The Dead Zone

Only dried stems of lilies remain in The Dead Zone.

Hello, readers, is I, Sasha Fatál, Mistress of Slightly Overcast, here to tell you Halloween Horror story.  Is all more terrifying because is true.  Mr. McGregor's Daughter types while I tell story.
What? You think I have funny accent?  I've been told I sound like cartoon character who chases moose and squirrel.  Nonsense.  I sound like female Svengoolie.   I've also been told I could be mistaken for Elvira in very dark alley on moonless night during power outage.  But I have strayed from path (always bad thing to do)! Back to story. Beware, this is tale of tribulations and tears.

It all begins on dark and stormy night.  Well, no, it wasn't.  It was winter, and blizzard was sweeping across frozen tundra.  Okay, no tundra in Chicago suburbs, but was cold, and a gardener, call her "MMD," was dreaming of spring with a plant catalogue.  Wouldn't it be wonderful, she thought, to have Cornus kousa on south side of driveway to make shade for cars.  So, MMD ordered 'Beni Fuji'.
Time goes by, snow melts, little tree arrives.  MMD goes out to plant it.  She looks at ground and smiles.  (Poor misguided fool! Hah!)  Lots of weeds in lawn.  MMD knows if weeds grow well, soil is good.

She digs hole, kills grass and weeds with newspaper.  She puts down mulch.  Little tree grows.  Not much, but it lives through next winter.  But tree is lonely.  MMD gets rose to keep it company.  Then she gets lavender to keep rose company.  It starts to look like garden.

Move ahead to warm day, late summer.  MMD finds treasure at garden center, Eryngium 'Jade Frost'.   Does she need plant? Hah, who cares!  She gets plant, brings it home and must find place for it.  She thinks, aha, perfect place behind 'Beni Fuji'.  (That's what she thinks, but she is wrong, you find out later.)  MMD expands bed, puts in mowing strip, plants Eryngium in fall.

Eryngium survives winter and grows.  It blooms beautiful blue.  It looks sad and lonely.  MMD knows what's wrong.  It needs two friends.  Ah, you catch on fast - yes always three in stories.  But does MMD run out to get more right away?  No, she thinks that can wait.  And so fall comes, then winter with lots of snow.  And then spring, starts to rain.  It rains and rains and rains.   So, in June, she get two more Eryngium and plant them in nice way behind first Eryngium.  She also got another Geranium 'Bob's Blunder' to go with them.  Bob's blunder was letting MMD buy his plant.  (Hey, no need to throw things, I just tell truth.)  MMD thinks no problem, lots of rain this year.  Poor fool! Bwha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
Sure, everything look fine at end of June.

Geranium 'Bob's Blunder' with Hydrangea macrophylla 'PIIHM-I' (Twist-n-Shout)  in front, with  Lilium  'Cobra',  Eryngium 'Jade Frost',  Consolida ambigua (larkspur), and Arrhenatherum elatius bulbosa 'Variegata', backed up by Cornus kousa and 'Hidcote' lavender

But then rain stops, and MMD abandons garden to go to Buffalo.  Big mistake.  First one, then second Eryngium start to struggle.

When she gets back, MMD waters new plants with can filled with rainwater.  Is not enough, but she don't think to get out hose.  By end of July, it looks like this.

'Cobra' lilies bloom while Eryngium 'Jade Frost' struggles

I circle dying Eryngium.  What? You don't like me writing on your photos? Too bad!  Sorry,  I go off path again.  Those lilies MMD planted last fall.

No rain comes.  Ground is parched and cracked.  Finally, MMD gets out hose, gets neighbors' car all wet.  But that's another story.  Too bad is too late for plants.  By fall, is clear Geranium and two Eryngium are dead.  Only one Eryngium lives.  No, is not youngest like in fairy story, is oldest.  See, this true story.

MMD calls it "The Dead Zone," place nothing grows, not even weeds.  (Look at top photo.)   I think is her fault for not watering right, she blames ground.  What do you think?  Is worth it to try again next year the Eryngium?

Anyway, I hope you like story.  Happy Halloween!  Don't eat too many candy corn, they make you sick.

