The Cosmos

It took me over a week to pull the Democrat primary fliers off of the borage. This is my confession. Had I made time for maintenance, I would have noticed that the cosmos seeds had finally grown into their own and that the borage has come down. The dayflower may not have taken over quite as much as the chartreuse potato vine, and the pots, yes the potted plants would be just a little less, shall we say, tan. Of course there is little I could have done with the advance of shade on the front yard and the plants there are keen on a solution, and even less I could have done about the spraying of herbicide under the yew tree, terminating my mayapples, lilies, monkshood, phlox, and yes, poke and smartweed. If I were a more attentive gardener, the lord may have not concocted such a browning scheme. Shall I say a few hail Marys now?

And the Solidago has fallen over, making it less appealing to me, as to the bumble bees that fly right on by.

The Russian Sage has bloomed for months; a proud, successful transplant of a well-dug-in, tap-rooted perennial. White Gaura is its friendly neighbor.

Appealing about this sage is its pubescent, lavender-colored calyces that outlast the pale blue flowers, extending the appearance of bloom far longer than the flowers alone.

The bumble bees also find it quite appealing.

But not, to these bees, as appealing as the large Heuchera, with it's small, white flowers nodding behind the autumn marooning Primrose leaves.

 Around it, a swarm of bumbles.

Sun To Shade

The three Zelkovas planted two years ago (or was it one?) are growing rapidly. The front yard garden used to get sun until 2 or so in the afternoon during May. Now, the shade sweeps across the garden from morning on; only a band of sunlight remaining during the early hours. The Zelkovas are not yet tall enough to block out the noon day sun of June, but they will be by next year, I think. This whole garden will change from yarrow, sedum, and roses to dicentra and monkshood in a few years.

The city planted these three trees, which form a wide V-shape, less than 8 feet from the building. Not well considered. One is directly in front of our stoop. When you stand at the top step you can tickle your face with the Zelkova's lanceolate leaves. The branches of the Zelkovas are low, and we are ducking under them to walk the sidewalk, yet unwilling to prune after neighborhood stories of fines for doing so. No, I do not want to become a certified pruner or whatever the title is. I understand the city's rationale, it's understandable, but I'm busy. Maybe this summer I will concoct a post on the "dumbness" of the Million Trees Program, maybe.

But it's not all complaints. This stretch used to be awfully hot in summertime, and now there is a light shade, a real comfort. Eventually our apartment will be less hot, reducing ac use, which we will like. The trees decorate this stretch of our small block, overall it makes the neighborhood softer, somehow more generous.

The New Dawn rose is becoming a monster with a twelve-foot span and ten foot height despite being increasingly shaded by the Zelkovas. This rose is incredibly healthy, even though it was ripped from another garden 4 or 5 years ago. The main stem is massively thick, and I can hardly keep the leaders under control. All three roses in this garden are exceptionally healthy and I regard the 8 hours of early sun and the heat reflected from wall and concrete to be the reason. Too much humidity, dampness, high dew points, and shade will take a rose down. Given the growth of the Zelkovas, I'll need to move mine before it comes to that.

April's May

Tradescantia, or Spiderwort, named so to honor the English naturalists John Tradescant the Elder and the Younger. Who knew? I prefer the moniker Spiderwort, most likely named because its leaves resemble the legs of spiders. I did not plant this Americas native* in our front yard garden, but there it is. A little weedy; meaning it pops up here or there. It does not like the heat of a summer sidewalk, preferring a partly sunny, moist woodland edge.

Aphids on a gloriously green, 'New Dawn' rose. Hey, birds, come on back!

The geranium and the carpenter bee. A myth or maybe a children's tale?

*Americas native -there are several Tradescantia native to both North and South America. Mine, while unknown, is likely a cultivated native of the northeastern American continent -such as Tradescantia virginiana.

Lord of the Land

I've received a couple of text messages concerned about the weather this coming weekend. Snow they say, freezing temperatures too. No matter say I, the garlic is fine and the weather on Sunday should be okay for planting. Yet, this morning, while preparing for work, I hear my landlord instructing one of his workers to cut back all the flowers. Wa?!? I race outside to see what is going on.

