A Few Things I Know

Every winter articles and posts abound about how to make this new year a better year and you a better person. But I bet you're fine just the way you are. The longer I garden, the more I learn about myself. I'm sure my posts and garden speak enough about me to keep a therapist busy for years but who cares. I like what I see.

I am as systematic as I am artistic.

I apologized. To a plant. Don't waste time analyzing this. You'll just torture yourself. 

I take notes of what needs to be done in the garden and spend a lot of time observing and analyzing the problem before making any big changes. Usually. However, I have been known to just rip things out and once on a very bad day yelled at a clematis for being the wrong color. I find charts and lists as comforting as piles of art supplies and books. 

I prefer curved lines to straight.

July 2014

Last fall I removed more grass, extended the rain garden and redesigned this area a bit.

My garden curves inward like an embrace to snug around an elliptical lawn, a shape I find comforting. I told someone once that my garden was designed like a hug and they looked at me like I had squid coming out my ears. Whatever. It makes sense to me and that's all that matters. Whenever I see plants imprisoned behind stiff little hedges, I have to fight the urge to cut an escape route and start yelling, "Run, Forest! Run!"

I like full, fluffy shrubs with a natural shape rather than linear, erect ones or little green meatballs. 

Despite having deep appreciation for this shape, I don't want a garden full of them.

Prague viburnums in early May 2014

My property is only eight feet wide on this side of my house. But instead of adding tall skinny shrubs to accent the narrow space or butchering a shrub into a rectangular stripe down the side, I added giant, voluptuous 'Prague' viburnums. Tough evergreens, they provide year round shelter for birds and keep the house cool in the summer.  They are limbed up to increase air circulation and light. 

I like funky art.

This birdhouse was made by a local artist.

Neoclassic urns and cherubs are nice but they're not my style. I like funky, quirky handmade art and refuse to buy anything mass produced in China.

I have a fairly algebraic need for balance.

Curving grass paths on both sides lead you from the gates to the center of the garden. The black log on the upper right is one of my dogs, a dachshund/corgi mix named Baby, who was adopted from a local shelter.

What I do to one side of the garden I will replicate in theme, if not symmetry, on the other. Rocks, birdhouses, birdbaths, copper art, and small shrubs woven among my perennials can be seen throughout my garden.

I need my shady spots as well as the more colorful areas.

This photo was taken in the morning in late May 2014. By early afternoon, the entire back of my garden is in partial to full shade.

There is nothing shy or reserved about me but I tend to be very reflective and spend a great deal of time just wandering about my brain having a think. Parking my butt in the hammock on the shady side of the garden allows me to slow down and just enjoy.

I am an informal, cottage gardener to the bone.

Lucy is a beagle/basset/lab mix adopted from the same shelter as Baby. She is the guardian of the garden.

Anal retentive gardening is not my style. I don't want my plants lined up like naughty boys who were caught playing with their willies instead of going to sleep. My garden is a happy hippie commune and I am the water girl.

I just don't like every plant.

One of these things looks just like the other....

I avoid plants that are stabby, spikey, pokey, prickly or thorny, except for my roses. I am a tactile, affectionate person and like plants I can touch without worrying about needing stitches. But I just don't like cockscomb plant (celosia cristata). It looks like a pile of brains. 

My garden is my art studio, science lab, and workshop. 

Gardening is the perfect marriage of science, engineering, and art. I've designed mine to make me happy, regardless of popular opinion or whatever the latest garden trend may be.

Going Dormant: The Christmas Boycott

Sometimes more is just too much. I do not enjoy the chaos of the holidays, the ridiculous expectation of it all, or the spending. I don't pine away for anything holiday related except for cookies, fudge, and my favorite Christmas movies. By December, stress at the Casa hits absolute saturation. While I'm submerged in piles of grading, my husband has spent the last two years working on a second masters degree despite a busy career. By Dec 25 we are too exhausted for much more than a weary Ho Ho Ho.

