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."

May 12 , 2008

Luscious Larkspur

In my yard, annual larkspur is as easy as any perennial I've ever grown. It reseeds itself generously--even after I've harvested as many seeds as I can to give to friends. The tiny black seeds lie in wait all summer, finally sprouting when the weather cools in September.

The feathery seedlings sail right through Alabama's mild winters, shooting skyward when the weather warms. They start blooming in April, when my daffodils and tulips are in decline. For reasons I don't understand, purple ones bloom first, year after year. Lavender, pink and white ones follow.

Besides providing a gorgeous display, the larkspur flowers attract hummingbirds and butterflies, and they make a graceful, long-lasting cut flower in floral arrangements.

They peak in May and by June they'll be waning, but they dry exceptionally well, which helps me to enjoy them year-round. I cut the stalks when about half the blossoms have opened, since they'll continue to open when they start drying. I hang bunches of about 10 stems upside down in my basement, near a vent. To arrange them, I anchor the dried stems in glass marbles, along with dried roses, statice, and lavender.

All this from an annual that reseeds itself so thickly it crowds out spring weeds. What could be better?

January 14 , 2008

The Great Indoors

Winters are mild in Alabama, and I've come to appreciate their special charm. Still, I spend more time indoors during the winter months and most of my gardening is focused on house plants.

I'm old enough to remember the 70s, when terrariums were all the rage. (They were popular in Victorian times, too, but I'm not that old.) It seems that they've recently experienced a resurgence in popularity, and last fall I decided to take a refresher course at the Birmingham Botanical Gardens. I came home with a terrarium of my own but the plants didn't thrive in their long, low container (in my eagerness, I'm sure I crammed too many in there). I took it apart and transplanted the small fern (unknown species), climbing fig (Ficus pumila) and aluminum plant (Pilea cadierei) into an old goldfish bowl, along with mosses and pebbles that I'd gathered on my walks around my neighborhood.

I call my new creation a bottle garden since it's not closed like a classic terrarium. And because of the opening, it does require some watering to compensate for the water vapor that escapes. You have to be careful not to overdo it. For me, a few ice cubes seem to work best. They melt very slowly, allowing the water to distribute itself evenly.

It amazes me how well the plants thrive in a thin layer of soil and low light, but they seem to get cozy in their glass home, just as I do when I sink into an overstuffed chair within sight of my bottle garden, wrap an afghan around my shoulders and start leafing through my latest seed catalogue.

Previous Years' wisdom:

2007

2006

2005