St. John's Wort

     While I was out doing advance scouting for this month's Garden Blogger's Bloom Day (featured on the 15th of each month at May Dreams Garden), I spotted a sprig of St. John's wort.

Hypericum calcinum, 'Brigadoon'

     If I remember correctly, this is the cultivar Brigadoon, and I have had more than one change of heart since I planted it.  When I saw it in a nursery and bought it, it was because I thought St. John's wort was a U.S. native plant. In fact, there are some native species of St. John's wort, but this is Hypericum calycinum and is native to southern Europe and southwestern Asia.  It's not that I object outright to non-native plants.  There are lots of non-natives I enjoy in my garden.  But in this case, I was experimenting with a bed that was to be all native.  It turns out that this was not the only mistake I made in my selection and some of the other expats are staying put for now, but the St. John's wort made me nervous because it started spreading at some distance away from the parent plant by underground runners.  

     I've also had a few changes of heart about the color.  I like this interesting coloring as a seasonal feature.  But after I bought it, I read up on it (um, yeah, not the wisest sequence of actions) and my interpretation of what I read was that it would be this color all year round.  Yuck!  This doesn't suit my idea of summertime, particularly in a bed that is supposed to be naturalistic.  Well, it turned out that for me the coloring is indeed seasonal.  It stays peachy orange a little too long in the spring for my taste, but is light green in the summer.  Good.

     Now I've moved it to another spot, where its spreading, supposedly weed-suppressing nature will be more appreciated.  The peachy colored sprig pictured above was discovered yesterday in the original spot, along with one other.  This is why I moved it, but I'm hopeful that pulling these two sprigs will be the end of it in that spot, hopeful I've mostly escaped the worst of the trouble.  In the new spot, I won't mind if it spreads a bit; there's nothing delicate there for it to clobber.  Hopefully it will stop short of being invasive, and not join the club of nightmares previous owners have deeded to me: wisteria, nandina, privet, English ivy, the list goes on.   But I'll keep an eye on it.  

Hypericum calycinum 'Brigadoon' in more shade

     One last surprise.  In the new spot, it's not peach colored right now, even the new growth.  How does anyone ever manage to actually design a garden!  For me, the plants are just not cooperative!  If this individual doesn't color up, it may end up in the compost pile after all the trouble it's giving me.  But the peachy colored sprigs do look pretty nice, especially against a pine-straw covered background.  Maybe I'll find another new spot for it in a little more sun.

Taking Root

     I learn a lot about what will grow in my garden by trial and error ... mostly error.  Most of the plants I buy and plant are "experiments" -- to me at least, not that they are particularly rare -- and many of them don't survive one or another of the challenging conditions they face: humid summers, extremely variable rains, indifferent drainage, deer browsing, an inept gardener.  So when something grows well for me, I want more.  Last year I decided to try to focus more on easy propagation techniques.

     Actually, propagating a plant from a cutting was the very beginning of my fascination with gardening many years ago.  I came to gardening as an adult with no prior experience.  When I got my first real job, I became friends with one of my coworkers, Nina, who gave me a cutting of her Pothos houseplant and a plastic water bottle to root it in.  Amazing!  I was enthralled by the fact that we could create new plants by rooting cuttings in water!  I did it over and over again, giving some of the plants to other friends.  Nina let me learn the advanced lesson on my own.  Variagation is a genetic expression that can vary on different parts of the plant.  My pothos sported some leaves with less variagation than the original, but I didn't notice or attach any significance to this.  Variagation slightly reduces vigor, and the greener sections grew more vigorously.  The vigorous growth made them more obvious targets for my uneducated clippers and after several generations (I don't remember how many intermediate plants I once had anymore) I now have what is probably the only totally unvariagated Pothos that anyone has ever bothered to keep.  But I love it anyway, my stringy, plain little child.

Mums

     Sometime after that I learned how to propagate cuttings of cushion mums and did that for a few years.  In late spring, I would fill a flat with potting soil and snip cuttings from various mums that had been propagated from the ones I found growing in my yard when we first moved in.  These mums would generally bloom in the fall and come back in the spring (to be propagated again) and then bloom again starting in July.  They had a much looser style than the ones in the garden centers because I was not giving them professional haircuts, but I like the loose style.  The July blooming drove me crazy though because I thought mums were supposed to flower in autumn!  That's when I realized that cushion mums are a devious plot of the nursery industry.  Oh well, I still like them, but not as much because they are a bit of trouble.  Now I have real perennial mums and just buy the "annual" ones if I happen to get the urge in the fall or maybe have a party (the photo shows a flock of very rare birds that arrived for my husband's 40th birthday party.  You can see both the pink perennial mums and the burgundy cushion mums together to the right of the gate).

