I don't know what is the official definition of "woods." I mean, I know it's a place with trees, but is there a numerical standard? How many trees does it take to make a "woods"? I hope I have enough. But it would be a close call probably. You can take the path through the middle of my woods out to the back meadow in about thirty seconds--if you walk slowly. Now, to walk it from one side to the other takes longer. It does stretch the entire width of my Acres. And yes, I do have a path for taking that trek. In fact, I have another path through the trees--uh, I mean the woods--from the house to the meadow that is more of a winding longer trail. And, of course, my woods connect with the woods on Dennis' acres. The deer often come across 25, slip up through Dennis' woods, cut through mine, and then meander on down to Aaron's pine trees--especially in the winter. They love those pine trees. Protects them from the weather some I reckon. Oops--I mean, protects them from the weather some I "guess." Sorry, didn't mean to slip into Southern lingo there.
The great thing about the woods is that it gives me another "eco-system" for planting--experimenting--with flowers, trees, and shrubs. It's full shade heaven in the woods themselves. It's partial shade to full shade along the edges. To be honest, I haven't had a great deal of success in the woods, but the edges are doing well. I would someday like to build an old country wall between the woods and the edges on the house side. Not just so I can quote "Mending Wall," my neighbors would be totally unaffected by such a wall anyway--but so that I can define the edges into easier to maintain garden plots. Keep the woods at bay a little bit. I'd also like to add a little definition to an area just on the meadow side of the woods, right to the left of the center path. I've tucked a rhododendron, red twig dogwood, bleeding heart, and some daffodils in , there. Such miracle constructions are a long way off, but while I'm prophesying, I'd like to make the paths in the woods more substantive as well. Cobblestones of some sort maybe? Any suggestions are welcome.
On the edges of the woods that face the house there are a great number and variety of flowers and shrubs. There is a bigger "edge" directly behind the house than on the other side of the path on the house side. There's also a large wooden shed right behind the house on this edge. In fact, the winding path through the woods begins right behind this shed. A secret path. =) Anyway, right behind the house on the edge of the woods are three forsythia, a rose of Sharon, a redbud, and a bleeding heart. All of these bloom each year, except for one of the forsythia. Flowers that I've planted here are a lot (tip: "a lot" means at least a dozen) of crocus, daffodils, lilies, hosta, tulips, Dutch iris, grape hyacinth, rosy Alpine bells, and stardrift. Sprinkled among these beauties are a few phlox, iris, astilbe, huechera, aconite, Lenten roses, anemones, wood hyacinth, bluebells, coral bells, fern, corydalis, balloon flowers, and sedum. Lots of sprinkling! Bring your flower umbrella! It's quite an extensive garden. I do have a problem here with squirrels taking some of the bulbs despite the fact that there are two huge walnut trees over here, and the ground is littered with nuts. Did I happen to mention in this "history" that I hate squirrels and walnut trees? I thought so. I hate squirrels and walnut trees. Anyway, this is a beautiful spot from early spring to frost, though I am in constant warfare with the encroaching woods. And the squirrels.
The other edge of the house side is not nearly as wide. It has "lots" of crocus, a redbud, bleeding heart, and two forsythia that bloom each spring, the Acres' only mountain laurel, and a "sprinkling" of daffodils, dwarf iris, tulips, lilies, hosta, fern, and fall crocus. Most of this area is full shade though one small area has some sun. There's an encroachment battle over here as well. That's why that idea of a wall keeps ricocheting around my empty brain.
The other "edge" of the woods--the meadow side--is mostly flowering trees and shrubs that have not yet fulfilled their purpose. They are growing nicely, just not blooming. A rose of Sharon and a magnolia bloom every year, but not any of the other stuff: two redbud, another magnolia, a crab apple, a hawthorn, four dogwoods--one pink, and two blue spruce. Of course, the spruce won't bloom. Now, there are a couple dozen daffodils over here that bloom each spring and a patch of black-eyed Susan that bloom in the summer. (God planted those. I can't take credit.) The rhododendron that I already mentioned was about to bloom this last spring, but one of the deer traipsing through my woods stopped to munch. Ugh. At least it's still alive so there's hope. There are some aconite, hosta, lilies, and iris over here, but they don't bloom much. This edge does get a little sun, but just a very little. That's undoubtedly the problem, but I'll keep hoping. The things that have bloomed keep my hopes alive.
As mentioned, I have not had much success in the forest. (Whoa, in just a few paragraphs it's grown from a maybe woods to a forest! Ah, the power of the pen!) God has a nice bouquet of May apples in here and a large swath of Dutchman's breeches, and numerous violets. And He has some trillium in here that have not yet bloomed. I'm sure they will one of these springs. I have tried all sorts of flowers and shrubs in here and failed. All flora that were supposed to be full shade lovers, woodsy plants. But. . . I do have some daffodils and crocus that bloom in here before the trees get their leaves. And some fall crocus after the leaves have fallen. And there are a couple Lenten roses and ferns that I've put in here still alive. But not nearly the number I've planted in here. Any suggestions for things to try would be welcome. There may be a bunch of Arbor Day saplings in here. When I first moved here, I planted a bunch of them in here, but I have no idea how they're doing. I didn't think to mark where I put them. Brilliant, eh? I have stumbled on a redbud and dogwood that are growing in here, but the others, who knows? Maybe twenty years from now who ever owns Iten's Acres after me will wake up some spring morning and go, "Wow, honey, come look at this. It's a miracle. The woods are all abloom." I don't think I qualify as a miracle producer, but it's fun to imagine such a moment sometime in the future. My gardening angels and I can give each others high fives in heaven. Can you give a high five to someone with wings?
