taraxacum pseudoroseum
With disproportionate excitement I’d like to announce the blooming of my special special pink dandelion. I started it from seed last year but this is the first time it has bloomed. Dandelions are perennials, who knew?! Oh how I’d love for my yard to be infested with these, but I’d need to nurture all the yellow dandelions too since I can’t tell them apart.
In this year’s gingerbread story, candy Jess was in her yard happily sticking colorful sprinkles on her gumdrop shrubbery when a freak snowstorm can along and RUINED EVERYTHING.
Matt and I have started a somewhat annual tradition of making gingerbread houses. I like to incorporate concept and narrative as I think about what to do. This year, I decided to build my own house.
I was most focused on my candy garden. I included my gumdrop arborvitae and candy cane Ilex crenata. And window boxes. The window boxes were a critical element. It appears that they are petunias and portulaca made of sprinkles and Nerds. The houses took around sixteen hours, but I could have spent many more adding more details and more candy plants.
It’s a condensed version of the side to conserve gingerbread, that’s why there’s only three candy cane sky pencils.
There was extensive discussion of gingerbread house ideology. Matt thought gingerbread houses should always live in winter, but I insisted that mine exists in June. The last step is always a festive powdered sugar snowstorm which hides all imperfections. This year was no different, you can’t fight the inevitable. So I made a sad gumdrop me, as sad about winter as real me. The End.
FoS 2018
Flowers of Sadness. The 2019 collection:
Reb 6/4
Stacey 6/4
José 7/12
Jessica 8/16
Ricky 8/11
Sarah 9/6
As noted earlier, the yard makes seeds for free. And since they would otherwise just plant themselves they are perfect for lazy (and/or busy) people. When I started writing out names and descriptions on the envelopes to send some to a friend, I decided it would be easier and more amusing to make labels instead. I’m kind of proud of my lazy logo for my new lifestyle brand.
My favorite day of the year has finally arrived. The first trip to the garden center of the year is as exciting for me as Christmas morning is for normal people. This special holiday is observed the Friday before Mother’s Day, when the greenhouses are filled with the most perfect bountiful buffet of plants before they get picked over by all those mothers. The place is Frerichs Farm in Warren, RI.
2nd and 3rd generation rosenkranz garden obsessives consider their options
REASONS THEY’RE BEST:
They are very nice people running a family farm.
The plants cost like half of what they cost at all the other garden centers. So one can either save 50% or buy twice as many plants. (twice as many plants!)
At the big box stores they feed the plants weird combinations of growth retardants and hormones. This is so they stay at a compact height to fit on the racks and bloom unnaturally early so people will buy them. Initially they look good but then stay the same size for months, finally shaking it off and thriving just in time for the frost. I’m all for chemicals that make the plants better, not worse. Mr. Frerich would never do this to his plants.
There are peacocks! Everyone likes peacocks.
2016-2019
It’s that time of year again. The catalogs arrive in droves. They all live on the kitchen table and I meander through them every morning while I eat my breakfast. It will be time to make some decisions soon, but I have very specific philosophies when it comes to seeds.
Mainly, I don't coddle them. I don't start them in January in toasty little pots and cater to their individual little whims of light and soil and temperature and fertilizer and timing. I put them in the ground. I water them. If they grow, they grow. If they don't grow, I don't buy them again. If you are also lazy but still want to make lots of plants for almost free, here are my recommendations:
June 18 • September 16
COSMOS: I prefer mine in cupcake format, but they come in many flavors. The foliage is frilly and tall with flowers at the top, so plant them behind the other things.
June 21 • August 9
ZINNIAS: As previously discussed, probably the most varied and impressive of the lot. Benary’s Giants that grow into compact shrubs. Mixed up Persian Carpets and Aztec Sunsets. Muted gradients of the Queens. Speckled Peppermint Sticks, fluffy Cactus, more Cupcakes, and the ones that just look like zinnias. The best feature is that most of the blooms change color as they age, so there’s always a pleasing and harmonious range of color no matter which palette you choose.
MARIGOLDS: Easy marigold madness. They practically grow into shrubs. I could have replaced the whole lawn with marigolds for approximately $11 in seeds. Some varieties smell nice and spicy, some smell like cat pee, I can never remember which is which. Good for diy Día de los Muertos celebrations.