Flamingo migration and my front garden in early November

     While I was propagating cuttings of mums, I learned that the same exact technique and timing works for other plants.  I rooted a bunch of rosemary cuttings this past spring.  I'm hoping that by next Christmas they will be a nice size, still in pots, to give as Christmas gifts.  I've also made new Speedwell (Veronica spicata), Anise hyssop (Agastache foeniculum), and Lemon balm (Melissa officinalis) this way.  This year, I also successfully rooted cuttings of Carolina jasmine (Gelsemium sempervirens) -- visible in the flamingo picture climbing up the right side of the porch -- because I want to put some more of this fantastic native in my yard. And Lemon verbena (Lippia citriodora) because I love it in tea and especially its clear lemon (not citronella) scent; yet it's not really quite hardy and I'm tired of losing it.  Now I have more plants so hopefully the little ones will survive in their pots in the garage if the bigger one doesn't make it.

Beautyberry (Callicarpa americana)

     Along these lines, some people root cuttings of annuals and keep them indoors over the winter to plant out again in the spring.  I don't like buying annuals every year except once in a while if I want to splurge to fill a hole (like for the flamingo party).  Usually I just do without annuals, except self-seeders (another awesome way to get new plants, a topic for another post).  But I think I will buy a few this year that I would not normally buy and see if I can keep them this way.  I'm thinking I would like some scented geranium; also some coleus with pink in the leaves to underplant my Beautyberry (Callicarpa americana).  This is another fantastic native that gets purple berries in the late summer and early fall.  When I saw the unusual color of the berries I bought a plant, and this year in particular it was just outstanding.  But it's in a slightly out-of-the-way spot and I want a companion nearby that will draw attention to the berries when they are present.  I haven't figured out what that companion should be yet: I don't have anything that is quite right that's already growing in my yard and there are some aggressive groundcovers already present so I do not want to put a delicate untested perennial in that spot.  But a colorful annual might be just the thing.  I wouldn't need to finesse the timing too much and don't need to worry if it gets clobbered.  But what if it does well and I like it?  Then I would want it again next year and might not be able to find the same cultivar.  Aha! But coleus can be rooted in water!

      Surely nothing could be easier than rooting in water, the magic of the Pothos plant all over.  I recently learned of some other plants I like that root in water.

• Mexican petunia (Ruellia brittoniana): I rooted cuttings in water because it could be done, only to pitch them in the compost months later because I actually don't need any more Mexican petunia and feel ambivalent about sharing a potentially invasive plant with friends.  

New roots on a gardenia cutting

• Basil: this was a miracle!  I have been growing basil for years but didn't know they rooted in water.  It's probably too much trouble for me to try to keep a basil plant alive in the dry house all winter and I'll continue growing them from seed in the spring.  Rooting basil cuttings solves a different and more aggravating basil problem, however: bolting.  I knew you have to pinch off all the flowers or the basil leaves turn bitter.  Too many times have I missed the deadline and not even gotten to save my mature plants as pesto because I was hoping I could keep getting fresh leaves just a little longer.  I pinched and I pinched, but once the plant started flowering, there really seems to be nothing I can do.  Pinching off the flowers maybe buys a few days, but the herb is doomed once the process begins.  It's harder for me to grow basil from seeds in midsummer since it's hard to keep the seedbed moist all the time so succession planting is a bit of a non-starter.  That is, except when I failed spectacularly at pinching off the flowers and it actually self-seeded, but that left a big gap in the late summer with no basil.  However, this year I rooted several cuttings in water and had brand new basil plants to put out at intervals.  Some of the cuttings seemed to flower almost immediately, causing more frustration, but others were even more lush and beautiful and tasty than the original.  I haven't quite worked out the variables yet, but this is definitely worth doing again this year.
• Gardenia: another miracle!  I read somewhere that gardenia can be rooted in water and my reaction was "are you kidding?"  For me, it was unexpected that a woody plant would root so easily, since the plants I knew about were all fleshy annuals.  I cut some right away, probably at a terrible time of year to do it (just a month or two ago) and it worked!  For some time I've realized my gardenia is not very happy in its spot, but I'm sure it would not survive being moved so I have simply suffered along with it.  But if I can propagate it this easily, I can try it out in multiple spots all over the yard and hopefully learn what it really wants. 

