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.



Under Seen and Over Looked

This is the tree limb that fell in Saturday night's wind storm. It's a silver maple, Acer saccharinum, and as far as maples go, this is one I like to look at -from a distance in a wind storm. Silver maple has well-cut leaves with gray undersides, grows tall quite fast, and like most trees that grow fast, has brittle wood.

Not long after it fell that night, I broke off some branches so that I could enjoy the flowers of a large tree that are so often under seen or completely over looked.

Genevieve, over at Tree Notes, says that the flowers are important food for wildlife in the late winter, when many silver maples begin to bloom. It is certainly the earliest blooming tree around my neighborhood.

The flowers hug the branch, like the do on many trees.

Almost like sea anemone.


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.



Wild Windy Weather


image courtesy wunderground.com

I just returned from my trip to the corner take out. A tree limb, large enough to damage two cars has fallen on J&L nursery and my landlord's fence. Two cars beneath. I left the Brooklyn Botanic Garden today, not expecting the wind to pick up quite so fiercely. Sustained gusts, truly sustained, have been frequent and I would measure at over 30 miles per hour. JFK airport has seen wind gusts up to 74 miles per hour, with sustained winds, that's sustained folks, at 40 mph!

The wind is pouring in directly from the ocean, giving it quite a run to JFK. Inland, with buildings, trees and hills, the winds should be less powerful. Although, while waiting for a bus near the botanical garden (another story, believe me!) I saw an enormous galvanized tub, maybe 5 or 6 feet in diameter fly off a 4-story rooftop! Please, if you have pots or trees, or whatever on a rooftop or veranda, please ensure that they are secure. It's a bit much out there.

Stay dry (I did not) and watch for falling objects!



Crocus, Color, and Catalogues




These are the Crocus tommasinianus I posted about the other day. More have come up since then, and they look better in numbers. They are very delicate, with short leaves.

The purple is more blue than red, and certainly not as pale as those in the photo at Scheepers. But, I see now that the catalog description says "pale lilac to deep reddish-purple." As an artist, I can fully attest to the different ways people will describe the same colors. If a photo is only one variation of a set of possible colors, and those other colors are described with words (or photoshop!), then one cannot be too particular, knowing the range of possible colors those descriptions could suggest. Letting it go now.

This is the C. tomassinianus 'Lilac Beauty'. I think the photo in the catalog better describes these, although they were photographed on a cloudy day or in the shade and not color-corrected, or possibly blue tinted in image processing for effect. I can forgive this because I can easily see through it, to the flower I have, simply with a blue cast in the whites and over the orange in their photo.

I bought 25 corms, but only a few of these have come up. So that may be the bigger disappointment with these. I will be moving them, anyhow, to a new location as we begin to redesign this area due to the demise of the yew tree that was here just a month ago. That's what I am really excited about - a new opportunity brought on by a heavy snowfall. No more vegetables, that was already decided. Just herbs, flowering plants, and a small patio.




March of the Crocus



The best and worst thing about crocus is their ephemeral nature. But I don't mind their two week performance, or even their quick-wilt on those too-warm days. It's the corms! Because they are small and close to the surface, the squirrels get to them and with every plant I move in spring or fall, I take a few corms. Chopped up or left on the surface, they don't have much chance to return. So, for the many that I have planted over the years, what comes up year over year are less and less crocus.

These I planted in the side yard last November. I bought C. Tommasinianus, the anti-squirrel crocus, from Scheepers. They don't look all that much like the photo in their catalog. They also don't look much like the other C. T., 'Lilac Beauty,' that I bought from them last fall. I planted both in the side yard, and some in the front- but so far not seeing the qualities I saw in the catalog photos.

The unamed stalwarts, or what's left of them, from my first spring bulb planting, fall 2004.

These too.

And this one. Very few of these left, maybe just three.




Consolation Prize


I won't hesitate to admit that an art project in the form of a garden can seem, um, just like a garden. Where is the art in a garden? One judging these things must be open to the possibility that it is there, in the details, in the signs, in the context, in the attention, in the act, in the doing, in the being, in there, wholly.

Most of the grown food was to be donated to local pantries in the Rockaways (there are several). It was only going to be in place for one year, and unlike many of the plots -it was going to be well maintained. In general, I was interested in placing this form of interacting with nature in the context of Park (capital 'P' intended). Parks for looking, parks for strolling, parks for throwing balls around -what about parks for gardening? Seems a stretch? Maybe not so much? My proposal was 8 pages long, but I won't drag it out here. You probably get it now, or don't.

On a more personal level, I found this garden to be beautiful, if a bit forlorn. Mostly it is the light, diffused by the salt haze air, washing out the green of weeds. I wanted to do something, to return with purpose, to grow a deeper connection to the place, not simply be a spectator. I wasn't certain how my formal sensibilities would alter the feeling of the place, positive or negatively. I did want to find out.

Below is the rather administrative response to my project. I never applied for a plot in the manner requested by the park (paperwork still on my desk), having sent my proposal directly to one of the head administrators, after having a conversation with her on the phone.

The consolation.



Don't Throw The Babies Out With The...


Many friends say to me that they do not get praying mantis year to year. I have had a reliable pair every year and while I was cleaning out the garden it occurred to me the possible reason why.

While I was snipping old perennial branches and disposing of them in bags (sorry, no room for composting those), I had one of those moments of pause -am I forgetting something? I was standing in front of the dead branches of the pineapple sage, Salvia elegans.

Yes, I remember! The egg case of the praying mantis is attached to the sage! I went through my branches strewed across the sidewalk and yes, there it was. The prior year the eggs were deposited on the tomato supports and I almost completely forgot about seeing this last fall on the sage.

Last fall.

