Sweet Abraham

Some stories are hard to tell. They don't roll from the tongue or flow from the pen but lie tangled like twine with no clear beginning. This is such a story.

***

I stand in the kitchen, silent. Groceries clutter the counter and toys litter the floor. The children shout as he walks in, rushing towards him, lost in his long arms. He is home for seven days before leaving again for seven more. Home and away are our only constants and we lose track of time lost. Three months, six months. It all becomes the same.

He pulls me away from the stove, understanding my silence. "How was work?" he asks. "Crap". It is my only response. I lay my head against his chest, exhausted.

I can see them through the window as I dig. The boy parades in his flight jacket and the girl shows him how to dress her dolls. I thrust the shovel deeper, sandy soil crashing to the bottom like waves. I haul it to the top just to watch it slide back in.

Swiss cheese holes like craters fill the newest bed but the digging doesn't stop. The back door creaks open as the porch light flickers on. "Hey, it's dark" he yells before retreating into the house only to pop out like a prairie dog moments later. "Maybe if you had a mining helmet, this would be easier." I ignore him but start to smile. The door creaks open again and he continues his comedic assault. "The county called. They said you hit water and need to stop."

The gardens are all the same, regardless of address. There is no plan, just a need. Long beds circle the grass before curving back towards the house, a comforting embrace as perpetual as my singleness. I toss the shovel into the hole and sit in the grass. Fuzzy lamb's ears soft under my fingers slow down my breathing and I begin to relax. I leave the shovel in the hole. I'll be back in seven days.

To cope with the stress of being an almost single parent while working at a school I didn't like, grieving my fathers death and adjusting to another new town, I would create new garden beds and then fill them with holes. After finding a new teaching position, I began filling the holes with perennials and roses. I filled the biggest hole with the David Austin rose, Abraham D'Arby, a rose that also grows in my current garden.

The Newbie Confessions

Every year I post a list of all the new plants I've added to the garden during my fall/spring transplant-a-thons and every winter I fess up to how many of them I've killed or tortured. It's humbling, to say the least. 

From fall 2012 to spring 2013, I added numerous perennials and a few small shrubs. Most are still in the garden. The rest have been buried in shallow graves.

The Casualties and Not Quite Deads

'Dream of Beauty' asters

I did my absolute best to kill these. I really did. Despite being excited to add them to the garden, I foolishly planted them in a "dry" section of my rain garden. News flash: there are no dry sections of my rain garden. That's why it's called a rain garden. Even when it's not raining, the soil is heavy and moist. I rescued the lone survivor mid-summer and planted it in a pot with excellent drainage. It's still alive but laughs when I pass.

'Ascot Rainbow' euphorbia

I added three 'Ascot Rainbow' to the garden last fall and they sailed through winter, their foliage growing more beautiful as the temps dropped. But while freezing weather didn't bother them, they couldn't survive the annual anemone invasion. They also didn't appreciate being planted under the shade of a crape myrtle. Oops! By mid-summer, I only had one euphorbia left. This fall, I found another on the sale table at our local nursery and as part of my shade garden redesign moved them both to a much brighter spot. I think they'll make it. At least that's what I'm telling myself.

'Wenlock Beauty' wallflowers

I killed these superdead. Planted in a pot near my back door so I could enjoy their fragrance, they never bloomed. Having read they thrived when neglected, I took my new knowledge to heart and ignored them. They repaid my efforts by dying a slow, miserable death. By the time I realized I had been duped, it was too late. They only want to be ignored if planted in full sun in moist, very well draining soil. Mostly sunny with dry soil isn't quite the same. However, my determination to figure how to grow these has led me to purchase a new victim off the sale table and try again. It's planted in full sun in well draining soil that I plan on keeping moist. Who knew?

'Dark Ponticum' monarda

This is 'Peter's Purple' instead of 'Dark Ponticum' but they look very similar.

Hello, I'm Tammy and I'm addicted to monarda. Maybe it's the Rastafarian flowers or their "Yes, my hair is supposed to look like this. Deal with it!" attitude, but I find them irresistible.  If they looked more normal, I would like them less. 'Dark Ponticum' needs less water than most but its reputed ability to grow in shade is pure baloney. It thrived in the garden until two months of rain created so much growth in my crape myrtles, they blocked the sun. I moved them to a sunnier spot and they immediately put out new growth.


The Survivors

'Star Dreamer' daylily

I completely forgot to take any pictures of this plant because I'm just amazing like that. They are a tall, fragrant, light yellow daylily. 

Since it's impossible to kill a daylily, I grow a lot of them. Every year I rip chunks of them out as my garden grows shadier and eagerly gift them to friends. But I added the 'Star Dreamer' daylily to a pot and it's thrilled. After telling myself to stop buying daylilies and just rearrange the ones I already have, I turned around and bought more dayliles. Why? Because they were purple. What color were the other ones? Not purple.

