Gardening with Lucky

Image: Creative Commons License

There are times when one wishes they had not made such good friends with a bird. The term birdbrain takes on an entirely new meaning. Like the day I made the new raised planting bed on the north side of the deck.

There I was peacefully playing in the fresh, dark soil and minding my own business. The planting was now down to the half flat of Begonias I saved to fill in the outside corner. Suddenly a flapping of rusty red wings plopped an eight pound body with skinny green legs in the midst of my activity. Damn bird! She was squashing two of my just installed Begonias.

"Lucky! Get out of here ... go on now."

Of course she stood firm, craning her neck around and surveying the scene. I know what her next move is before it has entered that pea sized brain. There is nothing red here so she is about to start digging for her favorite wiggling delicacy. An activity that will not end until she hits the hard ground below. There are no grubs in my just screened soil.

"Shoo! Get!"

I was rewarded with the evil chicken eye. A swiveling head motion that puts their profile face first and places that beady eye up close and personal above your nose. At times the evil eye is comical, but not while the miniature dinosaur is crushing my flowers. She was testing her authority to the limit.

I gently pushed her aside to move her off the broken little plants. But ol' Luck was not in the mood to be told what to do right then, and commenced to digging. The soil she removed was settling over all the little Begonias. At a furious pace, I might add - I no longer wonder why chickens have such sharp edged toes. Those feet work like prehistoric rototillers with a miffed pea brain is minding the controls.

Having had enough of her brand of help, I pushed her off the end of the bed. It wasn't but 8 inches to the grass so I wasn't worried about hurting her. This strategy only served to set the imperious Queen Lucky's feathers on end.

One should use caution when dealing with the head of the hen house. She had more power than any of those cocky roosters. No one, or should I say no bird, stood up against her. I, however, am farther up the totem pole and reserve the right to stop her from time to time.

Shall we say that we weren't seeing eye to eye right then? If you think that chickens have no expressions, then you have never lived in close proximity to them. She stood on the grass almost shaking with anger over her unseating from a moment of industrious glee. Wee little mind that she had, the decision was instantly reached as to the next strategic move should be.

She jumped right back up there next to me and pecked a hole in the back of my hand. Having had the final word in a one sided argument, she drew herself up with all her lofty airs and strutted away like the Queen of England. While I sat there cussing her feathered behind as the wound began to bleed.

Lucky was normally my pal and followed me everywhere. She was actually mad at me. Refusing to keep company with me for weeks. If she saw me coming - she ran the other way. If I tried talking to her when I did get close, she stuck her head in the air and dramatically marched away.

Snubbed by a chicken - can you imagine? What an uppity old broad! She may rule the hen house, but she wasn't in charge of me. Tit for tat, I began ignoring her completely. After a couple of weeks, she must have decided to let the loss of a power struggle slide. She returned to being friendly and placing herself in the middle of any activity that involved in digging in the dirt.

It was rather hard to dig a hole with her around. If you were walking with a shovel, Lucky would come screaming from any direction to help you uncover what lay below. Somehow she figured out that the implement meant there was assistance in uncovering juicy white grubs. If you think digging a hole is hard, try doing it with a big chicken jumping in and out of the hole. Don't stop - she'll attack your feet and untie your shoes.

Go Green? Rainbow is Better!

Easy Meadow Mix Early
(Image copyright Tammy Clayton 2003)

I always thought that a meadow planted with waves of different blooming perennials would be lovely. That is how Mother Nature clothes the Earth … in sweeps and drifts that grow and spread in the directions the wind and rain sends them. Never in a matched size row, more of a free-formed waft with the older tallest members toward the center and the height diminishes with the youngest beings at the ends. Just like the ocean, where waves rise and fall, a meadow will have high points and low points and change constantly over the days of summer.

One fall, I decided to feed the birds by not deadheading, as I normally would have. The result of this was the discovery of three common garden plants that would lend themselves perfectly to this kind of planting. This created a living bouquet that changed color and shape with the turning of the summer weeks. Left unchecked, the entire area became the most vibrant tangle of bloom power.