Going Out In A Blaze Of Glory

Cotinus 'Ancot' and Physocarpus opulifolius 'Monlo' provide red fall color

This is it, this is as good as it gets here at Squirrelhaven.  Autumnal color in the Northwest suburbs of Chicago is past its peak, but not so on my street.  For some reason, the trees and shrubs here always color up later.  The street bed, above, is now dominated by the blazing reds of the Cotinus 'Ancot' (Golden Spirit smokebush), the red seedheads of Hylotelephium 'Becka' (Sedum Autumn Light), the foliage of Penstemon 'Dark Towers' and the Physocarpus opulifolius 'Monlo' (Diablo ninebark).

All it took was a little rain, a hard frost and voila!

  Hammamelis 'Sunburst' gives a shot of orange

the witch hazel (Hammamelis 'Sunburst') has gone from green to full color.

And finally, a shrub that most gardeners think of only for spring interest, which is a shame.

Forsythia species

It's a Forsythia.  I wish I knew which cultivar, as it reliably colors up every fall in my Zone 5 garden.

This post is part of Three for Thursday, sponsored by Cindy at From My Corner of Katy.  Are your shrubs flaunting their fall finery?

Last Wildflower Standing

the plant formerly known as Aster laevis 'Bluebird'

In the twilight of the gardening year, one native plant soldiers bravely on, the ex-aster laevis, Symphyotrichum laeve 'Bluebird'.  The bees and other pollinators have been feasting on it and sleeping in it.
The poor bumblebees were desperately clinging to it during yesterday's wicked wind.


We now interrupt this post for a short video of said wind.


 This wasn't the worst of it, but I refused to stand out there while it was really wild. The other "tombstones" got blown down, and that last one ended up by the side of the driveway by evening.
We now return to our regularly scheduled post.

The pollinators prefer this ex-aster to all others, practically pushing each other out of the way.

bumblebees on S. laeve 'Bluebird'

'Bluebird' starts blooming a bit later than the New England ex-asters and blooms longer.  It looks particularly good with prairie grasses.

'Bluebird' with Sporabolus heteroleptsis, Phlox pilosa, and the blooms of sweet alyssum

It does not go quietly into that long goodnight. The foliage turns brilliant red before it fades and dies.

Thanks goes to Gail of Clay and Limestone for hosting Wildflower Wednesday.

Happiness Is....

rain.  At long last, the rain fell on Squirrelhaven, to the tune of about an inch for the weekend.  The plants and the gardener are very happy.

Hydrangea macrophylla 'Penny Mac' provides a dramatic example.

before

and that was after using the sprinkler, and

after 

Granted, a mophead hydrangea is a drama queen, but other plants have visibly responded to much needed rain.

I don't like to use the sprinkler, but it's been so dry, I feared that trees and shrubs would enter dormancy dessicated, which can lead to premature death.

Finally, I can pull weeds again.  I even planted all 100 of the Crocus tommasinianus I ordered this fall.   There's more rain in the forecast for tonight and tomorrow, so I'm optimistic that the dry pattern has finally broken.

Three For Thursday

Ceratotheca triloba

For Nan Ondra, of Hayefield House, who sent me the seeds, the first bloom of Ceratotheca triloba, the South African foxglove.  It's an annual, which makes my delay in getting it settled in a large container completely inexcusable.  At least it bloomed before a killing frost.

For Helen, of Toronto Gardens,  who wondered whether the Heptacodium calyxes were showy from a distance.

Heptacodium miconiodes with calyxes

I hope that's from far enough away.  If not, I'll take another photo.


For Monica, the Garden Faerie, who asked to see the welding tools I used to make my sculpture.

For cutting it out, the plasma cutter,


and for adding detail and putting it together, the welder.  The welders are in little cubicles with curtains to shield the eyes of those not welding.  I forgot to take photos of the helmet for plasma cutting and the helmet for welding.  They are different.  The welding helmet is bigger, heavier and darker.

Three for Thursday is the brain child of Cindy at From My Corner of Katy.

Wordless Wednesday: Autumn Mist

Picture This: Fall on a Flatbed

Anemone x hybrida 'Party Dress,' surrounded by leaves of Heuchera 'Citronelle,' blooms of  Symphyotrichum novae-angliae, Diascia, and Callibrachoa, and leaves of Hosta 'June' and Oxalis

Gardening Gone Wild's Picture This photo contest this month is for scanned images of plants, as popularized by judge Craig Cramer of Ellis Hollow. While I love the look of scanned images, don't expect to see any more from me for a very long time (if ever). I'm too much of a perfectionist, and it was tedious and time consuming in the extreme to edit out all the pollen that ended up in the images from the flowers. I might scan leaves and other less messy things, but flowers are too much trouble.  The ex-asters were the worst offenders.