If you want to make lots of plants for all the way free (self-seeding):
TIGER LILIES: The tiger lillies are champs. Other fancier lilies, not so much. Within a few years one plant turns into a row of plants. They get better every year, the oldest ones are now as tall as me. Another bonus is that their seeds are relatively heavy so instead of blowing around they drop and form nice clusters.
4 O’CLOCKS: For a bit of tropical flavor the magenta ones absolutely glow. I started with a mix of pink and yellow (within each flower. like two colors of play-doh mushed together), but since yellow was not allowed in that zone I pulled them all out and within a few years had solid pink. Last year I tried Salmon Sunset, less vibrant but pleasing nonetheless. Don’t fall for the Angel’s Trumpet, the flowers look amazing in the photo but the plant itself is a floppy, oddly sticky mess.
ASCLEPIA TUBEROSA (butterfly weed): I see them in catalogs for $14 a plant, those who purchase them are suckers. Just throw a few seeds on the ground and by August you can start your own Asclepia empire. They have milkweed-like seed pods so the seeds do fly around the yard a bit, but are not aggressive and are easily relocated or pulled up. They are starting to make them in different colors, which is very exciting. Deadhead compulsively for blooms through the fall.
MALLOW: Year one - 2 plants. Year two - 200 plants. I was pulling these things out of the lawn all summer but they’re just so lovely that it was worth it. Stake them or chop them back to keep them from falling over. They even come in an an assortment of colors and according to this article are good for everything from salads to melancholy to aphrodisiacs (I do not vouch for any of that).
MORNING GLORIES: One morning glory becomes infinite morning glories. Beware. Keep them away from the lawn. They are perfect for covering things like unsightly fences. The daily weaving of tendrils around posts and railings is quite meditative.
apology accepted.
A few years ago I got a surprise winter delivery of delightful yellow tulips. They were a Sorry My Mom Is Causing Drama bouquet. There’s usually a very narrow window of occasions to send flowers, and that really needs another look. But the point is, flowers make people happy, especially when they’re unexpected. In the past two years or so I’ve really gotten into making weird arrangements. And since I put all this effort into making flowers, I like to share them.
I have a friend who works at a large corporate office, where I also used to work. He drives by my house on his way there, so I occasionally send along The Flowers of Sadness. He gives them to the saddest person he can find, and makes their day a little bit better. My goal next year is to use the whole mason jar 12-pack. Fortunately there’s never a shortage of sad people there.
Chris 6/1
Ed 6/18
Rita 8/3
Crystal 8/21
Talia 9/17
Ricky 9/24
2018 WINNERS
Lantana/Calendula Corner: Located in the hottest, driest corner of the yard, surrounded by concrete and watered exclusively by dog pee, was happiest lantana I’ve ever grown. An honorable mention goes to the surrounding calendula, still blooming through Thanksgiving and 5 inches of snow. It doesn’t look good, but it still looks orange, which is impressive. #didntcatchanydogsonmylawn #technicallytheyarepeeingfromthesidewalk
Globe Amaranth (Gomphrena): Grew from seed into large abundant plants. No deadheading needed, each flower lasts for the entire season. Cute and perky. Dries well if you’re into that sort of thing. #balls!
All The Zinnias: As noted earlier, queen zinnias n’ friends mixed together were a cocktail of zinnia goodness. #theweirdoneisastrawflower
Verbena bonariensis: Self seeding, (aka free), these offspring from last year’s plant were growing mostly in the crack between the driveway and the garage slab. Transplanted without complaint they thrived in a desert zone where the hose doesn’t reach, creating a 20’ purple cloud. #nextyeartherewillbehundredsofthem
2018 LOSERS
Honeywort: I was expecting the one on the left, I got the one on the right. I don’t know what its problem was. Too hot? Too sunny? Too shady? Didn’t like eggplant neighbors? #mostdisappointingdisappointment
This Mess: In my defense, I didn’t think about it ahead of time. But for the City Tree Garden I carefully created this red/pink/orange/yellow gradient with the leftover plants from the annual spring shopping frenzy. There were some miscalculations. This photo is from August but it just got more terrible and lopsided and marigoldy until the frost finally put it out of its misery. #stillbetterthanalltheothercitytrees
Lisa Frank Window Boxes: They were supposed to be a tribute to my childhood trapper keeper. It was moderately successful. Some good moments but all the plants refused to be happy at the same time. Considered moving all the good ones to one box for winner photo op, but didn’t. It did better than last year’s Unicorn Swirl boxes, all 3 boxes are now variations on a theme instead of all matching. This amuses me. #theresalwaysnextyear
Rosé is having a bit of a moment. Once viewed as a a bit on the trashy side, recent attention from winemakers has rebranded it as a fun girls-night-out type of wine. The new Cosmo. In fact, I even had the pleasure of visiting Rosé Mansion in New York, a delightful Instagram dreamworld which is a story for another time. Back home enjoying a glass in my garden I realized that I had unintentionally cultivated the Rosé Garden.
yum.