Anyway, you can come and hike the woods with me anytime--edges and all--without the slightest chance of getting lost or without the slightest chance of not encountering some beauty. Come in the winter, and we can quote "Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening," and we won't even have "miles to go before we sleep." It's just a couple steps to the back door.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Friday, December 16, 2011
Chapter 14: Space: The Flower Frontier
When I first arrived at Iten's Acres, there was a large open space to the right of the house practically devoid of any plants save grass and a walnut tree. For some reason my predecessor had planted a clump of blackberry bushes--four or five--right behind the privacy fence at the edge of the parking area. Why he put them there or why he planted so many I do not know. But by the time I became "park ranger," they were huge--white blossoms in the spring, lots of berries by mid-summer. I have been surprised by the apparent lack of interest in the fruit by the birds and wildlife, but the only creature that snacks on them is a chubby old bald thing. Well, some visiting dignitaries once made a pan of blackberry cobbler. But other than that . . . There were, also, two metal sheds on this side of the house, a pair of horseshoe pits, the frame of a doghouse, and a line of trees--mostly walnut--between my property and my neighbor's. I don't know why my predecessor left only the frame of a doghouse--he took the large "cage" that was there and the outside of the doghouse. I don't know if the line of walnut trees is on my property or Aaron's, but I do know that if I ever get my hands on a chainsaw, they may just "disappear." Aaron may come home some day and find himself the victim of deforestation. Hope he doesn't mind. In my happy dreams I can see the walnut trees going up in smoke in someone's wood burning stove.
As you may have guessed by now, the area around the house is the exact counterpoint to the front of the Acres. Up there, most of my property is to the left of the driveway. Back here at the homestead, after the driveway has wound its way around the ancient maple and the pond, most of the space is to the right of the driveway/parking area. Naturally, all that space needed some decorating. And over time, a plan was instigated, acted upon in stages, and some beautiful "stars" have been planted in this space.
Step one was the obvious one. I mean, what would any sane gardener do with horseshoe pits other than turn them into flower beds? Duh. One of the pits is now a bed of shade flowers. One of the pits is now a bed of shade and sun flowers. In fact, this second bed was doubled in size this autumn. The stars of the shade garden are a Lenten rose, a yellow corydalis, a lily, some phlox, crocus, and hyacinth. The stars of the "dappled" bed are a meadow sweet, creeping phlox, lilies, daffodils, crocus, and glory of the snow. Neither bed has ever complained about the change in its job description. Just thought I would throw that in there.
Step two was just as obvious--at least to this old man. Do something about the doghouse area. It's quite huge--forty feet long by eight to ten feet deep. It's shady in the morning but gets some sun in the afternoon. In other words, I can plant whatever I want in there, anything goes--or should I say anything grows. A flower lovers dream. In the spring the stars of this area are wild phlox, anemones, snowdrops, white iris, daffodils, tulips, and pink columbine. All of these are not only gorgeous but aggressive "spreaders." In summer the stars of this area are phlox and oriental lilies--most of them orange tiger lilies. Both of these flowers grow eight feet tall or higher, bloom prolifically, and like their spring "pals," spread magnificently. And the phlox as they spread, change color! In addition, a variety of morning glories come up each summer from seed and wind their way up the phlox and lilies to add to the bouquet of flowers. By August this area is stunning. (There are other flowers in here, but these mentioned are the stars.) Every year because of the madcap spreading of all the varieties the "pattern" in this bed is constantly changing. The wildness of it adds to its appeal. Someday I will remove the old doghouse frame and allow them to race to fill in the new open area.
Step three involved the metal shed that is too readily visible as one walks toward the back/front of the house. The plan was to try to make it disappear--as much of it as possible--by putting a garden in front of the visible area. This, of course, required an emphasis on taller, wider, plants. The solution was a forsythia, a redtwig dogwood, lots of phlox, and some day lilies. These are the major beauties here and do quite well in "hiding" the shed from spring to frost. I love it when a plant comes together.
Step four was to put a huge--16 by 16--lily bed right in the middle of the area. It has other things in it as well--iris (duh), a lilac, phlox, daffodils, giant sunflowers, and moon flowers to name a few. But the lilies are the stars. There are, at least, forty different lilies in this bed and each year they spread out to claim more territory. At times in mid-June there are 150 blooms in this bed each day. Marvelous to see! I always put a number of gladiolas in here as well; they can tower as high as the lilies. And morning glories and larkspur come back each year from seed to add to the color scheme. I'm going to have to add some cosmos in here as well. They'll come back each year, too. And they last until frost. This bed will become the eighth wonder of the world--or at least, of Iten's Acres.
Step five--hey, there's lots of space--was to put in what I call the Conifer Garden, next to the doghouse zone. It has some non-conifers in it, but it started out all conifers until I made it into an actual bed. By mid-summer it is quite shady most of the day. What's in here? Glad you asked. Taxus, red and yellow barberry, false cypress, two elderberries, a Lenten rose, a few hosta, an iris, and some lilies are the main ingredients. There is one "special" bouquet here--toad lilies. They are strange but lovely little flowers that love the shade and bloom late in the year. I have a couple elsewhere, but in this bed they thrive! (Tip: elderberries do not last long once they ripen. They must be the filet mignon of the bird world. They are an exceedingly sweet berry--when I've been quick enough to get a bite or two. Maybe they're the milky way of the bird world?) Adding to the picturesque quality of this garden is a bird bath. It's lovely on summer afternoons to see a flock of goldfinch in full bloom flitting about the foliage here and gathering around the rim of the bird bath to drink. And to munch on elderberries too, no doubt.
