The plastic garden
On the label of an old painting, I came across a word we rarely see: “stooks,” meaning erect bindings of wheat or other sheaves dotting a field, ready for transport to granaries or ranches. You still see bales of newly cut hay spread over farm fields, but today they’re encased in massive wraps of plastic. How much of this packaging, on how many millions of acres of Plastic Prairie, is added to the world’s nonbiodegradable waste load every year? According to Statistica.com, the volume has reached eight billion metric tons. Plastic, says oceanographer Charles Moore, is a worse threat to life on Earth than is climate change. And we don’t only have “Plastic Prairies” to worry about; the household garden, too, has become plasticized. We gardeners could do more to reject these products of the petrochemical industry in our own plots, but, judging from the volume of plastic goods being bought at garden supply store, “Home Hardware” has become Home Plasticware. When was the last time you lifted a watering can that was actually a can? A “can” is a metal thing, but metal is scarce in most suburban gardens. Hoses used to hang on curved metal brackets, and chicken wire was actual wire. Walls were once made of the stones dug out of the cleared forest soil by homesteaders. Tool handles were made of wood, not rubbery plastic whose grip we have been persuaded we prefer. Gripping handles of wood creates a kinship with the early pioneers who fashioned tools from hand-hewn branches, but many young gardeners have probably never in their lives held a tool with a wooden handle. Look around the garden supply centre next time you visit, and notice that not only are seedlings sold in plastic pots, but large plastic bins are sold as permanent plant containers. Patio “paving” is made of rubbery plastic mats and rose starter roots are sold in sock-like plastic bags. Even rakes have lost the long flexible metal fingers that delicately gathered up fall leaves; now the rake head is made of polyethylene. Even the iconic “Adirondack” chair, is sold in a hard plastic form instead of its traditional wood. Designed in the early twentieth century by Thomas Lee of Massachusetts, the teak Adirondack chair with its wide arm rests and a sloping slatted back was meant for resting on after a day of digging, leaning back to enjoy the sunset after a hard day’s work. Somehow, you can’t rest properly on acrylic and sealants. A sunset doesn’t look the same from a plastic chair. Fanciful? Maybe. Much of what occurs in the horticultural world is fanciful and romantic. We have been persuaded that plastic “weathers” better than wood, but that’s a misapprehension. It lasts for millions of years, yes, but only as garbage. It soon looks shabby, becoming stained, cracked and moldy years sooner than does cedar, hemlock or willow. Then it goes to the landfill, and from there as shards and chunks into rivers and oceans where the chunks may look to turtles and albatrosses like food. “Poly” say the product labels, which may mean polyethylene, polyurethane, or the polypropylene-fiber which ends up in tap water, and in our garden hoses, with which we water our vegetables. I may be stepping on some latex-gumbooted toes here, but the popularity of “polytunnels” seems particularly disturbing. Yes, these transparent thermoplastic polyacrylates do allow for year-round gardening with controlled temperature and light, but so does the old-fashioned glass greenhouse, that iconic artistic Victorian-Edwardian staple found both on landscapes and in literature. (Apparently the first greenhouse appeared at Oxford University’s Botanic Gardens in 1637.) The UN (www.unep.org) says there could be more plastic than fish in the oceans by 2050. That’s because, according to National Geographic, 91% of plastic is never recycled. That means that we gardeners (like consumers and businesses of all sorts) need to reject it at its sources. Once manufactured, it’s eternal. So now, at the garden supply centre, I ask where the “natural products section” is. (Sometimes I get puzzled looks.) For centuries the great horticulturalists, from Capability Brown to Gertrude Jekyll, managed brilliantly with natural-fiber seed pots, rubber hoses, wooden birdfeeders and biodegradable twine—and their metal tools were robust enough to be passed down for generations. It’s time to bring these out of the museums and back to the household garden. The plastic garden originally appeared on GardenRant on August 31, 2021. The post The plastic garden appeared first on GardenRant. Via Gardening http://www.rssmix.com/via Blogger http://wendyimmiller.blogspot.com/2021/08/the-plastic-garden.html September 01, 2021 at 02:47AM
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How to have a Great-Looking Native Plant Garden
Adrian Higgins’s Washington Post column this week turned readers on to a wise native-plant designer of such projects as the New Jersey Pine Barrens – Darrel Morrison, now a hearty 84. (If you don’t subscribe to the Post, you can probably access it through your public library’s website.) Anyone wanting to enhance their home landscapes with native plants could learn a lot from Morrison. From Higgins, too. Here’s the meatiest passage:
First, I appreciate both writers citing the importance of aesthetics, affirming that it’s right and natural for us to want beauty in our yards. Second, they’ve pinpointed why so many native-plant gardens don’t look very good, why they don’t look like gardens at all. To look their best, native plants need scale – enough space for sweeps and masses, more space than most gardeners have. Morrison’s memoir is Beauty of the Wild: A Life Designing Landscapes Inspired by Nature. How to have a Great-Looking Native Plant Garden originally appeared on GardenRant on August 27, 2021. The post How to have a Great-Looking Native Plant Garden appeared first on GardenRant. Via Gardening http://www.rssmix.com/via Blogger http://wendyimmiller.blogspot.com/2021/08/how-to-have-great-looking-native-plant.html August 28, 2021 at 02:47AM
Where do you hide your weeds?