Yes, the asters and mums and sunflowers and gaura and cosmos have all leaned forward from the heavy rain, but also to beg for as much sun as possible. They extend out past the old iron fence at most 10 inches in spots. There is ample walkway for one, and what sour soul could demand that flowers be cut away so not one brushes the legs? 

Offended party now on the scene I want to know why he needs the flowers cut back to the fence line. Because of the snow, he says. So I can get the snow blower through, he says. THE SNOW BLOWER!?! It's only October I explain. I always cut back the plants after the first real freeze, which year in and out has tended to be anywhere from November to December. 

Fine, I say. But don't have your guy do it, I'll do it, like I always do long before it snows. I wrap the corner and see that his guy already did the side yard, hacking back the climbing hydrangea to the fence, trimming its graceful trusses to a jar head. Same for the cosmos, the chrysanthemums, and when he tells his guy to pull out my sunflowers I protested. Of course I want those, I planted them!

Snow. Yeah, right. 

Front Yard Finale

The front garden as it now stands.

I'm curious about the chrysanthemums that are darker in the shade. Those to the right are in sun, those to the left get much less sun because they are behind the rose.

The pink gaura is blooming again, one here, one there.

It's a long wait for the pineapple sage, Salvia elegans. First bloom the last week of October.

These asters are having their moment.

Hidden within the blast is another type of aster.

The bees love these.

The butterflyweed, Asclepias tuberosa, is finally sending off it's seeds like so many baby spiders.

Boltonia, another aster really, is the last to bloom. Just this week it has begun, one by one.

The Aster 'alma potschke' is wrapping up its season, along with the Eupatorium. Much like me, who's thinking about forgetting the garden for awhile. I think I'm ready for winter. Bring it on.

Lilies and Roses

The front yard garden yesterday evening.

This lily is blooming its head off.

I was excited to see the lily well-timed with the second bloom of grandma's tea. In the first two photos you will not see any roses. Someone enjoyed snipping them all off yesterday -for a vase or to make up.

Early Morning Asclepias

My single milkweed, butterfly weed, or Asclepias tuberosa, has grown to new heights this year. Last year it remained about 6 inches tall. This year, it tops the fence -probably due to all the competition and I am glad to see it could handle it. It is surrounded by yarrow millefolium (the white field yarrow), ordinary garden yarrow (yellow, with fuzzy gray leaves), and Allium sphaerocephalon.

So far, no butterflies.

This is the yellow lily, flying above a cloud of aster leaves, backed by a chorus of phlox.

Thank you swivel screen.

New Dawn

New Dawn has exploded while I was away.

And this year it is looking perfect. A man pulled up and asked if I could snip one for his wife.

I wish I had a better place to place it, as it climbs so eagerly, and flops so easily.

Cram Is My Middle Name

Overflowing front yard.

Where the work is. The side yard has a lot still going on. On the bottom left and right we have seedlings from seeds we sowed about two weeks ago. I've been weeding that area weekly. Above are two rectangular boxes that will be for bush beans -our most productive crop. Right now, one is filled with mixed greens. Above that are the irises, moved a month and a half ago, all flowers rotted before bloom. To the right of those, the evening primrose I pulled from a field in Maine 5 years ago. They will bloom on time, this weekend. Climbing hydrangea on the fence line.

On the far left are one of three boxes for tomatoes where the yew tree had been. Pots of herbs, including sage, mint, chives, oregano, thyme, and eventually parsley and basil. Birdhouse given to us by my brother in law two years ago, painted yesterday by my wife, will go on the old telephone pole you see dead center top. Two small-leafed blue hostas upper right, along with some phlox from the front yard, two lilies, aconitum, st. john's wort slowly reviving itself, a seedling sedum, coneflower, gaura, lily turf, and Johnson's blue geranium. Whew!

To the left of the birdhouse: one aster, three ferns, dicentra eximia, daylilies, tickseed, another johnson's blue geranium, and some phlox from the front yard. The two pink flowering plants are the dames rocket I don't mention (deadheading, deadheading). Alyssum seeds were strewn between the path stones. Of course, patio in center. Cram is my middle name.

