Cait's Garden

When a garden is in a state of constant evolution, it can be difficult to pull the trigger on spring bulbs. One has to make sure they can have undisturbed homes. Feeling my garden was (mostly) stable, I finally took the plunge and planted many dozen bulbs last fall, daffodils and hyacinths. The change they’ve already brought to the yard is amazing. And just as amazing is bringing a few indoors to enjoy. After all, it’s difficult to sniff a flower that’s only a few inches off the ground. This is much more civilized.

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What does one do in the face of a global pandemic? Revive the garden blog to focus on what’s always good and clean and true: dirt and plants. The only thing that gives me as much pleasure in the garden as a beautiful flower is a beautiful tomato, although the latter is much more elusive. This year, I have invested my time and money in seed growing for the first time ever. Behold the unfurling of a cherry tomato seedling. Cute, isn’t it? If these tiny little slips of green result in a bounty of fruit this year, I will count it a miracle in a year sorely lacking in miracles.

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With this very overdue post, I thought it best to follow-up my photo of my brown garden circa early Spring with one that shows how the same plot of land greened up. This photo was taken in late May and highlights my first wave of perennials, the blue ones: catmint, chives, and various sages. Unlike in recent years, where we had strangely hot springs, plants are blooming according to their usual schedule (instead of all at once). This takes some getting used to. I haven’t seen my plants follow their usual schedule for quite some time now.

I have my garden planned so that something new is going on pretty much all season from early Spring to late Fall. So at the time of this posting, the plants blooming in this photo have already waned. (Except for the catmint, which never wanes.) Stay tuned for photos of Wave 2!

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This patch of brown and raggy earth is where the magic happens soon. But I thought it beneficial to remind everyone of the “before”…before Spring clean up and growth. Not a pretty picture. Much of Spring Gardening is actually very unromantic chores, best achieved by a hedge clippers and a rake than by delicate pruners. Lots of signs of growth already, but other plants can’t be rushed just yet. So we’ll give everything a haircut, air it out, clean it up as best we can without disturbing too much, and then a couple months later, we post the “after” photo, and it is wonderfful.

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The leaves vacated most of my shrubs recently. The last amazing survivors were my barberry shrubs. I have always been aware of barberries. For a long time, the only choice gardeners had was the Crimson variety (or the dwarf Crimson Pygmy) that had a very distinct round shape and a very dark red color. They are great shrubs, but we took them for granted. In the past decade, though, especially the past 5 years, the market has exploded with new varieties of barberries in new colors and shapes. Even very tiny dwarf varieties.

I have two types of barberries in my yard that I have become so enamored with that I am plotting ways to alter my landscape to include more of them. Gold Pillar (seen above on the left) and Orange Rocket (see above on the right). Both are bred to grow tall and skinny rather than round, making them more versatile for use in the landscape. I’ve found neither grows in the promised column shape…they are more vase-shaped or fan shaped…but they definitely have more height than width. Gold Pillar is usually a bright yellow leaf, and Orange Rocket varies in shade between orange and red.

In the autumn, both of these varieties put on an amazing color show. The Gold Pillar turns into a bright ball of multi-colored flame and the Orange Rocket looks like glowing hot red lava. They are spectacular and their leaves hang on long past those of any other deciduous shrub. In fact, it’s the fall color that sealed the deal for my love of these shrubs. During the winter downtime, I highly recommend you also figure out a place to add these shrubs to your garden. They will provide 3 seasons of  amazing, carefree color.

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No, I’m not talking about the actual weather event known as snow (although it’s late October and a few flurries have already been sighted). I am talking about a kind of alyssum called “Carpet of Snow.” Normally, I would have nothing of note to say about an annual, especially one as common as alyssum. However, I’ve stumbled upon a strange phenomenon in my yard. A few years ago, I decided to grow alyssum from seed. I chose both white (Carpet of Snow) and a purple mix. The white did very well, the purple not so much, so the following year, I bought another packet of white alyssum, which again did just great all season long. The third year, I got lazy and decided not to bother planting any alyssum seeds. To my surprise, by the time summer got underway, I found I did indeed still have white alyssum. In fact, I had plenty of it, creeping through the bed, blooming in a very airy and delightful fashion. Somehow, this annual has learned to survive winter (through seeds, I imagine). Once again this year, I did not purchase alyssum and once again, I had plenty of it. So much that I moved some plants to other beds and pulled many out. (They are very shallow-rooted little plants, no trouble at all to get rid of where unwanted.)

Some would find these plants intrusive, but I look at them as natural fillers. There are always times when one perennial or another is going through an unfortunate phase, usually just after blooming. When that happens, the unattractive plant is hidden by a cloud of alyssum. Or should I say, a “Carpet of Snow.” Even as the first frosts of the year begin to touch my yard, my alyssum are still going strong and smelling sweet. Best packet of seeds I ever bought!

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I confess, I don’t spend a lot of gardening time on my front yard. I prefer to keep it simple, with lots of shrubs accented by never-fail perennials, like catmint. While my backyard can get wild and raggedy by season’s end, the front keeps its neatness and curb appeal. One of the best anchors of my front yard display is this Limelight Hydrangea, lording over the awkward little square of dirt between the front door and the driveway. It gets the perfect amount of sun and water (from the gutters) to thrive. And even now, I have a stunning display of flowers. Sometimes, when you get it right, you really get it right.

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This humble ground cover has slowly crept into my heart this year.  Plumbago, aka leadwort, is a perennial ground cover that reaches 10-12 inches in spread. It does well in sun to part-shade, although I’ve found it excels in part-shade. And it seems fairly drought-tolerant. The flowers are that exquisite shade of pure blue that sort of glows. It is the kind of blue one usually doesn’t find in a hardy Zone 5 perennial. And as a bonus, once the blue petals are gone, you are left with neat-looking little tufts of red that last for a long time. (I believe this red tufty part is called the “sepal” of the plant, but as I am a gardener, not a botanist, I can’t be positive.)

Plumbago is often referred to as a fall season perennial because it blooms until frost and because the leaves turn a bright red in fall. However, I’ve found that the blue flowers start in midsummer and just keep going until frost. The production is truly outstanding. One caveat, though. This plant is slow to awaken in the spring and slow to take off when you plant it new. It pays to begin with a good-sized plant from the garden center.

I started out slowly with this plant, trying just one plant last year and planting two more this year. Now that I’ve gotten to see how fabulous it is, I will be purchasing more of these showstoppers next year. Plumbago/leadwort is a plant saddled with not one, but two unattractive names, but the flowers are gorgeous enough to overcome anything.

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Sedum is an important part of any garden that strives for year-round color. The slightly succulent leaves look fresh and neat all year. Then come late August and September, the real show begins. The tight clusters of star-shaped flowers hold their color for weeks, and then remain looking good when dried for winter interest.

My favorite sedum by far is called “Neon.” As you can see from the photo, it lives up to its name with vivid purple flowers on bright green stems. It is compact (no flopping) and lights up any corner of the garden. Brilliant!

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Asters are a September staple, but the usual short varieties can easily become riddled with powdery mildew before the flowers even open. Over the years, I’ve lost so many asters to mildew that I had given up on them. Then I found Sky Blue Aster in the native plants section at the nursery. After just two seasons, the pathetic little stem I brought home became a big, tall clump of blue-green leaves covered in sprays of periwinkle blue flowers. To my surprise, it has reproduced a few plants through what appears to be random seeding. I love when that happens! The 3-4 foot stems do tend to flop, but I am happy to report a fantastic resistance to mildew. Once again, a native plant comes to the rescue!

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