The combination of tall Daisies, Purple Coneflower, and Black-eyed Susan will bring a pleasant view from early summer into fall. The daisies start blooming first in late May to early June, depending on your growing zone. Crisp white then intertwines with purple as the Coneflowers begin blooming a few weeks later. When the daisies finish the early flowering period, sunny Black-eyed Susan begins mingling their bold faces with the purple of the Coneflowers. When does the show stop? Black-eyed Susan (also known as Brown Betty) will throw color into early fall. All of these will happily dwell in full sun and low to moderate moisture situations. Many times, the Daisies will put forth a light second bloom in early fall when the weather cools off. This gift will dust the golden Black-eyed Susan display with a smattering of cooling white.

Easy Meadow Mix Late
(Image copyright Tammy Clayton 2004)

All three of these long blooming, hardworking timeless perennials will work well in a rather dry situation once established. These lovely garden staple plants will freely self-sow freely, allowing the planting to thicken and naturalize your wave patterns by blurring the edges over time. These three long blooming meadow dwellers are perennial plants. But why stop here? There are more choices to be had at the candy store!

The addition of spring color would be most welcome to this simple planting scheme. I would use annual wildflower Red Poppies for this early session of flowering, the most beautiful of all wildflowers. This particular poppy variety is sometimes called “Shirley Poppy” or “Flanders Poppy” which is why the American Legion hands them out by the millions near Memorial Day. The appearance of the Red Poppy will be one you will look forward to as each winter ends. These will fade completely from view once the rest of the plants start their seasonal display. Poppies prefer dry feet and bright sunny exposure to perform at their best.

There are many other wildflower plants, both annual and perennial, that will put forth their loveliest face in a meadow planting where little maintenance and low to average water is required. As to how many times a year you need to mow your meadow? Is one time a year an acceptable amount of times to have to perform this chore? In the late fall, after the first frost, you will want to mow to disperse the seeds for next years meadow make-over as well as clean up the brushy appearance that will remain when nature goes to sleep.

What will be there over the cold season? Sweet memories of summer, a treasure that the future holds and will repeat. If everything were constantly in plain sight, what would you have to anticipate? The magic of flowers would dim swiftly if they were always there and never changing. Like beloved old friends, one looks forward to their yearly visit with much excitement. Some of them stay a day or two, others my actually drop by for a couple of weeks once a year. Some will visit a couple of times a year with a spell of absence between. No matter how fleeting their visit, it is something we relish and look forward to repeating for years on end.

Split Personalities

For reasons unknown to me, the strangest things have happened in my garden and far flung container culture of ornamental plants. Trust me, my collection of plants residing in plastic pots far outdoes anything most of you can claim to be harboring, even if somewhat shamefully. Mine covered an acre of ground, the patios, the deck, the front porch and the front of the barn. I disguised the entire affair as a nursery, but in reality nothing ever arrived to add to stock that didn't totally appeal to me. This nursery sold my taste in plants. Totally personal branding at large.

One year I got into clematis really heavy and Julka was once of the more intriguing cultivars added to the catalog. Mind you any of these plants that graced the catalog was destined to take up residence in my private collection. It is the obsession that fed the madness completely devouring what was once a lovely sloping manicured lawn. Who needs all that grass? It was much lovelier hidden by thousands of plants in black plastic condos.

What became of the coveted and won Julka Clematis? It developed a personality disorder in season two. There is no photo touching done in the image above. The thing actually produced dark red and brilliant blue-purple flowers at one time - simutaneously - on the same stem. A truly psychotic bloomer which seemed to now be so confused that it had no idea who it was.

This vine was affectionately dubbed Sybil since it was quite obviously was no longer Julka. The behavior far exceeded the often troublesome problem of exciting new plants reverting to one of the parents used in breeding. Here was a Clematis that had became so mixed up as to stage an argument with itself that continued all summer long. It never tired of differing in in its own opinion.

