Muck About

Drip Watering Systems

Today while watering the oodles of potted plants waiting to go in the garden, I thought about the energy I spend doing this chore daily.  Last year, I attended a lecture where Kym Pokorny demonstrated how to set up a drip irrigation system for containers.  She made it look simple enough that my intimidation about the project decreased.  This year I want to put in drip irrigation so I can stop doing hand-watering chores.  Yet every year I say I am going to do this and it isn’t done.  How silly for me to procrastinate when putting in a watering system would be fantastic.  I’d have more time for weeding, planting, and even moments for lounging in the garden.  We are making a holding area for flats of plants to help ease the watering chore.  Even better is put it on a timer and walk away.

Since I am such a n00b, the next few weeks I am researching what I need and the best place to purchase the system. Do I want a kit, or put it together myself? What’s the best timer and many other questions I need answers to.

Close for Comfort

Sometimes when I am busy, I forget to be creative when I photograph my favorite subject, flowers.  It’s the result of being in the illustrate mode for too long.  Yes illustrating is creative too; however, sometimes you have to put in too much information Today I changed all that, went out, and played with the camera.  Here are the results.

 

 

Cold Spring Days and Berry Botanic Garden

We Northwesterners recognize that the month of April is typically chilly and damp; however, this year is noticeably colder.  In exchange for this unusually cold season, we ought to receive a long, warm summer that extends halfway into fall.  The weather owes us a pleasant summer, don’t you think?  Everyone I chat with is complaining about the cold; yet the new season is showing signs that springtime is here, in the face of our crabbiness. 

I toured Berry Botanic Garden in Portland on Sunday.  Balls of primula flowers were dancing on cool breezes, pink or white blossoms covered bare branches of early flowering trees and the rhododendrons were popping color into opening trusses.  Even with the wind and rainsqualls passing through, it was pleasant to visit again. 

The garden is a gathering of Rae Berry’s (known internationally as a serious plantswoman in the 1920s) plant collections, rhododendron forest and alpine rock gardens.  Trails take you through the rhododendron forest and native plants. The most important aspect of the garden is that it houses a seed bank of rare and endangered native plants, plus programs that help with recovery projects.

If you are in the Portland area and haven’t visited this garden, I encourage you to do so.  A five-dollar donation is well worth the cost to stroll the grounds surrounding the Berry house.

Brr, It’s Cold

Seattle broke its coldest high temperature record for yesterday when it reached 42° F.  I needed to go to work and I looked outside it was snowing.  What?  I remember it snowing in April when I was a kid, so it’s not that it doesn’t happen this late, but I am ready to get out in the garden and enjoy the warmer temperatures of spring.  Do I need to get out there and perform some ritual to appease the weather gods?  Moreover, just what would that entail?  I won’t wash the car, as we know that will bring more rain, something we rarely need extra of this time of year.  I could walk around while moving my hands upward to signify rising heat, maybe a little tap dance in between each rising of my arms. 

I thought I was through swallowing vitamin d capsules for the season. Unless things change in the next few days, March is going out like a lion.  Grr.

Easter Brings It All Back

Easter is just around the corner, and arrives early this year on March 23.  Early holiday, early daylight savings time--I think we might feel a little confused this year with all this earliness.  Easter falling on the 23rd is one day past the earliest date Easter can be, which is 22 March.  The last time it arrived on the 23rd was in 1913.  The next time it falls on this date will be in 2160.  The last time it fell on the 22nd was in 1818 and it won’t happen again until 2285.

This year the early blooming daffodils will be in their glory during the early holiday.  When I think of Easter, narcissus always spring to mind, not the  lilies, nor the bunnies, or even the resurrection The brightly hued daffodils say Easter time to me. The first Easter I remember, I was at church looking at the cheery bouquets of daffodil flowers.  And oh, that fragrance; it’s permanently etched in my memory.  When I catch a whiff of that smell, I remember being dressed in a new spring outfit, my hair curled in ringlets, topped with a colorful Easter bonnet, and my feet adorned in shiny white patent leather shoes.  We parked on the road and walked to the small, whitewashed church that perched on the side of a hill, in a little town along the Columbia gorge in Oregon.  After that, my memory wanders to Easter egg hunts, and everything painted in lovely pastel hues, except for the daffodil.  Its display was far from being a washed-down pastel; it came in sporty, brilliant yellows, whites and oranges.  The smell WAS spring. 

