The Genius Loci

This month's theme for Gardening Gone Wild's Picture This photo contest is "Genius loci," which means the spirit of the place. Judge Andrea Jones has asked for photos of a favorite place. There's no place I'd rather be in May than sitting on the swing in the woodland garden here at Squirrelhaven. The exuberance of the wild plants spilling into the paths delights my eyes, while the scent of the Phlox divaricata pleases my nose. The swing provides a shady respite from the myriad chores of the spring garden. Why would I want to be anywhere else?

Wildflower Wednesday: a Trillium Mystery

April 30, 2010

While I'm waiting impatiently for the native wildflowers in my woodland garden to start poking up through the soil, I've been indulging myself in the photo archives. I was reminded that I finally realized that this Trillium, which was purchased under the name Trillium grandiflorum, is clearly not.

The first difference lies inside the bloom. T. grandiflorum looks like this.

Note the greenish white ovary. My mystery Trillium, by contrast, has red on the ovary.

The texture of the petals and their arrangement are also different, and my mystery Trillium is much taller and the flower doesn't age to pink. The plant it mostly closely resembles is the white trillium, Trillium flexipes. However, that species has a white ovary. In addition, this flower does not nod.

As with all Trilliums, it is a denizen of the woodland and happily associates with other native and non-native shade garden plants.

The lone mystery Trillium blooms with the native Dodecatheon media and Phlox divaricata and the non-native Brunnera and Dicentra. The native Maianthemum (Smilacina) racemosa is in bud in the middle of May.

I purchased three Triliums together; one died, and one is the mystery plant. If anyone can positively identify this Trillium I'd be very grateful.

As always, Wildflower Wednesday hosted by Gail. Visit her at Clay and Limestone to discover more wildflowers.

Hope is Blooming

All the snow from the blizzard has melted in the woodland garden, revealing the sprouting Galanthus elwesii, the advance guard of spring. Then the sun shone down, coaxing the blooms to open. This is the start of the gardening year here at Squirrelhaven. Soon the woodland garden will be full of the sweet scented little blooms.

 I'm not a galanthophile, I have only the one type. While I am tempted by the descriptions of some of the cultivars of Galanthus nivalis, nothing can beat the reliable, early blooms of G. elwesii, the giant snowdrop.

Galanthus elwesii, the giant snowdrop

Granted, they foiled my plan of snowdrops and winter aconites (Eranthis hyemalis) blooming together. G. elwesii is too early for that, but that's a small price to pay for outdoor blooms in the middle of February in the suburbs of Chicago.

I'm not Lydia: Latest Entry in the DAISNAD* File

Tulipa 'Sineada Amor'

Remember the tulips I posted photos of for Bloom Day and how I labelled them 'Lydia'? Major "D'oh!" event here. Today I found the tag in the pot which identified these tulips as 'Sinaeda Amor', a variety I decided to try last fall. Why didn't I notice the tag before Bloom Day? In my defense, I must explain that I also potted up 'Lydia' tulips. They just weren't brought into the house as early as these tulips. I apologize for any inconvenience.
If you want to see what 'Lydia' tulips look like, go here and here.

*Do As I Say, Not As I Do

A Forced Bloom Day

Tulipa 'Lydia' 'Sineada Amor'

Just in time for Bloom Day (brought to you by Carol, of May Dreams Gardens), the tulips and crocuses I forced have opened.

Crocus vernus

I don't grow this type of crocus outside, preferring the earlier, smaller species of crocus. I just decided on a whim to put them in a container with the 'Lydia' tulips, which I prefer for forcing new to me 'Sineada Amor' tulips. By happy circumstance, they decided to bloom together.

I didn't know if they'd bloom at the same time, but somehow, all the stars aligned just right. Don't you love when that happens?
I don't know if my witch hazel (Hammamelis x intermedia 'Sunburst) is in bud or not. I can't get out there yet and it's too hard to see from the house. Even if it isn't already in bud, with daily highs above freezing, it will be very soon. Spring is on its way.

