Trout lily: a different Erythronium

Erythroniums aren't the best known garden plants, and the most popular ones, Erythronium dens-canis, the dog-toothed violet, and E. americanum , aren't native to my corner of Northern Illinois. But under the trees in local wild areas, one can often see a pool of palely mottled leaves in spring.  If conditions are right, there may even be little white blooms, the hallmark of Erythronium albidum, the trout lily. Unlike so many plants with the common epithet "lily," Erythronium albidum is a member of the Liliaceae family. It is difficult to find for purchase, despite being native to most of the Eastern United States. I got mine from Arrowhead Alpines, but it's not among Arrowhead's listings this year.

It's not a big, splashy bloom, or a statuesque plant, or one with interesting foliage all season. This 4-6" Erythronium sprouts, 

blooms,

then fades and disappears very rapidly, lasting only a couple of weeks. Last year, they bloomed from April 2 through April 16. The blooms don't even stay open all the time, closing at night and opening with the sun.

Erythronium albidum is also very slow to increase. So why bother growing it?

I grow it because it's such a simple, charming plant.

It reminds me of a very tiny Easter lily. Trout lily also provides nectar and pollen for a variety of bees and early butterflies.
Trout lily prefers dappled sunlight in soil that is enriched with leaf mold. It is adaptable to various soil conditions and moisture, and grows in Zones 3 to 8.

This post is a late entry for Wildflower Wednesday, hosted by Gail of Clay and Limestone.

The Allure of Moss

I'm thinking about moss. I started noticing moss in gardens on the tours in and around Buffalo last summer. Moss, cool, woodsy, lush, green moss, perfect for a woodland garden. Then I saw pictures of the winter interest garden Helen Yoest helped install for the North Carolina State Fair. The finishing touch was the planting of several different mosses. Of course moss has been on my radar since Frances posted about it at Fairegarden back in 2009. (See also More Moss Magic.)

There already is moss here at Squirrelhaven,

but mostly in the lawn, and not nearly enough in the woodland garden, where it would show to great effect. I need to figure out where to install a small mossy area. Then I just need set up some chunks of concrete and logs on which to grow it, and lift some of that moss out of the lawn and move it. Some for the little fairy box garden would be nice too. I can see it now...

Indoor Winter Activities for Housebound Gardeners

Cornus alternifolia in full bloom in the woodland garden in May

It's the middle of January, the mercury is hovering in the low teens Fahrenheit, and the garden is sleeping beneath a blanket of snow. What's a gardener to do? In addition to reading about gardens and gardening, it's a good time to start thinking about next year's garden. The best way to do that is to review last year's garden. I've immersed myself in all the images I took of Squirrelhaven during 2010, trying to make sense of it all. What needs replacing, what can be tweaked, what didn't work? Clearly, more study is needed.

I've also joined the American Clematis Society (ACS). Every year, it sends its members a Clematis blooming chart, to record when each cultivar blooms. The ACS hopes this data will provide accurate blooming times for each cultivar in each part of the United States. As a new member, I received only the new blooming chart for 2011, to fill in as each of my Clematis blooms. I could just wait and go along with the program, but that would be no fun, so I made a copy of the chart, altered the date, and am now filling it in for last year, with the help of my trusty garden journal.

 I made a muck of a start on it, but it's nothing a little correction fluid can't fix. This should keep me busy for a while.

And if you're a fan like me, there's always football. Go Bears!

What are you doing to get through the winter?

Wordless Wednesday: A Midwinter Day's Dream

Bloom Day January 2011

Oxalis triangularis subsp. papilionaceae 'Atropurpurea' a/k/a Oxalis regnellii

Welcome to the first Bloom Day of the new year.  Bloom Day is the monthly showing of what's happening (or not happening) in the garden that Carol, of May Dreams Gardens, hosts.  As there is snow on the ground and the temperatures have been in the 20sF/-6C all week, nothing visible is happening out in the garden.  Thank goodness for oxalis, which has been blooming continuously inside.  The above image might be my entry in this month's Gardening Gone Wild photo contest, Macro in a Mason Jar, judged by photographer/philosopher David Perry.  I say might, because it's not exactly what I wanted to do, but I've lost my point and shoot camera (it's somewhere in the house).  If I find it before the deadline, I'll do a better image.  This image was shot with my DSLR, for which I do not have a macro lens.

