Turn and Face the Strange

Changes , in nomenclature, have been on my mind lately. I've always preferred using the Latin names of plants because it is more precise. One name refers to one specific plant. (Thank you Carl Linnaeus, you genius.) Moreover, I don't know the "common name" of many plants. I'll read a gardening article in the newspaper and wonder: about which plant is the author writing? There is no way to look it up easily. Give me the Latin name, and I can quickly determine much about a plant. "Virginica" or "canadensis" means it is a native, "japonica" tells me I probably can't grow it, whereas "siberica" indicates that it's rock-hardy. "Alba" suggests white flowers, "albo-striata" that it has variegated foliage. Knowing the Latin name also shows which plants are related or not.


Like most gardeners, I've become used to the names of plants. Botanists have revised the names of a great number of plants recently for scientific reasons. As mentioned in my last post, the American asters have all been removed from the genus Aster.
I have had a difficult time wrapping my mind around the new names, such as Symphyotrichum novae-angliae, or Hylotelephium. But should the new names be resisted simply because they are unfamiliar? Historically, plant names have changed, and gardeners have adapted. If I walked into a garden center today and asked for Funkia or Megasea, I'd get some funny looks. One hundred years ago these were the names Gertrude Jekyll used in her book Colour Schemes For the Flower Garden, for Hosta and Bergenia, respectively. (See Colour Schemes For the Flower Garden, p. 208 (1986 ed.) (1st published 1908).)
Gardeners of the world, unite and take over! (No, wait, I got a bit carried away there.) Gardeners, embrace the new names in the knowledge that in a hundred years, no one will remember the name Cimicifuga. In the meantime, I intend to use both. This is Cimicifuga/Actaea 'Black Negligee.'

Supersize It

I've always known that the asters came in all sizes, but I had no idea that they got this huge. This one is over 6 feet tall, a horticultural Colossus of Rhodes, entitled to consideration for one of the Seven Wonders of the Gardening World (if there were such a thing). It's like an aster on steroids. This is the straight species Aster tartaricus. I've had Aster tartaricus for years, and it usually tops out at between four and five feet tall. Another growth explosion caused by the extra August rain.
While this plant retains the name "Aster," most of the American asters have been reclassified as Symphyotrichum. In the following photo are two former asters, Symphyotrichum ericoides 'Snow Flurry' and a hybrid between that and Symphyotrichum laeve 'Bluebird.' The flowers of this volunteer hybrid are more blue than they appear in the above photo. Here is a closeup of the flowers with a slightly more realistic color:
The flowers are in between the size of 'Snow Flurry' and 'Bluebird.' They are also a paler violet than 'Bluebird's' flowers. Last year it suffered a rabbit attack in Spring, which shortened it by about half. I liked that better than its unpruned state this year.

Here are Symphyotricum novae-angliae 'Honeysong Pink' and 'Hella Lacy' in full bloom (with white butterfly). A hybrid between the two has violet flowers. In the photo it looks too lavender (it's the flower on the bottom). My camera just can't seem to get the violet or the purple right. 'Hella Lacy' is a true dark purple. 'Hella Lacy' and the hybrid are growing with a volunteer Symphyotrichum pilosum, which I'd better get rid of before it goes to seed.

I wish I had a photo of the lovely Aster cordifolius 'Sweet Lavender.' I'm not calling it by the new name because this plant no longer exists in my garden. It succumbed to repeated attacks by rabbits and squirrels. Yes, I actually caught the squirrels attacking it. The plant must have given up in disgust.

Finally, I have two mystery asters. The volunteer plant is compact, with small white flowers. This plant blooms late in Summer. The stems and leaves are smooth.
The other mystery is my fault. I ordered a plant from the now-defunct Heronswood Nursery, but I failed to write down the name. I had been keeping the old catalogues, but I must have recycled the one from which I ordered, and I can't figure out what it is. The flowers are actually a very pale violet. It starts blooming around the middle of July and is nearly done now. It gets about 2 1/2 feet tall and has smooth green stems and leaves. I can't remember when I got it, but it was sometime before 2000. If anyone can identify this plant, I would be so grateful.

The Year of Living Structurally

This is what the Woodland garden looked like last Autumn. It was too open, too exposed. All of it could be seen at once. It needed some sort of enclosure, some screening to add a sense of mystery to it. Over the Winter, I read a book about adding structure to the garden and realized that was what was missing. First, I bought two trellises to add screening. Then I ordered an arbor. It was on sale and took only a couple of hours to put together. I did most of it myself, but I needed help putting the top slats on (I am too short to reach). Here's what the Woodland looks like now: There is a Clematis planted on one trellis already, and I have to move a very large Clematis 'Henryi' to go on the far trellis. Once these plants mature, they will hopefully provide green screening.
A comparison of these photos also demonstrates the effect of vast quantities of August rainfall on the growth of Anemone 'Andrea Atkinson.'

