After-Christmas Walk

Contrary to popular belief that gardening ends in the Fall, I have been "gardening" throughout December. I label any outdoor endeavor as gardening, perhaps that is my reasoning. It has taken me most of the month to tote away the debris from the three Nor'easters. My wildlife shelter/debris pile is immense, I do so hope there is a bunny within it. The fattest-possible gray and red squirrels preside over the bird feeders. The onslaught of 2015 seed catalogs has begun and I read the wildflower/pollinator seed mixes to see what already exists within my garden and might exist should Providence prevail. The rhododendrons seem well, their leaves variously droop and come back to life with each passing bout of cold weather. I have rebuilt the stone walls surrounding the shed door and filled those mini-beds with soil. I believe they are my weed-free, full sun locations for next season. The geese have produced soiled hay as is their job and I have moved that hay to the newest compost area. I loved the all-day rain on Christmas. Soak on, rot on. Walter the Dog and I had the spare time to meander through the back woods. There is a lot of work to be done there as well, to clear the paths for our fourteen year old dog friend Keene, who is quite blind and needs an air-lift over logs. We saw this stellar example of shelf fungi.

Actual Thanksgiving/Another Nor'easter

Happy Thanksgiving

I am thankful for this young solo heron that stood in my driveway and posed for me,  and I wish him well on his travels South. I am thankful for all the small trees and branches that came down in the early November storm. I used the branches to build a debris pile that I hope will shelter many a rabbit, vole and mouse through the winter. My geese love all the leftover scraps from the school's cafeteria and the flock of visiting Mallards love all the leftover scraps from the geese. The red squirrel who lives in the shed praises the grain and seed spilled each day as I feed the deer and the chickadees. I am thankful to whomever brought nine bags of leaves to the dump. I brought the bags home and used them to grow the pollinator garden ever larger for next summer's feast. And the leaves were chipped, how glorious and compostable is that? I am thankful to the woman in Blue Hill who places bags of horse manure and a Mason jar by her curbside. I am so happy to buy manure. All the brown-ness and bareness of November just seems like a rearranging of life to me. My Halloween pumpkin is happily rotting and destined to leave some seeds to sprout next May, a few winterberry branches are my bright red, next-holiday decorations on the deck - the cedar waxwings ate all the rest from the bushes. The bounty and the blessings are everywhere.

November News

Brown warblers, sparrows, chickadees, juncos and nuthatches are not pollinators now but my November garden is a-flurry with them and I am enchanted by their presence. All the brown stems, canes, and seed heads seem to be sprouting birds. If ever I had doubts about not furiously cleaning and tidying the "debris" of last season, those doubts are gone. Tidying can happen in April. It's easier to photograph the birds at the feeder than against a backdrop of brown, tan and yellow - so here's a view of just a few of my visitors. One feeder is slightly misshapen from nocturnal visits by raccoon and deer.

An early snowstorm walloped the Island last weekend and today was spent with the background noise of generators and chainsaws (we still do not have power). Spurred by the removal of broken branches and fallen trees, we were inspired to cut a path through trees and krummholz into a clearing. (One cannot do dishes or laundry when there is no electricity. The house is distressing. One must therefore remain outdoors in the sunshine.) Now there is a Secret Garden ready for suggestions. Acid soil, excellent drainage, partial sun, sort of south facing but surrounded by balsam and spruce. What do you think should grow there?

Compost Bonanza

I was ecstatic to find six huge bags of leaves at the burn pile at the dump, although I could only fit four of them into my Forrester (damn the need to buy groceries next). I had already placed a screen in front of my newest compost pile and begun the process of adding kitchen scraps and soiled hay to the existing layer of cardboard topped by grass clippings. Given the addition of a layer of seaweed and then the leaves, I have gone from "building a new compost area" to "waiting for Spring and the resulting fertile planting site" in a matter of two weeks. The location qualifies as partial shade as it is south-facing but also in the shade from the adjacent trees and the shed as the sunlight moves across the garden. Yes to well-drained, and let's not forget the need to be deer resistant. Spicebush? Serviceberry? Oregon grape holly? Rock cress aubrieta? Packera obovata? I love dreaming.

