Whole Life Gardening

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Potential

Report From PIA – February 8

I walked around Poison Ivy Acres today, looking at the shrubs and trees we’ve planted over the past two years. Many of them are small, and show only a hint of what they will grow to be in the next five or ten years. Their beauty is possible, but not yet in existence.

There are shrubs in the yard that are already budded, waiting for longer or warmer days so that they may come into bloom. I looked at my witch hazel which flowers in late-February, and the Pieris that blossoms in March and April, and appreciated that they hold such promise.

Later this afternoon I put in my seed order from Johnny’s, knowing that the packets I’ll soon receive hold such prospective joy and satisfaction. I try to have that same attitude when I think of the talks and writing that I’m working on that are so far from being finished.

I remind myself that it’s very satisfying to see potential, be it in our plants, a project we’re working on, or in a child. Yes, we all like instant gratification and quick rewards, but allowing ourselves to savor a process, knowing that things are likely grow, is a real gift. There is something wonderful about the inherent capacity for coming into being.

It's a good thing that I don't have neighbors right next door, because they would laugh as I go outside in the mornings in a bathrobe, with my camera. The morning light is magical, however, and I get to capture the ice on the lake beginning to thaw. There are the patterns made by the night's cold temperatures, very thin and temporary on top of the potential of the spring thaw.

I've bad-mouthed Pieris for years because it gets lace bug, but now I appreciate those reddish buds all winter, and fragrant white flowers in the spring, so I guess it's worth a couple of applications of horticultural oil to keep the bugs in check.

I'm sure that once the Irish yews fatten out, the neighboring Green Giant Arborviates grow, and I get some low plants established around them, that this will be a nice section of the yard. Right now, however, the yews look like Moe, Larry and Curly.

Shrub or Tree?

Report From PIA – February 7

I was reading the catalog from Digging Dog Nursery this morning, turning down page corners and circling plant names. I want seven of this, five of that, and…. before I got to page seven, a huge case of plant-lust has kicked in.

Aside from the varieties that I really must have, it was interesting to read how particular plants are described. For example, one of my all time, must-have in the garden plants, Heptacodium miconioides, is listed as a shrub. I’ve always called it a tree.

Heptacodium, also called seven son flower, grows twelve to twenty feet high, and about fifteen feet wide. It can be found in mult-stem forms, or single trunk specimens. This shrub/tree has exfoliating (peeling) bark and it flowers in September. After the white flower petals drop, the pink calyxes remain until hard frost, extending the season of color and interest. A yummy plant.

Does it matter if we call it a shrub or a tree? I think so. People commonly think of shrubs as something that grows up to eight feet tall, but not much taller. Yes, some shrubs grow larger, but let’s not get picky about terms that help with public perception. The average home-landscaper thinks of a shrub as something that stays under eight feet, so let’s use the term that best helps them to put a plant in the right place.

That said, I recognize that one of our great challenges as humans is to really understand other people,  knowing that our experiences, and terminology, may be completely different from theirs.

This small Heptacodium tree is still filled with pink calyxes in early November.

Gardening and Twitter

Report From PIA – February 6

As you know from my post of February 3rd, I appreciate twitter because it connects people. Today I noticed a tweet by Frederic A Brussat that contained a link to a post listing twenty-five reasons that twitter is spiritual. I read them, deciding that I’m in love.

Some of the reasons in Frederic’s post are similar to those that I recently listed as benefits of blogging every day. Posts on twitter are similar to blogs, only more concise. I was particularly taken with the following points on Brussat’s list:

4.) Twitter inspires us to practice hospitality in a time when too often strangers are feared and the “other” is shunned.

6.) Twitter prods us to find the divine energy of joy in our daily lives and to share it with others.

8.) Twitter draws out our playfulness and celebrates, in a variety of ways, the holiness of savoring pleasure and the lightness of being.

Ahhh… those alone would be reasons to celebrate this website and means of communication. But how does this relate to gardening? I suggest that in Brussat’s thoughts about twitter, listed above, you could substitute the word “gardening” for “twitter” and it would all be true.

Gardening inspires us to practice hospitality, prods us to find the divine energy of joy in our daily lives, and draws out our playfulness. There are certainly twenty-five ways that gardening is spiritual, and I’m thankful that we have gardens and twitter to cultivate our connectedness.

Follow me on twitter by searching for C.L. Fornari or thegardenlady.

Hydrangea Color & Flummoxed Friday

Report From PIA – February 5

I got an email today from a woman who was perplexed about her hydrangeas. “They’ve been blue for several years,” she wrote, “but the last two years they got taller and turned pink.” She wondered if the height and color change were related.