This year we decided what we needed wasn't more but less. As a matter of fact, we didn't engage in anything Christmas related at all. Instead of giving each other material gifts, we decided to give each other the one present that can't be returned: the gift of time. Instead of celebrating Christmas, we took a family vacation to the Florida Keys.

The canal behind our house

We rented a small house on Duck Key, near Marathon, one of the middle keys. We rented bikes, kayaked, snorkeled, jet skied, and parasailed. 

Bahia Honda State Park on Bahia Honda Key

The old Keys Highway has been reinforced and repurposed as a walking path along Bahia Honda Key, which help me capture some wonderful photos.

I wasn't able to ID this beauty. 

We also spent time in Key West and are eager to go back. The Key West Butterfly and Nature Conservancy was full of butterflies I'd never seen before. 

 The Owl butterfly is huge!

Roosters run free around the city.

Downtown Key West had live music, street performers, and key lime pie. Rumor has it I ate a lot of pie.

To escape the crowds in Key West, we took a sea plane to Fort Jefferson in the Dry Tortugas. Built as a military fort in the 19th century, it is now a national park. Next to Alcatraz, Fort Jeff is the best place to ride out a zombie apocalypse.

The flight was incredible and we landed right in the water. During the 40 minute flight, I saw a manatee, sharks, sea turtles, dolphins, and a ray. I was seated next to the plane door and kept reminding myself not to lean on it. In case the door flew open, I had grand plans to tumble gracefully from the plane and swan dive into the ocean. Should that plan fail, I was hoping to die of a heart attack in mid-air before being devoured by a shark after landing face first in the Atlantic. 

The Atlantic as seen through a battlement window.

As much as I enjoy the beach, I dislike crowded, noisy places and loved the inaccessibility of the Dry Tortugas. The island was free of trash, screaming kids, or people blasting music. Just sand, surf, and birds.

Corrie the turtle was hit by a boat and has paralyzed back flippers. She is a permanent resident.

In Marathon we visited The Turtle Hospital, a sea turtle rescue and 

rehabilitation center. 

If I lived in the Keys I would join the rescue team. I am a huge turtle lover and share my garden with three eastern box turtles.

Even though it sounds like we were busy, there was plenty of time to just do nothing except read, relax, and spend time with each other. It was the best way to spend Christmas.

The Failure Fallacy

This is not a happy post but a wholly accurate retelling of absolute failure. Last year, after the infamous Sweetbox Situation, I resolved to become a classy gardener. I did not succeed.

I suppose I should have started by finally donning all those matching gardening outfits that keep popping up or toning down the sassy innuendo. But where's the fun in that? When dozens of light pink seedlings sprang up in my garden after I caught my windblown 'Nicky' and 'David' phlox intertwined like lovers, I suppose I should have quietly commented, "Oh my!" and averted my eyes instead of making Baby Daddy jokes. But I didn't. Instead I laughed and asked if his bloom was as big as his boast. 'Nicky' turned hot pink but didn't respond. Points scored? Zero

(Used with permission from the unsuspecting Odd Sock Blog.)

My 'David' was in too much shade to be this studly but he keeps popping up all over the garden, always ready for a bit of lovin'.

Deep in the dregs of winter 2014 and in desperate need of lush landscapes, I settled in for a few hours of Colin Firth in Pride and Prejudice. An intelligent movie was just what I needed to clear my head of all my naughty David jokes but by the middle of the film I was ready to trade in my tea for something stronger. English gardens and sweeping vistas couldn't make up for all the propriety and tension and in typical Tammy-style I started yelling at the TV. 

"Enough with all the small talk, Elizabeth! Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him and then kiss him again!" I would have definitely taken my advice but I don't think I scored any extra points.

Colin Firth as Mr Darcy, who really needs to lighten up.

Since none of my heckling had rewritten Pride and Prejudice, I tried a different tactic. Maybe I would try being more cultured by embracing my inner Ginger Rogers with dancing lessons. But I shook my booty too much for ballroom and didn't want to waltz. Points scored? Zero

The final verdict came this fall as I crouched in the garden, eagerly digging up plants for my annual transplant-a-thon, also known as the Happy Plant Hokey Pokey. As one plant came out and another went in, I heard a rip and suddenly froze. Hidden behind a wall of foliage, I bent down to asses the damage. A huge gash in my favorite gardening pants had left my underwear on full display. With my other pair in the wash and unwilling to finish up for the day,  I did what any fabulous gardener would do. I laughed at myself, adjusted my pants, and just kept gardening. 

