Christening the Garden . . .

Throughout the summer I have mentioned in posts and comments about my new wild/butterfly garden. Now that it's finally full of blooms, I wanted to share it with you and to ask your help in choosing the right name for this new area. But first a little history . . .


Last summer I got the bright idea to turn an ugly area of the back yard into a "wild" garden where extra plants could spread at will. This is the area I often call the "back forty," which isn't forty acres at all, obviously. It's a circular patch of lawn between the house and main yards and the outbuildings of the farm. Forty years ago, the old farmhouse sat in the lower front area of this picture.


Not to mislead you in any way, this garden is a small area, perhaps 10 feet square--except it's not square, of course, more of a hexagonal shape, if anything. It is bordered on the left by the well pit (very convenient for watering), on the right by the old cistern, and on the back side by a concrete pad leading to the ugly, but necessary, fuel tanks needed for the large tractors working the nearby fields. In the summer, hollyhocks grow all around this area and weeds grow behind it:) You can barely see a spot in front of the fuel tanks where newspapers were laid down in an attempt--later aborted--at lasagna gardening. Mr. Procrastinator kindly tilled up part of the area on Mother's Day for me, but he didn't realize I meant a larger area than it first appeared. Later I tilled up more, but the size of the actual garden became smaller than intended as the end of May approached, and the gardener's arms grew weary from the jarring motion of the tiller.

I was determined not to have any kind of formal planting plan, just to plant whatever struck my fancy wherever there was room. Last spring I transplanted coneflower seedlings and yarrow here, as well as some pass-along false sunflower from Beckie, who warned me these yellow pretties might take over. These three plants eventually could take over this whole area, but of course, I am too impatient to wait for that, so other plants were purchased to fill in the bare spots.

Should I call this my Wild Garden?

Beckie and I attended a plant sale in the spring sponsored by the local herb society and the Prairie Plant Society, where I made several purchases which went into the new garden. The Obedient Plant pictured above was beginning to bud on Sunday, but by Wednesday it lay on the ground, its stem broken near the soil line. Perhaps it was a victim of the strong winds on Tuesday, but another possibility might be a certain errant Golden Retriever lunging through the garden on one of her butterfly-chasing expeditions. Another native, the Blazing Star, fizzled out soon after planting.

The two Joe-Pye weeds, however, survived and are finally putting out some buds. But they have been disappointingly short, not the tall plants expected when placed at the back of the garden. Oh well, perhaps they'll take a growth spurt next year . . .

Another native, Rudbeckia "Goldsturm" is also a survivor. The lack of any formal plan can be seen here as this Susan is completely overshadowed by the much taller orange cosmos in front of it.



Could this be the beginnings of a Native Garden?



After the natives were planted, various seeds were sown, each area carefully marked with a neatly lettered plant marker. However, many seeds failed to germinate, and weeds began to encroach upon all bare spots. Several times throughout the summer, in fact, I thought the most appropriate name for this area would be my Weed Garden:)





Eventually I gave up on the no-shows and weeded the area ruthlessly, planting other seedlings in their place. Cleome, purchased as a small four-pack, have done extremely well this year, better than the larger plants purchased last year.


A new perennial pink Salvia, "Eveline, " needed a home and found an empty spot in the garden, as did a new "Black and Blue" salvia.

The quirky pink Gomphrena didn't fit in anywhere else, but found a niche in this anything-goes garden. Later, empty spots in the garden provided temporary homes for a few of the new daylily purchases.

Looking at the garden today, perhaps I should call it a Hodge-Podge Garden?

Seed sowing was not a complete failure, however. Remember the cast iron pot I bought earlier this summer? It was planted with nasturtium seeds and placed atop a stump I found.


Bright orange and yellow blooms were meant to draw the eye upward, away from the weeds:)

The only problem is that I didn't take into account how tall the Bachelor's Buttons would grow. I love these bright blue blooms even though they hide the potted nasturtiums. Oh well, this is a garden where surprises abound.


Many of the seeds started indoors last spring either didn't germinate or didn't survive transplanting. Those sown directly in the garden like this pink cosmos seemed to fare better.

Many of my seeds came from some dear blogging friends, like the orange cosmos pictured above and in the very first photo which came from Tina . They have amazed me with their height and prolific blooms and are the first plant to draw your eye to this area.

