough for it), but it did not survive the winter. This time, I mounded soil over the crown for a little extra protection, and it looks like it worked! It’s hard to believe these tiny little leaves will soon be several inches across.

Aquilegia seedlings are bursting forth everywhere, mostly because I helped with some of the “strewing” in this case.

I hope these will look like their dearly departed mother, Aquilegia ‘Cardinal.’ She was a real beauty.

But Columbines are notoriously promiscuous in their cross-breeding. With my luck, the babies will all take after the common blue variety from the other side of the yard.

Perhaps my greatest thrill (doesn’t take much for us gardeners, does it?) was finding these poppy seedlings—about 16 at last count.

I’ve been trying to establish a patch of poppies in my garden since we moved here almost five years ago, but with no luck. Mr. BrownThumb suggested scattering the seed over the ground in February (even over snow, if need be). I had dutifully been planting them after the last frost, as suggested on the seed package. (For the record, I recently did an informal survey of poppy packets in three different garden centers. Only one suggested planting them during the winter.) Thanks, Mr. BT! It looks like it worked!

Now I’m just crossing my fingers that they will come out the right color. They’re supposed to be Shirley poppies—nice soft pinks, reds, salmons, and whites. The last time I got this variety to grow, all but one came out bright orange, and I don’t do much orange in my gardens. I ripped them all out (after they bloomed but before they set seed) except the one pink one, and of course it didn’t multiply. Maybe I cursed myself to several years of bad poppy karma?

Yes, there are lots of pleasant new developments in the garden every time I venture outside during this idiotic, flower-strewing month. But there are a few less-pleasant developments as well…

I guess these devilish not-so-dandy-lions were bound to show up sooner or later. But did it have to be so early? And right where I just mulched to prevent them?

I’m also disappointed that no tulips are blooming yet. Yesterday, I pulled out my garden journals from 2005 and 2006 (the last years I tried keeping a journal: in both cases I started out with a bang, then quit by the end of June). Back then, my species tulips were blooming away by now. This year, the buds are just beginning to emerge. I’m not sure what to attribute the difference to, but I am certain they will soon add their rainbow splashes of color to the landscape.

And then, no doubt, I will be the one babbling and gushing over them like an idiot.

Return to Mulch Mountain

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 14:08:00 +0000

Saturday was the day. One of the big, red trucks of spring came and deposited four yards of beautiful mulch at the end of our driveway. And I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day either. Sunny, temps in the 50s… I had a great time shoveling, hauling, and spreading the rich, earthy stuff into all the garden beds. I even got one of the Sprouts to help…for about 15 minutes.
Sure I’m sore now, but it’s a “good sore,” as they say. And it’s a sore accompanied by a great sense of accomplishment and satisfaction when I think of all the benefits for my flowers—weed deterrence, moisture retention, soil nourishment. It’s worth every ache and pain.

For the past seven or eight years, I’ve been using the free mulch offered by our village’s public works department. It’s ground from all the wood they gather in tree pruning and storm clean-up, as well as from discarded Christmas trees. There’s a three-yard minimum and you pay just $10 per yard for delivery. You can also go any time and pick it up yourself, at no cost. I used to do this all the time before I traded my fuel-slurping SUV for a teeny little gas-sipper. Now I can’t haul enough to make it worth the trip.

I’ve always been very happy with this mulch. It’s well aged, so it’s about half-composted by the time it comes to me. (It sits in HUGE piles in the public works yard. When it’s delivered, you can still see the steam rising off it from the composting process at work, and it actually feels hot to the touch.)

My plants—and the earthworms—seem to love it. It’s not treated with chemicals, like much of the bagged stuff at the Box-mart, so it continues to break down and feed the soil once it’s in place. Some sources say it robs nitrogen from the soil as it breaks down, but my arborist neighbor assures me that this is true only if you mix it into the soil.

I usually prefer to spread mulch a little later in the season, when the ground has had a chance to warm up and when I can tell more easily where my plants are. However, the delivery schedule fills quickly and you take what you can get. Right now, it’s a bit of a guessing game where the perennials are, though I have markers on most of them, which helps. (My neighbor, Maya, still laments the first spring in her home, when she “mulched to death” many of the perennials left by the previous owner. She’s since replaced them many times over, though.)

I also have to be careful in areas where I have self-seeders, so I don’t smother any potential seedlings. I’m already seeing lots of new Corydalis and Aquilegia babies. I put down 3-4 inches elsewhere, being careful not to place it too close to stems and trunks. Coreopsis, dianthus, mums, and a few others especially dislike having soggy feet. I leave a wide girth for them so they won’t rot.

Last year I only ordered three yards and did not have enough to cover one last bed in the back. I spent the whole summer pulling garlic mustard, thistle, and hordes of other nasty weeds that wander in off the field behind us. It’s well worth the extra $10 for that reason alone.

Did I get all four yards distributed? No, I’m about halfway. And here’s what the pile looks like today, thanks to yesterday’s lovely weather:

Ah, spring. Do ya think you could make up your mind to stay put for a while?

Budzapoppin'!

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 17:43:00 +0000

Sunday was about the best spring day you could hope for here: temp right at 60 degrees, sunny, no wind. So I did what any gardener worth her salt would do: I got myself outside and worked all afternoon.

I did a rough clean-up of about two-thirds of the garden beds, and as I cleaned, I noticed many small signs of emerging life.

This is striped, or Lebanese, squill (Puschkinia libanotica).

It’s a pretty little thing if you can get down low enough to see it. It’s much smaller than the package photo would lead you to believe. If all 25 of them had sprouted, they might make a better mass impact, but only a handful got past the squirrels (or maybe they don’t like the soil under the white pine?). They’re supposed to naturalize well, but I only planted them two years ago. It could take a while…

I think this may be another variety of squill, though I didn’t plant it:

I think it hitchhiked its way in with a passalong daylily from a friend. I hope it stays and raises a large family.

These are Siberian squill (Scilla siberica) just popping forth under the crab tree in the front:

After three or four years, they’re beginning to fill in nicely. I’m hoping they will eventually make a thick blue collar around the tree.

I also found lots of new shoots on the dwarf, bearded, and Siberian irises, as well as all the daylilies. And I was delighted to see the tiniest leaves of Corydalis, Dicentra, and Tradescantia, still too small for a decent photo with my cheap camera and mediocre skills. I even noticed a few hosta nubs here and there. Many shrubs have buds as well, including this young ‘Excel’ lilac:

Of course, the daffodils are ready to burst forth in all their golden glory…

This is Alchemilla mollis ‘Auslese’. It’s hard to improve on Mr. McGregor’s Daughter’s description of these as ballerina wanna-be’s. Don’t they look just like frilly little tutus? A few drops from a gentle, early morning rain make a pretty pearl trim.

Not to be left out of the show, the red maple’s plump buds stand out beautifully against the water behind her.

Sea Thrift (Armeria maritima ‘Splendens’) is still sporting her winter blush, but I think there’s some green in there too.

From here on out, I’m sure there will be something new to discover every day. I hope you are enjoying many pleasant surprises in your own garden. (Don’t worry, Jodi! Your glaciers have to melt eventually, and you’ll catch up before you know it!)

