Friday, January 6, 2017

Pruning Roses

Today I pruned my roses.

You may reasonably wonder why I should be doing that in January. My garden rejoices in the presence of, I think, 25 rose bushes. Some of these are bush roses, such as Fru Dagmar Hartrup and Harrison's Peach, some are species such as R. glauca, (formerly R. rubrifolia), and R. woodsia the native Smooth Rose, but most of the others are David Austin roses. I find them quite hardy here, although in a winters where the deep cold arrives before the deep snow, they may die back to only a few inches above the graft. Most years they do fine.

This year the roses stayed green and even put up the occasional flower well into December. Some of the later canes reached inspiring heights. Mary Rose went up into the crabapple tree and bloomed between clusters of deep red crabapples. An attractive colour combination, but a somewhat absurd sight nonetheless. Gertrude Jekyll, always an original thinker, headed up into the cedar clump nearby and thrust her pale pink double blooms out from between the green sprays at about the 6' level. For once, I had to reach up to sniff.

Which is one of the fine things about the David Austins - their fragrance. Most smell like the roses of old, that is, sweet and fruity. Very few of the modern tea roses have much in the way of fragrance, and if they do it tends to be a muddle of cheap colognes and aftershaves. The shrub roses rarely have any scent, and most of the so-called Explorer roses, such as John Cabot and Champlain, have no scent at all.

There is one of the Explorers that I like very much. It has clusters of small dark red roses, a very lovely rich colour, and a habit of blooming for weeks. It came labelled Heritage but of course it isn't. It might be Champlain but I have no record of having purchased that.  Seafoam, also not an Austin, has no scent but its small white suffused with pale rose blooms, in graceful clusters, come all summer long. It is one of the last to bloom. In fact, some of the canes I just cut back had (frozen) buds on them. Seafoam, at least the one I have, has a very bad habit of growing horizontally. This leads to lots of bloom, but also seriously scratched ankles. I did cut it back severely a few years ago, but it didn't take kindly to this treatment and sulked for a long time. Only this past summer has it started to forgive me and gone back to its usual rampaging approach to life. For a long time, I thought this rose was Iceberg, but some research has shown me that is wrong too, and it must be Seafoam, which is what I thought before someone convinced me it was really Iceberg. Sigh, and big Note To Self, I really must make good permanent labels for my rose bushes.

Normally, I would have trimmed the roses back in November, but this year it was so warm I was afraid it would encourage them into new growth, so I left them. But they looked fairly silly, not to mention reproachful, sticking up above the deep snow.
rose garden in the snow

Not wanting to fill my boots with snow, I got out on my snowshoes and trimmed them all back to just above the snow. Other than the canes getting caught in my wool coat, it was pretty easy. One cane fell rather far from where I was standing and tumbled over the low fence and I thought, 'darn, now I have to walk all the way around' in true post-holiday laziness, but it turned out to be quite possible to use another long cane to fish it back within reach.

First time I ever trimmed roses on snowshoes.

Saturday, December 31, 2016

Garden Dreams

In summer we garden, in winter we dream...


And today was particularly good for dreaming! It snowed pretty much all day, soft fat flakes which fell gently until a gust of wind suddenly blew them all sideways like a curtain. I went out and wandered around, dreaming, enjoying the soft air and the romantic look of the trees half hidden by the falling snow.

And the small trees, so tender, so hopeful, so noticeable now as they never are in the summer.
spruce, pine, beech in snow
 I love how the snow, and it is deep this year, covers the garden and lets me see the shapes and forms around me.

Next year, I must think more about the overall structure of my garden. Should that cedar clump go? Where should I put the yellow-fruited crabapple I absolutely must get... does that level of the hillside need to be a little higher...  can I get used to those grasses that look miserable all winter or is it time for a massive excavation project... ah, the pleasures of dreaming, with none of the actual effort!


I wish you all the best for 2017, and hope you will have time for garden dreaming.

Happy New Year!

