Gardening Question of the Day for Friday, July 25, 2008
(Via Gardening Question of the Day (from The Old Farmer's Almanac))
How long does it take to grow tomatoes and cucumbers? (answer).![]()
How long does it take to grow tomatoes and cucumbers? (answer).
From The Old Farmer's Almanac.
Which sense could you omit in your garden?
(Via Gardening Tips 'n' Ideas)
Most gardeners who read this blog, I'm assuming, have all senses working at normal levels. Sure, as we grow older our hearing wanes and our eyesight becomes fuzzy but in general most of us don't miss out completely on any one of our senses?
Most gardeners who read this blog, I'm assuming, have all senses working at normal levels. Sure, as we grow older our hearing wanes and our eyesight becomes fuzzy but in general most of us don't miss out completely on any one of our senses?
But what if we did? Hypothetically, if you were told that you were going to lose one of them and you had the choice of which one to ditch, which one could you omit - and still enjoy gardening?
Before you make up your mind let's recap what it is that you would actually lose.
Sight
I take my hat off to those gardeners who have learned to enjoy their hobby without the use of their eyes. This would have to be the sense that I would struggle to do without the most because gardening is a very visual experience. It would be similar to painting without eyesight - while you may have completed a masterpiece you will never get to enjoy the finished product and this, too me, would be debilitatingly frustrating.
Without sight you would struggle to choose seeds, enjoy your garden vistas, dig, hoe, rake or do anything without the aid of some assistance.
Hearing
Surely hearing's a peripheral sense. One that we could easily omit and still enjoy our gardening experiences. Or is it?
No birds. No running water. No rustle of leaves as the wind whistles through the upper canopy. No excited giggles from children as they explore your garden. Not to mention how dangerous it would be to use power tools in the garden without this sense. You wouldn't be able to tell if the lawn-mower was on or off or if the edger was labouring and needing some attention.
It would still be quite difficult to garden without this sense.
Smell
What gardener in their right mind would give this one up? Taking time to 'smell the roses' would be as useless as making ice cubes in Antarctica and we would be completely oblivious to the scents of spring.
Fragrant blooms and perfumed herbs would be wasted in our garden and while it possibly wouldn't affect our gardening practise it would certainly limit our enjoyment.
One benefit would be that you could stick your head in a bag of rotting manure and not be affected - but that's about the only plus.
Touch
On the surface our sense of touch may seem as incidental as the sense of smell. However, probe into a day without this sense long enough and you will soon discover that it's far more essential than one might expect. Without the sense of touch planting out seedlings would be an almost impossibility and you can forget sowing seed. Picking lettuces would be a challenge and even navigating your garden beds with a hoe would prove difficult.
Touch is one of those senses that we take for granted, moreso than the others. Yet living without it would make gardening a chore more than an enjoyable pastime. It could actually be as important as our sense of hearing.
Taste
If there were one that we had to give up then surely taste will be the fall-guy! Heck, what's taste got to do with gardening anyway?
For starters, try growing vegetables without it - you'll end up enjoying turnips as much as vine-ripened tomatoes. But then you probably wouldn't bother ripening them on the bush because it wouldn't matter. In fact, you could pick them when they were still green and delight in them just as much.
And herbs would just be space fillers!
So, which one could you easily lose and have no effect on your gardening enjoyment?
Tilt-A-Whirl: Bill Rein at APGA Part 1
(Via Heronswood Voice )
Guest Blog—William Rein
I’m suffering from “occidental horticultural whiplash”. I spent nine days working at our west coast research station, Heronswood Garden in Kingston, Washington, flew back home to Pennsylvania for a day to get my lawn mowed, reacquainted with my cat, pay bills, see my Opuntia humifusa in bloom and miss the delicious ripe fruit of my Amelanchier trees. The next day I flew back west—this time to Los Angeles—to the two-day pre-conference tour of the APGA (American Public Gardens Association) general meeting in Pasadena. Having never been to Southern California (except vicariously through countless TV shows and movies), I was anxious to experience the palms, chaparral, freeways, architecture, and people—just so I could compare to my preconceived notions.