These delicate little blooms are Nigella, or "Love in a Mist," sent from the UK by Cheryl. I should have had more blooms from other friends, including some Tennessee Coneflowers from Gail, "Kiss-Me-Over-the-Garden-Gate" from Monica, and Verbena Bonosenarius from Cheryl. But I think the Tennessee Coneflowers didn't like Illinois soil, and I have a suspicion that the other two may have been mistaken for weeds when they first emerged and fell victim to a ruthless hoe one day. Maybe next year I'll do a little better . . .

Besides the gift of seeds from friends, I also have passalong plants from Beckie--the false sunflower and goat's beard. Then my father gave me these small annual phlox he had grown from seed.

Maybe I should call this my Friendship Garden?

Kneeling in the garden the other day while weeding, I caught the distinct fragrance of lemon and sage from the lemon verbena and the pineapple sage plants. A hint of lavender nearby also reached my nose. Besides the smells and the visual and tactile effects, the garden is full of the pleasant sounds of birds in the nearby apple trees and the buzzing of the ever-present bees.

Another choice . . . the Sensory Garden?

One day I heard a steady hum and looked up startled to see a hummingbird no more than 3 feet from my face. Of course, by the time I had the presence of mind to grab my camera he had flown to a nearby tree. You can barely make him out in the photo above, but I keep trying--he's become a frequent visitor to the garden lately.

Although there was no real plan to this garden, I did try to plant many species that would attract the hummingbirds and butterflies. Several Bee balm and butterfly weeds are two of those not pictured here. Attracting the hummingbirds has been a success, but the butterflies have been conspicuously absent for the most part. Until yesterday, that is . . . While watering the nasturtiums, a beautiful Monarch butterfly swooped down and rested on the cosmos. Of course, no camera was at hand! I rushed back into the house for the camera, but she had moved on to other areas.

She paused just long enough on this zinnia in the main garden for me to get proof of her existence here, although she refused to open her wings.

I'm hoping this is just the first of more to come---could I dare to call this my Butterfly Garden?

So there you have it--this is what this little garden looks like today. Not a very flattering photo, especially in the bright sunlight. But if you were here, we could explore it together, finding all the little hidden surprises tucked in every nook and cranny and behind the taller flowers. For example, just today I was surprised that a "weed" I had left in place turned out to be . . .

. . . a blooming Poppy! Thank you, Cheryl!

All I need is a name for this wild/native/weed/hodge-podge/friendship/sensory/butterfly garden . . . What do you suggest?

Book Review: Plum Spooky

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@Barrie Summy

"Sometimes you get up in the morning and you know it's going to be one of those days. No toothpaste left in the tube, no toilet paper on the cardboard roll, hot water cuts out halfway through your shower, and someone's left a monkey on your doorstep."

We've all had days like this--well, maybe not the monkey on the doorstep--but bail bondswoman Stephanie Plum seems to have more than her fair share of unfortunate complications. On the hunt for Martin Munch, who is wanted for failure to appear in court for stealing a prototype of a vapor magnetometer, Stephanie runs into an eerie villain named Wulf Grimoire, who can disappear in a puff of smoke. Wulf has big plans for world domination and has enlisted Munch, a young genius in physics, to help in his schemes. As Stephanie searches for Munch through a strange wooded area in New Jersey called the Barrens, she realizes that this is not a simple bounty hunt, but that much more is at stake. Bizarre characters living in the barrens, a kidnapping, and a pen full of monkeys wearing helmets all add to the mystery that Stephanie must solve.

"Surprise Lilies" are a bit spooky, too, seemingly appearing out of nowhere on a late July day.


Fortunately, Stephanie has plenty of help. Carl, the monkey deposited on her doorstep by a friend, goes along for the ride as Stephanie tracks down her prey and actually helps in a few instances. Colorful characters like Lula from the office is more than eager to shoot off a few bullets. And then there are the men . . . For someone who describes herself as "a bran muffin in a bakery case filled with eclairs," Stephanie Plum certainly attracts some interesting and attractive men. Besides her current boyfriend Joe Morelli and her "guardian angel" Ranger, there is the gorgeous Diesel who invites himself into Stephanie's apartment and into her case. It is Diesel who tells Stephanie the story of Wulf and becomes her partner and sometime savior in thwarting the plans of Wulf and Munch.