Classy points = Zero 

Life's Too Short to Care points = A lot

Classy is as classy does, honey, and I'm practically the Ritz. 

Not Just a Blahg

Do you know Lee May? I don't really know him but I feel like I do. He is a garden blogger with a kind, gentle wit and an appreciation for simple, natural forms. We shared a love of rocks, writing, and fearless pruning.

Lee May has died of cancer after a very short illness and when I read his last post I burst into tears, thick, shocked drops that filled my eyes. How can I cry for someone I don't know? Because blogs aren't truly about the garden but the gardener. When you get to know the blogger, you also get to know the gardener and you are an easy lot to love.

To leave a message for his family, please visit his blog at Lee May's Gardening Life.

The Curtain Call

If every gardening season were like an opera then fall must be the final act. The soft overture of spring gives way to the intensity of summer before finally bowing to the curtain call of early winter. My gardening for the year is done.

Plants have been pulled, divided, composted, swapped, ordered, planted, transplanted, and then transplanted again.

Salvia koyame is a tough fall blooming salvia that thrives in dry shade and only grows about a foot tall. I added several more to my dry shady beds.

Rudbeckia fulgida seedlings growing in the middle of other plants were transplanted into better spots. The rudbeckia were quite peeved to have been moved but the other plants were thrilled.   

This seedling was so happy I decided to just design around it 
and let it stay in its spot.

Beds have been redesigned and photos marked to identify new plants. 

The 'Rozanne' geraniums have been blooming since spring.

Hundreds of pounds of compost has been lugged into the garden to amend soil that was weeded and mulched. 

(When I added this photo, Google/Blogger spontaneously added the frame and softened the edges.)

Spending every spare minute outside allowed me the pleasure of watching monarchs migrate through my garden.

The rain garden has been extended and more rocks lifted, heaved, and hauled. 

There are almost 1,000 lbs of rocks in this river bed but they weren't hauled all at once. 
Creating the rain garden was a two year project.

Any theatrical production in my garden would have to be a comedy.

 In the southeast, California poppy seeds grow well when seeded in the fall. I mixed these all together and scattered them over my front butterfly garden.

Seeds were saved, shared, and sown.

35 fragrant peony tulips were planted in pots near my back door, including Creme Upstar, pictured above. 120 tulips were planted in empty spots in my container garden. 

150  bulbs have been planted

Every time I opened the gate, it dug into the soil and the dogs would turn the divots into big holes. So I dug up the grass, laid flagstones, and planted Corsican mint between the stones.

Problem areas were fixed with old flagstones. 

Homegrown carrots ended up in a homemade cake and 

a plate of cookies was exchanged for permission to prune a neighbor's tree.

My neighbors ash tree shaded this bed too much and the 'Bluebird' asters grew weird from lack of sunlight. Too much shade caused weak, spiky growth. 

Holes dug by the dogs were filled and filled, and filled. When they redug them, I refilled them so they dug them again so I refilled them....

Baby - Not guilty

Lucy - Guilty

Scout - Guilty and trying to hide from the evidence.

Genie - Very Guilty

I know how you feel, frog.

*****

This is my last post for 2014 but I'll be back January 1, 2015.

The Bad Bad Thing

I did a bad bad thing and I'm not sorry. I did it on purpose, an impulse that felt so right despite being absolutely wrong. You could say I was seduced but I think not. I chose to be bad.

I planted mint straight into the garden.

I slipped it into a sweet spot at the base of the white balloon flowers and didn't look back. I have no regrets. It will thrive and mingle, slyly caressing the petals and leaves of the surrounding plants but offering its true heart only to the bees.

 A few quick tugs will keep that Romeo in place and I'll just wink as I walk by.