Eew!

In the interest of good taste, there is no photo with this post.

Today, while raking the back lawn, I found a dead bird. I think it used to be a red headed woodpecker, but I didn't want to look too closely. I admit it, I'm squeamish. I hate when things come to my yard to die. Luckily, my wonderful husband isn't squeamish at all, and he doesn't complain about disposing of dead things. He has disposed of a field mouse (the dogs were rolling in it), several opossums (I started calling the garden "The Secret Opossum Burial Ground"), and a baby groundhog.

The first dead thing he got rid of for me was an Iguana, way back when we were dating. I first saw the iguana on a warm sunny October afternoon, while I was working in the garden. I noticed that my Borzoi was stalking something. (She may have been stealthy, but I always knew when she was up to something.) I ignored her, as I figured whatever it was could either fly or scamper away, or was on the other side of the fence. To my horror, I saw her snatch a large lizard off a tree trunk where it had been sunning itself. She started capering around the yard, tossing, catching and shaking the lizard. Although I hated to ruin her fun (she did look very cute), I ran over to her and demanded in a stern voice, "Drop the lizard!" She did, and I dragged all 85 pounds of her into the house. I then called the police department to see if anyone reported their iguana missing. I was told by the operator at the police department that, as it was a Sunday afternoon, I needed to call 911 to report that I had an iguana in my yard. I felt a little silly, but I made the call. A short while later, the doorbell rang. I answered to find a uniformed police officer with his police car's emergency lights flashing. With a straight face, he asked, "You reported an iguana in your yard?" I took him out back, but the iguana was gone. I assumed it had left my yard. I thought that was the last of the iguana, but no. It had gotten very cold that night and the iguana must have been injured, because in February, I noticed what looked like a black garbage bag in one of the Forsythias. On closer inspection, I discovered it was a freeze-dried iguana. Yuck! That evening, my husband (then-boyfriend) came over and removed the iguana for me. He did admit that it was rather disgusting.
I guess finding dead critters is just a part of gardening, but it's one that's rarely mentioned in garden writing. I wonder why?

Being Led Down the Garden Path

November's theme for Garden Blogger's Design Workshop is paths. My front garden has a brick paver walkway running alongside it leading from the driveway to the front door. Functional, practical, utilitarian but attractive, it doesn't merit much analysis. Therefore, I turn my thoughts to the so-called Woodland garden.
Although there was no garden here when I bought Squirrelhaven, the Woodland garden area was not a tabula rasa. Any paths to be laid out had to account for the trees and the swing bench.
This garden is supposed to be a naturalistic area reminiscent of a forest preserve (minus the doggie doo-doo bag dispenser). Consequently, the paths needed to look natural. The obvious paving material was woodchip mulch. Except for the need to replenish the mulch annually (or even semi-annually), this surface works well in this setting. Inspired by the Ryerson Woods area connected to the Chicago Botanic Garden, I lined the paths with logs and large branches from trimmings and trees in the garden.
I planned the major paths to be wide enough to accommodate my wheelbarrow. It has started to become a matter of serious vigilance to keep the paths that width. The Lamiums, Violets and Geranium maculatum continually spread into the paths. They are pretty, so I let them stay while in bloom, telling myself I'll get serious about trimming them back later. Meanwhile, the paths get ever narrower.
I also tried to lay out the paths where the "natural path" seemed to be.
I started at the patio and envisioned myself and the dogs stepping off the patio to head straight into the garden: Entrance 1. This major path had to connect to the gate to the front and also had to lead to the swing.

The second major path is a straight line back to the compost bin.

Because that was not an attractive focal point, I decided to put in a screening device this year. The trellis for Clematis should provide sufficient screening next summer. I know the angel windchime is a bit on the cutesy side, but I'm not likely to find anything that size for the price: under $30 at the Design Toscano warehouse sale. (Regular retail price for the piece: over $70.) My hope is that the rustic setting is sufficient juxtaposition to overcome the cuteness factor.

The two secondary paths run in front of and behind the swing in a loop connected to the main paths.

There are several smaller paths which act as catwalks, allowing me to weed and plant without stepping in a bed and compacting the soil (or crushing something).
The second photo depicts the encroachment of the Lamium into the little path. It also shows part of the secondary loop around the back of the swing.


