April the Idiot

“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.

Budzapoppin'!

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

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.

Resolved: Be a Better Gardener in 2009

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!