We all do it. Sometimes we do it in other people’s gardens and we really shouldn’t. I mean the random weeding as you walk round the garden, deep in conversation with a friend. Suddenly distracted by the sight of a bad plant in the wrong place we interrupt the conversation and leap into a flower bed to heave it out. Or sometimes, more discreetly, we just bend and gently remove the weed. And then what? You don’t want to spend the rest of the walk clutching a wilting weed. Especially since that will inhibit your attempts to remove any other ones. And ideally you have a glass in the other hand. Well, what is a hedge for? There’s almost always room underneath for the odd weed, given a bit of kicking and shoving to tidy it up. A shrub is good for this too. I remember a time when Charles used to tell me off for shoving weeds under hedges and shrubs. I notice that he does it too these days. It’s good feed for the hedge, of course, a bit of dead plant. A little distraction helps, of course – you hope everyone will look to the left, just in case you left a bit poking out.. Sometimes the shrubs are large enough and loose enough for you to just chuck: Though you need to chuck carefully – sometimes this just leaves a weed dangling rather conspicuously in the shrub. But it’s better than being so proud of what you got out that you leave it on the path, expecting applause. Another answer is to throw it over a fence, into a neighbouring field, to generously feed the sheep:
There was a time when I pursued a rather good answer to this problem: weeding baskets, scattered strategically around the garden, waiting to have weeds dropped in. As you can see they tended to get rather full. Sadly, they also used to get wet, and stay wet with sodden weeds, so they rotted. Painting wicker was a bit of a pain, and the baskets quite expensive, so this Great Idea fell into disuse. Plastic tubs work quite well though – And why would you not do some casual weeding in a friend’s garden? Because you cannot be sure you share the same view of what a weed is. Not everyone has a ground elder bed, whereas I’m very fond of mine. But, on the other hand, I have offered visitors bags to put this in, to take away with them: Helpful people have filled bags for me, but have never taken them away with them. And people have been known to cultivate bindweed. It is quite pretty…. Just now, this is one of our favourite parts of the garden, and you might say that it’s full of weed…. it’s simply ancient pasture (over 200 years unploughed, I believe) with extras planted in somewhat randomly. I love it! Don’t you? Where do you hide your weeds? originally appeared on GardenRant on August 26, 2021. The post Where do you hide your weeds? appeared first on GardenRant. Via Gardening http://www.rssmix.com/via Blogger http://wendyimmiller.blogspot.com/2021/08/where-do-you-hide-your-weeds.html August 26, 2021 at 05:47PM
The grumpy bulb forcer’s lament
It’s a bit sad when the lilies drop their final petals, the hosta leaves start to brown, and it’s time to deadhead the last double rudbeckia. One of the ways I cheer myself up is by firing up my bulb-related ventures: I do both outdoor bulb planting and indoor bulb forcing. The outdoor part is mainly species tulips and hybrid tulips, planted in the ground and in large pots. The indoor forcing involves hyacinths, tazettas, and hybrid tulips. It requires a short and simple list of supplies: bulbs, soil, and pots. Not a heavy lift, right? Wrong. Anyone looking for small pots at the end of the summer season is already swimming upstream, because most garden centers assume, reasonably, that the potting season is at an end. There were usually a few places, though, that would still have decent supplies of small