Sickness Is Boredom

I've been sick with a cold and sinus infection for about 6 days now. Friday's visit to the doctor granted me the antibiotics I need to get this behind me. My job ensures that the sickness will linger, because I cannot take off to recuperate. It's finals, students are streaming in like fast- moving zombies. Working with students is a little like having 50 kids -you keep hearing your name called out while you are busy with something or someone else. They hover until you focus on their problem. You're doing the same thing all day, and it beings to seem incomprehensible that students are unprepared. I do not gripe at any teacher who needs their summers off. You need it to restore your balance after having so much need directed toward you. I wish I had the same opportunity, though, my chair just informed me that I will have to work until August 12.

I was supposed to travel out to my mom's today for mother's day. Instead, I'm staying in, getting that last bit of respite before I have to go back to work tomorrow. It will be 10 hours with the students tomorrow and Wednesday. Worse yet, we will have double the need both days because a student worker inadvertently signed up two students for every machine. We're in for it. The chaos will, I hope, not stress me out to the point of sickness re-constituting itself. Two weeks to go. Two weeks to go.

It seems a nice day out today, despite the wind. After some chicken soup (thankyou Betsy), I will step out and look at the garden. I need to get out of the house, off the couch. Sickness is boredom of the mind and body -even food becomes tasteless.

The growing conditions have been such that everything has been getting rather out of hand. I will need to get my hand back in there, with the pruner, with the twine.

All too many plants and way out of control. Spiderwort, two types of lilies, phlox, three kinds of aster, rudbeckia, sidalcea, and daylilies in this image. Asters will need to be roped-in and cut back. Lilies will need to be straightened up. When summer heat and humidity comes, this population density may turn into disease and decline.

I hacked the knockout rose hard, but it is hard to knock out. Coming back with vengeance.

'New Dawn' is beginning to bloom.

This year it is a monster, way too heavy for its skimpy trellis.

The honeysuckle is blooming, way on top of the rose. It lived here before the rose was plunked down, and has managed to hang on above the rose. I'd move it if I could get to it.

Grandma's tea is blooming more than ever, longer-lived flowers for these cooler days.

Please help me ID this probable weed. I imagine it gets little white and yellow ray flowers. I let it get huge this year, sucker that I am waiting to find out what it is. Gray-green stems, no prickers, upright habit.

Sad-sackery. The tomato seedlings got neglected due to my sickness. I went out today and there they were -all wilty. Watered them and put them in front of the pinks.

The yarrow is about to pop and, as always, is taking up more and more space. Needs to be tied up.

Tree Day Brings All Kinds of Excitement

I was taking some garden pictures, a neighbor passed and stopped to talk about his squirrels digging in his vegetable patch. Then this truck pulled up -knowing instantly what was about to happen. The ensuing traffic jam and noise, brought everyone out of their homes like those scenes in movies when the giant alien ship descends over the city. What's happening? Trees, my friends, trees.

I was right about the Zelkova serrata. We got three of them -an allee or avenue I suppose. This was all going to happen quite fast -first the placement. Notice telephone poles -lower right.

The hubbub brought the neighbors out past their stoops. Soon they were collecting on my corner -the center of all garden variety chatter in the quadrant (what I call our isolated 4 blocks).

It certainly brought out my landlord, to the right, concerned mostly about the day he will break that third tree with his old telephone poles. I insisted that it was not me who asked for these trees (to stem quiet neighbor speculation), although I was visibly excited by their arrival.

First, break up the sidewalk. I was happy to see that they were using two full squares, about 4 x 8 feet for the tree pits. Especially after seeing the presentation on this at the BBG a month ago. Our soil underneath the concrete sidewalk was relatively soft and dark -I was surprised. My landlord was upset about the cracking of the sidewalk (which was already cracked), but I suppose about the lifting and cracking to come as well. If you are getting sidewalk trees and/or redoing your sidewalk, see Dr. Bassuk's presentation.

The crowd cleared as the trucks moved on. The trees are tall, which pleases me as I am not much for low-limbed trees on the sidewalks. They appeared in good health, with no scars on the trunks. The tops were rather tangled though and stuck in their roped position. I'll need a ladder to untangle them.