The Shrub That Ate the House

It's a case of wrong plant, wrong place. In my own defense, I must explain that this Forsythia was here when I bought the house. It was nowhere near as large then. I have thinned it repeatedly, removing the old, thick stems at ground level. I cut it back again this Spring. Then, the August deluge came. The sump pump ejector tube is behind this plant. When it overflowed, the excess water got sucked up by the Forsythia. All that extra water resulted in this extra growth. The question is, do I cut it back now, sacrificing next year's blooms? Do I leave it to thwack against the house all Winter? Or do I try to remove it now? I don't like any of these options. In any event, this plant's days are numbered.

An Existential Exercise

When I was in college, I studied Jean-Paul Sartre's "Pierre is Not in the Cafe" example, which poses the existential conundrum of how can one see the absence of something. I was reminded of this when walking through the restored savanna at the local forest preserve. The photo above shows what a wooded area in Northern Illinois should look like. There is something missing in the picture above, which allows a view into the shadows between the trees. That something is buckthorn, the absence of which also allows the growth of native wildflowers, such as Eurybia macrophyllus f/n/a Aster macrophyllus and White Snakeroot (Ageratina altissima a/k/a Eupatorium rugosum), the white area in the right background. This wooded area is burned regularly, usually in the Autumn, to destroyed alien invaders and restore the soil. Compare that with this photo. This is an area that has not been restored. The spindly stuff with the green leaves is the buckthorn.
Here's another example of spot what is missing: This photo shows a tree with a root flare surrounded by a mulched area with Hostas.
Okay, here's a hint:








Yes, it's the ubiquitous mulch and soil volcano. Too many people (and landscape companies and units of local government) have forgotten what a properly planted tree looks like. Does anyone actually find the example on the left attractive? It certainly isn't healthy for the tree, which is why I am happy to see this: yes, the village in which I live (which shall remain nameless) has actually mulched buckthorn. Well, that's one way to kill it.

NIMG: Not In My Garden: a Top 10

Kim at A Study in Contrasts: NIMG: Not In My Garden! suggested as a meme Not In My Garden, a list of things I admire but would not want in my own garden. So here is my list:

1. Major water features

This one I saw on a local garden walk. It had a big, beautiful waterfall. I don't think I have room for such a water feature and it looks like a lot of maintenance. Finally, there is a large retention pond behind my garden which provides for the local wildlife.

2. Market umbrellas - it looks great in the above photo, but, again, my garden style just doesn't have a place for them.

3. Japanese gardens - my garden is in the Midwest, and it looks it. In addition, it would be too difficult to confine myself to such a narrow plant palette.

4. Roses - they are beautiful, and some, such as the David Austin rose 'Sharifa Asma,' have a heavenly scent. I just don't want to have to deal with the Japanese beetles (that's what my Rose of Sharon is for) and the fertilizing and other regimens that go with roses. Moreover, any rose I grew would have to be scented. Sadly, NIMG.

5. Gladiolus - they are too stiff, so that I find them hard to use in a mixed border.

6. Tropicals - as shown in the last photo of my "Walkabout" post, tropicals, such as Corydaline, can be beautiful. They are just too much work for me, and they seem out of place in my naturalistic gardens.

7. Grass paths

Too much upkeep and mine would never look this good. My paths get too much use.

8. Birdbaths Can you say "mosquito magnet"? Then there's the cleaning, and who knows what the raccoons would do with it. It's bad enough finding bits of half-eaten toad in the garden.

9. White gardens - Sissinghurst is beautiful, but, most white flowers age to a ratty beige. I try to avoid them, however, this beauty can stay. Anemone 'Andrea Atkinson' sheds its petals before they turn brown.

10. Delphiniums - me trying to grow Delphiniums is like being a Cub fan: each Spring starts out with such hope, only to end in bitter disappointment come Fall. I long ago gave up on both.

In the Beginning...

There was a garden on a sunny hillside, with a Southern exposure.This photo shows my front garden at my former house with my then-housemates. The little mutt on the left was named Coco. The Borzoi, who thought she was a lap dog, was Oaklara's Natasha Fatal. Sadly, they have both since passed on. The garden was in the front yard because the dogs had the backyard to themselves.
From the perspective of 14 years distance, it is clear that the shape of the bed was too curvy and contrived. Also, there was too much emphasis on flowers. It also lacked structure and a focal point.
Last year I drove past the old house for the first time since moving. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the front garden remains, albeit with a more sensible outline.

