Each Little World

In a vase on Monday and everyday

Spring is the season when there are more flowers than I can enjoy if I don't bring them inside. Especially this year with the crazy hot weather we had in May, blooms were opening and dying in a matter of a few days. So the house has seen vases coming and going as quickly as something new came into bloom. Here's a sampling of what I've brought indoors from mid-to-late May. 

These little jester's caps are the first stage of the seedheads from Paeonia japonica. 

Love this image where you can see all the details on the ceramics as well as the polychromed Thai "cave monk" figure in the corner and the dark silhouette of the metal advertising figure leaning against the fireplace.

I almost always let my bouquets keep going well after they've lost their good looks. It's Mark's favorite stage!

Now that it's June, one of these days there should be lilies to put in a vase. To see what other gardeners have created in a vase today, visit Cathy at Rambling in the Garden who hosts this magical Monday meme. 

Pure pleasure

I don't think I planned it intentionally but I seem to have a lot of white flowers in the garden as it transitions from May to June. It's nothing like Vita Sackville-West's famous white garden at Sissinghurst, and yet there are little hidden gardens here and there mainly composed of whites — and green, of course.

Malus sargentii 'Tina'

Rhododendron yedoense poukhanense 'Alba'

Convallaria majalis 'Hardwick Hall' with large leaves edged in gold

Trillium grandiflorum a week ago.

You can just glimpse the Trillium still going strong behind this clump of Dodecatheon media. 

The daffs bow out: Narcissus 'Dreamlight'

Gallium odoratum (rear) with Polygonatum humile.

Primula sieboldii with red candelabra Primroses and a Digitalis pushing forward.

Tiarella cordifolia 'Running Tapestry' edging Toad lilies, Cimicifuga, Hosta and a fern.

A great year for Clematis 'Guernsey Cream'

Our neighbor's Kiwi vine has colonized the fence between our gardens.

The Silverbell tree (Halesia tetraptera) has charming blooms which make a spring snowstorm when they fall, a sure sign that June is almost here. 

Controlling lily of the valley

A number of years ago I was smitten with lily of the valley species that had unusual leaves. This version, with its striped leaves, I foolishly planted in the middle of a garden bed. Every year I would dig out a number of clumps to donate to the Wisconsin Hardy Plant sale in the spring. Last fall I attempted to erradicate them from the bed since it was filled with much less aggressiver perennials. 

But I still love the fragrance and the gorgeous leaves. So I culled the plants with the most striping and potted them in a plastic nursery pot, put that inside a bigger plastic container and buried the whole thing up to its rim in a section of the garden that is not yet designed. So it can function as a holding bed as needed. This spring, as soon as I saw the tips of the lilies, I pulled the pot out of the dirt and repotted them in this low container. They bloomed and seem to be growing well. So I am getting to have my cake and eat it, too, at least as far as these lilies are concerned.

The other technique to control the spread is to put lily of the valley in a fairly inhospitable location. This variety has a pale edge and larger leaves. And it comes from one of England's most famous Elizabethan houses, Hardwick Hall. I bought three! I am managing to keep it in check because of its location. It's planted in a bed under a 60-year-old Arborvita and a honey locust tree of the same age. The soil is hard-packed clay. 

Hosta 'Golden Tiara' seems to have no problem thriving there and the lilies increase each year but not so fast that I can't dig them out if they start to wander too far.  

Apple blossom tour

HE SAID:

I thought it was time to give the macro lens a rest and take a wider view of what's been happening in our garden.

 

Beginning at the bridge, this view to the south takes in our two ancient Macintosh apple trees in full bloom, the dwarf currant hedge, as well as our new (as of last Summer) black gravel paving material.

 

There's nothing like the delicate color of apple blossoms...

 

... especially when contrasted with the weathered bark of the old limbs.

 

This is the long view across the length of the pond to the tea house, still sheathed in its pink styrofoam. My next job is to attach the metal lath, inside and out, prior to applying the stucco -- in a more subdued color. 

 

Looking under the lilac trunks toward the apple trees from the back edge of the yard...

 

...and from the same spot in the other direction, toward what we have named the Sacred Grove. 

  

This woodland Peony is certainly the queen of this corner of the garden today. With the rains expected in a couple of hours her reign is about to end.

 

The view across the yard from near the Tea House with a glimpse of the pond in the lower left corner.

