Each Little World

Lowering maintenance: Hostas

Last autumn I made an effort to pay attention to my Hostas. I wanted to see which ones still looked good after some chilly weather and which ones faded early. That's something I did not pay much attention to in the past, but this year it hit home.

My garden has a lot of Hostas, as do many midwestern gardens. I've always considered them an attractive, low maintenance plant. But I am beginning to think I've been blind to how much work they really entail. 

When they first emerge, I always put grit around them as a slug preventative. It's quite effective but it also means a trip to a stone yard, filling multiple buckets with grit, getting that back home and storing it somewhere dry and accessible. (Mid-May photo above)

Then I start schlepping as heavy a bucket around the garden as I can carry, spreading the grit around each and every emerging Hosta. So I've done all that work and the plants are only up enough for me to see exactly where and how much grit I need to put down.  (Mid-July photos above and below)

Neither Mark nor I are big fans of most Hosta flowers, so I tend to cut off the flower stems rather than let them bloom. There is no quick and easy way to trim the flower stems. It feels like an endless job given the number of plants I have and the varied bloom times. You might suggest I give up this crazy behavior, but I know I am not going to change.

Here's the Tea House slope on October 26th (directly above and the two below). The brown foliage is dying Hosta leaves. But get a look at H. 'Touch of Class' (center below). That variety still thinks it's summer. Clearly one to remember and worth dividing and spreading. 

But this is where it gets confusing. H. 'Spritzer,' next to the Tea House is mostly brown while the clump at the foot of the slope is still quite green. That means that I am cutting back dying Hosta foliage for much of the autumn as each variety finally dies for the season — another time-consuming Hosta chore.

Here are the Hostas pictured in the top image, showing how they look on Oct. 18th (below).

Some are perfect, some are fading and one has given up the ghost. This group of Hosta are right out at the street and take a beating from snow, sand and salt. Winter doesn't bother them. But the sun and sandy dryness do. I think they should go, but I haven't figured out what other plants could take the winter and provide the dramatic foliage that Hostas do. 

There are a number of Hostas I will probably pass on to gardening friends in the coming season. Among the ones that will definitely stay are 'Guacamole', 'Sagae', 'Inniswood', 'Whirlwind' and 'Touch of Class.' Though I have a lot of Hosta varieties, to say nothing of the total number of plants, I still think Hostas are on their way to becoming one plant that will be less prominent in my garden in the future. 

Not quite wordless Wednesday

I could not resist capturing an image of the twisted limb on this fruit tree that I saw on one of last summer's WHPS garden tours.  Can't wait until some green starts showing on the trees in my garden.

A vase on Monday — and its neighbors

I have not posted any flower-filled vases for a long time and I expect it will be almost a month before I hope to see anything growing in my garden. That doesn't mean the house is devoid of growing plants. I have a pair of pale pink Orchids on the bathroom vanity, a holiday Cyclamen by my reading chair and a Boston fern with fronds that are almost touching the floor near Mark's nook. 

But I have always been a fan of vases that make a statement even when they are not holding a bouquet. This is a ceramic piece, about 10 inches tall, that I bought when my favorite consignment shop was closing last autumn. That green glaze with a hint of slate blue has long been a favorite of mine. Plus I liked the way the unglazed area swooped around the sides like long wings.

When I bought this vase I knew right where I was going to put it — and it wasn't in storage. Its color beautifully echoes the glaze on my antique Chinese headrest. 

The headrest itself has been the perfect spot to display this bejeweled evening bag — a bouquet that never needs watering. 

Cold weather protection

Mark took this shot out the kitchen window last  night. I am not going to complain about the snow since we are in for cold spell. I am counting on that nice warm blanket to protect the garden. I have had significant garden losses the last two winters when we had extreme cold with little or no snow, so I hoping this does the trick. And does it without breaking any tree or shrub branches in the process! The Korean maples retain their leaves all winter and you can see how it is bowed down under the weight of the snow. 