to medium-sized ceramic pots. I like to force in these because they’re easy to move around and nice to give as gifts when the bulbs are ready to come out, conveniently near the holidays. But now there’s a new problem. Pot manufacturers and retailers have decided to go all-in for pots with no drainage. Instead of seeing, at most, a 50-50 split between the two types, the nondraining pots are creeping into the majority. Having seen how hyacinth roots work and having familiarity with rotten bulbs and roots, I’m sticking with traditional drainage holes at the bottom of any pot I use. (Nice little pots like the one at top are perfect for my needs.) Wouldn’t the houseplant craze help with year-round small pot availability? After all, houseplants know no season. Not really. Either the pots sold at houseplant places are going for silly prices or these vendors, too, don’t find drainage necessary. Apparently, there’s now potting media that doesn’t need drainage. (I’ll let our houseplant ranter, Johanna address that one.) Looks like I’ll be driving all over Western New York pot-hunting. Ha. Much more difficult to get than the other kind. An important heads-up: Due either to shortages mysteriously caused by the pandemic or the millions of new gardeners who are hopping on the bulb wagon, my favorite hyacinth supplier was sold out of every variety I usually get by mid-August. Larger companies also had a surprising amount of sold-out items, though these don’t even carry the unusual or heirloom types I look for. Buy your bulbs now! And here’s another tip for those interested. I have found planting bulbs in large pots that get stored in an unheated garage or shed over the winter to be very rewarding and just may help with animal issues. This is a piece I wrote on it. The grumpy bulb forcer’s lament originally appeared on GardenRant on August 25, 2021. The post The grumpy bulb forcer’s lament appeared first on GardenRant. Via Gardening http://www.rssmix.com/via Blogger http://wendyimmiller.blogspot.com/2021/08/the-grumpy-bulb-forcers-lament.html August 26, 2021 at 03:47AM
Trashing trees. Why on earth?
Let me count the ways to trash trees. I’ll start with careless butchery done every day by lawn mowers and string trimmers. I’ll add volcano mulch piled up around trees by jackleg landscapers. Then there are trees pruned like coat racks— unmercifully and unnecessarily. These treacherous pea-brained practices can be avoided. Stay three feet away from a tree’s trunk with mechanical equipment; don’t mulch trees to look like Vesuvian mole hills and allow a shade tree to grow naturally when there is ample space. Or plant smaller trees when there is not. Tree decline and death are often careless consequences of the stubborn, misinformed, greedy and criminal.Clear cutting the Amazon rainforest for another acre of soybeans is morally indefensible. Inside Climate News reports more carbon is spewing from the Amazon basin than is being absorbed. The public risk isn’t clear to everyone. I can’t see the damage, but my mind aches if I dwell on a planet in downward spiral. This past July was the hottest month, on earth, in recorded history. I bear witness when I walk out the door. I smell smoke from western USA wildfires and rub my burning eyes. We are all local.My tree-hugging friend, Tim Morton, shared a Facebook Post, earlier this month, from Louisville Councilwoman Nicole George that sadly informed her constituents: “The destruction of the newly planted trees on South 3rd Street is hurtful. It isn’t about the trees, which can be replaced, it’s about what the trees symbolized to neighbors (i.e., investment, connection and sweat equity) that makes me sad. Fortunately, Louisville Grows shows up even when it is difficult.”
