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."

Several Sweet Potatoes Later

Once upon a time in the fourth grade, I grew a huge sweet potato plant that I sustained through several years. I think that was an accomplishment for a nine year old and probably represents the first green thing I ever tended. No doubt the idea came from a Science column in a Highlights or Scholastic magazine. Remembering that plant with its lush greenery and probable tolerance of neglect, I wanted another. Despite two false starts, I have triumphed

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Fifty-one years after the first plant, I began the project from memory with a potato from the produce department of the local grocery store. To the best of my recollection, all I had to do was use toothpicks to support the potato butt-end in a glass of water and wait. I watched for six weeks and saw absolutely no change in the potato, not even rot. I added research to my remembering and discovered today's commercial potatoes are sprayed in order to prevent the eyes from sprouting and therefore have a longer shelf life. Next logical step, I bought a four dollar organic sweet potato from the Blue Hill Coop, stuck the toothpicks in, and perched the new subject in a new glass of water. One month later: nada. I put this notion back on the shelf inside my head until three weeks ago I spied a sweet potato with a hint of sprout in the John Edwards Market in Ellsworth. This potato too claimed to be organic. Again with the toothpicks and again with the water  but this time I met with success. I watched with delight as a lovely set of roots spread through the bottom of the glass and tiny deep purple leaves unfurled at the top. Yesterday, I transplanted the potato into soil and today I stare at it for many moments at a time as it will be three weeks until I plant seeds under my new EnviroGro light. Thank you, Potato, for growing.