Here are the other scans I made.

Fruits and vegetables are also less messy than flowers, so make acceptable subjects.

 yellow and 'Chocolate Beauty' sweet peppers, with jalapeno peppers, asters and goldenrod

More Than Just Mums: October 2010 Bloom Day

Hylotelephium 'Becka' (Sedum Autumn Light) with Symphyotrichum oblongifolium 'October Skies'

It's the 15th of the month, that day when Carol, of May Dreams Gardens, asks us to show what's blooming in our gardens.  Despite two very light frosts on the front lawn, everything is still chugging along, much more is in bloom than last October, but not as much as October 2008, but more on that later.  It's been like summer the past week, with highs in the 80sF/27+C here in Chicagoland, but fortunately, it has returned to normal now with highs in the 60sF/16+C.

First, the new bloomers:  all those ex-asters that were too late for last month's Bloom Day.

Symphyotrichum novae-angliae 'Honeysong Pink', S. n-a 'Hella Lacy', S. laeve, and Malva sylvestris 'Zebrina'

The Symphyotrichum novae-angliae (New England asters) and Symphyotrichum laeve (smooth blue aster) are in full bloom now.

The towering Aster tataricus

has reached over 6 feet this year.

The Actaeas almost didn't make it into a Bloom Day post this year.  For the first time ever, both Actaea 'Black Negligee' and 'James Compton' bloomed.

Actaea 'James Compton'

The garden has smelled so wonderfully grapey.  I'm sad to see them fading.

I found a solution to the flopping of Aconitum carmichaelii (monkshood):

grow it up a tree. I divided the beast last spring, planting a piece under the Cornus 'Rutban' (Aurora®). It used the tree like a giant stake, to reach the dizzying height of over six feet.  It seems very happy there.

Along with the monkshood, the woodland garden is dominated by the Japanese anemones,  Anemone x hybrida 'Andrea Atkinson'

and 'Party Dress',

and the toadlilies (Tricyrtis).

Tricyrtis 'Tojen'

While not technically blooms, the calyxes of Heptacodium miconiodes are close enough.

It finally finished blooming last week.  The blue flower underneath it is another division of the Aconitum; clearly, it's not nearly as happy as the ones in the woodland garden.

I just had to show this little petunia the boy gave me for Mother's Day.

It has shrugged off heat, drought, frost and complete neglect, making a flashy groundcover underneath the Baptisia and Panicum virgatum in the bed by the street with the first sculpture.  It's a Proven Winners plant, but I've lost the tag, so I don't know which one.

Instead of showing Geranium 'Bob's Blunder' again (it still looks amazing), I'm featuring the new flush of blooms on Geranium 'Blogold' (Blue Sunrise).

It wasn't happy with the heat and dryness of summer.

Tuesday, I got a big surprise when I glanced at Clematis 'Venosa Violacea'.

I hadn't even noticed a bud, and there was this bloom.  Better late and deformed than never, I guess.

The lavender is back in full bloom.

Lavandula 'Hidcote'

That's the last of the Phlox paniculata 'Red Riding Hood' behind it.

And finally, the mum.

It's no longer the last plant to bloom at Squirrelhaven. The Aconitum fisherii I planted last spring is still in bud.  I love still having something to which to look forward.

Not pictured, but still blooming well:
Eurybia divaricata (white wood aster)
Fuschia species
Geranium 'Bob's Blunder'

Geranium 'Gerwat' (Rozanne)

Lobularia maritima

Symphyotrichum laeve 'Bluebird'

Tricyrtis 'Gilt Edge'

Tricyrtis 'Gilty Pleasure'

Zinnia 'Green Envy'

Also blooming with just a couple of blooms:
Actaea 'Black Negligee'
Callirhoe involucrata
Campanula 'Samantha'
Campanula persicifolia 'Grandiflora Alba'
Caryopteris 'Janice'
Clematis 'Fairy Blue' (Crystal Fountain) in puff stage
Clematis 'Rhapsody' (one bloom)
Corydalis 'Berry Exciting'
Dianthus 'Cranberry Ice'
Echinacea purpurea
Geranium nodosum 'Svelte Lilac'
Hylotelephium species
Phlox paniculata 'Gold Mine'
Solidago 'Dansolitlem' (Little Lemon)
Solidago 'Fireworks'
Symphyotrichum lateriflorus 'Snow Flurry'