Full disclosure here: the photos below are not from her garden. I took a photo of a blue hydrangea and tinted the flowers pink with Photoshop. Think illustration, not documentation.

I told her that I thought that she has Nikko Blue hydrangeas, and these grow to be well over five feet tall when mature. Additionally, all of these shrubs grew taller last summer because of the wet season. I doubt that the size is related to the color.

Blue hydrangeas stay blue when the plant is growing in acidic soil. It’s aluminum in the soil that turns them blue, but they can’t absorb that mineral unless the soil is on the acid side. In alkaline soils these hydrangeas will be pink.

Occasionally a hydrangea can turn pinkish in acidic soil if a lot of phosphorous has been applied to the area. Phosphorous can tie up the aluminum so that the plant can’t take it up, even though the pH is in the right range. So if you want your hydrangeas to stay blue, don’t use super phosphate around them.

In the Northeast most of us have acidic soil because of the native soil and acid rain. Usually if we do nothing our hydrangeas stay blue. Leaching from cement foundations can sweeten soil, however, and lime that’s applied to lawns can be spread into neighboring beds which raises the pH in that area.

I haven’t heard back from the flummoxed emailer yet, so I don’t know which of these situations might apply to her.

And here’s one way hydrangea color relates to our lives: we all need particular growing conditions in order to do well. I need to eat regularly, and stay away from very hot environments, for example. It’s good for me, and those around me, that I know that about myself, because I can be really cranky when hungry or hot.

What growing conditions cause you to turn from pink to blue?

A Nikko Blue hydrangea will always be either light blue or light pink. You can't make this one dark blue or deep purple. You can make a Nikko Blue pink - scatter lime around the shrub in the spring and fall, or use wood ashes in the same seasons.

What Do You Think?

Report From PIA – February 4

Today at the New England Grows event I attended a Garden Writers of America regional meeting. This group, the GWA, is poorly named as the members are not only writers, but photographers, speakers and other garden communicators. That said, the Northeast Regional meeting was helpful to most attendees I think.

Our speaker was Richard Banfield of Fresh Tilled Soil, and by the end of the event we were all smitten with him. He spoke about how we could improve our marketing and general way of doing business in this time when the old models are crumbling and it’s all happening on-line. I came away with several action items in my notes, and one of them had to do with polling blog readers about what they want to see in future posts.

I am dedicated to writing both about gardening and how the landscape connects with the rest of our lives. But I’m also open to hearing if you want something else. Do the readers of this blog need more direct gardening information, plant talk or other instruction and tips? Am I too philosophical or personal here?

Let me know what you think, in comments, by email or through facebook.

Roots, Twitter, and Hopeful Connections

Report From PIA – February 3

I’m attending New England Grows, a green-industry trade show in Boston. I heard Bill Cullina speak this afternoon, and attended a tweet-up this evening, and once again find that almost magically events come together for this blog.

I took notes at Bill’s talk, and one of the things I jotted down was his mention of a study done on how jewelweed grows roots. The bottom line of this work, done by Guillermo P. Murphy and Susan Dudley of McMaster University, is that when this Impatiens’ roots touch the roots of other plants, they can tell if those neighboring roots are their siblings or not, and they grow accordingly.

When jewelweed is growing in the same pot with siblings, they grow a bit thinner so that foliage on all the plants can get enough light. But when growing with plants that they aren’t directly related to, they grow thicker foliage…when it’s the survival of the fittest, it’s OK to shade the neighbors.

Every plant is on a mission to replicate its genetic material, usually by making seeds, and this is why we deadhead to make sure that a plant keeps blooming. It makes sense, therefore, that after germination each plant would favor its own kind as well. Produce seeds, and then protect the offspring.

Extending this knowledge from plants to humans, however, I wondered if people too have some sort of molecular response that makes them favor their own. It’s good if this helps us protect our babies, but not as desirable if this means we are predisposed to work against others that aren’t related to us.

Which brings me to the tweet-up. There we were, about a dozen people, who were mainly connected through quick posts of 140 characters or less. The key word in last sentence is, of course, connected.

This gives me hope for the human race. If we can celebrate the fact that our roots touch in digital spaces like facebook and twitter, and this alone can bring us together to support each other, than there is indeed hope that we can nourish each other’s growth and someday create a peaceful, verdant world.

Plants may favor their own, but they'll also thrive when placed among many varieties. May we also be committed to do the same.

Plants may favor their own, but they'll also thrive when placed among many differing varieties. May we also be committed to do the same.

Juggling

Report From PIA – February 2

I often remark that like many garden communicators, I keep several balls in the air. Writing books, or speaking, isn’t usually enough to make a living. So like many of my fellow writers who focus on gardens, I do other things. In my case, it’s landscape consulting and hosting a weekly radio program.

