February GBBD: Blooms and Birds

Just popping in to wish everyone a Happy Bloom Day!  

The paperwhite and hyacinth bulbs lie forgotten in the garage somewhere, but thanks to my daughter, I have a lovely bouquet of Valentine roses to bring some color to these gray February days.

While we have had a fairly mild winter, it certainly hasn't been as mild as last year when I had crocuses blooming in February.  We've been fortunate that the snowstorms have missed us each time, though the weatherman is warning us that we may finally get hit with some measurable snow next week. I'm not going to complain at all, but the lack of snow has had one unfortunate side effect--fewer birds at the feeders this winter.  This weekend is the Great Backyard Bird Count, and unless I bundle up and trek beyond my front yard, I'm not going to have much to report other than the usual flock of sparrows.

We have had one new visitor to the suet feeders near the living room window, however.  This tufted titmouse and its mate--I presume--have been frequent dinner guests.  Although several people have told me that they are common in our area, this is the first time I've seen one in our yard.

He's really quite a handsome little fellow--if only my windows were cleaner!--with his fashionable spiked hairdo and white beard. 

He's also quite inquisitive and much braver than other visitors, especially when we see what's behind those gray ears at the bottom of this photo . . .

. . . Apparently, Mr. Titmouse is smart enough to know that double-paned glass is an impenetrable shield protecting him from the likes of Widget and Tarzan.

Or from the whole clan, for that matter! (Front to Back) Toby, Tarzan, Widget, and Sasha have enjoyed many hours of Bird Television this winter thanks to Mr. T and his friends.  The only one missing from the photo is Sophie, who normally watches the same channel,  except that on this day all the best seats were taken!

I still have a few weeks of teaching to go; I'm enjoying it, but I'm also looking forward to getting back into the garden--spring, don't be late!  In the meantime, why not pop over to Carol's to see what's blooming all over the world on this Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day.

Bloom Day and a Blogging Break

January is always challenging for the monthly Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day. It's too cold for any blooms outdoors, and my garden is a mushy, frozen mess at the moment without even the benefit of some fluffy white snow for an appealing winter scene.  Indoors, the Christmas poinsettia is still looking good, but the only other indoor bloom is this kalanchoe.

I bought this plant before Christmas at a plant sale held by horticulture students at our local community college.  I'm not sure if they grew the plant themselves in their greenhouse or imported it from a wholesaler, but it was quite a bargain for its size.  There is only one problem . . .

Notice the tag in the pot?  Obviously, this is not pink!  But I'm not going to complain--at this time of year any blooms are welcome, no matter their color.  Also indoors, the Christmas cactus is dropping the last of its blooms, and the leaves of two amaryllis are growing several inches a day, but alas without a bloom on either.

Somewhere I'm sure there must be something blooming--if you're in need of a garden fix like me, I'm sure you'll find something colorful among the other Bloom Day posts found at May Dreams Gardens.


This will be my last post for awhile, and I wanted to let everyone know so that you don't think I suddenly fell off the face of the blogosphere.  Last fall I agreed to take over for an English teacher while she was on maternity leave this winter.  I had to think over this proposal for awhile--did I really want to get back into the everyday work routine? Although I substitute teach at my old high school occasionally, that's a little different, and sometimes I feel like little more than a glorified babysitter.  Instead of leaving empty-handed right after the 3:00 bell, this position would mean I would be staying in the classroom for as long as it takes to get things organized for the next day and taking home a bag filled with papers to grade and lessons to prepare during the evening.

But the timing was right--I can't do much in the garden in late winter anyway. And she really wanted ME, not someone new, which, of course, fed my ego; the thought of actually teaching and getting to interact meaningfully with students again was also appealing.  The added paychecks (more plants?? more trips??) didn't hurt either.

And so I agreed to go back to work for eight weeks.  But babies don't always follow schedules, and sure enough, little baby Gabe decided to make an early appearance.  Instead of having three more weeks to prepare for my teaching stint and get the last of the Christmas decorations put away (!), I started teaching this past Friday.    I know many of you work full-time and keep up with blogging, but I have been out of the loop so long that it's going to take me awhile to adjust.  I have a feeling that by the time I have all my work done at the end of each evening, I'm going to be ready to collapse into bed, rather than relaxing by reading some blogs. 

I hope to be able to pop in and visit now and then, and I'm going to try to post a short Bloom Day post in February and March.  But I will definitely be back to blogging in April, when I hope I can share scenes like this:

and this....

See you in the Spring!

