Category Archives: Gardening

Tuesday View–October 10, 2017

It’s been a long time since I’ve shared any news, but I haven’t had the heart. These photos, taken on Tuesday, September 12, the morning after Hurricane Irma crossed the Upstate, tell the story.

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View looking towards the carport from the front porch.

 

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Towards the house and carport from the top of the drive.
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And down the street, with our house on the left.

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The white oak from our garden that pulled down a telephone pole (seen just beyond the tree) with electric, cable, and telephone wires.

Irma, a tropical storm when it reached South Carolina, brought several inches of rain and wind gusts of 50 to 60 miles per hour, which was a misfortune for us and our neighbor to the north. Together, we lost six towering trees, and many smaller trees, including three eastern hemlocks (Tsuga canadensis) that provided a barrier between the two properties and a beautiful Kousa dogwood (Cornus kousa) beside our carport.

One of the largest trees in our front garden, a white oak (Quercus alba), toppled a telephone pole as it fell. So, we were without electricity for 4 days and had neither cable nor telephone (landline) for 10 days.

When you live through a storm like this, however, you count your blessings. No one here was hurt and nothing was damaged that can’t be fixed.  And soon after the photos above were taken, good neighbors arrived and helped us clear the driveway.

Many others suffered much worse and are still suffering, especially those in the Caribbean. Not only from Irma, but also Harvey, Maria, and Nate. Today, sadly, there is news of a new tropical storm, Ophelia, which is forecast to reach hurricane strength by Thursday.

In the next weeks, we will have 3 additional trees removed, since they’ve been left in precarious position. Then, repairs will be made and a new roof put on the carport and house. All should be in good order again before Thanksgiving.

Even today, when the sun finally broke through the clouds after soaking rains, I could see a bit of the old magic.  After just four weeks, the garden is already recovering its charms.

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Tuesday, October 10, 2017

 

 

 

Dahlias for Southern Gardens

It’s been nearly three years since I set off on a late-August morning for Cashiers, North Carolina, for a visit to a meeting of the Carolinas Dahlia Society, but I’ll never forget the enthusiasm and comradery of the members that day, nor the buckets of glorious blooms they brought with them.

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Buckets of blooms and good friends at a meeting of the Carolinas Dahlia Society.

Dahlias, a group of tender, tuberous plants, begin to flower just as the growing season starts to wane, extending the garden’s splendor when most daisies, daylilies, and other summer perennials have finished their show. Typically, they provide the vivid colors that make fall gardens so satisfying and are excellent companions for the asters, salvias, and sedums, which also bloom this time of year.

Since their initial introduction in the late 1700s, dahlias have been selectively hybridized into a remarkable group of ornamentals. While most plants have just two sets of chromosomes, dahlias have eight, allowing a much greater variation among hybrids.

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Eight chromosomes allow for a wide variation among hybrids, as exhibited here by ‘Hilltop Sapphire’, ‘AC Angie’, ‘Hilltop Mimi’, and ‘Hilltop Glo’.

Cultivars range in size from just inches to towering heights and flowers comprise a wide array of sizes, shapes, and colors. Plus, once dahlias begin to bloom, they’re the epitome of cut-and-come-again. The more you pick, the more they flower, with blooms opening nonstop until frost.

Not all dahlias are equal, however, especially in the hot and humid growing conditions of Upstate gardens. Careful selection of heat-tolerant dahlias is critical to success in the Carolinas. Native to the high mountain plateaus of Mexico and Guatemala, most dahlias prefer warm days and cool nights.

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Dahlias with single-form flowers, such as this ‘Bishop of York’ in the display area of the Cashiers garden, are easy to mingle with other plants.

Heirloom dahlias that are heat-tolerant include ‘Bishop of Llandaff’, ‘Juanita’, ‘Kidd’s Climax’, ‘Prince Noir’, and ‘Thomas Edison’. Among newer cultivars, look for ‘Ben Houston’, ‘Elsie Houston’, ‘Hilltop Glo’, ‘Island Dynasty’, ‘Kenora Firefighter’, ‘Otto’s Thrill’, and ‘Zorro’. The best single-form flowers, which mingle easily in both borders and containers, include ‘Alpen Cherub’, ‘Honka’, and ‘Marie Schnugg’.