Not to mention balancing in the rest of life. Volunteer work, positions of responsibility with the organizations I belong to, and personal interests are added onto professional work. This is just how life is for most people, I think: we are jugglers.

Juggling isn’t just about keeping it all afloat. Like the entertainers who rotate balls, bowling pins or flaming torches in the air, when you’re involved in several activities, it’s about developing a rhythm.

When I looked into juggling, I discovered that there are as many juggling moves as there are ways of gardening. All depend on a particular tempo or regularity I suppose, and I think that a predicable pace is also helpful for those of us who juggle metaphorically as well.

All of this on my mind because my day did not develop with the rhythm I expected. Unforeseen events turned things around and made me focus in different directions and change my plans. In the end, all is well, but for a while my work, expectations and arrangements fell to the floor and bounced around like dropped balls and missed pins.

We gardeners/jugglers/humans need to learn the art of being rhythmically consistent, while at the same time remaining flexible…and willing to pick up what we’ve dropped, and start again.

What does this photo have to do with this report from PIA? It was taken at the Farmer's Market on Martha's Vineyard, so not related directly to my day. But it's a pretty shot, you must admit, and I need something quickly because it's after 10 PM and I'm exhausted from a busy day that didn't go as planned. So I'm juggling here...

What does this photo have to do with this report from PIA? It was taken at the Farmer's Market on Martha's Vineyard, so not related directly to my day. But it's a pretty shot, you must admit, and I need something quickly because it's after 10 PM and I'm exhausted from a busy day that didn't go as planned. So I'm juggling here...

The Creative Process

Report From PIA – Feb 1

Every time I pull into the driveway I see the fence we constructed to hide some utility boxes. OK, OK… we didn’t build them, my husband did. This barrier does the job, but the shape of it bothers me. It kind of screams, “Structure to hide something even more ugly!”

So as I pass by, I imagine how we could improve the form. I’ve already planted my favorite trumpet vine, Campsis x tagliabuana ‘Madame Galen’, next to the fence, but even covered with greenery the shape isn’t the most pleasing.

This got me thinking about the creative process in general. We see a situation we’d like to improve, get an idea about something we’d like to make, or begin daydreaming and asking, “What if…”

For me, this process is exciting. Deciding what to do, and then figuring out how to accomplish it, and then taking it step by step until it’s finished is very satisfying. I loved this creative progression when I was an artist doing photo-generated collages, and I enjoy it now when I’m designing gardens instead of art on paper.

Basically, the creative process is having the interest, or the courage, to walk down that road of what if and see what results.

Here's the enclosure, and I'm sure that you can see what I mean... even when the shrub that's planted on the right side, and the trumpet vine that's planted on the corner get growing, it's still two harsh horizontal lines that aren't pleasing.

Here's the enclosure, and I'm sure that you can see what I mean... even when the shrub that's planted on the right side, and the trumpet vine that's planted on the corner get growing, it's still two harsh horizontal lines that aren't pleasing.

So I imagine what lines I would like to see, and this is what I've decided to do. We'll (my husband will) put an upright post on the corner and we'll run a heavy rope from that structure down to the ends on each side. Even without the trumpet vine it will look better, and once the vine goes up the corner, the new post, and then down the ropes it will be perfect!

So I imagine what lines I would like to see, and this is what I've decided to do. We'll (my husband will) put an upright post on the corner and we'll run a heavy rope from that structure down to the ends on each side. Even without the trumpet vine it will look better, and once the vine goes up the corner, the new post, and then down the ropes it will be perfect!

Blogging Every Day

Report From PIA – January 31

I’m at the six-month mark in my commitment to post a Report From PIA every day. It was cold outside today, but the sky was a clear blue and the sun, still low in the sky, lit up every plant that hasn’t gone to ground for the winter. I especially appreciated the Sedum and Sempervivum this afternoon, because they add color to the bare ground, so I took some pictures for today’s entry.

Blogging every day has been work, no doubt about it. Since I’m a writer, I can’t be content with something dashed off and posted; I write, edit, rewrite, and rewrite again. For me, part of the challenge is to put enough down to convey what I want to say, but to get rid of all the extra words. Believe me, there are always extra words.

One of my core beliefs is that the good stuff usually takes some effort. Posting every day is work, but like gardening, that labor brings gifts beyond what you set out to create.

Daily blogging is a good writing exercise. Saying publicly that you intend to post daily provides the discipline to sit down, consider thoughtfully, organize your musings and write them down. I have never kept a daily journal, nor decided to regularly write from one perspective, but this blog gives me a reason, and the self-control, to do that.

