Change Is Inevitable: Lessons From the Garden

Change is a part of life; we all know that. But while some changes are good, some are not so pleasant.  I like a change of scenery, a new hairdo, a new paint color on the walls,  But there are other situations where I'm perfectly content with the way things are, and when things begin to go in another direction, I become unsettled or stressed out.

My favorite flowering crabapple in full bloom in early May.

There are so many lessons learned from the garden, and the inevitability of change is one of the major ones.  Every spring I am a little sad to see the early blooms I enjoy so much fade away, and yet I know their end signals the beginning of something new as summer blooms slowly begin to take their place.  I am also consoled by the knowledge that they will return again next spring and delight me once again.

Every year, too, the gardener is faced the realization that she has lost some plants, whether to disease, pests, or the harshness of winter.  I lost several plants due to heaving, I think, because we had so little snow until late in the winter to protect them from the thawing/freezing cycle.  My Knockout roses, which I planted before I called myself a "gardener" and brought with me to this house eleven years ago, look half-dead this year.  Why?  I have no idea--I mean, how can you kill a Knockout rose??

'Brindisi' lily in previous years

The first Asiatic lily I planted, which had grown so huge in recent years and was definitely my favorite, is also a no-show this year.  I found it uprooted in the soil when I was cleaning up the garden back in early April.  I suspect it may have been a victim of a vole, since Sophie caught one nearby (after digging up a huge hole to find it).  I planted the pieces of bulb I could find, and I think a few little shoots are growing again.  But it will be a long time before this plant will grow to be the prolific bloomer it once was, if it ever will.

Not every change in the garden is a negative one, of course.  Plants grow, sometimes surpassing one's expectations.  Hostas in my shade garden have continued to grow by leaps and bounds.  Even after moving some to another area, the main shade garden is a jungle of green once again, to the point of taking over some of my favorite heucheras.  The same is true in the lily bed, where there suddenly is room for little else.

'Empress Wu' blooming for the first time.

The biggest change this spring for me, however, has not been in the garden, but with my mother. During the past year, we noticed she was having trouble with balance, and we were happy when she finally relented and began using a cane.  Other changes were more subtle, and it wasn't until she nearly collapsed one day and had to be taken to the hospital by ambulance, that we realized just how much her health had deteriorated.

Hollyhocks in the "wrong place," but I won't cut them down--they're a fond memory of my childhood, and the original plants came from my parents' home.

I know that many of you have experienced the same issues with aging parents, and I am thankful that my mother has recovered enough to return home.  But still it's difficult to see someone once so vibrant and always busy, whether quilting or putting up produce from her garden for the freezer, unable to do so many of the things she once enjoyed.  It's hard, too, to see my father suddenly becoming the caregiver, trying to mask his worry with a brave face for my mother.  At the same time, the love he has for my mother and the bond that these two have shared for nearly sixty-seven years is a true inspiration for all of us.

I try to ignore the weeds and the plants that badly need dividing or moving here and focus on the bright red poppies.

And so I am adjusting, too.  The garden, which once was my main obsession during the spring and summer, has been relegated to a lower priority.  I am letting go of the need for perfection--not that my garden was ever, ever anywhere near perfection!  The weeds are growing and growing, especially with all the rain, and I try to look past them to focus on the pretty blooms instead.  A few big projects I had planned for this year will just have to wait--after all, there will be another gardening season.

A coleus, a begonia, and a few leftover Profusion daisies thrown together in a pot.

I used to spend a lot of time planning the combinations of plants I wanted to plant in my containers. But when I found myself driving to visit my mother in the morning instead of leisurely mulling over all the plants I had purchased, I started just throwing things together in pots whether they color-coordinated or not.  And you know what--I like some of these just as much as those I planned!

The miniature Japanese garden still needs the dry garden completed and a little more tweaking, but I'll get to that one of these days.

I have always done every chore in the garden myself, except for the occasional help from the grandchildren.  But this year, I'm accepting more help.  Best friend Beckie came one morning to finish planting all the containers.  My granddaughter has been so busy this spring with various activities, but she came over one evening to help get the mini-Japanese garden in order once again.

She also created this simple little fairy garden in another area where nothing would grow in the rocky soil but sedums.  And whenever the rain finally stops, I'm hiring my friend's two granddaughters to help me weed and mulch the garden.

Do fairies like dogs?  I don't know, but I couldn't resist this addition to the fairy garden.  It's Sophie-approved and makes me smile every time I look at it.