For a comprehensive list of recommended plants, visit the website of the Dahlia Society of Georgia.

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‘Otto’s Thrill’, which can measure 8 to 10-inches wide, produces one of the biggest blooms among dahlias recommended for Carolina gardens.

 

Sunflower Daze

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A small part of the 10 acres of sunflowers on the Pellett farm.

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When the plants are young and supple they rotate with the sun, but as their stems grow rigid they become fixed in the direction of the sunrise.

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The rays of this immature bloom are just beginning to color.

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One tallboy backlit by the afternoon sun.

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And all host to a multitude of pollinators, including variegated fritillary (Euptoieta claudia).

In A Vase and more…

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Easy-to-love sunflowers (Helianthus annuus) add an extra measure of charm to the sunporch.

Even though it’s a bit overwhelming for the small French table, I couldn’t resist putting this vase of sunflowers next to my favorite chair where I enjoy my first cup of morning coffee with Bella (seen here) and Rudy, both snuggled in my lap. It’s a great place to watch the sun come up and, in winter when the trees are bare, to observe the squirrels welcome the day, leaping from tree limb to tree limb.

Perched above a steep slope that reaches down to the Reedy River, the sunporch provides pretty views throughout the year, especially in spring when the Carolina silverbell (Helesia tetraptera) blooms. Last summer, miserably hot and dry from May through October, was cause for complaint, but we’ve had plenty of rain so far this year. The total for the first six months was just shy of 30 inches, which puts us nearly seven inches ahead. Fingers crossed our good luck holds, so nature continues to rebound from the drought of 2016.

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The native sunflower is grown as a crop in all contiguous 48 states.

Sunflowers, such as these beauties, were domesticated in the western U.S. from native plants more than 1,000 years ago and were introduced to Europe courtesy of the Spaniards in 1510. It wasn’t until the plant reached Russia in the late 1800s, however, that its value was recognized and it began to be improved as a modern crop. Today, oilseed varieties contain nearly 50% oil, more than twice the amount of native species. Vegetable oil is the plant’s primary use, but it’s also cropped as a snack food, for bird and livestock feed, and for industrial uses. The hulls, a side product, are made into poultry litter, fireplace logs, and other high-fiber products.

These sunflowers were grown for a different reason, however. They came from a friend who plants 10 acres of the flowers on his farm to attract birds. Finches, he notes, will eat immature seeds, but most others wait for the heavy heads to mature. ‘Peredovik’ is the most common variety selected for wildlife.

Did you notice the vase? It’s a salt-glazed jug I found on my recent garden tour to Flanders, plucked from a flea market in Bruges for 10 euro. I have a weakness for old pottery and this jug, with its two-tone finish, reminded me of pots in Vincent van Gogh’s sunflower series. The vendor said it dated from the 1930s and was probably used to bring beer from a barrel in the basement up to the table. Overall, I found Bruges disappointing because of its commercialism and horde of tourists, but I did manage a few pretty canal photos, including this one.

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Bruges, May 2017.

One visit on the tour that didn’t disappoint was the Kroller-Muller Museum in the Netherlands where I learned a great deal more about Van Gogh. Helene Kroller-Muller was one of the first to recognize the genius of the artist and the museum she founded has the second-largest collection of Vincent van Gogh’s paintings, after the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam.

No print can do Van Gogh justice. Viewed in person, the colors and brushstokes of his paintings convey indescribable emotion.  I was particularly drawn to Wheatstacks in Provence (1888).

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Wheatstacks in Provence, Vincent van Gogh, June 1888.

Wheat was a frequent subject for Van Gogh, who saw sowing, plowing, and harvesting wheat as symbolic of birth, life, and death; a way to find meaning in nature and its cycles. He wrote to his sister, Wil, “What the germinating force is in a grain of wheat, love is in us.”

Any gardener, I think, will appreciate this sentiment…and perhaps question if Van Gogh was as crazy as conventional history teaches.

Back in the sunroom, I’m celebrating nature on a much smaller scale with a little collection of houseplants, including staghorn fern (Platycerium bifurcatum), crocodile fern (Microsorum musifolium), and beefsteak begonia (B. x erythrophylla). This trio is nearly all that remains from the 30 or so potted plants I grew this past winter for a spring flower show. The begonia, cultivated from a stem cutting, received a blue ribbon, the staghorn fern a yellow, and the crocodile fern a white.