I would have had more in bloom this month, had there been any rain for the past two weeks, and more than only 1.5" in the past month.  It's been so dry, I've had to drag the hose around.  Normally, I try not to use the hose to water, instead relying on the water from the rainbarrel.  I had to take more drastic action, as trees and shrubs are in danger of dying if they go into winter without adequate moisture, especially conifers.  Blog Action Day's theme this year is water.  It's important for gardeners to conserve water, using rainbarrels as much as possible, watering wisely, and planting things that are suitable for the climate and soil conditions.  Because of my village's watering restrictions and the limits of my rainbarrel, I am going to lose quite a few perennials I planted this year.  Most of the grass seed I sowed this fall will never germinate because the rains never came, and I refuse to water the lawn.   Better to lose some plants and part of the lawn than have the aquifers go dry.

An Interview with Chuck Sambuchino (that Garden Gnome guy)

Chuck Sambuchino is the author of the recently released book "How to Survive a Garden Gnome Attack," which I reviewed on Carpe Geum.  After the reading the book, I had questions for the author, which he graciously answered.  He also supplied all the images for this post.

First off, I just want to tell you how much I enjoyed your book. It appealed to the sick, twisted side of my nature, which got me to thinking about how I got that way, which lead me to wonder how you got that way too. So -

Question 1) What were your influences growing up?
a. Did you read Mad Magazine?
b. Did you watch Monty Python?

Neither, really, but I have always been a movie junkie, so I grew up enjoying comedy movies—everything from "Tootsie" to "Army Of Darkness" to "There's Something About Mary." My biggest influences have always been my friends. I enjoy surrounding myself with people who can make me laugh.

2) What is the root of your obsession (if I may use that term) with garden gnomes?

You may use that term – sure. The root of my interest in them is simply that they creep me the heck out. Garden gnomes have always been tacky and frightening to me, and I finally decided to put some thoughts down on paper. The response to this little book has been overwhelming! Before the book even came out, Reader’s Digest came a-calling and said they wanted to excerpt it. Right then, I started to realize that I had tapped into something very big.


3) Why do you think people keep and collect them?

These people are a little mentally imbalanced and were possibly subject to Government LSD programs in the 1960s. That, or the recent sweeping PR campaign run by gnomes (to make them seem like happy travel companions) is actually working. Don’t be fooled! More than 900 people have died over the years because of garden gnome attacks, and I (along with my trusty sledgehammer) are in the middle of intense effort to educate people on the dangers of the common garden gnome (gnomus hortus).


4) How many gnomes do you have?

I think the question you want to ask is “How many SEDATED gnomes do you have?” And the answer is 5 or 6. I take them around to educate people, sometimes in cages, sometimes under heavy sedation. (Note: I am a trained professional. Do not handle garden gnomes at home with your bare hands unless you want to die!)


5) How many gnomes have you killed?

I’d say maybe 12 or so. I don’t get into many confrontations anymore—neither inside nor outside the house—because gnomes fear me. There are plenty of easier targets in the neighborhood and the world. They’re better off taking their little knives and spears to another household. If they come see me, they will be gno more. Mwahahahaha.


6) The attacks seem to be increasing; do you think it has anything to do with the Mayan calendar ending in 2012?

Possibly! But I think garden gnomes are proliferating at an alarming rate. They’re freaking everywhere, people! In stores, on lawns, in office cubicles. Where does the madness end? At this rate, garden gnomes will outnumber human beings within 20 years, and when that happens, the sh*t will hit the fan.


7) Will there be a followup book on pink flamingos?

You know, I’m getting this question quite a bit. I’m not sure pink flamingos touch as deep a nerve as the garden gnome, but I am more than happy to run the book by my agent!