As I am slowly learning to accept the changes over which I have no control, I have a new-found appreciation for the constants in my life and those small moments that can bring joy.

A little Zen time in the garden does wonders for the soul.

 Spending some time in the garden, for example, is one of the best therapies there is.  After a particularly stressful few days, I took a morning to work in the shade garden.  Nothing major, just a little weeding and planting.  But those few hours spent digging in the dirt on a beautiful day, listening to the birdsong with my faithful canine companions supervising at my side, did wonders for my spirits.

Ever so tiny, there's the beginning of a bloom here.

The garden reminds me,too, that there is always hope.  The Indian Pinks that I was so excited to find last year were a no-show this year, and I had resigned myself to accepting that they didn't like it here.  But just this past week, I noticed these--yes, they are tiny, but they are back and they will bloom!

And when it comes to constants, there is no plant that is as reliable as my beloved coneflowers.  Every year they return in greater numbers,  to the point that I have begun thinning them out a little.  But I can't bear to pull too many, because they are so faithful, a reminder that while the world around me may change, some things will always remain the same.  To me they represent the roots I have in this prairie soil, the land that my ancestors first tilled over 150 years ago.  They remind me that we are caretakers of this land for our short time here, but the land will be here for future generations. Change is inevitable, but life does go on.


I'm linking this post to Beth at Plant Postings' quarterly review of Lessons Learned in the Garden.

August Muse Day: Where Have They All Gone?

A late and abbreviated Muse Day post today--I've been down all weekend with a nasty stomach bug, and now my daughter has caught it.  I'll be around to visit everyone later as soon as I've disinfected my whole house!

Those "of a certain age" like myself will remember the song "Where Have All the Flowers Gone" sung by Peter, Paul, and Mary,* among others.  The revised version below is what I'm humming in the garden these days . . .

Zinnia Border at the Master Gardeners' Idea Garden in Urbana, Illinois.

Where have all the zinnias gone, long time passing?
Where have all the zinnias gone, sown months ago?

A stand of zinnias in the Children's Garden at the Idea Garden.

Where have all the zinnias gone?
Washed out in June rains, every one

When will she ever learn?  When will she ever learn?

Those of you who have been reading my blog for awhile know how much I like zinnias.  Easily grown by direct sowing outdoors in late spring, zinnias are a great burst of color in late summer when so many other flowers are fading.  I planted some seed this year, as I have for the past two years in the roadside garden, but I haven't seen a single seedling this summer.  My best guess is that the flooding we had in mid-June which left this area under standing water for several days washed away all the seeds. 

I do have Profusion and Zahara zinnias in this garden as well as in containers and other areas.  But it's the tall--3-4' foot--zinnias that I love. So this year when the coneflowers fade, there will be no bright splashes of orange, pink, purple, and yellow to take their place.  I'll have to go to the Idea Garden instead--which is where all these photos were taken--to get my zinnia fix.

And while I'm wondering, here's a second verse...

My best hollyhock last year--growing in the compost pile!

Where have all the hollyhocks gone, long time passing?
Where have all the hollyhocks gone, grown long, long ago?

One puny white hollyhock this year.

Where have all the hollyhocks gone?
Fallen to disease? To pests?
We may never learn, we may never learn.

The hollyhocks that have grown here freely for years and years, all from seeds or plants originating with my husband's grandfather or my grandmother, have been very few in number this year. Granted, I pulled out some volunteers that appeared in places I didn't want them, although I left this pink one at the edge of my vegetable garden.  Most do not look very healthy, which makes me wonder if they have succumbed to hollyhock rust. Whatever the cause, I'm going to collect as many seeds as I can this fall and hope for the best for next year.

*For other fans of Peter, Paul, and Mary, videos of them performing this song can be easily found on YouTube; I didn't have time to download one here today.  I was lucky enough to see them in live performances twice, once in the late 60's at the height of their career and once in the late 90's--they still sounded great then even after 30 years.  Sadly, with the passing of Mary Travers last September, their harmonious folk ballads can now be heard only through recordings.

Garden Muse Day is brought to you the first of each month by the talented Carolyn Gail of Sweet Home and Garden Chicago.

Pretty in Pink

My favorite color is sky blue . . . just in case you were wondering.  Gardeners know, though, that finding plants with a true blue flower is extremely difficult.  One of my first ventures into gardening several years ago was to create a small shade garden at our previous home.  'Endless Summer' hydrangeas were relatively new on the market at that time, and when I saw them in a magazine, I knew they were just what I wanted.  I was going to have flowers of blue amidst the green hostas and ferns!