This fall I did two last things to this space. (Well, not "last," but last so far.) First, I cut down the walnut tree! "To everything there is a season. . .A time to dance!" I hate those trees! The other "last" thing was to turn an old dilapidated fire pit into an iris bed. It's quite small but deep with the iris sitting on top of the soil. I'll be anxious to see if the experiment works. If it does, you'll probably see some more "pot bunkers" of various flowers popping up all over the Acres.
Ahhhh, I love large open spaces. Yep, I love being spacey. The more space, the more places to plant a variety of stars.
As you may have guessed by now, the area around the house is the exact counterpoint to the front of the Acres. Up there, most of my property is to the left of the driveway. Back here at the homestead, after the driveway has wound its way around the ancient maple and the pond, most of the space is to the right of the driveway/parking area. Naturally, all that space needed some decorating. And over time, a plan was instigated, acted upon in stages, and some beautiful "stars" have been planted in this space.
Step one was the obvious one. I mean, what would any sane gardener do with horseshoe pits other than turn them into flower beds? Duh. One of the pits is now a bed of shade flowers. One of the pits is now a bed of shade and sun flowers. In fact, this second bed was doubled in size this autumn. The stars of the shade garden are a Lenten rose, a yellow corydalis, a lily, some phlox, crocus, and hyacinth. The stars of the "dappled" bed are a meadow sweet, creeping phlox, lilies, daffodils, crocus, and glory of the snow. Neither bed has ever complained about the change in its job description. Just thought I would throw that in there.
Step two was just as obvious--at least to this old man. Do something about the doghouse area. It's quite huge--forty feet long by eight to ten feet deep. It's shady in the morning but gets some sun in the afternoon. In other words, I can plant whatever I want in there, anything goes--or should I say anything grows. A flower lovers dream. In the spring the stars of this area are wild phlox, anemones, snowdrops, white iris, daffodils, tulips, and pink columbine. All of these are not only gorgeous but aggressive "spreaders." In summer the stars of this area are phlox and oriental lilies--most of them orange tiger lilies. Both of these flowers grow eight feet tall or higher, bloom prolifically, and like their spring "pals," spread magnificently. And the phlox as they spread, change color! In addition, a variety of morning glories come up each summer from seed and wind their way up the phlox and lilies to add to the bouquet of flowers. By August this area is stunning. (There are other flowers in here, but these mentioned are the stars.) Every year because of the madcap spreading of all the varieties the "pattern" in this bed is constantly changing. The wildness of it adds to its appeal. Someday I will remove the old doghouse frame and allow them to race to fill in the new open area.
Step three involved the metal shed that is too readily visible as one walks toward the back/front of the house. The plan was to try to make it disappear--as much of it as possible--by putting a garden in front of the visible area. This, of course, required an emphasis on taller, wider, plants. The solution was a forsythia, a redtwig dogwood, lots of phlox, and some day lilies. These are the major beauties here and do quite well in "hiding" the shed from spring to frost. I love it when a plant comes together.
Step four was to put a huge--16 by 16--lily bed right in the middle of the area. It has other things in it as well--iris (duh), a lilac, phlox, daffodils, giant sunflowers, and moon flowers to name a few. But the lilies are the stars. There are, at least, forty different lilies in this bed and each year they spread out to claim more territory. At times in mid-June there are 150 blooms in this bed each day. Marvelous to see! I always put a number of gladiolas in here as well; they can tower as high as the lilies. And morning glories and larkspur come back each year from seed to add to the color scheme. I'm going to have to add some cosmos in here as well. They'll come back each year, too. And they last until frost. This bed will become the eighth wonder of the world--or at least, of Iten's Acres.
Step five--hey, there's lots of space--was to put in what I call the Conifer Garden, next to the doghouse zone. It has some non-conifers in it, but it started out all conifers until I made it into an actual bed. By mid-summer it is quite shady most of the day. What's in here? Glad you asked. Taxus, red and yellow barberry, false cypress, two elderberries, a Lenten rose, a few hosta, an iris, and some lilies are the main ingredients. There is one "special" bouquet here--toad lilies. They are strange but lovely little flowers that love the shade and bloom late in the year. I have a couple elsewhere, but in this bed they thrive! (Tip: elderberries do not last long once they ripen. They must be the filet mignon of the bird world. They are an exceedingly sweet berry--when I've been quick enough to get a bite or two. Maybe they're the milky way of the bird world?) Adding to the picturesque quality of this garden is a bird bath. It's lovely on summer afternoons to see a flock of goldfinch in full bloom flitting about the foliage here and gathering around the rim of the bird bath to drink. And to munch on elderberries too, no doubt.
This fall I did two last things to this space. (Well, not "last," but last so far.) First, I cut down the walnut tree! "To everything there is a season. . .A time to dance!" I hate those trees! The other "last" thing was to turn an old dilapidated fire pit into an iris bed. It's quite small but deep with the iris sitting on top of the soil. I'll be anxious to see if the experiment works. If it does, you'll probably see some more "pot bunkers" of various flowers popping up all over the Acres.