October Complacency

I was feeling quite proud of myself for planting absolutely nothing the last three weeks. Not only that, I have walked out of several nurseries empty handed, having visited for the sole purpose of buying a pumpkin or shopping in the associated Farmers Market. I worked on my Halloween display and I re-worked my stone wall. But no new plants for me, no-no-no. I toted water to the rhododendrons whenever there was a dry spell longer than six days. I pulled apart mature seed heads and distributed their contents. I envisioned cosmos and calendula and morning glory seeds in new places next season. I began a new compost pile and raked leaves from the roadside to aid to the soiled straw from the geese and soiled shavings from the rabbits. But I just said NO to the purchase of new plants. I cautioned myself that any week there will be hard frost, we are past a time for putting down new roots. I am past a time for daily check-ins to spot watering needs. I organized the shed, I brought in all the ceramic planters and birdbaths. My winter mode was switched on, the motor that plants from April onward was switched off. So I thought until I remembered alliums. I wanted to plant alliums this Fall. I wanted to see alliums sprout up giant and crazy and deer resistant next Spring. PayPal to the rescue, the bulbs are ordered, my trowel will not rest yet.

October Garden

I have been reading a lot of debate and ranting about the garden in Fall:  is it wondrous or is it barren of beauty? I'm not ready to exclaim that the October garden is as glorious as a May or July garden. But a garden is never without merit. The pollinators keep visiting, just varying their species in shifts. There is plenty of color and color contrast. Also, I side with the gardeners who do not tidy up and there is a bevy of small birds helping themselves to seed heads and no doubt other small creatures burrowing down through canes and fallen foliage in preparation for colder temperatures. Between the constant movement of the insects, birds and mammals and the daily changes of hue and texture, I believe my Fall garden is anything but dull.

September Terrarium

The most beautiful terrarium I ever possessed has been waiting for me in the woods behind my tool/rabbit shed.  I made my first terrariums in 1992 with my class of seventh graders and for twenty two years since I have been buying attractive glass containers and experimenting. I have bought books, I have Googled, I have done this and that and the other thing. I estimate I have created or supervised the creation of  more than thirty terrariums, less than seventy five. Most of them have turned into a bottle of wet dirt or a bottle of grass. Then this afternoon I was collecting moss for entirely another project and discovered this glass bottle with soil, moss, and ferns inside - one frond emerging from the mouth of the bottle. Perhaps I should have left it in the woods. But for just a little while, I have brought it indoors where it perches on a north facing windowsill. It stuns me.

On the other side of the garden,  a neon pink aster is blazing forth. You can read about it at http://www.abnativeplants.com/index.cfm/fuseaction/plants.plantDetail/plant_id/96/index.htm
I just call it Glamour-ata glamour-ata, love the color, loves the bees upon it, love the contrast with the zinnias nearby, love the fact it blooms when everything else other than black-eyed Susans are well past blooming. My September was full of ignoring but enjoying the garden. The sulfurs (yellow butterflies) are here, the wild asters and goldenrod abound but I have done very little to support the garden other than water the rhododendrons and think about the to-do list come hard frost. How lovely that the flowers thrive and surprise me nevertheless.

August, Come and Gone

I spent the majority of August traveling, first to Atlanta and then to Portland, Oregon. Beyond my Abuela Adventure, I saw a lot of personal gardens and I visited the Atlanta Botanical Garden and returned to Maine and visited the Coastal Maine Botanical Garden. I was most impressed by the horticulture mosaics and reminded that gorgeous plants and gorgeous plantings take a veritable army of gardeners to create them and maintain them.

