What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been: 2008 in Review

It's that time again, when the media look back at all the events of the past 12 months. I've decided to join that ramble down memory lane, not merely as filler (believe me, I have more to write about than time to write), but to commemorate a noteworthy year.

In January, I posted for Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day, which is all the more amazing considering the snow festival that was February, including a snow sculpture competition. Thank goodness we were able to escape to Florida.

I ordered plants from the Morton Arboretum's member sale.

March brought the garden back to life with Crocuses and the visit of Great Blue Herons. I ordered some mail order plants.

April was a milestone. I fooled a lot of people with my April 1st post claiming the Skunk Cabbage as Illinois' State flower due to the stench emanating from Springfield. (I was completely unsurprised by Blagojevich's arrest.) I posted my 100th post and went to Spring Fling in Austin. Somehow, I ended up volunteering Chicago to host Spring Fling 2009 (I believe alcohol was involved). My Very Indulgent Spouse (VIS) and I rambled through Trout Park looking at the wildflowers on Earth Day.

May saw the beginning of the garden disappointments, the frozen Tree Peony buds and Cladrastis buds. In response, I bought plants. (Something I highly recommend for all ills.) I also visited Rich's Foxwillow Pines to admire lots of conifers and the biggest Magnolia flower I've ever seen.

Summer happened and it rained a lot. I learned about Carpenter Bees, I visited the open garden day at Hidden Tree and went on a pond tour. I also battled earwigs, slugs, mosquitoes and ants. I visited my favorite nursery, The Growing Place, and bought plants. I had my first success with growing peppers in containers.

It stopped raining in August, the ground turned hard and cracked, so, of course we started digging out the Yews to get rid of the Green Mustache. I started telling the truth about my garden and I bought more plants.

In September, my uncle finished my metal garden sculpture and we were deluged with rain on the 13th, making removal of the Yews much easier, albeit much muddier. I also learned that I suffer from HHSBP (Horticultural Hypochondriac Syndrome By Proxy) when I discovered that none of my Hostas were infected with Hosta Virus X. In celebration, I bought more plants. I visited a local prairie with my daughter's class, where I spotted those native gems, the Fringed and Bottle Gentians. I ended September with a trip to the Morton Arboretum to meet some Chicago garden bloggers, where I bought some bulbs.

In October, I showed off my really big Aster and admired the best autumn color we've seen in years. I installed a new mowing strip and bought more bulbs.

November was very busy with leaf pickup and fence staining. The Squirrelhaven squirrels were well fed.

December arrived in a whirl of snow. I bought Hyacinth kits to give as gifts and kept one for myself. After nearly daily snow shoveling, it all melted away (except for the piles encircling the lawn and the corners where it drifted).

The year turns, the decade wanes, and I'm ready to snuggle under the covers with the seed catalogs to plan for next year's garden and dream of spring. I've met some wonderful, remarkable people this year, and I hope to meet many more of you next year here in Chicago. Happy New Year!

Too Much Christmas

I've always believed that one can be too rich or too thin. I've also come to realize that there is such a thing as too much Christmas. Three back-to-back days of feasting, drinking and opening presents is not a good thing. It's finally over, and I thought that life could start returning to normal. The weather had other ideas - today was anything but normal. In a dramatic change from the sub-zero F lows and tons of snow,(photo taken Christmas Day in the Morning)
came the incredibly warm temperature of 58F, with drifting bands of fog, and pouring rain showers. It made for a weird, eerie scene.Everything was dripping.For the first time in a week, I was able to get to the compost bin and to walk around in the garden.
I was amazed at how quickly the snow disappeared.Most of the snow had melted by sunset. (Actually by the time it got dark, as it was too cloudy and rainy to see any sunset.) Tonight it will again be below freezing and there will be more snow soon. That's okay, I need to burn off some calories shoveling snow.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Actual gingerbread cookies made and decorated by me and the girl.

Imagine me sounding like Judy Garland in "Meet Me in St. Louis." I have to imagine it too, as my voice is still a little hoarse from a bad cold. It seems to happen every year in the midst of the busyness and the cookiepalooza that is my family's Christmas. But the tree and house are decorated, the gifts are (mostly) wrapped, the Christmas cards are (finally) in the mail. I can now concentrate on simply having Christmas. I hope that all of you take some time to just be in the moment and experience a bit of peace and joy... and maybe a cookie or two.

Warmest wishes from all of us at Squirrelhaven!

The Truth About Black Jack

This is installment number 4 in the series where I tell it like it is in my Northwest Suburban Chicago garden. It also ties in with Gardening Gone Wild's plant pick of the month selection. The specimen under the microscope today is Hylotelephium/Sedum 'Black Jack.'

I bought two of them several years ago from the Morton Arborteum's plant sale. It is planted in two different situations: in a container that gets morning light and afternoon shade, and in the ground under a Physocarpus, where it gets afternoon sun.

