Each Little World

The last Tulips

I planted a mix of Tulips under our weeping Beech (Fagus sylvatica 'Purple Fountain') to complement its emerging spring foliage.

They are planted among Astilbes whose early foliage is bronze-purple. I hoped that might confuse the rabbits, but the Tulips came up much faster than the Astilbes. Thus I caged the flowers as they came up to protect them from our marauding rabbits.

The Tulips are 'James Wild', 'Madras' (below), and 'Prinses Irene' (bottom).

I decided it would be too hard to fit the cages back over the Tulips and into the Astilbe foliage if I took them off for the pictures. Wrong decision. New rule: Always remove cages before snapping a photo.

Wednesday vignette

A random geometric pattern of light coming through the fence and dark polka dots where critters have been looking for bugs. 

 

Everything's just ducky

Our number one harbinger of Spring, the arrival of our pair of Mallard ducks — Fred and Ethel — took place on Saturday for the 21st year in a row — one week earlier than last year.

Garden visitor

The fox has been absent and the ducks have not made an appearance yet. But we had an unexpected visitor yesterday. He must have seen all that open water and decided to take a closer look. 

He stayed in that same spot for almost half an hour, sometimes splashing about but mostly flicking his glance from side to side constantly scanning for danger. He was the bright spot in a cool, gray day. We've had Cooper's Hawks in the garden in the past but I believe this one is a Sharp-shinned Hawk.

Mid-march mess in the garden

Last Thursday afternoon it was 60°F. (15.55° C.) and pouring rain. I went out on the deck and attempted a shot, but decided that trying to capture rain against snow is above my skill level.

I took these pictures the next day when the temperature was 35°F. (1.66° C.) at noon. It was cloudy, starting to lightly snow and the wind definitely made it feel more like winter than spring.

I was able to see where the main paths in the back garden are and decided to reconnoiter. The snow was slowly sinking and a few spots were bare; but not as much open ground as I expected. The rain coming off the roof of the Tea House has worn a trench into the ground.

This is the area I call the Sacred Grove and is flat and south-facing. I really expected to see some snowdrops up here but no such luck. That's a half-buried bag of leaf mulch on the left that I never finished spreading on the garden last fall. So it will be used this spring instead. 

Across the path, things look pretty much the same. 

All the evergreens — including my new variegated Boxwood — appear to have survived.

The difference in color of the needles on this Pinus cembra (Swiss stone pine) is an indication to me of how deep the snow was in this area. It suggests the snow covered the second layer of branches. 

The rocks that are beginning to reappear are covered in lichens. That's Epimedium 'Domino' which I had to cage after critters started munching on it in early spring last year. 

The snow was very crusty though not thick enough to support my weight. It was thick enough, however, that I had to stamp my foot down to break through it as I made my way around. It was awkward and slow-going. 

First snowdrops for real

When a friend posted last week that snowdrops had made an appearance in her garden across town, I thought I better start watching the location where mine appear first: right outside the library window on the south side of the house. And sure enough Friday morning, there they were. Just one clump was visible (in the lower left) pushing through the ice-crusted snow and the detritus from the Chamaecyparis that the rabbits munched on all winter under that thick white blanket. I took this shot through the window from indoors. 

I ventured outside a bit later in the day to look at the snowdrops' progress from the other direction. Despite the chilly temperature — 35° at noon — they are valiantly trying to open their flowers. Alas, they are not quite up enough to cut for a vase. With unseasonably warm weather forecast for this week, it is possible I will be able to have a vase next Monday.

If you look closely you can see all the branches bitten off with the tell-tale rabbit sign— an angled cut. And there's that pile of rabbit pellets in case anyone was unsure of the cause of the damage. 

Having watched Carol Klein tour Bressingham Gardens on the BBC recently, I noted how many of their conifers are pruned up to reveal bark and allow underplanting of bulbs and perennials. I guess my pruning has been done for me. I just need to do a little neatening up and spread out my snowdrops a la Bressingham and this bed is good to go! To see what other gardeners have put in a vase today, visit Cathy at Rambling in the Garden who hosts this marvelous Monday meme!

The voice of experience

I recently bought a second-hand book called "The Making of a Garden Gertrude Jekyll" which is an anthology composed of Jerkyll's writings and photographs as well as paintings of gardens from the same era. I well know of Jekyll but have never read any of her books, so I am greatly enjoying this broad view of her garden philosophy.

PHOTO: GERTRUDE JEKYLL'S HOUSE & GARDEN AT MUNSTEAD WOOD

But I had to laugh when I came upon the quote below and realized that all gardeners — whether working then or now, famous and not — are all dealing with the same issues:

"Of bird, beasts and insect pests we have plenty. First, and worst, are rabbits. They will gnaw and nibble anything and everything that is newly planted . . . The necessity of wiring everything newly planted adds greatly to the labour and expense of the garden, and the unsightly grey wire netting is an unpleasant eyesore. When plants or bushes are well-established the rabbits leave them alone, though some families of plants are always irresistible — pinks and carnations, for instance, and nearly all cruciferae, such as wallflowers, stocks and Iberis. The only plants I know that they do not touch are rhododendrons and azaleas; they leave them for the hare, that is sure to get in every now and then, and who stands up on his hind-legs and will eat rose bushes quite high up."