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(L to R) Staghorn fern, crocodile fern, and beefsteak begonia.

Until recently, I’ve never taken to houseplants, but the shady garden here and lack of blooms makes growing any plant more rewarding. These, of all in the bunch, were the easiest to grow and were kept simply because I enjoyed them most.

There’s another collection of sorts too. These small ginger jars are also loot from the recent trip, found in a antique store in Weesp, just after the visit to Jacqueline van der Kloet’s Tea Garden.

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More old pottery with a bit of bling.

Despite their grime (the jar in the foreground has been cleaned), I guessed they were vintage rather than antique. I don’t remember jars like this in use, but was told they were made for importing ginger from China, perhaps as recently as the 1950s and 60s.

The lamp is created from a pottery piece of unknown origin found at a flea market in Charlotte, North Carolina. The sparkling knife rests, also once covered in dirt and grime, were found in a tiny shop at Chateau de Loose on last summer’s trip to the Dordogne. They proved to be real treasure–lead crystal–when the airport x-ray machine read them as metal weapons, triggering a bag search.

Sunflowers, dogs, pottery, weather, hybridization, birds, art, travel, houseplants, souvenirs…goodness, I have rambled on, haven’t I? But it’s good to be home after a long stretch away, to relish family, friends, and the comfort of my nest, and to find, finally, the leisure to write.

Bloom Day–A Tale of Two Hydrangeas

When I moved to this shady neighborhood with towering hardwood trees nearly seven years ago, I was happy to find several species of hydrangeas growing in the garden. Since then, I’ve added even more of these beautiful and easy-to-grow shrubs.

My favorite hydrangea was not planted here, however, it grows wild. Hydrangea radiata, though limited in its native range to the southern Appalachian region, is common in the Upstate and I often see it on my wildflower hikes. In the garden here, it grows on a moist, north-facing slope above the Reedy River.

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Hydrangea radiata, commonly called silverleaf.

Called silverleaf by those who prefer common names, this hydrangea has striking foliage as well as pretty flowers. While the upper surface of the leaf is green, the underside is bright white, a tale-tell feature easily seen when ruffled by wind.

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Hydrangea foliage (top row, left to right): a small unidentified cultivar with pale pink booms, H. radiata, and H. arborescens ‘Incrediball’; and (bottom row, left to right): H. macrophylla and H. quercifolia.

In June, creamy-white blooms open at the tips of the shrub’s spreading branches.  Clusters are flat-topped, with larger, sterile flowers surrounding a center of fertile flowers that produce pollen and seeds. One of the nicest things about this hydrangea is that it attracts a wide variety of pollinators.

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A very bee-friendly shrub.

In early spring 2012, I added a (then) new selection of hydrangea to the garden that also blooms in June. Named Incrediball, this Hydrangea arborescens, commonly known as smooth hydrangea, is touted as an improvement over its popular parent, Annabelle, offering thicker, sturdier stems that prevent flopping after rain.

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Incrediball hydrangea (H. arborescens)

Like others of its species, Incrediball blooms on new wood, so even when killed to the ground during a hard winter, new branches produce summer flowers. It’s also said to be more floriferous than Annabelle, with up to four times more flowers.

This selection, with its bold white blooms that fade to parchment and persist throughout the winter, has become a great favorite. Sadly, it’s also much-loved by voles, but that’s another story.

Linking to Garden Bloggers Bloom Day at May Dreams Gardens.

Dutch Master–Jacqueline van der Kloet

I first learned about Jacqueline van der Kloet, a Dutch designer celebrated for her innovative use of bulbs, two years ago when planning a garden tour to the Netherlands and Belgium. Last month, when that tour finally came to fruition, it was Jacqueline’s Tea Garden in Weesp, a small town near Amsterdam, which proved to be the great favorite of nearly everyone.

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The Tea Garden showcases naturalistic compositions of herbaceous plants among trees and shrubs.

The garden, which features naturalistic compositions of bulbs and other perennials, is planted among a framework of trees and shrubs. Harmonizing these herbaceous plants can be tricky, however, so the designer uses the space to experiment with combinations of color, texture, habit, and bloom time, perfecting the balance, rhythm, and “painterly effect” she is known for.