While I was potting up this rooted cutting this weekend, I also took cuttings from my Golden Showers rose.  I read a lovely story in Greenprints magazine by Georgia A. Hubley about preserving a rose by rooting cuttings in a garden bed under a glass jar.  This reminded me that I had rooted rose cuttings in a garden bed a few years ago.  When I did it then, I was pruning the rose and listening to Felder Rushing's Gestalt Gardener podcast while I worked.  By a coincidence I took to be fate, Rushing was talking about rooting cuttings of roses in a garden bed.  He suggested taking a handful of cuttings and putting them into a well-worked bed that gets regular attention.  Whatever watering and attention the plants in the bed get would benefit the cuttings as well.  As it happened, I had just planted a new shrub in improved soil nearby so I took the opportunity.  I didn't really believe any of these cuttings would root but one did and grew new leaves and even one tiny flower while still just a foot tall or less under my shrub.  Eventually I knew I would have to move it, but I actually didn't have any place to put it.  I think there may be only one spot in my yard that is protected enough not to be nibbled by deer and the parent rose is in that spot (you can see its single November bloom in the flamingo photo too, right in front of the porch).  Golden Showers is not a small plant either; actually it's huge.  I was not going to be able to shoehorn the little offspring into another bed.  I ended up giving the new plant to another friend who had suffered a rose disaster when people he hired to power wash his house had an accident with the bleach.  I was happy to be able to help.  But why would I propagate a plant when I have no place to put it?  I don't know, but it was cheaper and more fun than buying a plant I don't have a spot for.  It's not like I've never done that before.  And this was not the last time either.  I just made some more cuttings of Golden Showers to give the glass jar method a try.  

Newly stuck rose cuttings

I'm hoping I'll be even more successful with this method, since the cuttings should not dry out as easily as they might in the open air.  But I should have taken cuttings of my Virginia Rose instead (or in addition).  This is another great native, which I bought at Monticello, home of Thomas Jefferson.  It is very happy in my garden but I have never seen it for sale locally.  OK, I said there was only one spot for a rose, but I make an exception for the Virginia Rose.  I planted it surrounded by a wire cage to protect it from deer while it got established and now it is so tall that most of the growth is too high for them to reach.  It's behind other shrubs which mostly disguise the wire cage (which probably isn't necessary any more anyway) and the rose spreads and scrambles as it likes.  It only blooms for a short time each year but very abundantly.  If I had multiple plants, I'd just put them here and there and let them do what they like.  Most of the time, I'd probably forget about them (like unfortunately I did when I was taking cuttings this weekend) but June would be just glorious with them blooming all over the yard.  I guess I know what I should do this weekend.

Macro Monday - Rosehips

     These are the hips of Golden Showers rose, one completely dried out and one a little more fresh.  I don't know why it never occurred to me to cut one open before to see what it looks like inside.  I think the fibers between the seeds are really wild-looking.  Rose hips are edible, and a good source of Vitamin C, but I've never tried them.  I suppose there must be differences in palatability from one variety of rose to another but I have to say these ones don't look too appealing as food.  I have had various flavored teas with rosehips as an ingredient, and I find them appalling, but I bet I would like the taste more in jam.  Varieties with smaller hips are good for attracting and feeding birds.  In fact Rosa multiflora is too good at attracting birds, and has conscripted them to spread it into natural areas where it tends to strangle out native flora.  Sad though I think this is, I have very fond memories of a road trip once while the feral roses were blooming.  What a treat to smell roses while coasting down the highway doing 60 mph!  
     Today I'm joining Lisa's Chaos for Macro Monday.

Moist, well-drained soil, only a legend?

     I'm looking at the seed and plant catalogs and dreaming of a better garden.  So many plants I covet!  I try to read the copy with a critical eye, trying to decide if a plant can really be successful in my garden with only ordinary luck and with the ordinary level of effort I can give.  According to the catalog descriptions, it seems that most plants require "constantly moist, well-drained soil".  I have some spots in my garden with moist soil, especially on days like this after a half-inch of drizzly rain fell last night.  I have lost lots of plants in these spots.  They don't like "wet feet".  I have other spots in my garden that don't have the problem of wet feet, some with excellent drainage indeed (i.e. pots).  Plants in these spots tend to gasp and wilt in our hot summers because I don't have time to water twice a day.  I had trouble even visualizing where constantly moist, well-drained soil could be found or what it would look like.