The daffodils I remember could have been what we call pheasant’s eye ( poeticus recurvus), which dates to 1831, with its tiny yellow cups edged in orange, further miniaturized by the surrounding, slightly reflexed, white petals.  On the other hand, it could have been a similar looking daffodil--N. ornatus--that blooms just before the pheasant’s eye daffodil and dates back to 1870.  My early Easter memory probably comes from a late spring date when these fragrant lovelies bloom, signally the end of the daffodil season. 

Back then, the King Alfred types with large, bright yellow flowers were as popular as they are today.  I didn’t know their names beyond a daffodil.  All I knew is that someone brought vases full of the bright, cheery flowers that filled the musty old church with their wonderful scent.

Daffodils are harbingers of spring,  and I am sure they bring about fond memories for many people.  Here are a few that I grow in containers on order to whisk the plants off to hidden areas, where their soon to be unsightly foliage can ripen without taking up valuable visible garden space.  I consider them my bouquets in a pot.

Click on photos to see larger versions.

Above photo is Narcissus 'Spellbinder'.

This lovely one is the large King Alfred size flower only in white, 'Mt. Hood'.

The next one is 'Ice Follies', whose yellow cups fade to white as the flower ages.

'Dutch Masters' is a King Alfred type that sports a large, bright, yellow flower.

'Thalia' is pure white with a wonderful fragrance.

This daff is supposed to be 'Trepolo'. I love the variegated cup.

 

The next one is 'Elizabeth Ann' with the lovely, small, pink cups.

 

The last one is a cyclamineus spitfire named 'Jetfire'.

 

Never Mind My Life, Mr. Grumbles

I was at one of my favorite watering holes ordering my usual 20-ounce decaf almond latte.  The barista was telling me how she was swamped the day before, and at 5 minutes after closing time someone came in and wanted to order a sandwich.  She told him, “Sorry, we are closed.”   

“Well, all the sandwich makings are still out.”

“I know, and I am trying to get them put away,” she explained.  The place was still packed with people who were slowly filtering out the door.

“Well, I am never coming back here again!” he retorted.

Good, who needs such an inconsiderate customer, was my thought.  Here’s a hardworking young woman, paying her own way through college, needing to get home after cleaning up in order to do her homework.

It reminded me of the time I was at a garden nursery during the busy season; not knowing what time it was, I was still shopping for plants.  I watched the staff turn some people away, as they had closed 20 minutes before.  One belligerent woman started yelling at the employee and pointing at those of us inside.  I collected my items and asked if there was still time to pay.  They answered, Yes there is still time."  I apologized for taking so long as I had lost track of time, paid for my plants and left. 

I know that in retail, workers sometimes have to put up with ungracious customers;  yet they still smile and patiently handle people politely.  As a customer, shouldn’t we also be courteous to them?  We aren’t always in the right. What makes us so special that we can walk into an establishment after closing and expect service, keeping people after working hours? Many times, they still need to count their tills, clean up, and have the place ready for the next business day.  They are probably tired, hungry, need to pick up their children from daycare, or deal with their lives outside of work.

It perturbs me when people act as if they are entitled, demanding another person work past  normal hours, or that a business stay open later then normal, just because they don’t have the courtesy to arrive before closing time.  I say if they want such entitlement, they should pay the employee wages to stay open later and cater to their needs after hours.  I am sure they would find the time to make it in before closing, rather than pay extra.

If I could, I would give all employees a dozen roses for working hard and often for little money, while putting up with the “grumblies” of the world.

Do you think a person is entitled to service when they walk in after closing time?

I made the funny South Park character at Planearium.de presents.

Halfway There!

Today, February 2nd, marks six more weeks until spring and halfway through winter. I love this day because the longest nights are b ehind and spring is just a step ahead. Our Northwest groundhogs see nothing but rain today and my daily horoscope tells me to create something.  I hope nothing too ambitious, since I want to relax before the big push to sow, plant, weed, prune and water.

