August GBBD: Summer Doldrums

It's mid-August, and I've lost my garden motivation.    It's hot and humid, and frankly, I have no desire to work up a sweat,tending to all weeding and pruning I should be doing right now.  About the only thing I have any energy to do is to water the pots and new perennials, and that's only because I know they will die if I don't keep it up.  The garden marches on, though, regardless of my neglect with a few standout plants for this Bloom Day and lots of other smaller blooms to enjoy.

The kaleidoscope of colors provided by the daylilies for July Bloom Day are pretty well gone, and the swaths of coneflowers that bloomed a month ago are looking pretty worn and sad.   But there are a few plants that have taken their place and really stand out in the garden right now.  One is the Susans, especially the brown-eyed ones, Rudbeckia triloba, which started out as a single volunteer and have now practically taken over the lily bed.

I keep telling myself I should cut these back so the few other blooming plants in the area have a chance to be seen.  But it's hard to be ruthless with such a cheerful and enthusiastic bloomer.  Besides, that sounds like work:)

A few volunteer cleome don't seem to mind and fight their way through the maze of yellow.

Besides the Susans, you can't miss this tall lily.  While most of the lilies are finished, there are a few late bloomers, including this 'Challenger' lily.  I received a division from a friend two years ago, but this is the first time it has ever bloomed.  I knew nothing about this lily at the time, so what a surprise when it rose up to a full six feet in height!

I've since done a little research on this lily and discovered it's an heirloom lily, introduced the year I was born.  Standing alone as it does, it's certainly been a conversation piece for anyone who's visited, but it does look a little lonely by itself.  I have my eye on a source for 'Autumn Minaret,' another tall, late lily to keep it company next year.

The other plant that really stands out in the garden right now is the 'Limelight' hydrangea, which can be seen the moment you drive up our lane. More pruning is needed here, too, but at least that can wait till spring when the enthusiastic gardener returns.

I love these huge blooms, and I've found an easy way to dry them at the end of the season to enjoy them all winter long.

The best time to view the garden on these hot days is very early in the morning or late evening--if you've put on mosquito repellent, that is.  I'm looking forward to cooler days ahead; this corner of the Arbor Bed is already starting to look a bit like fall. 

Surprise lilies still blooming on a hazy morning.

Oftentimes the smaller blooms get overlooked for my Bloom Day posts, so I wanted to focus on a few of them this month.  These zinnias aren't small, but they sure are few in number compared to most years.  I don't know what happened to all the seeds I planted, unless my garden helpers earlier in the summer accidentally smothered them with mulch.  The same thing with my cosmos--I see only one plant that might bloom yet.

Thankfully, the 'Zowie Yellow Flame' zinnias were planted in the front, and I made sure to mark them carefully.  Mixed with 'Becky' daisies here, they usually attract lots of late summer butterflies including Monarchs.

I've become really attracted to low-growing sedums and am planting more in the front of the sidewalk garden.  This is a new one, 'Dazzleberry,' which according to the local nursery owner fared better than others during the torrential rains of June.

Nearby is my first successful attempt at growing dahlias, 'Mystic Illusion.'

Yellow begonias brighten a spot on the front porch.

I had so much success with starting Rudbeckia hirta seedlings this year that they're planted everywhere. My favorite 'Prairie Sun' seeds were all sold out, but these 'Irish Eyes' look almost identical to me.

Gomphrena carries on in spite of the heat.

This is the time of year when some of the petunias in my planters start to look pretty sad, so it's a good time to evaluate what varieties stand up in the heat of summer.  'Royal Velvet'  and 'Bordeaux' Supertunias' are two that look as good today as they did in June.

It's easy to overlook the small blooms of this 'Kent Beauty' oregano in one of my herb pots, but I love them.  I had long admired these blooms on Joy's blog, so I'm so happy I found some to plant this year.

The hostas known as Plantain Lilies are pretty plain most of the year, but boy, do they make up for their ordinary green leaves when they bloom!  One or two plants in my garden have been divided and divided in recent years, so I will have a mass of these lovely white blooms for the next few weeks.

While I have been too lazy unmotivated to work in the garden much the last few weeks, I have taken the time to just sit and enjoy it, especially to enjoy all the little visitors to the garden. This cabbage white butterfly (I think) loves the 'Victoria Blue' salvia.