'Pink Octopus' campanula

These are so happy growing in well drained partial shade, I added more. Like most campanula, they spread quickly but I consider that a bonus since they are well behaved invaders. Of course, I spent all summer waiting for them to grow to 18" only to discover they only reach 8-10 inches. I consider this an indicator of either sleep deprivation or early dementia. Both are entirely plausible.

'Star Cluster' and 'Full Moon' coreopsis

'Full Moon' are yellow and 'Star Cluster' are white.

If you give coreopsis hot sun and well drained soil, they will love you long time. These bloomed all summer in my front butterfly garden and only needed to be watered during periods of drought.

'Caradonna' and 'Rose Queen' salvia 

'Rose Queen' with orange milkweed

'Caradonna' is in the background.

These grow alongside the coreopsis and are some of the toughest plants in my garden. I kept them pinched back to encourage more flowers and fuller growth. They were also some of the first perennials to bloom in spring, much to my surprise. But the pollinators must have been waiting since they were lined up like kids for
candy as soon as the flowers opened.

'Red Hot' lilies

These aren't actually red but I love the name, anyway.

The bulbs were planted in fall 2012 and the plants are still small. Next spring, I'm going to tie them to stakes to help them push their way through the bleeding heart foliage without growing crooked. The plantings around my Big Daddy rain barrel are a bit of a hodge podge.

Since I'm in confessional mode, I have to admit the name was part of the reason I bought these lilies. I like the idea of having a clump of red hot hussies strutting their stuff on the side of my house. But of course, I also think there should be a cultivar of banana tree known as Well Hung but that nugget of horticultural genius is continually ignored. I can't figure out why. My Red Hot ladies pushed and shoved their way through the massive bleeding heart to provide interest long after it had gone dormant. My gals need more support, though, and an artistic plant stake plan is underway.

'Shimmer' evening primrose (Oenathera fremontii)

This is a tough plant. It spent part of the summer fending of the advances of an aging parsley plant who was determined to have one last fling before calling it quits. They simply grew under the parsley like a rug until I yanked it out. Once their lanky growth was cut back, they flourished and required very little care.

'Venice' dwarf hydrangea

I wish they were more purple than pink, but the pink is pretty, too.

The hydrangea grows next to my mosaic pot. There is another one on the other side of the steps. 

I really shouldn't grow hydrangea since I don't have a good spot for them, but I missed them so much I bought these little dwarf cultivars and stuck them in pots on my front porch. As long as I remember to water them, they're very happy.

'Jelly Bean' and 'Peach Sorbet' blueberries

'Peach Sorbet' in early spring

I love blueberries but after losing my big shrubs in the Wheelbarrow Wars of 2005, I'd given up on ever growing them again. When I saw these at a trade show, I was hooked. I was hit with a serious case of plant lust and since a girl wants what she wants....I ended up with one of each. They have incredible fall and spring foliage and were bred to thrive in a container. They grow on my patio and I'm able to munch the berries before the birds find them. Score one for Tammy!

The Rock Bottom Resolution

I hadn't planned on making any resolutions this year after realizing I had failed miserably at the ones I created last January. Did I blow my budget, cuss at large trees and buy too many plants? Yes, yes, and yes. I was quite successful, however, at just enjoying life, singing like a strangled cat, and dancing even when people were watching. But I tend to be like that, anyway.

But this year, I've decided to class myself up a bit. I know you're shocked to discover I'm not the epitome of cool, detached elegance. So am I. It's a wretched way to start the day. Perhaps if I were more Audrey Hepburn and less Bridget Jones this wouldn't be so difficult. I've known for a while I wasn't the classiest dame out there but was having too much fun to care. But this year I want to give it a try. I resolve to become a classy gardener.

The Bridget Jones movies always make me laugh. I relate embarrassingly well to her gumption, silliness, and willingness to speak her mind.

As with most resolutions, my awareness that I needed to change was made stunningly clear last year. After finally realizing there were TWO Christopher Lloyds and that the mad scientist from the movie Back to the Future wasn't living a double life as a dead British gardener, I was able to bluff my way through conversations about garden design and history.

Gardener

 Not a gardener

But I finally hit rock bottom when I had a notion to add more sweetbox  (sarcococca hookeriana -pronounced sar-COKE-co-cah) to my garden. Having grown this shrub in my garden for years, I should know how to pronounce its Latin name. Should - let's just emphasize that. Since many shrubs have common names that are only common in certain areas of the country, I decided to use the Latin name to make sure I purchased the right plant.

I no longer refer to sweetbox by its Latin name. Ever.

It never occurred to me when I opened my mouth that I would butcher and destroy the name so badly the polite, reserved horticulturalist helping me would burst out laughing and then try desperately to control himself.  The conversation went something like this:

Me: Where's your sar-COCK-cah? I really like them and was looking for a big one.
Him: Laughter
Me: Oops....

American Gothic at the Casa
Does imitating classic art make you classier?