There's just one problem with this picture--other than the season I first purchased them, my 'Endless Summers' have been . . . pink!  I was amused when I read Racquel's post about her hydrangeas and how happy she was to finally have a pink one.  Obviously, I have the opposite problem.  Our area has very neutral soil, which is good for growing most things, but hydrangeas like acid soil.  My half-hearted efforts this spring to amend the soil to a more acidic ph weren't enough to produce the blue blooms I wanted.  But that's okay, because my favorite color in the garden is actually pink.

I've become a little more daring in recent years, adding some yellows, reds, and (gasp!) even a few oranges to various parts of the garden, but pink is still the predominant color you'll find here.  On the numerous shopping excursions I make each spring, you'll usually find me with a cart full of many pink annuals.  The old standby geraniums--okay, pelargoniums; old habits die hard--are still favorites of mine for several containers.  This 'Americana Light Pink Splash' is my very favorite.

Pink isn't a one-trick pony, either, with various hues available from this delicate pale pink of some double impatiens . . .

. . . to the hot pink shades of these variegated double impatiens.

Hot pink single impatiens paired with a pinkish (or is it red??) caladium.

'Royal Magenta' Supertunias are really more hot pink/fuschia than magenta.

Pink geraniums again paired with hot pink verbena.

There is the dusty pink of a rather tattered-looking Gerbera daisy . . .

. . . or the pale pink almost obscured by the red veins of this caladium.

But even if I didn't buy so many annuals, there would still be pink in my garden.  'Appleblossom' yarrow keeps spreading and spreading each year.

Salvia 'Eveline' is a pretty alternative to the usual purple perennial salvias, even though its blooms don't last as long as its purple cousins.  Too bad . . . I could see myself creating a miniature Prairie Lurie with more of these plants (copyright credits to Frances, the proprietor of Faire Lurie).

 The original flowers here at the Prairie, the hollyhocks, are not doing so well this year for some reason.  Only one--pink, of course!--is blooming so far. Perhaps some overzealous weeding or the attempts to eradicate encroaching poison ivy have done in some of these heirloom plants.

The Butterfly Garden, on the other hand is thriving . . . and looking quite chaotic, to be truthful.  Volunteers have re-seeded themselves all over this newest garden, including this bee balm from Beckie.  She told me it was a red cultivar . . . hmmm, this looks hot pink to me.

And, of course, I couldn't have a post about pink flowers without including the famous Practically Perfect Plox Pilosa, better known throughout Blogland as Gail's PPPP.

Or the almost as famous pink Penstemon X.  Both it and the PPPP are doing well in the Butterfly Garden despite having to duke it out with nigella, cosmos, and other volunteers.

But the piece d' resistance right now, the pinnacle of pink perfection, is this new Asiatic lily.  The old memory cells just aren't what they used to be (just ask Tena), and I could have sworn I purchased a yellow or orange lily last fall.  But I'm so glad I didn't!   You'll be seeing more of this example of pink pulchritude in a later post when the rest of the lilies are in bloom. 

And once it's fully in bloom, this new hot pink salvia 'Wendy's Wish' will also get more exposure. Reminiscent in form to the popular 'Black and Blue' salvia, this new cultivar somersaulted into my cart the moment I spotted it on my last plant shopping trip.

There are other pink blooms in my garden that for one reason or another didn't make it into this post, and of course, there will be later pink blooms, most notably the purple coneflowers, which naturally are not purple at all but rather pink.  But I think you get the idea . . . So, what color predominates in your garden?

Gee, I don't know about you, but all this pink is suddenly making me feel all "girlie" . . . I think I'll go curl my hair and put on some lipstick before I head out into the garden.

GBBD: September's Changing Colors

Tomorrow is that ever-important day of the month for garden bloggers--Garden Bloggers Bloom Day, hosted by the indefatigable Carol of May Dreams Gardens. I'm posting a little early because I had planned to combine my Bloom Day post with my ABC Wednesday post, since they're closely related, until I realized how long this post would be. Instead, I've turned them into two different posts; I hope you'll come back on Wednesday for some "Bugs and Blooms."





I'm sure the question that has been on everyone's mind for the past month is, "Where are Rose's zinnas???"