Blogger's Bloom Day September*

* These blooms were produced without pesticides, herbicides, or synthetic fertilizers. Results not typical. Your blooming may vary. Blooms not available in all areas. No actual animals were harmed in the making of this blog. A few ants might have been inadvertently squished. Several mosquitos were deliberately terminated, however, but that was in self-defense.

Things still in bloom from last month are Phlox 'David,' 'David's Lavender,' and 'Laura' seen here with Lobelia 'Monet Moment' and Geranium 'Rozanne.' Behind this grouping are two large clumps of Anemone 'Andrea Atkinson,' which started blooming in August.
Also still blooming is Campanula 'Samantha.' Here's a new grouping this year that I think works These are Lobelias 'Monet Moment' and 'Sparkle DeVine' with Echinacea purpurea.
Both Tricyrtis 'Gilt Edge' and 'Tojen' are still blooming. Tojen is a big, bold thing.
The Lamium maculatums have been blooming off and on since April. Here's a pink one with Ceratostigma plumaginoides. Geranium nodosum 'Svelte Lilac' is the longest blooming plant in the garden. I have it in several places around the garden. Here it is with Phlox 'Natasha.'
This is Clematis 'Cezanne,' reblooming. Looks like the earwigs chomped on it.

Newly blooming, and for the first time, Actea/Cimicifuga 'Black Negligee,' the only one of 5 plants to bloom. Also in the photo are Lobelia syphilitica and a sedum-thingy that came with the house. I know there's a joke in there somewhere with 'Black Negligee' and L. syphilitica, but I'm not going to go there.
It amazes me how good plastic pots can look. Behind it is the double pink Anemone 'Party Dress,' looking like it's had too much to drink. In a terracotta pot is the plant formerly known as Sedum 'Matrona,' with the munched on Malva Zebrina behind it.
This plant is a cutting I made this Spring to remove a reversion from 'Black Jack,' seen here with 'Tricolor' in another plastic pot.


It's Aster (or whatever the new name is) Time!
This is a volunteer that I suspect is a hybrid.
Here's an idea I stole from Gertrude Jekyll's book "Colour Schemes for the Flower Garden":
this is Bergenia cordifolia with the plant formerly known as Aster divaricatus sprawling over it. In the sunny front prairie-ish garden, New England Asters 'Harrington's Pink' and 'Hella Lacy' are just starting to bloom.
This is my favorite Aster, which used to be called laevis 'Bluebird.'
A close second is A./S. ericoides 'Snowflurry.'
Its neighbors are coneflowers and Solidago 'Fireworks.' In the back border, 'Fireworks' is teamed with Phlox 'Nicky' and an Aster, whose name eludes me, that I got from the now-defunct Heronswood nursery. Colchicum 'The Giant' is in bloom, but since I just did a post on it, I thought I'd skip a photo here. Heptacodium miconiodes is still in bloom and it is starting to display its calyxes. It is such a great plant that I've decided to devote a separate post to it.
Edit - I forgot to list that the labrador violet is reblooming a bit. I also failed to mention that Bloom Day is the brain child of Carol of May Dreams Gardens.

Walkabout

I decided to try Blackswamp Girl's from A Study in Contrasts idea of a neighborhood walk. As I no longer have a dog, the photos are not blurry.

What I noticed is that the houses with the most interesting gardens/landscaping tended to be those on a corner, such as this one. It makes the most of its location. What I particularly like are the plants hanging on the wall. This is of the same property from another angle.
And yes, that's a Japanese maple by the yellow Hosta. Clearly, these people are much braver than I. I like the use of the different colored foliage of the maple, the Hosta, and the conifer.

This house may have 60's suburbia written all over it, but the front garden makes up for that. The garden has interesting textures and colors, a welcome change from the standard green meatball foundation planting. Click on the picture to enlarge.
Around the corner on Main Street is this historic house, also on a corner.
A large tree here was damaged in the recent storm and had to be taken down. This photo was taken from the sidewalk, which is screened from the property by a mixed hedgerow.
Finally, here's another corner lot that shows no reluctance to put the garden in front. This garden is packed with interest year round. Aside from the dense and varied planting, what makes this garden special is its use of hardscaping. Now that's what I call a focal point. I guess the Corydaline (if that's what it is) in the pot qualifies for a NIMG (Not in My Garden). It's beautiful, but it would not belong at Squirrel Haven.

Yes, that's the name I've decided on (it was that or Mosquito Manor, and the squirrels are here all year). Here's the front garden at Squirrel Haven, the Faux Prairie.

Mine is the only front yard on the street with a garden in bloom now. Maybe I'll do another walkabout next Spring.