Am I satisfied with the layout of the paths? Not entirely, as I wish I had thought more about the garden as a journey, so that there would be enticement to see what is around the bend. There also should be more of a reward around the bend than a leaf mold bin and bags of shredded leaves. Of course I must note that these photos do not show the garden at its best, when the foliage of shrubs provides more screening and a hint of mystery. Time will also help (hopefully), as I expect the Cotinus and the Chionanthus to fill in as they mature. However, the garden should look good throughout the year, which is why I decided to use photos of the paths taken now rather than post photos from summer. When evaluating design, it is best to consider the garden at its least attractive. Inspiration for improvements comes naturally from a consideration of the flaws. On the whole, the paths complement the garden stylistically. Most are wide enough for me to drag some victim out into the garden to see some plant I'm excited about. ("Come on, kids, you've got to see what's in bloom!!") I prefer paths that allow me to share the experience.

A Light Frosting

Yes, the food overload from Thanksgiving yesterday is still affecting my brain. The first snow of the season has arrived and stuck around a bit. The above photo is from yesterday morning, but most of that snow is still here. (And no, I didn't get the leaves picked up out front. That has to wait until it gets above freezing tomorrow.) In the south suburbs of Chicago, where I went for the Thanksgiving gathering, there was no snow. I'm not sure where the line is, but that area is clearly a half zone warmer than the Northwest suburbs (Zone 5b v. 5a).

No Mall for me today. I don't like shopping at the best of times, so it's a good day to stay home and regroup between Holiday activities. It's also a good time to reflect on all I have for which to be thankful. Here's a top 5, in no particular order:

1. Family and friends

2. Health

3. The rains of August

4. The opening of a new trail connecting a park and forest preserve property

5. My digital camera. I got it for Christmas last year. It's not the best camera (not even an SLR), but it's good enough. In this life, one must be satisfied with that. Put another way, by the Rolling Stones, "You can't always get what you want. And if you try sometime you find you get what you need."

Thoughts About "Green Thoughts"

The October/November selection for the Garden Blogger's Book Club is Eleanor Perenyi's "Green Thoughts: A Writer in the Garden." This is my first time participating. I first read this book 15 years ago. I had been gardening for a while and was beyond How-To books and books advising which plants to plant. So I was exploring gardening philosophy by reading such garden writers and designers as Russell Page, Mirabel Osler, Louise Beebe Wilder, and Gertrude Jekyll. I'd walk over the the library next to my office and immerse myself in garden literature on my Winter lunch hours. I read, absorbed, and chose what was applicable to my garden from the wealth of past and current garden writing. One of the best of those was "Green Thoughts," published in 1981. Unlike the other authors, who were gardeners who wrote books, Perenyi is a writer who gardens.
What most struck me on this second reading was how this book influenced my opinions and how my opinions have since diverged from those of Perenyi about gardening. I agree with Perenyi's dislike of the vulgar, rejecting those suburban gardens that are full of nothing but the newest hybrids. I also was influenced by her stance on annuals, where she condemns the standard American practice of "the ribbon border" of a mishmash of different colored annuals. Like Perenyi, I also have no annuals planted in the ground in my ornamental garden. Where my opinion diverges is in Perenyi's strong dislike for colored foliage. She doesn't want to see Autumn colors in Summer. I find that judicious use of purple or chartreuse foliage can add interest to a garden's down time, when little may be in bloom in a certain area.
The format of the book is user-friendly, an alphabetical compilation of unrelated essays, which may be read in small bits, or several at a time, perfect for Winter lunch break or bedtime reading.
Reading this book is like sitting in Perenyi's garden listening to her talk about gardens and gardening. In addition to sound horticultural advice (don't bother digging up wildflowers to plant in your own garden, they'll probably not survive), it is full of humor and still-timely insights. For example, she condemns any "flower whose grower thinks of it in terms of advertising and brand names" as it "ceases to be a flower and becomes a product to be marketed like any other." The same holds true for other plants as well and the brand-naming of plants seems to be a more recent phenomenon. Particularly striking, and unique in gardening books is the essay, "Woman's Place," a feminist polemic on the history of gardens, both Eastern and Western.
This is a book to make a gardener think about the place of his or her garden in the world and how each garden has an impact on the planet as a whole. If you haven't already read it, go buy it or check it out from the library. No matter your skill or experience at gardening, there is something worthwhile for any gardener in this book.