Reflections on 2012

Happy New Year, everyone!  For the past week, the media has been highlighting the top stories of the past year, as they always do.  I usually like to recap the past year in my garden as well, but this year seemed rather uneventful for me, other than the excitement of attending Spring Fling in Asheville in May.  Instead, I thought I would start off the new year by looking back at some of the lessons I learned in the garden in 2012.

'Victoria' blues and whites taking over the front of the arbor bed.

There is always something new to be learned about gardening, and I certainly learned some practical lessons this past year such as how attractive foliage can be in containers, that amsonia has very long, stubborn roots,  or that cats and houseplants don't always go together.  One of the hardest lessons to learn for this stubborn tightwad thrifty gardener was that just because a volunteer plant is providing free blooms doesn't mean you have to keep it.  Due to last year's mild winter, I had many more volunteers than usual.  I dug up many nicotania seedlings to give away in the spring and eventually became ruthless enough to pull the tall plants, even though they were blooming beautifully, because they were crowding out many of the perennials.  But I couldn't bring myself to do the same for the 'Victoria Blue' and 'White' salvias, even though they eventually encroached upon new and tender perennials as well.  If this year's winter is as cold as predicted, I may not have the same problem this coming season.  But if I do, I vow to be more selective and weed out unwanted volunteers.

Aside from these practical lessons, however, most of the lessons I learned this year were more significant and changed some of my perspectives on gardening and even life:

A new double tulip, 'Montreux,' was one of the delights of spring.

Mother Nature has the final say.  In what has to be one of the weirdest weather years in my memory, 2012 began with a mild winter that turned into an unusually early and warm spring.  Indoor projects were quickly cast aside as I eagerly jumped into garden work in March.   As I marvelled at blooms appearing much earlier than usual, I began to worry what the summer might bring, but that thought was pushed to the back of my mind as I delighted in masses of brightly-colored tulips and daffodils. A joyous spring turned into summer, and the worry surfaced again when the rain clouds disappeared.  For two months, not an appreciable drop of rain fell, and I despaired along with gardeners all over the country that my garden would not survive, as I trekked out each day in the heat to drag water hoses around the garden.

Despite the drought, bees and butterflies were abundant.  Natives and tough annuals like zinnias were unfazed by the weather.

But then in August and into the fall, the rain returned.  Words like "severe drought" and "extreme drought" were no longer headlines in the local news.  The drought had taken its toll, to be sure--I did lose a few plants, and many local farmers reported one of the most dismal harvests they had ever had.  But my garden perked up with the welcome moisture, and surprisingly, the harvest on our farm produced normal yields. We were much luckier than many.  I learned that I shouldn't complain so much because there is always someone much worse off than I--at least we don't have hurricanes in Illinois.  And I was reminded that Nature has the ultimate power in my garden and cannot be controlled.  Like life, I must work with what I am given and accept the ups and downs as inevitable and keep moving forward.

The Rose Garden at the Biltmore Estate--my garden looks nothing like this!

Every garden is special, no matter its size or style.  Readers of this blog may think I have a huge garden, judging by the number of different blooms I show from month to month.  But nothing could be further from the truth--in reality, my garden is quite small by most standards and is actually  several flowerbeds without any cohesive design whatsoever.  Each bed started out with a planned design and a color scheme, but in a short amount of time each grew into a crowded riot of clashing colors, fueled by my ever-growing plant addiction and habit of filling in every available inch of bare soil.  My little garden makes me happy, but at the same time I'm never quite satisfied.  If a visitor stops by and wants to "tour" the garden, I look even more critically at it and can't help wondering what they must be thinking--"Sheesh, you call this a garden??"

One of the more unusual garden features in Asheville--Christopher Mello's "Dump Truck Park."

But my trip to Asheville with tours of so many different gardens opened my eyes and my mind to a different philosophy.  My garden may not be as big or tidy as I would like it, and it's certainly not magazine centerfold-worthy, but it brings me great joy, and that is all that matters.

There is never enough time.  I think this has been my life's mantra; rushing to meet one deadline after another, I sometimes think my life has been one big blur.  I thought that would all change with retirement, and to a certain extent, it has, but then I keep adding new activities and new interests at the same time my body has slowed down, saying, "whoa, take it easy!"  I realize there will never be enough time to get all the weeding done or all the projects I have planned in the garden.  There will never be enough time to get my house completely de-cluttered, organized, and spotless (well, maybe if I hire a professional organizer and a cleaning lady!).  There will never be enough time to read every book I have on my constantly growing "to-read" list.

If you don't take the time to look closely, you might miss this busy little bee in the poppy.