Therefore, when I take note of my soil which still needs much amending and my lack of underground irrigation and the fact that my army of gardeners consists solely of ME, I am satisfied with the profusion of flowers that exists. Currently, there are zinnia, cosmos, rudbeckia, gallardia, echinacea, native bee balm and several varieties of goldenrod hosting fritillaries, red admirals and white admirals. It's my kind of jungle.

Happy Birthday to Me

I had a handful of Lowe's gift cards which I traded in for peat moss, pearlite and three berry-colored Echinacea. There were nine Fritillary butterflies on the plants while they sat in my driveway. Now that the plants are "installed," there is an absolute flock of butterflies. Plus one end of my garden is changing from white to yellow while the Bunny Barn end is turning pink. I find it difficult to capture the butterflies in a photo but they are there:

Then I went treasure hunting to my favorite antiques shop -  West Bay Antiques -  in Gouldsboro. The crab basket I spied last spring was still waiting for me. Now it is ensconced near my old compost pile, ready to serve as a base for the cucumber volunteers. Or are they squash? I'll know by September. The citronella geranium which I can't seem to kill sits on top of the crab basket. I love how this plant smells but I have not yet been able to train it into a pleasing shape. Its current form is what shot back up when I hacked off all the winter sprawl. "Hacked" is probably not the best garden verb. I believe "coppice" means the same thing and conjures up an image of me with a lavender floppy hat and flower trug vs. the reality of my blaze orange sweatshirt.

Hypertufa

I had a combined Mah Jongg-Hypertufa party on July 1. My buddies made planters while I made a tabletop. I did try to make a planter following a Martha Stuart recipe because I wanted a large planter with a basket weave surface: I bought an old wicker hamper at a yard sale and wrapped it with duct tape and created a foam insert as a form. It was difficult to make the walls uniform as I pushed the cement/peat moss/perlite mixture around the hamper interior. Although I know the curing of cement is a chemical process and cement can cure underwater, I saw a marked difference in the curing of the planters vs. the curing of the duct tape-wicker-foam sandwich. End result is my hamper planter never attained any robustness and crumbled into bits. But my table top is fairly gorgeous and I hope the edges grow moss. Actually, I may attempt the yogurt moss blender method to expedite the growing of moss. Of course, that experiment has never worked for me the past five times I have tried it, but garden hope springs eternal.

Butterflies!

Yes, there are many bees and wasps and other miscellaneous pollinators in my garden, as well as a lady beetle (Did you know there are hundreds species of lady beetle in Maine? I have a poster in my classroom I can check tomorrow for the exact large number...). But these are the butterflies, my favorite visitors this week, aside from a spotted fawn. This is why the milkweed and the goldenrod and mint are invited to come and stay.

In order of appearance below: American Beauty, Fritillary on zinnia, Fritillary among daisies, Monarch on milkweed and Summer Azure on forget-me-not. Summer is very sweet for all of us.

I Can't See My Feet

I'm not complaining, I'm just saying: I can't see my feet, there is too much happening. Myosotis is blooming bright blue between the stepping stones along with white alyssum and I am careful to step over both. The Alaska daisies are four feet tall and white seems to be the current predominant color given all the daisies, yarrow, feverfew and chamomile.

Yes, there is also Rudbeckia, Artemesia, lambs ears and lavender, but it is the color white that repeats itself throughout. I took this next picture by the rain barrel just to indicate the height of it all. Two days of heavy rain and high wind has slanted quite a few stems in a catty-wompus fashion but the pollinators don't care. They enter the blooms from whatever direction necessary. You can also see the "garden" at the back of the house adjacent to the wild side which begins with a field of Comptonia.

My thrill for the coming week is to watch the Unknowns bloom and then identify them. I did sow at least ten packets of seed last May. I have come to believe the geese ate all the marigold seedlings but what about the cockscomb? the zinnia? I wander around spying clenched flowers buds with hints of color within and I think: "What are you?" Next week, I'll know.