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

Merry Christmas to All

Christmas greeting with raven and crabapples

I hope you are all enjoying this Christmas season as much as I am! The snow is beautiful, the garden is safely asleep. All my pottery orders for this year are done and I have many plans for next year. While I miss my late husband very much, I am taking joy in the visits of dear friends and much-loved family. As I decorate the house with pine boughs and oak leaves, deep brown cones and Santas collected over the years, I am aware of how blessed I am in my life here in the woods.

I wish I could share it with all of you; meanwhile, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas, and a very Bright and Happy New Year.


Monday, December 12, 2016

Snow

On rose hips,


And crabapples,


On fences,


And shrubs,


On Coneflower and


Black-eyed Susan seed heads,
Snow re-writes the story of the garden.


Tuesday, October 25, 2016

A Last (For This Year) Look At Asters

Last Asters... there's a pun in there somewhere but I can't think of it. Never mind, there are some Asters which, while quite common in the Ottawa area, are well worth looking at.

Asters can be very difficult to identify. Several species have very close cousins which look much alike, making them hard to tell apart, and in all cases growing conditions can really affect how a plant looks. Several species can vary from only a couple of inches tall in bad situations to several feet tall in good situations. Flowers can be very variable in colour and size. And to make it even more of a challenge, Asters are notorious for crossing and back-crossing. Hybrids are quite common, often the results of our native Asters crossing with non-native garden Asters. 

short white native aster Symphyotrichum lateriflorum calicoLet's start with possibly the least common, at least in gardens, Calico Aster or Symphyotrichum lateriflorum.  This is one of the earliest to bloom, often showing up in wild places in early July. It isn't very tall, usually less than 18", and the flowers, while numerous, aren't impressive. What is fun about them, though, is that the centres, which in the Compositae are the actual flowers (disc flowers as opposed to the merely decorative ray flowers), start yellow and fade to reddish mauve and then brown. All three colours are on the plant at the same time, giving it a motley appearance and its name, Calico Aster. Calico is easy to cultivate. It develops rosettes at ground level in the fall, which are easily uprooted and moved. It doesn't spread particularly, although it sometimes seeds around. It likes dry sunny situations.
Large-leaved Aster collage Eurybia macrophylla

Slightly, but only slightly, more common in gardens is Large-leaved Aster, Eurybia macrophylla. When it does occur in a garden, it is either a woodland garden or the gardener has some sort of ulterior motive. It spreads a lot and takes serious managing. In the wild it is found in open spots under trees or along verges. It can form large carpets of its dry raspy leaves.

Usually, only a few plants in a patch will put up flower stalks, although this varies according to the clone and the growing conditions. In the woods you might see a patch 50' across with only 5 or 6 stalks. A couple of years ago I happened to be in a campground in Algonquin Park and I was surprised to see a large patch with many flower stalks and nicely mauve flowers. The flowers are more usually white. I later got some seeds and now I have a small patch growing along my fence row which this year produced one stalk of mauve flowers.

Large-leaved Aster spreads by stolons which are right at or just below the surface. You can restrain it by removing these, but be warned, they put out new ones all summer long. No keeping this one down!

native white aster Heath Aster Eurybia ericoides
Another uncommon one is Heath Aster, Eurybia ericoides. Its name comes from the many many small leaves (reminiscent of heather) all along the stems and in among the flowers. Not that it is easy to find them once the flowers open because Heath Aster in bloom is a cloud of white. It is about 2 to 3' tall, bushy and sturdy. Once established, it will be covered in white froth from early September to October. Definitely a late bloomer, but so welcome in the fall border. It spreads like all Asters, but is easily enough controlled. In too-dry situations it is apt to mildew although that never seems to affect the blooming and you won't see it anyway.

The description of Heath Aster in the field guides makes it hard to identify, but once you have seen a plant you won't have any more trouble with it. Its overall appearance is very distinctive.

Lance-leaved Aster, Symphyotrichum lanceolatum, sounds very similar in the books, but is quite different in the field. It is taller than Heath Aster, going up to a good 3', spreads to form a patch rather than a large clump, and blooms quite a bit earlier. The stem leaves are long and narrow, hence the name.