Knowing how much I like mysteries, several friends have recommended Janet Evanovich's novels to me. I checked one out of the library a few years ago, but just couldn't get into it and returned it without finishing it. Apparently I picked up one of her romances, of which she has written several, instead of one of her mysteries. Plum Spooky, one of the Stephanie Plum novels, had me hooked by the first paragraph, and kept me chuckling throughout as the mystery unfolded. Who wouldn't enjoy a writer with a witty flair for description and a family like Stephanie's: "Grandma buys her clothes at The Gap, her sneakers at Payless, and her Metamucil at the supermarket." This is a quick, fun read, perfect light reading for the beach or an end-of-the summer evening in the Lazyboy.


Each of the Stephanie Plum series has a number cleverly placed in its title, but Plum Spooky is one of the "Between the numbers" novels, meaning there are actually more than the fifteen numbered novels. Evanovich's latest, Finger Lickin' Fifteen, is now in the bookstores and has received very favorable reviews. Will I check it out or even buy it? The answer is a resounding yes--I am plum hooked!





Check out Barrie Summy's posting of various book reviews today or scroll below for this week's ABC post.

Whew! Two posts in one day . . . I'm going to have to rest for awhile:)

ABC Wednesday: Colorful C's

For this week's ABC letter of C, you probably would guess that I would feature my signature plant, the purple coneflower, which is still in riotous bloom at the moment. (See sidebar photo to the right for the latest visitor here.) But I have written about this favorite of mine and posted so many pictures of it that I thought instead today I would feature a couple of shady characters who haven't received much press here.

First, the Coleus. Several years ago, when the Kong Coleus pictured above was first introduced, it was all the rage. It's understandable, although this rather washed-out photo doesn't do it justice: its large leaves and deep colors commanded attention in any container planting.

In the last few years, however, breeders have created so many interesting variations of the original, humble coleus that I seldom buy the Kong variety any more. Most of the coleus in my garden are used in container plantings; this pink-veined green and white one provides the perfect complement to some hot pink impatiens.

Others, like this gaudy multi-colored coleus, are planted in the shade garden to add some much-needed summer color. All my coleus are planted in partial shade, but they will grow well in any light conditions. However, according to planting instructions, their colors intensify in shade or partial shade.

This coleus actually has more of a bronze tint than shows up here and is paired with a yellow callibrocha and a "Key Lime" heuchera in a large crock.

While many of the coleus I purchased this season had no names, this one does--it's called "Royal Glissade." But the names really don't matter anyway, as each plant can differ from its parent in appearance. I don't look at the tags when buying them . . . I just pick out the ones I like. And this year I had to restrain myself from buying one every time I went plant shopping!

Coleus are so easy to grow; anyone can grow these in a garden or as a houseplant. Remove the seed heads as they form, and pinch them back every so often to avoid their becoming too leggy. This "Religious Radish" can grow to 42" according to its label, but I have pinched it back frequently to create a bushier shape. Although I purchased all my coleus seedlings this year, they are very easy to grow from seed or to propagate from cuttings. I've already taken cuttings from all the plants purchased this spring and rooted them in water, then planted them in new pots. If I take care of them over the winter I won't even have to buy new ones next spring . . . unless I see another one I like, of course:)

"Big Red Judy" was the first choice this spring with her dark red, almost black foliage. Indeed, "Judy" is so big that I couldn't get all of her in this photo:) Notice how well she partners here with another shady plant . . .

. . . the Caladium

Like coleus, Caladiums are grown for their interesting foliage rather than blooms and come in so many color combinations to add color to the shade garden. They can be planted as bulbs in the spring, but this year I splurged and bought plants instead. This fall I plan to dig them up and replant them again next spring.

None of the tags had names, other than "Pink" or "White," but it doesn't really matter what they're named . . .

They're all beautiful to me!

Thanks to the ever-gracious Mrs. Nesbitt for hosting another round of ABC Wednesday.

Garden Muse Day: Prairie Reverie and Daylily Delights

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee

One clover and a bee,

And revery.

The revery alone will do

If bees are few.

--Emily Dickinson

The past two weeks have been busy ones with little free time for blog reading or keeping up with the garden. But it's been a good "busy," so I am not complaining. One of those busy days was spent with Beckie last week when we took advantage of her day off from work to visit two places we have been wanting to see for awhile.

Our first stop of the morning was at Meadowbrook Park in Urbana, Illinois where approximately 30 acres are devoted to a prairie restoration area pictured above. With a plentiful supply of clover and bees, no "revery" was necessary to conjure up the sight of the tallgrass prairie--it lay in plain view before us.

Clumps of native river birch shaded some areas, but most of the prairie restoration project was in full sun, the perfect place for a host of native plants.

