Play 'Misty' For Me

'Misty'

Close your eyes and picture in your mind an amaryllis. It very likely will be red, with large petals and white anthers whose ends are covered with yellow pollen. It might be 'Red Lion.' You know the one - during the Christmas season you can find it most anywhere. It's beautiful, and deservedly popular.

But there is much more to the world of Hippeastrums. They originated in Central and South America, and later were introduced to Europe by the Dutch bulb masters. Some of the Dutch growers moved to South Africa and continued their industry there. All the while, cross-breeding was taking place with many different types of bulbs - Single, Double, Miniature, Cybister, and Trumpet. Today, there are over 600 hybrids and cultivars.

'Misty' is a trumpet amaryllis, with smaller flowers that resemble the trumpet lilies. I have had this bulb for three years now, and it has bloomed each one of those years. In order for a bulb to produce a flower scape, it must grow at least four large, healthy leaves during the summer growing season.

I plant my bulbs in a separate garden for the summer and basically forget about them, except for fertilizing them about once a month. If we've not had a lot of rain, I will water them.

In September, as night temperatures cool, I dig them up, cut the leaves off and put them in the basement for a couple of months or more, until it's time to pot them up again. Once in awhile, they will bloom in the summer garden.

The Incredible Journey of the Butterflies

I am totally captivated and awestruck by the migration and breeding of Monarch butterflies. If you're unfamiliar with their amazing story, be sure to tune in (or DVR it) on Tuesday night, when PBS airs The Incredible Journey of the Butterflies.

NOVA filmmakers have gone to extraordinary lengths to track and research the two-month, 2000-mile trek the Monarchs make each year. Until just a few decades ago, little was known about this phenomenon. There is still mystery as to just how the Monarchs manage to travel from their various summer habitats to the same exact location in the highlands of Mexico.

Be sure to check your local PBS listings for the exact time this may show in your area. For me, it begins at 8:00 p.m. EDT. If you miss it, you can view it online here, beginning January 28th.




Related stories on Our Little Acre:

• The Last Monarch 10-23-08
• Little Miss Monarch 10-23-08
• Monarch Update 10-24-08
• What's the Status of Little Miss Monarch? 10-27-08
• She's Sipping! 10-29-08
• And You Thought My Monarch Stories Were Over 11-5-08
  

Edited to add: Cameron, at Defining Your Home Garden, has posted about the documentary as well in her 1-26-09 post.

An Island Girl and Her Plants

What a wonderful thought, to be on a desert island right now. No coat, no gloves, and even no shoes if I don't want to wear them. If I try hard enough, I can almost imagine the feel of the warm sun on my skin.


A fellow garden blogger, Shirl of Shirl's Garden Watch, has posed the question, "If you could take any three plants with you to a desert island, what would they be?" There are no conditions limiting your choices; any and all plants are eligible, because on this idyllic island, everything grows.

It's in contemplating this question that I realize how very limited my knowledge of plants is. I know many plants that can be grown in Zone 5, because that's what's in my personal palette. Outside of a few tropicals, the plants I "know" are but a fraction of what I can choose to take on the island. I'll choose what I know and leave those other things to my fellow islanders that are familiar with them.

Okay, down to the business of making my choices. This is really tough. So I thought to myself, "What would I miss if I didn't have them?"

Hippeastrum

Let's just assume that I can take as many varieties of these as I want, because there are too many gorgeous ones to pick one favorite. If you've ever seen a group of them in bloom (in the ground), there's nothing quite like them. I've been known to spend several minutes staring an amaryllis bloom in the face, studying the patterns and colors in their petals.

Rose 'Disneyland'

I've got several roses (teas, grandifloras, floribundas, English, miniature), but the one that gives me the greatest joy is 'Disneyland.' It's a floribunda, and with several blooms clustered on each stem, each is a rainbow of orange, peach, salmon, pink, and just about every other color in this family.

Weeping Willow tree

Trees are plants, too, and I absolutely love our Weeping Willows. They are a peaceful and graceful tree, and I love spending time in the shade of the canopy of ours on a warm day.


So Shirl, where is this island and when do we go? I want to be sure to get my ticket before they're all gone! And are kitties allowed to come, too?

Frozen Fog and Winged Visitors

Though I'm anxious for winter to come to an end, this week has been quite beautiful in a way that only winter can do. There are several inches of snow on the ground, which not only covers the dirty brown on the ground, but provides for brighter days even when the sun is hiding, due to its reflective properties.

One of the most beautiful phenomenons that occurs only in winter is frozen fog. We had two mornings of it this week, and while I wasn't anxious to go out and do some macro photography, I did snap a few images through the windows.
We have several feeders placed around the property, all within our view as we stay warm in the house. In fact, two of the most active feeders are attached to the windows of the family room. This not only provides us with entertainment, but the inside kitties spend much of their time watching and chattering at the birds when they're feeding.

So far, there have been no out of the ordinary visitors to any of the feeders, but the regulars are spectacular and seem to be losing some of their shyness when we approach the windows for a closer look.



We didn't see much of the blue jays all summer, but come winter, they have taken up residence here in great numbers. They intimidate the other birds and I've dubbed them "The Bullies." How can such a beautiful bird be so mean?


The house finches are a common sight at all of the feeders. They usually don't appear singly like the one in this picture, rather in groups of two or three. I love the red coloring they have.



While the male cardinal is brilliantly handsome, wearing intensely red feathers, I find the female just as attractive. The soft brown feathers are a perfect contrast to the red beak.



The most common feeder is the American Tree Sparrow. They are voracious eaters and the only thing that will get them away from the feeders is a Blue Jay. Though the Mourning Dove is a much larger bird than the sparrows, they eat side-by-side on a regular basis.

"Mr. Sparrow, your beak gives you away.
You've been eating seeds again, haven't you?"

Just Where DOES One Put 175 Houseplants?

Eliz Licata over at GardenRant and Gardening While Intoxicated is curious. She wants to know where I put the 175+ houseplants I have during the winter. Stuart at Blotanical asked if I have a big house. And Ewa (Ewa In the Garden) is amazed.