I'm It (I've Been Tagged)

Lisa at Greenbow tagged me for the 8 Random Things meme. The rules are:
When tagged, you must link to the person who tagged you, then post the rules before your list, and list eight random things about yourself. At the end of the post, you must tag and link to eight other people.
But first, a photo:

So, eight things about me:
1. I am a second-generation Italian-American hillbilly. All my relatives came from the same town on the top of a mountain in Southern Italy, and had been there since Roman times. I have purer blood than the crowned heads of Europe, or, to put it another way, "I'm the product of inbreeding, what's your excuse?" My face has turned up at least twice before: once during the Roman Empire (a bust from Pompeii), and again during the Golden Age of Naples, 17th century (a painting).
2. I studied in Rome for a semester at Loyola University's Rome Center. By the end of the semester, I was fluent in Italian, and was even dreaming in Italian. (Sadly, my language skills have since gotten very rusty.)
3. I am an elected official serving on the Board of a public body. Hence my need to retain some anonymity, as I don't want to get my entity in trouble when I criticize things about the community in which I live.
4. I have a talent for painting faux-finishes, including marbleizing and rag-rolling. I did the walls at a coffeehouse in Chicago's Roger's Park neighborhood, but that was 15 years ago, and it has probably been remodeled since. My current "commission" is to help my dad paint clouds on his Great Room ceiling.

5. I hate to cook, but I don't mind baking. My secret recipe chocolate chip cookies won a blue ribbon at the county fair when I was 13.
6. I grew up in a small town on the Fox River and am the youngest of five children. (It was like that Madness song "There's always something happening and it's usually quite loud.")
7. If I could live anywhere in the world (won the Lottery, kids are grown and moved away), my husband and I would live in the Italian Lake District, preferably on Lake Como. If you aren't familiar with that area, watch Star Wars Episode 2 (the wedding scene was filmed at a villa there).
8. My secret ambition is to be a supernumerary at the Lyric Opera in Chicago.

Gina at My Skinny Garden, Healing Magic Hands, Kim at Blackswamp Girl, Layanee at Ledge and Gardens, Pam at Digging - An Austin Gardener's Diary, Robin at Robin's Nesting Place, and Shady Gardener at Does Everything Grow Better in My Neighbor's Yard?, you're It!

Bloom Day November 2007

It's Bloom Day again. Because this Autumn had been so warm, there are still a few things blooming here at Squirrelhaven. Down to the last few blossoms are:
an Aster tartaricus that I recently moved, the Labrador violet (Viola labridorica) which had its main flush in Spring,








Phlox maculata 'Natasha,' a Monkshood,
surprisingly, this Osteospermum in a pot, and a pink Lamium, combining well with the foliage of Ceratostigma plumbaginoides.

There's even a bud on Campanula 'Sarastro.'




The amazing display by Anemone 'Andrea Atkinson' is also finally winding down, with just a few new blooms left.These plants have been blooming continuously since August. But they are far from being the winner in the long-blooming sweepstakes here. That award has yet to be determined, as the two front-runners, Geranium nodosum 'Svelte Lilac' and Malva zebrinus are still producing buds and show no sign of stopping yet. The Geranium has been blooming since the middle of May, while the Malva didn't start until June, so what happens in the next couple of weeks could be decisive.
I don't know whether this will be my last entry in Bloom Day for the season; I just noticed that some Galanthus elwesii are sprouting.

"Indian Summer"

I got nothing done over the weekend, it was so cold and dreary. Yesterday and today, it's Indian Summer, so leaf pickup resumes, as do other end of the year garden chores. My tool of choice for leaf pickup is a leaf vac, as I prefer to combine the picking up and shredding of leaves in one step. Yes, its noisy and uses electricity, but the alternative is running them over with the mower, which is also noisy, and it uses gasoline. I would rather not shred the leaves at all, but Cottonwood and Norway Maple leaves are thick and mat down if not shredded. I use some of the leaves as winter mulch, but most are destined for the leaf mold pile, a thing of beauty and a joy forever. Sorry, I got a bit carried away there, but I do love leaf mold. It is so much easier to make than compost. No need for turning or adding soil, no weed seed worries, no icky smells, no ants, no hornets, no squirrel raids (except in the Fall when they steal leaves for their nests), just shredded leaves and time result in dark crumbly goodness for soil and plants. The only concern is with invading tree roots, so I've placed the bin on top of heavy plastic, and I must check it occasionally to ensure that there is no invasion.


I finally brought in the cacti. I must confess that I am not a houseplant person. It's not that I don't like houseplants, it's just that I have an uncanny knack for killing them. Among others, I've killed Orchids, florist's Cyclamen, African Violets, and even Aloe. The only houseplants I have now are one sad Spiderplant from a big box store that hangs out (literally) in the kitchen, and two Cacti. I don't know what they are and I didn't buy them, as I don't like spiny plants. I have them because they were the first present my husband gave me. Before we started dating, he brought back from Palm Springs a dish of three baby Cacti for me. Yes, I killed one of them. I think it died because I pulled off the phony pink flower that was glued to the top of it. That was 13 years ago. I still marvel that I've managed to keep these two alive this long. They have been repotted twice, which helps, but I think the secret to their longevity is that they are houseplants for only half the year. The Cacti spend Spring through Fall outside on the front porch. Admittedly, they are not the most beautiful specimens, especially after they got sprayed with black fabric paint (thanks to my son). They've also repeatedly been knocked over and out of their pots. So, the fact that they are still alive is quite amazing.