Ahhhh, I love large open spaces. Yep, I love being spacey. The more space, the more places to plant a variety of stars.
Monday, December 12, 2011
The Joy of Being in the Dark
The moon was huge tonight! Gorgeous! The sky was cloudless, clear. I could not resist walking Iten's Acres in the dark. One precaution must be taken. I must recruit Bonnie and/or Gus to join me. Their presence will protect me from strange encounters with the beasts of the field. And their presence will keep me from unexpected encounters with the two of them. Many a time as I walked at night on the Acres, awestruck, gaping at the stars, a furry body suddenly brushing up against me in the dark has shortened my lifespan. If I take at least one of them with me at the outset of the journey, fewer surprises interrupt my walking and only the night sky takes my breath away.
Tonight was a marvelous stroll. I started at the front of my property after I had deposited tomorrow's trash pick-up. Without moving, I go from the mundane of the ordinary chore to the magnificence of time alone. On a night like tonight the water in the swamp across the road is like another sky. As the light breeze passes over the pool, it reflects a shimmering expanse of stars intersected by a yellow brick road of moonlight. The trees at the far end of the field seem shadowy, eerie, yet beautiful. I imagine a herd of deer watching me, not sure if I'm substance or shadow. When I move, they know. But I would be too distant to cause them to fear. They often feed over there in the twilight. Calm in the open because of the nearest of the trees. At the first sign of danger, they would disappear into the woods with that majestic spring in their leap.
Gus joins me here. I see him coming from the Christmas lights on my neighbor's home. They do not mar the darkness. His house looks quite elegant. All the lights are white--like the stars in the sky, only near. I listen for the angels' song. I love the simplicity of the decoration. As I walk the front of the Acres pause must be taken at times to pet my friend who ricochets from place to place enamored not by the loveliness of the starry sky but by whatever movement or scent arouses his curiosity. The sky is a black cloth, glittering with a million diamonds. Even this late, Venus claims her superiority to the starry host.
The ancient maple and the Old Sentinel are majestic even in the dark. Their outline, their shape solidifies as the eyes adjust. In the winter there are no leaves to hide the stars. The pond imitates the swamp in its mirroring of the sky. A plane blinks its way across the first heaven. I wonder where it's headed. Do the people at the window sense that they are being watched, that a lone figure in the night is questioning the direction of their lives--a lone figure who may as well be as far away from them as the stars they see above them? The bench and lamp post by the pond and the shape of my house look as if they belong in some Shadowland fantasy.
The wafer moon seems to shrink as the night ages, turning from yellow to white. It moves almost imperceptibly across the sky. I slip through the trees behind the house and walk out into the meadow and over to the top of the hill. I could stand here forever. Gus is puzzled by the lack of movement, succumbs to his energy, and scampers off into the wild area. The stars appear to be even more numerous out here; there's more sky to see. Windows in the distant indicate the homes of my country neighbors, warm, and full of life. The occupants are unaware of the brilliance of the night that encloses their man-made caves. Immersed in loveliness, yet they sit unaware of the glory all around them, untouched by the Creator's handiwork.
I sit awhile in the chair at the top of the hill, trying to grow as silent as the darkness. A little chilled, but unable to let go of the sight of a universe of stars. So vast! So incalculable in number! "The heavens declare the glory of God." They speak of His divine power and infinite qualities. He who spoke them into existence in a moment of the time that He created knows them all by name. And miracle of miracles, here I sit in a near infinite universe, a lump of clay filled with the breath of life, gazing at His majesty, and He knows me by name. Me! He eyes are on me, His Al, basking in the beauty of the night, in the beauty of the darkness illuminated by pinpoints of blazing fire.
A cold nose on my hand breaks my reverie. Gus is anxious for attention and activity. I oblige. As I turn to head for home, the lights in the windows of my house beckon me. Somewhat reluctantly, I follow the beacon out of the darkness, through the paths in the trees, home.
I have loved my time being in the dark.
Tonight was a marvelous stroll. I started at the front of my property after I had deposited tomorrow's trash pick-up. Without moving, I go from the mundane of the ordinary chore to the magnificence of time alone. On a night like tonight the water in the swamp across the road is like another sky. As the light breeze passes over the pool, it reflects a shimmering expanse of stars intersected by a yellow brick road of moonlight. The trees at the far end of the field seem shadowy, eerie, yet beautiful. I imagine a herd of deer watching me, not sure if I'm substance or shadow. When I move, they know. But I would be too distant to cause them to fear. They often feed over there in the twilight. Calm in the open because of the nearest of the trees. At the first sign of danger, they would disappear into the woods with that majestic spring in their leap.
Gus joins me here. I see him coming from the Christmas lights on my neighbor's home. They do not mar the darkness. His house looks quite elegant. All the lights are white--like the stars in the sky, only near. I listen for the angels' song. I love the simplicity of the decoration. As I walk the front of the Acres pause must be taken at times to pet my friend who ricochets from place to place enamored not by the loveliness of the starry sky but by whatever movement or scent arouses his curiosity. The sky is a black cloth, glittering with a million diamonds. Even this late, Venus claims her superiority to the starry host.
