Each Little World

Spring officially arrives

Yesterday afternoon about 3:30 p.m. I glanced out the living room window and was taken aback to see our resident ducks — Fred and Ethel — had arrived. As you can see in these photos, there is so little open water in our pond that I had no expectations of seeing them for another few days — if at all. They've been coming each spring as soon as the snow melts off the pond, typically arriving in mid-March. This is the latest date that they've landed since they started coming in 1998.

The life expectancy of Mallard ducks is 20 years so they must definitely getting up there in years, given we've been seeing them each spring for 16 years. And we have no idea of their age when we first saw them. They always look the same; Mark and I are the ones who are visibily aging.  

But it is a joy to see them as we've come to count on their annual visit. They animate the garden in a way that few other creatures do. Seeing them is the surest sign that Spring is really here despite the snow that's still on the ground.

 

Summer of 2012: Drought tolerant plants

No matter where you go this summer or who you talk to, in this part of the U.S. there is only one topic of conversation: the weather. For gardeners, the tale is one of endlessly dragging hoses around the garden trying to keep plants alive while we wait for rain. We've finally been lucky and have recorded 4.27" of rain since July 18th. The garden has definitely perked up, except for those plants that had already succumbed to our record heat and drought. What future summers will be like for gardeners in southern Wisconsin is anyone's guess. 

Paging through my garden journal from last summer, I noted temps in the 90s in early June and more in July. Officially, the total local June and July rainfall was 5.42" but we had about 3/4 of an inch less than that at our house. So clearly drier than "normal" — and most of it came in tiny dribs and drabs. This year at the same time we are about an inch lower in our garden than 2011, with virtually all of the rain coming in the last two weeks after six dry weeks. 

Right now I'm looking at my garden to see which plants are doing well and which aren't — relative to the extreme conditions this summer. Then I think I will have to seriously consider getting rid of or at least reducing the number of plants that didn't like these drier conditions. So what did do well for me?

In my full sun and very dry traffic island, Nepeta barely slowed down. All the lily bulbs came up and bloomed and a Pelargonium with splotched leaves that I overwintered did well. And this is one location that I never watered until things were pretty desperate. 

Elsewhere in the main gardens, Hostas and assorted Geranium macrorrhizum are all doing fine. My oldest swaths of Epimediums did well but those that were only planted last year suffered. Tiarellas struggled but Heucheras were mostly OK. All the summer bulbs did well.

Most of my Japanese painted ferns faded and flopped and were quite unhappy even though I tried to water them. But they put out new growth the minute they got rain. Interrupted and Christmas ferns did much better along with most of my assorted Dryopteris ferns. Sedges and even the Japanese forest grasses seem fine. I am confident that the things I've mentioned will come back next year — if we pick up more rain and have a typical snow cover this winter. I recognize, however, that is a pretty big "if."

How about you? What plants fared well in your drought-challenged garden? Leave me a comment and perhaps we can pool our information to help us all prepare for a changing climate.

. . .

Two plants that were noteworthy for their stellar performance this summer were Queen Anne's Lace and chicory (in the photo above). All the median strips of grass turned brown while these plants bloomed profusely along the curb. Half the front lawns and gardens in town are sporting these two plants while they've covered whole fields in the countryside. A gorgeous combo but, alas, not one I really want in my garden. 

Here are some tips from Olbrich Botanical Gardens on how to combat drought in home gardens. I am already doing most of what's on their list but perhaps you'll find some helpful hints. 

Snowdrop stats

The first appearance of snowdrops in the garden is typically one of the harbingers of Spring. In the past we've always used the arrival of our mallard ducks, Fred and Ethel, to note the changing season. They show up as soon as the pond ice melts — which should be this week — but we've had snowdrops since February 17th.

So it occurs to me that I should be recording the first snowdrop sighting as one of my phenological records, the same way I take note of the ducks. And since digital photos all have the date embedded, I realized I could instantly assemble a snowdrop history merely by looking at all my snowdrop images taken in the years since we bought our first digitial camera. 

And yes, this year the snowdrops popped up earlier than any year since we started snapping their pictures in 2005. You can see from the list below that there is a fluctuation of almost 7 weeks in the first appearance of the snowdrops; though interestingly the arrival dates for the ducks just barely span a month: March 6 (2000, 2004) to April 2 (2011). 