Were it not for the damnable rabbits who chewed it off at the ground over the winter, murdering poor confused Sybil in cold blood - you might be able to purchase your own split personality vine today. Have I mentioned how much I abhor rabbits? Does anyone know WHY they only target the things you treasure most? Couldn't they just be happy with the other things you wish would silently slip away instead?

I think rabbits should only come in chocolate, wrapped in whimsical foil to complete an Easter basket properly. The only way to control them is to do away with their population ... or build a fortress around your garden that nothing larger than a Japanese beetle can break into. It is far more cost effective to get rid of Thumper and his kin.

Rabbit stew anyone? Dinner will be ready soon. In loving memory of Sybil whose constant and unending argument shall never be forgotten. May she rest in a peace totally unknown to her in life.

G.G.

Safe Insect Control

Interesting! Dust for thought ...



After watching this I looked around to see how much this stuff costs. Guess what I found! If you buy it from a garden supply type company you will pay an arm and a leg. If you buy diatomaceos earth from a pool supply store it is far cheaper. Maybe its because they aren't spelling that word correctly. Allied Pool Supply has it at $19.99 for 25 pounds. This is a material used in pool filters that can be used to combat all those bugs that create havoc in your yard, garden and inside the house.

If spell the word the correct way ... as in diatomaceous earth then you get all the competing garden supply merchants where you can pay from $6.50 for a mere 1.5 pounds to $64.90 for 10 pounds. Simply amazing how the same dehydrated algae substance gains all that sticker shock when they want to sell it to gardeners.

By the way, it can also be used as a growing medium in hydroponic growing. It is used in cat litter due to it's ability to absorb moisture. No more holy hostas ... this will do in the slugs in a jiffy!

World's Only Blue Japanese Maple

At first, it was a normal and quite lovely little red laceleaf maple exuberantly residing along side the kitchen patio. It's dark red foliage was just the right accent for all the colors around it. Had it not been severely damaged by a falling tree en route to market, it would have been adopted out. Yet there it was living large and growing to great beauty that left mo visible traces of the once maiming event.

That was until those rascally rabbits discovered the delectable array of fodder known as my fenced in garden. I suspect this arrival of the cottonball tailed wretches was due to a harsh winter's lack of available food. Indeed, we had all lived in peace and harmony for years prior to this particular fateful off-season.

Whatever the reason for the invasion of the body munchers, the heinous murder of the once fabulous Acer palmatum dissectum 'Crimson Queen' was rendered overnight by creatures with harmful intent. Not only did they raise the branch canopy as far above the ground as could be reached by standing on the tips of their thumper feet, they stripped the specimen of nature from stem to stern of bark and greenwood. Heartless wee buggers!

Spring arrived and nary a sign of leafy life erupted from the sad remains. Not that I expected any such occurrence. Mind you, while I may be a tad crazy, one would never say that I was daft.
Daily, I mourned the loss of the red leaves as I scurried from task to task, completely consumed by the mad work load called spring. The notion dawned that though no longer of the living, the architecture of the remains was a rather lovely sculpture. I toyed with the idea of painting it as a method of resuscitating the corpse.

Every time I laid eyes on it there just beyond the patio table, I considered which color would best set off the framework. White? Red? Purple..... surely one inkling would steer me in the right direction. The perfect idea came not from my own mind but from the infamous Carolyn - inspector of plants and issuer of growing licenses to persons such as myself.

"Oh, how sad - the rabbits have killed your lovely Japanese Maple," she cried when the lifeless evidence crossed her range of vision. "You know," she continued, "it has lovely architecture. Why don't you paint it French Blue? Thats like the hot color right now you know." And so French Blue it was...


Our instincts proved on target, it made the perfect container garden centerpiece invoking comments of wonder from all who spied it there in front of the barn. The first sentence out of any visitor's mouth upon arrival to the location... "Whats up with the blue tree?" It even inspired some folks to consider what color they should paint a dead tree they had to look at.

