Best Foot Forward?

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

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!

An Outdoor Makeover

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.)