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!

Microclimate Triumphs and Tears

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.