The hummingbirds are loving all the late blooms, too, though so far I've only managed to photograph them while at the feeder.  There's nothing better than watching hummingbird dances in late summer!

The most numerous visitors to my garden--besides the bees, of course-- are the goldfiinches.  This one looks like a juvenile, I think.  I just want to reach out and pet him:)

To some, the coneflowers might look tattered and ugly, but the goldfinches like them this way.  It's been a nonstop finch party at my house the last two weeks, and I'm not about to end it!  The coneflowers will stay as they are so I can enjoy watching my little feathered friends.

Perhaps instead of saying how unmotivated I've been about gardening lately, I should say I am taking a much-needed garden staycation, just enjoying the results of my work.  There will be time enough during the cooler days of autumn to get back to work.

Thanks to our faithful hostess Carol for hosting another Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day.  Check out May Dreams Gardens to see what else is blooming during these dog days of August.

GGBD: What Do You Call a Plethora of Coneflowers?

I arrived home from Portland after midnight Monday night and am still trying to get back into my usual routine.  Three days of non-stop garden viewing--what an incredible experience!  As soon as I can get all my photos organized, I'll share some of these amazing gardens with you.  What I will tell you now, though, is that Portland has to be a gardener's paradise--I'm convinced that they can grow almost anything, and that plants grow bigger and better in the Pacific Northwest than anywhere else. 

But yesterday was Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day, and I didn't want to miss out, even though my camera needs re-charging as much as I do, and I haven't taken many photos at home.  There are lilies blooming galore, including the first 'Stargazer,' which was a lovely welcome home yesterday morning.  Phlox, hydrangeas, cosmos, a few zinnias,  and one lone little purple poppy are creating a riot of color in the garden on this July Bloom Day.  But what everyone notices first in my garden are the purple coneflowers.  This is one plant that, if I may say so, grows as well in the Midwest, if not better, as in Portland.

When I say I have an abundance of coneflowers, I am not exaggerating.  I leave the plants standing in the fall for the birds, and the cold, harsh winter this past year must have been ideal for them.  I pulled a few and gave away others, but I didn't have the heart to really thin them. 

And they're everywhere! This started me thinking--if we have names for groups of animals, like a gaggle of geese or a murder of crows, why not a name for a large group of plants as well?  I might call this a sea of coneflowers in the sidewalk bed.

Or a profusion of coneflowers in the roadside bed.

How about a medley of coneflowers in the Arbor Bed?

I don't have many cultivars, other than this 'Big Sky Sunset' and the 'White Swan' above.  Almost all the coneflowers are the common Echinacea Purpurea, or else we might call them a myriad of coneflowers.

I like alliteration, so perhaps a good term would be a conglomeration of coneflowers.

Or a convocation of coneflowers?

From a different perspective, a pulpit of coneflowers sounds appropriate.

Or another point of view--perhaps a stage of coneflowers?

More alliteration--possibly, a collation of coneflowers.

Or maybe a congregation of coneflowers?

A caboodle of coneflowers sounds playful to me.

As you can see, when the coneflowers bloomed, the butterflies seemed to magically appear as well.  I followed the first Monarch with my phone as it fluttered from one bloom to another.  Maybe the best choice for a term in this case would be a delight of coneflowers.

For the bees, though, the garden has become a buffet of coneflowers.

They, too, are happy to see these flowers and might call them a delirium of coneflowers.

Perhaps a new word altogether needs to be coined to describe such a bounty of blooms, such as a conflabulation of coneflowers.  Whatever you want to call this abundance, you can see why coneflowers are not only my favorite flower, but a favorite of so many beautiful creatures in my garden as well.

Thanks to Carol of May Dreams Gardens for hosting this each month and giving us a showcase for sharing blooms from all over the world.

Garden Lessons Learned in 2013

Happy New Year, everyone!  I hope that you enjoyed the holidays and were able to spend time with friends and family.  I noticed a considerable drop in blogging the past month, myself included.  Besides the usual rush of Christmas activities, I was hit with a respiratory virus right before Christmas that kept me down for more than a week.  Thanks to some antibiotics, I'm finally on the mend. Now that I've finally got a little more energy and with the holiday rush over, I plan to catch up on reading blogs as well as posting a little more often.

