Rain at last!

All fingers and toes are crossed in the hopes that the forecast is correct -- two days of rain, perhaps as much as two inches; it's already drizzling out there. It's been a tough season for lining out daylilies; they get dug out of dusty, dry soil, and I wince for them as I pull them out of the ground. A nice soak before they're replanted helps, and of course good watering-in, but in spite of my "tough-love" beliefs, I've been watering them regularly after that as well.

Once again I can be grateful for a good supply of mulch; put on top of the new plantings, it helps to hold in the moisture and delay the drying effects of wind and weather. Next year's new raspberry row is being prepped as well with sheets of newspapers topped with thick mulch, so that weeds will be discouraged and digging will be easier next spring when we're ready to plant.



New daylily additions have been planted in the last two weeks: Persian Pattern (above), Colorful Summer, Neal Berrey, Martha Custis, Shishedo, Rose Emily, Byzantine Emperor, South Seas, Dublin Elaine (at top of post), Cherokee Heritage, Victoria Grace, Ruffled Apricot. Three of the older cultivars have produced proliferations -- tiny little clone plants located on blossom stems -- and so I am attempting to root them in the greenhouse.

It's Almost Over (well, not really ...)

The end of the growing season always elicits mixed feelings here, both for me, and I think I can safely say for my daughter-in-law as well; she too grows lots of veggies and fruits, and does some canning; we both fill our freezers with produce, soups, sauces, and pesto.
Residing in an area with the shortest growing season in the continental US, we find it hard to imagine living in, say, Florida and having to maintain this level of work for weeks and months longer. Knowing that our first serious frost will likely hit sometime in the next week or two is a relief, in a way.
And then, the cleanup. All the trellising that supported peas, green beans, tomatoes must be taken down; two or three dozen 6-foot-tall metal T-stakes have to be pulled and stored away. Pole bean vines have entwined themselves around the tepees so firmly that they’ll need to be cut away, and the poles stored. There’s row cover here and there, metal hoops, irrigation T-tape, wooden stakes, the assorted flotsam and jetsam of the growing beds to be cleared. A few rows have black plastic that needs to be taken up. The browned, dried remains of all those corn, cucumber, tomato and squash plants will go into the field compost pile, along with the mounds of weeds we’ve been pulling.
Kale, broccoli, carrots and lettuce can stay in the field for awhile longer; light frosts won’t bother them, and will actually sweeten the kale. Once there’s a row that’s been cleaned, composted, and tilled, next year’s garlic will be planted and mulched. And we’ll see how long we can keep the greenhouse tomatoes and peppers going – it would help if the broken door was replaced!
Ideally, we’ll be spreading lime and some other soil amendments this fall; ideally, I’ll be tilling and sowing some winter rye. But we’ll see. Weariness outweighs motivation at this time of year, and it’s soooo tempting to just put things off until spring. But despite thinking that this season was not so great, with the heat and dryness, I find that the freezer is indeed full again and there’s much to be thankful for.
Yet I haven’t even mentioned prepping the daylilies, the perennial beds, or the potted plants for winter! That’s another post for later.
Meanwhile, thoughts turn to quilting and knitting ...

Garden Design on a Dime

Spring and fall are the seasons for dividing and transplanting, making changes in the garden. I’ve got a big, long list of what to move where, and have been chipping away at it now that the weather has grown cooler.

But there’s a world of difference between having a knack for growing things, and having a talent for garden design. I’m good at the former, not so great at the latter. Despite studying all those books and magazine articles, even the diagrams in seed catalogs that promise you the “perfect” garden, I’m still missing something.

Sometimes, I think it’s disposable income. The “instant” garden that’s put in by a landscape designer begins with a clean slate, and requires a serious cash infusion (not to mention a small army of workers to make it all happen). Have you seen the price tags on those beautiful flowering specimen trees and bushes? Or figured out how much a lovely winding path of peastone or pavers will cost, from excavation to the finished product?

More often, if you’re like me, we look at what we’ve got already and see what improvements we might be able to make on a limited budget – sometimes so limited that it means just moving things around in the hopes the garden will look better, like rearranging our living room furniture. It also requires being able to foretell the future, having a vision of how big that Echinacea or tickseed is going to be when it matures in two or three years … will it be too large for that spot in the garden? And, let’s face it, there’s more to it than just putting the short things in front and the tall things in back, or having a color "theme."

For years I succumbed to the impulse to purchase a pot of one thing or another that I liked, but since I never could afford more than one or two at a time, my gardens were a jumble. Then we moved, and I inherited perennial beds with great swaths of certain flowers, with repeated plantings at intervals, with tall non-flowering accent plants in the background, and I saw what a difference that made. Still, those gardens were typical straight-edged border beds. Now there are some new beds, curvy-edged; works in progress, they are. I’m still learning. But I think it's looking a little better each year.

Bounty