Johnny Crocus-seed

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Wed, 18 Mar 2009 14:43:00 +0000

They’re here! They’re here! After weeks of watching gardens burst into bloom in warmer climates, I finally have a few tiny blossoms of my own.

My son (then 10) helped me plant these crocuses back in 2004—our first Fall in this house. I worked my way through the flower beds digging small holes here and there. He loaded his hoodie pocket with corms, then followed me around like Johnny Crocus-seed, scattering kernels of future beauty as he went. (Every once in a while I can get him interested in a little task like that.)

We planted over 200 corms all together, of several varieties purchased at local Box-Marts. But as Alan Armitage so aptly puts it, “A crocus is a crocus is a crocus.” Most of them look pretty similar.

Still, for those who like to know these things, here’s what we planted. About a hundred of them were C. tommasinianus ‘Ruby Giant’.

Don’t be fooled by her name: there’s nothing large, nor even red, about this Ruby. All “giant” means is that she is bigger than other tommasinianus crocuses. But what she lacks in size she makes up in vigor. Tommies are supposed to be the fastest multiplying variety of crocus. They’ve certainly spread nicely here. They’re also known as “snow crocuses,” which tells you something about how early they bloom.

Another 50 were C. vernus ‘Pickwick,’ a slightly larger Dutch crocus that has silvery-lavender flowers with darker purple stripes. The vernus varieties are supposed to be among the later-blooming crocuses, and indeed this is the only one open in my gardens so far:

Then there were 80 of unnamed mixed species: purple, white, yellow, and striped.

I’m pretty sure that not all those original crocuses survived (Mr. Squirrel undoubtedly made off with his cut), but those that remain have formed nice little patches here and there. I’ve read that they don’t like wet feet, and it’s true that my happiest ones are in raised, well-drained areas.

Thus begins spring. It’s not much so far, but I’ll take it! Besides, big things grow from small beginnings, right? There’s a whole lot of hope packed into those teeny, tiny flowers.

Miracle Muscari

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Sat, 14 Mar 2009 19:27:00 +0000

Around this time last year (maybe for Easter?) my good friend Maya gave me a small pot of blooming grape hyacinths. After enjoying them on my kitchen counter for a while, I intended to plant them out in the garden. When they began to decline, I stuck them in a corner of the patio… and promptly forgot all about them.

A couple days ago, during a brief warm spell, I made a circuit of my gardens to see if anything was sprouting yet. And… yippee!...there are many signs of life, including crocuses...
daffodils...

and species tulips.

I took note of myriad clean-up jobs that await me, once the weather warms up for real: dried stalks and stems to be cut back, misplaced mulch to be returned to its proper place after our recent heavy rains, windblown leaves and debris to be raked out of corners…

But what’s this? Where did this little pot come from?

I picked it up, pulled the dried plant stuff from the top, and found this:

Puzzled, it took me a minute to dredge up the memory of that pot of muscari from last spring. It must have been rolling around out there in the wind all winter long—and we get some mighty strong winds off of the reservoir behind us, as I’ve mentioned before. How these little bulbs survived—or even stayed in the pot!—is beyond me.

The pot is a very thin plastic, and there’s not much soil in it. It would be like setting a package of bulbs on the ground for the winter and expecting them to sprout. All I can think is that they must have had just enough snow cover to protect them during the worst parts of the winter.

It’s a humbling sort of experience for a gardener. We plan and prepare to get our precious babies ready for the coming cold, yet these forsaken and unprotected little miracles did just fine on their own. Who do I think I am, that they should need me?

“Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower—but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.”
—Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

Road Trip

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Sun, 08 Mar 2009 18:17:00 +0000

This is the week of the Chicago Flower and Garden Show, and I had been planning all winter to go and bring back fabulous photos to show you. But alas, our much-delayed kitchen remodel has finally become a reality, and I’m stuck here babysitting the work crew. If I’m not around, questions tend to get answered the wrong way, if you know what I mean.

Instead, you get some photos of a recent trip the Suburban Sprouts and I made to the Friendship Park Conservatory, in nearby Des Plaines, here in Chicago’s northwest suburbs. The Sprouts (ages 11 and 13) were on the last day of a four-day weekend and were a little stir-crazy, so I posed the idea and surprisingly they were up for it.

I had read about the conservatory in a number of local publications and had wanted to check it out. I knew it would be no Garfield Conservatory, but the website had a couple of nice photos.

All in all, it was okay. It was a 30-minute drive for us, and I wouldn’t recommend going out of your way to see it if you live further than that. It’s one not-so-large room, with one loop around, which my kids toured in about one minute flat. Then we went back and took a closer look. Most of the greenery seemed like larger versions of plants I have in my own house—nothing terribly exotic.

They did have several varieties of orchid, but most were looking a little tired, and all were identically labeled “#84, orchid.” Here are the only two that still looked half-way decent.

They did have some enormous begonias—I think. Many of the plants were unlabeled.

When labels were in view, they kind of messed up a good photo op.

The trunk of this tree philodendron was interesting, with its “owl-eye” pattern of leaf stem scars…

… and its aerial roots wrapped around the base, looking a little too snake-like for my comfort.
The Sprouts enjoyed the koi pond next to the bridge at the “high” end of the room…

But I’m sure their favorite part was romping in the nearby playground afterwards…

Or, on second thought, the stop at Dairy Queen on the way back home.

It was no Flower and Garden Show, but it was a pleasant afternoon. I noticed a lot of perennial beds outside, so I may sneak back in the summer to take a peek at those. The outdoor pond circled by an electric train (plus the playground…and the DQ) may be enough to lure my kids back too.

In the meantime, I hope somebody else posts a lot of photos of the show, so I don’t feel like I totally missed out. (Mr. BrownThumb and Mr. McGregor’s Daughter, I’m counting on you!)

Get Your Blotanical Fix

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 19:12:00 +0000

For the past day or so, many of my garden blogging friends have been in an uproar. “Where is Blotanical? Why isn’t it coming up? It’s been ‘suspended’? When is it coming back? Where is Stuart?????”

To the uninitiated, the fuss may have seemed puzzling. But to those who have joined the Blotanical community, this was a BIG DEAL! I saw words like “hooked,” “addicted,” “morning fix,” “withdrawal symptoms,” “fish out of water,” and “panic” flying everywhere I looked.

It turned out to be a temporary downtime, of course—undoubtedly allowing creator Stuart Robinson to make Blotanical even better than it already is. All is fine now, and we're breathing a collective sigh of relief. For many of us garden bloggers, Blotanical is our main link to each other. We can show off our successes, vent our frustrations, plead for help with a troubling plant, or just enjoy each other’s company for a spell.

If you are not yet acquainted with Blotanical, I encourage you to scoot on over and check it out. And you don’t have to be a blogger to enjoy it, either. You can sign up (at no cost) as either a blogger or just a “civilian” member and partake of its numerous features.

Blotanical offers many ways to find and stay connected with other gardeners. One way is to search by location. I have enjoyed comparing notes with other bloggers right here in the Chicago area. Or, when I’m feeling adventurous, I can pick any part of the world and escape for a virtual tour of bloggers’ gardens there.

A search feature allows me to find all postings on any topic I care to dream up. And there are lots of other ways to sort blogs and postings, as well, including most recent, most popular, and posts by new bloggers. If I like, I can choose a list of favorites, so I can always find them easily.