This all took place the same year that some enterprising soul sold a piece of toast on eBay for $20,000 on which the browning pattern supposedly bore Mother Mary's image. Ever inventive myself, I thought to have something that should surely be worth $100. So my lovely little tree was listed for auction (sans container). I was soon to discover why we should be very concerned about levels of intelligence at large in modern society. Please note how filled in the begonias in the container are in the actual photo posted on the auction, as seen above.

The auction said:
"Aure Asagi Dedo Japanese Maple
World's Only Blue Japanese Maple for sale. The striking and unusual Acer palmatum dissectum 'Azure Usagi Dedo' is the only specimen in existence. Cannot be reproduced. There will never be another one like this offered anywhere ever again. (Auction is for tree only, container and flowers are not offered for sale.)"

Pretty straightforward don't you think? Here is a sampling of the queries I received:

"What color are the leaves?"
"Do the leaves turn red later on?"
"What country did this tree come from?"
"Will you be propagating more of them?"
"I trust you will guarantee it to be in good health."
"Is this photo real or did you do this in PhotoShop?"
"I thought you said it was a tree. It looks suspiciously like a vine to me."

Carolyn and I had a total hoot over these ridiculous questions. Next, I rode the wave to fame on Garden Web as a scam artist of all things. The pitiful purists in the Japanese Maple threads were having a field day scathingly reprimanding my rather questionable reputation. Is it possible that these overly indulged plant collectors could actually assume such haughty demeanor that they cannot see the humor here? This discussion thread went on for about a month after the auction ended. I worry about too much seriousness lavished about by these supposed believers in tomorrow. Like get a life already, buddy!

Newly clad in True Blue for the following season.

The entire little scenario was far to fantastic as fodder for hilarity online. Much to my regret, not one bid was ever placed. The notoriety this won me was a short lived burst of fame which thankfully was never connected to my professional person ... plant shoppers behaving in this manner was more than I wanted to deal with daily. I decided no one else deserved to enjoy my Azure Usagi Dedo Maple. What did I care if no one bought it?

About 3 days after the auction ended, I got an email from a lady regarding the tree. She thought it was just beautiful and wanted to know if she could buy it for $20.00 if shipping were included. It was then that I washed my hands of eBay completely. What sane and reasonably intelligent person would want to try to sell things to this set of mindsets? I told the woman it was sold to some high priced catalog nursery. She was very sad she had missed out on such a special item. Perhaps this is the woman who bought the toast and blew her savings on a hard piece of bread of dubious reputation.

Enjoy the memory of the worlds only Japanese Maple. These kinds of things do not have a longevity rating. It did however gather many interesting comments over the two seasons it graced the driveway approach to my barn. I know that there is a dead apple tree somewhere that is painted rose and used to display a large collection of birdhouses somewhere in mid Michigan.

By the third spring, the brittle structure became so easily broken that a late, heavy snowfall broke most of the limbs off falling out of the tree above it. Rest in peace Azure Usagi Dedo, thank you for brightening so many people's days. May all the little wahbbits find themselves turned into furry slippers. Incidently, Usagi is Japanese for "rabbit", Dedo translates to "dead" and Azure... well the French word just rolled out with the other two words far better than the Japanese counterpart.

Wild Thing ... I Think I Love You

It is weird, somewhat wacky yet wildly wonderful. Probably one of the strangest plants I have ever watched grow! Like something from another planet, this one is best kept potted so you can enjoy it up close and personal. Seeing it go from normal-looking to bizarre is most entertaining. I am a tuned in plant person to be sure, but this strange being is just too bizarre to plant out where it will have any competition masking the daily activity.

I had never heard of this plant when a friend sent me a few seeds. She said it was cool. I looked for photos online and found nothing, so the experimental factor was high. It wasn't until a few years later that any mention of this plant popped up on the Internet. May I say that she is lacking the art of conveying a good picture? But then again, I have seen her idea of creativity, so why would I expect an apt description?

