Knowing about 10 % of what I believed I knew about plants and gardening, I planted a seedling peach tree the year we moved to this house, in 1996. This poor tree is in a shady spot (Is there any other kind of spot on this property?) The ground there is low and moist most of the year but extremely sandy, so devoid of nutrients that the woods stop about where I planted the tree and there is a natural low ¼ acre saucer of bare ground totally buried in many years of leaves.

It grew, but even after it was too tall for me to prune, the spindly skinny trunk and branches only produced 1 or 2 peaches a year and they fell off before they were bigger than a walnut.. Still, I let the tree live on, because it was a learning experience in many ways (those dappled sunny spots did not mean full sun, soil test first always, sand, moisture and leaves do not a good soil make, husbands are always on the watch for good parking spaces that are generally where you would plant things).

A few months ago I looked at the tree and saw 1 peach, which I knew would very soon drop off. I made the decision to cut the tree down this year, and then forgot it. While I was blissfully unaware, that tall spindly tree did this.

　

The left half of the tree is dead. Just one branch is alive and it has bent graciously nearly to the ground (under the weight of 40, yes 40 peaches).

This has been the hottest, driest summer I can remember. Many plants have gone dormant, including the whole lawn. 

Here's the best dandelion recipe I've ever tried! Made it tonight in fact. (see picture above.) It tastes heavenly!

http://www.rebeccawood.com/food-as-medicine/dandelion-greens/

Dandelion Greens
Brush away the protective blanket of last year’s foliage and a scant layer of soil to expose dandelion crowns. Don’t bother gathering from plants that have gone to flower. Here’s why: as the energy moves up to the blossom, the greens becomes quite bitter and require blanching to be toothsome.
The flowers, however, may be used to make wine or Honey-Preserved Blossom Spread (see below). Please note: do not gather dandelions from lawns, public trails, roadsides or any chemically-tainted area.
Back home with the goods, I pick over my haul and discard extraneous leaves and grasses. I’ll sauté the crowns (and leaves) with an onion and garlic and season with a pinch of sea salt and few grinds of fresh pepper.

Spring! March, 2011. It's tough. I've been wallowing in what ifs and watching my daffodils turn brown before they were even supposed to be blooming. Add to that the fact that today I mis-identified a pretty little seedling tree, and pulled it with my bare hands, brought it in to look online for the proper name.

Given the way things are not as they have always been, this will be the first time in my life that I had an allergic reaction to poison ivy. I hope not.

The one thing that seems constant in this Spring of change, is the prolific dandelion crop. So it's time for dandelion soup and dandelion tea. Recipies to come!

Road Rescue, and Coveted Cuttings

My diningroom and kitchen are perfumed tonight in the best way possible, by 2 hyacinths someone broke off and left to wilt in the middle of the road. I brought them home and added the last blossom from my Easter Lily, placed in a drinking glass.
Along with them now are cuttings that arrived in a package today, from a gardening friend (from Dave's Garden, you can Google it by that name).
After searching for several years, I found the name of this mysterious memory from my years growing up in Buchanan, Michigan, and found a person who owned it and was willing to share!
It was a plant that seemed to take over the whole livingroom. It had long snaking limbs that wrapped round and round the aquariums and their stand. It grew so fast we could almost measure the new length from day to day. I think mom may have gotten a cutting from her mom, Grandmother Lynch, because I saw the same plant growing in Grandmother's front window when I was a young adult. (I called her "Grandmother Lynch" with capital letters all my life.
The day Ruby was born,



I realised I didn't want to be called "Grandmother Adams". I wanted to be gramma - no caps, or grammie, or whatever Ruby decided to call me. So now "gramma" is what pops out of my mouth and I have to make a conscious decision to think "Grandmother". I end up thinking it in a deep sepulcher voice even though my gramma (big grin) didn't care what we called her. The cousins all called her granny. I think mom insisted on the respectful title.
Oops. Back to the topic - the plant that swallowed our livingroom.
Callisia Fragrans or Basket Plant.
The cuttings I received are beautiful and in perfect, fresh cut condition!
It was like opening the door to my mom, when I opened the box! I haven't seen that plant since she got alzheimers and all her plants died. I could almost smell the freshness of her airy country house and hear her chatty voice again.