There is a quote I've always loved: "Life is short; eat dessert first!"  As much as I like this sentiment, however, I have trouble following it.  Perhaps it's the work ethic instilled in me by my parents and their German ancestry, but I've always believed you must finish your chores before you play.   However, I've come to realize that putting work first sometimes means you miss some special moments. If you are focusing on finding weeds, you might miss the first blooms of the larkspur you thought would never grow in your garden.  If you are always looking downward, you might not see the Monarch floating through the air above you.   There will never be enough time to get everything done, so enjoy the time you have--take those precious moments to enjoy the beauty around you, whether it's the flight of a butterfly, the sudden whirr of a hummingbird, or the laughter of children.  This is a lesson I haven't quite mastered yet, but it's going to be my only New Year's resolution this year--I'm going to practice enjoying the moment.

Garden Lessons Learned is a meme sponsored each season by Beth at Plant Postings.  I had planned to finish this post in time for her Winter Solstice collection, but I missed the deadline.   I decided to finish this post anyway; after all, what better way to start the new year than to remember some valuable lessons from 2012 and strive to do better in 2013.

Wishing you all a Happy and Healthy New Year and time to enjoy your garden!

A Very, Very Late Bloom Day and Season's Greetings

Since I started blogging over four years ago, I haven't missed a Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day yet.  Thanks to our creative and energetic hostess Carol, these mid-month posts have provided me with an invaluable record of what is blooming in my garden--or not--from year to year.  But this Christmas season has been a busy one, and time spent on the computer has been limited to cyber shopping, not reading or writing blog posts.  Endless gray days have kept me from even thinking about the garden, much less photographing it.  And then last Friday, I was left without words . . .

And so I am very, very late in sharing what is blooming in my garden this December.  But the only bloom worth noting is indoors--a new Christmas cactus blooming right on schedule.

Outdoors, the garden has been dormant for at least a month.  Despite the mild weather of early December, nothing is blooming, with dried seedheads the only reminders of the garden's former glory.

The endless scene of shades of brown was broken on Thursday when a winter storm blustered through and covered one of the few spots of green--the hellebores--with white instead.  Although parts of the Midwest were blanketed with snow, we received only a dusting, and chances are that won't last for Christmas.

But the best "blooms" of all were in my kitchen yesterday as the grandkids came over for our traditional cookie-making time.  For a few hours the house was filled with laughter and sugar-fueled squeals of delight.  Although the finished products were heavy on frosting and might not be quite edible, the time spent was precious and priceless.  I feel very blessed this Christmas. 

Wishing you all a Joyous Christmas

and Peace in the New Year!

Wildflower Wednesday: A Native Wonderland

Have you ever passed by someone's garden and just invited yourself in for a closer look?  Or better yet, have you dropped in to visit a private garden, when no one was even home?  In a way, that is what two friends and I did on our way home from the Asheville Fling this past May.

The sign at the end of the driveway did say "Open," so we accepted the invitation and walked right in.

I suspect we were not the first visitors to be intrigued by this garden, for the front garden spills from the front of the house all the way to the street, enticing visitors to take a closer look.  The glimpse of the blue bottle tree hints at other treasures within, just waiting to be found.

And indeed there are treasures, sometimes popping up unexpectedly as you round a path.  Reminders that this is a garden where wildlife are welcome.

 A garden where pollinators are encouraged to visit and feast on the variety of plants chosen just for them.

Though I didn't take a single photo of a real bee or butterfly visiting the garden, there was so much to see that I often forgot about the camera hanging around my neck.  It was easy to get distracted--as we moved into the back garden, in fact, friend Lisa, a birding enthusiast, heard a familiar bird song and went in search of the singer.

This is a garden where native plants and wildflowers abound, like this Echinacea tennesseensis with its distinctive downward-curling rays.  It may be on the Federal Endangered Species list, but it is thriving in its native habitat here.

Another native in bloom on this late spring day was the Phlox pilosa,

 known to many of us in Blogland as PPPP.

Agastache (variety unknown, but maybe 'Golden Jubilee'?), also called Hyssop or Hummingbird Mint, is a favorite of hummingbirds and butterflies alike.

The native Hypericum adds cheery yellow blooms in this mostly shady garden.

While the emphasis is on natives here, other non-natives are welcome as well, such as this creamy daylily.

Or the Verbena bonariensis, which although not a native, is loved by the butterflies.