No, our house isn't big, but neither is it particularly small. It is just right for raising two girls and allowing them to have their own rooms. If you had come for an extended visit during those years, you might have had to sleep on the sofa bed, unless we could get the girls to share a room. Come now, and there are two spare rooms with beds.

About those plants. I went around last night and snapped a few photos to show you where the largest concentration of plants are. Besides the ones you see in these pictures, there are others that are the lone plant in their respective locations. Let's begin with what you would see when you walk in the front door.

Our living room is not a room that we use much at all. Our Christmas tree was in here, so we opened presents here, but we really don't spend any time in this room. There are three windows, facing south and west, so it's a naturally sunny room, just right for plants.

The large vining plant in the window is my Passiflora caerulea 'Clear Sky.' I've had it since May 2005 and it lives on the front porch once it's warm enough to put it outside.


Many plants get moved around the house during winter, depending on their needs. Here we have the vining Clerodendron, which will suffer inside, but quickly recover once it joins the Passiflora on the porch come spring. The Ponytail Palm (Beaucarnea recurvata) will get moved to the other window where the Passiflora is now. A few of these will remain where they are.

There are others scattered here and there in this general vicinity - Snake plant by the stairs, Pothos in the entry, orchid on the desk and Norfolk Island Pine beside the desk.

As we walk through the kitchen, you'd notice there is only one plant in either the kitchen proper (a small hanging fern in the window) or the eating area. Not a lot of light here, so not much would do well.

Into the family room and you'll see another group of plants in the south window. The hideous lime green pot is a temporary pot for a Bougainvillea that was in bloom previously. It will be planted in the ground come summer. It's still up here because it seems to be doing well and I don't want to interrupt its "wellness." Otherwise, it would be down in the basement greenhouse with the other one.

The Jade is the only plant that resides here year round. The others will be outside for the summer, including the Amaryllis on the left. Above these hangs a Hoya.


On the other side of the room, there is a plant stand with a Dieffenbachia recently given to me by a co-worker. The Kangaroo Fern (Microsorum pustulatum)hangs over a stairway to the basement, where it has hung since I bought it in 2006. Not shown is another plant - Goldfish Plant (Nematanthus gregarius) - that hangs over the other end of the half-wall, which will go outside for summer.

On top of the wall unit in this room is a Palm of some sort that the same co-worker gave me. A Brugmansia sits on the floor by a different window.

Just off the kitchen eating area is our utility room, where you'll find another large group of plants huddling around the south window. The Coleus that I brought in for winter just had a pruning a week or so ago. I hope to keep them going until spring when I'll return them to the outside gardens. They were so pretty this past summer.

There are many potted Amaryllis here, in various stages of growth. As they bloom, they will be brought into the family room to the coffee table so we can enjoy their blooms. There is also the variegated Abutilon, which will go outside come spring. There are Orchids and African Violets here, too, as well as another Jade. The hanging plant will go outside. This area looks quite different in the summer with fewer plants.

Off the kitchen proper is a formal dining room, which we never use for formal dining. It is a room kind of off by itself and it has a door, which remains closed most of the time, because this has turned into a catch-all room. My desktop computer is in one corner, and the French doors to the patio go unused during the winter, except to provide light for plants.

Nearly every one of these plants will go outside in the summer. The plant stand will be used outside for the Orchids, in a mostly shady spot that only gets a small bit of morning sun. They love it there.

Next, we go downstairs to the basement greenhouse. In the room that contains the water heater, water softener and sump pump, there are two hanging shop lights with fluorescent bulbs that can be raised or lowered as necessary. Come summer, this area will be plant-free.


Two rooms away is another "greenhouse" with two more shop lights. All the plant lights are on a timer. The Brugmansias overwinter here, as well as the water plants and other outdoor plants. They are on an old single bed frame that isn't used anymore, lined with heavy plastic. This is a storage room that I hope gets a bit cleaned out this summer. Too much stuff!


There are a few plants upstairs in the bedrooms and bathroom, but only four total. They reside there year round.

So there you have it!

An Unscientific Experiment

While contemplating how quickly the days might pass by until I can board a plane and soar to a warmer place, a thought popped into my head. I wonder if the temperature under a layer of snow is warmer than it is in the open air?

What!? The two are related!

We who live in the frozen tundra throughout the winter months give these things some thought. We have precious perennials that have to get through the winter and sometimes it's as tough on them as it is us.

I live and garden in USDA Hardiness Zone 5b, which means (among other things) that perennials have a good chance of surviving temperatures of -15°F to -10°F. That's air temperature, not wind chill. Plants, unlike humans and animals, are not affected by wind chill, although the winds themselves can be damaging to woody plants.

Just outside our family room window, on the south side of the house, we have a microclimate. I'm convinced that it's a full zone warmer there than any other location on our property. It gets the warmth of a southern exposure to the sun, as well as being mostly protected from strong winds by a row of yews that run diagonally from the corner of the house to the southeast.


This fall, I planted some marginal plants in this area, in an experiment in trying to see if they would winter over. Coreopsis 'Limerock Dream' (Coreopsis, Zones 6-9) and Mexican Feather Grass (Stipa tenuissima, Zones 7-10) are there, as well as a young Maypop (Passiflora incarnata, Zones 6-10). The Maypop was shared with me from a fellow garden blogger, Kathy at Tangled Branches.

That was an experiment in itself, yet to give results. May will tell the story. But what about this -20°F stuff we had a couple of days ago? That's well below the limit of Zone 5.

As the snow came down earlier this week, I was happy to see it. Snow is a great insulator for these plants we grow and love. Without it, only the strong survive the coldest temperatures. With most perennials, we're concerned mainly with the root structure and the crown of the plant, not with what may be left standing up in the air.

There's warmth in the ground and we want it to stay there. Mulch helps. And so does snow. Think of it like bubble wrap. The pockets of air in snow are what help prevent the warmth from escaping the ground. Snow is a good thing.

Now, back to what I wanted to know in the first place, and the reason for this blog post. Is the temperature down under the blanket of snow warmer than the air temperature? I put the thermometer down in the snow as far as I could and left it in place for about thirty minutes. The thermometer outside read -5°F.