Arriving in Weesp, we were awed by the beauty and charm of surrounding grasslands, rivers, and the Amsterdam-Rhine Canal, as well as the town’s historic center. Handsome buildings dating from the seventeenth and eighteenth century, three classic windmills, and pristine waterways and roads make this area a lovely stop for tourists.

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Popular with tourists, Weesp is crisscrossed by rivers and the Amsterdam-Rhine Canal.

Just steps from the historic district and tucked behind a fortified bastion built in 1674, the Tea Garden was found at the end of a short lane. There, cradled between an old barn remodeled into offices and a private residence, both painted a striking blue-green, the garden sparkled in the morning light.

Evergreen hedges and winding pathways establish a circular flow around the garden. Some of the woody plants grow in their natural form, but many are clipped. A large doublefile viburnum is trained into a small tree and many shrubs are shaped into fanciful forms, such as spirals, domes, and animals, including a peacock and teddy bear.

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Some shrubs are clipped into fanciful forms and animal shapes.

What truly distinguishes the garden, however, is the blend of perennials intertwined in loose, Impressionistic swaths, in a way that appears as if the flowers have sprung up on their own.

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The cool blue and purple throughout the garden is accented here with sharp yellow and orange.

Among the tulips, alliums, columbine, geums, poppies, lupins, and lacy umbels, the daffodils and hellebores of yesterday and the lilies and coneflowers of tomorrow were evident.  Foliage plants, such as hostas, ferns, and ornamental grasses, added layers of texture, while the smooth curves of pathways were intentionally (and charmingly) disrupted by the undulating forms of clipped box and spreading perennials.

The color scheme was restricted, but not static. Cool blue and purple flowed throughout the garden, accented with soft pink and salmon in some areas and bold chartreuse and orange in others. One of the most striking combinations featured blue cranesbill geraniums punctuated with golden Alexander (Smyrnium perfoliatum) and white, goblet-shaped tulips.

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White, goblet-shaped tulips stand tall above a mix of blue cranesbill geranium, golden Alexander (Smyrnium perfoliatum), and other herbaceous plants.

Interestingly, as a teenager, Jacqueline hoped to attend art school, but was dissuaded by parents who worried about her financial security. By chance, she met an old school friend training in landscape architecture and opted for a career in design, studying in Boskoop and Brussels and then designing public spaces with a firm before opening her own business with two colleagues in the 1980s and focusing on residential design.

We saw more of Jacqueline’s work at Keukenhof Gardens, possibly the world’s most overwhelming spring landscape with more than seven million tulips, daffodils, and other bulbs over 32 hectares.  In the United States, she has designed gardens for the New York Botanical Gardens and the Colorblends House and Spring Garden in Bridgeport, Connecticut, and worked in conjunction with Piet Ouldolf on various projects, including Battery Park in New York and the Lurie Garden in Chicago.

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Last look–a happy harmony of allium, columbine, and cranesbill geranium.

For more inspiration and information, take the opportunity to visit Jacqueline’s website found here.

Acanthus Summer Beauty

In the past year, because of damaging storms and drought, it seems my garden story has been more about failure than success.  So I’m excited to show you this cluster of Acanthus Summer Beauty, which survived March and April’s crazy temperature fluctuations to produce an amazing 15 bloom spikes.

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Acanthus Summer Beauty

The group, planted near the front door to add textural interest to the green garden designed to soften a large expanse of asphalt driveway, includes three plants that have knitted together to make a handsome show.

Imported from China by Chet Tompkins of Oregon, the hybrid is believed to be a cross between A. mollis and A. spinosus. Of all acanthus species and hybrids, this one holds up best in our hot summer climate.

A close look shows the complexity of individual flowers, which have been described as “a little frog-like creature hiding under a hood (calyx) and holding up a white hanky.”

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Look a little closer…

Winter or summer, everyone is curious about this plant.  It’s a beauty, don’t you think?  

This quick post, like many others in recent months, is a quick hello and goodbye.  Just home from an event in Minnesota, I’m frantically repacking for an afternoon departure for a long-planned garden tour to the Netherlands and Belgium with some of my favorite travel friends.  Hope I can post a few photos…and will plan to catch up with you soon.

Tot ziens voor nu!