lily

The Transplant


There is a patch between the curving drive and the yard, on the north side, where Rex's dogs used to reside. The dogs, Trixie and Elmo, passed away years ago. Last autumn, Betsy flew out of LaGuardia with a box of bulbs, roots, stolons, and rhizomes in her carry-on. She planted them here, among the old dog pens. This spring we sold the chain link pens to a woman tending goats, or was it pigs? 


As it turns out, this is a very prolific location, maybe the most fertile in the yard. The plants that grow here are a hodge podge of Lamium, Creeping Charlie, Jewelweed, Milkweed, Bellflower, Virginia Wetleaf, and smattering of Lambsquarters, clover, grasses, and other weeds. These surround the remaining dog house, one that is hard to part with because it was so lovingly crafted to resemble the human house it shared land with at Rex's old place.


This is the canopy of a single Jewelweed, Impatiens capensis.  I say canopy because it is built like a tree and is beginning to shade out the transplants.



Just look at the size of that stem, maybe three or four inches in circumference. To the right is a Maximilian sunflower, Helianthus maximiliani, carried to Brooklyn from southern New Mexico, and now to Minnesota. To the left is one of two Bleeding Hearts, Dicentra eximia, holding their own under the shade of the giant Jewelweed.



I'm happy to see what I know is an aster growing among the Milkweed, but I cannot tell if it is the weakly growing Anna Potschke or the more aggressive New York Aster. I'll take either, but would love to see Potschke do well here since it suffered so much in Brooklyn.



The Milkweed, Asclepias syriaca, grows strong here and like common Milkweeds everywhere, it appears rather randomly wherever it prefers. I suppose that's what makes it a weed to the farmer or landscaper. I hope gardeners appreciate it. I've seen some spectacular specimens in yards here -they are quite sculptural, exerting considerable presence. We are planning on a wildflower meadow over the septic drain field and will likely transplant some of these to that location.



Each lily transported from Brooklyn have made this home. They are all doing quite well, as they had in Brooklyn (people's sticky or damaging fingers aside). I may miss the bloom, or part of it, as I will be away in New York City for a presentation in late July and then in Vermont for the first part of August teaching my course Landscape Into Art.

When I am there I will pot up some rather large specimens that could not be, nor should have been, crammed into a box. Roots trimmed, watered heartily, I will leave them for the week while I am in Vermont, and then, on my return to Brooklyn, pick them up for the return trip to Minnesota. I do not look forward to this drive, haven't for years now, but the plants, their care, and the stowaway creatures that will make the van a home for the trip will make it a more interesting ride.




Lily Pad




 You might find a frog on the side of the porch. It happens.



 But would you expect to find one inside a day lily?



Hiding spot, feeding hole, great place to meet the opposite sex?



 Do you leap in a single bound or climb the stalk, waiting for the flower to open it's doors?






And do they know the doors close after dark?



Lily Pad



 You might find a frog on the side of the porch. It happens.



 But would you expect to find one inside a day lily?



Hiding spot, feeding hole, great place to meet the opposite sex?



 Do you leap in a single bound or climb the stalk, waiting for the flower to open it's doors?






And do they know the doors close after dark?



Never Trust A Weed




I've planted some pansies; I can't say I've ever done this before in my gardens. What is happening? These here in pots that were empty.



The lilies are up, no surprise as the garlic is also up -including the elephant garlic I've planted around the garden.



Never trust a weed. Never.



Smothering Potentilla indica, everyhere. A garden swan song.



Always trust Dicentra eximia, anywhere, everywhere. It died two years ago, under some heavy foot traffic, but reseeded itself. Here, at the edge of the poor man's patio, it seeded itself once again. It is one of my favorite plants, all time.





A Sunday For Gardens


As it was, last Sunday. And as I've mostly been tucked away in an office building for finals, or at the studio during my last days of tenancy, I have not been outside, but I can see -it's been gorgeous for gardening. The struggles of agriculture have allotted me a renewed appreciation for the flower garden. Vigor and tenacity are its hallmarks -mostly. I'll always grumble about the cat shit and trash (napkins!) in the garden, but I've come to see that as part of city gardening, not its better part, but part nonetheless.


The old brass lamp lady has found a new place to call us to the garden.


Angelique.


The shrub rose got out of hand, huge before its time. I cut it, no mercy. This is usually done in March.


Its thorny remains. No no need to have a rose bush shading out the perennials. In fact, under this rose is the only place weeds reliably grow in the front yard garden -nothing else gets established.


As it is the sunlight conditions are changing rapidly with the growth of the Zelkovas; three years since their arrival, they have changed everything on the sidewalk and garden where most plants were picked for full, hot sun. (Photo from a less sunny day)


I never liked the placement of several lilies I bought four years back. I've also never dug up and moved a lily while it was actively growing. Now I have. Three lilies moved to sunnier locales, away from pickers who don't climb short fences, and more visible to all. Check out those adventitious roots extending from the stem.