The ancient maple and the Old Sentinel are majestic even in the dark. Their outline, their shape solidifies as the eyes adjust. In the winter there are no leaves to hide the stars. The pond imitates the swamp in its mirroring of the sky. A plane blinks its way across the first heaven. I wonder where it's headed. Do the people at the window sense that they are being watched, that a lone figure in the night is questioning the direction of their lives--a lone figure who may as well be as far away from them as the stars they see above them? The bench and lamp post by the pond and the shape of my house look as if they belong in some Shadowland fantasy.
The wafer moon seems to shrink as the night ages, turning from yellow to white. It moves almost imperceptibly across the sky. I slip through the trees behind the house and walk out into the meadow and over to the top of the hill. I could stand here forever. Gus is puzzled by the lack of movement, succumbs to his energy, and scampers off into the wild area. The stars appear to be even more numerous out here; there's more sky to see. Windows in the distant indicate the homes of my country neighbors, warm, and full of life. The occupants are unaware of the brilliance of the night that encloses their man-made caves. Immersed in loveliness, yet they sit unaware of the glory all around them, untouched by the Creator's handiwork.
I sit awhile in the chair at the top of the hill, trying to grow as silent as the darkness. A little chilled, but unable to let go of the sight of a universe of stars. So vast! So incalculable in number! "The heavens declare the glory of God." They speak of His divine power and infinite qualities. He who spoke them into existence in a moment of the time that He created knows them all by name. And miracle of miracles, here I sit in a near infinite universe, a lump of clay filled with the breath of life, gazing at His majesty, and He knows me by name. Me! He eyes are on me, His Al, basking in the beauty of the night, in the beauty of the darkness illuminated by pinpoints of blazing fire.
A cold nose on my hand breaks my reverie. Gus is anxious for attention and activity. I oblige. As I turn to head for home, the lights in the windows of my house beckon me. Somewhat reluctantly, I follow the beacon out of the darkness, through the paths in the trees, home.
I have loved my time being in the dark.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Chapter 13: Circling the House II
To the left of the house, just a little to the left, is another "enhanced" area--if flowers and flowering shrubs are part of your definition of "enhance." I call this the Canopy area because it's shaded by a few trees of various sizes. The trees were here when I arrived; well, most of them anyway. I did put a redbud in there that's doing quite well. I expect it to bloom one of these springs soon. 2012 anyone? I hope so. I added it because last winter I cut down a large vine in here that was strangling a dogwood. In fact, the top of the tree was already dead. A storm this summer blew down the top. Fortunately, the dogwood has sent up a number of shoots from the bottom, and they are starting to thrive. I've even moved some of its saplings to other places on the Acres. And they transplant quite well! Anyway, the removal of the vine allowed more sun into the area, and I want to keep it shaded; hence the redbud. I have a number of redbuds that I planted all at the same time in various places. I'm fascinated at the difference between how quickly some of them grow and how slowly others of them grow. It's amazing how where you are planted influences how quickly you grow and flourish.
There is a small bed at the edge of the canopy. Quite primitive in structure; it's made from cement blocks. I call this bed The Lenten Rose Bed. It has five of them in there. They are the stars! Lenten Roses are amazing. They thrive in the shade. They are green year around. They grow remarkably tall. They bloom earlier than anything--late February or early March--except maybe the pussy willow by the pond. And they keep their blooms for most of the summer. Gorgeous things! And like other stars they need a supporting cast. In this bed that includes tulips, white grape hyacinth, allium, and a mystery plant that is huge each spring but has never bloomed. I wish I could find my old records to "discover" what it is and understand why it hasn't bloomed. I have another one in another bed that is sunny. Same result. Tall, luscious, bloomless every year. Even the resident expert--Mom--doesn't know what it is. That's a semi-miracle! Perhaps by time I'm 98 it will bloom, and I'll be able to tell you what it is. Until then, the mystery remains. Where's Sherlock when you need him?
Once upon a time this bed was the source of forget-me-nots that I spread all over the property. Beautiful little blue flowers that you would never be able to forget once you saw them. And do they love to spread themselves. Well, they used to love to spread themselves. This spring--nothing. (Okay, there are a few in the Blue Bed and the Spring Bed.) But I had those lovely little flowers all over my property, and this spring they decided as a group to not show up--to forget that I was counting on them to add some beauty to the Acres. I miss them. I remember them. They are all but gone. Sigh. I have no idea what happened to them. Of course, they are on my shopping list for next spring when I wander out to Baker's Acres--the nursery that has every flower known to man and myriads that they've "invented" themselves.
The stars of the actual canopy area are the bleeding hearts. I have loved bleeding hearts since I was a small tyke in Wellston, Missouri. There are four large red ones, three large white ones, a dwarf red one, and a dwarf white one all under the canopy. Marvelous! And their wild cousins are here too--Dutchman's Breeches by the score! Combined with the two gigantic ones in the rock garden by the house which is right across from the canopy, this is the land of the bleeding hearts--and no one has shed a tear. (Except for the missing forget-me-nots, of course.) The supporting cast for these stars? Aconite, tulips, lily-of-the-valley, grape hyacinth, crocus, daffodils, a zillion yellow corydalis, bluebells, lilies, hosta, dwarf iris, fall crocus, hardy cyclamen, and a lovely Japanese fern. And this is the area where I have wild yellow violets! And--we're not done yet--in front of this area are three container gardens: impatiens, snapdragons, alyssum, marigolds, morning glory, begonia, coleus, dianthus, petunia, bright eyes. Since this area gets a dab of morning sun yet is still shaded for much of the day, a variety of annuals thrive here. Who doesn't love variety?