Facebook readers agreed with Councilwoman George. Others were dumbfounded and angry by the slash-and-trash prowler(s). Why on earth would anyone do this? Horrible Terribleness Someone needs a switch pulled from one of those trees applied rigorously to their hind ends. Oh, that stinks! People can be ridiculously stupid. What has our community come to? We are surrounded by idiots. So much ugly hatred in the world now Mercifully, there are good—very good—community-wide tree lovers and planters in Louisville. Ked Stanfield, Executive Director of Louisville Grows, responded in an email: “We had about 12 trees damaged. Some were uprooted, some were snapped in half. We replanted and staked the ones that were uprooted and splinted a few of the ones that were snapped that seemed salvageable…We are going to wait until this fall to replace some and wait until the spring to see if some of the others continue to leaf out and replace the ones that didn’t make it.” Matt Spalding, Education and Volunteer Program Manager, of Louisville’s Olmsted Parks Conservancy, explained further: “The short answer is size—the larger the tree, the harder it is to damage. Usually, it appears that kids have done the damage. When we’re sourcing trees, especially specimen trees meant to be set out in the landscape, surrounded by turf grass, we try for balled and burlapped, or at least 1.5-2” trunk diameter. On occasion, if we find the right selection but it’s a smaller container, we’ll still go ahead and plant it. These small trees are the ones that get uprooted. When that happens, we note it, order a bigger one and replace the next fall. Don’t get me started on beech bark carvings!” Planting more trees alone won’t curb global warming, but it is a potent counter offensive against a troubling view that the effects of climate could be irreversible. We need healthy, public green spaces that cool down tempers and neighborhoods—everywhere. Is there a better, more innovative, way to teach one another how to plant, properly tend and dignify trees for the common good? TreesLouisville has offered a $1000 reward for the arrest and conviction of the person(s) responsible for the maliciousness. I hope the angry perp(s) are exposed and sentenced to a long-stretch on a community tree-planting gang. I would follow up by requiring the penitent to write Joyce Kilmer’s poem on the blackboard one-hundred times… “I think that I shall never see A poem as lovely as a tree…” Trashing trees. Why on earth? originally appeared on GardenRant on August 23, 2021. The post Trashing trees. Why on earth? appeared first on GardenRant. Via Gardening http://www.rssmix.com/via Blogger http://wendyimmiller.blogspot.com/2021/08/trashing-trees-why-on-earth.html August 23, 2021 at 09:47PM
Virtual GardenComm Conference was So Good, I have to Eat my Words
For months I whined about the 2021 GardenComm symposium being online – again. I was SO looking forward to driving from Maryland to Williamsburg, VA and getting a big dose of in-person socializing, networking, and learning. But when the event came last week, the weather was SO hot and humid in Virginia, we were better off tuning in from our climate-controlled homes instead of touring gardens half the day. So my whining abated but I was still skeptical – I mean, who isn’t Zoomed-out by now, right? But the Covid variant has brought a sudden halt to the untethered socializing we were enjoying so recently, so by late August going virtual was best after all. (Those lucky Cultivate attendees in July!) In the end, I’m humbled to admit that I was wrong! Because GardenComm 2021 was terrific. Here’s why: The Talks!One huge benefit of virtual is that presenters can be anywhere, so they can be the very best – in the world! Thus, the quality of the presentations was sky-high and I learned a bunch from the talks I “attended” (about Instagram, iPhone photography, and e-newsletters). Even the subjects I have no interest in pursuing professionally – selling books or making a living from speaking – I watched and was inspired by the speakers’ smarts and by their entrepreneurial creativity and gumption. And I’m not alone. One commenter on Facebook wrote that “Amy Stewart shared her amazing visual document that she included with her book proposal to a publisher. It was creative and set her apart from everyone else’s proposals. It was genius.” More Cool Content
Technical GlitchesOf course there was a technical glitch or two. One that I experienced was during a networking session, which for some reason didn’t use Zoom and boy, did we learn to appreciate how well Zoom works! That’s because first, no names were displayed and even worse, when new people entered the “room” their photos were blocked by our own images. So in the screen shot above by C.L. Fornari, notice that she saw herself on the far right instead of new entrant Kirk Brown, who thankfully had created a sign so we knew who it was. It was frustrating but kinda fun, too, as we tackled the technical challenge together. How To AccessGood news! The events were all recorded and they’re now on the event website for participants to watch. (Whereas normally we’d have to choose one of three concurrent events to attend, this way we can see them all!) That link will work until August 29, after which GardenComm will create links to individual talks available for purchase ($20 for members, $30 for nonmembers) and those who were already registered for the conference will get a link that they can access through October 31. Didn’t register? You can do it now and watch the whole conference, using this link. The cost is $199 for members and $269 for non-members. (Members can use the code: gcfinal at checkout.) From the Organizers – Comments and Lessons LearnedC0nference co-chair C.L. Fornari wrote in an email:
Co-chair Carol Michel wrote:
A Song from Sally On a final note, MUCH thanks to the organizers for their hard work and creativity, and to the sponsors for their continuing support of garden communicators! I’ll give communicator par excellence Sally Cunningham the last word in her singing toast. Virtual GardenComm Conference was So Good, I have to Eat my Words originally appeared on GardenRant on August 20, 2021. The post Virtual GardenComm Conference was So Good, I have to Eat my Words appeared first on GardenRant. Via Gardening http://www.rssmix.com/via Blogger http://wendyimmiller.blogspot.com/2021/08/virtual-gardencomm-conference-was-so.html August 20, 2021 at 11:47PM
The greenhouse is up! End of journey, or beginning?