Another dose of winter

After our record six-inch snowfall on February 9th, our weather has been cold but mostly dry. The forecast for today was snow flurries, which pretty much means a few flakes flying through the air but not much landing and sticking to the ground. Wrong. 

It's been snowing all day These photos were all shot through windows, so they are not the best quality. But they give you a pretty good idea of what the garden looks like this afternoon. 

A few garden features that were visible this morning are now buried. Most of the animal tracks in the garden have all disappeared as well.

Maintenance

My big — my only — garden project this year centers on reducing maintenance in the garden. I want to be able to garden as long as possible, but aging is starting to affect my energy and strength.

It's time to re-think and re-design some areas of the garden. But exactly how and what to do are difficult to determine when you read what the experts say about garden maintenance. 

"Design is crucial, but it is maintenance

that makes a garden legendary."

– The Devoted Classicist blog

. . .

"A Border needs fine tuning for close viewing."

— Noel Kingsbury

. . .

"Take on only what you can maintain at the highest level and make it gorgeous and keep it that way."

— Lynden Miller

. . .

Flower Factory Forever

First it was Roslyn Nursery, then Heronswood, then Seneca Hill Perennials — poof! Here for years and then suddenly gone. I still have plants from all of those memorable nurseries. But they were "paper" places; I read their catalogs but never shopped in person at any of them.

They were coastal destinations, not friends and neighbors like Nancy and David Nedveck, hands-on owners of The Flower Factory, down the road from Madison. You run into them at local garden events as here at Olbrich Botanical Gardens before we all went inside for a talk by Fergus Garrett of Great Dixter in the UK. 

The first plants that I bought for my very first garden, a rather simple affair located behind my apartment, were from the Flower Factory at Madison's original downtown Farmers Market. To a new gardener, stopping there was a weekly slice of heaven. These days I can't remember the last time I went downtown on a Saturday morning and socialized with David; now I always drive out to the nursery so I can bring home a heavy haul.

I usually go out to the nursery a couple of times a season. I always sit a minute in my car anticipating what fun I am going to have shopping here. 

Then I meander along the incredible flower border running the length of the adjacent hoop house. 

Next I turn around and walk over to take a closer look at the plantings across the parking lot. Just a glance at those bright pink Dianthus carthusianorum told me why mine are not as happy as these. Mine are in soil that's too rich and moist: A garden lesson learned and I haven't even left the parking lot! Hasn't that always been one of the benefits of buying locally? We can learn just by looking, let alone consulting Nancy or David and their staff. 

This little green-roofed building always makes me smile. 

I save the Hosta houses until last. That way I don't bang up those big leaves while I shop. 

I peek in but don't stop. (photo below from April, 2010)

If the weather looks threatening, I wear my hooded rain jacket leaving the umbrellas for those who need them! I usually look like a gardener when I go to FF: boots, jeans and an old T-shirt, gloves, a hat. Now and then people have asked me for help because I looked like I must work there.  

Most of these photos are from 2016/17 and don't begin to show the kinds of container plantings and inspirational displays that abound at Flower Factory these days. I've been seduced more than once by plants that were unfamiliar or just so beautifully grouped into a display that I had to take some home with me. 

Even though I always bring my FF catalog and have a specific plant shopping list in hand, I don't think I have ever managed to get away without at least one impulse buy. 

I started filling an index card with relevant information (including source) for each plant I purchase beginning in the late 1980s and still do so. Thus I know I bought my first Japanese painted fern at FF in 1989; my first Toad lilies in 1996 and Geranium macrrohrizum in 1998. These are stalwarts in my garden.

More recently I started taking a photo of my plant purchases before I leave the Flower Factory or as soon as I get home. It's a great visual record of what I bought when.

These wagon loads are from early spring, 2010.

