Plant That Wouldn't Leave

I had a lovely tree peony for a couple of years, but it seemed much too big for my small garden.  I dug it up and gave it away to a friend. 

Most tree peonies are grafted onto herbaceous peony root stalk and when I dug the peony, I must have left some of the original root stalk in the ground.  Now, three years and one gift later, I have a really exquisite peony.  It is a single peony coming from a piece of the original root stock.   I think I like it better than the multi-petalled tree peony. Sometimes nature just makes good decisions for you!

May = Marigolds & Bees

May is the time that old friends and new experiences occur in the garden.  This morning the Marsh Marigold is looking its best.  We've had this plant for over 10 years -- since the time when we had a tiny, wee little pond and every year is has given us a wonderful display.  The flowers last about a week and then it's downhill from there.  By July, I don't even point it out to visitors because it looks so scraggly.  But in May it is wonderful.  Sort of like us, eh?

This year while looking for signs of life around the Hakonachloa grass, we discovered that a set of solitary bees has found the area enticing.  Pictured is one of the holes they made.  There are about 8 in all.  I know they are bees not ants because I've watched them go in and out.  Tried to get that in a picture but they wouldn't cooperate.

I'm a bee person so this discovery is exciting for me!

Tired of Waiting

My bunches of daffodils from the Cancer Society got tired of waiting for Spring.  Actually, I like daffodils this way and let them dry on purpose. When they are crispy dry, I take the stems off and put them into a glass container to keep them  Then I have Shades of Spring all year long.

Dried daffodils retain much of the original colour and shape but also have a beauty all their own.  Perhaps it's the brittleness or perhaps it's the recognition of the true essence of the flower.

Dried flowers give a permanence to the flower that it never had when it was fresh.  Freshness is fleeting.  Sort of like life, eh?  We aren't seventeen for ever, but with the passing of youth comes substance and a lasting quality.

So, I dry daffodils to enjoy their beauty longer and to remind me that all stages of life are lovely.

You Have All Winter

Plan for insects. This winter, as you dream and plan for next year's garden, think of plants that insects will like. Introduce into your garden as many native plants as you can to ensure that the insects are fed.

Don't want insects in your garden? Think on this: most baby birds depend on insects for their growth. If parent birds can't find enough insects, the babies are weaker and may not survive. And we depend on insects to clean up the rubbish of the world and to pollinate our plants for next year's growth and this year's food.

And, of course, bees (my favourite insects) pollinate plants to make sure fruit and seeds are produced.

Expect insect bites on your plants. When you see bites, you know the system is working. The more bites, the healthier your garden is. Encourage insects to your garden by providing habitat for them. Here's one of my favourite pages for insect habitat:

Christmas Cactus

Christmas is almost here when the buds swell on the Christmas Cactus.

My Christmas Cactus is an older variety with stem segments (phylloclades) that undulate gracefully instead of ending in little points along the edge and is probably Schlumbergera x buckleyi.

The Christmas Cactus I have now is not the original one I inherited in 1976 but a cutting of a cutting of a cutting. Once every two or three years, I take cuttings, choose the best of the rooted cuttings, and discard the mother plant in favour of a smaller one with a less sprawling spread, a new plant that fits in the spot allocated to it.    

My cactus actually blooms at Christmas unlike many store-bought cacti that should more accurately be called Holiday Cacti since their natural bloom time may be Thanksgiving or Easter, instead of Christmas.  Those cacti with the flowering blooms we purchase in Fall/Winter have been forced to bloom.  Their natural bloom time won’t be obvious until they have grown for a full cycle.

I keep my Christmas Cactus in our back sunroom, lit by natural light only, cooled in summer by open windows and barely warmed in winter by one hot air outlet travelling under the room across an unheated, dirt-floored crawl space, losing much of its heat before it enters the room. The room gets quite cold but never freezes.

My plant sits in eastern light that is also perfect for African violets and is exposed only to available light and the temperature changes that follow the season by diminishing as Christmas nears. Bud set, beginning somewhere around the first of November, is spurred into action by those seasonal changes, a lessening of available light or a reduction of temperature or maybe both.

Christmas cacti are very sensitive once they begin to set bloom and should never, never be moved once bloom set has begun. Changes to light or temperature will cause new buds to drop.

At one time I used to transfer the current Christmas Cactus to a shady spot outside – a holiday for the plant.  One year I almost lost it when I forgot about it and left it outside until after the first bad frost.  When the plant was brought in, all the stem segments shriveled and died but the main plant was OK and eventually put out new stems.  There was no bloom that year but the plant lived to bloom again the next year.  Since that almost death of the plant my memory has not improved so the plant resides inside all year.

After so many years of predictable show, my Christmas Cactus is an old friend giving me the feeling that all’s right with the world when the Christmas Cactus blooms.

Typha in Winter

Winter is here and it is beautiful. I don't cut plants down in the fall and am able to enjoy their forms when the snow comes.
This dwarf bulrush grows at the side of our pond. You hardly notice it in the summer but it is a wonderful sight after the snow falls. It will stay that way most of the winter, feeding small birds and enhancing the garden.
Until they soften and fall, the remnants of our plants feed the birds. Then they feed the soil. It's the way it was meant to be.
A friend once commented: "Your garden isn't your livingroom. Leave it messy." She didn't see my livingroom!

Graceful Even in the Fall

Hakonechloa grass is one of my favourites. It seems to flow over whatever surrounds it. Although it isn't a native Ontario grass, I grow it because I love it so. This clump is about 6 years old and really does need dividing and replanting. I noticed last spring that the centre is becoming bare. So now I'm looking for another place that would be improved with the flow of a yellow-green grass all summer and the jolt of autumn colour next fall.