It rained just about three inches in the first three days this week. That total is three times the amount of rain we received in the prior three weeks of September. That seems to be our new normal: Rain that rarely makes it through the leaves to the ground and then a sudden catch-up. Not the best pattern for the garden or the gardener.
The big question is how many days can I go without watering again, given that we're going into October with sun and temps in the high 70s° and low 80s°.
When you embark on a major garden re-design, you suddenly discover all sorts of areas that need smaller changes to accommodate the big garden changes. For many years, this area on the east side of our property was a moss garden. It was created when we put the pond in in 1997/98 and I wasn't allowed to plant anywhere else in the garden as it was almost entirely a construction site. So here I sat, pulling out grass to reveal the moss hidden underneath it. Fast forward 20 years to the realization that this was a labor intensive little spot, given our whole property was now under cultivation.
When we had the boulder wall, stone steps and paver driveway done in 2015, I needed to quickly find a big holding area for all the plants that lined the driveway. If I wanted to keep them, everything for two feet deep along the drive had to be dug up and put in temporary homes. Using the moss garden to solve this problem made it easier to say goodbye to that early garden.
Once all those plants had been put back along our redesigned front drive, we decided to take advantage of this now empty spot. We moved the bench that had been on our deck out under the old apple tree and created a path that directed you to it off the main gravel path.
For the first time, we had a spot to sit and view the garden down the length of the pond to the Tea House. Until this moment, we'd always sat on the bench on the deck and looked across the width of the pond to the hills behind it.
Once we decided to leave this new seating area, I began to plant Yew (Taxus) shrubs that I planned to eventually prune into globes.
I planted Maidenhair ferns and Hakonechloa macra grass, intending to fill the space between the shrubs with those two plants.
Eventually I gave up on the Japanese forest grass as the rabbits would not leave it alone. I concentrated on the ferns and added two tiny Acer pseudosieboldianum (Korean maple) trees. I didn't get very far with this replanting plan last summer, when all the debris we discovered buried under our old deck was shifted over here.
All of that broken concrete was put in the bottom of the empty pond this summer as Mark progressed on his big project. This unplanted area turned out to be the perfect location for our new water feature: The metal endcap of a tanker truck that is 39" in diameter. It has a valve on the bottom to release water when we want to clean it out.
I've planted Carexes, Hellebores and Geranium phaeums around it. After I did that, I discovered why bird baths are raised off the ground: Birds kept trying to land on the ferns and all the plants. I'm waiting to see if the plants can solidly fill in to a degree that will keep the critters off of them.
We are both thrilled with this new water feature that was found for us by a friend who is a retired metalworker.
On a recent visit to Olbrich Botanic Gardens, we discovered they are trying to keep all their garden debris on site. They are finding all kinds of visible, often decorative, uses for logs and tree branches. We decided we would do the same with one of the logs we had from last year's tree removals.
While the birds initially drank from the tank edges, the addition of tree branches extending into the water resulted in an explosion of avian visitors. Sometimes it looked like they were lined up on a runway waiting their turn to taxi down to the water.
We needn't have worried that removing our 7,000-gallon pond would result in a loss of birds and wildlife in the garden.
Saturday night's storm dumped 1.36" of rain on us in about half an hour. The garden was absolutely gleaming the next morning.
Pennsylvania sedge (foreground) and Adiantum x tracyi growing in the moss.
. . .
Monday, 6:30 a.m.: Just woke up to booming thunder, followed by rain. So I guess we won't be getting the last load of quartzite chips put into the pond this morning. Looks like this storm is going to be over us for a while, so I'm going to settle in with a cup of coffee and a garden book.
A week ago, we hired someone to blow the leaves off of our roof and gutters before predicted rain storms. Not only did a lot of leaves come floating down, but these lovely large blankets of moss came down as well.
They will never make the transition from growing on the roof to life on land with all the critters in the garden. So I put them on this boulder where I can see them at eye level and enjoy them while they last.
Hot weather and wind had our old crabapple tree in the front garden raining petals all week. Carolina Silverbell and a Mac apple tree in the back garden have everything coated in white.
This is one of Mark's favorite moments in the garden each spring: When the fallen Silverbell blossoms make it look like the evergreens are flowering.
Our 65-year-old Macintosh apple still hanging in there.
The Splendid and the Vile is the title of Erik Larson's new book about Churchill and the London Blitz. It also seemed to be an apt description of what I saw when I took a stroll through my garden yesterday, just before it began to rain. First the splendid:
This is the moss on the ground next to the lichen-covered stepping stone path.
A rock whose mica chips have disappeared over the years as lichens and mosses have made a home there.
. . . and now the very vile! Our Picea omorika 'Bruns pendula' with its beautiful weeping branches in an early snowfall last October. Note those broad branches spreading right down to the ground.
All gone. Something, most likely rabbits, ate the bottom 1/4 to 1/3 of the branches. This tree is 5 and 1/2 years old and has never been touched by critters or disease of any kind.
I realize it is ridiculous and selfish to complain about my garden not looking perfect when the world is in crisis. But it is easier to think about problems in the garden than what might happen later today or tomorrow; given the fact that the news keeps getting worse.
It's cold, gray and windy here but snowdrops are coming up as is the first Hepatica.
It was a pleasant change to come indoors and wash my hands — only because I had garden dirt under my nails.
Stay safe and keep washing those hands!
That's the phrase that caught my eye when I saw this charmer on the Far Reaches Farm website last year. Pteridophyllum racemosum is a Japanese plant that looks like a fern that flowers.
It made it through its first winter and bloomed! I am thrilled as it is even lovelier in person than on-line.
I planted it by this mossy grindstone thinking that the growing conditions would be right; but it turned out to be the perfect photo backdrop as well. Far Reaches is not offering this plant at the moment, so I am even more pleased that I splurged last year.