As a new kid on the gardening blogger block, I have greatly appreciated the extra exposure my blog has received through Blotanical—not to mention the encouraging words and great tips and ideas from all my new friends around the world.

We’re so glad you’re back, Blotanical. (Now, can I have my red star, Stuart? :)

#1 Sure Sign of Spring

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 16:43:00 +0000

What is the one sure-fire, never-miss, bonafide sign that spring is on its way to Chicagoland? No, it’s not the first crocus elbowing its way up through the earth. Nor is it the robin’s jubilant wake-up call.

It’s the arrival of the big trucks!

Like clockwork they make their appearance shortly before spring arrives. First, in mid-February, we hear the approaching rumble of the village tree-pruning squads in their bucket trucks…

Nary a dead nor errant branch escapes their notice. I’m always happy to see the trees get a good shaping-up, but they look conspicuously bare at the moment—like a young boy with a too-short haircut, his newly exposed ears and forehead gleaming against tanned skin. But they’ll fill in nicely again soon.

Occasionally a whole tree has to go and that’s sad. This one used to stand just across the cul de sac from our house. The trunk was half hollow from some ailment or other. We’ll miss its shade this summer.

After the bucket-truck brigade come the road repair crews. The winter snowplowing has left its mark on our streets, and there are potholes everywhere. I missed my chance to get a photo of these trucks today—but that’s not what you came to a garden blog for anyway, is it? How about this instead:

This intriguing live sculpture graces the entrance to a truck company near here. In summer it’s surrounded by a pretty patch of annuals. (My apologies for lopping off the “T”—I left my glasses in the car when I jumped out to snag this shot. Time for a large-print camera…)

Not exactly an idea I’d choose to replicate in my own front yard, but it makes me smile every time I pass. I’d love to get the story on it—Whose idea was it? Who maintains it so perfectly? But I can’t quite bring myself to wander into a truck yard full of burly men and inquire about their topiary and posies. I’m hoping to catch the pruner in action some day and maybe mosey over for a chat.

So that’s that. The big trucks have arrived, and spring can’t be far behind. Patience, my friend!

Meet My Arch Enemy

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 03:34:00 +0000

Drat. He’s at it again. Who, you ask? Why, my ARCH ENEMY here in the Suburban Sanctum, of course. Who else?

Is he a deer, you might wonder? No, the deer around here are amazingly well behaved. We’re on the far side of the reservoir from their usual stomping grounds, so they wander our way only once or twice a year. I don’t begrudge them the hosta or two that they nibble from the back bed, where nobody sees them anyway. Last year they de-leafed a couple branches of a doublefile viburnum. Even that didn’t really bother me. (And yes, I know full well how lucky I am! My mom has tried every repellent recipe in the book, but still they munch mercilessly on anything they can reach in her yard.)

Okay, then maybe a rabbit? No, between the coyotes and the hawk, I haven’t even seen a rabbit in years. Groundhog? Negatory on that one too. The big fella that used to hang out here considered my flower beds his own private salad bar. But I sealed up his hidey-hole under my shed…and got a VERY BIG dog. The groundhog wisely decided the gardens were greener (and safer) around the reservoir a ways.

The skunk still comes around. (The coyotes know better than to mess with him…unlike Sam, the VERY BIG but NOT SO BRIGHT Suburban Pup.) Occasionally Mrs. Skunk and her babies overturn a plant while rooting around. But that’s not a bad trade-off for all the grubs they eat.

Well, who is it already? Who has me so spittin’, sputterin’ mad?It’s that blasted squirrel!

Now that the ground has defrosted, he’s been digging around in my gardens again, like he does every year. (Why can’t those coyotes learn to climb trees?) Last summer, as I relaxed in my family room, I glanced out the window just in time to see the dreaded Mr. Squirrel scamper by with a softball-sized lily bulb in his mouth. By the time I got out the back door, he was long gone. And so was my lily.

Earlier that same season, he paraded across the patio with a tulip in his mouth. And I mean the whole tulip! He looked like a mini sideshow weightlifter with a barbell in his mouth, the bulb and roots on one side balanced by the flower on the other. Arrrgggh!

Today I peered out my laundry room window to see if any crocuses were popping up in the south-facing bed. Our 50-degree temps yesterday had melted most of the snow, so I could finally see what’s been going on under there. But what’s this? A huge hole! Right where another one of my oriental lilies used to be!

And there were smaller holes nearby. I don’t think he got deep enough to get those lily bulbs, but I’m sure he’ll be back for a second course.

This means war! I have to find a way to stop him. The Suburban Spouse offered to pull out his pellet gun for a little target practice, but that’s not my style. As murderous as my thoughts are towards this varmint right now, I couldn’t do him any harm. I just want him to stay OUT of my flowers!

I’ve already given up on the smaller bulbs. Mr. Squirrel has those for a snack before they’re in the ground ten minutes. The only ones that survive are intermingled with Allium and narcissus. He doesn’t care for those. I’ve learned a few other tricks too, like being careful not to leave bulb husks lying around to attract him. He also has a keen eye and nose for disturbed earth, so when I plant bulbs, I press the soil back in place as firmly as I can, then top with mulch and firm this as well, so it looks like no one was ever there. Sometimes it works...

Being a practical-minded (read “somewhat lazy”) gardener, I’m usually not inclined to try anything more complicated than that. The usual suggestion is to lay chicken wire over the top of the bulbs before putting the soil back into place, but that crosses the line of What-I’m-Willing-to-Mess-With and What-I’m-Not. For most of my plants, it’s survival of the fittest. If they’re tough enough to make it on their own, they get to stay. If not, oh well. (Roses are one exception, though even they get a minimum of coddling.)

But lilies might be worth putting up a fight for. I’m not yet willing to do without these magnificent beauties.

Lilium ‘Orange Pixie’—one that has survived so far!

Maybe a little chicken-wire warfare is in order. Or maybe you have suggestions? Have you found any safe, practical, uncomplicated ways to dissuade squirrels from feasting on your prized bulbs? If so, pass your ideas along fast—the Suburban Spouse’s solution is looking better all the time…

Best Foot Forward?

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 14:33:00 +0000

Admit it. We gardeners like to show off our best work right in the front where everyone can see it, don't we? Yet, my front foundation bed has been a bit of a frustration in this regard. After four years I’m still not happy with it. (It does look much better now than it did in this early photo.)

Maybe it’s “gardener’s block”—I don’t know. But I’ve struggled with what to put in here. Part of the problem is that I want fairly constant color, since it’s in the front. However, it's tough to find shade-loving perennials that will provide the bold color I desire. I’ve been filling in with impatiens and begonias for now, but eventually hope to have a mix of perennials that will take turns providing interest. Without the annuals, this bed would be a dark, shadowy hole most of the summer.

The other problem is that everything I have put in is still pretty small. If I can just be patient, I think it will look better some day. Here’s what I have so far. In the center is a chokeberry (Aronia arbutifolia ‘Brilliantissima’). It has pretty white flowers in spring, followed by red leaves in the fall. In winter its red berries stand out beautifully against the snow. It will eventually reach four feet by eight feet, which will help fill out the bed.