Knowing that I need to post daily means that I’m constantly keeping my antennae up. This is the biggest gift in this whole exercise. I need to be alert, watching for things that are especially interesting or thought provoking. I have to be more reflective and look at my daily experiences from a variety of viewpoints. Writing on a daily basis keeps me awake.

Because I choose to use photographs as part of my posts, blogging regularly sharpens my vision as well. I need to grab my camera and see what’s there, even on days when I’m feeling lazy, or when the weather isn’t very welcoming. I am prompted to look at my gardens (real and metaphorical) more closely, and to pay attention, both to the little things and the overall landscape.

Blogging every day has introduced me to new people that I probably wouldn’t have connected with had they not found something interesting here. It’s kept me in touch with friends, who tell me that they stop by frequently, even if they don’t always comment. Thanks, guys! I believe that our lives are enriched by these connections.

Because I want to make increase such contacts, I started to use facebook and twitter each day as well, and love how these digital “back fences” turn the world into a small town.

Writing a daily post is also an exercise in faith. Most days I have no idea what I’ll write about, and I walk through the day believing that the subject of the day will appear. It always has.

Daily blog posting has made me rich and famous. Not really…just seeing if you’re paying attention. Although I can truly say that all of the above is a type of wealth, so perhaps writing daily has made me prosperous after all.

So here, at the halfway point, I’m thinking that I may not stop this practice when I reach the end of August. I’ve grown fond of my readers and being more open to inspiration. Like the Sedum and Sempervivum that I photographed today, my daily posts add color to my life.

The hens and chicks by the stepping stones have turned purple - I must plant some other varieties and create a tapestry!

The hens and chicks by the stepping stones have turned purple - I must plant some other varieties and create a tapestry!

Sedum 'Angelina' is lime-green in the summer and golden-coral in the winter. It grows quickly too - a great ground cover plant.

Sedum 'Angelina' is lime-green in the summer and golden-coral in the winter. It grows quickly too - a great ground cover plant.

Fast growing and low, Sedum lydium is one of the Stepables plants. It is bright green in the summer and red in the winter.

Fast growing and low, Sedum lydium is one of the Stepables plants. It is bright green in the summer and red in the winter.

Gardening and Rejuvenation

Report From PIA – January 30

Today I arrived home in the late-afternoon feeling an exhaustion accumulated over the past few days. Yesterday I helped my former neighbors move, last night was kept awake by The Dog’s storm phobias, and this morning hosted GardenLine. Right after the show I raced from the studio to a BEF board meeting, so by the time I got home in the mid-afternoon, I was drained. I contemplated a nap, but I really wished it wasn’t winter so I could go work in the garden.

I thought back to a day last June when I’d been speaking out of state.  The combination of the three-hour drive in each direction, along with the exertion necessary to be “on” and satisfy a large group of strangers, had left me worn out. But it was June, and a few dozen plants still waited in their small six-packs, so I remember quickly changing clothing and going out in the garden.

Assuming that I would just tuck a few plants in the ground and then go in and make dinner, I grabbed a my garden gloves. Right. I’d been a gardener for over thirty years at that point …what was I thinking? It was late June, and the weeds were having a field day. Everywhere I looked there were weeds to yank and spreading perennials to edit, and although I was tired and wanted to get a few annuals planted, I started pulling the unwanted plants out of the garden.

Two hours later I was dirty, sweaty, and feeling slightly overwhelmed. There were two huge piles of weeds on the lawn, and only few annuals had been slipped into the soil, but much to my surprise I was no longer exhausted. Grimy and a bit tired, yes, but feeling much more lively than when I started working. I was nowhere near to being finished with the weeding and planting but I felt better.

How I long for that rejuvenating workout now, in late January!

People who exercise by running or going into the gym often say that although they felt drained and worn out at the start of their routine, they feel a combination of physically tired but nevertheless very energized when they finish. I find that working in the garden produces the same result.

Gardening is good exercise, it’s true, but laboring in the landscape is far more than a pleasing endorphin rush. There is something about gardening that feeds the spirit while the body is keeping fit. Working with the land connects us with people throughout the world and over the ages, and creating something wonderful in partnership with nature is deeply satisfying.

I’m trying to remember that as I walk outside and the ground is frozen solid. I see weeds that have spouted in September and grown large in the fall, but when I try to pull them out today, the cold ground holds them firmly. Sigh.

Spring may be a long way off, but I remember the benefits of working in the garden, holding them close as I wait for the change in seasons.

Yes, I go to the gym and workout so that I have some of that energizing feeling, but I long for that same exercise in my green and growing gardens.

Yes, I go to the gym and workout so that I have some of that energizing feeling, but I long for that same exercise in my green and growing gardens.