The thermometer reads 0°F

Okay, so it's only a difference of five degrees. But hey, it IS warmer. So there.

Life Goes On

I'm going to get personal here, even more than I may have ever done in the past. Today, it doesn't matter whether you're a gardener, a bank executive, or a social worker. It doesn't matter whether I am either. For the past ten years, this weekend in January has always been an important one in my life. Because of my life. I'm still living it.

My neighbor asked me the other night how I can remember dates so well, when we discussed what happened ten years ago. I told him, "When you've been given a second chance at life, believe me, you remember it."

I've spoken before about the illness that nearly took my life. If you've ever experienced bacterial meningitis (Neisseria meningitidis) or know someone who has, you know the seriousness of it. There is a commercial on TV right now that shows children on a playground, seemingly healthy and happy. The voiceover says, "This is what bacterial meningitis looks like just 24 hours before it takes a life." It's true.

I won't go into the details of that weekend. For one thing, I spent half of it and a day, unconscious. But I remember how I felt before everything went black and I remember how long it took to recover.

Two comments people say to me on a regular basis when they learn of my miraculous healing, are "I'll bet you live your life differently now," and "God must have had a bigger plan for your life." Perhaps. I have always been one to be watchful for opportunities and take them when possible. But I do have a new appreciation for those that live with chronic pain, the one remaining effect I have that has indirectly been blamed on the meningitis.

As far as the purpose for my life - I am convinced that God didn't answer those hundreds of prayers that were said on my behalf, for my own purposes. Without me, Romie would have been left to raise two teenage daughters on his own. Jenna was 16 and Kara was 18. What a daunting task that would have been.

So on this, the tenth anniversary of the beginning of the rest of my life, I thank God for the many, many blessings that have come my way. I can't begin to list them all, but as I look back over these years, I think I am the most thankful that I was here to experience the transformation of our two girls into lovely young women.















Together with Romie, we have experienced their high school and college graduations, numerous sports accomplishments and awards, relationships that culminated in marriages, and success in their chosen fields. They are good and happy girls who love their families and their God. What more could two parents ask for?

I would be remiss if I didn't give my mom a special thanks. She spent three weeks with me, helping me begin my recovery. I have good memories of the time spent with her. We took my first walk outside in the yard on a warmish winter day to cut forsythia branches for forcing. She cleaned my house as only my clean-freak mom can do. (Just kidding, Mom! Want to do it again?) She cooked for me so I would have nutritious meals, helping me to heal faster. We read Winnie-the-Pooh together because she knew I loved it and she'd never read it herself as a child.


Thanks to fabulous doctors, good people praying, and a wonderful family's love, life does indeed go on...

__________

Related posts

Nine Years and Counting
Miracles Still Happen

Cat in the Sun

It was -15°F when I got up this morning and at three in the afternoon, it's hovering around 0°F. The wind chills are scary and this is one woman who is glad she doesn't have to go out in it today.

I wonder if the inside cats even have a clue what's going on outside that sunny window?

Oh, to Live like a Cat

He lies there, wrapped in sun-stained fur,
plump as a jelly-filled scone fresh from the oven.

---

His eyes, green like a lizard by a stream, lazily read my
thoughts. He relaxes his head.

---

Paws gently knead the pillow, his tongue, a rough pink sponge,
Kisses the blanket , dreaming of his milky mama-cat.

---

Under my stroking hand, his pleasure rumbles
like the pressure of an accelerating engine.

---

Half open, his lizard eyes glaze over like frosting on a doughnut.
I give in to the desire to kiss his head, rub his ears, and he smiles.

---

As I leave him sleeping,I head back to life.
So human.

~ Stacie Naczelnik

These Are the Days for Comfort Food

Just what is comfort food, anyway? Wikipedia defines it as "...typically inexpensive, uncomplicated, and easy to prepare. Many people turn to comfort food for familiarity, emotional security, or as a special reward. The reasons a dish becomes a comfort food are diverse but often include pleasant associations of childhood."

One of the things on my list of comfort foods is tapioca pudding. I'm not talking about the Minute Tapioca, but the large pearl kind. My great-grandma used to make it and bring it for Christmas at my mom's house and for other family gatherings. Hers was unique, because she went heavy on the yellow food coloring. I don't put any coloring in mine.

Winter can be a depressing time when you live in the Great White North. With wind chills at -35°F to -40°F, who couldn't use a little comforting? I have my microfiber fuzzy jammies, a soft blankie, and a kitty or two to snuggle up with, but that's made all the better by tapioca pudding.




I've made it twice in the last week, using this recipe:

Large Pearl Tapioca Pudding

1 cup large pearl tapioca
2 cups water
5 cups milk
½ teaspoon salt
2 eggs
¾ cup sugar
2 Tablespoons butter or margarine
1¼ teaspoons vanilla

Soak tapioca for 12 hours in water. Over medium heat, heat tapioca, milk and salt to boiling, then simmer for 15 minutes, stirring frequently. In a small bowl, beat eggs with sugar. Gradually stir in a small amount of hot tapioca mixture. Slowly pour egg mixture back into tapioca mixture, stirring rapidly to prevent lumping. Cook for about 5 minutes more until mixture thickens. (Do not boil.) Remove from heat. Add butter and vanilla.

Makes 8 servings.

This is a Swedish recipe from Bishop Hill Heritage Cookbook and was published about 30 years ago in the Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette.

Tapioca is made from the processed root of the cassava plant (Manihot esculenta). It's an odorless, colorless, tasteless starch and is used not only for pearl tapioca, but as a thickening agent.

Tapioca is gluten-free and nearly protein-free and is opaque until it's cooked, when it becomes translucent. The plant is native to South America, but is now cultivated throughout the world.

What is your comfort food?

Quality vs. Quantity

I...um...have a reputation. While it may or may not be a bad one, having over 175 plants living in the house during the winter does give some people pause. I've seen my name mentioned in connection with this overabundance of house plants here and there across the blogosphere.

I'm here to set things straight. Just because I have a large quantity of plants doesn't mean they're all worthy of the space they occupy.