“You mean you grow all these plants without a greenhouse?!?” came the shocked question during a tour of my garden last weekend.
“Yes,” was the answer. A resounding yes. A yes that has been a wry yes for all of the seed starting and propagating and make-doing that has characterized my gardening life to this point. And, over the last decade of working with subtropicals and tropicals, a self-satisfied, smug yes. A yes that I’ve earned through trial and error, and which leaves its mark not only in knowledge gained and two books written, but in a deeper understanding of what it means to long for something. And now, also as of this weekend (coincidentally and chaotically), a greenhouse emerges in the middle of all that cold-framed foliage and basement-stored bloom. What to think of it?
Skills built without a greenhouse.I stood in the garden yesterday morning contemplating that question – what to think of it? – and then realized ten minutes later that I wasn’t thinking about IT at all, but everything that existed before the greenhouse. That mental space is a very safe, very confident place. It’s a great place to hang out instead of musing over the hundreds of dollars of plants I may very well kill in the first three months of owning this thing. As of this weekend, I’m in undiscovered country. It’s as if you just handed me my first tomato seedling and a trowel. The green part goes above the soil, right? Yes. But sometimes no. So much to learn.
Worrying. Instead I thought of the milk-jugs I used to save in order to start seeds outside in the winter, tired of giving over the top of my washing machine and refrigerator in a tiny house where every square inch was precious.
I thought of standing in front of a 50-foot roll of 6ml plastic at Home Depot – hemming and hawing over the $29.99 price tag as toddlers struggled to get out of the cart, sending 10 foot lengths of CPVC pipe rolling down the aisle.
I thought of the first $39.99 temporary “greenhouse” that I splurged on with grocery funds at an Aldi’s in Pennsylvania. Nothing more than a cold frame, but a useful investment as it allowed me to harden off hundreds of seedlings without shuffling trays indoors on March evenings. I still use that rack as pot storage.
I thought of the wooden cold frame I constructed with the bits and pieces of a building project, and two old window sashes removed from our last house. The glass panes made me feel as if I was getting closer to the dream of greenhouse ownership. Despite my pathetic-woodworking skills it had solidity. Even if it was only 2×4 feet of solidity.
And I thought of the decision that I finally made to stop talking about it and commit to specifically saving for a greenhouse – no backtracking. For it had to be that kind of decision. I am ridiculously and often stupidly frugal. Necessity vs. DesireShamefacedly I admit that almost everything substantial around here is calculated by the inflexible laws of ROI – Return on Investment. Creatives can immediately see the major flaw in this strategy. Art is rarely about ROI unless you are collecting, not creating; and in my opinion, creating a garden is one of the highest forms of art. Could there possibly be Greenhouse ROI for a gardener who did not sell her plants, or charge to have her garden toured, or even monetized her damn website?
No. It had to be about something else. A new skill to learn — a new adventure in gardening. Fundamentals to study, new plants to try, a new phase in my gardening life. A different kind of ROI – an investment in my growth as a gardener. I made the decision from that confident place: Look at all I can do without a greenhouse! Imagine what I can do when I’ve actually got one! It never occurred to me that it would terrify the hell out of me. I’ll get over it. But it is a curious feeling nonetheless. – MW The greenhouse is up! End of journey, or beginning? originally appeared on GardenRant on August 19, 2021. The post The greenhouse is up! End of journey, or beginning? appeared first on GardenRant. Via Gardening http://www.rssmix.com/via Blogger http://wendyimmiller.blogspot.com/2021/08/the-greenhouse-is-up-end-of-journey-or.html August 20, 2021 at 01:47AM
Getting Hosed in the August Garden; Another Letter from the Midwest
August 18, 2021 Cincinnati, Ohio Dear Marianne, I apologize that I have again taken too long responding to your most recent letter. As you might recall, the main subject of your letter was how you managed to survive a great flood. The most harrowing part was about how your husband, Michael, using everything he learned about coming ashore on foreign beaches during his years with the Marine Corps, managed to ford raging waters to save two old vehicles, each of substantial sentimental value, from certain loss. I was especially moved by the part where he grabbed a pair of endangered otters with his free hand, threw them in the back, strapped them into car seats, and wound up saving their species by driving them to higher ground just as a barn that would have crushed them all floated by. Of course, I made up this last part but the loss of so much of your garden was just so heartbreaking that even a month later I feel