Abutting the Canopy is the beginnings of an azalea hedge that runs all the way to a magnificent white pine near the back of the house. I say "beginning" because only one has bloomed so far--an alluring lilac-purple. Like the hibiscus I thought azaleas grew and flourished only in the South. Wrong. Eventually--in my life or in the life of those who come after me--the lilac will be joined by a couple different reds and a goldish yellow. Should be stunning in about five or ten years. "Sprinkled" amongst the hedge (I love sprinkling flowers.) are three hydrangea, a peony, a bouquet of daffodils, two bouquets of phlox, and a small pink dogwood. The latter would be larger and blooming by now if some careless COBG hadn't lawnmowered it a couple years ago. Ugh. Oh, and there are several daffodils and crocus under the white pine.
I think I'm going to put a bench over here for idling in the shade on those hot August days. The shade is a lovely place to spend an afternoon loafing thinking of all the things you should be doing but have no intention of doing now and have no intention of even feeling guilty about not doing them. Drop by some hot August day and see what I mean. I'll scoot over. If you sit here quietly. Only the birds are allowed to sing.
There is a small bed at the edge of the canopy. Quite primitive in structure; it's made from cement blocks. I call this bed The Lenten Rose Bed. It has five of them in there. They are the stars! Lenten Roses are amazing. They thrive in the shade. They are green year around. They grow remarkably tall. They bloom earlier than anything--late February or early March--except maybe the pussy willow by the pond. And they keep their blooms for most of the summer. Gorgeous things! And like other stars they need a supporting cast. In this bed that includes tulips, white grape hyacinth, allium, and a mystery plant that is huge each spring but has never bloomed. I wish I could find my old records to "discover" what it is and understand why it hasn't bloomed. I have another one in another bed that is sunny. Same result. Tall, luscious, bloomless every year. Even the resident expert--Mom--doesn't know what it is. That's a semi-miracle! Perhaps by time I'm 98 it will bloom, and I'll be able to tell you what it is. Until then, the mystery remains. Where's Sherlock when you need him?
Once upon a time this bed was the source of forget-me-nots that I spread all over the property. Beautiful little blue flowers that you would never be able to forget once you saw them. And do they love to spread themselves. Well, they used to love to spread themselves. This spring--nothing. (Okay, there are a few in the Blue Bed and the Spring Bed.) But I had those lovely little flowers all over my property, and this spring they decided as a group to not show up--to forget that I was counting on them to add some beauty to the Acres. I miss them. I remember them. They are all but gone. Sigh. I have no idea what happened to them. Of course, they are on my shopping list for next spring when I wander out to Baker's Acres--the nursery that has every flower known to man and myriads that they've "invented" themselves.
The stars of the actual canopy area are the bleeding hearts. I have loved bleeding hearts since I was a small tyke in Wellston, Missouri. There are four large red ones, three large white ones, a dwarf red one, and a dwarf white one all under the canopy. Marvelous! And their wild cousins are here too--Dutchman's Breeches by the score! Combined with the two gigantic ones in the rock garden by the house which is right across from the canopy, this is the land of the bleeding hearts--and no one has shed a tear. (Except for the missing forget-me-nots, of course.) The supporting cast for these stars? Aconite, tulips, lily-of-the-valley, grape hyacinth, crocus, daffodils, a zillion yellow corydalis, bluebells, lilies, hosta, dwarf iris, fall crocus, hardy cyclamen, and a lovely Japanese fern. And this is the area where I have wild yellow violets! And--we're not done yet--in front of this area are three container gardens: impatiens, snapdragons, alyssum, marigolds, morning glory, begonia, coleus, dianthus, petunia, bright eyes. Since this area gets a dab of morning sun yet is still shaded for much of the day, a variety of annuals thrive here. Who doesn't love variety?
Abutting the Canopy is the beginnings of an azalea hedge that runs all the way to a magnificent white pine near the back of the house. I say "beginning" because only one has bloomed so far--an alluring lilac-purple. Like the hibiscus I thought azaleas grew and flourished only in the South. Wrong. Eventually--in my life or in the life of those who come after me--the lilac will be joined by a couple different reds and a goldish yellow. Should be stunning in about five or ten years. "Sprinkled" amongst the hedge (I love sprinkling flowers.) are three hydrangea, a peony, a bouquet of daffodils, two bouquets of phlox, and a small pink dogwood. The latter would be larger and blooming by now if some careless COBG hadn't lawnmowered it a couple years ago. Ugh. Oh, and there are several daffodils and crocus under the white pine.
I think I'm going to put a bench over here for idling in the shade on those hot August days. The shade is a lovely place to spend an afternoon loafing thinking of all the things you should be doing but have no intention of doing now and have no intention of even feeling guilty about not doing them. Drop by some hot August day and see what I mean. I'll scoot over. If you sit here quietly. Only the birds are allowed to sing.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Chapter 12: Circling the House I
When I acquired Iten's Acres, there was some beauty already up near the house. It actually was rather picturesque to drive up the driveway toward the abode. You would swing around the ancient maple, and there, right in front of you, up a small hill, was the home. Not postcardish, but picturesque--especially after I removed the ugly old shed/garage in front of the place. There are several trees at the end of the driveway, a couple of hickory trees just to your right (buffet in the winter for squirrels, wild turkeys, and deer). If you arrive in spring--I didn't; I came in August--there is a beautiful red crab apple to the left of the house situated at the front of an old rock garden. Behind the crab apple in the rock garden, you would find two huge bleeding hearts. When I arrived in August, the rock garden had a plethora of beautiful ferns, a few gigantic hosta, and some pink ladies.