Well, here they are! The zinnias got a late start; though a few were just beginning to bloom for the August GBBD, only now are the flowers really making a show. However, I don't have nearly as many as last year, so their "statement" is not quite as dramatic. In looking at the roadside garden, I realized that when I transplanted some lilies in the spring, I took up some valuable zinnia territory. Something to think about for next year . . . I must have more zinnias than this!

Besides the zinnias, there aren't a lot of new blooms. Another point to consider over the winter--adding more fall color to the garden. Yes, there are a few asters providing a fresh focal point . . .

. . . and some fresh nectar for the butterflies. It's hard to see the yellow sulphur in this photo, but I've saved a better one for my next post.


And the sedum has begun to put on its fall fashion show. The "Autumn Joy" here in the roadside garden is doing well, much fuller than last year. But the "Autumn Joy" in my main garden is not as healthy. I've lost at least one plant--the leaves dried up and the stems just broke off in my hand. Tina suggested that I might have voles, and indeed the soil underneath the dead plant feels suspiciously light. Hmmm, perhaps I should let Sophie loose in this garden and see what she digs up.

Another plant that has been blooming for the past month is the goldenrod. This is not your polite and refined hybrid---this is the real thing! In other words, Mr. Procrastinator hasn't been able to keep up with all the weeds around the farm this summer:) While some of the goldenrod has already turned to a burnished brown, other plants are still in full bloom. Of all the "weeds" that grow around the outbuildings, this has to be one of my favorites.

I know I included the Black-eyed Susans on my last post, but they have really come into their own the last two weeks. I couldn't tell you from these photos which are which, but I have a couple of Rudbeckia "Goldsturm" and a couple of Rudbeckia hirta.

Can you believe these are the first Black-eyed Susans here at the "Prairie"? I don't know how I lived without them before. One look at these, coupled with the "Bachelor's Buttons," is sure to make you smile:)

Add some orange and red nasturtiums with some orange--and pink--cosmos hiding behind, and I think you have what Gail refers to as "clown pants." I've mentioned before that, unlike other beds, the Butterfly and Friends garden has no planned color scheme, which is pretty obvious. This is a garden of diversity, where everyone is welcome, regardless of color, size, or aggressive tendencies!

While it was intended to attract creatures with wings, four-legged creatures are welcome, too, as long as they don't dig too much:) This, by the way, is Marmalade, the only cat at our home who has never gotten her photo on this blog; she's very shy. In case you're wondering, those ratty-looking leaves belong to some volunteer hollyhocks which need to be removed to make more room for the nasturtiums. This was the first year for planting both cosmos and nasturtiums--they will definitely be planted again next year.

Four-legged creatures aside, there are some other surprises in the Butterfly garden. The pineapple sage, which has grown fuller and fuller, has finally put out one stalk of blooms. I'm hoping for more before the cold sets in.

But my biggest surprise on Sunday was finding all of these blooms not far from the sage! This must be an aster, but I don't even remember planting one. I did find the tag still in the ground after some digging around, but unfortunately the elements obliterated all the writing. Judging by the type of plant tag, it must be one I purchased from the local Prairie Plant Society last spring. Note to self: write down your purchases as well as tagging the plants.

There are other plants still blooming--the nepeta, the coreopsis, the salvia and Stellas putting out a second flush of blooms, just to name a few. And there are the annuals, most of which are still in full bloom, although some of my containers are looking a bit tired and run-down, due to neglect from the gardener. But there is definitely a change in the air, as other perennials are turning brown and giving up for the season. Nowhere is the change more obvious than in the hollyhocks pictured above--most have long since dried up and formed seed pods ready for collecting, while a few stalks show promise of sticking around a little longer.

Some of the lantana is putting more energy into producing berries than blooms.

And other plants have gone into end-of-season mode completely. Aren't these seed pods cool? They're nigella, or "love-in-the-mist," seeds given to me by Cheryl. I'm hoping to collect some seeds from these for next year. Yes, fall is definitely in the air and the garden is winding down, except . . .

. . . my crabapple trees are blooming! The trees have lost almost all their leaves, but they've been full of these blooms since the middle of August. Monica and Beckie can attest to the fact that this is not a staged photo, since they both saw them on their visit in late August. If anyone can explain this strange phenomenon, I'd love to find out why this has happened. If not, I think I might be in line for an award for one of the strangest September blooms ever.

Happy Bloom Day to all! And do take the time to check out all the other wonderful Bloom Day posts from around the world, listed on May Dreams Gardens.