Cultivating garden wisdom
Gardening reveals a lot of truths about
the natural world. It teaches the lessons of reward for patience and
persistence. And it helps to foster a sage's sense of hope and renewal.
I believe it's a way of cultivating wisdom.
Passers-by might be surprised that a garden writer lives here. My yard doesn't compare very favorably with those that I profile for gardening magazines. I'm almost always a season behind schedule, and weeds have sprung up where I meant to mulch months ago. But like all gardeners, I'm full of hope and I treat my many gardening failures as learning experiences.
Welcome to my seasonal gardening blog. I'll spotlight the gardening issues I'm grappling with in my own yard and I'll share some of the gardening wisdom I've gained by "trowel and error."
October 9, 2007
Heavenly Mornings
 Morning glories are a weed in my part of the country. They sprout everywhere, smothering entire shrubs and wrestling weak-stemmed flowers to the ground. Still, I've always been enchanted by their colorful blooms, and when I saw the 'Heavenly Blue' variety growing at Jones Valley Urban Farm a few years ago, I decided I must have some. I finally ordered the seeds this spring and planted them where they would grow up around my front porch.
They languished during the spring drought and I was thinking about pulling them up. Then we went away for a week. The morning after I returned I opened the blinds in my study, which overlooks the front porch. I gasped at the huge , sky-blue blooms that greeted me. Then the dry year became the worst drought on record, and they looked so bad I thought about tearing them out of there, but I hestitated.
In the middle of September, we finally got 2.5" of rain, the first significant rain in months. They sprang into high gear after that and have somehow kept it up even though we've had no more than light sprinkles since then.
Next year I'm likely to deal with an unprecedented number of morning glory seedlings and I may yet curse the day I opened that packet of seeds. But for now, I think they're worth it. July 6, 2007
Fantastic Foliage
Recently, I and others on my church's flower committee raised funds by arranging flowers for a wedding. Because of the flower preferences, not to mention the extended drought, we bought most of the flowers but we collected all the greenery we used.
The bride and attendants carried presentation-style arm bouquets of calla lilies. Leaves from my aspidistra and 'Royal Standard' hosta formed a lush background for the calla lilies, and a few sprigs of evergreen periwinkle softened the edges.
When I'm planning my garden, I usually think in terms of flowers, fruits and vegetables. But foliage is an important element, too. Greenery is an essential backdrop for brighter colors and itself comes in a range of hues and textures. And attractive foliage isn't limited to green. 'Purple Heart' tradescantia and 'Silver King'artemesia provide rich color and contrast during this summer's record-breaking drought. They help fill the gaps between blooming cycles.
Incredible Edibles
The bride wanted fresh flowers on the cake, and the baker wanted the florist to apply them. That meant the members of my church's flower committee, who were providing the wedding flowers as a fund-raiser.
I started to say no, that we couldn't do it. But then I started researching, realized I was growing some good candidates, and got hooked on the idea.
It's riskier than it might appear. Many flowers and leaves are poisonous, and even those that are edible must be free of pesticides, so we couldn't simply use roses from the florist.
 What we did use was the lavender blooms of althea, or rose of Sharon, along with mountain mint, bachelor's buttons, and a few sprigs of lavender and rose buds, all from my organically grown yard.
Rose of Sharon is not a durable flower. Like a daylily, each blossom lasts only a day. But when it's well hydrated it will hold up for several hours, even out of water. I picked the buds the night before the wedding, recut the stems at an angle (under water--to eliminate any air pockets), and when they opened the next morning they were firm and full.
The flowers went on the cake about 2 hours before the 2:00 PM wedding, and even at 5 PM they had a good shape, just beginning to darken slightly around the edges of the petals.
Since then, I've started adding their petals to salads. They're mildly sweet, not exactly delicious, but the flavor blends well with lettuce and other greens, and I find them much more palatable than the better-known edible, nasturtium.
Edible flowers will add welcome color and subtle flavor to salads and other dishes. It's another good reason to garden organically.
March 25 , 2007
Seeds of Curiosity
I used to start seeds in my basement under fluorescent lights every winter, giving me a head start on the season. This year I was not so organized, but I did finally get around to sorting my seed packets several weeks ago. Some have been in the fridge for years and may or may not even be viable. Others were given to me by relatives and friends—no telling how long they've been stored, and under what conditions. In recent years I've been collecting them faster than I've been using them.
So I gathered several old packets of annual seeds—Baby's Breath, Bells of Ireland, Bachelor's Buttons and many others—and simply scattered them on a flat of potting soil. I raked the surface, watered it well and set it out to bask in the sun. I figured that at least some of them would be viable, and I'd just take pot luck.
Just a few days later, some are already beginning to emerge. I can still see the seed husks they're coming from, and I wish now I had paid closer attention to what I was planting. I'll have to wait until they're much farther along to know what I have. It's already an exciting process of discovery, and I can't think of a more fun way to use up a hodgepodge collection of old seeds.
Tulips fovever?
I planted 'Menton' tulips in my front yard  in the fall of 2004. Tulips are not supposed to come back in my climate, but these do. They might be a little smaller this year, and maybe eventually I'll need to replant them, but I'm perfectly happy with their performance in their 3rd year.
I learned a tip from Barbara Pleasant, when I heard her speak at the Birmingham Botanical Gardens: plant them deeper than the recommended depth so that they'll withstand our hot summers. I planted them about 8-10 inches deep, and it seems to have worked for me.
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