Yes, I have been obsessed in the past with plants in general, and I used my obsession to get me through the insanity that is winter in the midwest. I'm not saying I'm over this plant thing, because I don't think I ever will be, but I find that I'm becoming a bit more "selective" about the plants that receive the most attention while being holed up with my kitties and me.

*gasp* Am I sabotaging my own plants? Let me think about that...

While I am one who finds it difficult to toss even a pinched-off coleus tip to the compost bin, I'm tired of coaxing petulant plants to perk up. Before the winter is over, I predict the plant count will be down by a few, and that's really okay with me.

Meanwhile, today is Garden Bloggers Bloom Day, when we are supposed to post what we have blooming in our gardens. Amazingly, last January there were English Daisies blooming outside. This year? Not a chance. If there is anything blooming outside, it's well insulated from view by several inches of snow.


Somehow, I doubt if there are any blooms under that, though. Even as good as snow is at insulating the plants, we are having the coldest temperatures in 15 years right now. As I type this at 11:00 p.m., it is -13°F, on its way to -20°F for the night. Tomorrow's high is to be -1°F. Wind chills may reach -50°F.

With so many plants in the house, you might think I had many things in bloom. Not so! There are several amaryllis that will probably be open next week, but none right now. There is a jasmine that is loaded with little pink buds that will open white one of these days. A few kalanchoes have sparse blooms, but nothing to brag about.

There is that new orchid I bought on Monday. But there is also another orchid blooming. It opened over a week ago and I was thrilled. This one is a rebloom of an orchid I bought last year. I have photos of its blooms from last March and now here it is, blooming again. It's not the first time I've had an orchid rebloom, but I count myself lucky when it happens.


I'll take one good flush of blooms from a single orchid plant over a whole roomful of other plants any day.

January Jitters

Gone are the days when I couldn't walk out of a Walmart or Lowe's without taking a side trip to the gardening department during winter. (I haven't managed to accomplish that feat during planting or growing seasons yet.) But with over 175 plants taking up residence inside the house during winter, it makes no sense to bring more of them home.

Wait. Since when did sense have anything to do with plant buying?

I really have tried to rein in my obsession. The state of the economy is reason enough. But there is that thing called the January Jitters. Anyone who lives in a climate where you're forced by things such as Alberta Clippers to store your garden tools for a few months has likely suffered through this midwinter malady.

At first, you welcome the break from the garden, after a busy spring, summer, and fall. Your garden needs the rest and so do you. But like anything that has been a daily habit, you start to go through withdrawal, until the holidays steal your attention. There are so many other things going on that gardening can temporarily be shoved to the back burner. Oh, there might be an amaryllis bulb here or a poinsettia there, but even normal people buy those.


And then January comes. The weather is in a snit, everyday work routines resume, and the next major holiday is far off in the distance. We dream of vacations to warmer climes and check the calendar again, with the hope that this will be The Year That February Forgot. We're itching to be back in the garden again.




One day, you walk to the mailbox and there's one, maybe two, seed catalogs. The next day, there are a couple more. You resist looking at them, because you can't plant seeds anyway. Or can you?




Of course! There's winter sowing. You know you won't see the fruits of your labor until spring "springs," but hey, at least you get to play in the dirt. And there's your downfall. You let yourself start thinking about the garden, you get your hands dirty, and you're off and running.

Try to resist? Some are better at it than others, but like any other addiction, it will resurface once you've had a little hair of the dog that bit you. And that, my friends, is what happened to me this past weekend. And yesterday after work.

I'd done so well! I'd only bought one amaryllis bulb at Meijer and one at Walmart. Then I thought I'd attempt a poinsettia again. (Don't ask.) That was way back in December. Christmas came and went and after three winters of winter sowing, I decided not to do it this year. Sunday, we took the afternoon to finish making Christmas and other returns, one of which needed to go back to Lowe's.

The return desk is situated directly across from their seed display. Oh...the colors! I thought I'd just take a look. Gosh darn it. One thing led to another. I saw these apricot pollenless sunflowers that looked interesting. And carmine Gomphrena.

I'd planted Gomphrena last summer, thinking I was going to get red ones, and they were pink and purple. Oh, and they had 'Summer Berries' annual Scabiosa again. I planted those a little late last spring and while they eventually started growing large enough to flower, a hard freeze ruined them before they had a chance.

Daughter Kara was along with us and while I was looking at the seeds, she went back to the houseplant area and found amaryllis bulbs marked down to $3.49. I just wanted to see what they had left and if they were decent bulbs that hadn't started flowering inside the box. Uh huh. They also had crocus kits with three bulbs and the glass forcing vases for $2.24, but I didn't buy one of those. Good for me!

I left Lowe's with three packets of seeds and one amaryllis bulb. I had to use some store credit they'd given me anyway, so I really got those almost for free, right? Just the thought of planting the seeds in the spring as well as having another pretty amaryllis flower for the winter put a smile on my face and a spring in my step. I don't think I did too badly now, did I?

The next day, I worked in Fort Wayne. My route home takes me past another Lowe's. As I was sitting at the light, waiting for it to turn green, I looked over at Lowe's and wondered if they still had any of those crocus kits. I'd never forced crocus before and thought it might be a fun thing to do. The kits were so cheap - why not?

Sure enough, they had several kits and I picked one up. I decided to just walk through the house plants and see what they had, since this was a different Lowe's than I'd been in the day before.

You know what's the best cure for the January Jitters?

Phalaenopsis Long Pride 'Amy'

I feel so much better now. The shakes have nearly disappeared.

Lone Eagle

"Celebrate your success and stand strong when adversity hits, for when the storm clouds come in, the eagles soar while the small birds take cover"
- Unknown

We pass by a well-known bald eagle's nest on the way to our daughter and son-in-law's house, and we always slow our speed to perhaps catch a glimpse of an eagle in the nest. (I wrote of it in October 2007.) We've been lucky several times to see its white head peeking out, but never out of the nest, not even in flight.

