October 2006

My fall bulb order has arrived and this is what I got, 50 of them.  It’s the 1916 tulip ‘Blue Aimable’ and here’s what I know about it: "Though it’s not blue, it’s a soft, silvery lilac that combines amiably with just about everything. Even better, its tall, graceful blossoms last and last in bloom, longer than any other tulip we’ve grown. Darwin, 24 inches, zones 3-7, from Holland."  And under $20 for the bunch.

I’ve arrived at this simple 50-of-one-tulip design idea after a colorful assortment of tulip design failures:

• Tulips bloom too early, competing with the daffodils and leaving the border all spent-leafy in late spring.
• Different tulips fail to bloom together, as intended.
• Tulips fail to be the imagined color.
• Tulips fail to STAY the right color, morphing from pink to - eek! - orange and clashing big-time with their neighbors.

Finally the only thing standing between me and tulip design paradise are the backyard squirrels and y’all remember how I foiled them last year using pepper flakes?  Next year it’ll be perfect.

I’m not even worried that I don’t know which of these two photos accurately depicts the damn flowers, or if they’ll be some other version of blue-purple-pink.  How can they not look great against the backdrop of major dogwood action, minor viburnum action, and a scattering of blooming azaleas?  God, just thinking about spring is making me hot.  You know, gardener hot.

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Remember when I told you all about this combined border makeover?  Well, with all the late season blooms - rudbeckia, sedum and aster - it’s looking DAMN good to me, and to my neighbor, too.  This is the view from her deck looking toward my garden.  But what I can’t show you is a "before" photo of this border, which is another instance in my continuing saga of before photos not taken. I think it’s because who wants to record something ugly?  Then by the time it occurs to me, the transformation is under way and it’s too late.

Next up, though, is the transformation of my neighbor’s front garden - before and after shots. 

Now if you’re wondering what the hell I’m doing working on my neighbor’s garden, you’re not alone.  (I’m known in these parts as the Constant Gardener.)  Yeah, I’ve got an untreated addiction and there’s no 12-Step program for the disease of gardening.

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Takoma Gardener’s been gardening her ass off lately and thinking a lot about telling you about it but too damn busy to sit down and write.  But today it’s raining - sometimes a blessing for the gardening addict - and I have a chance to catch up a bit.

Now moving a plant doesn’t seem complicated but jeez, I’ve seen some pretty bad technique used by beginners and nonbeginners alike, so I offer a tip or two.  A 10-year-old rhodo planted in solid clay just can’t be pulled up; it has to be released from underneath and that takes shovels and picks and trowels and an hour or two of back-breaking labor.  And in this case when digging was getting me nowhere I resorted to the hosing-down technique seen in this photo - fill hole with water, wait while it soaks in, dig some more.  It took THREE hosings to finally release this plant and after it was finally ready to be lifted it was too fricking heavy.  Help from a passing (unsuspecting) neighbor taught me it was too heavy for us ladies and a husband had to be called in on the job - and I hate it when that happens, ya know.

Now a word about the "soil" this shrub had the misfortune to be planted in.  Because this area was terraced and earth-moving equipment used, there’s no topsoil anywhere in sight.  It’s all clay, baby.  Now I’ve read that after topsoil removal by developers it takes a generation for the earth to heal itself but hey, this damage was done in 1925 and the soil’s as bad as ever.  Why?  Probably because it hasn’t been fed with gardeners’ favorite cure-all - organic matter.  Instead, compost had been spread across the surface once or twice over the last 10 years and I swear to God it only made things worse.  Not only has it not been incorporated into the hardplan clay beneath it; it also raised the grade by an inch or two with each application, leaving the rhodo planted too shallow.  And most plants hate that, ya know, including this one, and it’s just another reason the rhodo was so hard to extricate.

All of which speaks volumes about the difference between compost and mulch.  Compost is a growing medium, like soil.  Weeds love the stuff!  Mulch, like good old leaf mold, is organic matter that hasn’t broken down yet but gradually will, improving the soil as it does.  Earthworms love it and will reproduce enthusiastically in its presence.*   It’ll prevent weeds because it stands between weed seeds and the soil they need to germinate.  This all seems pretty basic but a nearby town sells their compost as "mulch," so it’s no wonder people are confused.

*I have Amy Stewart’s wonderful book The Earth Moved to thank for this useful information.  Now when I spread mulch every spring I know I’m not just preventing weeds, retaining moisture and improving the soil; I’m feeding the worms and increasing their numbers. 

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My recent column on Sustainable Gardening promised a part 2 in which I’d list all the sustainable plants I could conjure up for this part of the world, and here it is.  The impetus for compiling such a list came from reading the National Wildlife Federation’s recommendations for sustainable gardening practices, which includes the directive to use native plants only.  Well.  Readers won’t be surprised to know I’m critical of generic gardening advice directed to all 300 million of us (or even worse - all of N. America).  And how anyone can expect the almost exclusively woodland plants native to the East Coast to be drought-tolerant, even in full sun, is beyond me.  Is it ideology trumping reality?  I can’t iImagine trying to landscape my whole property using just the plants on this list of natives.