Snowdrop stats:

• 2005: March 30
• 2006: no photos, so no recorded date
• 2007: March 21
• 2008: April 6 (after the winter where we had more than 100 inches of snow)
• 2009: March 14
• 2010: March 10
• 2011: March 14
• 2012: February 17

Botanical Latin — or English

As most gardeners know, Linnaeus (above) standardized the system of naming, ranking and classifying organisms back in the 18th century. At the time, Latin was the language of science and that's why all of us call our plants by long Latin names. But, as of the first of this year, scientists are no longer restricted to Botanical Latin when classifying plants, algae and fungi, according to a story in the online version of Science News, the Magazine of the Society for Science & the Public.

The article notes that "the latest revision of the international code governing these names allows two new options: skipping paper publishing and describing key features in English instead of Latin. You can read all about why the change is being made now and what it means here. 

Bennington: Summer memories with recipe

Forty years ago this summer, my friend Monte and I packed up a home-made tent/trailer and drove 7,000 miles (or was it 10,000?) on a massive cross-country trip. We were roommates as well as art teachers, so we left when school recessed for the summer and returned Labor Day weekend. It was a great trip, resulting in lots of adventures which I remember via the first journal I ever kept.

All of this came back to me during my recent visit to Atomic Interiors where I purchased the Dansk BLT plates. Among the wonderful mid-century treasures the store offers was a set of four Bennington Pottery plates and bowls. Potter's Yard in Bennington was one of our stops in July, 1971, and we fell in love with their delightful dishes. I fell prey to temptation and memory at Atomic again and bought the eight pieces of Morning Glory Blue spatterware. Again, at $9 for the dinner plates and $7 for the bowls, Atomic's prices can't be beat. The current prices on-line at Bennington are $24 for the plate and $26 for the rimmed soup/pasta bowl. The pieces I bought at Atomic were made in 1961/62 when I was a freshman in high school; the company's been making stoneware dishes since 1948.

Along with notes and bits and pieces glued into that first journal was the this recipe for salad dressing (below) that we enjoyed at Potter's Yard. 

BENNINGTON DRESSING

• 1 tsp. Kosher salt
• 1 tsp. freshly cracker white pepper
  
• 1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepepr
• 1/4 tsp. granulated sugar
• 1/2 tsp. dry mustard
• 1 tsp. Dijon mustard
• 1 tsp. lemon juice
  
• 2 tsp. finely chopped fresh garlic cloves
• 5 Tblspn. good tarragon vinegar
• 2 Tblspn. olive oil
• 10 Tblspn. vegetable oil
• 1 raw egg
• 1/2 cup light cream

Put all the ingredients in a jar and shake well to combine. Chill before serving. 

Alas, I did not make any notes as to what kind of salad this might have dressed. 

Still waiting for warm weather

Spring in Wisconsin just does not want to stay. We've been teased by a warm day here and there but they quickly disappear. We're left with below normal temperatures and all kinds of weather patterns except warm sunny days. On Tuesday of this week — April 19 — we woke to light snow (first image below) and ended the day with a trio of new weather records, according to Bill Novak of The Capital Times newspaper:

• The National Weather Service noted 1.13 inches of precipitation (rain plus snow converted to liquid) fell, breaking the old record of 0.93 inches set in 1993.

• The precipitation included 1.3 inches of icy snow (below), which broke the 1953 record of 0.03 inches of snow for this date.

• We also set a record for the coldest high temperature (got that?) for April 19 of 36 degrees Fahrenheit, breaking the prior record of 38 degrees F. set in 1928.

I mention all of this to explain why there haven't been many posts this week. I am indoors waiting for it to be warm enough to plant my first shipment of plants which arrived around April 14. They are living in the front hall where it is cool but cluttered with garden clogs and a bench for sitting down when we change muddy garden gear for indoor clothes and shoes.

These three Hepatics and an Arum are all growing rapidly despite their tiny pots. They need to be moved outdoors into their new homes. This morning the temp when we went for coffee was about 40 degrees F. so I am hoping that tomorrow the ground will be dry enough to dig and the temps warm enough to keep my tiny transplants from suffering shock.

I am not the only one waiting for Spring. According to the Wisconsin Ag Statistical Service only 6 percent of the state's spring tillage work had been completed by Tuesday, compared with more then 36 percent of the field work completed by this same time last year when we were all enjoying an early Spring.