There is also a lovely pine tree right behind the rock garden. And there is a rose bush in front of the house and one in back. Unfortunately, the roses have only bloomed once in my six years here--dark reds. On the other side of the house is a small privacy fence with a collection of large blackberry bushes--three or four--close by. Can anybody say "cobbler"? (The only thing directly behind the house is a cowbell on the patio. I always know when my granddaughter Evie has arrived by the clanging of the bell. I haven't been able to find any more cowbell seeds though.)
Having taken ownership in August, I had no idea how stunning the crab apple was, and I had no idea the bleeding hearts even existed. And I also did not know the mystery of the pink ladies. You can't imagine how thrilled I was to see the bleeding hearts come up my first spring. They are enormous and lush! The mystery of the pink ladies? (They look like dainty pink day lilies--but that's not the mystery.) The mystery is that their foliage comes up in the spring--a gorgeous green. Then, the foliage dies away. And in late July or early August, presto! the flowers come up and bloom. Not knowing the mystery that first spring, you can imagine my consternation when the foliage started to die. I watered and watered and watered, and they still "died." I in my ignorance was heartbroken. And then in August as I was circling the house, pink beauties everywhere! Amazing! If only all mysteries could end so majestically. From "death" came glorious beauty--sounds theological, eh?
Naturally, having a serious case of floral discontent, I have added to the beauty around the house. One of the first things I tried was to put a large container garden right in front of the rock garden. I, also, planted a couple forsythia that I had brought up from Mom's. The forsythia are doing wonderfully; the container garden has been moved to the front patio. In its place is a real garden. I call it the Rainbow Garden. Why? When I decided to transform it, I gave all the flowers to an artist friend of mine and asked her to arrange the colors for me into a "rainbow." Wow! Did she ever! The focus of the bed are, of course, iris. whites, lilacs, peach, tangerine, blue, purple, yellow, ocher, pink, red, striped. It is a marvelous panorama of colors--a rainbow. But the iris are not all! In the middle of the bed and rapidly spreading everywhere are blue balloon flowers. They are, in a sense, an accidental bonus. When I was moving the container garden, the pot that had the balloon flower in it wouldn't budge when I tried to pick it up. Here, the roots of the plant had gone through the bottom of the planter and settled in. I surrendered to its "wishes" and left it there. I had no idea what a spreader it was. Six years ago--one blue balloon flower. Last summer--at least fifty blooms a day for weeks, and it's still spreading. (And every year I dig up a few and move them elsewhere.)
But that's not all! Also in this rainbow are a number of lilies, triteleia, star of David, tulips, bee balm, hollyhock, two large clumps of sunflowers, phlox, gladiola, a giant coneflower, larkspur, cosmos,and morning glory from seed, and this year, God threw in some smooth ruella--a beautiful blue trumpet-like wild flower. I guess He thought I needed a little more blue in the back corner. No complaints, trust me! And this is the bed that Mom can see from her observation post in her bedroom. She gets to enjoy it from mid-March to frost, from yellow forsythia and purple crocus to the red hollyhocks of September. No, it's not a coincidence that the beauty of that bed is by Mom's window seat.
(A tip: Don't pull things up if you're not sure what they are. I was tempted this spring to pull up the ruella and the coneflower because I thought they might be weeds. I waited--thankfully. Just in case they weren't weeds. Patience is a good thing, you know. It's amazing how God can turn "weeds" into gorgeous flowers if you just keep your hands off and let Him work.)
As mentioned before, I think, I have a few container gardens around the house. There is a small one in the parking area, one by the fence, two on the front patio, and one on the back patio. Every year I put calla lilies in the one in the parking area; it on its own brings back every year some morning glories and love-in-the-midst from seed. The bed by the fence has some morning glory for climbing the structure and some bright eyes and marigold. The two on the front patio are in the sun so I fill them with the appropriate annuals: marigold, snapdragon, petunia, dahlia, bright eyes, dianthus, salvia, floss flowers, lantana, geranium, garzania. (Yep, there are lots of pots.) The back container garden is in the shade so I fill them with the appropriate annuals: impatiens, allysum. lobelia, coleus. They all do well. Since they're close to the house, it takes a good frost to end their blooming. From mid-May I can take Mom out on either patio, and she has lots of "bouquets" to enjoy.
In addition, I planted a rhododendron near the back of the house on one side and a rose of Sharon on the other side. The rhododendron is lovely; the rose of Sharon has not yet bloomed. I also added some grape hyacinth, snowdrops, cyclamen, and lily-of-the valley under the pine tree. Also, on each side of the pine are a number of phlox, and at the back of the rock garden I snuck in a hydrangea. On the other side of the house, is a snowball bush that has not bloomed yet. Along the back of the house is a row of lilies--white, purple, red. Someday, I may put gutters on the house. Out here in the country I don't really need them, but if I put them up, I can put a couple of long flower beds on both sides of the house--one in the sun, one in the shade. My imagination is running wild as I type.