S. lanceolatum is useful in the wild garden. It fills its space, mingles with whatever is around it, and looks healthy all summer long. You can keep it in its assigned space by pulling the stems you don't want, they come right up and you can either start more patches or add to your compost collection. It likes a fair amount of sun but isn't fussy.

Different clones of this one can have slightly different appearances, some taller, some shorter, the occasional one pale pink or pale mauve, some stems soft and 'bendy' and others very stiff and straight.

Now let's look at a pair of Asters, one of which is very common here, and the other which is more common than you might think.
native aster symphyotrichum cordifolium
Heart-leaved Aster, Symphyotrichum cordifolium, is probably the Aster you will see the most of if you hike in the woods in the Ottawa area. It starts blooming early and continues late. The heart-shaped leaves in rosettes pressed to the ground are everywhere it can find some sun, openings in the woods, along driveways, roads, fields, even our gardens. You have probably pulled it as a weed!

In the pictures above, note the heart-shaped leaf partway up the flowering stem. Only the leaves right at the flower branches are oval, all the others are clearly heart-shaped.

It us usually a soft blue-mauve, but can be white and occasionally, pale pink. It mixes well in the border, and like all the Asters, is much appreciated by the bees and wasps. A large plant can be filled with happy buzzing from several species of bees.

Close in appearance, but a different species, is Symphyotrichum ciliolatum, Lindley's Aster or Fringed Blue Aster. At first glance you might think it a slightly bluer, slightly 'looser', slightly more spreading Heart-leaved Aster, but look again.
The leaves partway up the stems are pointed oval, not heart-shaped, and have winged stalks. Leaves near the ground, while still clearly oval, will not have the 'wings'. S. ciliolatum gets a bit taller than S. cordifolium, maybe 3' to its 2 1/2', and the flowers are held farther apart, giving an airier and more graceful effect. In the garden it behaves exactly the same as its cousin.

Last, but absolutely not least, this is New England Aster, Symphyotrichum novae-angliae. Yousee it, lots of it, every fall, in every old field and neglected edge in the Valley.

native aster New England Aster

Easy to grow, a nice 'presence' in the wild garden or even the traditional border, and you can find a number of colour forms for sale in the nurseries. Some of the varieties sold in the nurseries were developed in Germany, which means that they may not bloom here until very late in the season. The only one of these that I have is called 'Andenken an Alma Potsche' which mouthful I usually shorten in my mind to 'Alma'. She is an unusual deep coral red. Not an easy colour to mix into a garden, and she blooms so late there is little to accompany her. If it is chilly enough, Alma is quite red, otherwise she comes out deep coral.  The colours shown above all appeared naturally at my place and I am trying to preserve them. The white one in particular is gorgeous. This year it bloomed spectacularly behind a patch of deep pink Turtleheads. It would have been a garden triumph except that I also had a tall white-blooming hosta there and the hosta flowers threw everything off. Next year, somebody is moving.

Another clone I have, which has fine amethyst-coloured flowers, blooms very early. It opens its first blooms in July, and continues through until well into September. It too will have to move next spring as it is at the very edge of the garden and keeps getting stepped on, but it is definitely a keeper.

So, some of our native asters. There are more, but they are fairly rare and some of them are not very impressive, garden-wise. All are beloved by the pollinators, all help give a garden a sense of 'place', all are excellent plants for slightly back in the border, and all bloom late when you really need them. Asters, frustrating but wonderful!


Sunday, October 2, 2016

Just A Ramblin' Girl...

In my last post I promised to take a look at some of the dry-land asters, but I'm too restless today and will postpone that one to maybe next week. Today I'm going to wander around in my patch and look at whatever catches my eye. Some days just aren't meant to be focused, some days are meant for ramblin'.