The only problem with this resolution is I'm not sure how to become classier. Garden in matching outfits that have been sprayed with Teflon to repel soil and sweat? Whisper 'Oh my!' instead of shouting words that rhyme with truck when I impale myself on sharp objects or trip over my own feet? Maybe. Perhaps I'll sip Chardonnay from a lawn chair while a loin cloth clad Jeffery Dean Morgan look-alike gardens for me. So many options.... 

The Almost Arbor Update

Blame it on the bunnies but I can't decide whether I should be horrified or happy. Last spring I built a funky metal arbor out of odds and ends I found at our local hardware store. My master plan involved growing annual cypress vines up the arbor to woo the hummingbirds and make my neighbors jealous. It didn't work. By mid-June those cute, fuzzy demons of plant death had chomped them off at ground level. They didn't even stick around to eat what they had slaughtered. They just chomped and ran.

Life at the Casa

Cypress Vine

I fumed and stomped but with a vacation on the horizon, I decided to just ignore the carnage and put my faith in the beans growing up the other side. But when I returned in July, the wimpy beans had barely grown in our freakishly cool, soggy weather. Determined to have something growing up my arbor I rushed to our local nursery, bought the first plant with arbor covering potential, and stuffed it in the ground surrounded by a ragged bunny barricade. It grew.

In three months my Mint Crisp honeysuckle grew seven feet. If it continues this rate of growth, I can expect ten more feet of delicious vanilla scented flowering vine to erupt next summer. I'm not sure whether to be excited or slightly terrified.

'Mint Crisp' honeysuckle leaves has variegated leaves and white vanilla scented flowers. It can reach 30 feet tall. I may have ignored that fact when I purchased it.

These just might be tears of happiness...

Holiday Hiatus

The redesigning is done and the bulbs have been planted. The mulch sits patiently while the soaker hoses lie in tangled heaps, waiting their turn. It's almost time to just throw in the trowel and call it a year so that's what I'm doing. 

I wish I could say that by next week I'll be snug in this hammock with a fruity drink in hand but I won't be. Instead I'll be preparing for Thanksgiving and up to my eyeballs in student projects. The closest I'll come to this photo is a mango smoothie and a slice of coconut rum cake. Big sigh....

It's time for a blogcation to focus on other priorities. But here are a few parting shots before we meet again in January.

My Stellar Pink dogwood and part of the dogwood garden

As much as I love my summer garden, I love the flaming colors of fall, too. There are no soloists in my fall garden, just a chorus in sweet harmony. 

The 'Yoshino' cherry was a brilliant orange but most of the leaves fell before I captured many photos. It was a wonderful way to greet each morning.

'Peach Sorbet' blueberries have wonderful fall foliage and were designed to grow in a container. Plus, the berries are really sweet.

 White heart leaf aster seed heads and purple blue plumbago foliage

Creeping raspberry has thick fuzzy foliage with a heavy texture that holds its fall color all winter.

These pots are right outside my kitchen door. I stuffed the pot of daylilies with snowdrop bulbs so I can see them as soon as they sprout. It's like a little present I planted for myself. :o)

These pots are across from the big daylily pot and were stuffed with hyacinth bulbs. I purposely planted the bulbs in pots close to the house for maximum impact. I wanted to be able to see them before heading out for work.

'Mardi Gras abelia

Mighty Fine

Dishes lay jumbled in the sink and unread newspapers clutter the table. A pile of bagged bulbs lean against the wall, slack and loose, like drunks on a curb. Fat dogs snore in their beds as music plays and I dance a small step, hips swaying to the beat.

My list of garden chores grows shorter and my plants slowly surrender to winter sleep, tucked into earthen beds under a blanket of leaves. Cool spring rains filled my garden with lush growth that hid black spot and acthracnose. Summer downpours left a pile of rotting plants that would have thrived in our August drought. I ignore the clutter and continue to dance. Happiness settles deep and I can't help but smile. My garden, like my life, isn't perfect but it's mighty fine and that's enough for me.

These are a few of my favorite summer pictures.

My Peggy Martin rose mostly escaped the black spot plague that devastated my other roses.

The Peggy Martin rose is also known as "The Rose That Survived Hurricane Katrina". 

'Etoille Violet' clematis and a gourd birdhouse form a local artist

'Baltyk' clematis clambering over my mosaic pot

Lucy in the dog run that circles one of the shade gardens. 

Southeastern native, spigelia marylandica

Shasta daisies and self seeded verbena bonariensis

The new front butterfly garden that I always forgot to photograph

The Sunny Side

 'Schwellenberg' yarrow by the rain garden.

I doubled the size of the rain garden this fall and ended up moving this yarrow to a drier spot.

Lilies, monarda, and coneflowers in the dogwood garden

Part of the container garden

Bumblebee on the sedum

Words to live by  :o)

A Message From the Sweet Potatoes

It's hard to resist a sweet potato. They're the nicest spuds in the garden.