 

This shot was taken across the pond looking South toward the gate in the back fence. The Bloodgood Japanese maple and our baby Dawn Redwood occupy the left side of the picture.

 

Two found object sculptures in a sea of mixed Lily-of-the-Valley and Sweet Woodruff. 

 

The flowering crab apple in the front yard is one of a dozen or so trees that survive from the house's original landscape plan. The house was built in 1954, which makes these trees at least 55 years old.

 

On the other hand, we planted the River Birches to create this little grove in 1998.

 

This picture was taken from the path near the street looking across the Moon Garden toward the front of the house.

 

This group of Daffodils bordering the curb provide some floral entertainment for pedestrians and bikers in the street (we have no sidewalks on our block) .

 

And finally, our somewhat pathetic effort to create an Oak savanna, Dandelions and all. It's located, of course, under the Burr Oak at the juncture of the street and our driveway.

Lilies of a different stripe

I don't do seeds. Or at least very few — mostly those that can sow themselves directly into the soil. To create the space for a seed-starting set-up would mean giving up space currently devoted to something else. The only place where that might be possible is the room in the basement that we call the "dry media" room. 

That's where we have two drawing tables and two huge flat files filled with artwork on paper as well as drawing paper ready to be used. There's a light table for viewing slides and 7,000+ slides all in archival boxes, cross-referenced so I can easily find what I need for a talk or article. There's even a closet with all of the Christmas decorations stored in boxes stacked to the ceiling. The one thing you don't want to do in a dry art storage/work environment is introduce the kind of humidity that's ideal for starting seeds. It's fatal for art. 

KLEHM SONG SPARROW

Convallaria majalis 'Hardwick Hall'

And so I buy plants that someone else has started. We have an array of local independent nurseries, but I also try to support my favorite independent mail order nurseries, too. They often have unique items that they've bred as well as plants that reflect a personal passion — like peonies at Klehm's Song Sparrow Nursery, a multi-generational family operation in southern Wisconsin. 

So, even though I am on a much tighter budget this Spring than in other years, I am still going to order a few things by mail. But only plants that strenghten a plan that's already in progress. One of those plants is lily of the valley (Convallaria majalis). A garden classic, it can be a thug or an absolute workhorse in the right spot. Mine are under spruce trees in dry shade which keeps them under control. 

MARK GOLBACH

Convallaria majalis, an unnamed yellow striped variety from Seneca Hill Perennials

I didn't really get interested in this fairly common plant until I discovered the variety that's historically been grown at Hardwick Hall — home of the famed Bess, Countess of Shrewsbury, the second most powerful and wealthy woman in Elizabethan England. I've never been to Hardwick but I'm a big fan of Bess. So Hardwick's my top destinations as a gardener, needlewoman, feminist, and history and architecture buff. Did I forget anything? 

Until I can get there in person, I'm growing the Hardwick lily. Convallaria majalis 'Hardwick Hall' is nine inches tall with extra wide leaves that are margined in pale green for a lovely contrast with the darker middle. I've found that the leaves hold the lighter colored edge for most of the season.   

Klehm's carries four varieties of lily of the valley, including 'Hardwick,' compared to seven at Seneca Hill  where I bought one with yellow striping on the leaves. It is a stunning foliage plant — especially if you put it where it will be backlit in the early morning or evening. Nothing equals the light coming through those striped leaves. If it never flowered, I wouldn't mind. 

MARK GOLBACH

Convallaria majalis, a yellow striped variety from Seneca Hill Perennials

I am so thrilled with this plant that I'm thinking of adding Seneca Hill's unnamed 16-inch-tall cutting strain to my planting. They also have one called "Fernwood's Golden Slippers," whose leaves are much more yellow than the typical strain. But the one I've been thinking about for the last couple of years isn't available this spring. I hesitated and lost — at least until 2010. "Cream da Mint" is the one I'm willing to wait for. It's a tongue-in-cheek title for a plant whose foot tall glaucous leaves are edged in cream. A real beauty.

So, while you are starting seeds, I'll be doing my own spring ritual: shopping on-line. I hope that adding these more unusual varieties of lily of the valley will elevate what would otherwise be a utilitarian patch of groundcover into something new and noteworthy. 

SENECA HILL NURSERY

Convallaria majalis 'Creme da Mint' from Seneca Hill Perennials