Another task tackled is getting the terracotta pot put away. I leave all my other containers out for the winter, some with plants, some without. I don't like terracotta because it has to go inside, otherwise it cracks in the freezing weather. I made an exception for this shell planter.
I just couldn't resist it. So out came the Sedum/Hylotelephium Matrona and the Hens and Chicks thing (I don't know what it is), and into the ground and another planter.







The tasks are getting done. I just hope I can get all the leaves off the lawn before the first snow. The Maple and the Yellowwood are late in turning this year.

Field Tripping

Last Friday, I chaperoned my son's third-grade class field trip (literally) to a nearby restored prairie. The kids had been studying the prairie and its plants, and this field trip allowed them to see the plants growing in their natural habitat. It was wonderful to see how many plants they were able to identify. Hope for the future.

edited 11/10/07 I just learned that this prairie was featured on national television on "The News Hour with Jim Lehrer," and that the Science Channel has filmed there also.

Frost and the Autumn Garden

It's amazing what a difference a little cold weather and frost can make on the colors in the Autumn garden. Finally, all the plants that were waiting for cold weather are turning.

This is one of those nifty plants that garden writers describe as "underused."It is the native Gillenia trifoliata. It blooms in Spring with small white flowers, has healthy green foliage all Summer, and then ends up like this before drying out. Another plant that turns orange (surprisingly) is the dark-foliaged Actaea/Cimicifuga 'Black Negligee.' Behind it is a Hosta that has finally turned yellow.
The Witchhazel (Hammamelis 'Sunburst'), behind the Geranium maculatum and the Hostas, has just started turning yellow and orange. Usually its Fall color accompanies the Geranium, but I fear that this year the Geranium will be a dried, faded mess by the time the Witchhazel color peaks.

By contrast, the dark-leaved Smokebush, Cotinus coggygria 'Nordine' is already at peak color.
I just had to get a shot of the back-lit leaf color. 'Nordine' is the hardiest of the dark-foliaged Smokebushes; I got it at a sale at the Morton Arboretum.

Not as dark as the Smokebush, this Dogwood adds depth to the Autumn garden. It is 'Aurora,' one of the Rutgers University hybrids (Cornus x rutgersensis 'Rutban'). Still too immature to bloom, it came from the same sale as the Smokebush.

The Magnolia's Fall show is right on schedule. It came with the house, so I don't know what cultivar of Magnolia stellata it is. This is the view from my living room. Every November, the room is filled with golden light.

November's Musings 2007

Carolyn Gail, at Sweet Home & Garden Chicago, started Garden Blogger's Muse Day, on the First of each month. The following post is not a musing about gardening. (Pardon the unintentional pun.)
November is a month of remembrance, starting with All Saints' Day and All Souls Day, and going through Veterans' Day. I think Veterans Day should be a different date, and November 11th should be changed back to Armistice Day, in honor of the end of that horror that wiped out a generation, including my favorite artist, Franz Marc,
who died in the abattoir called the Battle of Verdun. We should honor the people who died or were physically or mentally maimed in the Great War, aptly named not because it was wonderful, but because it was large and terrible. As the events of World War I start to move beyond living memory, I fear that they will be forgotten. There are several days to honor the memory of those who served in WWII: Pearl Harbor Day, V-E Day, V-J Day, Normandy Invasion Day. My only close relative to serve in a war was my paternal grandfather, who was conscripted into the Italian army in 1917 when he was in Italy attending the University of Naples. Fortunately, he had an uncle who was a general, so he served as a messenger, and never saw combat. We should never forgot the sacrifices of those who did see combat, and honor them with a separate day.

And now for something completely different.
By the end of November, all the deciduous trees have shed their leaves, their stark silhouettes standing as a remembrance of Spring and Summer's life and color. By the end of November, most of the flowers are gone as well, empty places in the garden leaving only a memory of color and fragrance.
Yes, I'm going all melancholy. Time to pull out the full-spectrum UV light box to fend off Seasonal Affective Disorder. I'm already on my second box.

The Franz Marc painting above is from 1911, titled "The Large Blue Horses."
(edit. For a soldier's view of the events of WWI, go to wwar1.blogspot.com.)