Also in bloom indoors is Oxalis triangularis and the plant formerly known as Coleus.

The Late Winter of My Discontent: a 3 for Thursday*

The birdbath gently steams for no one. In fact, it is remarkable for the complete absence of birds. It is a mere garden ornament.

My amaryllis stubbornly refuses to enter dormancy, so it can't come back out of dormancy. That new growth is a leaf, not a bud stalk. I didn't water it all summer. It sat behind the front porch containers completely deprived of moisture. It grew lush leaves. I brought it inside in October, and it sat in a dark corner of the house for months, obstinate in its pursuit of growing leaves. Maybe I'll start watering it just to spite it.

I gave the hyacinths the chilling and dark that they needed. What I didn't count on was the water in the hyacinth glasses freezing solid. I'm lucky the glasses didn't break. They were brought into the house to thaw, but the hyacinths have done nothing in the three weeks since. I fear for them.

*Thanks to Cindy, of From My Corner of Katy, for coming up with the Three for Thursday meme.

Seasons of the Garden

Campanula persicifolia 'Blue-Eyed Blonde' in June 2010

The thick plaster of snow has muffled the voice of the garden, making it difficult to recall its form and color of the growing season. Shockingly cold temperatures have descended for the week, so there's no chance of seeing it anytime soon. To refresh the memory, I search the photos I took that seem so long ago. The garden has been frozen, locked in cryogenic stasis for the past two months, casting the changes of the growing season into sharp relief.

I am called to wonder at the seasons of the garden. Have you ever thought about what season garden you have? There are gardens that are best seen in the spring (the easiest season), there are summer gardens, where things really don't get rolling until July, such those on the Buffalo Garden Walk. There are some gardens that are best appreciated in the fall, such as those long on tall grasses and asters. There are fewer gardens for winter interest, such as the Japanese island garden Sansho-En at the Chicago Botanic Garden.

There are gardens that have it all. I want Squirrelhaven to be one of them, with the whole garden interesting all year long. I don't know whether I have achieved, or ever will achieve, that desire in this garden. Squirrelhaven ebbs and flows with the seasons.

I had thought spring would be Squirrelhaven's season with the woodland at its peak, bursting with wildflowers and the fabulous tree peony,

Paeonia suffruticosa 'Ofjui-nishiki' in May 2010

but then I thought the Nanoprairie lacked oomph. The photos tell a different story.

Yes, there's a bit of a lull after the daffodils, Scilla and Magnolia finish blooming in April, but in May there's the smoking Geum triflorum,  the Baptisia and the Practically Perfect Phlox, as Gail likes to call Phlox pilosa. The Nanoprairie just gets better from there.


Then, I thought that summer definitely can't be the best season here, because the woodland garden has fallen into its summer torpor, with only the bugbane (Actaea racemosa) doing much of anything. Wrong again.

These pictures were taken in the middle of June.

The front of the woodland garden is ablaze with color in July.

'Black Beauty' lilies

In addition to the imposing presence of the lilies, Geranium 'Gerwat' (Rozanne) reaches its peak of floral exuberance at the front of the woodland garden in July.

It really makes no sense to have too much going on at the back of the woodland garden, because no one wants to spend much time back there in the middle of July. That's where the mosquitoes hang out. Despite the biting nasties, I make the daily trek to the compost pile back there, so I do enjoy seeing the Lobelia siphilitca blooming there, in front the Hibiscus syriaca and of several Hostas which also bloom in July.

Lobelia siphilitica in July 2010

And why should a garden be deemed "boring" just because it lacks blooms? Many berries ripen in the summer shade, such as these of Cornus alternifolia.

The berries of the pagoda dogwood turn dark purple in July.

And then there is the beauty of foliage.

Hakonechloa macra 'Aureola'

So Squirrelhaven still has much to delight the eye in July. By August, all the Lobelias, Tricyrtis, and woodland ex-asters are in full bloom and the Japanese anemones are coming into bloom. Meanwhile, out front in the Nanoprairie, the coneflowers and Phlox paniculata are still going strong and the ex-asters are just starting.

