Strike out

There once was a huge silver maple tree in my backyard.  Although we found its root system a terrible inconvenience, we all enjoyed its lovely shade.  Sadly, old age combined with the worse drought in years dealt a death blow to the grand tree. 

Although the tree leafed out this spring as normal, it started dropping large branches; the wood was brittle and dry.   In addition, there were suckers sprouting from the base and along the major trunks, yet another sign of severe stress.  When I pruned the suckers from the base, I discovered that they were masking growing decay in the main trunk and two of the four main branches. 

A decision had to be made; would we let the tree slowly die by allowing it to continue to drop branches at random times or should we have the tree removed to avoid the risk of property damage or worse, injury to someone beneath the tree.  After already losing two trees this summer, it was difficult to make the decision to remove yet another one.   But there was really no other reasonable choice.

This morning, I sadly surveyed the wreck of my lovely shaded garden.  I've moved some plants to other shady spots in my backyard, others will probably survive, while some may fade away in the bright sun.  I've acquired a few sun-loving shrub cuttings to plant there in the fall.  I asked the tree men to cut the stump high to use as a pedestal memorial to our tree. 

Losing three trees feels like a strike out; a failure at landscape design.  The truth is that a garden is an ever-changing, always developing endeavor.  Death is a part of the process of life that requires me to constantly assess where I am and challenges me to adapt and grow.

Hollyhocks--not quite

Several years ago, my gardening friend, Elaine, gave me a baby hollyhock seeded from plants she had purchased at a visit to Mt. Vernon.  It was much smaller than traditional hollyhocks and was willingly reseeded in my garden.

Because I enjoy them so much I collected the seeds last summer and deliberately started them so that I could create a larger collection for the garden.  It worked.  They readily germinated and transplanted easily into a sunny spot in my garden.

Last week they began blooming in profusion, although I noticed they had acquired some rust spots--the bane of hollyhocks in any garden. 

When writing for my blog, I always double check my facts.  It was a good thing I did on this one.  My miniature hollyhocks are really zebra mallow (malva sylvestris).  They are supposed to be impervious the the pests and diseases that can plague true hollyhocks but you can see in the photos that even researchers can get their facts wrong on occasion.  Our wet, humid summer is probably a contributing factor for the rust.

No matter the label, hollyhocks or zebra mallow, are a colorful addition to my backyard.

Strike two

Thanks to poor landscape design and Alabama Power, I lost the cedar tree in the front yard.  Today, I cut down my precious little Japanese maple, yet another victim of the drought of 2016.

I purchased this maple as a four inch seedling in 2007 while touring a Japanese maple wholesaler with my Master Gardener group.   Named and marketed Japanese maples are all grafted (and thus expensive).  The nursery was also filled with volunteer seedlings that had cross pollinated from their extensive maple populations.  The nursery workers would pot up the ones that looked interesting and let guests to the nursery purchase these little "mutts" for $4. 

After carefully perusing the hundreds of baby Japanese maples in the nursery, I chose one with deeply cut leaves in a deep shade of burgundy.  I brought my baby home, named him Acer fitzgerald and enjoyed the show he put on every year as he grew to a sturdy six foot specimen. 

Of course, we all knew that even established trees and shrubs were struggling from the horrendous conditions of last summer's drought but my Japanese maple seemed to handle it well.  He leafed out right on schedule this spring.

However, yesterday, I was outside just when a sunbeam burst through the clouds and illuminated Acer fitzgerald.  Much to my horror, I realized that his leaves were not burgundy red, but a sickly shade of orange.  Closer inspection revealed its dry and crumbling leaves.  Apparently, the root system was so damaged by the dry conditions that it could no longer support a canopy of leaves. 

This morning, little Acer fitzgerald came down.  There is yet another painful gap in my landscape.  My small hope is that the seed pods that I found on some of the branches will sprout and we can try again.

I'm ready!

After laying around in the backyard for two years, my rain barrel is finally doing its job.  I was given the barrel, used a reclaimed spigot, purchased a yard sale strainer (25 cents) for mosquito protection, and mounted it on reclaimed bricks from the remodel  of our front porch. 

The total cost of this project included the help of a handy neighbor and some muscle from my sweet husband. 

We were in business just in time for the rainy weather that moved through our area this past weekend.  I was shocked and amazed to discover that that rain barrel was completely full after just 1/2 inch of rain in the rain gauge.  The gutter that fills it only drains one side of our garage.  It is hard to imagine just how much rain water flows off our entire roof every time it rains!

My intention is to use this water for my container gardens which use the bulk of my hose watering each summer.  I'm ready!

Bumper crop of garlic

Was it the mild winter or the summer drought that produced this bumper crop of garlic?  This year's crop yielded about 1/3 more bulbs than usual, six of them being of exceptional size.

I brought garlic corms to my garden from my grandmother Etta's garden in Florida over 20 years ago.  I wasn't sure where I wanted my garlic patch to be so I just stuck them in the ground in a flower bed.  What I didn't know about garlic is that once you plant it in a particular location it will establish itself firmly and no amount of careful digging will remove it.  There is always that one little corm that drops off the garlic bulb back into the soil to grow for next year.  As a result of my attempts to find just the "right" location, we now have a little bit of garlic growing in nooks and crannies all over the back yard.

Of course, I am pleased with my garlic crop no matter how it came to be.  Everything tastes better when cooked with a little garlic.