Today our luck changed and I can't tell you how exciting it was to see our national bird perched and then soar above our heads. I had my camera with me, as usual, but it doesn't have the zoom power to reach an eagle's lofty environs. That doesn't mean I didn't try, but please forgive the poor quality of the photos. I wanted to share at least a bit of the thrill with you.

There is a dirt lane that leads back to the nest area, which is on

the banks of the Auglaize River. The nest has been here for years.

As we walked back the lane, we got closer to the perched eagle
(seen at the top of a tree to the left of the nest). At the same
time, two Vs of geese flew over.

And there he sat - regal - and watching over his territory.

Then he took flight, over our heads, to tree a couple hundred feet to
our right. After a brief rest there, he returned to his original perch.
When we returned home by the same route, he was gone.

An eagle becomes fully mature at four to five years of age. When full-grown, the adult eagle is actually slightly smaller than the juvenile eagle due to the number of feathers lost in the molting process. Even in adulthood, bald eagles are among the largest birds in North America.

In terms of coloring, male and female bald eagles are virtually indistinguishable. At all stages of life, the male and female cannot be told apart except generally by size. An adult male bald eagle generally measures 3 feet from head to tail and weight between 7 and 10 pounds. The male's wingspan is about 6 1/2 feet. As with most birds of prey, female adult eagles tend to be larger than males and can weigh as much as 15 pounds, with wingspans up to 8 feet.¹

________________
¹The American Bald Eagle - Recovery From Near Extinction

Snow Can Cover a Multitude of Sins

As I learn more about gardening and garden design, I try to pay attention to how my garden will look in all seasons. While there's just no getting around the ugly brown and mush and otherwise unattractive death in the garden during winter, there are times when the winter garden is just beautiful.

And this is why I planted Red Twig Dogwoods
(Cornus sericea 'Cardinal')

We received 4-5" of new snow last night and today, and while it was still coming down, I went outside to take a look. Puffy white snow makes all the brown disappear, and it's then that you can see the beauty in the design of your garden. Snow even makes some of the ugly parts look pretty good.

The annuals and many of the perennials are gone, but some remain as snow-catchers. Taller grasses and shapely shrubs and trees are really what give the gardens and landscaping its structure, and maybe at no other time is this more apparent than when winter strips the garden down to its bare bones.

Walking through and around the property, I saw areas where I was quite pleased with how things appeared. Others didn't excite me, but when it all gets balanced out, I'm not unhappy. Then I looked at details - vignettes that the snow presented to my photographer's eye...

The Japanese Garden

Pyracantha berries

Pay no attention to the frozen cactus behind the owl

Pieris japonica, one of three different Pieris in the gardens

Harry Lauder's Walking Stick (Corylus avellana) shows off the reason
its cultivar is called 'Contorta'

Carex hachijoensis 'Evergold' and Pennisetum alopecuroides 'Hameln'

Hydrangea macrophylla 'Bailmer'
(One of the Endless Summer cultivars and my best bloomer)

Holly (Ilex x meserveae 'Blue Girl') and Yucca in the Japanese Garden

Kitty enjoys the bench beside the plant stand adorned with
Variegated English Ivy (Hedera Helix). Both have storage inside.

Autumn Fern (Dryopteris erythrosora 'Brilliance') is still green!

The Hellebores are insulated under the fresh snow, between the
Dwarf Alberta Spruce trees (Picea glauca 'Conica')

Max had to take a look around 'his' garden, too.
A cement bench protects him from the north wind.

Taprooted in Our Little Acre

I was reading one of my favorite blogs the other day - I have many - and Gail of Clay and Limestone posed the question, "What taproots you to your garden?" At first, I wondered what she meant, but as I worked my way down her post, I knew that I'd already thought about this long before she brought up the subject. She merely put a poetic spin on it.

As gardeners, we know what a taproot is. Many times as Romie is helping me dig and transplant something from one place to another (or I'm helping him), he'll say, "We need to be sure to get the taproot or it won't live." While that may or may not be true, the taproot runs deep and it's hard to remove the entire plant. It's as if the plant is sending the message that it doesn't want to go anywhere because it's doing just fine where it is, thankyouverymuch.

A few years ago, I had a recurring dream - a nightmare, really - in which we sold our house, bought a fixer-uper, then halfway through the fixing-up, I missed my old house and wanted it back. Of course, someone else owned and was living in MY house and didn't want to give it back to us. I couldn't blame them. I liked my house, too, and I really wanted it to be ours again. I started crying uncontrollably, my heart broken. A couple of times, I actually woke up sobbing.

Wonder what a dreamologist would do with that.

Eventually, I stopped having that dream. But it presented a very real question to myself. What would happen when the day actually came that I did have to move from this house? Romie and I have talked about whether we want to live here when we become unable to care for it ourselves. It's not a particularly large house, but neither is it small. And the property is an acre in size, with considerable gardens on that acre.


The gardens that are now known collectively as Our Little Acre have evolved over time, as most gardens do. They were created in bits and pieces as time, money, and energy allowed. As is the case of anything we put sweat equity into, there lives a little bit of our heart also. In fact, I can think of nothing on this property that was purely created by us (and God, of course) other than the gardens.

Are they just a collection of plants growing? They are that, but they are much more. If you come to visit the gardens, I will happily give you the in-depth tour (whether you want that one or not) where I give you the history and anecdotes about how this came to be the way it is, why I planted that there, and will even tell you about past plants no longer growing there. Every plant has a story, and it is in the telling of these stories that gives the clues as to why I am taprooted in my garden.



There are general reasons, too.


Our children grew up here. It's the only home they ever had until they left for college. I can remember the day that Romie and I were working in the garden together when Kara was two years old and I was pregnant for Jenna. A storm was fast approaching and I was hurrying to get the strawberries picked. Kara was on the perimeter and every little bit, I would throw a strawberry to her. She'd toddle over and pick it up and stick it in her mouth. As soon as she swallowed it, she'd say, "More!"

Scenes of Jenna going for rides in the wheelbarrow as Romie used it for yard work play through my mind. She grew up as his shadow, taking to yard and garden work like a fish to water. Even now, she'll get the mower out in the summer when she's here for a visit if the yard looks as if it could use a cutting.