I arrived at LAX to search for the “Flyaway” bus that per the internet should be available (for only $4) to take me to Union Station, to catch the Gold Line light railway to Pasadena. This is my attempt to avoid renting a car and driving the notorious freeways, an unjustifiable expense given our budget (and my not-so-jolly disposition behind the wheel in even “light” traffic back home). Outside I get my camera out (already) for a photo of those purple-flowering panicled mimosa-like trees and, of course, palms gracing the access road (are those Jacarandas? I keep asking myself, as I spot them many times my first day). It is warm and sunny, but not uncomfortable. The bus arrives, gets us on the freeway to downtown LA (I’ll be thankful more than a few times during this visit for those great free-moving bus-only and high-occupancy-vehicle lanes). Once at Union Station, I find my way deep down into the chaotic concourse, look for the Gold Line, buy the one-fee-fits-all ticket from a machine for a very reasonable $1.25, run up the steps and hop in the train heading toward “Sierra Madre” (which prompts me to ask if there’s a treasure at the end—either it’s the 95 degree heat or it’s humorous only to me, the out-of-towner). I sit on the shady side of the car—they are experiencing an unusually early heat wave and the Gold Line doesn’t have strong air conditioning. Is it me or is it that much hotter just this further inland than it was at the airport?
As we wend our way out of LA and northeastward toward Pasadena, right away I take note of the scrubby mountains that are jutting upward close to the city, with all those flat-topped houses teetering on the ridges. Do they build them so precariously just to tempt Mother Nature and her mudslides? Right now the hillsides look dry as dust, with some spots of dark green scrub here and there. We pass neighborhoods of tile-roofed bungalows one right next to another, definitely architecturally of the place, with masonry walls, and iron gates—nothing like back home. I am in another world, another country, not just the other coast. As I suspected, southern California is unfamiliar territory. Someone just off a plane from Spain would feel at home.
As the Gold Line enters Pasadena, the train tracks are in the middle of an eight-lane freeway. (Now, there’s a good place to advertise public transit.) I get off at my stop, cars whizzing by on either side, and lugging my backpack, camera, and other paraphernalia, am directed down into an underpass, and sweat the three blocks (longer than I imagined) toward Colorado Boulevard. Finding that street made famous by the Beach Boys was quite a relief—I am feeling the triple-digit heat. I then turn right at the corner and walk west a few more blocks where stands my motel, pretty much an oasis in my mind (I’m thinking, “This is supposed to be a dry heat?”).
That first evening I decided to set out on a long walk, to scout out the location of the conference hotel where I am to meet the next morning for the pre-conference bus trip to Santa Barbara and other points northwest. I was determined to walk what looked on the computer back home like a bit less than two miles south from my first-night motel (which is across the street from Pasadena City College) to the “Langham Huntington Hotel and Spa.” To me walking is a great way to get a feel of a new place, to see what’s growing in people’s front yards. (It’s also soft on the budget.) First thing I note is the very interesting street trees and hedges—and I have no idea what most of them are. Ubiquitous palms, of course—especially those tall sticks with a pouf of fronds way, way up on top, casting a small patch of shade somewhere across the road. Many streets are lined with small-leaved oaks (probably the native California live oak). Homeowners here use hedges (of completely unfamiliar species) much more than in the East. Except for the fragrant jasmine that appears once in a while, I am clueless. Is that a shrub of Lantana in bloom under that church sign? Its flowers look exactly like the multi-hued pink, purple, and yellow-flowering “annual” I planted in a container at home this year. Of course, in this arid clime evidence of irrigation is everywhere—old galvanized pipes pushed out of the ground, paralleling sidewalks above ground where they compete with the enlarged bases of the old oaks and pear trees – and I have to step out of the way of the mists being sprayed across pavement. (My first thought is, “what a waste of water!”) Unexpectedly thick turf results in grand lawns—I recognize thick-bladed St. Augustine grass from my one visit to Florida many years ago. Beautiful architecture, an eclectic mix of old mansions and more Arts-and-Crafts styles, mostly masonry or stucco exteriors, is indeed a staple of Pasadena—but with too many sweeping front lawns, very little (if any) side yards buffering neighbor from neighbor, and lots of roses.
I manage to forget my directions and end up getting so disoriented on the winding residential streets that I find myself on “Huntingdon Drive” in another municipality, San Marino. After stopping in a Starbuck’s and asking directions, I learn I am quite a bit southeast of the hotel. After walking forever in heat that is lingering way too long into the evening, I spot giant agave at the entrance to Huntingdon Botanical Garden, which is somewhere near the conference hotel. Finally, I find Oak Knoll Avenue and then the hotel. Although I feel discouraged by my rattled sense of direction here on my first day, I’m determined to hike as quickly as I can back up into Pasadena’s main shopping district and buy a good map. I gather I’ve walked four miles so far, reaching “old Pasadena” and its oldest independently-owned bookstore, Vroman’s. By the time I walk east along Colorado Boulevard the twenty or so blocks to return to my motel, I know I’m going to sleep well.