At either end are the two catawbiense rhododendrons I mentioned in my last post, one a ‘Nova Zembla’, with huge, velvety-red buds that open to deep pink, and ‘Boursault’, which is lavender-pink. They provide a nice jolt of color in the spring, along with a smattering of tulips and other bulbs, and their large, evergreen leaves make a nice backdrop the rest of the year.

Scattered in between are a few other small shrubs, including dwarf Korean lilac (Syringa meyeri ‘Palibin’), bird’s nest spruce (Picea abies ‘Nidiformis’), and an ‘Endless Summer’ hydrangea. The hydrangea took a couple years to settle in, but is doing well now, though my alkaline soil makes it look more like its cousin, the pink-tinged ‘Blushing Bride.’

When we moved here, there was a dwarf Alberta spruce in the center (which I pulled out after half of it turned brown) and three globe arborvitaes. I think there had been a fourth arborvitae at one time, two on each side of the spruce. (I kept one of the three leftovers where it was, and moved one elsewhere; the third died the second year we were here.) Existing trees on each end are paper birch and Amur maple. There’s also a huge green ash on the parkway nearby, and full-grown Austrian pine and Colorado blue spruce to one side, which quickly slurp up any moisture this area gets.

I’ve kept the variegated hostas left by Mr. Previous Owner, and have added a couple of golden ones, as well as Heuchera ‘Green Spice.’ Three ‘Bridal Veil’ astilbes will move to a moister location in the spring. They have not thrived here.

I planted a soft pink, thornless ‘Zephirine Drouhin’ climbing rose at the partly sunny, southeast corner of the garage, since she is supposed to do fine in low-light conditions, but I think she died back to the root stock last winter: She came in short and shrubby instead of tall and leggy, and never bloomed. I’ll probably replace her in the spring. Next to the rose is a deep red ‘Niobe’ clematis, which also does well with limited sun.

I guess I’m happy with most of what is here now, but have many gaps to fill. Now if spring would just hurry up and get here so I can go to work!

Rhodo-mometer

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 18:56:00 +0000

February’s fluctuating temperatures have been giving my rhododendrons a workout. Have you noticed this fun little botanical phenomenon—that you can tell the temperature by the angle of your rhodies’ leaves?

The first time I saw my rhodies curl up for the winter, it scared me to death. I thought I had lost them all. But now that I know what’s going on, it’s fascinating to watch their slow-motion dance. (There. You now know just exactly how dull my life is!)

When temps are above freezing, they kick up their leafy heels at almost a right angle to the stem. Here’s one of mine on a recent 40-degree day:

Just below freezing, the leaves begin to droop (much like me on a cold, sunless day!).

Below 25 degrees (it was 15 here today when I took this next photo), the leaves dangle almost straight up and down, and curl lengthwise till they look like bean pods or little green straws. Besides preventing moisture loss, this also protects the plant from sun damage while the bare deciduous trees provide no shade.

Rhododendrons and azaleas can be a little tricky to grow here in zone 5, but there are a number of varieties that do well in our colder winters, including PJM, Girard hybrids, and the “Northern Lights” series.

The two in these photographs are catawbiense varieties, my own personal favorite. (They’re also recommended by Ezra Haggard in his book,
Trees, Shrubs, and Roses for Midwest Gardens, which is where I found the comforting news that my curling rhodie leaves were nothing to worry about.)

These two rhod0-mometers are in my front foundation bed, which I’ll tell you more about in my next post. Stay tuned—and stay cozy and uncurled in the meantime!

Ice Follies

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Mon, 09 Feb 2009 22:07:00 +0000

Our recent day-night cycle of thaw-freeze-thaw-again, along with high winds, has left some mighty interesting patterns in the ice in my garden, as well as around the reservoir behind us. Here’s a little revue…

(I think these were footprints in the snow.)

How to Spot a Blogger

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Sun, 08 Feb 2009 19:26:00 +0000

I’ve been a garden blogger for a whoppin’ five weeks now, and already I’m noticing subtle changes in my behavior. See if you recognize any of these telltale signs…

1. I nearly cause accidents while scanning the roadside for photo opportunities. Up till now I’ve never been very good about taking photographs. Just to show you how bad it is, my friend Sharon gave me a nice photo album for the holidays. She used her calligraphy skills to pen a beautiful label for the front: “Christmas Memories 2008.”

It was very thoughtful of her, and will be a lovely way to show off all TWO of the photos I took the whole season! (One of each of my kids with their gifts—at least I got that right.) I think I’ll see if my friend can add a dash and then, say, the year 2025. Maybe I can fill the album by then!

Back to my point, all of a sudden I go nowhere without the camera. Even Sam, the Suburban Pup, has caught on to this. If he sees the camera in my hand, he knows I’m probably going out and he beats me to the door. [Insert gratuitous pet shot here.]

2. I’ve suddenly become interested in plants and gardening topics I never paid much attention to before. Especially during these lean winter months, it’s a scramble to find good blog fodder. (Why, exactly, did I think it was a good idea to start a garden blog in January?) Everywhere I go, I’m on the lookout for anything bloggable.

In a related vein, everyday activities have suddenly become newsworthy. Today, for example, I ventured into the garden to wrap a few at-risk plants with leftover holiday greenery. Not the most exciting thing that’s ever happened in a garden. Yet, high winds and over-50 temps have caused our foot of snow to all but vanish over night, making this extra protection important for these plants—and for my blog as well!

3. My family doesn’t see me for hours on end. When I finally emerge from my upstairs office, they stare at me like I’m the long-lost Dr. Livingstone reappearing from the depths of the internet jungle. Even when I’m with my family, I often have that far-away dreamy look that means I’m still wandering the cyber-garden of my mind.

4. I’m keeping some mighty strange hours. I can often be found in my jammies at noon, or I’m up until the wee-tiny hours of the night checking “just one more” blog, jotting down ideas for future posts before I forget them, or tweaking the layout of my blog.

5. I have a newfound sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. I have met and vanquished (somewhat) the beast that is html, I have conquered (sorta) the fear of posting my opinions for all the world to comment on, and I have gained (certainly) many opportunities for connecting with new friends in the worldwide gardening community. All of this adds a whole new dimension to a favorite pastime.

Yes, the symptoms are all there. It’s definitely the onset of blogomania. I shudder to think what will happen as it progresses…

Microclimate Triumphs and Tears

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Sun, 01 Feb 2009 04:22:00 +0000

Over the years I’ve come to realize that my sunny south foundation bed is a “microclimate.” Its brick backdrop is warmed by the sun all year round, which helps marginally hardy plants thrive here. More about that in a moment, but first let me give you a little background on this bed.

When we moved here, this was a very narrow, foundation-hugging strip of dirt, with a row of landscape blocks running its entire length. I gave the blocks to a neighbor and began digging the wider, curving bed I wanted.

That first settling-in year, I planted a few inexpensive shrubs and perennials to brighten this area until I could afford to “do it up right.” Mr. P.O. had bequeathed us only some daisies and yellow daylilies, and an overgrown barberry. Ninety percent of the bed was empty, unless you count bindweed and oxalis, which I still battle to this day.

On the east end, I planted three Weigela florida ‘Evita.’ These are a sight to see when dressed in their deep red flowers, but are a sprawling mess the rest of the season. I am still undecided about whether to keep them.