I grew up near here, too, just three miles away. This is 'my' country and I know it well. I learned about our clay soil from my parents. Before I even considered gardening, I knew what a frustration it was to try and grow things in it, except for corn, wheat and soybeans. Our small town was home to a clay tile factory, for goodness' sake. Mom says we should be making pottery, not growing flowers.

Over the past few years, first with help and guidance from my mom, and later through research of my own, I have learned to tame that mucky stuff and turn it into something in which plants like to grow and thrive.

There are the individual plants, shrubs, and trees that we acquired in a unique way or were gifts for special occasions. How could I ever leave the Peolac? Or the pine tree that I carried home from Maine in my suitcase in 1979 that has grown to be taller than our two-story house?

What about the Buckeye tree that Mom and Dad bought for us to plant when Kara was born in 1980? My grandma turned 94 the day after Christmas - could anyone else know what the Japanese Maple she thought I "needed" and bought for me in 2006 is worth to me?







So many passalongs - the 'Dawn' Hosta from Kim, the Trollius from my friend Alison (whose plant is from her sister, who got hers from Monticello), the Flame Grass from Sue, the Iris from my next-door neighbor, and countless trees, shrubs, and perennials from Mom. Those things couldn't possibly mean as much to someone else as they do to me.


A tree once grew tall at the north edge of the vegetable garden and then one day it died. We were sad, because Kara had brought the tiny pine sapling home from school when she was in the sixth grade. I couldn't bear to have Romie cut it down entirely, so he stripped the branches and left five feet of the trunk. That tree is now a colorful directional with a birdhouse on top, where each year baby birds get their start in life.


As is sometimes the case with gardens, they become the final resting place for beloved pets, and ours is no different. There lie numerous cats and pet rabbits, Iggy the iguana, Madeline the tarantula, Sal the salamander, Pip and Ella the parakeets, and most recently, our dog Simba. It's hallowed ground.

It was here, in this garden, on this acre of land, that I became a real gardener, carrying on the tradition of my mother and grandmother. My roots are in this county, this township, the very soil beneath my feet.


Ideally, it would be a wonderful and satisfying thing if one of our girls eventually lived here, but the chances of them being able to or even wanting to do that are slim at best. So one day, we will leave it to someone who may not want these gardens that we have given so much of to over the years. My dream has shown me that it will be painful, for we will leave a part of ourselves in the walls of this home and the soil surrounding it.

But for now, we continue to live and love and grow and nurture all that surrounds us. We are blessed to have been given charge of so much and we thank God for it all.

Small Town

Well I was born in a small town
And I live in a small town
Prob'ly die in a small town
Oh, those small communities

All my friends are so small town
My parents live in the same small town
My job is so small town
Provides little opportunity

Educated in a small town
Taught the fear of Jesus in a small town
Used to daydream in that small town
Another boring romantic that's me

No I cannot forget where it is that I come from
I cannot forget the people who love me
Yeah, I can be myself here in this small town
And people let me be just what I want to be

Got nothing against a big town
Still hayseed enough to say
Look who's in the big town
But my bed is in a small town
Oh, and that's good enough for me

Well I was born in a small town
And I can breathe in a small town
Gonna die in this small town
And that's prob'ly where they'll bury me...

~ John Mellencamp

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Photo of taproot from Wikimedia Commons.

My New Favorite Garden Boots

From time to time I get to test garden products. I welcome the opportunity, because as an avid gardener, I'm always on the lookout for newer and better products. Oh, I have my old favorites, too, but sometimes Research & Development comes up with something better.

For the past several years, I've worn Ladybugs clogs in and around the garden, mainly because they're inexpensive, comfortable, and easy to slip into. Last year, I happened upon a pair of lightweight garden clogs at Target made by Sloggers. I'd heard of them, but this was the first time I'd seen them in person. I won't tell you what ridiculously low price I got them for at the end of the season, but it was cheap enough that I bought a pair a half-size too small for me, because no more were left in my size. (They aren't uncomfortable, though.)

This made me go to the Sloggers website to see what other kinds of footwear they made. I liked the clogs (called Uni Sandals) I'd purchased at Target because they were easy to step into, comfortable, and extremely easy to clean (just hose them off). I wondered if they had any other garden footwear with these characteristics.


When I saw the colorful Waterproof Rain & Garden Boots ($39.99) , all thoughts of practicality went right out the window. Red paisley and three colors of floral designs - how cool were they! I would never buy a pair of regular boots in such eye-popping designs, but garden boots can pull it off. The thing is, these are so pretty that I actually might wear them in places other than my garden, say when running errands on a rainy day.

I vacillated between the black floral pattern and the red paisley, finally deciding on the black ones. (You have no idea how difficult it is for me to make decisions like this.) In the last several weeks, I have worn these boots in various situations: while bailing water out of our sump hole when the power went out, while trudging through the snow to get the mail, and taking walk-throughs in our soggy garden.

Here's what I think of them:

• They are incredibly comfortable. Sometimes boots such as these can be a bit sloppy, if you know what I mean. Not these. They're more fitted and supportive.
  
  
• The top of the boot isn't floppy or too large. I can easily fit my pants down inside them, but if I don't choose to do that, they don't feel or look like they're one-size-fits-all.
  
  
• They're truly waterproof and believe me, I put that to the test.
  
  
• They're quite easy to pull on and off.
  
  
• The finish on the resin is glossy, and the print is a rich color, giving it a quality look.
  

Sometimes, especially in the wet spring, I like to work in my gardens in clogs, especially because of their cleanability. Mud is just a fact of life in the garden, so shoes like this are a necessity. Wouldn't it be nice if there were some shoes that wore like clogs, fit like shoes, yet just enough boot-like to keep splashes of water and mud out of them?



Sloggers Garden Trekker Ankle Boots ($29.99) fit the bill. Like the Rain & Garden Boots, I was amazed at just how comfortable these were, even without wearing socks. Not too loose and not too tight, I'm pretty sure I could work all day in them, though I've not yet tried that.

They have an elastic insert across the top of the boot and a pull-tab at the back which makes them easy to put on. And they're waterproof, too. Clean-up? Shoot 'em with the hose.