Picking paint colors

My husband, with a Masters degree in painting and years of color theory (Goethe, Munsell, Itten, Albers), is a specialist when it comes to talking about and picking paint colors, whether for a canvas or the library walls. I'm more of a generalist and usually think of color in terms of food: aubergine, squash, butter yellow. Except when I fall back on my graphic design background and talk about CMYK or grab the PMS swatch book.

In practical terms this means we speak different languages. Every color choice over the last 22 years, from the paper and ink for our wedding invitations to the exterior paints for our houses to carpet, is a struggle; a struggle that begins with words. I say "eggplant;" he says "purple-brown." I gag. Over time we've learned that we are very close in the colors we're picturing but our descriptive language gets us in trouble. 

To make life — and picking paint — easier on the two of us, we now forgo conversation and head directly to the Benjamin Moore swatch book (you can actually buy one at the paint store). We point to the colors we're thinking of and then use them as the basis for discussion. This time, however, we used Stephanie Hoppen's book, "Perfect Neutrals," as the starting point to come up with colors and combinations that appealed to both of us — and would work with our furniture, carpet, and art/objects/textiles. 

We wanted three colors that would be similar in value and would work in harmony for the library walls (A), the entrance stairwell that leads up to the library (B), and the entrance foyer itself (C). But when we picked up a sample of the entrance hall floor tile, our paint choices fell apart and we had to quickly re-think them. We had been holding the tile color in our heads and we were way off. We pretty quickly re-thought the colors — at the Benjamin Moore paint store — and came home with three pint containers of color candidates.

Mark wisely saved a number of the boards from the old bookshelves we are replacing to use as color test boards. They worked well because we could move them around and they were long enough that you could see how the color looked with one end in shadow and the other end in light. 

 

Our original choices are on the three central boards: Millington Gold HC13 (A), Norhthampton Putty HC89 (B), and Delray Gray 1614 (C). But I was not crazy about our combo once it was on the boards. I could see that even with new lighting, the stairs and front hall were going to be too dark, and too chopped up with two different colors. So I went in the basement and grabbed paint we'd used elsewhere in the house and made more test boards. 

The board on the far right is Stormy Monday, which we used in one of our bathrooms, and I thought might work better than the Delray Gray for the front hall. But one gray was too blue and the other too lavender, so we ditched those colors altogether. Instead we decided to paint the stairwell and the foyer the same color, Coastal Fog (B, C). That's the board at the far left and is a color we used on one wall in the dining room that displays artwork. We'll keep our first choice, Millington Gold, for the library walls (A). 

The side walls in the library will be Millington Gold. These bookshelves are only a memory. The wall across the back of the room we consider part of the stairwell and it will be painted Coastal Fog.

We are still going to have a third color, a warm gray called Woodcut, that we will use on the wall in the stairwell that faces you as you walk down. It's where we're building a display shelf out of cherrywood and plan to use the area to showcase art. 

Over the years of painting the inside and outside of two houses, we've finally learned how to talk — or not talk — about color. But just as important, we know to never pick any color without making sample boards to be sure it looks in reality like it did in the magazine or paint chip. And lastly, keep good records of all the paint you've used. It only took me a minute to come up with the brands, names and i.d. numbers of the paints we've used for ceilings and trim in the rest of the house, so we can use the same in these areas. Next year it will be time to paint the outside of the house and we can easily replicate the colors because of our folder of paint chips and notes. 

The side walls of this stairwell and the entrance foyer below will all be painted Coastal Fog. The wall with the indigo textile will be Woodcut, a warm gray (not shown on the sample boards).

Flower Factory

The recent warm weather has the gardening season off to such an early start that I was compelled to visit my favorite local nursery on Saturday. I couldn't help myself; I actually went to the Flower Factory on opening day at the opening hour. It's the kind of thing I rarely do, preferring to avoid crowds and chaos and traffic. But I've had the FF catalog marked up with my wish list for so many weeks that I couldn't wait any longer.

One of my favorite display gardens at The Flower Factory is this old farm building with a "green roof." This photo was taken at high summer; on Saturday the roof was just beginning to wake up and the surrounding plants had barely broken ground.   

It was a lovely morning for a country drive: volunteers in chartreuse vests were picking up litter along the highway and I could see folks in the bleachers watching a soccer game. When I turned off the highway, I drove between farm fields turned over to reveal the dark rich soil that southern Wisconsin is known for. As I pulled into the Flower Factory only a few minutes after 9 a.m., I could see there were already lots of cars and shoppers. I was in such a fever to get going that I barely glanced at their always inspiring display gardens, containers and ponds. 

