hydrangea

Garden Report

Potatoes are waning but they're still impinging on the herb bed. As the sun lowers and the potatoes die down, the herbs should reclaim their full sun. In the back left, really tall milkweed.



As the garlic comes out over the last few weeks, the fall brassicas have been filling in. These are brussel sprouts, the first planted, into the space previously occupied by garlic 'Xian.' I've never grown these before, but have planned it for years. Notable this season is a lack of cabbage moths -not complaining!


Eggplant fruit coming on now.


Green beans, from purple to roma, prolific and easy as ever.


All peppers are fruiting, some large. Only difficulty is that the plants can hardly hold their large fruit and that I shouldn't be so lazy as to try to break a pepper off the plant instead of going for the pruner. What happens? Well, I break the whole pepper plant in half.



In complete opposite of last year, all our tomatoes are suffering blight. Could have come in on our purchased compost, or maybe because we planted in last years potato and eggplant beds. Hard to avoid poor rotation in a compact garden. Next year I think these beds will be garlic and the garlic beds will be tomatoes. All that can be done now is watch the tomatoes try to outgrow the blight.


More brassica as the Porcelain garlic 'Music' has come out. As two more varieties of garlic are harvested over the weekend, even more brassica will go in. Above is kale started from seed in the greenhouse.


These giant pompoms, hydrangea actually, were moved from the south side of the house last year. We planted them in a great arc around the curving lawn-driveway. They are quite garish, but they keep the plow truck and other skiddish drivers from driving over the lawn and garden in summer and winter (thanks to the long lasting dried flower sepals), and maybe they keep the deer at bay. Maybe.


And we've finally started digging into the soil for new potatoes. Above: Kennebec russet, Pontiac, and Yukon Gold. Thanks to the quantity of compost and straw they came out with little soil and easy to clean.

I've been very busy with many things, from door and sill replacement, old deck removal, job searching and applications, studio building projects, contractors and everything I can't stand about some of them, photographing, studio painting, my class Landscape into Art which runs on the twenty third of July, a bit of socializing, gallery going, and even a music festival in a corn field last weekend. Blogging has had to take a back seat to all this (as well as taking quality photos for them), but rest assured -I was able to plant half of my milkweed over the septic drain field and beyond yesterday. Progress.







Trans Plant



Finally I have found a new home for my climbing hydrangea (I have two). This vine, a favorite, was pulled out of a garden I planted in 2003. When I found out that the lot was being razed for a building I pulled out everything I could fit into our little side yard (which got me into gardening there). What was missed: two 5 foot tall quinces, a twenty foot tall white birch, a 16 foot tall ornamental spruce, and peonies, and perennials, and a whole lot else. Many of our plants, including the 'New Dawn' rose, monkshood, clematis, and more are from that razed lot.

This was its old spot in the side yard. I raked, cleaned out the garbage and will now leave it to the Norway maple seedlings that love this spot under the yew tree. The hydrangea moved to an oak/laurel forested yard in Stony Brook, LI. It's a perfect fit, and I hope it survives its second major transplant in 8 years. Also, I hope it flowers in its new home because, although it flowered profusely in its first home, these two transplants have never flowered for me. Everyone suspects the soil, although everything else flowers just fine.

Do save plants from the bulldozer, if for nothing else than the satisfaction of getting an enormous, well-established specimen for only your labor. This vine/shrub, Hydrangea anomala subsp. petiolaris, would probably sell for over one hundred dollars retail at this size.



Obligatory Snow Storm


I missed the big one in December, so this is my first big snowfall. After shoveling out the car and sidewalk, shaking snow off sagging roses and yews, I took a couple of shots.

 Landlord's truck shows how much snow, maybe.

 The side garden shows it, no?

 How about the bird house? They hate shoveling.

It is only in the snow that you can truly appreciate the red branches of climbing hydrangea.


Snowtacular, the Early Hours


School was closed, as anticipated. My plan was to go to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden during the morning, before the wind and snow picked up. I stepped outside, about two inches had fallen, and an icy mix was falling. It wasn't cold or too blustery. Wind was from the east north east. The bus was on time.

New Dawn, snow, and my lovely building-side.

Climbing hydrangea

But when I got to the BBG, the gate was locked. Before leaving I looked on their twitter/facebook/website for information about opening and I even called their main number, but no info about being open or closed. So I chanced it. Their was a guard in the booth. I hollared "will you be open" to which she replied, "maybe later." I wondered to myself if this was five minutes later or tomorrow later. And moved on.

November Blooming




The Monkshood (Aconitum) is blooming now, but never quite lives up to its potential. Its top-heavy and flounders low to the ground and I am too lazy to support it!


Grandma's tea is blooming once again, probably the last time this year.




Angeliqueomania, Anomolas, and Mystery Ferns



I can't stop looking at these tulips. And that leads to photographing them, doesn't it. And that leads to showing them on the blog.




Another of my favorite plants is the Climbing Hydrangea, Hydrangea anomola. Its really all year something else. I pulled two out of a garden that I knew was going under the bulldozer (cause I planted it myself!). I put it on the fence of the side yard. Only down side is that people snap the branches a lot.


But what graceful form, gestural.


Another plant, a fern I pulled out of that very same garden is coming back this year. I had my doubts because it is planted in the front yard, in sun all day except for the last few hours and is tucked between heat holding wall and sidewalk. But there it is, making its way back.

SEARCH QUESTION OF THE WEEK


Can you divide a hydrangea plant?


I suppose you could, but I do not recommend it without great care. Hydrangeas are woody shrubs. In general, I do not consider woody shrubs as candidates for root division. I would, however, multiply my woody shrubs by "rooting" cuttings of branches or through layering -the laying of a branch onto the ground and covering it with soil and a rock to encourage rooting of the stem. Once the branch has rooted, in either method, you can transplant anywhere.

Green-wood Cemetery



street sign               cicada moult

This Sunday I spent the earlier half of daylight hours, in a post Holloween party night daze, walking through Green-wood Cemetery. As I strolled through the early-mid 19th century grounds for picnicking with the dead, I thought how peaceful it is in this park. It really is my favorite park and really is peaceful. But watch out, cars sometimes wrap corners pretty fast and silently as drivers aren't expecting walkers. Green-wood, noted so much for its famous dead and buried, brownstone Gothic arch, and parrots, has a nice selection of tree and shrub specimens. This photo is of a hydrangea I noticed while walking along. I have my favorite hydrangeas, and this isn't one of them, but it is amazing how pleasing this shrub can be in summer and then turn to match autumnal color. Pretty spectacular.

Hydrangea Flowers

As I neared the archway, I gazed upon hundreds of people about to take a tour of some kind and I became glad I was leaving as they were coming. That's just the thing about telling people about your favorite places -you don't want everyone to go. Whats that old saying, "Nobody goes there anymore, its too crowded." I'd say the stigma of death and the soccer obstacles we call headstones will keep it mostly quiet.