My friends and I didn't take advantage of this inviting bench to rest for a bit, but continued our exploration on foot.  We wondered aloud what must the neighbors think of these three strangers roaming about the garden unchaperoned?  Perhaps they are used to people stopping by to admire this native sanctuary, because no police ever arrived to arrest us for trespassing:)

By now, many of you no doubt recognize this garden as belonging to none other than the hostess of the monthly Wildflower Wednesday, Gail of Clay and Limestone. And to set the record straight, we didn't exactly drop in uninvited.  When we made our plans to attend the Asheville Fling, friends Lisa, Beckie, and I also made plans to leave a day early and visit Fairegarden, but left our return trip home more spontaneous.  I was lucky enough to visit Gail's garden a few years before during another trip through Tennessee and raved about it, so Lisa and Beckie longed to see it, too.  However, when we talked to Gail in Asheville, she said she was going to stay an extra day, but we were welcome to stop by her home anyway and tour the garden by ourselves.  I'm not sure she really expected us to take her up on this offer, but we couldn't resist!

Thank you, Gail, for graciously allowing us to visit your garden, and thank you for hosting Wildflower Wednesday each month.  I've learned so much about wildflowers and native plants through this series, including the Hypericum above, featured in her post this month.  My photos don't do her garden justice, but you can see much more of her garden as well as other wildflower entries posted this month here. To paraphrase an old saying, when it comes to creating a pollinator-friendly garden, Gail doesn't just "talk the talk, she walks the walk"!

Frosty November Bloom Day

I know I'm a day late for the monthly meeting of Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day, but it doesn't matter too much because there's nothing blooming here in November.

That is, unless you count a couple of brave 'October Skies' aster blooms reaching for the November sun.

Or a late goldenrod blooming behind the shelter of the fuel tanks.

Or the last garden mum still hanging on to a few blooms.

The purple kale still standing in the vegetable garden explains the lack of blooms--early mornings for the past week or two have been quite cold with everything covered in frost.  The kale will rebound, as will the pansies in containers, but the frost has brought an end to everything else in the garden for the year.

Instead of rose blooms, now there are rose hips.

The amsonia has already passed its fall golden stage and is beginning to put on its winter whites.

Grasses, too, have turned white, but still glow in the early morning sun.

Most of the leaves have fallen from the trees, but some colorful foliage remains,

 like the leaves of Itea 'Little Henry.'

The most colorful foliage of all, though, is this spirea (name forgotten at the moment).  I bought two spirea a few years ago primarily for their spring blooms; the fall color has been a happy surprise.

Little else remains, however; even the beautyberry has lost its leaves, with only some berries left to tempt the birds.  It's clear the time has come for the garden's long winter's sleep.

To see what else may be blooming (or not), be sure to visit our hostess Carol at May Dreams Gardens.

Why I Don't Have Houseplants

Frances' fairy garden was a great inspiration!

Gardening trends come and go, and I don't usually pay much attention to them--my garden is never going to be featured in a magazine, that's for sure.  But one popular trend in gardening that has piqued my interest lately is fairy gardening, especially after seeing so many delightful miniature landscapes in various gardens this past year.  I had finally decided on the perfect place to create a home for the pixies in my own garden, so when my friend Beckie asked me to go with her to a workshop on fairy gardening at a local garden center this fall, I eagerly agreed. 

The workshop was mainly focused on creating an indoor fairy garden, but the best part was the 30% off coupon all of the particpants received. I bought a few accessories that struck my fancy, but passed on the bottle of fairy dust--a tiny plastic jar of glitter selling for $3.00 (!).  I was going to put them away until spring, but that coupon was still burning a hole in my pocket, and I thought what the heck--an indoor fairy garden would be something fun for the winter, so I bought an inexpensive shallow pot and several small indoor plants.

My granddaughter came over one day, and together we planted the fairy garden; I let her choose where to place the curved path and bench, and she even managed to squeeze in the curved bridge.  The end result wasn't anything spectacular, especially since it had neither a fairy or a house, but we had fun nonetheless.

After the storm

When the weather began to turn cooler, I brought the little garden inside, finding a temporary home for it near the patio doors.  Not a good idea as it turned out: one morning I noticed that some kind of freak storm had hit the fairy garden and uprooted several plants.  I pushed them gently back into the soil, hoping they would recover, and began to wonder about this strange meteorological occurrence. Another result of climate change, perhaps?

Only a little polka-dot plant remains.

Oddly enough, the same storm hit several more times over the course of the next week until one morning I found the garden upturned, with most of the soil on my carpet, the bridge upended, and most of the plants past rescuing.

I had begun to form a plausible hypothesis, and sure enough, my suspicions were confirmed one day when I noticed a streak of gray out of the corner of my eye.

 Don't let this innocent face fool you.  The evidence was overwhelming: pawprints were taken, and sure enough, traces of potting soil were found. The mess was cleaned up, but I guess the fairies will have to wait until spring for a new home that will be safe from Storm Widget!

And that, my friends, is why I don't have houseplants.