By 6 a.m. Saturday morning I make the two mile hike south to the Hotel without getting lost and in forty minutes I’m in the lobby grabbing a cup of coffee, grateful to recognize a few familiar faces, and meeting up with my weekend “Sideways Santa Barbara Tour” group. Our motor coach heads west out of Pasadena on Highway 101, back toward Los Angeles, passing exits for Burbank and other places made famous on TV, then north, with mountains to the east and, finally, the Pacific Ocean to the west. Time flies as I chat with fellow attendees in the seats front and behind. After an hour and a half we reach Santa Barbara, visible from the freeway. Palm and other trees in the median make a pretty scene. We exit the highway, and, after a few wrong turns in a small roundabout and up some twisty-turning Mission Canyon roads (which we experience both forward and—just to add to the excitement—downhill in reverse!), our patient bus driver—who I’m sure is as relieved as we are—we enter SANTA BARBARA BOTANIC GARDEN.
Our first view is across a long California meadow that runs uphill toward distant Lecumbre Peak (rising 3,500 feet in the Santa Ynez mountains). I walk a little up that hill, then turn around, and can barely make out the Pacific Ocean way, way down in the haze. This mountains-to-shore view is standard coastal California stuff. I read later that this is why the botanical garden was set up here, guided by a proposal drawn up by Carnegie Institution Ecologist Dr. Frederic Clements in 1926. The garden was laid out in plant communities such as chaparral, desert, and prairie, emphasizing the plants of the “Pacific slope” of North America. The SBBG soon narrowed its focus to plants native to the California Floristic Province (of which up to this point I know, maybe, two plants). The 78-acre site includes trails, one of which leads down into a mini redwood forest (that shaded valley is welcome on the day we visit) and the Mission Dam and aqueduct (another cool place with babbling waters), and beyond.
California is special in ways deeper than I knew—I read in the SBBG brochure that it “is one of Earth’s 25 biodiversity hotspots,” with 5,800 plant species native within the state’s borders, and 1,700 of those species occurring “in such small populations that they face extinction in the next 50 years.” SBBG is the hub for the Central Coast Center for Plant Conservation, so their researchers collect seeds and plants, study the biology of rare species, and provide information that aids in reintroduction of rarities into the wild and helps sustain remaining populations. Among plants I learn: Dudleya species (live-forever – “among the most rewarding succulents for use in horticulture”), Aesculus californicum (sort of the California version of our bottlebrush buckeye, Aesculus parviflora, with similar bottlebrush-like white panicles), and, having seen a number of them in Pasadena, I finally identified the star-leaved analogs of the London planetrees and native sycamores back home (they are Platanus racemosa, which, like the eastern sycamore P. occidentalis, follow the waterways in the wild and have similar bark characteristics).
After lunch, we return to the big bus and head back down to the highway to nearby Montecito. I enjoyed our afternoon stop at CASA DEL HERRERO – a relatively unknown destination in Santa Barbara with an interesting history. This is the estate of the late George Fox Steedman (pronounced “Stedman”), a St. Louis, Missouri, foundry owner and quite the metalworker, machinist and inventor—talents which, in addition to his inspiration for the eleven-acre landscape with its Spanish/Moorish elements (also used extensively on and in the house), make for a tour that will interest more than just plant lovers or old-historical-house-and-period-architecture enthusiasts. Mr. Steedman selected prominent landscape architects Ralph Stevens and Lockwood de Forest to design the gardens, but the main architect was locally-famous George Washington Smith, who traveled with Mr. Steedman to Andalusia, Spain, to study and then buy outright many of the elements (like entire ceilings from old monasteries and furniture dating back to the 13th century) used in construction and furnishing of the house. Spain was in such dire straits after WWI that it was selling its history—with wealthy American tourists the beneficiaries. Thanks to its remaining in the family, they turned it over, unchanged, to a foundation in the 1990s. Casa del Herrero is an amazingly well-preserved example of the “Spanish Colonial Revival” period with a period garden. In the Montecito section of Santa Barbara, this gem is limited to visits by reservation only.