a nervous need to lighten things up. I did something kind of similar once. Twenty five years ago, maybe more. We were vacationing in Michigan–Michele, me, our kids, my sister, her then husband, and their kids. It was late afternoon and the kids were playing video games while the adults drank vodka and tonics on the porch and watched as a powerful storm crossed the lake. Next thing I know, huge waves are battering their motorboat and threatening to wash it off the lift, and, just as suddenly, my sister’s soon-to-be-ex and I are out there in the maelstrom trying to lash it down. This, as a thousand white-hot bolts of lightning laid waste to every tree in a three mile radius except for the two towering cottonwoods that whipped in the wind above us like inflatable tube men at a Kia dealership. True story. You might have heard, God looks out for children and drunken men. I don’t think I’d do anything like that now. I mean, screw the boat. It was Phil’s and I hardly even liked him anyway. Besides, since then I have seen way too many drunken men swiftly dispatched, killed totally dead, to believe in that dumb expression anymore. Our problem here is the opposite of yours–three weeks without rain. And hot! Remember last August when we carried on and on about how awful August is? We were onto something there. Frankly, I’ve been overwhelmed. It took a while, but a lifestyle of trying to do too much all the time finally caught up with me. I got really, really stressed out, and, I’ve been told, a bit surly. I might need some time off. Off from work. Off from home. Off from writing. Off from dragging hoses. Time to do nothing but exist. Exist like a reptile exists. Just eat, drink, and, if I so choose, watch as the other reptiles come and go from the swim up bar. Maybe something like this would allow the tension to wind itself down from “Code Red: Catastrophic Failure Imminent” to simply “Code Yellow: Safe Working Load Exceeded.” But, until I actually get around to planning a reptilian vacation, I’m dragging hoses. And hoses are the work of the devil! Evil, terrible products. Horrendous inventions from the very beginning. Inventions that, despite all our space exploration, computing prowess, 3D printing capacity, 24-hour cable news, live-streaming, smoke detectors, time shares, and a million other technological advancements, have never gotten any better! If you go back and read the primary sources, which I have done, early gardeners recorded complaint after complaint of hoses that kink, get caught on any protruding rock or stick or blade of grass, and beat up and bedraggle any young plants they get dragged over. In all my experience, and in all the experience of my friends, none of this has changed. You should see what people are writing on Reddit! I was shocked to learn that garden hoses are a leading cause of divorce. Over 100,000 just last year! Last week I had a bad day. A truly rotten day. And then I had one kink in my hose too many. Now, I’m not proud of this, but I found myself standing there in my yard, gazing back and forth between my garden hose and a properly positioned tree branch. And you know what I was thinking? I was wondering if anyone has ever hanged themselves with a garden hose. Marianne, on that day, in that heat, I might have tried it had I even the foggiest notion of how to tie a noose. But I didn’t, so I grabbed my string trimmer and became an Angel of Death for many weeds that really, really wanted to live. Besides, for such a protest to truly be effective, hanging myself in my backyard with a garden hose simply would not do. It would have to be done in the parking lot of the Acme Garden Hose, TV remote, and Instruction Manual Company. Right as the Board Meeting was breaking up and thereby making witnesses out of all the top brass, causing them to have to talk to the cops and miss things they were looking forward to. This is how you make change in America, but, unfortunately, it takes the kind of planning I never have time for. A final word about your flood. It was pretty devastating to hear of the losses you suffered. So much of what drives us in gardening is the vision of what our investment in time, money, and passion will someday yield. To have that so suddenly taken away is tough. Of course, the only thing to do is double down and dig in. Determine to persevere. Be stubborn. Be more stubborn than the whole spiteful, powerful Universe, and all the deer, rabbits, floods, fires, late frosts, invasive exotic pests, and any other slings and arrows it contains. It gets to where things seem futile, but once in a while, despite the odds, sheer pigheaded stubbornness actually pays off. And, when that happens, there you are, bewildered, and looking at something that resembles your vision coming to fruition. Insane! And it is pure, life-affirming, joyful triumph. Which, of course, only just encourages more stubbornness. Which results in a great many episodes of crushing heartache. Then, just as you’re about to quit, another unexpected joyful triumph! It’s a lot like gambling addiction. But, that said, apart from the heat and lack of rain the last three weeks, this has been a good