It was only potted to get the seed started ... I had grand plans for an herbary. Suffice it to say, life has a way of mucking up a plan. Instead, the subject remained basking in the intensified heat of full sun on the stone patio. Definitely, living large in that black plastic condo. All the while I raced around it working like the mad hatter at keeping the circus afloat. The herbary now a distant memory.

The blooms appeared atop the stems, so I knew the plant was doing well though set aside for later. As the bulblets grew fatter, I checked on them periodically not sure when to harvest. Lo and behold as I waited for a sureness of proper timing, a most fascinating thing occurred. Another layer of stems shot out of the original clusters and set bloom as well. How queer. Their unfolding was like the most bizarre form of modern art and I raced to freeze the image.

Presenting - Le Onion as art. Perhaps the entertainment factor dims after watching the performance year in and year out like reruns of Star Trek. Not just any old onion, mind you. Rather this one they named the Egyptian Onion Tree. The flavor of which is more than one expects from an onion. I mean , like wow! Wild thing ... I think I love you!

While small (meaning you need quite a few for a small pile of garnish) and not so easy to peel, they are worth all the effort. The flavor is more like a cross between onion and garlic. If you are into Mexican food this is the ticket for a special zip to flavor. They are wonderful on fresh salad as well. If you haven't ever grown or eaten them it is worth hunting down a few seed bulbs to get yourself started.

I suggest pot or tub growing over placing them in the ground. Onions prefer it drier than many other plants and don't get too freaked out if they go without a spritz of moisture one day. One name for this really old plant I discovered is Walking Onion because in the garden it will travel all over from dropping bulblets. Of course if you really want to get a nice sized pile of diced produce to put in some spaghetti sauce, you're going to need more plants than a tub full. I would never have the time to peel that many!

Make sure you set aside a few for next year's seed in case winter's weather causes the original plants to rot out. This little note comes from personal experience. I am now fresh out of Le Onion thanks to a particularly cold, rainy spring that left the tub saturated and half frozen stopping any drainage. Leaving my artsy salad crop roots reduced to rotted mush. Live and learn its a gardener's motto. I will restore Le Onion to a rightful spot in the potted jungle again one day.

G.G.

Share your own Wild Thing story with me - I'll make us both famous!
In the meantime - help me buy a new flowerpot!

Goddess of the Gardens

Paints gleefully, with flowers.
Dancing barefoot in the dirt.
Smiling she toils 'neath the Sun,
Rendering with Mother Earth.
Tinting each nook and cranny...
Her palette ablaze with hues -
Each color kis't by the Moon.
Here she reigns her slice of earth,
The Empress of leaf and bloom.
Growing up a merry tune,
Faerie mirth plays the chorus...
Echoes 'cross petal and leaf,
As dusk's light settles upon -
The Kingdom of Her Gardens

***

Justly Accused

I know, it is time to confess my guilt. I have danced away from the label for many years, always shying away from the truth. Yet, as co-dependencies go, at least mine is not unhealthy nor unsightly.

Can I help it if I suffer from pot addiction? If there was enough ground, I would have no use for the pots! Alright, I might need just a few for the porch ... and the deck ... and the patio. I practice restraint whenever it is possible. I can stop whenever I feel like it.

Is it really my fault that ornamental plants just seem to be attracted to me? If they didn't have so much to say, I could easily turn a deaf ear to each and every one of them. Surely I could ignore them all without all the incessant communication.

I beg to differ with this term of addiction! If they weren't natural I might understand, but they just sprout out of the soil and suddenly it is true love. I swear they follow me home on their own accord and force me to take care of them. At least no one can accuse me aggravated foliage abuse or petal abandonment!

Surely, with all the new beautiful introductions each spring one can fully comprehend the need to collect every one that comes in just the right color. Tell them to stop creating new ones and I will be able to quit cold turkey (just as soon as I make sure I have all the perfect colored ones that exist somewhere on Earth).

The Guilty Gardener