I had planned to join Plant Postings' seasonal meme on lessons learned in the garden this past autumn.  Since I didn't make the December 20 deadline, I'm going to look back at the year overall and focus on one special aspect of the garden that has become more and more appealing to me.

I've learned that a garden isn't just for me--it supports a host of wildlife who enjoy it--and need it--just as much as I do. The creatures who inhabit or visit the garden have taught me as many valuable lessons as planting and weeding have.

 Lesson #1:  Even the seemingly ordinary can contain small miracles.  I was pruning the Knockout roses this spring when I noticed this strange growth on one of the branches.  A quick photo was taken and compared to internet images; sure enough, this is a mantis egg case, the first I'd ever seen.  Unfortunately, I didn't notice an abundance of praying mantises this year, compared to past years, but I'm sure they were around, had I continued to pay more careful attention.

Another small miracle that I did pay more careful attention to was this dove nesting in the old lilac. My husband first noticed her while mowing, and pointed out her nest to me as well as to the grandkids when they visited. 

She seemed unperturbed by our attention, and since her nest was just a foot above eye level,  it was easy to see. We watched the amazing miracle over the next few weeks as she cared for the babies who emerged until they became fledglings who eventually left the nest.

Lesson #2: Sometimes we're too busy focusing on the task at hand to notice what is right in front of our faces.  I know I'm not the only one who has photographed a flower only to discover when I downloaded my pictures a little winged creature I hadn't even noticed at the time. 



I enjoy watching the bees busily flying about in my garden, but they're not the easiest creatures to photograph, especially honeybees and the smaller bees. I always think it's serendipity when one pauses at just the right second as the camera shutter clicks.

Lesson #3: Just as with the garden, there is always something new to be learned when it comes to wildlife.  While I know we have had foxes around our farm before, this summer was the first time one ventured close enough for me to see it on a regular basis.  For a month or two, she/he (and oftentimes with its mate) would stroll across the front yard every evening before disappearing into the cornfield.

Despite the fox's often unsavory reputation in fables and fairy tales, I think they're beautiful creatures.  I spent many a summer evening watching her as she watched me, each keeping our distance.

Lesson #4: Even the smallest of creatures often knows more about Nature than I do.  The woolly worm is a weather prognosticator for many of us.  When I saw several of these this fall, I decided I'd better be prepared for a bad winter--the black head and tail, according to folklore, means a cold beginning and end to winter with a lot of snow in between.  So far, his forecast has been accurate.

Lesson #5: There is a reason I leave most of the garden standing over the winter instead of cutting back everything in the fall. 

Fall is always such a busy time that I never complete all my projects anyway, but I often consider doing some cutting back just to make things look a little tidier through the cold months.  The goldfinches, however, confirmed my decision--dried seedheads have their own usefulness and beauty.

Lesson #6: Patience.  Although this lesson is taught over and over again in the garden, there is nothing quite like trying to photograph a hummingbird to teach you patience.  I've tried for years to get a decent photo of a hummingbird in flight and finally managed to get a couple this year. The pictures weren't that great, but I was happy.

These little birds just fascinate me.  It was a great year for hummingbirds, and I spent many hours watching them dance in the air and holding one-sided conversations with them.  We had a warm fall, and they stayed longer than usual--into late September.  I hope they arrived safely at their winter homes, and I hope they remembered the chatty lady on the porch who will have the feeders ready for them again this summer.

Lesson #7: Optimism.  While it was a great year for hummingbirds, it wasn't such a great year for butterflies.

So few appeared this summer that I was beginning to worry what had happened to them all.  Finally, as summer turned into fall, Painted Ladies, Red Admirals, and Buckeyes came to visit the garden, reminding me to never give up hope.

Fall also brought visits from my favorite butterfly and my favorite photo from 2013.  What is it about the majestic Monarch that fascinates us so?  The scientific research about its life cycle and yearly migration is certainly interesting, but even without that, I am in awe of its beauty.  Nothing makes me stop to really live in the moment as does the appearance of a Monarch.

The wildlife that visited my garden this past season taught me many lessons, but most of all they taught me to appreciate all the little miracles of Nature and to really live in the moment.  I look forward to their return this spring, but in the meantime there are the winter birds to watch . . .

. . . and, of course, the "wildlife" that live here year-round.  

Wishing you all a year filled with new experiences in your garden and the joy and peace that Nature can bring.