Name This Plant

Buddies and I were walking in Fort Point State Park in Stockton Springs July 8th when we happened upon this plant which reminded us of Queen Anne's Lace on steroids. We tried using the Audubon New England Nature Guide App to identify the plant to no avail. We then tried the simple key on https://gobotany.newenglandwild.org/ and no items matched our description. Then we googled the phrase "giant Queen Anne's Lace." Aha! We made an immediate match - our plant is giant hogweed. Heracleum mantegazzianum, also known as  cartwheel-flower, giant cow parsnip, hogsbane or giant cow parsley is a plant in the family Apiaceae.  It can grow up to 14 feet high and have flowers that measure a foot across. The plant can cause painful irritation, permanent scarring and, in rare cases, blindness. It is phototoxic which means if you get the sap on your skin  and then expose the skin to light, you may have a  response resembling a third degree burn. Giant hogweed is on the federal invasive list. Next step is to call  the cooperative extension so the plant can be treated by professionals.

Lush-ness

When considering the glass half empty/glass half full debate, I am prone to say I am glad I have a glass. Therefore, I will not enumerate the many days of lower than average temperature this past April and May. And June. I am glad I have a garden. And the plants don't want a sweatshirt and a hat - they are getting taller and wider and greener with the extended Spring. Now the color begins.

The Progress of Seedlings and Cages

Do not be fooled by the white blurs in the background. Yes, there are white bags of yet-to-be-distributed horse manure. But the featured white blobs are sleeping geese. They are pretending to be bucolic. My network of lobster boat propeller cages and topiaries and wastebaskets keeps the geese at bay enough for Great Growth to occur. I thank the gods for the long photoperiod of Downeast Maine which, combined with the recently arrived warmth, grows my garden exponentially each day. Any seedling that is small however needs its own cage to survive.

Not Exactly Waiting

Knowing the forecast held three days of rain, I was active yesterday afternoon and this o'dawn planting my seeds. My perennials continue to thrill me in a very green way - everything in my garden is a shade of green. The weigela has buds, the peonies have buds. Yes, the ladies-in-a-bath and columbine are both actually blooming. But the blooms themselves are sparse and not photo worthy. There is not enough CONTRAST to qualify as color. Then I checked the mail. One side of driveway is spectacular with bunchberry. The other side of my driveway has hints of Indian Cucumber-Root with hundreds to follow. I love Spring. Oh, did you say it's June 4th? I say, "It's Maine."

Gardening in Somewhere Else

I was lucky enough to garden in Atlanta over the Memorial Day weekend and leave my constant highs of low sixties temperatures behind in Maine. All the moonflower seedlings were dutifully planted into the soil and awaited any glimpse of sun and warmth they could get. The moss rose continued to creep millimeter by millimeter closer to the grow light. I wished them well and boarded my plane. Meanwhile, the most superb garden helper in the universe helped me settle in some succulents, verbena, Rudbeckia maxima set off by Juncus fillformis 'Spirilis', and two pots of glorious firecracker plant, Russelia equisetiformis. A picture tells a million words.

Flowers at Last.

May 12, 2014
I hear it's snowing in Denver. I don't have snow but I also don't have soil temperatures above sixty. I did plant the Phlox drummondii seeds by the shed since that bed faces south and receives yet even more heat reflected from the adjacent shed walls. My computer and Shopbot generated trellis got two coats of red paint and was installed behind the weigela which is nicely waking up. The daffodils and jonquils are bloomed and, given the ten day forecast of No Great Heat, I believe will be with me for a nice while. The peonies have stuck their red stalks tentatively into the air and the garden is just a quilt of silvery green and chartreuse foliage. On the wild side, I have seen coltsfoot blooming by the roadside and there are bluets and violets everywhere.