 

I grabbed one of Flower Factory's traditional red wagons and a copy of their locator list and began a systematic perusal of the hoop houses. I had my list in hand to aid in looking for the absolute must-haves first. Even thought FF has a large and knowledgeable staff — all wearing funky hats to identify them — I used their printed list to find most of the plants I was looking for. FF has 3800+ selections for 2010, so having a printed list where I could look up a plant by name and be told the number of the exact hoop house where it was located, made my job (and theirs) much easier.  

 

I was about to ask for help locating a fern when I ran into Nancy Nedveck, one-half of the couple who owns Flower Factory. As it happens, Nancy was holding a flat of that very fern when I stopped to chat. You can see from these pictures that I filled two small wagons (they also have a larger size available) with mostly foliage plants. The one floral exception was primroses. In the FF catalog, David Nedveck noted that after seeing and hearing Pam Eveleigh talk about primroses at the Wisconsin Hardy Plant Society, they were inspired to increase their primrose selection by 15 new species. I fell prey to a few of these new additions.

 

Just as I joined the line to pay for treasures, a FF staffer opened another register a few feet away in the Hosta Hut, making me suddenly first in this new line. Before I finished my transaction, an eager line had already formed behind my red wagons. But everything was moving quickly and smoothly given that it was opening day.

 

As I was walking to my car, I ran into a friend from the Hardy Plant Society who pointed out that one of my new plants has been invasive in her garden. Still I know that how plants behave can vary widely (and wildly) from garden to garden. Once I got my loot home, I made plant ID cards for each new purchase. On a 3"x5" index card, I wrote down where I got the plant (namely Flower Factory), the date and price, a description of the plant and any important cultural information the catalog provided. I will note the location where I plant it on the back of the card when I actually get them in the ground.

The FF catalog uses a letter code to give you all sorts of extra info about each plant in the very limited space in their jam-packed catalog. By checking those codes, I discovered that the wonderful Hepatica acutiloba 'Silver Leaf' that I bought last year — and was buying three more — is tolerant of Juglans toxin from Black Walnut trees. Now I may need to get even more plants since neighbors have Black Walnuts on two sides of our property right over the lot line and I'm always looking for things that can survive in those parts of the garden.

The Flower Factory is ten minutes outside of Madison but worth a much longer drive. They also sell plants every Saturday at the Dane Country Farmers Market on the Capitol Square in downtown Madison, for a different shopping experience. FF has an amazing selection of plants all season long and if you wait a bit longer, you can enjoy seeing many of the plants they sell shown to advantage in their display gardens.  

Garden journals: The book or the blog

For those of you who started blogging as a means of recording time and change in your garden, my stack of handwritten garden journals may seem laughable. Even I look at them in wonder some days: I wonder how I managed to be so disciplined as to create twelve volumes; but mostly I wonder how to get back to keeping up those hand-written diaries. 

The entires are very different from blog posts because they are not written for an audience. As a long-time writer, however, I'm always conscious of grammar, clarity and legibility whatever and wherever I'm writing. I'm also conscious that I don't have to back-up paper journal entries or worry about incompatible formats. 

I don't carry a laptop or iphone with me but I always have a pencil and a Lamy fountain pen (with a box of ink cartridges) and a notebook in my so-called purse. When I can't figure out how to begin a column or a blog post or almost any written document, I begin by sitting down with a pen and a piece of paper. There is something almost primal that happens when you pick up that most basic of tools. That's why I draw rather than paint — and why I draw in black and white rather than color. 

This series of garden journals began in 1997 with Mark and I interviewing potential landscape architects to find one who could help us implement the design that we'd created for our garden. The books include musings about the process, lists of plants, highpoints of tours and lectures. Eventually I began to use them like a diary, not worrying if I strayed from gardening. The subjects can get quite rambling — and thus don't necessarily translate into blog posts. 

Volume XII is the "current" journal. It resides in a basket on the garden bookshelves, where I toss anything I want to remember or paste into the journal. I write weather or bloom data or anything else noteworthy on my calendar which I can then use to flesh out the journal entries.

It was a perfect system until I got distracted. First, I started making entries that were like little art projects after I took a class and decided the books should be equally about words and images. I spent hours drawing and collaging. 

And then I started blogging. It wasn't long before it seemed redundant to keep both electronic and hand-written logs. Until yesterday, the last entry I made in Volume XII was in mid-May 2009, as Mark and I were getting ready to go to Chicago to have a real-life, real time meet-up with garden bloggers from around the country. 