gardening year and it sure has been nice to get in a little social time during the intermission between the Pandemic’s first act and its second. One of those social occasions, of course, was when you and Louisa drove down to Cincinnati and stayed with us after the Cultivate Show in Columbus. That was great fun and I can’t remember so much laughter! Sure, I got a little testy and might have said some things later in the evening when it became apparent that you and Michele were well on your way to becoming better friends than we are. I had, of course, predicted this very thing early on in our friendship. I knew it would happen. I had just wanted it to take longer in hopes that maybe having the regular presence of a younger, attractive woman in my life might give me a little leverage. For a while, anyway. Maybe it would cause Michele to try a little harder or something. Like maybe be around when I’m trying assemble an Ikea product or something. Anyway, I think that’s what was eating at me. That and the fact that I didn’t understand half the stuff you guys were laughing about and became convinced that most of it was at my expense. But I got over it. I always do. And it was really exciting to receive a package in the mail from you a few weeks later. Of course, it included some wild mushrooms, which I almost threw away because I thought they were packing material. Thankfully Michele caught me just in the nick of time. I looked up how to cook “wood ears” and we will soon try them. Side note for our readers: If Michele and I should die in agony as a result of eating poisonous “wood ears,” someone, anyone, please call the authorities. Michele absolutely adored the cutesy little Jane Austen book you sent, which, of course, inspired her to reply with this effusive thank you note like some kind of anachronistic British lunatic. My dearest Mrs. Willburn, You can hardly imagine the excitement that sparkled through our household when the post brought your mysterious package! We were all astonishment. Such a bounty of treasure! What delights lay within! Oh, the mirth when Mr. Beuerlein beheld the fruits of the forest you bestowed upon us, no doubt plucked from their hidden bower by some loyal manservant! You simply MUST impart the secret of how best to prepare these woodland treats, and also how to store them until Cook can turn her attention to them. And what a marvelous little book was inside the package sealed with your signet wax! Surely you don’t think I myself could POSSIBLY be in need of instruction in the womanly arts; yet how very thoughtful of you to provide such a useful handbook so that I might improve the domestic sensibilities of my daughter-in-law, and of any future grand-daughters who will need to be settled with husbands. Oh, what a rigorous grand-mamma I shall be! However, the finest gift of all was the unparalleled pleasure of having you and dear Mrs. Zimmerman-Roberts stop with us in our humble cottage. Taking a turn about the garden in your company was a splendid experience long anticipated. And what a diverting evening followed! I can hardly remember when I have enjoyed so much merriment. And such a refreshing wine you provided. It was my pleasure to reciprocate by sharing my favourite Bingley’s Tea with you the following morning. “Marianne’s Wild Abandon”–is that not the most amusing name for a tea? I can hardly contain my mirth at the memory of surprising you with it. I trust you and Louisa were conveyed safely home to the bosom of your families. Mr. Beuerlein and I are counting the days when we might gaze upon your famous country estate, Oldmeadow, which we understand is the talk of the district. In fact, Mr. Beuerlein has become quite tiresome in that he will not cease chattering about spending the Season in Virginia. “Marianne this” and “Marianne that”–it sends him into such transports of joy that he is quite driving me to distraction. There is nothing for it but to plan our journey, to give my poor nerves some rest. Oh, but surely you have guessed that I am being cross merely in jest. I assure you that I long to visit you and the excellent Mr. Willburn every bit as much as Mr. Beuerlein, though without his gibbering excesses. Until that golden hour of reunion, I remain yours, Michele Beuerlein I truly hope I don’t come to hate you both. Anyway, it is August. The world is hot. The garden is tired. I’m tired. The hibiscus and rudbeckia and anemones are trying to lure me outside into the heat of day and sometimes they do. And, as long as I’m out there, might as well drag some hoses and keep some of the garden alive. Early morning and evening can sometimes be pleasant enough, and the lower angle of the sun this time of year makes for some dramatic and beautiful highlights in the garden. The other day an idea came to me. I think this time of year, late summer, is like 1:00AM at the pub for bugs. And, yes, I said pub. As in that new Irish one they built at the mall where the KMart used to be. The one that has some giant, fake family crest facing the PF Chang’s. Where there are always soccer matches on half of the TVs. Where some of the bartenders wear kilts. And where, occasionally, late