August, 2016

August, 2017

June, 2019

September, 2019

I would not be the gardener I am nor have the garden I do if not for Nancy and David. The incredible variety of plants they offer each year (2,500 in 2019) is only one small part of what they've given us. On-the-spot plant identification and advice no matter when or where I run into them. Presentations to garden groups large and small. Their catalog has a page of general gardening information in the back and they provide an entire alphabet list of uses for their perennials ranging from drought and salt tolerance to plants that like it wet or are fragrant and on and on. 

In my gardening heart-of-hearts, I've known that one of these days David and Nancy would retire. Why wouldn't they? Lots of us did it years ago, which is why we have all this time to garden. Running a nursery on the scale and complexity of Flower Factory is a job that never stops and rarely slows down. It is a business that is subject to the vagaries of weather and the whims of the gardening world. Those of us who live in Dane Country and the Upper Midwest have been luckier than most American gardeners to have such a rich source of plants and pleasant nursery folks right on our doorstep. Best wishes to David and Nancy as they take this next step on their journey.

Snow stripes

You don't have to check the weather forecast when snow is on the way. The fact a storm was coming was obvious to me the minute I pulled out of my driveway yesterday. I took this shot of our street through my car window.

Those white stripes you see are a salt brine — a saltwater solution of 23.3 percent salt, according to Madison Streets Division spokesman Bryan Johnson in a local news story. It is put on major streets before a snowstorm if temperatures are high enough to make it effective.

When it is sprayed on before the snow hits, it keeps the snow from bonding with the pavement, so it's easier to scrape off when the plows come through. Our street looks rather rural with the tree canopy, but it is an emergency vehicle route which I assume is one reason why they spray it.

It started snowing some time during the early morning hours and has been pretty steady all morning. I love the pair of snow stripes the weather has created on the bridge that crosses our dry stream. 

Lake Forest: An estate garden

I was one of a busload of gardeners from the Wisconsin Hardy Plant Society who visited this estate garden last summer on a very hot, very sunny day. I am including a few images you've already seen of the entrance courtyard and the Japanese Tea House to put the entire property in context.

Our bus dropped us off at the street end of this expansive driveway. We turned left at the garage  . . .

and walked along a covered portico to enter the garden. That sliding shoji-style door on the right was a restroom that the hosts opened for us. You can imagine how thankful and surprised we were at this unexpected gesture. 

We continued along the wooden walkway, getting enticing glimpses of what awaited us.

We turned left at the end of the walkway where it skirted the house before opening into the garden. 

This large piece of sculptural wood marked the corner. 

This was the view as we left the covered walkway.

This stream was on the other side of the shrubs that edged the walkway. 

It curved out into this water feature. 

You could walk up this slope using the rocks as stepping stones between these beautiful swaths of weeping Blue Spruce. 

The folks walking through this shady spot give you a sense of the size of this specimen rock. 

A cloudy and misty day must make these lichens glow. 

This garden was big enough to include large sculptures and to let you enjoy them in long views as well as close-up. 

The Tea House was in this woodsy area on the far side of the garden from the house as well. 

This is the view along the side of the house and garage where we entered the garden — but looking in the opposite direction. 

This little path took you to the back side of the water feature. 

Both ends of this long walkway had unusual natural sculptures.

A beautiful garden, beautifully maintained. 

Lake Forest: The Tea House

Since we have a Japanese-style Tea House in our garden, I was quite excited when I looked across this Illinois garden last summer on our WHPS tour and saw a familiar structure nestled in the trees. 

Like our Tea House, it was stucco. 

I was quite taken with this narrow "veranda" and the beautiful textiles blowing in the breeze.

Flowers and a scroll in the Tokonoma, a display area in a Tea House. 

Every detail in this little building was beautifully done. 

It is not often that one visits a private garden with its own Tea House. I was excited to have the chance to see it up close; definitely impressive. I went home very happy with our Tea House which is a more rustic style but equally impressive, if I do say so myself.