The Herb Garden is looking good. We had a little rain, and the plants have all responded by perking up and looking green again. I'm surprised by the roses - they seem to have all put out some new and very tall stems, straight up in the air (except Iceberg, of course, which sends it long shoots out horizontally to catch the gardener's ankles), with clusters of flowers at the tops. This one, Mary Rose, went up into the Crabapple tree. It looks a bit comical, one pink rose surrounded by a heavy crop of red crabapples, but I guess it beats the 'lollipop' look of the other bushes with their flowers waving in the air six feet above the rest of the bush.


The red thorns on the nameless one beside Iceberg are amazing.

When I started the garden here I decided, firmly and definitely, not to have either Roses or Bearded Iris. I have 23 Rose bushes and at least that many Iris.



Moving over to the edge of the Rockery I nearly stubbed my toe on a plant in a pot. I had purchased a nice bushy plant of a Persicaria, a cultivar named 'Golden Arrow', which has nice yellow-green leaves and small red flowers. It is supposed to stay under 18". I carried the plant around for a bit, mentally testing it in a number of places... then got the spade and dug a hole and got some compost and improved the hole and stuck the plant in and tamped it down and got some water and watered it, and stepped back, and, drum roll please, it was immediately obvious it was in the right place!

It's the round yellowy clump just above the middle in this not very good picture. It fits just right and should look even better next year when it expands a bit.

Funny how sometimes you get it right. I suppose it's also funny how often you don't, but maybe that isn't actually funny.

Planting this one plant did mean digging out about a pailful of Ajugas, something I consider a bonus. It would have been easier with a garden fork, but I don't have one right now. Broke mine the other day trying to lever out a largish rock. I seem to keep breaking my garden forks in the fall, when  I can't buy a new one because the stores don't carry them in the fall.


 




My Winterberry bush has two berries this year. Since this is a 100% increase over last year, I am not going to get discouraged.







The stems of False Solomon's Seal, now to be known as a Maianthemum, are elegantly arched, holding their messy heads of berries close to the ground. The squirrels and chippies always eat them, but they seem to wait for them to ripen. It's curious how the berries ripen at different rates.







Several of the Cardinal Flowers bloomed pink or pink-and-white. I grew them from seeds collected near the Marsh and planted them around the little pond in the Sampler Garden. They need more sun and bloomed quite late.

Several people got small plants of this from me, and I fear they will have been disappointed. I like the pink ones, but if you want red, well, oops.





The stems on the Virginia Creeper are beautifully red. Here the berries are still green, but in a few days they will be dark purplish blue. Virginia Creepers don't bloom (and have berries) until they reach a certain age, then they sometimes fruit quite prolifically. This has been a good year for them, maybe they like drought?


Red stems on the Sumachs. I like their furriness, but hate their spready-ness. Sumachs have every intention, I do believe, of taking over the world. Sort of like Ajugas.

I wonder what would happen if you planted a patch with all the bad spreaders - Sumach, Ajuga, Geranium sanguineum, Goldenrod and so on- would they achieve a stable state, a sort of 'detente cordiale', or would they annihilate themselves and then get replaced by something kind and gentle like maybe a race of Violets? Not that I'm going to try it, I really don't think the Violets are very likely.








Lovely stems on the Apocynums. The leaves turn a bright yellow, too, giving quite a fine effect a bit later on. This is another candidate for the field of spreaders.












A lone plant of Agastache foeniculum, Anise Hyssop, has snuck in among a patch of Heart-leaved Aster. This Agastache has a wonderful licorice scent and makes great tea. Just put a few leaves in a pot, with maybe a few lemon-scented leaves like Lemon Verbena or Lemon Balm, and pour on boiling water. Refreshing to drink and it will remind you why you have a herb garden. Not that the Agastache will stay in the garden, but you'll find it somewhere nearby.


These two are tucked in under the skirts of a (also very spreadish) shrub Rose. I'm not sure which Rose this is, it was sold as R. caroliniana and it might be but I haven't checked. The flowers on this rose are single and lovely (what rose isn't?) but it's real beauty is its hips.

That brings me back to the front door... it's been a fine ramble!