We return to Ganna Walska’s LOTUSLAND for an extended visit for the remainder of the day, with a detailed tour followed by dinner on the terrace. Lotusland is a storied place among public gardens in the U.S. After having attended a short presentation (led by Virginia Hayes) about it at an APGA conference a few years back, I was intrigued that a not-so-famous Polish star of the Opera would have created such an extensive collection of dramatic plants in southern California; I knew I had to visit it if I ever got a chance. But apparently the 40 acres had been home to a nursery even before “Madame Ganna Walska” purchased the estate in 1941. (Turns out the nurseryman was Ralph K. Stevens—English-born father of landscape architect Ralph T. Stevens, who was the Ralph Stevens involved in the design of Casa del Herrera.)
The elder Stevens died in 1896, so Lotusland can claim that many of its largest palms are over one hundred years old, and Madame Walska already had an established collection of plants in which to build what she described as her “dream that if given the opportunity, having considerable finances at my disposal, I might fulfill my work to develop Lotusland to its maximum capacity as the most outstanding center of horticultural significance and educational use.” Born Hania Puacz in Brest-Litovsk, Poland, in 1887, Madame Walska might have been the European equivalent of the typical California star of the 20th century, for she derived her stage name “Ganna” from the Russian form of “Hania,” the surname “Walska” she took from her favorite music (the “waltz”), was married (very well) six times, and, according to background information we were given, “continued to study vocal music and spiritual teachings in search of creative fulfillment and personal enlightenment.”
In fact, sixth and final husband Theos Bernard encouraged Madame Walska to purchase this 37-acre estate as a retreat for Tibetan monks. After divorcing Bernard, she renamed the estate Lotusland in honor of the “sacred Indian lotus” growing in one of the ponds. For the remainder of her life (some 40 more years) she put her energies into creating a botanical garden, amassing numerous specimens that were the best and the biggest of species that would grow in the gentle Mediterranean climate found in Montecito. Testament to her determination as a plant collector, in the 1970s Madame Walska auctioned off some of her jewelry to finance the creation of what is today a huge cycad garden. I can attest that, some 25 years after her death, Lotusland can brag honestly about its mass plantings of palms, cycads (including the aptly named Encephalartos horridus) and aloes, as well as its large Japanese Garden, Australian garden, Bromeliad collection, Fern Garden, and ponds. A spectacular water garden is lushly planted with namesake Lotus nelumbo, from which you can glimpse the much more arid cactus collection around the house beyond. The entire package—the creator and founder, story, big and bold collections, whimsy—makes me conclude “only in California…”
After dinner that evening, we re-board the bus and head south to Ventura (right on the Pacific), where we stay in a local motel for the night before heading north again Sunday morning to tour the cool and breezy Lompoc Valley, first stopping at the famous flower fields, then La Purisima Mission, and finally, spending the evening partaking in wine tasting and dinner at Sanford Winery.
A Basic Guide to Caring For Bonsai Trees
(Via Home and Family: Gardening Articles from EzineArticles.com)
Bonsai which is an interesting technique of growing the adult trees in a miniature form was originated in Japan a long time ago. In fact when you see a banyan tree that looks like a 50 year old one with all its long branches, shoots and cylindrical roots but at the same time the height is just 4 to 5 feet then this becomes very unusual and exciting.
Bonsai which is an interesting technique of growing the adult trees in a miniature form was originated in Japan a long time ago. In fact when you see a banyan tree that looks like a 50 year old one with all its long branches, shoots and cylindrical roots but at the same time the height is just 4 to 5 feet then this becomes very unusual and exciting.
Gardens Love Organic Mulch
(Via Home and Family: Gardening Articles from EzineArticles.com)
Organic mulch offers tremendous advantages when placed around your garden flowers and vegetables. A 2" layer of mulch prevents moisture from evaporating, so less watering is needed. Mulch blocks weed growth and reduces the amount of insects and other pests.
Organic mulch offers tremendous advantages when placed around your garden flowers and vegetables. A 2" layer of mulch prevents moisture from evaporating, so less watering is needed. Mulch blocks weed growth and reduces the amount of insects and other pests.
Jim’s Notebook July 24, 2008
(Via EnjoyGardening)
Hits & Misses: Rudbeckia & early arrivals
Question of the Week: What is that gummy stuff coming out of my mayday tree?