The purple stems and flower spikes of Salvia nemorosa ‘Caradonna’ provide a nice foil to Evita’s red. Other plants on this end include yarrow (Achillea ‘Moonshine’) and lamb’s ear (Stachys byzantina ‘Silver’Carpet’).

Near the center of the bed is a red rambling rose (Rosa ‘RADramblin’). She picks up where the weigela leave off with their show of red. My most vigorous rose, she reaches above the roofline every year, and puts on a non-stop show all summer. I’m thinking of trying a few cuttings from her next summer.

At the other end is a serviceberry (Amelanchier x grandiflora) I planted two years ago. At its feet is a variety of perennials, including Amsonia, Coreopsis, more Salvia, Nepeta, lilies, rock cress, and groundcover sedum.

In the middle section is a purpleleaf sand cherry (Prunus x cistena), and near her are several of my microclimate triumphs. My first clue to the potential zone-denying power of this bed came from two Caryopteris shrubs.

Here in zone 5 they are purported to die to the ground each winter, much like the butterfly bush. I went out in early spring to cut back the dead branches to make room for new growth. But lo and behold, the old stems had leaf buds all over them, and some were opening already. I let them be and they came in just fine—in fact, too fine.

By the end of the summer they were HUGE, and were smothering other plants around them. Yes, they were a gorgeous cloud of blue when they bloomed in the fall, but I really hadn’t planned for them to be so large. So the next winter, I went out nice and early, before they could bud, and cut them back. In the spring, I waited…and waited…and waited for new shoots. This time they didn’t return. Fortunately, they were rampant reseeders, so I’ve had plenty of babies to replace them.

This experience, though a mix of triumph and tragedy, encouraged me to try other marginal plants here. A neighbor had given me a Hydrangea macrophylla ‘Bluebird.’ It had never bloomed for her and she was tired of looking at it. I tried it in two shady, protected areas, with the same results. This is typical of the bigleaf hydrangeas in zone 5. They bloom on old wood, but die to the ground in winter, which means no flowers.

But then the lightbulb went off and I decided to give ‘Bluebird’ a cozy nest against the warm brick wall. (It is shaded by the sand cherry in summer.) Last spring I watched eagerly to see if it would produce any buds, but alas, the old wood was all dead. I cut it back and forgot about it. Then one day, what do you know! It suddenly had two floppy pink mopheads!

Whether it’s the location or some other factor, I am delighted that I have gotten this beauty to bloom. Never mind that I have a pink ‘Bluebird.’ (Mr. P.O. used to empty the fireplace ashes into this bed, so it’s highly alkaline, and of course hydrangeas need acidic soil to produce blue flowers.) It’s blooming and that’s enough for the moment.

I’ve had a couple of other successes too. Easter lilies are marginally hardy here, but last year one of mine had lovely trumpets. I’ve also had tri-color salvia return, though it’s sold as an annual here. On the other hand, I’ve replaced a ‘Golden Showers’ rose twice in this bed (I love its clear yellow blooms), despite good winter protection.

Clearly, microclimates are no guarantee of success. Still, I look forward to pushing the zone limits even more next summer.

Seeds of Promise

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 20:43:00 +0000

Nestled under its snow-downy comforter, the winter garden rests peacefully after its summer toil.

Yet here and there, sleepy seedheads have escaped the covers, assuring the watchful gardener that they, too, are dreaming of spring days to come.

They lie still and silent, yet their promise resounds:
Soon they will forsake their frosty nightcaps and once again stretch their yearning arms to the warmth of the sun.

From “Ode to the West Wind”
by Percy Bysshe Shelley

“O thou,
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed
The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low,

“Each like a corpse within its grave, until…

“Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow
Her clarion o’er the dreaming earth,

“…and fill
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)
With living hues and odors plain and hill…

“Be through my lips to unawakened earth
The trumpet of a prophecy!

“O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?"

A Walk on the Sunny Side

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Sat, 24 Jan 2009 15:33:00 +0000

If I scrinch my eyes really tight and concentrate really hard, I can almost remember what my sunny border looks like in summer. It’s pretty much a winter wasteland out there right now. The few photos I have help some. Let me see if I can conjure up a good description for you.

This border is on the opposite (south) side of our house from the shade beds we toured in earlier visits. It started out as a three-foot by twelve-foot bare patch where we had removed an ugly privacy screen of buckthorns.

Every year, I have widened and lengthened the bed a bit until it now runs almost the entire length of our side yard. After four years, it is filling in nicely, if I may say so! There’s a good mix of flower colors, largely pinks, purples, burgundies, whites, and yellows. You’ll notice a variety in foliage too, with golden, purple, and variegated plants to break up the green.

This bed does have its challenges, however. It is exposed to strong, harsh winds off the reservoir behind us, especially in the winter, so I have to be careful what I plant here. After one storm, I found my butterfly bush snapped off at the base. I’d love to grow sunflowers, but I don’t think their tall stems would stand a chance.

Three years ago, I brought home a long-coveted Daphne x burkwoodii ‘Carol Mackie’ from an end-of-season sale and promptly plopped her into this bed. Only after she was nicely settled did I learn she can “suffer significant winter injury…if planted in locations exposed to cold winter winds and full sun” (Missouri Botanical Garden). They don’t put that stuff on the little plastic tags! So far she has done well, although she’s a fashionably late arriver in the spring and has me holding my breath every year till she decides to make her grand appearance.

Other shrubs here include deutzia, panicle Hydrangea, Virginia sweetspire (Itea virginica ‘Henry’s Garnet’—incredible fall color, and a great replacement for the overused and invasive Burning Bush), doublefile and dwarf viburnum, a gold-leaved ninebark, and a red-leaved weigela.

Scattered across the front you’ll see several golden varieties of spirea. I’ve also incorporated a few rose bushes, such as soft pink ‘Geoff Hamilton’ and ‘The Fairy,’ yellow ‘Carefree Sunshine,’ and ‘Meidiland Red.’

Taller perennials include siberian and bearded iris, plus many bird and butterfly favorites: biennial foxglove, cosmos, cleome, coneflowers, hyssop, joe pye weed, penstemon, and phlox. I planted two varieties of false indigo (Baptisia) last fall and can’t wait to see how they come in next summer. There’s also a nice patch of assorted asiatic and oriental lilies.

Shorter perennials include coreopsis, daylilies, lavender, asters, and several varieties of sedum, including my current favorite ‘Matrona.’ (In full sun, she grows strong and sturdy, never flops, and has rich red stems and flowers.)

Down low are mat-forming dianthus, creeping phlox, and several varieties of groundcover sedum. From top to bottom, I’m pleased with the way this border is coming along. Come back next time for a glimpse of the sunny foundation bed across from this border.

More Shady Characters

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Sun, 18 Jan 2009 22:06:00 +0000

Thanks for coming back to see more of my gardens! Last time, we left off with my favorite shade border. Right across from it is another shade bed, along the north foundation of the house.

I think of this one as a “working” bed—that is, it has a job to do besides just providing joy and beauty. It is charged with disguising the unattractive “mechanicals” of the house: the air conditioner, gas meter, PVC furnace vents, and basement window wells.