'Black Jack' burst onto the horticultural scene with great fanfare for its dark purple, almost black foliage. It was discovered as a sport of 'Matrona,' which is a large, wonderful plant. How do I know 'Matrona' is a great plant when I never bought it or had anyone give it to me? Because of major flaw number 1 with 'Black Jack': it has a serious reversion problem.Every year I have to remove sections of it that fail to turn purple. One of them I stuffed into the seashell planter, where it rooted and thrived. This 'Matrona' is now bigger than either of the 'Black Jacks', which brings us to problem number 2, it's not robust.

'Black Jack's' most damning flaw, however, is that its foliage just doesn't look as good as other Sedums. Sometimes, a picture is worth a thousand words. I'm so disgusted with this performance that I'm thinking of ripping it all out and replacing it with this:I bought a pot of this mystery Sedum at Deep Cut Perennials north of Woodstock, Illinois. This photo is of the plant growing in the display garden. The flower heads may be smaller, but that foliage looks great, which is pretty much the whole point of growing Sedum.

The Journal

Elizabeth at Gardening While Intoxicated has raised the question, to journal or not to journal? I didn't feel that I could give adequate attention to this question in a comment, so the time has come to post about my journal, that odd compendium of blooming times, frost dates, house repairs and mental state. For some gardeners, blogging has replaced journal writing, but not for me. The historian in me delights in the physical record, the artifact that my completed journal has become. Yes, that right, I am on my second 10-year journal.(Please excuse the stains on the cover of the completed journal. That's probably liquid fertilizer.) I use the same one as those serious garden journalers Carol, Dee & Kathy, the big one from Lee Valley. Here's a sample page.Most pages do not have something written in each entry. Sometimes an entry will run beyond its alloted space. That's okay, I don't need it to look neat and perfect.

On January 19, 1996, the temperature soared to 61F, and I wrote: "It's amazing how green & fresh the digitalis [sic] leaves look. One of the alchemilla [sic] has new leaves underneath the large old leaves" The next day, I recorded the high and low as 13F and 4F, and wrote: "I just ordered a bunch of plants - it's the only way to get through the winter. That & going somewhere warm in February. I hope the plants didn't suffer too much shock in that 50 [degree] temperature drop." Then on February 3, 1996, I wrote: "record breaking cold. I refuse to leave the house" when it got down to -22F.

In the bad drought year 2005, I recorded the day our village enacted a total watering ban. At one point I wrote, "Summer continues on its brutal, relentless course." A few days later, when the temperature soared to 102F, I commented, "Hotter than blue blazes!" By the beginning of August, I noted that many plants were struggling with the drought, but the surprising thing was how well most of the Hostas were doing. Would I have remembered that if I hadn't recorded it?

Even aside from the record breaking events, there's a world of meaning in the following entry communicated through my handwriting:Then there are the entries I can barely read, such as one on January 10, mistakenly dated 2000, instead of 2001, with the 1 written over the 0: "I'm so tired because a certain baby will not sleep well at night." My handwriting on most of the entries from that time is similarly scribbly. There are also odd little asides such as this one from May 30, 2003: "(can't write - children fighting)".
A journal is only as useful as what is put into it. In addition to recording the daily weather statistics, I record major changes and improvements to the property, such as a new roof, and when large trees have been cut down. I try to note when each plant comes into and goes out of bloom. This is useful for planning plant combinations and comparing weather conditions, as are the dates I turn off or on the heat and the air conditioning for the season. The journal entries tell the true story of plants which photographs don't. I note when only one of three plants is still blooming and whether pests have damaged blooms or foliage. I also try to memorialize all plant purchases and from where the plant came. This has been a great help in learning the names of all my plants. If I forget one, I just look it up in the journal. It also serves as a reminder of which plants I've lost.

Some entries are self-explanatory. On a day when the high was 68F and the low was 51F, I wrote "And this is June?" On January 7, 2006, is the entry "What is that bright thing in the sky? (The sun?)" There are similarly snarky comments scattered throughout the journals, which hopefully someday, after I'm gone, my children will read, and they will laugh and remember.

So if you're on the fence about starting a journal, I say go for it. I like the 10 year journal because it's easy to compare blooming dates and temperatures over the years. But a journal doesn't have to be a bound 10 year thing like mine, a notebook would work as well. Now is a great time to get one to be ready to start writing on January 1.

Signature Plants?

Enough of the sturm und drang, I'm done whining, Frances! It's time to answer the gardening question posed by Tina of In the Garden: what is your signature plant? I just can't decide. As if I could limit myself to just one. As should be abundantly clear by now, I'm about as minimalist as a Victorian parlor.