I've wanted it for years and can't wait to see it taking over my diningroom!


Oh, by the way, if you Google search for "Large Callisia Fragrans", about page 9 of your results you'll find a picture of me.

I was....uh...surprised by that! Then I realised it's probably my profile pic from Dave's Garden, stored in eternal Google memory, because I searched for the plant there for such a long time. A bit scary, that!

Lessons Learned (the hard way)

Spring's Sprung!!!

First day in my garden! So many plants are up and healthy and vigorous.
Oregano! Tarragon! Mint!

Funny thing about the mint. I "confined" it last year, after a lesson learned the hard way. Mint doesn't just spread. It runs merry marathons underground until it is as far away as the other end of the garden. There, underneath the flowers, it stealthily pushes up stems and green leaves and then runs some more. Soon there is mint everywhere you look. Everywhere. A delight to have if all you want is patchy bits of mint throughout your garden. Not what I wanted.

So last spring, I crawled on hands and knees over the whole garden, pulled every bit I could see and put it all in a boxed bed - a repurposed construction the Larry had intended to use in another project. The "box" is bottomless but buried deep enough to prevent root spread. It worked! The funniest thing is that the mint did what mints do, and scurried along under the soil until it ran into that barrier. Then it scurried along the perimeter of the barrier. Round and round it goes, and since the barrier doesn't end, the mint keeps going, but only right up against the barrier!

I might have to plant something in the middle!

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That was last year's lesson learned. There were more lessons this year. Last year I succeeded in getting Queen Anne's Lace to survive transplanting to the end of my garden, where I thought I wanted wildflowers.

I LOVE Queen Anne's Lace. I DO! It isn't a native plant and IS invasive, but has a lot of uses. I'm known for walking along a quiet, little used "Robinson-tucky" dirt drive and gathering the flowers. First I debug them if necessary, and then I pop the flower in my mouth and it's lunch on the go! They taste resinous and tangy, and not at all like a food. But they leave your breath fresh for quite awhile; and I'm not dead yet.

They also make lovely pressed flowers for crafts - pretty lacy doilies to glue in your scrapbooks and never look at again until you see them crumbling out of the book. I'd rather eat them.

What Queen Anne's Lace does best is procreate; everywhere. For a year or so you think it didn't survive and then one spring your garden is covered with ferny looking shag carpet.

So, I pulled a bushel basket full today.

Do I learn from these experiences? Apparently not.

Wild White Yarrow



Goldenrod

These and several other invasive plants (all of which I purposefully transplanted to my "wildflower bed") added a little color to my fingernails, though I am not deluded into thinking I have the invasion vanquished.

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There are other "invasive" plants, however, that I was thrilled today to see chugging along slowly in their little corners.

Sweet Woodruff.

I don't have the lush thick growth I see in catalogs but I like how it spread out all piecey and scattered. It more or less scatters over 20 or so feet.

Hops

I first met hops climbing up through the scrubby trees at a campground, where we lived for almost 5 months waiting for our house to be finished. I tried unsuccessfully to get it to grow from cuttings. Finally I bought a plant and accidentally planted it in it's perfect environment. Right now it nearly covers the ground, but soon it will nearly cover the garden swing and a small arbor next to the native Witch hazel. Hops is native, as is Witch Hazel.

Wild Ginger

I bought one plant at Gene Stratton Porter's Wildflower Woods near Rome City, Indiana. http://www.genestratton-porter.com/WildflowerWoods.html

Porter was my mother's favorite childhood author and mom passed that love on to me. How cool is it that "Freckles" (my all time favorite book) was there ready for me to read over and over until I nearly have the book memorised - during the growing up years when mom used every opportunity to teach me (instead of "you can't do ____, because..."), "See? Look what you CAN do, because...". Gene Stratton Porter never met me, but she was there, in person, in that book. And she still is, and she never tires of saying, "You can do anything."