While other parts of the garden have assigned colors/themes and a collection of compliant perennials, the pots, window boxes, and one bed in center of the backyard are exclusively annuals. Something new every year. Inspired by the newly available Queen Lime Orange and its lovely friend Zinderella peach, I decided to plant all the Queens. Queen Lime Red, Queen Lime Blush, even plain ol' Queen Lime. Plus some apricots and senorita pinks. Salmon four o'clocks. Pink Surprise calendula. All the Apricot/Peach and Silvery Rose strawflowers. The intention was a pinkish/peachish/blushist/salmonish/yellowish/limeish gradient, all mixed up together. It was pretty successful. The four o'clocks just need to be constantly cut back so they don't crush everyone else. Realizing that they were the timely color of Rosé - with hints of grapes and chardonnay and even a bit of merlot - felt like such a victory. Subconscious trend prediction. The Rosé Garden was meant to be.
the standouts: queen lime blush that appears to be glowing from the lavender center, and possibly a zinderella peach with perfect heart-shaped petals edged with a delicate blush pink.
Containers are for impulse buys and experiments. I would probably be attracted to the same things over and over, so new themes are a challenge to try something different.
Inspired by a Hulk-pants-purple verbena, Superheroes are the theme for this year's back steps container array. To be continued...
better than Kew, imo
In June of 2010 I had the good fortune to be able to slip away from a conference to visit the Denver Botanic Garden. I can't remember if I took a photo or if the snapshot just exists in my mind, but there was a field of hundreds of different irises in bloom.
I've visited several iris farms since then and am always quite dazzled. I have some fantastic white Siberian irises I stole from my mother's garden, but never got any more. It finally occurred to me why. Delayed gratification. Unlike their daylily cousins who can come home with you right away, or other bulbs that come up in a few months, you have to wait and wait and wait for irises. You choose in spring but can't take them home until fall. You plant them in fall but they don't bloom until spring. You have to wait a whole year! There's just so many other plants to buy that you can have right now.
I finally went through with it.
Behold, here is a preview of what I expect to see on May 23, 2019. Just like Denver.
Why hello little crocuses! Welcome back.
There were cutbacks to the fall 2016 bulb budget so nothing new this year, but it has given me a chance to reevaluate crocus plans going forward.
Because of their surprising and ephemeral nature I think it would be excellent to plant an image or message that would emerge in crocuses. I probably have this same idea every year but forget by fall when there are very different things to think about. Stay tuned...
artist's rendering
A plant that has been on my list for a while is Miss Willmott's Ghost, Eryngium giganteum. I saw it at the Wave Hill gardens, tall and strange and jarring among its pretty neighbors. Browsing my scabiosa options I came across the Miss Willmott scabiosa, and decided it would amuse me to grow Miss Willmott and her ghost together. They do have a visual balance that is quite pleasing.
mystery internet photo
rhs photo
But as I came across Miss Willmott's zinnia, and then her sweet pea, lilac, rose, and potentilla, I started to wonder who exactly is this Miss Willmott and why are there so many random flowers named after her?
A bit of searching brought up this lovely article - about an eccentric heiress spinster who was so passionate about her gardens that she blew her entire fortune on plants and gardeners to pamper them. So many plants were named for her and by her that one could have an entire willmottian estate, probably a lot like hers but with 99 fewer gardeners on staff. This story left me all the more excited about having her presence in my garden, and wondering what other ghosts might also be lurking.
2016 WINNERS
Hyacinth Bean Vine: Grows from seed without a fuss, purple pod gradient, and olive rainbow leaves? Yes, yes, and yes. Next year: Yes. Morning glories, your days are numbered. From now on the porch railing is all beans all the time.
This Tiny Boxwood: One trim and it stayed the same size and perfect shape all season. Next year: Yes. Keep showing the other shrubs how it's done, little boxwood!
Twisty Weed by Tree: No one knows what you are or where you came from but a unique sculptural piece. Smells like pee, otherwise would have been a secret weapon for arrangements. Next year: Yes, if it decides to return. Multiples will make it look more intentional.