The above shrub is Hamamelis vernalis 'Quasimodo,' a natural dwarf Witch Hazel. I got this in 2016 from Rare Finds Nursery in N.J. They offer many of their shrubs in different sizes and since this is a dwarf, I splurged on a large plant. I was thrilled when it arrived as it made a nice little statement in the garden from the get-go. It never occurred to me to cage it as I have large Witch Hazels elsewhere in the garden that were never caged and never touched by any browsing critters. Alas, the bunnies ate most of Quasimodo that first winter. So it's lived in a cage ever since and is just now really taking off and getting larger than it was when it arrived. Eventually it will be 3-4 feet high and wide. I hate the way it looks caged but I hate the way it looks chewed up more. 

On the other hand, sometimes the bunnies do a nice job of winter pruning. This Fothergilla gardenii is almost 20 years old. Some years we cage it and some years we don't. It has a beautiful shape and size which we attribute to periodic bunny attacks. It is old enough and hardy enough that it comes back if it gets munched on. Since it is directly in our view from indoors year round, I really would rather not look at a cage all winter.

But the garden is full of cages at the moment even though I removed many of them before our recent tours. They'll go back on soon, while it is still lovely out and I won't mind spending an afternoon dealing with tightly rolled up lengths of wire. Things like my dwarf Ginkgos are at their mature size now that they are a dozen years old. No way will I chance someone deciding to munch on them this winter. But some folks clearly enjoy the idea of rabbits roaming free in the garden.

PHOTO: UNKNOWN PINTEREST SOURCE

Thanks

Thanks for all the recent comments about my Monday vases and the ducklings visit to the garden. We are having a few beautiful days that are perfect for gardening. The weather forecast says those will be followed by a few days of rain. I spent Monday digging out a large area of Vinca and re-designing and  re-planting the space. Today I'm going plant shopping with a gardening friend so I will be away from the computer again, if you are wondering why you aren't hearing from me. 

. . .

Many of you commented on the ducklings so I thought I would just mention that they stayed in the garden most of the afternoon which was a lovely treat. We did not seem them leave but a neighbor mentioned that she saw them waddling down the street. We live on a fairly busy street and not far from the corner of an extremely busy road. But last time we had ducklings for a visit they left the same way: following mom down the street. Exactly where they go from our garden is anyone's guess.

The one thing I can say for sure is that Ethel only brings them once. At least that is our experience from the two prior times she brought her little fledglings. Though we were still both working in those days, so maybe they all came back and we missed the return visit because we weren't home.

Here is a prior duckling post with much better photos.

A perfect weekend: Part ll

On cold, rainy and rather miserable days we often see Fred and Ethel splashing about in the pond, but they disappeared from the garden during the recent hot spell. So we were glad to see them here again on Friday. Mark was off doing Saturday errands this afternoon when I looked out the window and saw Ethel standing on the round stone at the edge of the pond. When I glanced out again a few minutes later I couldn't see her but there were a bunch of little birds wobbling around the pebble beach that edges the pond. As I stood at the window watching them, I suddenly realized they weren't birds — they were ducklings!

In the twenty years the ducks have been coming to our pond, this is only the third time that Ethel's brought the ducklings. We don't have enough secure cover for them to actually nest here.

Luckily Mark arrived home in time to take a few pictures. The minute he walked out the door Ethel and the kids started swimming away from him. 

This morning the pond was almost completely covered with seeds from the surrounding trees. Turns out the ducklings and even Ethel are almost impossible to see swimming amidst the gold and green and brown dappled surface of the water. 

They swam to the farthest edge of the pond from Mark and went into the Irises behind the big rocks that are in the water. Once Ethel decided it was safe, she let the kids come out into view again.

All ten of them were practicing their swimming technique while she watched.

Then she rounded them up and they all went to the back edge of the pond for a nap.

The ducklings must all be underneath her because they aren't in the water and they didn't leave the garden. Another perfect afternoon in the garden.

Happy Anniversary, kids!

Today marks the twenty-first year that our pair of Mallard ducks — Fred and Ethel — have made a springtime appearance in our garden. This is also the latest date by a week since I began tracking their initial arrival in 1998. When the first snowdrops appear, when ice melts and our pond is fully open, and when the kids arrive for their annual visit are the three events that I maintain phenological records about. 

If you are unfamiliar with the term "phenology," it's the branch of science that studies natural events that recur periodically in relation to seasonal and climate change. I keep copious notes in handwritten journals but these are just dates written on index cards under the appropriate title, such as "Fred & Ethel." They're my personal nod to garden history, local climate change and Aldo Leopold. 

The lifespan of a Mallard is 5-10 years in the wild but they can live to twenty. Whether this is really our original pair of ducks is anybody's guess. We would have had to band them or id them in some way if we really wanted to know exactly who visits the pond each year. Frankly, we don't really care. They are the perfect pet since they don't require anything of us except to enjoy their antics. Mark shot these photos through the living room windows where we also noticed our squirrel with white-tipped ears had stopped in as well.