Favorite Flower of the Week Award

I grow my fair share of new varieties. Some of these plants really do live up to all their press, and others, well, they don't. But as I was sipping lemonade this weekend and surveying my domain from under the shade of a decrepit maple tree, it was not a new variety that caught, and held, my attention.

It was the hollyhocks.

I don't think it was the appearance of the flowers that captivated me so much as the way those flowers made me feel when I looked at them. In that moment, those simple pink and red and white discs captured the essence of why I garden: In them I felt, rather than saw, beauty and warmth and hope and home.

But I have no idea why.

I don't remember anyone in particular growing them in my youth, though I'm sure I must have come across them somewhere in my little hometown. (My grandfather, the resident gardener, was more into the practicalities of vegetables -- although he did tend a rose bush or two.) Maybe it was the neighbor lady who grew them; the one who always gave our family Long Johns at Christmastime (so fresh, the brown paper bag felt warm when she placed it in my hand). It could have been the proprietor of the tiny neighborhood grocery where my older brother and I would go for Pushups and Dreamsicles and bottles of soda dragged through a maze of icy water. Or maybe there were hollyhocks lining the outskirts of the parking lot where the village showed outdoor movies on the wall of the town's only bank building during dry, dusty summer evenings.

I don't really recall.

I do know that in a few weeks the hollyhocks, or at least the foliage, will succumb to rust, leaf spot and/or anthracnose. Spider mites and Japanese beetle will have their way with them. Perhaps then my bubble will burst.

But for now, I like where I am when I look at these plants. And for that, there should be a garden award.

Buddleia or buddleja?

So, is it buddleia or buddleja?

Looks like it's another case of you say "tomAto" and I say "tomaato."

According to Wikipedia, "the botanic name has been the source of some confusion. By the usual practice of botanical Latin, the spelling of a genus name made from "Buddle" (The plant was named after the Reverend Adam Buddle who was a botanist and a rector in Essex, England.) would be "Buddleia." However, Linnaeus (the Swedish botanist, physician and zoologist who laid the foundations for the modern scheme of Binomial nomenclature) wrote it down as "Buddleja," and never changed it. So, by the rule of naming priority, "Buddleja" should be preferred, though the i/j interchange could be modernized as an orthographical variant (different spellings of one and the same name, which has a single date of publication).

Got that?

Personally, I think I'll stick with buddleia. Reverend Buddle should get his due and we ought to forgive -- and forget -- old Linnaeus' mistake.

Slug bugs (of the rose variety)

Once again I'm reminded that 'low maintenance' does not mean 'no maintenance.'

My Knock Out roses -- "the most maintenance-free rose in the world' -- have been attacked by rose slug worms (the larval stage of a sawfly). The skeletonized leaves tend to detract from the otherwise stunning floral display, so I did a search online to try to discover how to deal with the buggers.

Here's what I learned (courtesy of www.weidners.com):
The rose slug larvae turn into pupae and overwinter in the soil. It emerges in spring as a sawfly (a member of the wasp family) to lay eggs on your rose leaves. The eggs hatch out into these little green larvae that look a bit like a caterpillar. They cling to the undersides of your rose leaves, eat like crazy, and then disappear. Most varieties only have one cycle but they can do lots of damage in a short period of time. After the leaves are skeletonized and brown, it does no good to spray. That's like locking the barn door after the horse is gone! All the Bayer Rose products with cyfluethrin work really well. You can choose not to use an insecticide and hand pick and spray off the little slug worms with a strong spray of water. Horticultural oil used when they are first attacking will work and is a very safe alternative. Trichograma beneficial wasps won't help and BT will not work. Both of these are specific to caterpillars and this is a larvae not a caterpillar.

Well, I'll not be 'squishing' them by hand and they stick like glue to the undersides of those leaves, so I don't really think spraying them with water is going to be very effective. And, since my infestation is pretty advanced, horticultural oil doesn't sound like it's going to be an option either.

Am I really going to have to resort to chemicals on the "the most maintenance-free rose in the world?'

Mastering mountain laurel

I was marveling at the beauty of the 'Tinkerbell' Kalmias as I left for work the other day and wondering why I never hear anyone talking about these shrubs. But then I glanced over at my other kalmia, a 'Sarah,' and answered my own question.

While both of my 'Tinkerbells' are covered with those unique pink buds and gorgeous blooms, 'Sarah' is a sight of a different kind. A gift from my daughter -- who made a four-hour trip with the shrub sitting next to her on the passenger seat of her Honda Civic -- I planted 'Sarah' about five years ago. She was already budding when I got her, and that first year she bloomed well and put on modest new growth. The second year, 'Sarah' bloomed but not as abundantly and had very little new growth. The third year, she dropped about half of her leaves and never put forth any new ones. The fourth year I moved her to a spot I thought she might enjoy more (more shade, more acidic soil) and 'Sarah' did bloom again, but it was hard to appreciate the flowers when she had so much 'leg' showing.

This year? Nothing. No new growth. No new buds.

I will probably end up pruning 'Sarah' pretty hard, just to see what happens. (She really can't look much worse at this point.) And besides, one of the 'Tinkerbells' survived a pretty drastic clipping (my husband inadvertently 'pruned' it with the snow shovel last winter) and, like I said, it's doing well. Maybe some tough love is in order.

Snippets

The week that we get inundated with rain (most reports put it between 8 and 11 inches), my super-dooper electronic remote rain gauge decides to quit working. I just know that we've had 'a lot' because the perimeter of my yard is under water. (A - thankfully - rare occurrence.) What must the people whose gardens will be featured in the upcoming Kankakee and Champaign County garden walks be feeling right now?

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I succumbed to the hype and planted a Double Knock Out Rose outside my kitchen window this spring. Now I'm not sure that I like it. I can only describe its vibrant red blossoms as 'electric.' Beautiful, yes, but almost too much, I think. They're like a big neon sign flashing 'Look at me! Look at me!' I'm thinking of putting The Fairy rose back in its spot. (It started out there four or five years ago, but has been moved every year since. - Yes, I know...I know...)

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I have one very large blossom from a 'Cincinnati' peony sitting in a vase on my desk right now. It's huge, ruffled and lightly fragrant. (It's also lasted a week, which is a definite plus.) That bloom makes me happy every time I look at it. - Not just because it's beautiful, but because it reminds me of the people I love who live in Cincinnati. (That IS why I bought it, after all.)

'Cincinnati' has deep, vibrant pink blooms that are edged with silver. You'll like it even if you don't love anyone who lives there. (Check out Klehm's Song Sparrow at www.songsparrow.com.)

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Talking about peonies, I was disappointed in my tree peony this spring. It was the first year that it bloomed and I got very excited when I say the enormous buds developing. The blooms - though large - weren't really anything special, though. Besides, they only lasted two or three days. Guess I'll stick with the herbaceous varieties.