Happy Bloom Day!

Schizachyrium 'Carousel', a better little bluestem

mood violet

Little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium)  is an adaptable native grass that is perfect for small or large Midwestern gardens. I've grown the straight species for years. Last year I planted one Schizachyrium 'Carousel' that I received as a  free* trial plant.  It's a Chicagoland Grows introduction.  After observing it in the garden for a year, I am impressed with this cultivar.

It sprouts with glaucous foliage that sets off any neighboring plants and remains that way all summer.

Schizachyrium 'Carousel' screening Baptisia 'Midnight Prairie Blues' in June

I planted it in front of a Baptisia under my first sculpture.

August 2010

It blooms in August.

Schizachyrium 'Carousel' in bloom

The flowers aren't as interesting as the seedheads.

Schizachyrium 'Carousel' seedheads

By October, it is at its showiest.

October 2010, without supplement watering

Unfortunately, last fall was unusually dry, but when there's adequate moisture, the fall foliage sings.

Schizachyrium 'Carousel' in fall color

The above photo has not been colored enhanced, that's how it looked in September 2009, with the foliage showing orange, red and purple.   Compared with the straight species, it is shorter, much more colorful, and stands up slightly better in snow.  By winter, the foliage has turned buff, and stands out well against the snow.

Schizachyrium scoparium 'Carousel' is suitable in zones 3-9,  in full sun to part shade.  It is drought tolerant, clump forming, and grows to 30" tall and wide.  It's worth searching for and planting, for year 'round beauty.

*My evaluation of this plant has been in no way influenced by the fact that I didn't pay for it. I'd be willing to buy it, as it is, simply, a wonderful plant.

See You in Seattle!

Here it is, the official blog of Garden Bloggers' Fling 2011.  It's being held July 22-25 in (obviously) Seattle.  I've always wanted to go to Seattle and see the gardens there, but the best reason to attend a Fling is to hang out with some of the most fun and friendly people on the planet.  I'm looking forward to meeting cohosts Debra Prinzing, Lorene Edwards Forkner, and Marty Wingate.  If you've never been to a Fling, don't worry about not knowing anyone.  I knew no one when I went to my first Fling and came home with lots of new friends.  You will too.  I'll even sit next to you on the bus if you want.

The Catalog Experience

Call me a Luddite, but I like print catalogues.  It's hard to curl up in bed at night with a computer, and you can't dog ear pages and smear highlighter across the computer screen.  I also revel in the experience of page after page of plant porn.  Sometimes, the images achieve the level of art, such as the pictures in the Comstock Seed catalogue from the 200 hundred-year-old Comstock, Ferre & Co. (which was recently purchased by Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds [which also has a beautiful catalog]).

 But even if it's just well-written descriptions, I'm never as happy as when I have a new catalogue to peruse.

Catalogues are in part responsible for my complete transformation into a gardener.  While I was living at home after I finished school, I used to look at the plant catalogues my mom got in the mail.  I was seduced not just by the plant porn, but by the catalogues themselves.  At that time, Klehm's Song Sparrow was just Klehm's, in nearby South Barrington, with a catalogue of pen and ink drawings and enchanting descriptions.  I still love Klehm's, even though they sold the South Barrington property and moved to Wisconsin.  Their current catalogue is filled with enticing color images.

Catalogues greatly facilitate armchair gardening.  I can dream of how a new plant would look in my garden, completely disregarding the reality of the conditions, or what's already there.  It's a way to dream big, winter gardening dreams.  Badly written catalogues, or those with terrible images are a great source of amusement for those with a warped sense of humor.  ("Adaptable?  Of course it's adaptable, it's a weed." Or "No way, that flower is so not that color!")

Most catalogues are straightforward affairs, and I miss the old Heronswood catalogues, with their essays and quirky plant descriptions.

a much-thumbed old Heronswood Nursery catalogue

 I saved some of them and am still kicking myself for recycling others.  Another of my old favorites that is no longer available is the Shady Oaks hosta catalogue.  I used to get it when they still sold retail.  I've kept a few, as a resource of images and descriptions of Hostas.