So, that's the area right next to the homestead. I'll give you the history of the other areas circling the house at a later date. But you can visit anytime and just sit with Mom on the patio awhile and enjoy the loveliness that is right at "your fingertips." You don't have to walk far--or walk at all--on Iten's Acres to enjoy its beauty.
There is also a lovely pine tree right behind the rock garden. And there is a rose bush in front of the house and one in back. Unfortunately, the roses have only bloomed once in my six years here--dark reds. On the other side of the house is a small privacy fence with a collection of large blackberry bushes--three or four--close by. Can anybody say "cobbler"? (The only thing directly behind the house is a cowbell on the patio. I always know when my granddaughter Evie has arrived by the clanging of the bell. I haven't been able to find any more cowbell seeds though.)
Having taken ownership in August, I had no idea how stunning the crab apple was, and I had no idea the bleeding hearts even existed. And I also did not know the mystery of the pink ladies. You can't imagine how thrilled I was to see the bleeding hearts come up my first spring. They are enormous and lush! The mystery of the pink ladies? (They look like dainty pink day lilies--but that's not the mystery.) The mystery is that their foliage comes up in the spring--a gorgeous green. Then, the foliage dies away. And in late July or early August, presto! the flowers come up and bloom. Not knowing the mystery that first spring, you can imagine my consternation when the foliage started to die. I watered and watered and watered, and they still "died." I in my ignorance was heartbroken. And then in August as I was circling the house, pink beauties everywhere! Amazing! If only all mysteries could end so majestically. From "death" came glorious beauty--sounds theological, eh?
Naturally, having a serious case of floral discontent, I have added to the beauty around the house. One of the first things I tried was to put a large container garden right in front of the rock garden. I, also, planted a couple forsythia that I had brought up from Mom's. The forsythia are doing wonderfully; the container garden has been moved to the front patio. In its place is a real garden. I call it the Rainbow Garden. Why? When I decided to transform it, I gave all the flowers to an artist friend of mine and asked her to arrange the colors for me into a "rainbow." Wow! Did she ever! The focus of the bed are, of course, iris. whites, lilacs, peach, tangerine, blue, purple, yellow, ocher, pink, red, striped. It is a marvelous panorama of colors--a rainbow. But the iris are not all! In the middle of the bed and rapidly spreading everywhere are blue balloon flowers. They are, in a sense, an accidental bonus. When I was moving the container garden, the pot that had the balloon flower in it wouldn't budge when I tried to pick it up. Here, the roots of the plant had gone through the bottom of the planter and settled in. I surrendered to its "wishes" and left it there. I had no idea what a spreader it was. Six years ago--one blue balloon flower. Last summer--at least fifty blooms a day for weeks, and it's still spreading. (And every year I dig up a few and move them elsewhere.)
But that's not all! Also in this rainbow are a number of lilies, triteleia, star of David, tulips, bee balm, hollyhock, two large clumps of sunflowers, phlox, gladiola, a giant coneflower, larkspur, cosmos,and morning glory from seed, and this year, God threw in some smooth ruella--a beautiful blue trumpet-like wild flower. I guess He thought I needed a little more blue in the back corner. No complaints, trust me! And this is the bed that Mom can see from her observation post in her bedroom. She gets to enjoy it from mid-March to frost, from yellow forsythia and purple crocus to the red hollyhocks of September. No, it's not a coincidence that the beauty of that bed is by Mom's window seat.
(A tip: Don't pull things up if you're not sure what they are. I was tempted this spring to pull up the ruella and the coneflower because I thought they might be weeds. I waited--thankfully. Just in case they weren't weeds. Patience is a good thing, you know. It's amazing how God can turn "weeds" into gorgeous flowers if you just keep your hands off and let Him work.)
As mentioned before, I think, I have a few container gardens around the house. There is a small one in the parking area, one by the fence, two on the front patio, and one on the back patio. Every year I put calla lilies in the one in the parking area; it on its own brings back every year some morning glories and love-in-the-midst from seed. The bed by the fence has some morning glory for climbing the structure and some bright eyes and marigold. The two on the front patio are in the sun so I fill them with the appropriate annuals: marigold, snapdragon, petunia, dahlia, bright eyes, dianthus, salvia, floss flowers, lantana, geranium, garzania. (Yep, there are lots of pots.) The back container garden is in the shade so I fill them with the appropriate annuals: impatiens, allysum. lobelia, coleus. They all do well. Since they're close to the house, it takes a good frost to end their blooming. From mid-May I can take Mom out on either patio, and she has lots of "bouquets" to enjoy.
In addition, I planted a rhododendron near the back of the house on one side and a rose of Sharon on the other side. The rhododendron is lovely; the rose of Sharon has not yet bloomed. I also added some grape hyacinth, snowdrops, cyclamen, and lily-of-the valley under the pine tree. Also, on each side of the pine are a number of phlox, and at the back of the rock garden I snuck in a hydrangea. On the other side of the house, is a snowball bush that has not bloomed yet. Along the back of the house is a row of lilies--white, purple, red. Someday, I may put gutters on the house. Out here in the country I don't really need them, but if I put them up, I can put a couple of long flower beds on both sides of the house--one in the sun, one in the shade. My imagination is running wild as I type.
So, that's the area right next to the homestead. I'll give you the history of the other areas circling the house at a later date. But you can visit anytime and just sit with Mom on the patio awhile and enjoy the loveliness that is right at "your fingertips." You don't have to walk far--or walk at all--on Iten's Acres to enjoy its beauty.
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