Here, at the Limberlost Porter Memorial in Geneva, Indiana, I was given a small cutting from a variety of house plant that grew in this window, when G.S. Porter lived there.

I have that plant still.

I have known, and forgotten, its name. It doesn't care what I call it. It just sits there contented, 6 feet up, and just about to touch the cathedral ceiling.

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But I digress.

Back to the garden. It was refreshing to see the Azalea blooming so well this year.

I thought I had lost it last year.

Just above the Azalea, in my "fountain" planter on the deck,

chives and sage are in fine form. Moss too. Yeah, I put the moss there last year. There was a bare spot. Well, at least the moss is native!

In the bottom "fountain" planter, the thyme isn't looking good. I hope it perks up, but if not I'll replace it.

This Aronia was new last fall,

and I kept it in the pot because it was so attractive in that bare corner next to the garage with the purple berries covering each branch. Now it's ready to bloom and so healthy! I'll plant it out as soon as I research where it will grow best.

Any suggestions?

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Just as I was getting chilled enough to go back in the house, I walked past the old relic -

That carved bear.

Larry won him at an auction in his hometown at Brush Valley Days.

Yes, we treated him just the way we were told to do. But that was 15 years ago, and like us, he has aged a lot. If you look really closely, you can tell he was a bear even though his nose and feet are gone. He frightened young children when he was new, but now he has nearly become the log he was made from again. I like him better the way he looks now.

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Now for a fitting way to end the morning .......a cup of hot tea, a sunny window, a wooden rocking chair, and a very old brittle copy of "Freckles".

Done

It feels really strange sitting here inside today. The house is dark. The place in front of the livingroom window where the Willow bed was, is flat and seeded with new grass (thanks to Carrie). I find that I can sit there now and look out, maybe at the lilacs way down in front, or the evergreens, and not ache over the new bed I'd planted. Out of sight out of mind I guess. As long as the picture isn't there in front of me, I don't hold the look of it in my mind anymore. That's why I deleted it today from my blog. The herb garden is done and redone to leave truck room, with no harm to anything, and it looks fine. The East "scent" garden received the bits and pieces from the willow bed, and my birthday rose bush ,Firefighter.

Larry chose it and it IS beautiful.

So, that garden is done now because I refuse to add more to it while the chance is there that I'll have to move things for access to cut down trees. The bog garden is done and is ok. Not as lush and pretty as I had in mind, but things don't grow as fast as imaginations. The trampled Joe Pye hasn't made new leaves as I thought it might, so I'll get another one. The pump is not working much anymore (we are actually under fire hazard here believe it or not, because of LACK of rain!) so I need to add water every day, but not much.I've lost heart for the borders around the house. They're weeded already and will need watered but I'm not going to change anything like I'd planned. The hosta give me no clue why they are so small anyway, so moving or changing their bed would have been guesswork.The Hemlock garden is done, with the additions of the poor fated willow and of all the Ash trees I found, now tucked in where they'll be safe (edit: Where they had BETTER be safe!)I deleted the responsibility of woods all around us from my to do list and garden notebook, the day of the Willow moving. At first, in anger, and then later with the wisdom to see that *I* had planned it all and yet 1 more time, without considering Larry. I am fully aware that his idea for those areas will be to cut down all the dead or dying or look like they might be, and all the little trees. I also realise, though will still be upset if/when it happens, that he will not remember that I have planted other gardens except the herb garden. And sooner or later he may see a plant that is done blooming and think it's junk and it'll be gone. Today I guess I'll clean the deck a little and water the plants there and in the house.I feel so tired and so discouraged that I will probably put the gardening notebook away in the cabinet for the year.