at night, the regulars break out into doleful tunes they learned from Pogues records. Anyway, yes, after all of that, this time of year is, for bugs, just like 1:00AM in a Midwestern, suburban, Irish/Scottish pseudo-pub. It’s late. The bugs are all tired. Drunk. Emotional. For no real reason, one of them launches into a raspy, rhythmic, late summer song and all the other bugs quickly join in. Suddenly, the trees and weeds are filled with music. For me, those songs foreshadow fall’s beautiful and bittersweet melancholy. Which, in turn, foreshadows winter’s cold, dark need for spring. Time drives inevitably forward. Try as I might, I can’t seem to slow it down or claim a little more of it as mine. It’s frustrating. All I really want is to experience a little more of each day. Alas. Anyway, I promise I’ll reply sooner next time. Until then, I am yours, standing in line behind Michele and slowly coming to the realization that she’s mouthing words because your facial expression can no longer contain your “mirth.” Ugh. Scott Getting Hosed in the August Garden; Another Letter from the Midwest originally appeared on GardenRant on August 18, 2021. The post Getting Hosed in the August Garden; Another Letter from the Midwest appeared first on GardenRant. Via Gardening http://www.rssmix.com/via Blogger http://wendyimmiller.blogspot.com/2021/08/getting-hosed-in-august-garden-another.html August 19, 2021 at 12:48AM
August 2021 FRSAN-NE Newsletter
This is a bilingual newsletter. Spanish content is below the English.** **Este es un boletín bilingüe. Para inglés busque abajo, para español continúe abajo.** Our newsletter this month is a double feature, combining both July and August updates! This FRSAN-NE newsletter focuses on language justice and the incredible Language Justice team working in our network. From cohort project proposals... Via Gardening http://www.rssmix.com/via Blogger http://wendyimmiller.blogspot.com/2021/08/august-2021-frsan-ne-newsletter.html August 17, 2021 at 05:47AM
Stop torturing your houseplants: first in a series
Overheard recently in my plant shop: two ladies talking about the products. One picked up a pot and turned to her friend and said, “It’s very Instagram chic to have a pot like this.” Instagram-chic? And herein lies the main issue with houseplant culture—people are more focused on the appearance of their plants and creating “chic” images than they are on owning and caring for the plants themselves. This is the first of a series of posts on how social media culture is driving many common houseplant abuses. First up: Frequent—and unnecessary—repotting Odds are any Plant Tuber (yes, that is a term now, too) you bring up on YouTube will have their channels flooded with repotting videos. Repotting has become the plant culture’s fireside chat. These videos are often more about personal anecdotes and drama rather than actual repotting and they’re full of inaccurate information. There are many issues with these videos, but perhaps the most glaring is that they lead people to believe that repotting is necessary, when in fact it rarely is. The most common plant problem I see come through my doors is superfluous and inappropriate repotting. Plants are often potted up in pots several sizes too big, in inappropriate soil, and in pots without drainage. Many of these Plant Tubers & Grammers flash photos and videos of what they call “root porn” which often shows, you guessed it, roots. What they insinuate with these images is that if one sees roots then it must need to be repotted. Or if there’s roots coming out of the bottom of the pot (image at top), then it must need to be repotted, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Roots seek moisture. Where’s moisture? At the bottom. Because: gravity. Repotting houseplants often causes stress to the plant. One is changing an environment where they have been comfortably growing for some time to a new environment. Many houseplants have small root systems and don’t need a lot of room. People often think if they give their plants more space, they’ll grow bigger. Or they think if humans don’t like to be in crowded spaces, surely plants don’t either. But that’s exactly how plants live in jungles. They like to be crowded. Most plants are perfectly happy living in the same pots for years on end. All they need is maybe a little topping of worm castings or some fertilizer to give them a little boost in the active growing season. Plants also tend to do better a little bit rootbound than otherwise, often producing flowers (spathiphyllum, anthurium, and hoya are good examples here) and better foliage Plants would much rather prefer to be left alone. More plants have been killed by helicopter-plant-parenting than they have by neglect. Next topic: Leca and other “hip” potting mediums Stop torturing your houseplants: first in a series originally appeared on GardenRant on August 16, 2021. The post Stop torturing your houseplants: first in a series appeared first on GardenRant. Via Gardening http://www.rssmix.com/via Blogger http://wendyimmiller.blogspot.com/2021/08/stop-torturing-your-houseplants-first.html August 17, 2021 at 03:47AM |