I figured if I really wanted a paper journal I could print out my blog posts or even turn them into a book as Jenny at Rock Rose has done. But as more time has passed without me updating my print journal, it's reinforced my sense of the the ephemeral nature of blog posts — something I never felt with my newspaper columns. 

My column typically ran in full-color on the cover of a Saturday section front and was available on-line as well. I saved a newsprint copy of each one, knowing a copy also remained safely in the print — and later electronic — newspaper library. But given the unexpectedly fragile future of newspapers, the fate of those hundreds of newspaper libraries around the country is equally uncertain. A fact that was made eminently clear when the local papers dramatically cut back on public access to their electronic library last September. 

Based on what I've witnessed over the last few years, what it ultimately comes down to is this: the written word lasts longest when it is written by hand and preserved on paper. So I spent the better part of a week — with my 2009 calendar, my basket of bits and pieces, a stick of archival glue and my pen — catching up. My paper garden journal, like my on-line garden journal, is now on real time. 

Thanksgiving leftovers

Thanksgiving is not officially over at our house until I've detailed the holiday menu and table setting in my entertaining journal. Since our Thanksgiving dinner tends to have a widely varying cast size with appropriate menu changes, I like to note down what I did and how well it all worked out. This year I wanted to make some notes even more than usual since we brined our turkey for the first time ever. And Mark cooked it on the grill — another first. 

    

    

Even though Thanksgiving turned out to be one of the coldest days in November to be hanging around outdoors, Mark really enjoyed doing the turkey on the grill. Says he can't wait to try it again! And I loved having all that oven space for other dishes. 

Since Mark was totally in charge of the turkey this year, I made him write down all the things he'll want to remember for next time — especially the things we did differently than the recipe and directions suggested. It took a few days but he did it — all beautifully typed out! I added his notes to photocopies of the recipes we used and popped it all into plastic sleeves in my big T-day binder. 

    

 

Of course, the other sign that Thanksgiving is officially over is the end of the leftovers in the fridge. My T-day binder — as you might expect — has lots of clippings and photos of ways to use up those turkey leftovers. I usually make turkey vegetable soup since that's the best use for the carcass. But this year, I finally tried a soup recipe that I've been flipping past for years; always thinking to myself 'maybe next year.' 

Since I found the recipe when I was making my shopping list,  I added the few odd ingredients the recipe called for to the list so I was all set to go into the kitchen again on Friday morning. I made the broth that day and put the soup together the next. Tasted great and looked just like the photo (on the left below) from the very old issue of Gourmet magazine where I found the recipe. 

You've probably dealt with all your leftovers by now, so I offer the recipe for use with your Christmas turkey. Or you can be like me and file it away for next Thanksgiving!

    

TURKEY MULLIGATAWNY SOUP WITH CORIANDER

The carcass of a roast turkey, broken into large pieces

About 18 cups of water plus 1/3 cup of water

4 garlic cloves

three 1-inch pieces of peeled fresh gingerroot 

1/4 cup vegetable oil

2 Tablespoons curry powder

3/4 teaspoon ground cumin

2 large boiling potatoes, peeled and chopped into cubes

3 cups chopped onion

3 carrots, peeled and chopped into cubes

1 cup canned unsweetened cocoanut milk

1/4 cup fresh lime juice

1/3 cup chopped fresh coriander (cilantro) plus sprigs for garnish

In a large stockpot combine the carcass with the water and simmer uncovered for three hours. Strain through a sieve into a large bowl and return the stock to the pot, and boil it until it is reduced to about ten cups.

Puree the garlic and ginger with the 1/3 cup of water. Heat the puree in the oil in a heavy kettle over moderately hot heat. Cook the puree, stirring, for a couple of minutes until the liquid is evaporated. Add the curry and cumin and cook for one minute. Add the potatoes, onions and carrots and five cups of the stock. Simmer the mixture, covered, for about 30 minutes until the vegetables are very soft.

Puree the mixture in a food processor in batches. Return to stock pot and stir in the remaining stock, the cocoanut milk and lime juice and simmer for ten minutes. Add the coriander and serve with a coriander sprig on top.

MY NOTES: The fact that this recipe calls fresh cilantro by the name "coriander," suggests how old it is. Since we had lots of turkey left over, and Mark is not all that partial to cream soups, we added shredded turkey to the soup for the last simmer.