My sources for the list started with every website I could find but included many respected hort experts and native plant advocates in the D.C. area and I thank them all.  Now gardenbloggers and readers, what can you add?

"GARDENING COACH" COLUMN FOR NOVEMBER 2006

Okay, a quick review in case you didn’t memorize Part 1.  Sustainable gardening practices are those that don’t damage the earth or waste resources.  Definitions vary all across the board but that one has broad support.  And for eco-conscious local gardeners I’ve looked far and wide for plants that are:
    - Drought-tolerant.  Since most drought-tolerant plants are Mediterranean and need good drainage if they’re to survive our winter and esp for winter and wet springs.  So berms are helpful, plus well-draining soil a must.  Also, no low spots or poorly draining clay soils.  And if your site is a consistently soggy one, drought-tolerant plants won’t work.  (Google plants for wet soils.)
    -Resistant to disease and severe insect damage.  Minor insect damage?  Get over it.

GOTTA BE NATIVE?
Another criteria for the "sustainable" label used by some sources is that plants be native, a word I interpret to mean locally native.  (Why?  Because no other definition makes any sense.  Plants don’t behave according to political boundaries like "native to the U.S.," and the U.S. includes waaay too many different ecosystems to provide horticultural guidance in the first place.)   Here in the Mid-Atlantic area the native ecosystem is that of deciduous forest and almost all the native plants are woodland, shade-loving ones, not the desert or rock garden plants that tolerate sun and drought.  So I’ve included as many locally native garden plants as I could find but there just aren’t many to choose from.  (The Plains of the Midwest do provide a considerably larger selection, however.)   

A FEW DISCLAIMERS
    - Even the most drought-tolerant plants for our area require careful watering during their first year, sometimes longer.  So don’t assume a plant is drought-tolerant until at least its second full season.  This is especially true of any plant installed in the spring (which is why fall planting is best!)
    - I found contradictory information about some plants, with the literature saying one thing and local gardeners another, so I’ve noted them as "possibly" sustainable.
    - Some plants listed here are on watch lists for possible invasive behavior because of reports from other parts of the country (nandina, liriope, ornamental grasses, butterfly bush, and daylilies) but no locally listed invasive plants have been included. 
    - I’ve used primarily common names for reasons of space and public recognition.       

LOCALLY NATIVE SUSTAINABLE PLANTS
Grasses: Big and Little Bluestems.
Perennials: Threadleaf coreopsis, Liatris, Rudbeckias (including black-eyed susan), goldenrod, common evening primrose, Butterfly milkweed, wild columbine, New England aster, wild bleeding heart and possibly Amsonia, Bee balm and Joe Pye Weed.
Shrubs/small trees: Flame azalea, American beautyberry, Serviceberry, several sumacs, Witch Hazel and Pasture rose.

SUSTAINABLE PLANTS THAT AREN’T LOCALLY NATIVE
Grasses: Carex, Dwarf mondo grass, Liriope, and most larger ornamental grasses
Perennials: Agastaches, Asters, Baptisia, Chinese Fringe Flower, Daylilies, Dianthus, Epimedium, Hellebores, Heucheras, Hostas, Mazus, Purple coneflower, Rudbeckias, Sedums, Penstemon digitalis, Russian sage, Salvia (hybrid sages), Sempervivums, Sweet Autumn clematis, and Yucca
Shrubs/small trees: Abelias, Aucuba, Azaleas, Beautybush, Butterfly bush, Caryopteris, Cotoneasters, Crapemyrtles (especially those with Indian names), Deutzia, Forsythias, Fothergilla, Hydrangea paniculatas, Oakleaf Hydrangea, Asian and hybrid dogwoods, Junipers, Lespedeza, Mahonias, Nandina, Photinia, Rugosa roses, Sarcococca, Spiraeas, Viburnums, Witch Hazel, Weigelia, Winter jasmine, Yaupon holly, and Yucca.

PARTING SHOTS
    - These popular plants in our area really don’t like drought: Japanese maples, snowbells, rhododendrums, big-leaf hydrangea, boxwoods, and our native dogwoods (Cornus florida). These dogwoods flunk our sustainability test because they’re vulnerable to the disease anthracnose.
    - Some drought-tolerant plants (like artemesia) have been excluded here because they hate our humidity, so ask enough questions of the nursery staff.
    -Got some plants that always look sickly or that require constant vigilance during even moderate droughts?  Consider getting rid of it.  You’ll be glad you did.

Thanks to my contributors: Larry Hurley of Behnkes; Peggy Bowers, horticulturist at the American Horticultural Society; Jim Adams, horticulturist at the British Embassy; Pat Howell of Deephaven Landscapers; Mike Welsh, Takoma Park’s City Gardener; Donna Shipp, horticulturist at American Plant Food; Joel Lerner via the Washington Post; Derek Thomas, local landscaper; Carole Bergman and others in the Maryland Native Plant Society; the NC State Cooperative Extension Service website and other many others.