A signature plant should be something intimately associated with a particular garden, blog and gardener, so that, on seeing this plant, that gardener immediately comes to mind. Plants used in a blog's header might be considered "signature plants." My first photo header was of Symphyotricum leave var. purpuratum/Aster laevis 'Bluebird.'This is a fitting signature plant, as it is a prominent feature of the front garden, and I have raved about it repeatedly. It is also purple, the dominant color of my garden.

The second photo header was of the native Wild Ginger, Asarum canadense.This makes an excellent signature plant, as it is the main groundcover of the Woodland garden, is scattered throughout the gardens and has even shown up in the faux-prairie front garden. It is a constant presence until covered by the snow.

A better choice of signature plant than either of these two is my late summer header photo subject, Anemone x hybrida 'Andrea Atkinson.'The bold foliage is a prominent player in the Woodland garden from late spring until it is dwarfed by the exuberant, towering blooms, which are the central feature of that garden from August until November. I've ranted about 'Andrea Atkinson' and I've raved. It also is an uncommon cultivar, which makes it more readily identifiable with me, my blog and my garden.

I just can't decide, especially when I recall the prominence of and emphasis given to all of the Hellebores. They are the stars of the garden from the time the snow melts in early spring until the start of summer. One even made an encore appearance. Their architectural foliage sets off other plants all season long and provides winter interest in the absence of snow. I took so many photos of all the different blooms last year.I had intended to do an all-Hellebore post.

Maybe my signature plant is the yellow-foliaged Columbine that I'm breeding (Aquilegia vulgaris species).Its bright foliage reappears throughout the back borders and the Woodland garden. I use it in foliage combinations with so many different plants. It combines my two favorite plant attributes: chartreuse foliage and purple flowers.

I just can't decide. I'm leaving it up to you to tell me which is my signature plant. Or is there some other plant instead?

It's Going to be a Long Winter

How cold is it? It's so cold I couldn't take the garbage out. When I tried to get the garbage bin out to take it to the curb this morning, I couldn't open the gate. The latch was frozen. The garbage collectors will not pick up bags; all garbage must be in the special, wheeled bins. I'm embarrassed to admit that I ended up putting my bag into my neighbors' bin. That was when it was 2F/-16C degrees out there. It got up to a whopping 16F/-8.8C. It hasn't been this cold since February 19.

Already I've had to chop ice on the driveway. I had enough of that last year, and it's only the first week of December. Already the marauding deer have made their way through the neighbors' front and back yards and into my front yard. But it appears that the Plantskydd I sprayed on the Yew has deterred them for now. Stay tuned for further Yew updates. Now where did I put that long underwear?

Squirrelhaven's 1st Snowfall*

It started snowing and blowing yesterday, and this morning I awoke to the sight of fresh snow. It has a magic to transform the garden from blah to ahh.

My favorite plant in the snow is the Pagoda Dogwood, Cornus alternifolia.The snow highlights its beautiful branch structure. Underneath it stand the seedheads of the native Bugbane, Actaea racemosa.
The leaves of Clematis 'Betty Corning' are still green underneath the snow. Poor "Betty" wasn't ready for the gardening season to end. It can be as abrupt a shock for plants as for gardeners. Just yesterday I noticed that the Mum was still blooming. I'm assuming it's done, as the plant isn't even visible underneath the snow.
The new sculpture is living up to expectations. I commissioned this to provide winter interest and to camoflage the chainlink fence in the winter.
Although they're as common as dirt in Chicagoland, Arborvitaes (Thuja occidentalis) shine with a white frosting. They provide a backdrop to the flowering plants all season and wait patiently for their time in the spotlight.
I'm still trying to incorporate more plants for winter interest. This 'Black Jack' Sedum stands up well in the snow.Unfortunately, the prairie plants of the front garden don't fare as well.At least the Box hedge backing them up looks good all winter.
It's too bad I can't work up the same enthusiasm for the second, third or sixth snowfall as for the first. I probably would, if I didn't have to shovel it off the driveway.

This post is part of the Garden Bloggers' First Snowfall Project. To find other gardens nestled beneath their first snows, check out Nancy Bond of Soliloquy's First Snowfall Project.

*This is not the first snowfall, but it is the first measurable, shovelable one.

Lo, How a Rose Ain't Blooming - a December Muse

Lo, how a Rose ain't blooming
on sturdy stems of green.
At Christmas time around here,
the blooms are never seen.
Instead of flowers white,
Beneath the evergreen leaves,
the buds remain curled tight.

This is my version of the classic carol about the famed Christmas Rose, the Helleborus niger. All of my H. niger plants produce large, beautiful white blooms just in time for ... Easter.

December 1 is the start of meteorological winter here in Chicagoland, and it looks like it today. We've picked up 3 inches already this morning and more is coming down. Fortunately, the garden is ready, and I can just enjoy the beauty of the first accumulating snow.

Visit Carolyn Gail at Sweet Home & Garden Chicago for all the Garden Bloggers' Muse Day posts.