Both the Rain & Garden Waterproof Boots and the Garden Trekker Ankle Boots get two thumbs up from me. Take a look at Sloggers' website for more footwear and apparel for gardeners, including men's and children's styles.

Just another thing to note - their footwear comes in whole sizes only and they recommend ordering one size up. They have a Half-Sizer Insole ($1.99) available, but I didn't feel the need to insert it. I normally wear size 8½, so I ordered size 9 in both boots. Both fit great without the optional Half-Sizer Insole.

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I know you're dying to know which color I picked for the Garden Trekker Ankle Boots. That was an easy one. Red, of course. It's my favorite color. :-)

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The product or merchandise being reviewed in this blog post was the sole compensation for testing and reviewing the product. All opinions expressed here are mine, with no suggestions whatsoever by the manufacturer or distributor. If I like it, I'll say so. If I don't, I'll say that, too.

We're Being Watched

You know how you can just tell when someone is staring at you? There we were, just minding our own business, when we felt eyes on us. I looked up into a pair of pleading yellow ones.

"Let me in?" Sunny meowed.

We can't let Sunny in the house anymore, because he causes trouble with Baby. Now Baby can hiss with the best of 'em, but she has no claws with which to defend herself. We've seen evidence of prior run-ins on her nose, so we have to keep the kids apart.

Not to worry about Sunny, though. He likes being in the garage and we give him plenty of scritches and petting out there. In the summer, he's a regular inhabitant of our laps as we relax in the yard.

I really miss the company of the outside cats during the winter. They seem to do fine, acquiring gorgeous thick coats to keep them warm. They are all kept in either the pool house or the garage during the night and of course, food and water bowls are replenished daily.

They probably long for spring, too.

The Rain on the Plain Falls Mainly Down the Chain

Every time I have ever seen a rain chain, I make a comment about it. I first saw one online and then one in person while visiting Garvan Gardens in Hot Springs, Arkansas. In the years since then, I've encountered them in photos and in person and my affinity for them hasn't waned. They appeal to me because of their creativity and aesthetic beauty. They're much more attractive than my white metal downspout. I can't even see the rain coming down those.

According to Wikipedia, rain chains are quite popular in Japan where they had their origin hundreds of years ago. There they are called kusari doi and can be found on temples as well as homes. They are typically made of metal cups with a small opening in the bottom for water to flow through and in heavy rains the water will also spill over the sides and down the chain. Many are simple chains, often made of copper, which water flows down to the ground or to a collection vessel.

Early in December, I was Christmas shopping with our younger daughter and she blurted out how excited she was about her Christmas gift for me. She mentioned how proud she was that she had thought of it all on her own and when she talked with her sister about it, they agreed to go together and get whatever it was. She said I'd mentioned whatever it was before, and how I'd like to have one.

Hmmmm.......... Several things went through my mind, but when Christmas came and I opened my present, I never could have guessed that it would be a copper link rain chain with a bowl for collecting the water. They are usually costly enough that I wouldn't consider buying one for myself and now my girls had gifted one to me. Who says your kids don't pay attention to you?


Yesterday, the sun came out and the wind stopped blowing for a few hours, so Romie installed my new rain chain on the corner of the pool house. Appropriately, this is also the northwest corner of the Japanese Garden.

Installation was very easy, except that Jack was on the roof and immediately jumped to Romie's shoulder, as he usually does. He loves to ride there while Romie walks around the yard.


Once Jack had had enough of the high life, installation continued. Romie simply removed the elbow in the spouting and inserted the winged V-shaped hanger into the hole in the gutter. The downspout is still in place in this photo, but has since been removed.


We don't get that much rain during the winter here, but if we do and it freezes too much to the rain chain, I'll have to remove it so the weight of the ice on the chain doesn't damage the gutter. In time, the copper chain will age to a lovely green patina.

On the Eleventh Day of Christmas...

...my true love gave to me...a trip to the Conservatoreeeeee! (Sing it real fast and it works.)

What better way to spend a foggy, damp, cold afternoon than to escape to one of my favorite places, especially in winter. We try to make a few trips throughout the year to the Foellinger-Freimann Botanical Conservatory in downtown Fort Wayne, Indiana. Today was the last day of their Christmas display, "Home For the Holidays," and I really didn't want to let it end without a visit.

We'd had freezing rain in the early morning hours and while it didn't appear to coat things with ice, there was a light layer on the roads. We had to be careful, but it wasn't unsafe if you drove a little slower than normal. Besides, we needed this pleasant diversion after the power outages Christmas week and the dreaded chore of taking down the decorations.

The first thing we saw when we walked into the main room was the old Ford truck and the Poinsettia tree. The "Home For the Holidays" theme was to depict the post-World War II era.



The next thing we noticed was the wonderful fragrance. Without looking, I recognized it and knew when I looked to my right, I would see their magnificent Brugmansia in bloom.



The last time I'd been here, they had just pruned it severely. That was disappointing, because I always love to see it and smell it, but today was proof that the pruning was a good thing. I wish we could grow these outside year round so ours could get this big!

There were several kinds of Poinsettias displayed throughout the Showcase Garden Room. As is the case with any colorful plant, seeing them en masse is stunning, and when it's red, it's even more so.


I also enjoyed the variants of Poinsettia we saw there...







I especially like this golden apricot color. That's Cordyline in the background. They make good use of it throughout this room.









These shaded red ones almost looked spray-painted, but they weren't.

Mini and ruffly

Usually this room and the next (the tropical rain forest) contain many specimens of orchids, but I only saw four today, and two of those weren't in bloom. There was a Dendrobium on its last bloom, but the Phalaenopsis was very nice.

Hausermann's Charm 'Justin'

Before moving on to the next room, we stopped to admire the Clerodendron. It was here that I first saw one and was spurred to purchase one of my own.

Nearby, there was a proliferate vine that I didn't recognize and wasn't labeled. I meant to ask before we left, but I forgot. If any readers know what it is, please let me know!

In the next room - the Tropical Gardens - there is a noticeable rise in temperature and humidity. Coupled with the lush greenness that surrounded us, we could almost imagine that we were far away from the winter that was on the other side of the walls.