Four years ago, this area was overrun with invasive buckthorn and honeysuckle. Mr. Previous Owner had fettered the 12-foot beasts to the downspout with an old clothesline to keep them from snagging unsuspecting bypassers. (The old walkway was only two feet from the wall.) Someone buy that man a pair of loppers! Stat!

There was also a healthy patch of ferns in front of the gas meter. The buckthorn and honeysuckle got the boot immediately, but I kept the ferns. With a little reining in, they’ve done quite nicely. I’ve even relocated a few divisions elsewhere in the yard.

One well-behaved ornamental tree and several shrubs have replaced the ousted brutes, providing a nice framework for this bed. At the wider end, near the AC unit, is a Japanese maple (Acer palmatum ‘Red Emperor’). Three types of Viburnum make their home here as well (V. trilobum, V. plicatum ‘Summer Snowflake,’ and V. lantana ‘Mohican’).

For height on the bare brick wall, I added a clematis that was supposed to be ‘Niobe’ but isn’t. Its small, purple flowers are unspectacular except that there are hundreds of them. This mystery clematis is the best bloomer of the seven varieties scattered throughout the Suburban Sanctum. Go figure.

There’s also a climbing hydrangea (H. anomala petiolaris) on the chimney. After a typically slow start, it’s finally beginning to fill in nicely. The beautiful white lacecap flowers help to brighten this dark side of the house in summer. Another plus: It won't chisel away the mortar like some clinging vines can.

Perennials here include assorted hostas, Lady’s Mantle (Alchemilla mollis), Ligularia, Globeflower (Trollius chinensis), Astilbe, and ferns (maidenhair, Japanese painted, and the unidentified existing ones).

Along the edge, I’ve planted golden Creeping Jenny (Lysimachia nummularia ‘Aurea’). I love the way it lights up this shady area, and it also softens the edge of the walkway.

However, a word of caution: The photos above were taken in May and October of last year. In just those few short months, Jenny had spread her fingers into every last bare inch of that bed. I would never plant her somewhere she did not have a hard and fast border. Fortunately, she’s easy to yank out when she goes places I don’t want her—plus, I have plenty of great, draping filler for summer containers. I just pull out a handful, stick it in the pot, and she roots readily.

Well, that’s it for this side of the Sanctum. Up next: a walk on the sunny side. Hope to see you again soon!

Creating a Shady Corner

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 22:00:00 +0000

Since I’m still in denial about our foot of snow and deep-freeze temps, I’ll continue the warm-weather tour of my gardens today.

Follow me past the berm I told you about in my last post, down the new paver pathway around the north side of the house, and here we are at my favorite shade bed. (Pardon my neighbor's temporary construction mess behind it!)

Four years ago, this area was a weedy patch of dirt, a real eyesore. It’s a low spot in the yard, under three white spruce. The trees are beautiful now, but back then a couple of half-dead branches sagged unattractively to the ground, and the roots were quite exposed. Mr. Previous Owner had piled a bunch of rocks and old lumber near the shed, and the space looked like little more than a dumping ground.

Our arborist neighbor encouraged us to remove the two dragging branches and cover the roots with a bit of topsoil—not more than a few inches, he warned, or it could smother the trees. He recommended tucking some shade-loving perennials among the roots—but no large shrubs, because they would compete with the trees for moisture and nutrients. Well, that was all the encouragement I needed!

In came the topsoil, followed by a few more perennials every year since. A variety of hostas provide a good foundation. They include several unknown variegated ones inherited from a neighbor making way for a home addition (perhaps ‘Albomarginata’?), a few solid green and solid blue ones, several gold varieties, and of course a couple of the “biggies” (‘Blue Angel’). Last year I added a ‘Fire and Ice,’ which is almost all white. I’m curious to see how it does next summer.

Other “gift plants” include ‘Dragon’s Blood’ sedum, from my mom, a gorgeously floppy blue geranium from a neighbor who moved to New Orleans just in time for Katrina, and a rhododendron from the same neighbor who gave me the hostas. (Don’t tell my arborist neighbor, but I snuck a few other rhodies along the back of the bed to help provide a little privacy here in the Sanctum.)

If you come back in the spring, I’ll show you all of the species tulips that are popping forth, along with white and pink Bleeding Heart (Dicentra), Columbine (Aquilegia), and Bergenia. Last year I added Hellebore and Virginia bluebells (Mertensia virginica).

Then you’ll see a summer-long parade of perennials, including Lady’s Mantle (Alchemilla), yellow Corydalis, Jacob’s ladder (Polemonium), Solomon’s Seal (Polygonatum), Spiderwort (Tradescantia), yellow foxglove (Digitalis), turtlehead (Chelone), and several varieties of Heuchera (pictured: ‘Snow Angel’).

Groundcovers include European Wild Ginger (Asarum), Sweet Woodruff (Galium odoratum), and Pulmonaria.

Recently, I’ve been experimenting with grasses. A couple years ago I planted two varieties of Hakonechloa, neither of which survived the winter. I am trying ‘Aureola’ again, with a little extra winter protection. I planted Northern Sea Oats (Chasmanthium latifolium) last summer, and am hoping it will do well. Carex elata ‘Aurea’ is barely hanging on—I think it’s too dry under the trees. Astilbe and ferns have likewise found the conditions too dry.

I used Mr. P.O.’s pile of rocks to add little retaining walls here and there, which don’t actually retain much, but do add a little visual interest. Some old slate stepping stones (replaced by the new paver walkway) make a nice, meandering path through the bed. They provide for easy maintenance, and also give a little guidance to the feet of small visitors who love to wander through the garden.

I hope this tour has helped to warm up your corner of the world. As for me, I think I can almost feel my toes again!

Come back soon and we’ll take a stroll together through another part of my little Suburban Sanctum.

An Outdoor Makeover

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Sat, 10 Jan 2009 22:10:00 +0000

It’s another snowy day around here. We’ve gotten a good eight or ten inches since yesterday, and it’s still coming down.

But enough about the cold stuff. Let me give you a glimpse of my garden in warmer times.

Before we even moved in to our home four years ago, we did a major overhaul on the yard. Our one-third acre suburban lot was home to some 30 trees at that time, and our arborist neighbor advised us to remove many of them, including eight large ones in the back yard. This not only relieved the overcrowded and unhealthy conditions, but also opened a nice view from our back windows.

I wish I had some good “before” shots to show you, but my camera must have been packed in a box somewhere. All I have are a couple nasty photocopies from the realtor’s brochure.

In the front, we evicted an ancient grove of junipers that loomed over the driveway and blocked the view of our home to approaching visitors. (A basketball backboard found lurking in the shadows was also sent unceremoniously on its way.)

Now we had a clear view of not only our house, but—lo and behold—our new neighbor, who happens to be just as rabid a gardener as I am! It was her suggestion that we replace the unfortunate junipers with a berm down the sunny property line, half on our side, half on hers. Within days, we had a load of soil delivered and have gardened (and chatted about gardening) quite happily ever since, I on my side, she on hers.

