No more beef sticks

Note: The following has nothing whatsoever to do with gardening.

I was touring the aisles of a local discount store the other day searching for 'stuff' to include in a package to a family member who is serving in Iraq. I hate that kind of shopping (even when it comes to plants). I prefer to have a list in hand, pick up what I need, and get out as fast as possible.

Whenever I'm forced to actually look at the accumulation of junk that fills our stores' shelves, I come away feeling overwhelmed and slightly sickened.

All that plastic.

All that sugar.

All that money.

And for what? Things that nobody on this planet needs and very few people even want.

Of course, this time of year is the worst. And I, for one, have had enough. That's why I'll be giving goats this Christmas. And maybe a fishpond. Only I won't be giving them to my kids and their kids. They already have more than enough.

I'm going to be giving them to people who don't have food to eat or clothing to stay warm or enough education to make a better way for their families.

If that idea appeals to you, too, you might want to visit www.samaritanspurse.org. It's an organization that's headed by Franklin Graham (Billy's son). Since 1970, they've been helping people who are the victims of war, poverty, natural disasters, disease and famine.

I'm sure that there are other reputable organizations out there that do similar things, too.

Just think about it: For $35 we can provide a month's worth of care for an orphan or we can give a basket of waxy cheese and beef sticks to someone whose cholesterol is already too high.

It's our choice.

Back to the garden

Our Thanksgiving turned out great!

Thanks for asking.

Everyone came. Everyone ate. Everyone ate some more.

Now, back to gardening...

After a porch expansion last spring, I finally had room to put a black metal urn that I'd been saving next to my front door. I planted it with coleus, begonias, lobelia, a 'Fire Island' hosta and a tropical -- Cordyline australis 'Red Star' -- that was new to me.

The begonias and lobelia never did well. The coleus was nice until frost. And I planted the hosta back into the garden several weeks ago. But that cordyline is still carrying that urn all by itself! I'm very impressed. It's already survived temperatures in the low 20s. I'd planned on just calling it an annual, but it's done so well that I think now I'll try bringing it into the house once I give it some time to adjust in the garage.

Cordyline australis 'Red Star' has long, thick, narrow burgundy leaves and can grow to about 36 inches tall. It's related to the common houseplant 'Dracaena' but its leaves are longer and narrower. Mine grew in full shade and kept its color, though plant profiles recommend full to part sun.

Its color and form would make it a great accent in the garden, too.

Happy Thanksgiving

I just wanted to say 'Happy Thanksgiving!' to you all.

I should probably have written something profound or funny for the occasion, but really, I'm just not in the mood.

I've been busy trying to coordinate a holiday dining schedule for four groups of family members, each coming from a different corner of the world (well, OK, of the Midwest) and I'm just exhausted. My efforts to accommodate every one have already resulted in one breakup and one possible 'no show.' And all I was trying to do was to be NICE! Honest...

So, I'm just going to be grateful for whomever shows up at my table at 1 p.m. on Thursday and oh, so very thankful to the God of second chances.

Princess Diana

It was my biggest splurge of last spring. I was installing all new plant material in the front of our house and I wanted something that would provide a little instant gratification. So I paid four times what I would have for a smaller specimen and bought the six-foot-tall 'Princess Diana' amelanchier.

I actually threw my back out twice loading, unloading and planting that shrub. But, today, I think it was all worth it.

Seeing past

I'm not sure what you will see when you look at this photo.

Will it be the fact that I took it through the screen in my kitchen window? (Hence the fuzzy little squares.)

Will it be the unkempt patio and paths covered in waiting-to-be-raked leaves?

Or, like my husband when I tried to share the moment with him, will it be plants in various stages of decline and decay?


Want to know what I saw when I took it?


I saw an awesome kaleidoscope of colors, backlit by a luminous and low-slung autumn sun. I saw neighbors who had the foresight and good taste to plant red and yellow maples -- and I was grateful.

I saw a very obliging 'Miss Kim' lilac and a 'Snow Goose' ornamental cherry whose leaves picked up all the prominent colors, plus the golds of already-frozen hosta leaves.

And I saw a brilliantly-red euonymus alatus that -- five years from now, anyway -- will fill in that empty spot behind the tawny clethra and blue-green chamaecyparis to perfectly balance the color already on the other side of the yard.

I think gardening can sometimes be akin to mother love. You know, when that newborn baby is placed on your tummy -- wrinkly and red and all balled up -- and yet you see more. You see past the present and into the vast expanses of 'what will be.'

... and you smile.

Because, in that singular moment, what is, what was and what will be all blend together into one beautiful reality.

Is it over yet?

Perhaps I was a bit hasty.

Seems that Tuesday night's frost didn't really take out anything but the hosta and hydrangea leaves. Guess I'll have to wait a while longer to put the garden to bed. (I just read anyway that you should wait until you've had three hard freezes before you put leaf mulch on your perennials or they may not be dormant and you can actually smother them.)

I'm just SO ready to be done for the year. (Is it bad for me to say that?) I'd like to be able to move on to other things -- like turkey and pumpkin pie and buying gifts for the grandkids.

This is nothing new. I always need a couple of months to regroup; to let reality sink into the recesses of my mind and the rosy glow of optimism to bubble back up to the surface.

Once that happens, and visions of hollyhocks and roses overpower the lingering odor of BenGay, I'll be ready to sink my fingers into the soil once more.

Finally -- Frost!

I got my first hard frost last night. I was actually glad. Now, perhaps, our trees will start shedding and I can begin to cut things back and put the borders to bed under a blanket of chopped leaves.

I was starting to fear another wacky winter. Over the weekend I noticed that the PJM rhododendron near my front door had two blooms. (A strange sight given the plant's red fall foliage.) And I certainly didn't want to lose all my spring bloom to an unseasonably warm fall and winter again. (Nor to another late spring frost next year!)

Although I'm not a fan of cold weather, for the sake of my garden, I'm hoping for a more average winter -- maybe even some snow cover this year.

Plant snobbery

I have a confession.

I've been a plant snob.

For years, nothing but the latest and greatest varieties were ever invited to participate in my glorious ensemble. Everything else was much too mundane. So 'been there, done that.' So red geranium.

But with time I've discovered something: Those premium plants came at a premium price -- both in terms of dollars and cents and in terms of time spent tending them. Rarely available locally, the new specimens I'd get by mail order came in 3-inch pots and took years to establish themselves. (If they even survived.) And as often as not, once they did reach maturity, it became evident that they couldn't live up to all the catalog hype. (Probably my most painful lesson came when I paid a total of $60 -- including shipping -- for one "Little Honey" oakleaf hydrangea. Three years later, that shrub is still six inches tall.)

Not that all new plants are bad of, course. I've already professed my love for geranium 'Rozanne' many times. I guess I'm just coming to realize that not all OLD plants are bad either; that there's a reason why some of the standbys have remained popular for decades.

I'm also learning that gardening is not really about the specific plants that you grow anyway. It's much more about how and why you use specific plants.

That idea was really brought home to me as we started loading photos onto the O&E online photo gallery. With even a cursory glance through those pictures it's easy to see that a garden is more about a gardener's own personality than about specific plants. Ten gardeners can use the very same plants and come up with 10 very different gardens.

I find that really exciting. Much more exciting than waiting for the next batch of new introductions. (But don't hold me to that in January when the new catalogs hit my mailbox... ;0)