Since I was concerned about the lily's tolerance for transplant I made sure to dig far and wide, transplanting the soil as well as the plant. Did you know that garlic is a lily?


Angelique, the second.

Then we went to Greenwood, for lunch, dogwoods, cherries, and others.


Good Morning


The day after the storms was so nice, so cool, breezy and pleasant, we had to have our coffee out of doors. The lilies are in bloom -all of them. The landlady surprised me, as I had my head down pulling the smartweed and dayflower, with a good morning. I didn't even know to whom I replied until I looked up. Then the landlord, who breathed "there he is -the gardener." What's going on here, I thought. And then I enjoyed the lilies.









I pulled him off the fennel that I had harvested a few days earlier, at the beach farm. These swallowtail caterpillars like feathery foliage -like carrots or queen anne's lace, but also parsley and maybe cilantro. I've none of this in the garden so I put him on the cosmos -the most feathery I we have. Seems not to his taste as he whirled and whirled around the hundreds of leafy choices, never choosing any, or so it seemed.





I think of people carrying eggs in spoons. 

I've moved the sidalcea this year to be nearer the sun now that the zelkova street trees nearly shade out the entire front garden. Happy is the green wasp, nestling into the mallow like a cat to nip.

 I don't recall picking these lilies -a little garish for my taste, but their scent is great, and hidden from pickers on the backside of the poor patio, under the yew tree, smothered by phlox and aconitum greens. Walk by -all you get is the scent.


Star And Chorus



I don't recall the kind of lily this is, other than a late bloomer.

Its scent is awesome - may I use that sort of Mtn Dew skateboard language?

A month ago, yellow and orange lilies were blooming in front of the phlox. Now, these -the star du jour. Phlox -plain, but always there.


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.



The Cosmos



The last of these lilies.

Echinacea taking off where all else had died -the dead zone.

Right behind those, the cosmos (why 'cosmos'?) Cosmos bipinnatus begin to flower. Today I've pulled three of these and moved them to fill in some areas in the front yard garden. They transplant surprisingly well, given their large size and the heat. I give them a shovel-full of our home-made compost and a gallon of water. Planting in the evening is best, but today's went in this morning.

The beans are growing vigorously.

And our first brandywine flower turns to fruit. There is order in the universe.


Love A Rainy Night

ooh ooh.

The plants have been growing like mad this year, rainy nights or not. The beans, this is them two days ago. Today, they're 8 inches tall.

The tomatoes put on another few inches last night. All, but for the orange mystery tomato given to me by a neighbor -those seem to be short and stocky (lower left). Even the borage added a few more inches.

We pulled some old iron pot stands out of storage.

The painting of the house has begun this morning. Turns out, the man with the paint brush told me, that he's only painting one side of the house -the side that faces our side garden. Apparently, the only reason he is painting the building at all is because the landlady has some leftover paint from his painting of her building. So one side will be painted. He seems reluctant to mess with our plants, and I understand that.

Allium sphaerocephalon and some lilies. Alliums should've been staked long ago.

Bees love the borage.

Sidalcea malviflora (yes, the partygirl).

Morning coffee and deadheading.


Goings On In The Side Yard



The side garden is going along well. But I cannot continue without the bad news brought to me by the landlady this morning: "We're having the house painted." What? Thanks for mentioning that earlier. I can't even feel much other than irritation. The funniest part was after I had acquiesced, saying that gardening on someone else's property does have its consequences, she said "Payback's a bitch." What? Payback? I can only assume these were poorly chosen words. Our landlords have been decent to us, not raising the rent and allowing me to garden, but I can say with some confidence that if my landlady actually noticed a flower and went over to take in its scent, the flower would recoil from her face. Painting our rotting building, yeah -that might hold it up for another year.

The basil making minor strides to overcome the height of the borage.

The dead zone. All the seeds we planted here died -so I planted two coneflowers. Is it the heat from two sides of concrete or is it corner dog pee, or both? The soil here is dead, dry, no worms, no bugs, lifeless. I pulled up some poly that was about 8 inches down. Good luck echinacea.

The alyssum, literally an explosion, tolerates our mild foot traffic.

Gaura blooming well.

Dame's rocket, consistently deadheaded keeps providing flowers, motivation for more deadheading.

Lily yesterday.

Lily today.



Picket Fences



It's that kind of year, where I tell everyone who stops how early things are blooming this year. Whether it's really early or not, I do not know -just seems early to me. The Allium sphaerocephalon I remember as July, but then last year it was cool and wet.

Same goes for the Russian sage, Perovskia atriplicifolia. Surely this is blooming early in my garden? Isn't this July/August? Too floppy either way, the New Dawn over hanging it.

Ahh, the picket fence I made out of 7 pieces of scrap wood. Cut those pickets myself don't you know. This is to keep flying garbage pails out of the garden, after a lost lily and broken asters convinced me it was necessary.

Speaking of lilies, the oranges are blooming in every location now, although these are a little larger and less recurved than those on the other side of the front garden.