Besides Klehm's, other current plant catalogue favorites are Plant Delights (worth it for the cover alone), and Arrowhead Alpines, for the incredible selection of cold hardy plants.  I envy Joseph of Greensparrow Gardens, who got to visit the Arrowhead Alpines nursery.  I also used to get Forest Farm's catalogue, but they stopped sending it to me.  What a great read that thick catalogue is; just dive into the maple listings if you have insomnia.  I bet you don't get halfway through them before you nod off.  I've requested this year's catalogue.  It's free to U.S. residents.  For sheer garden porn, it's hard to beat the White Flower Farm catalogue.  Large, fairly accurate color images of plants in gardens, in vases, in attractive combinations to inspire and delight.

If I didn't get catalogues, my mailbox would be sadly empty in January.  Have you seen any particularly beautiful or inspiring catalogues?  Which are you favorites to read?  I need more.

3 For Thursday: When the Snow All Melted

Baptisia 'Purple Smoke'

It's 3 for Thursday, the any three things meme started by Cindy of From My Corner of Katy.  This week, I'm looking back at New Year's Eve 2010, when the temperature soared to over 50F/10C and it rained, making all the beautiful, insulating snow disappear.   I will admit that it was nice going outside with only a sweat jacket on instead of a winter coat, but I worry about the garden now that the cold has returned, but the snow has not.

Here are just a few of the plants I've not seen for several weeks.  Above is the blackened foliage of Baptisia against the backdrop of little bluestem, Schizachyrium scoparium.

My favorite evergreen native plants are the Hepaticas.

Hepatica nobilis var. acuta

This is the more robust sharp-leaved hepatica, Hepatica nobilis var. acuta, formerly known as Hepatica acutiloba for the pointed leaves.  This particular plant retains its green color, while the other sharp-leaved hepaticas in the garden turn a dark wine.  I'd love to know why this plant is aberrant.  It's the healthiest and most robust of them all and was either a division or a seedling of one of the other plants.

The following image has been subject to photo manipulation.

Cornus alba 'Variegata'

I took the top branch of the red-twigged dogwood and moved it lower in the photo, then cropped it, to yield a better composition.  These dogwoods aren't in the best place to show off their glowing red branches, but I can't figure out anyplace better for them, so they will remain overshadowed by the Thujas.  They really would be better by themselves in full sun, where the branches can contrast with snow.

Gazing at the Future With Eyes Wide Open

Time is relative, and the flipping of the calender now is completely arbitrary.  The Western world follows the Roman tradition of the Julian calender with January 1 as the New Year, but in other cultures, the New Year begins in spring or fall.  The New Year used to begin in March in Venice, which would actually make more sense for gardeners.  Regardless, humans have a need to recognize milestones, to find significance in dates, and so I cast my eyes onto the blank pages of the book of 2011 and start to dream winter gardening dreams and draw the first lines of the sketches.

I don't believe in making resolutions, but I do have ideas of things I'd like to do.  I love the little fairy garden box that my friend Leslie of Growing a Garden in Davis has made for her granddaughter (which she has posted*).  She was inspired by one she saw in Buffalo.  I've decided I should make one for the girl, who loves arranging little things.  This would be a good mother/daughter project for us.

I'm going to start more seeds in milk jugs as outdoor winter sowing.  Last year was nearly a complete bust for growing annuals from seed.  For some unknown reason, I'm good at transplanting tiny seedlings, so I think I'll have more luck with that.

Now that I've got my photography tools, I intend to delve deeper into the creative well to craft images that exist only in my mind.

Into the Woods

It's been too long since I put away my old darkroom equipment, and the creative muscles have gotten a little flabby.  With the DSLR camera and Photoshop, I can start working them again.  I don't know if this will lead me away from writing and into the visual realm.  The book is yet unwritten, the plot is unformed.  The fun will be seeing how it all comes out.

Have you started armchair gardening?  What new things do you plan to try this year?

*edited 1/4/11