During that first year of settling in, I appointed a skeleton crew of shrubs to duty on my side of the 25- by 15-foot mound. There are three Clethra alnifolia ‘Ruby Spice’, chosen for their fabulous scent, as I mentioned in my first-ever post. There is also a Weigela florida ‘Variegata Nana’, chosen for its gorgeous green and white foliage and “compact” size (both of which proved to be a myth: With pruning, I have kept it to six feet across, rather than the promised three, and the leaves come back in green and yellow each spring). I also planted a Spirea japonica ‘Neon Flash’, purchased as a four-dollar space filler until I could afford something “better.”

Over the years I have added a mix of perennials and bulbs, until this year, it suddenly occurred to me that I am quite happy with the results. Most surprisingly, that four-dollar spirea has turned out to be the tone-setter for the entire berm! Its reblooming habit makes it a fairly constant burst of deep pink, which blends nicely with its neighbors, from spring to fall.

Perennials include Monarda ‘Gardenview Scarlet’, Liatris spicata ‘Kobold’, Leucanthemum x superbum ‘Becky’ (Do you have this one? It just never stops blooming!), Salvia nemorosa ‘East Friesland’, Sedum ‘Matrona’ (my favorite sedum, with its gorgeous red stems), and Coreopsis ‘Crème Brulee.’

Low-growers along the edge include Stachys byzantina ‘Silver Carpet’, several groundcover sedums, and Geranium macrorrhizum ‘Bevan’s Variety.’

I also get to enjoy the “borrowed” view of my neighbor’s side of the berm, as her lovely assortment peeks through between my own.

After four years, the berm is finally coming into its own. I apologize that I have no photos of it in the height of its summertime glory. (I guess I didn’t believe myself when I kept saying, “I’m going to start a blog…”) Stay tuned for follow-up postings this summer…

(Yes, summer will return. I promise.)

Snow-flaky Day

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 15:38:00 +0000

It’s a snow-flaky day around here. I guess that’s better than a regular ol’ flaky day! It’s certainly much prettier. Witness these snowy tapestries from the Sanctum, some captured today, some on other wintry days.

The view from my laundry room. If I hafta work in there, at least I have something nice to look at!

The back yard on a hazy morning.

White pine, paper birch, and silver poplar on the same sunny-hazy day.

This photo hardly does justice to the interplay of textures on the paper birch, Austrian pine, and blue spruce.

We optimistically planted this tiny Norway spruce to help divert the strong winds that traced this pattern. Some day...

The curve of the crab apple's snow-laden branches is nicely echoed by the weigela and cotoneaster below it.

“Nature has undoubtedly mastered the art of winter gardening and even the most experienced gardener can learn from the unrestrained beauty around them.”
—Vincent A. Simeone, Wonders of the Winter Landscape: Shrubs and Trees to Brighten the Cold-Weather Garden

That's the view from my corner of the world today. I hope you can find time to enjoy the beauty around you today, too.

You Say It’s Your Birthday? It’s My Birthday Too, Yeah!

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 23:00:00 +0000

Today is my birthday. And other than a nice breakfast with my mother-in-law this morning, it’s been pretty uneventful so far. That’s the problem with having a birthday so close to the holidays. Everybody’s had enough partying for a while.

But last year? That was a very different story…

First, you have to understand one thing about me. I. Love. The Beatles. It’s gotten progressively worse with age. Maybe it’s a nostalgia thing, a longing for my youth. All I know for sure is that their music makes me happy.

A couple years ago I decided to combine that passion with my other favorite pastime: gardening, of course. I began noticing how many Beatles lyrics mentioned gardening, or flowers, or sunshine. I decided to incorporate some of those lines into my flowerbeds. Little did I know that those tunes would soon come to life right in my very own back yard.

Last year was my *cough* fiftieth *cough* birthday, so the Suburban Spouse, along with the Suburban Sprouts (our then-seventh-grade son and fourth-grade daughter) conspired to throw one spectacular surprise party for me.

One Friday in September (four months early—the best way to keep a surprise!), I came home from work to find a couple big trucks unloading in our driveway.

Out came band equipment…

inflatable “moon walks” for the kids…

a food tent…

and even some portable “Suburban Sanitation” units. (The Spouse thinks of everything, bless his generous little heart.)

Soon, about 2-300 of our closest friends and neighbors showed up for the main event: a concert by American English, my favorite Beatles tribute band! Our house sits on a little bit of a hill above the field behind us, so our patio made a great stage.

They played a couple hours’ worth of my favorite songs, before a 10-minute rain shower sent everyone running for home. (I was sort of thankful for that. I had visions of happy partiers keeping the neighbors—okay, me—up till all hours.)

Then, “Paul McCartney” came inside and played a brief private concert for the few of us who remained. He even made our sadly-out-of-tune piano sound good!

It was a beautiful evening. So many friends pitched in to help with set-up and food preparation. Some drove a good distance to be there. Many brought very nice gifts (mostly Beatles or garden-related—bonus!). My friend Megan had a special “watering can” cake made for me!

It was a birthday I’ll never forget. And that’s a good thing, because it’s not likely to happen again any time soon.

Oh, well. “Ob-la-di, ob-la-da. Life Goes On…”

Sub-Zero Sanctum?

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Sun, 04 Jan 2009 03:10:00 +0000

We moved to our current home about four and a half years ago. Our old house was just around the corner from where we are now. (We rolled our piano right down the middle of the street, much to our neighbors’ amusement.)

Why bother with such a short move? Well, the house is a little bigger, yes, but mostly it was, as they say, location, location, location.

Our new house backs up to one of our town’s reservoirs, which means we have wide-open space behind us, with a great view of the water and wildlife. We also happen to be on a cul-de-sac, with an extra-wide back yard, making for even better views of the sunsets across the pond (not to mention more space for flowerbeds!). It truly is a Sanctum in the midst of the suburban insanity.

The week before Christmas we got about eight inches of snow in our area, coupled with below-zero temperatures. This was quickly followed by two days of rainy, 40-degree weather. All that snow was gone in no time, and the run-off added an extra 10 feet to the depth of the reservoir.

Now, a week later, the Reservoir Gods (presumably the Chicago Water Reclamation folks) have decreed that the excess water be drained out of the reservoir, which has left some interesting ice formations around the edges.

That's a "no swimming" sign behind Sam, the Suburban Pup. As if anyone would be tempted!

Somehow, the ducks don’t seem to mind it. Totally ignoring the signs, they float contentedly right in the middle of the freezing cold water. (I suspect it’s partly to make sure that Sam and our resident coyotes keep their distance.) How can they stand it? Curious, I did a little web surfing to find an answer.

According to Dandy Designs, it has to do with a complex mass of capillaries in their feet that keeps up a constant exchange of warm blood for cold.

Boy, what I wouldn’t give for a human version of that this time of year. Oh, well. Cold feet, warm heart, right?

Stay warm and cozy, friend!

Day Three: So Far, So Good!

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Sat, 03 Jan 2009 20:29:00 +0000

Well, we’re three days into the New Year, and so far I’m staying on top of my resolutions… I think.

The ever-supportive Suburban Spouse read my first post yesterday, then said, “You want a rain barrel? Why don’t you just go out and buy one?”

Well, my love, they’re around a hundred bucks apiece.

Pause.

“Can’t you just use a big bucket?”

On that promising note, here’s the second half of my Top 10 gardening resolutions for 2009.