Here, there were the usual suspects that we always enjoy when we visit (minus the orchids).

Powder Puff Tree (Calliandra haematocephala)

South African Honeysuckle (Turraea obtusifolia)

Hibiscus rosa-sinensis 'Matensis'

This is an 8-foot tall Angel Wing Begonia that appears to be the same as my smaller one, 'Sophia'. It was just as beautiful looking up from below as it was looking at the spotted top side of the leaves.

Fiddlehead of a Lacy Tree Fern (Sphaeropteris cooperi)

Ixora (?)

And then, something new! While I've seen the Amazon Lily plants here before, I'd never seen them in bloom until today. I've had one of my own for more than two years and it has never bloomed. Now I know what to look forward to, if mine ever decides to bless me.

Eucoris grandiflora

The Desert Room is my least favorite of the three rooms at the conservatory and it makes me glad that I don't live in such a climate. I think I would tire of it quickly, although it does have some pretty unique plants.

Turpentine Bush (Ericameria laricifolia)

Agave, sprouting a bloom

Before leaving, we passed back through the Showcase Garden. We took with us a few more parting images.

Have You Ever Seen a White Peacock?

Our neighbors have peacocks. We discovered this one day a few years ago when we returned home mid-afternoon. As we pulled into the drive, I noticed something on our front porch. It was too big to be one of the cats and it didn't quite look like a dog...let me put my glasses on...a peacock? Where on earth did that come from? It's not like they're native wildlife around here.



I saw one a few years ago, one morning at work. There I was, just cleaning someone's teeth and something caught my eye out the window. I looked up, to see a peacock strutting across the street. As you can imagine, that caused a little excitement. After calling the zoo, we learned that someone not too far out of town raised them and one must have gotten loose.

Our neighbors have quite an assortment of animals. You have already heard about Dolly the Goat, a sweet thing that really likes going for walks with us. And then there are the donkeys they used to have (they died last summer). There are turkeys, geese, plenty of cats (including Mr. Ugly, who actually is a she, we just found out), a couple of dogs, and peacocks.

I had my camera with me in the car, so I immediately got it out and started snapping pictures. It wasn't too long before Simba arrived on the scene and I thought to myself, "Oh no, this cannot have a good outcome," but Simba wasn't sure what to think about the strange bird. The cats weren't all that anxious to get too close either.

When I moved in to try to get a better picture, the peacock took off and whoa!! Did you know they can fly? I mean, they are birds, but have you ever actually seen one fly? It landed on the roof and we followed it as it walked to the back side of the house. When I saw that it was going to stay there for awhile, I went inside to hopefully get some good pictures out the window.

As I went up the stairs, I heard tapping. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. I went into our bedroom, which has windows overlooking the rooftop where the peacock had walked. And there it was - pecking on our bedroom window. Why does everything always want to come into our bedroom via the window? We finally had to take the screens out because the cats kept picking at them to be let in.




Later, we found out that the peacock belonged to our neighbors across the road. We'd not seen any before, but we've seen - and heard them (whew, they can cry!) many times since.

As you can see from the photos, their peacocks are brown. We have a peacock, too. A white one! This week, my 'White Peacock' amaryllis burst into bloom.


'White Peacock' is a double, and has pristine white ruffly blooms. It has a slightly green center, but what catches your attention is how full it is compared to single Hippeastrums.

When I went to the basement last night to check if other Amaryllis bulbs were showing any signs of new growth, I discovered several: 'Papilio', 'Solomon', 'Limona', and two that I failed to label, so those will be a surprise!

'Limona' is the largest bulb I have, and it's now putting out three "babies"

I potted them up and in a few weeks, there will be plenty of blooms to help me through the last weeks of winter. I've got two more peacocks, in fact: 'Red Peacock' and 'Blossom Peacock.' The latter is one of my favorites, with its red-tinged white petals. They aren't quite ready for potting yet, although I could probably do it anyway and the heat would likely get them started. I like to spread them out though.

Write It Down

There's been considerable talk on garden blogs about keeping a garden journal. With it being the beginning of a new year, it's normal to consider such a thing. As bloggers, we already are familiar with the regular record-keeping about our activities in the garden and otherwise. Type out a few things, add some pictures, and click on "Publish." But to actually put pen to paper? That's another thing.

I used to keep diaries when I was younger. In fact, I recently found an old one that I'd kept in high school - my junior year, to be exact. I read some entries to Romie and we giggled, because I was dating him at the time. I call these "the girlie years." Listen to this entry and you'll know why:

Thursday, January 25, 1973

"Went back to school. I wore my burgundy print Betsey Johnson outfit today. I got in trouble in Chemistry. I'm reading The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. Went to the basketball game and Romie was there. He's so sweet. I love him, I love him, I do!

I was pretty faithful about keeping an account of what went on in my life that year, until August 8th. There's nothing after that. Summer just got to be too much, or too boring, I don't know which. In any case, keeping a diary/journal ceased to become important to me.

On the last day of 2008, I had lunch with my friend Marsha. She gave me a garden journal. I love the idea of a journal and there are details regarding the garden that I don't chronicle here on the blog that I would enjoy reading in later years. My problem is sticking with it.

But this year, because of this beautiful journal, I'm going to do my best to use it for those tidbits of information that I may find valuable and interesting in the years to come - weather, new plantings, what bloomed when, just to name a few.

This book is just too beautiful to remain empty.

I Got Nothin'

I've sat here on this New Year's Day, trying to think of what I want to write for my first blog post of the year, and I got nothin'. The garden is frozen and mostly brown, which doesn't inspire me much. I've made no resolutions (can't keep them) and have no great plans for the year. I tend to live life pretty spontaneously, so who knows what's in store for me? I like to keep my options open.

So that's it for me waxing philosophical.

In other news, tomorrow is my second blogiversary. If you would have told me I'd be able to write and maintain a blog focused mainly on gardening for this long two years ago, I wouldn't have believed you. But here it is and here we go, for another year!

To those of you who have come along for the ride - thank you. It's so much more fun with friends.