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Everybody wants to know what it is and when I tell ‘em, they just want to know more.  Okay now, all at once:

• Yes, it’ll bear fruit - someday.  My three vines finally started flowering a couple of years ago (after 6 years in place), so I have hope.
• And no, the fruit won’t look like those furry brown things we get in the grocery store.  They’re more berry-sized and reportedly delicious with cereal.
• They require male and female plants together to flower and fruit.
• It’s deciduous but definitely woody.
• It’s happy with only a half-day of sun.
• It’ll grow at least a foot a week during the season, so I warn that it’ll "eat your house" if you’re not careful.
• And like possibly all vines, it’s high-maintenance as hell.

*Make that Actinidia for the botanically exact among us.

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Please.  My nice neighbor asked me what this is and I failed her, so readers, can you help me out?  She bought it last year, it wintered over and apparently flourished this season.  They’re about 4-feet tall when they’re not flopping over, and this is how it looked in mid-September.

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Yes, siree, though it’s officially called our National Floral Emblem, and it’s the ROSE, given that exalted status in 1986 when Ronald Reagan signed it into law.  I learned this at the press opening of the new National Garden on the Mall and of course I wanted to know - as you do, I know - WHY???  (What’s so American about roses, anyway?)  Well, it happened at the urging of a few senatorial wives and - wait for it - the American Rose Society.  Who knew they even had lobbyists!  And if you don’t like it, it could have been worse - it was originally going to be the MARIGOLD.  No lie.  That’s what so riled the wife of a Louisiana senator that she set out to champion the rose instead, so I guess we should be grateful for her intervention. Now I want to know who the hell was pushing the damn marigolds.  Park Seeds perhaps?  I’m afraid  I’d have to do some actual legislative research to find the answer and what do you expect of me, readers?

But stepping back even further, why would there even BE a national flower, since we’re a nation of - what, 30 different climatic zones?  Seems counter to good plant education.  But if we HAD to have one, what do you think would be chosen today?  My vote - black-eyed Susan, of course!

THE ROSE GARDEN
For rose-lovers, winning the National Floral Emblem title didn’t go far enough; they decided we needed a Rose Garden right here in D.C. - on the Mall with the monuments and museums! - to "showcase it".  Which idea morphed into the $11 million National Garden, containing not only the roses but a First Ladies Water Garden and a large Regional Garden.  Money concerns resulted in the Environmental Learning Center sought by Teresa Heinz being scratched - too bad - and what opened this weekend after a 20-year odyssey is an odd patchwork indeed.

WaPo diplomatically referred to the Rose Garden as a "horticultural period piece rooted in the 19th century and the notion that stiff modern rose bushes needed to be grown in isolation."  But thankfully, it’s 2006 and these roses will be grown without chemical intervention.  The rosarian (Takoma’s own Margaret Atwell), told me if a rose needs coddling, she’ll just pitch it. 

Another departure from the usual pitiful-looking rose garden is that this one includes companions.  You know, like nepeta.  So maybe all along roses have just been lonely for friends to help hide their legginess, and this garden will convince us they’re actually good garden plants (all eight types are represented in the 100+ varieties).

REGIONAL GARDEN
Okay, you native plant nuts, you’re going to like this part because most of the three-acre site is reserved for plants native to the Mid-Atlantic, and cultivars thereof.  And the horticulturist in charge did something pretty daring for a public garden - he used small plants on purpose.  You read that right.  Seems that native plants especially can’t be yanked around full-grown and expected to respond like they like it, so the first lesson this garden will teach is patience.  (WaPo suggests the first lesson taught is that young gardens are meant to look "raw and callow," so that tells you something - that it won’t look like a garden to most observers for at least three years, maybe five.  So plan your visit accordingly.) 

Also, there’s no irrigation system and plants are grouped according to their "moisture gradient" - how much water they need.  So kudos to the folks at the U.S. Botanic Gardens for making the most of a difficult assignment.

THE DONORS
All $11 million for the garden has come from private sources and you might wonder who’d cough up that kind of money.  Well, the list starts with our old friend Scotts Miracle-Gro, plus Lowes, John Deere, HGTV, and the Heinz
Family Foundation.  So as much as we grouse about Scotts, at least they put some of their profits to good use.  The National Garden Clubs and their
230,000 members also raised big bucks and their members were everywhere at the press opening.  You couldn’t miss them in their matching blue pantsuits and blue-trimmed straw hats.  I didn’t take a poll but my guess is there wasn’t a gardenblogger (or a liberal?) in the bunch. 

[Photos: Floribunda 'Gold Magic; the plan; a gorgeous rose I forgot to get the name of; the regional garden; bigshots against a world-class backdrop.)

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