6. Get more flowering indoor plants. I don’t usually get excited about houseplants, although I always have several around, ranging from the obligatory philodendron to a ceiling-height dieffenbachia inherited from a neighbor who moved to New Orleans. Most of them were gifts, and all are sadly neglected. I forget to water them until they start to shrivel and droop.

And repotting? Forget it. I have three African violets in a basket on my kitchen table that I bought at least five years ago. They’re still in their original pots. They are growing and blooming happily, fortunately for them. Otherwise, I’m one of those merciless people who throws them out when they hit an ugly stage (post-Christmas poinsettias and cyclamen, for example).

But I'm hoping to turn over a new leaf, as it were, in 2009. Seeing all the beautiful photos on other blogs has made me long for the real thing to brighten up my own home during the drab winter months. Taking a cue from Kylee at Our Little Acre, I just bought a couple Amaryllis bulbs (grocery-store clearance-priced at 2 for $5—my kind of bargain!). One of them, a pink-and-white ‘Apple Blossom,’ is about ready to bloom, and I was hoping to have a beautiful photo for this post. But of course, a watched pot never blooms.

The second one, an unnamed red one, has a lot of catching up to do, and I actually bought a third one yesterday for four bucks at the local Box-mart. I have yet to pot it up, and I confess I bought it mostly for the nice ceramic pot, but it should be pretty too. No name on this one either, but it looks similar to ‘Apple Blossom,’ but with less pink. Watch for a photo update soon!

7. Be more disciplined about adding kitchen materials to the compost bin. I’m pretty good with composting yard materials, since I’m out there near the bin already. I’m a little lazy about the kitchen stuff though, especially in the winter. It’s often a windy trek through deep snow drifts to get to the bin, and I’m not wild about piling up stuff in my kitchen till I can get outside.

However, I’m trying something new. I’ve started collecting vegetable trimmings, banana peels, egg shells, and coffee grounds in large zipper bags. I tuck the bags right outside my back door until it’s nice enough to venture to the compost bin. That way I don’t have to keep smelly stuff in my kitchen, and since it freezes quickly on the back doorstep, it’s easy to dump out later. (And of course, I recycle the bags for the next round of compostables!)

8. Apply (organic) fertilizer/weed inhibitor to the lawn on time. Somehow, I always miss the recommended spreading time. I usually get at least one application down, but last year I didn’t even manage that. I’m not really one to worry a whole lot about what our lawn looks like. However, my neighbor is kind of picky about his, and because I value our friendship, I really have got to do something about the patch of Creeping Charlie that is taking over my side yard and fast encroaching upon his lawn.

9. Never bring home a plant unless I know where it’s going. This is a nice idea, but it probably won’t stop me from buying anything. I’ll just spend more time loitering at the garden center until I can figure out where to squeeze in another bargain, or where to start a whole new bed to make room for it…

10. Visit more local gardens. Living in the Chicago area, I’m within driving distance of some of the country’s best gardens. I’ve been to the Chicago Botanic Garden many times, but have yet to make my way down to the Morton Arboretum, Millennium Park, the Garfield Conservatory, or Cantigny. And there are dozens of smaller gardens all over. Perhaps having a blog to fill will give me a little motivation.

How are you doing with your resolutions? Or are you one of those wise people who knows better than to make them in the first place? Either way, I hope your year is off to a fabulous start.

Resolved: Be a Better Gardener in 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Wed, 31 Dec 2008 19:31:00 +0000

Why is it so much easier to make and keep resolutions about gardening than about any other aspect of my life?

Maybe because even the most tedious garden task is more enjoyable than, say, losing weight, working out, or reading that stack of books I “should” read some day. Can you relate? Whatever the reason, I feel pretty confident that I’ll follow through on my “Top Ten” gardening goals for 2009. Here are the first five. Stay tuned for the rest in my next post.

I resolve to …

1. Start a gardening blog. Is it cheating to start my list with one I can check off already? Maybe, but “starting” and “maintaining” are two very different things. We’ll see how I do. I look forward to getting more connected to the worldwide gardening community, and to sharing with you my triumphs and frustrations as a Zone 5, suburban Chicago gardener.

2. Find plants that will grow in the dry dirt under my Norway spruce. This is a huge tree. It’s probably 30 feet across, and the limbs are about 6 feet off the ground, which leaves a lot of bare soil in view. It’s in the most exposed site in my yard, and gets ferocious, drying winds all year round. Add lots of tree roots to take up any remaining moisture and nutrients, and it’s a tough spot to grow anything. I envisioned a charming patchwork of shade plants snuggled around the toes of the tree, and have tried any number of possibilities. A few are hanging on, but none is thriving. Even the hostas are half the size of those planted at the same time elsewhere in the yard.

I’ve even tried a few “no-fail” ground covers, like vinca, dead nettle, and bugleweed. After three or four years, none of these diehards has spread more than a foot or two. So the search is on for dry-soil shade plants. If you’ve found any that work well, I’d love to hear about them!

3. Add more early- and late-season bloomers. Like most gardeners, I'm always looking for a way to stretch out the gardening season. I got a start on this last fall, with a half-price hellebore (Helleborus orientalis ‘Red Lady’; she needs some company or she’s going to be quite lonely out there come spring!) and a couple of heathers (Erica x darleyensis ‘Mediterranean Pink’).

The heathers were supposed to bloom in December. I’ve since learned that many of them don’t really “bloom” the way you might expect. Mostly, they just have attractive little buds that never really open all the way. Mine are pale pink, so the effect is pretty underwhelming. At least the foliage will add a nice texture to the garden. Possibilities for the future: witch hazel, early bulbs. (Again, I’d love to hear your suggestions!)

4. Add more fragrant plants. I don’t mean the kind you have to smash your nose into or squish between your fingers to pick up the fragrance. I mean the kind that waft clear across the yard and lift you out of your chair to go and find the source of the heavenly aroma.

I thought I had a good start on this: When we moved into our home four years ago, one of the first things I did was to plant three Clethra alnifolia ‘Ruby Spice’ on the new berm along our driveway—we had two of them at our last home and I adore their scent. When the new ones bloomed a month later, I was disappointed to learn that the wind blows the scent away from our house. At least my new neighbor is happy. As she works in her own garden, she gets the full benefit of the scent I expected to enjoy each time I headed out the front door.

But all is not lost. The two ‘Miss Kim’ lilacs planted near the front door by the previous owner do smell awfully nice in the spring, and I’ve added a dwarf Korean lilac (Syringa meyeri 'Palibin') near the garage door. I had three of these at my last home and when they were in bloom you could smell them on the other side of the house. The one I’ve planted here is only about 18 inches tall, though, and a long way from having that kind of impact. Patience, patience.

5. Install rain barrels. Every time it rains I watch the water run down the hill away from our house and long to save it up to use in my gardens in drier times. The problem is that if I have money to spend on garden stuff, I’d usually rather spend it on plants. I’ll just have to bite the bullet one of these days and make the investment.

I also have to pull out an overgrown (and very thorny) Barberry bush to make room for a barrel. That should be a fun little New Year task—and my kind of workout!

Just What the World Needs--Another Gardening Blog!

noreply@blogger.com (Donna at Suburban Sanctum) — Wed, 31 Dec 2008 01:18:00 +0000

Coming Soon! Watch for my first "real" posting after the New Year...