Farewell sweet tree

While on a garden tour in April 2008, I saw a grancy greybeard tree in bloom for the first time.  The white, fringy flowers of this Alabama native dancing in the breeze warmed my heart.  The property owner allowed us to harvest seedlings so I gently prized two three inch babies from the soil under the tree, gently placed them in a styrofoam cup with a little water from my drinking water and carried them in my hands for hours until I got home to plant them in my backyard.  Both little trees thrived; reaching  the six foot mark this spring. 

Sadly, a large dead tree from the back side of my property fell yesterday, crushing one of my precious grancy greybeards.   I didn't discover this tragedy until I got home from work yesterday afternoon.   I immediately grabbed my gloves and pruning saw in a desperate attempt to see if the tree could be saved.  After thirty minutes of sawing, dragging limbs away, and clearing debris, I was able to release the tree.  It stood itself back up and for a moment I thought perhaps its wounds were not fatal.  However, closer inspection revealed all the limbs on one side had been stripped, cracked or broken off, injuries from which the tree would never recover.

It was with great sadness, that I cut my precious little tree down.  As I laid it on the debris pile, I stroked its glossy leaves and shed a few tears.  Good-bye dear tree. 

Rootstock rose

One of the casualties of the previous winter was my Don Juan climbing rose.  When it was time for spring clean up, I discovered that the graft had died and rotted away.  There was new growth from the rootstock but I didn't know what kind of roses  would bloom from those canes; grafts are made on rootstock that is soil hardy, but not necessarily attractive plants or blooms. 

On the advice of Master Gardener rosarian, Paul Saeger, my intention was to dig and discard that rose bush, but I got busy and then the summer was dry.  (I don't dig in the dry soil in my backyard since it is high in limestone and clay--read "concrete.")   That rootstock rose just kept quietly growing canes on the trellis.

While out in my gardens enjoying the fall blooms this week, I noticed a huge red rose peeking out from the lush overgrowth of moonflower vines that were running rampant over the climbing rose trellis.  That rootstock has produced a velvety red, fragrant rose on a climbing cane that rivals the Don Juan rose for which it was originally just intended to provide root support. 

I'll be keeping my "Rootstock" rose.

This little piggy

I haven't talked about this much, but I am seriously addicted to creative yard art.  Whenever I go to yard sales or thrift stores, I am drawn to items that I think would look fabulous in my back yard.

Recently, I found this awesome little ceramic pig at a yard sale.   I was immensely attracted to his silly grin; then I started grinning when I learned that he was on sale for just 25 cents because he (or perhaps, she) had met with an unfortunate accident that had resulted in the amputation of his right hind leg. 

I brought my new pig home and tucked him into my garden.  That broken leg is hidden in the foliage.  I think she (or maybe, he)  is thrilled with his (or her) new home.

However, my pig needs a name!  What do you suggest?

Sometimes we just want to be left alone

After we built our back deck, I purchased three August Beauty gardenias to plant next to it.  I imagined myself, sitting leisurely on a deck chair on late summer evenings, sipping tea and enjoying their delicate beauty and fragrance.

As I often learn, reality does not always live up to my fabulous plans.  That summer, white flies invaded my back yard,  establishing huge colonies on the undersides of the leaves of my baby gardenias.  Before long, sooty mold began growing on the honey dew extracted by the white flies, covering the foliage with a nasty black film.  No amount of washing or insecticide seemed to deter the white flies from their new home.

By the end of their first summer, one small shrub was completely dead and the others were significantly deformed from losing so many of their branches.  I dug up the two surviving shrubs;  I gave one to a good friend who was willing to try resuscitating it. 

I took the other twiggy shrub and stuck it in the ground in the back corner of my yard.  I carefully explained that "she" was now completely on her own.  If she wanted to live in my backyard she was going to have to survive on rain water and compost. 

It has been six years since I abandoned that gardenia; I can't say that the shrub has thrived but it has slowly filled in the gaps, grown new leaves and established itself in the backyard soil.  This year,  it bloomed for the first time.   There are very few flowers as elegant as a gardenia!

Just like people, plants just want to be left alone sometimes.

Parsley or Butterflies

The other day I was making a fancy tuna casserole that called for a fourth cup of parsley.   I grabbed my garden scissor and skipped down the back steps to my herb garden to cut a handful of fresh parsley, except there wasn't any parsley!  The few remaining sprigs were being devoured by four very healthy looking caterpillars.

In years past, I have grown parsley and fennel in multiple places in the garden so that the eastern black swallowtails and I could share it, but this year I was a little lazy and only planted it in the herb garden.

There is no way I'm going to deprive the butterflies of their baby nursery so I made the recipe without parsley.  When the caterpillars move on to make their chrysalis, the parsley will grow back for me.  Butterflies and their offspring are always welcome in my backyard.

God's perfume

Bob was helping me with some pruning in our backyard the other day and as we were hauling the pruned limbs to the street, I noticed a sweet perfume wafting across the entire yard.  As I glanced around, I couldn't identify where the fragrance was originating or what could be producing it.  Then I realized that the tea olive is in full bloom.

I purchased my tea olive (Osmanthus fragrans) shrub several years ago because it is evergreen from the ground up and matures at about 20 feet.  This is perfect to provide some privacy for my back deck and hide the less than attractive area under the deck.  I was told it was fragrant but fragrance was incidental to the shrub's purpose for me.

However, I am reversing myself--the fragrance is THE reason to grow this amazing shrub.  The flowers are tiny, white, and barely noticeable but one shrub fills half the yard with a sweet, delicate perfume that is like nothing I have ever smelled before.  I would wear this perfume if it were bottled. 

I have a second tea olive in another corner of the back yard that is still not mature enough to produce much fragrance yet.  My new project is going to be planting a tea olive in the two other corners of my backyard so that I can smell God's perfume everywhere I go.

Thinking outside the pot

Two of my best "flower pots" this summer were not planted in pots; one of them is planted in the seat of an old chair and the other is an old wheel barrow.  Planting in chairs and wheel barrows are both fairly common ideas but there are lots of other items that make great planters:  old buckets that leak, old boots or shoes, wood boxes or crates, old toy trucks or wagons, anything in which you can punch a hole in the bottom could be your next best container garden.  Think outside the pot!