Change

The gate is up and it looks superb but the geese have found an alternative route up to the garden. I have changed their title/job description from Compost Aides to Slug Patrol and that makes it all OK. There are many perennials that they do not nibble on. Therefore, these are the perennials which should grow here and do grow here. The moonflower seeds dutifully sprouted sandwiched between damp paper towels within Ziploc bags and then I planted them into pots. And then, voila - seedlings. Temperatures continue to yo-yo between forty something and fifty something although the Sun fools the weatherpeople and creates bursts of sixty something during my day. Tomas the rabbit is moved from the basement to his garden shed and loves watching the theater of growth and geese. At least, that's what I imagine he thinks.

Yard Sale Season and Nursery Season

Spring may be officially begun but daily temperatures are stalled. Highs flirt near sixty, lows seldom go below forty but that translates into too cold soil. Many, many of my perennials ignore the facts and grow just a little larger every day: ladies mantle, Shasta daisy, feverfew, lambs ears, lilies and lavender. The shrubs know it is spring as well: mock orange, weigela, climbing hydrangea all show signs of budding. The mint is ready to take over the world. The portulaca indoors is tiny but happy under the grow lights. I have moonflower seeds soaking in the kitchen, and desert bluebell seeds scattered on the south facing slope past the birdfeeder. Their seed packet said "two weeks before the last frost" and I believe I am there. I have been to my first yard sale of 2014 and scavenged four free cinder blocks for my compost  structure. A junk store yielded a pedestal perfect for my terra cotta yard sale find from last summer. Rhododendron maximum independence has been purchased from O'Donal's Nursery and installed. I sawed through the last of the tree seedling stumps in order to have the perfect woods path for my blind Jack Russell but I was dressed in fleece and a hat. So it's not warm, but hey, the snow is gone and there is actual green in the yard.

Rites of Spring

I have not been on hiatus. I have been in the throes of Spring which include Visiting Spring, Planning Spring, and Starting Spring. First, I spent seven days in Portland, Oregon being amazed by my Princess Granddaughter and two incredible botanical gardens. I visited Spring. Just the act of walking from 78th to 67th Street drew my eye to Spring in a place of similar latitude but such dissimilar climate. Both locations (Portland and Deer Isle) hover around 44 North. But yard after yard, garden after garden, every blossom proclaimed that frost is very old news. Oregon ain't Maine.

Under the guise of buying vegetable seeds with my daughter for her raised beds, I purchased the seeds of Phacelia campanularia, Cobaea scandens and Agastache rupetris. Bring on the birds, bees and hummingbirds.  The cubby of my desk is stuffed full with seed packets and my notebook ponders on. "Is there a place and reason for a Dutchman's Pipe???" This is how I plan Spring.

Returning from the blossoms in the Pacific Northwest to my brown and basically frozen world was not easy. The calendar is the bulwark of my being, April inches me closer to May. Reading the seed packet words "When to sow inside: 6-8 weeks before average late frost" sends me into a frenzy. I postponed my indoor planting in order to avoid seedlings that would dare to appear when I was not watching. But now I ask myself: exactly when is my last frost? Am I late from start to finish already? I began my truest rite of spring. I wet the soil medium. I tore open a packet of portulaca and devised the best way of planting such dust-like seeds. I marveled when the fourth pack of portulaca types revealed pelleted seeds. I started Spring in my kitchen in the same manner I have for thirty years.

I stare at wet dirt and wait. This is the best miracle of all.

Recent Emergers

True Spring is creeping closer a millimeter at a time. The feet of my metal chicken are totally out of the snow. Skunk cabbage is poking up. There are a plethora of articles about this plant which produces its own heat and therefore warms the ground enough to be the first thing UP and growing. I just love the colors. Dark red and yellow-y green after months of white and gray and black. Winter has its own beauty which I well appreciate. Now I am on the lookout for BRIGHT. I have also crossed the threshold of "My world is frozen - all I can do is saw and snowshoe" to "My world is thawed and I could be outdoors 24 hours a day raking and toting branches and distributing all that lovely poop-blessed straw from the geese."