Jazzy Mix Zinnias: Wide range of interesting flower designs, like little floral spirographs. Don't look too zinnia-y. Next year: Yes, but combined with something other than marigolds to showcase the color range. Maybe something blue.
2016 LOSERS
Weigela: Beautiful burgundy at the nursery, once planted you realize this is exactly the color of mulch. Invisible shrubs. Turns into a naked stick-y mess in the winter that needs to be cut back hard to even have leaves, so it never blooms. Next year: Reluctant Yes. Too much effort required to remove them, most likely will be ignored for the rest of time.
Cactus Mix Zinnias: Lack of cactus mix zinnias attributed to repeated bunny attacks. Next year: Yes. Further research with bunz-be-gone products required.
Lotus Vine: One flower all season. One! Next year: Maybe. It's ugliness and weird claw shaped flowers are strangely alluring. Nice silver foliage.
Weed that Looks Like a Giant Dandelion at Edge of Lawn: Refused to make perfect round puffballs this year for me to spray with hairspray and add to hip arrangements. Got mowed as punishment. Next year: Maybe. Imperfect unharvested puffballs threw lots of seeds, perhaps a more choice spot will yield better results.
Vertical garden walls are a trend that just won't quit. Probably because they are exciting and magical. But terribly difficult to maintain. The big ones must have special irrigation systems and magic gnomes that come in at night to groom them. Pinterest likes to disseminate vertical diy fantasies, like hanging gutters on a fence and using them to grow your organic herbs in a visually pleasing vertical way. This is a great idea, as long as you are committed to watering every two hours as they bake in the August sun.
I was inspired, but decided to make things a little easier by making my vertical garden horizontal.
With many experiments and failures I've finally found the right plants that fill in nicely and are unfazed by being covered with five feet of snow. Mostly succulents, this zone is a desert climate since it is the part of the yard furthest away from the hose. I'm aware this is ridiculous, but I usually find working on it kind of meditative.
This is what it looks like right now. Unruly sections get need to get replanted. The roots of the neighbors' tree eventually push the dividers out of the ground. I have to dig up the plants, chomp around with the clippers to get rid of the roots, then move them back in. This season I only got halfway through before it was abandoned for other projects. But there's always next year. As depressing as the frost is, there is comfort in knowing that there will always be a do-over. All the things left undone won't matter, all shortcomings erased. So it's time to go inside and make plans for next year, when I will totally whip this garden right back into shape.
For anyone perhaps new to bulbs, here is my assessment after 5 or 6 years of growing them. Maybe I’ve achieved the status of Intermediate Bulb Grower. Maybe not. Anyway, this is what I think you should know:
•Bulbs will just grow. They don’t need any water or attention. Too bad they don’t make ones that bloom all summer.
•You will forget what you planted and where you planted it, so you will be giving yourself a surprise. It’s usually pretty difficult to do that.
•If you like the fancy ones, get them at Brent and Becky's. If you like the standard ones go buy large quantities of them at a discount store (but don’t buy the peonies there. I fell for that once)
CROCUS: Yeah, you need to do these ones. It doesn’t matter what kind, just plant a lot of them. Because just when winter has lasted forever and you feel like you cannot handle one more day, you will notice one tiny little crocus coming up and your will to live will be restored. Don’t worry about planting them in your perfect lawn, by the time it wakes up there will be no trace that the crocuses were ever there.
momma tulips with little tulip babies
TULIPS: If you think of tulips as annuals you will be far less disappointed. Generally, they will be spectacular the first season and fizzle out over the next 2-3 years, sometimes morphing into weird deformed versions of their former selves before they give up. Occasionally they come up as miniatures in later years, which I count as a win. I used to (not really. I still do it.) spend a lot of time cutting the pictures out of catalogs and assembling inventive color stories. But the blooms are short-lived and at different times, so carefully selected colors are not often even seen together. Think of it as more of a fireworks show that is different every week.
this was 2013. there's a solid daffodil wall now
DAFFODILS: These get better every year. They are a plant investment. I like the all white ones, especially the fluffy ones that look like peonies. Check out the bulb catalog, they can be far more interesting than you realized. Big ones, miniature ones, traditional ones and ones that look nothing like daffodils. Ones that have clusters of flowers on each stem, and ones that look like their petals are permanently being blown backwards. When it comes to narcissus, I challenge you to mix it up.
Bulbs! You can’t lose! Except when squirrels dig them up and eat them.