Chuck Sambuchino is an editor and a writer. He works for Writer's Digest Books and edits Guide To Literary Agents  as well as Children's Writer's & Illustrator's Market. His humor book, How To Survive A Garden Gnome Attack, was released in Sept. 2010 and has been featured by Reader's Digest, The Huffington Post and AOL News. Besides that, he is a produced playwright, magazine freelancer, husband, cover band guitarist, chocolate chip cookie fiend, and owner of a flabby-yet-lovable dog named Graham.

10/10/10 -Becoming the Greenwoman

10/10/10 sounds like the scores at a diving competition back when the judges held up scorecards, the perfect 10.  So in honor of the date, I'm unveiling my new garden sculpture.  Is it a perfect 10?  It's hard to judge one's own work, as I see all the flaws and imperfections, but seeing it in the garden, it's as close to perfect as can be.

It's not completely finished, it needs a bit of sanding and polishing.

The welding marks will fade, the metal will rust, and the vision will be complete.

I was inspired by Bernini's "Apollo and Daphne" at the Borghese Museum in Rome, but instead of Daphne fleeing something, she's joyfully becoming an oak tree, turning into the Greenwoman.

So I've combined Greek and Celtic mythology (the Green Man) to find a deeper meaning about the interconnectedness of life, the joy of plants and gardens, and becoming one with the planet.

I Notice These Things: Three for Thursday

Under a relentless blue sky with no clouds, I notice these things:
some plants reach their peak of beauty,

Aralia racemosa showing its autumnal color

then quickly collapse into decay;

crouching like a supplicant before the bounty of fall's flowers I become one with the bees,

metallic green bee on Symphyotrichum laeve 'Bluebird'

 and notice that they favor the flowers in the sun over their sisters in the shade;


I walk in the morning chill,

and am mesmerized by the way steam rises and drifts over the pond.

Thanks goes to Cindy at From My Corner of Katy for hosting Three for Thursday.

October Crept In

Cornus alternifolia 'W. Stackman' (Golden Shadows™)

There was no frost this morning, despite last night's advisories.  Each day of October without frost is gift to the garden.  It's also a reprieve for the gardener; I haven't potted up and brought in the duranta.  The fuschia is still sitting out in the garden, but it's back in full bloom, enjoying the cooler weather.  I guess I'll just have to start schlepping it in and out now.  Nearly everything that has to go in the ground is now in the ground, although I picked up another Hosta 'Blue Mouse Ears' on deep discount today.  I'll find a home for it somewhere.  There is only one plant left still to bloom here at Squirrelhaven, the Korean mum.

It seems like I have less and less time to spend in the garden these days, even as the garden chores pile up.  At least I can enjoy the beauty of the colors of the fall garden as I glance out the window, or pull into the garage.

Geranium maculatum and Maianthemum racemosum (Smilacina racemosa) showing  fall color

The foliage of the 'Cobra' Lily has turned yellow, the first of all the lilies here.

 'Cobra' Lily with Twist-n-Shout hydrangea

Sorry, I just can't resist one more cabbage shot.

Soon my bulbs will arrive, and then the fun really begins.

It's Not a Yellow Lady Bug

spotted cucumber beetle (Diabrotica undecimpunctata howardi)

The Japanese beetles and earwigs are gone, you heave a sigh of relief.   But don't relax - just when you thought the garden was safe, here come the cucumber beetles to eat virtually any yellow flower.  They migrate from the South, arriving in the Northern States in midsummer.  These nasty little pests resemble slim, yellow lady bugs with their small, spotted bodies.  I don't grow cucumbers, but that hasn't stopped hordes of them from descending on the Solidago 'Fireworks' (goldenrod).  They're also feasting on the big ex-asters, Symphyotrichum novae-angliae (pictured above), Symphyotrichum oblongifolius 'October Skies', and Symphyotrichum laeve 'Bluebird' (smooth blue aster).  What's curious is that they don't seem interested in a seedling of 'Bluebird' with slightly smaller flowers.  They also don't bother Solidago 'Dansolitlem' (Little Lemon™),  Symphyotrichum ericoides 'Snowflurry', or the wildings out back, all of which have small flowers.

Take a good look at your larger flowered asters.  If the ray petals are missing or mangled, you probably have an infestation of cucumber beetles. I've been hand-catching and squishing the little buggers, but there has to be a better way, short of growing only small flowered ex-asters and goldenrods.  The only suggestions for organic controls I've come across are floating row covers (not going to work for ornamental plants), and yellow sticky traps, which I fear might trap bees.