Autumn at Squirrelhaven is wonderful, with the return of cooler temperatures. The woodland garden is filled with the scent of Actaeas, and the Japanese anemones command attention, while the toad lilies just keep going.

Tricyrtis 'Gilt Edge' (toadlily) with Actaea (Cimicifuga) 'Black Negligee' and buds of Aconitum in September

The ex-asters in the Nanopraire burst into bloom and the grasses color up; the whole garden sings with fall color.

Symphyotrichums (ex-asters) tower over the Nanoprairie in October

The show doesn't end until late in November.

So, is Squirrelhaven a spring, summer or fall garden? If you want to see if it's a winter garden take a look at my last post, or this post from 2008. In which season does your garden shine? Did you plan it that way?

Not Just a Lot of Snow*: Groundhog Day Blizzard

view out the front door 3 p.m. February 1,  2011

A "blizzard" is different from a heavy snow storm. In fact, a blizzard need not be accompanied by any falling snow. According to the National Weather Service, a blizzard is "large amounts of falling OR drifting snow with winds in excess of 35 miles per hour [56 kph] and visibilities of less than 1/4 mile [1.6 k] for an extended period of time (greater than 3 hours)." (Source United States Search and Rescue Task Force.) The winds cause dangerous near-whiteout conditions paralyzing traffic, and can fall trees and power lines. The strong winds also cause dangerous windchills, which can cause frostbite and hypothermia.

The Chicago area has not experienced a blizzard in 12 years. Neither that storm, nor the blizzards of 1979 or 1967 (which I do not remember) are listed as "Historic event" blizzards on Wikipedia, while this storm is given that designation for the large area of the country affected. In Chicago, the strong winds near 70 mph (113 kph) blew straight off the lake, shutting down Lake Shore Drive stranding hundreds of motorists for 10 hours overnight. Motorists had to be rescued by snowmobile. 60 miles (97 k) of Interstate 80 have been shut down. 1,300 flights at O'Hare airport and all flights at Midway airport have been cancelled, including VIS's flight to Orlando, Florida. (He's stuck here shoveling the driveway instead.) The National Guard in Humvees has been rescuing stranded motorists from St. Louis, Missouri, up to the Chicago area. The governor has declared the State of Illinois a weather disaster area, and the State is essentially shut down. At the height of the storm, 95,000 customers were without power.

Closer to home, our public library closed down five hours early yesterday and is closed today, yesterday there were 90-minute delays on Metra, the commuter train service, and the Northwest line is shut down now. Schools and many businesses are closed today. Route 53 is closed from Lake Cook Road to I-90, the Jane Adams Tollway and I-290 are also closed. The heaviest snow fell around 9 p.m. So far, about a foot and a half of snow has fallen, with more still coming down, with blizzard warnings continued through 3 p.m. today. A "civil emergency" has been declared in my county and a travel ban has been enacted.

The amount of snow isn't as much as the Big One, the Blizzard of '67, or as much as we got back in 1999, which is a good thing, as I can't help VIS shovel. The boy is sick, so it'll just be VIS and the girl out there with the shovels. We aren't going anywhere anytime soon.

*This post is for Buffalonians Elizabeth of Gardening While Intoxicated and Jim of Art of Gardening.

Winter Interest in the Midwestern Garden

It's the middle of winter and a blizzard is bearing down on Squirrelhaven. Before the garden gets buried under several feet of snow, let's take a look at some seed heads. It's good to not be too tidy at the end of the growing season. The standing seed heads provide something to look at in a sea of white.

Physocarpus opulifolius 'Monlo' (Diablo™)

Dodecatheon media

They also provide food for any birds that might visit.

Echinacea purpurea

It may not be as colorful or as interesting as a winter garden in a more mild climate, but I'll take what I can get.

Astilbe 'Visions' and Hydrangea macrophylla 'Penny Mac'

What plants do you grow that have interesting seed heads?