This year is the year of the annual.  I am renovating a few garden beds, taking out perennials and shrubs, rearranging a few and planting new ones. It’s major renewal time, with annuals playing a major role filling in the bare spots. While the long-term plants settle into their new life, I’ll plant nicotiana here, sweet pea there, a sunflower, zinnia, and canary vine, where? Cosmos, Irish bells, coleus , violas, and phlox, foxgloves, calendula—my list is getting larger.  I can’t forget the scarlet runner beans to run up the fence or the alien looking ornamental cucumber plants to scramble along the ground.  It’s time to dust off the heat mats, clear some shelves in the greenhouse, and get the soil medium ready to receive my seeds. It’s going to be a fine year for annuals.

And then there are bulbs...

 

Through a Child's Eyes

Today I looked through a book about gardening with children. As I leafed through the pages, little bits of memory popped up, of my child playing in the backyard. It occurred to me how much I  miss having her around the garden. Seeing it through my child’s eyes gave it a magical touch. Simple things brought her pleasure; for example, when she went down a short little path made of concrete rounds, she made a giggly game of hopping from one round to the next.

She loved helping me plant seeds. I gave her big seeds, such as peas and nasturtiums so her little fingers could easily hold them. She plopped each seed into the small holes we poked into the soil with a stick. Then, she would water them with her child-size watering can. I miss seeing the surprise in her eyes when the baby plants poked through the soil. She helped me water, and sometimes asked how much longer until she could eat the vegetables or pick the flowers.

She didn’t care what the flowers were; if they were pretty and she could pick them, she adored them. I photographed her in the midst of acres and acres of tulip fields in the Skagit Valley of Washington. I instructed her not to pick the tulips, so she reached down on the side of the road, where we had parked, picked a dandelion and carried it around. In the photo, she is standing by rows of red tulips as she holds a bright yellow dandelion beneath her nose. For her, the weed flower was just as magical as the fields surrounding her, and probably more so, because she could touch the magic in her tiny hands.

With all the empty, open pea pods scattered around her play area, I could imagine the pod people had invaded earth and snatched many unsuspecting bodies. But it was from my daughter. She grazed in the garden, picking every pod she could see or reach and discarding the empty shells wherever she went. I planted two pea patches—one for her and another one I hoped she wouldn’t find. I wanted to eat fresh peas too!

I am going to purchase that book, even though my own child is grown. I want to remember the simple pleasures of my garden, and when I forget, I will pick up the book and look through the pages, reminding me to see with child-like eyes. I wish to experience simple pleasure in picking a handful of pea pods, opening them up so I can suck out all the little peas, and scattering the empty pods wherever I may be. Even better, I’ll hop down a pretentious path of flagstone, laughing for the complete joy each jump brings. What great practice if I am blessed with grandchildren—viewing the world through the eyes of a child. But the vision belongs to me.

This Side Up

At times I complain about how difficult it is to empty out a package full of plants. Upon arrival, a well-packed box is not easy to unload. After opening a few boxes mishandled by various shipping companies, I changed my grumbling tune to notes of appreciation .

A parcel full of plants came in from a mail order nursery and stood sideways at my door, even though bright red stickers pointed another way up. Fortunately, the nursery packed it soundly and no injury came to its contents. You never know which side actually stays up when these boxes pass through a shipping system.  When the bottom goes up or the sides come down, the little plants may wind up roots to the wind, but first-class packaging means the contents remain intact. 

Cistus Nursery in Oregon  is responsible for this well-packaged box. All the treasures within came out in fine health, with no battered leaves or spilt soil found.

 

A Few Clever Things

Oh what fun it is to stumble across something clever or unexpected in a garden. Something tiny, something shiny, an accessory to liven up the garden and give it character.

Here are a few of my favorite finds in gardens. Click on the image for a larger view.

Stumped? Make tables.

Topping a stump with a large flagstone, was my friend Annie's way to turn an unfortunate tree removal into a functional table top.

This brick walk was seen on a garden tour in Victoria B.C. It was one of my favorite finds. Unfortunately, I don't have the name of the garden it came from, so I can't credit the artist.

I came across this shed in an open field on Bainbridge Island in Washington state. This would be a wonderful fantasy for a child playhouse, or a functional, but fun tool shed.

I watched the rust take over this recycled art piece in my own garden, and it just became better.

A foot carved in pumice floats on a sea of aquatic fairy moss (Azolla).