The Business: Change
Phytophotodermatitis is not a word that rolls of the tongue. It is, however, a scientific term that describes the unpleasant reaction that occurs when human skin contacts certain plants on a sunny day. Just this past week, three volunteers from our local botanical garden in St. Albert acquired a clearer understanding of phytophotodermatitis, when their bare arms contacted the foliage of a few gas plants (Dictamnus albus). Thanks to a photosensitizing category of chemicals called psoralens contained within the gas plant’s leaves, each of the volunteers developed large and violent-looking skin blisters. It’s a bit complicated, but to start to understand psoralens, it helps to think of them as an alter ego to sunscreens—meaning, rubbing psoralen-containing leaves against your bare skin will increase the damage of the sun’s UV rays. And that’s basically what happened to the volunteers while they were tying up a few gas plants. Note to us: gas plants are great perennials—just be sure to wear long sleeved shirts and gloves if you are working with them.
Gas plants are one of the longest-lived perennials, lasting for 20 or more years.
Hits & Misses
Hit: Rudbeckia
Rudbeckia (black-eyed Susan) are one of those perennials that are always worth the wait. They require long days to initiate flowers, but when they finally do bloom, they’re real showstoppers. Rudbeckia love full sun, are very drought tolerant and rarely troubled by insects or disease—the perfect plant for a hot, dry flowerbed. Their golden flowers are incredibly long lasting and will even endure a few frosts. Tried and true.
Miss: Early Arrivals
Whoa! We weren’t quite ready for the first round of poinsettias to arrive, but they have indeed landed. It’s not that the poinsettias arriving a few days early causes any major problems; it just means a temporary scramble to finish prepping the greenhouses. Oh well, all’s well that ends well and judging by the quality of the rooted cuttings it’s going to be an excellent crop.
Question of the Week
What is that gummy stuff coming out of my mayday tree?
The trunks of maydays and other members of the Prunus family often ooze sap, a condition called gummosis. The gum doesn’t harm the tree but it is indicative of damage, typically to the trunk. Reflection of sunlight from snow or white rocks placed around the base of trees can increase the incidence of trunk damage and, subsequently, the appearance of the gummy sap. To help prevent gummosis, avoid rock “mulches” and protect trunks from sunlight during the winter.
The Business
Change
This is the first year of that we’ve consolidated the perennials and bedding plants into the tree and shrub area and I have to say that it’s been quite a success. All the end-of-season product is in one area, making it easier for customers to see what’s available and for us to create some beautiful displays. Hats off to everyone who made it happen.
Did You Know?
Once all the oils have been extracted from cotton plants, the remaining material, called “cotton cake” is fed to cattle.
“Live in each season as it passes: breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit.”
–Henry David Thoreau
Tips and Information For Growing Roses
(Via Home and Family: Gardening Articles from EzineArticles.com)
Get tips and advice on how to grow roses. Learn all the essential information for growing roses to help your roses reach their full potential. Our tips for growing roses will help your roses thrive in even the harshest conditions. Our rose tips, information, and advice discuss the soil, exposure, feeding, and pruning requirements needed for roses. These tips for growing roses are perfect for any beginner or novice gardener. Because roses can thrive in most conditions, they are a perfect project for most beginners. However, most beginners don't know where to start. That's where just a few hints and information on growing roses can come in and help. Our rose growing tips are easy to follow.
Get tips and advice on how to grow roses. Learn all the essential information for growing roses to help your roses reach their full potential. Our tips for growing roses will help your roses thrive in even the harshest conditions. Our rose tips, information, and advice discuss the soil, exposure, feeding, and pruning requirements needed for roses. These tips for growing roses are perfect for any beginner or novice gardener. Because roses can thrive in most conditions, they are a perfect project for most beginners. However, most beginners don't know where to start. That's where just a few hints and information on growing roses can come in and help. Our rose growing tips are easy to follow.
Make Mine A Double
(Via An Iowa Garden)
Maybe I'm changing my mind about double flowered daylilies; this is Gemini Jack, a Trimmer hybrid which is pinkish lavender with a purple eye. Dan and Jane Trimmer's website catalog is filled with startlingly flamboyant newer daylily hybrids, many extravagantly eyed and ruffled. A few of their older introductions are in general commerce at gentle prices; I assume being tissue cultured. Gemini Jack is one of these.
Maybe I'm changing my mind about double flowered daylilies; this is Gemini Jack, a Trimmer hybrid which is pinkish lavender with a purple eye. Dan and Jane Trimmer's website catalog is filled with startlingly flamboyant newer daylily hybrids, many extravagantly eyed and ruffled. A few of their older introductions are in general commerce at gentle prices; I assume being tissue cultured. Gemini Jack is one of these.