I was concerned that they would leave the metal cage on - but they clipped the upper portion, leaving the lower portion intact. Burlap and twine was cut, lower portion intact.

Then the compost truck came, filling all the holes with about two cubic yards of soil and adding some rather stenchy cedar bark to top the pits off.

Tree on the right.

Tree on the left fears the telephone pole truck. Notice older Zelkova across the street, left side. Omitted: tree in the middle.

Shade cast next morning on the already late day shade location of the front yard.

Shade cast on the early morning shade part of the front yard garden.

Most of my perennials in the front yard are adapted to a long day of sun. Some will be thankful for the growing amount of shade over the coming years. Some will need to be moved to a sunnier locale after 5 - 7 years. The Zelkovas planted across the street have been around for about 10 years. They have reached nearly 18 feet tall and about as wide. They cast a medium dense shadow. They have a very wide v-shaped underside, having good reach all the way to the houses nearby. My garden now has a new directive. But the neighborhood too.

The beautification the trees bring gets neighbors talking about "eyesores." There's one I hear much about, as if I have any say in the matter (poles). In fact, so many neighbors came out yesterday that even the density of stray cats and who feeds them was discussed. With that, we may approach a compromise attempt to limit their numbers. One of the tree planting supervisors mentioned a group that may help spay and neuter with neighborhood participation after he saw 9 stray cats in a neighbor's driveway. We're looking into it.

Whole New Year

I'm very excited about the garden this year. In fact, this is going to be a stellar year for gardening. For one thing, I've shaken off the desire to grow vegetables in my small city plot, which -sorry all, is liberating. I've got this whole new arena now to work on in the side yard with the yew tree down after the heavy snowfall. I was thinking this evening as I pruned the roses about my commitment to this garden. It's the longest I've tended one place. Over the last 20 years I relentlessly read books, worked for landscapers and Manhattan rooftop designers, and even worked at a retail nursery. But, for all that -I've never really had a garden, not for more than a year. And that's what it takes -many years, to settle in to it, know it deeply, and grow.

This evening, pruning roses, I thought about the toughness of that act. I thought about pulling out two of the roses, maybe. I remembered the sensation of working late on busy spring days. I smelled the neighbor's barbecue -so good. I heard the children playing in the street and the chatter of Shenanigans. Pruning the roses is about attention -to avoid thorns, to untangle branches, to shape or imagine shaping, and finally, to wear the garden like an article of spring clothing.

I've pruned the 'Knockout' rose hard. Should it be knocked out of the garden?

'New Dawn' will live to see another, tangled as it is with two plants: honeysuckle and clematis.

It and the clematis were spared the diesel shovel when I pulled them from their first home and plunked them in my front yard. The clematis is showing more impressive growth this year than the last three, but has never flowered in its new home. 'New Dawn', however, is built like a tank.

New Ideas

This is the side yard now, having a bit more front yard station than it did when it was hemmed in by the Yew. I am quite excited about this space now, and while my decision still stands not to grow vegetables here this year, I see how I could do so much more with the tree gone.

Instead, I am going to re-orient the pathway from its east-west axis to north-south. That means, in the photo above, you'd be looking at the path head on. I am doing this for two reasons: one is that the climbing hydrangea commands the fence on the east side and I want to let it run, and the other is that I imagine one day these telephone poles you see on the left will be gone and we can enter at the gate that is about 30 feet to the left. In the mean time, we will go over the fence as we have before, but on the south side as opposed to the east.

Speaking of the climbing hydrangea -I am concerned that it will receive too much hot summer sun now that the Yew tree is gone. Its particularly sensitive in spring when the leaves are new and the quite warm sun comes up over the neighboring buildings. I would also love for it to flower. It was enormous and flowering in its former location on 15th St. I pruned it hard, dug it up, and thoughtlessly placed it here in order to save it from the bulldozer. It survived with little grief, but it's not flowering any longer.