Lobelia cardinalis

     Until I visited Virginia's Shenandoah National Park in August and had an epiphany.  I found this gem of moist, well-drained soil, a Cardinal Flower (Lobelia cardinalis) growing in the wild here.   So, here's the vital clue about where to find constantly moist, well-drained soil ... on the rocky ledges surrounding a waterfall!

Dark Hollows Falls, Shenandoah National Park, Virginia

     Here is a slightly wider view of the Cardinal Flower.

Lobelia cardinalis in very moist, very well-drained soil

Dark Hollows Falls, Shenandoah National Park, Virginia

     We had to wait for another photographer to finish photographing the falls from the one dry spot that would give a full head-on view, and more photographers were waiting for us before we were done.  So the photo above is obviously not such an original composition.  While I waited, I climbed up on a ledge to get a different viewpoint and found a big colony of Turtlehead (Chelone species) which was unfortunately too shaded to photograph.  I had lost some Turtlehead in my garden during a too-dry summer.  Fortunately, not all the plants I admire require constantly moist, well-drained soil, and even some of the ones that are described that way in the catalogs seem to take the conditions I have for them reasonably well once established.  But now I know where to move to if I want a garden full of these treasures.  When I can have a garden on the banks of a waterfall, I can have them all.

What does a groundhog know, anyway?

Daffodil, probably "Carlton"

A few days ago was Groundhog's Day and Punxsutawny Phil got spooked by his shadow again, the wimp.  So apparently we're in for another six weeks of winter.  I probably can't complain since it doesn't seem like we've had much winter at all so far.  Even though it hasn't been too cold, though, I miss having lots of flowers and growth in the garden.  So, despite not being nearly as fed up with winter as I would normally be at this time of year, I was very excited to see the first daffodil of "spring" in my garden.  The flower bud was fat and fully colored already early on Wednesday morning when I had to leave town for a few days, so I expect it first bloomed on that day, February 1.  That's the earliest I recall having daffodil blooms (except for winter-blooming paperwhites) but it's only a couple weeks early and it looks like the rest in the clump will be closer to the normal schedule.  Still, as a harbinger of spring, this bloom is more than welcome in my garden.

A Touch of the Tropics

     My husband and I took to our local botanical garden this weekend.  Norfolk Botanical Garden is one of our favorite places to go for an outing in any season.  It was chilly but probably not as cold as we deserve at this time of year.  I suggested we go because I knew the Wintersweet would be in fragrant bloom.  

Chimonanthus praecox (Wintersweet)

     I didn't know about the Japanese apricots ahead of time and their fragrance wafting down on us was a delicious surprise.

Japanese apricot

     We ended up spending most of our time in the indoor conservatory they call the Tropical Pavilion.  It's steamy and warm inside ...

     ... and there are lots of interesting and fragrant blooms ...

Amaryllis

A begonia I think (no label)

     ... foliage ...

     ... and exotic botanical features I am so thoroughly unfamiliar with that I won't attempt to put a name to.

Painted Feather Bromeliad

Bromeliad 'Del Mar'

     If you are stuck in a cold-weather place without much sun, I hope you can find a conservatory or botanical garden to visit.  I always enjoy the warmth, color and intrigue I find here.

Macro Monday - Make a Wish!

     Today I'm joining Lisa's Chaos for Macro Monday.  I found this backlit dandelion seedhead so I had to shoot it.  Only problem is, I'm not sure which version I like best.  Maybe this one ...

     But in this one, you can see right into the inside, and I think that's cool too.

     This is another dandelion that has lost a lot of its fuzz, but that makes it easier to see individual filaments.

     Yes, I leave dandelions in my garden.  There's not much else blooming in January.  It was an unseasonably delightful 57 degrees on Saturday with bright warm sun (and how lucky to get it on a weekend!)  On days like those, there might be some active bees or butterflies who are going to need a snack.  I like the jolt of color myself, too.  And finally, you never know when you might need to make a wish.  Here's wishing you light and warmth wherever you are.