Naturally, I was drawn to the purple coneflowers, and if you click to enlarge this photo, you'll see I wasn't the only visitor drawn to these tall natives.

The plants here are not labelled, so it is up to the visitor to identify them for herself. I'm not sure, but these coneflowers closely resemble the original Prairie Coneflowers, Echinacea pallida.

It was very easy to identify this milkweed, although not which particular species it belongs to. It is likely the Common Milkweed, Asclepias syriaca, because most of these specimens were at least five feet tall.

Are you impressed by my ability to give the Latin botanical names here?:) Well, don't be--I took along a handy guidebook of Illinois wildflowers checked out from the local library to help in the identification. Beckie and I consulted it often to help us identify several of the species we didn't know. Without the book we would never have been able to identify this native, Culver's Root, Veronicastrum virginicum.

Nor would we have known the specific name for this monarda--Wild Bergamot, Monarda fistulosa.

There is no planting scheme here; all the natives happily mingle with each other.

Finally, I have a name for this plant--Daisy Fleabane, Erigeron strigosus, which also grows abundantly around our farm. Or is it False Aster, Boltonia asteroides that I have on the farm?? Even with my handy guide, Beckie and I couldn't identify every plant we saw.

This tall plant remains a mystery to us. I thought it might be ironweed, but without any blooms, it's hard for me to tell.

We also weren't sure about this dainty lavender bloom. Any ideas?

The compass plant, however, is easy to recognize. Rising above the prairie field, it reaches heights of 8 feet or more.

When it comes to other yellow flowers, though, there are so many possibilities. These are black-eyed Susans, or are they brown-eyed Susans??

This looks like some type of Helenium; then again, it might be a type of Helianthus. Beckie and I gave up trying to compare the several pages of yellow wildflowers in the guide to the flowers in front of us and just enjoyed the sights.

After an hour of sensory stimulation in the prairie park, we hit the road and traveled through the countryside to find our main destination of the day: 5 Acre Daylily Farm. Neither of us had ever visited a daylily farm before, so this was an eye-opening experience, to say the least.

Beckie has already posted about our visit, but one thing she neglected to mention was that while we were there she was asked for an interview by a local news reporter/journalism instructor. You can check out the end result by visiting the online version of our local newspaper; on the right sidebar click on "Audio Slide Show: Devoted to Daylilies." If you do check this out, please be advised that in the photo with the side view of me, that is NOT a chocolate bar I am stuffing in my mouth. We had missed lunch, and I was trying to re-energize with a granola bar. After seeing this photo, I will definitely be checking out the weight loss book recommended by Carolyn Gail:)

After over an hour of roaming through the fields and oohing and aahing, I hit the wall--is there such a thing as daylily overload?? It was time to make some hard decisions about our purchases. I had come prepared with a list of choices from 5 Acre's website, but I had to whittle this down to fit my budget. I purchased "Little Grapette" after reading glowing recommendations for it from many of you.

My other choices, though, were determined by my own very scientific method. Number 1, is it pretty? "Tangerine Rose Ruffles" fit that bill, and a fan was dug up to take home.

So did "Moonlight Serenade," still blooming here in my shade garden. My other criteria for selection was . . . a catchy name. "Prairie Blue Eyes" was chosen for obvious reasons, and what English teacher could pass up "Canterbury Tales"? Neither was still in bloom, so no photos available here. "Tennyson" was a little pricey, but "Divine Comedy" and "Romeo Lies Bleeding" might just find their way here next summer.

Before leaving, though, the owner enticed us with one more offer. As daylily breeders, they create new hybrids each year. At the end of the season, some are selected to be propagated next year, but the nameless leftovers are sold off for $15 a clump. That meant Beckie and I could easily divide and share these unique lilies and give them whatever name we chose. Beckie has appropriately named hers "Dragonfly Corner" and already shared a large fan with me.

My choice has been temporarily planted in the shade garden until I can create a new flowerbed just for daylilies. It is also still nameless, though I am thinking of calling it "Prairie Sunrise"--what do you think?

Beckie also admired this large orange and yellow beauty, and I purchased this to give to her in memory of my goddaughter Andrea. I know it will cast a special light in the Dragonfly Corner garden.

All in all, it was a wonderful day to stimulate the senses and nourish the soul, not to mention spending it in the company of a very dear friend.

For more Muse Day posts, please visit our hostess, Carolyn Gail of Sweet Home and Garden Chicago.