In the center of our modest rectangle, I will make a 20 square foot "patio" out of some recycled stone or concrete. On it will go our pots with the herbs, and maybe a bench for sipping morning coffee or evening cocktails (being hopeful). Will the hardscape discourage the neighborhood cats from treating the side yard as a poopery? One can hope. I am also hoping the reduced shade drives the tiger mosquitoes from the area, although I still believe they are breeding in the storm drain about 6 feet away. They loved the tomato plants, residing under the leaves until I rang their dinner bell.

In the front yard I was experimenting over the years with low maintenance plants and succession planting. I was eager to see if I could have one plant succeed another without killing or severely weakening the plant that it replaced. I wanted three seasons of plants and flowering and to some degree I have succeeded, learning a lot, but never enough. My point being that over in the side yard, I won't care for such things. In fact, I'm giving the planting over to my wife, she's got ideas, and I've enough trouble keeping my succession scheme in order.

Here's to reinventing spaces.

Silkweed and the Rookery

Whitish things found in the garden clean-up.

The rook.

Milkweed seeds in the mat of leaves.

Click on the images for close-ups:

People used to use the silks of Milkweed for making threads. Of course, the plant is named for the milky sap that comes from breaks in the stem, but it could have easily been called Silkweed. These seeds came from my single Asclepias tuberosa, and after I lifted them from the ground, were easily taken by the breeze down the street.

Goings On In The Garden

The Aster Potschke is blooming full.

Someone or something smashed my Salvia elegans. When I stuck my hand in there to pull it up a cat jumped out and I got stung by a honeybee (all over the aster which had gone down with it). I had to tie up the sage and aster, wait for the sting to settle down.

All the activity startled this mantis out of protective hiding.

Phooey

My landlord recently told my wife that the plants needed to be pulled back into the yard. But first she asked if they were weeds. Apparently, some neighbor is "getting wet" when they turn the corner.

This is how it looked, maximilian sunflowers not quite in bloom. At their feet, dayflower (a weed).

This is how it looks now, yanked back by twine. Every neighbor down this stretch has a concrete yard.

Vine-o-mite!

My landlord instructed me that his wife can't stand the Boston ivy remaining on the wall. One morning this week, his worker had a ladder in the garden yanking on the vine. I went out to assist (read, check on my plants), and thought of my previous post when I saw that he yanked a shingle off the dilapidated building when he pulled the vine from below. Oops. I thought he'd just glue it back up with some construction adhesive, but no, it's still off. I know the cursing going on, if that garden wasn't there, we could just spray the herbicide to kill off that cursed vine. Seriously, its funny when your slowly rotting building's main problem is the garden that interferes with vine control. Each year his wish to reside the building adds anxiety to my gardening -knowing that said work will do in the whole thing, like this time. Each year he says this is the year.

Late Lily Blooming

Thy Plight With August Blight

As with trash pails and Boston Ivy, the New Dawn rose wants to go in new directions.

The Maximilian sunflowers blighty as ever in the front yard -but not so much at the side garden.

Something I have yet to spot has been munching Grandma's rose, and along with that -yellow mottled leaves.

This spot under the New Dawn, always poor at this time -blechhh.

The large (for my yard) aster bed has hit its end. This spot has long frustrated me and this year's cold frame placed here made it worse. And then there's my upstairs neighbor's air conditioner -condensing on this spot all summer.

The poor aster, blighted more than previous years.

Yellow leaves, spots, blackened tips, but somehow keeps on.

Fourth Fireworks

This part of the front yard garden is doing well right now. The sun is really strong here, and the sidewalk and wall surrounding the garden nearly white. The hot colors stand out, which I like, though I can't say that I planned anything about it-just seemed to work out this way.

Grandma's rose is having its second flush of bloom, delightfully scented and no blackspot despite so much moisture.

The alliums have just peaked and the insects love em.


A day lily after all, so this one licking the fence will be gone tomorrow.

I got these from a garden going under the bulldozer and know not what they are called. I like them quite a bit, but the camera is troubled by their color.

This is the mystery lily.


I vaguely remember planting it -a free bulb with my lily order? I've never seen it bloom.

On the order of more common flowers, the Coreopsis or tickseed. This is the original.

After dividing it a few times over the years, this taller, all yellow, and larger-flowered Coreopsis is now predominant. Did it grow from seed?