I grabbed the branch, putting it in a safe spot until I was done cleaning.

I then tied it to the rose trellis and clematis vine, knowing that I wouldn't mess with this area too much. Whew, mantis free season averted! Although, the first ones came from somewhere -my guess is that they came in a potted nursery plant or as an egg case on a plant transplanted from another garden.


Spring Cleaning

The warmish weather this weekend got me fired up for cleaning out the garden. I usually leave all the dead perennial branches over the winter, then wait for the first signs of life, usually crocus, to go out and cut them down. In that time, many of the blowing leaves get caught up at the crowns of the shrubs and perennials. Although many argue the points of cleaning up before winter or after, I choose to leave these and have had little problems for it.

Because we can have a late winter cold blast, I take my chances clearing out the leafy protection the new shoots enjoy. That said, those young shoots are pretty hardy and the chances of a prolonged deep freeze are unlikely. My plot here benefits from strong all day sun (equal to October 10th or so), a protective wall to the north and a warmed sidewalk to the south. All the more amazing that my crocus are just up now, where usually they come up somewhere in February.

The only real danger comes in cleaning out too late. I am always eager to get out there as soon as it warms enough to see green shoots popping through the leaves, but life gets in the way sometimes and I get out there later than I would like. If the bulb greens and new leaves of perennials are putting on lots of new growth, I may damage them with my rake (or my hand) as I clear the leaves. I can only avoid this by getting in to clean as soon as possible.

The hardy Aconitum -last to go in fall and first up in spring.


Surprised to see these daylilies coming on strong

I cleaned out two full size trash bags, which is hard to believe. Twigs, stems, leaves and lots of trash. All in all, it was a good 3 hours of work. I left the rose pruning to "some other time." I also got to chat with some neighbors, all of whom I haven't seen since I was last in the garden.



Spring Dreams


I had a dream last night, I was walking in Central Park, moving along with my brother, waiting for a bus (well, it was a dream). Even though it was winter and Central Park, I noticed in front of an old house many kinds of flowering plants and shrubs. Amazed, I completely forgot about the bus and zoomed in and starting taking photos for this here blog.

Imagine those photos here.

Limbfall


This way.

That way.

Do this.

Or your tree limbs will break away.

Save your tree and shrub limbs. When the heavy, wet snow falls, shake the snow off gently from the bottom of the shrub or tree and on up. Prepare to get clumps on you. A man died in Central Park during this storm; clobbered by a falling tree limb overwhelmed by wet, sticky snow. Of course, it's nearly impossible to clear tall tree limbs, so be careful out there.



Even The Mountain Goats Are Staying In



It became pretty clear last night that it was going to pile up over the morning hours. Yet, somehow I was still surprised to see so much snow upon waking up at 7:30 am.

I went window to window to check out the snow -here on the knockout rose in the front yard.

It is the silence that is most appealing. It is surprising that no one has been out and about -the sidewalk snow is untouched by feet. By 8 am, our streets are typically filled with noise: garbage trucks, delivery trucks, car alarms, horns, people walking dogs, people walking their kids to school, people off to work, engines warming up, cats yowling at each other in corners and the distant noises of all that takes place on our main drags. Today, the thick snow absorbs many of those sounds and so it seems that everyone has decided to stay in.

Oh no, the ruining machine. Welcome back noise. I think these are great tools, but I was hoping for another few minutes before their hum and thrum began. Not long after this will be the engines revving and tires screaling on icy underpinnings.

For now, though, a rare opportunity to witness our front yard sidewalk snow untouched.


Snowball Warming

I've seen none of the forecast rain today.

It was barely cold enough to support this morning's giant chunks of snow. Those are them coming down.

But it was only when the mountain goats appeared outside my window that I knew for sure it was still winter.

The daffodils don't seem to care.


The Nearness of Spring

Hard to miss over the last few days, despite the remains of past snowfalls lurking in shadowy places, is the return of spring. Its in the air and the garden calls. I have not, as anticipated, planted any vegetable seeds for this years garden. We're going herbs and flowers in the side yard.

The side yard is a mess as always and now it has a pile of yew branches. A quick clean up of this winter's city garbage, a swift shoveling of the cat scat, and we're on our way. Some wooden planters will be disposed of, one or two will be kept. The compost pile might be transferred to a large nursery tub. Herbs will stay in pots. I do hate the tainted soil.


Greenhouse Library Dream Machine or A Car.



Honestly, I do not know what it's all about, but I do enjoy reading a book while sitting in the driver's seat of a car. Not while driving, but parked in a park or at a beach or some other quiet setting. Window cracked, mixing the cool air outside with the warm air inside generated by the late winter sun shining through the greenhouse glass that is a windshield. Book propped on the wheel, seat reclined just so. It's a dream inducing, thought provoking, quality time. As the sun begins to drop closer to the tree line, cooler air predominates, the gig is up, it's time to go.

Ducks In A Row


Out on the southern coastline of Long Island last weekend while my wife set up her work at the Islip Art Museum. There was much snow around which, honestly, seemed wierd to me as it has been rather brown in winter time over my adult life. The ducks didn't seem to care much for the snow, spending most of their time waddling between the pond and the parking lot.



Mallard drake and his wife, maybe.

Canada Goose. In the last twenty years or so they stopped flying further south. Now they have a taste of the winter they wish to flee.


The ducks came a runnin' when I stepped outside. Bread, please. A car rolled in, bread flying out of fingers, the motley bunch of natives and domestics waddled rapidly to their crumbs. Long Island had a large duck industry until only rather recently. Many escaped, along with some backyard varieties, and have become, uh -naturalized. They look quite different (rather children's book) from the Mallards and others, but all appear to get along.