If it's not hardy, it's not worth it!

Diehard gardeners usually love to encourage others to get their hands in the dirt, hoping they'll see how rewarding it is. And there’s nothing like a successful experience to really bring pleasure. Which is why it breaks my heart a little whenever I hear of a gardening “failure” that could have been avoided … like the folks I know who planted their veggie seedlings out waaaaay too early last spring, and lost them all to frost; or the rose bush planted in such poor soil that it conked out pretty quickly. Heaven knows I’ve made plenty of mistakes myself over the years … or, perhaps I should say, I’ve had plenty of learning experiences.

And so, instead of harping on why you should plant daylilies that are 1) purchased from a grower in or near your climate zone, and/or 2) known to be good performers in your part of the world, here’s a visual aid to illustrate the point.

Several years ago, I ordered several daylilies that I knew were northern-hardy from a southern grower. Along with my order, they included a bonus … one of their newer hybridized introductions, which lists for $75 in their catalog. Wow!, I thought, that’s amazing! -- I figured it would be quite special.

Here we are, three years later. You can see that the daylilies on the left and right have normal-sized foliage for this time of year; and you can see that the ones in the center are small, thin, and grass-like. That is the three-year-old “clump” of the $75 introduction, a Zone 5-inappropriate daylily, bred to live in the South. Oh, it survives here … barely. Last year it threw up only one blossom. If I didn’t know the reason, I would have been tremendously disappointed … and if I had spent $75 for the plant, I would feel even worse.

So buy what will thrive where you live. Spend wisely. Be happy. And have a beautiful garden!

Lovely little blue invaders

Many years ago … back in the distant past … I visited the Green Briar Nature Center at the Thornton Burgess Museum in Sandwich, MA (http://www.thorntonburgess.org/GreenBriarNatureCenter.htm), and was struck by a carpet of blue forget-me-nots (myosotis) that stretched away at great length under a large old spreading tree. Knowing nothing about this flower, I imagined that this particular bed had probably taken many, many years to reach that size. The blue carpet looked so lovely, and I tucked the memory in the back of my mind, hoping to create something similar some day.
Little did I know how quickly these little gems spread! Several years ago I brought one clump home. Now they have multiplied exponentially, literally choking the other plants in four of my garden beds. I still love their beauty in early spring, but during the last week have had to pull two wheelbarrows full for the compost pile, as well as giving away as much as I’ve been able. These photos were taken after the thinning … the poor daylilies needed some room to breathe.

Do you ever get wistful at the start of the school year? Do you remember the excitement of being a kid with a new outfit, a new pencil box, a new teacher? (Okay, maybe I’m dating myself with that pencil box, but you get the idea …)

That’s how I’m feeling right now at the start of Farmers Market season. Having been a market farmer for about five years, and having “retired” from that particular endeavor, I have mixed feelings as I see the opening announcements in the newspapers and the signs on the street. Like most endeavors in life, going to market offered a mixture of pleasure and difficulty; it offered its own little community of growers and vendors, by and large a terrific group of people; and chewed up an enormous amount of time.

Wait a minute, you might be thinking … market lasts for only four or five hours or so, right? Well, that’s how it looks to the customer. But prep begins the night before, with many hours of harvesting, trimming, washing, bunching, weighing, bagging, loading the truck. Starting before dawn on market day, the flowers are cut and made into bouquets, the salad greens, kale, and basil cut, washed, dried, and bagged for maximum freshness. It’s best to arrive at market an hour before opening; there’s the canopy and tables to set up, all the produce to unpack and put out, price tags and bags and scale and cash box (each of which can be forgotten on any given day, resulting in a last-minute scramble). There’s the search for one last cup of coffee before market opens … very important! And then, of course, sending your fresh produce home with happy customers. Seeing the same faces coming back to your booth every week means you’re doing it right.

The aftermath is the hardest part. Bone-tired, you take everything down, repack the truck, and then travel back home; unpack it all, clean out the coolers, put it all away. It’s really more like a twelve-hour day. Lots of market farmers do this twice or three times a week, meaning less time to do the actual farmwork. One farmer friend, who does three markets a week, regularly works in his fields into the night with a headlamp clamped on. More than once, he’s fallen asleep out there.

If market prices sometimes seem higher than the grocery store, don’t for a minute think that your local farmer is getting rich; he or she is likely just getting by, but is offering you the freshest, most delicious and nutritious produce you can find outside of your own garden. One of my favorite bumper stickers says, “Support Your Local Farmer, or Watch the Houses Grow.” Go to market, hit the farmstands, grow your own … it’s all good.

Plant Swap Tonight!

Gardeners seem to be such a generous and open community. It helps that no two gardens are alike, that we are always curious about the blooms behind the fence or around the back of the house, what magical combination of seeds and soil and fertilizer has produced such outstanding lettuce or tomatoes. And when our perennials keep increasing, as they will, we are happy to divide and share.

Here in my little town, there’s an annual “Plant Swap” event that’s eagerly awaited. In early spring, we gardeners gather in the church basement, lugging pots and boxes and various containers holding the surfeit of our spring divisions; the tables will groan under their weight. It’s a little reunion of sorts after a long winter, catching up with one another, making new acquaintances; it’s especially gratifying to see new young homeowners eager to fill out their gardens, and even younger people with a budding interest in growing (pun intended – sorry!).

With great humor in some cases, each person will take their turn offering their plants one at a time – describing the name, color and habit and preferences, if known; once in a while, someone will admit, “I have no idea what this is, but it’s got a pretty flower.” There’s nearly always someone who can identify it. And usually there is more than one person who wants to adopt the plant in question, which requires the use of slips of numbered paper and a hat … this is all prepared ahead of time by the wonderful ladies who put on the event, and results in cries of joy by the winners and a feeling of being at a bingo game.

Me, I’m always looking for the daylilies, of course, but I’ve come home with peonies, daffodils, scented geraniums, Jacob’s ladder; I seem to bring the usual things to give away every year, worried that everyone’s already got them by now, but they’re always happily taken. Then the search is on for some little space in an already-overcrowded garden where the new treasures can be tucked in. Even better, though, is the expanding sense of community that we share, the opportunity to meet new folks and get to know the not-so-new ones a little better.