For the memories

There is a homely little plant in my backyard.  It isn't really a shrub but it is something more than a perennial.  It is the perfect example of what landscape designers call the 'wrong plant, wrong place' but nothing would induce me to dig it up.

I planted this lilac seedling in my backyard because I remembered the massive lilac shrubs of my childhood in Minnesota.  Every spring, when the lilacs bloomed the air was filled with the sweet perfume of hundreds of perfect purple, lavender, pink, or white flowers.  It was supposed to grow to 20 feet in order to provide a little shade and privacy to the downstairs bathroom window.

The reality is that the lilac is no match for our brutally hot Alabama summers.  My little lilac tops out at about 4 feet of scraggly stems.  I have managed to root a couple of clippings so I have three of these pitiful little guys struggling to survive. 

But every April, I remember why my lilacs are priceless to me.  Those little stalks produce about a dozen gorgeous purple blooms that send that classic lilac scent wafting across my back deck and through my open windows. 

My happy childhood returns for a three weeks every April.

Best in my show

The Best in Show award for Springtime Trees in my Alabama Backyard goes to Magnolia Ashii!

This native tree begins to bloom just as the fringe tree leafs out.  In my opinion, God saved the best for last. 

This native magnolia does everything bigger and better than any other tree in the Alabama woods.  Its leaves grow to an impressive 30 inches in length and its white blooms are the size of your average dinner plate.  If that isn't impressive enough, the fragrance from just a few blooms perfumes half my garden. 

Growing an ash magnolia can be challenging.  It grows without any effort as long as it is planted precisely; this tree requires well-drained, but moist and slightly acidic soil.  It wants some protection from the brutal Alabama summer sunshine but doesn't want to live in deep shade.  Because it is primarily an understory tree, it may grow in some unusual shapes but does not want to be pruned. 

There is just nothing like it.  I'm thankful that I have just the right spot for this tree in my own backyard.

First comes dogwood, then comes fringe tree

We all associate dogwood trees with spring in the south and their bright white blooms gracing the woodland edges are indeed lovely to see.  For me, however, the next native tree to bloom is far prettier.  Fringe tree,  or my favorite favorite name for this tree, grancy grey beard, creates a stunning show of bright white far superior to the dogwood show.

My photo of this tree does not do it justice, I couldn't get the lighting to cooperate with my limited photography skills.  What is really here is a giant puff ball of white fringe that dances in the wind and fills the vicinity with a delicate fragrance.

The native fringe tree has no issues with disease or pests, grows quickly to a manageable 20 feet, is easy to grow in full sun or partial shade, is a show stopper in the spring, and provides gentle shade all summer.

You would think everyone would have one growing in their backyard.  Sadly, they are hard to find in nurseries.  I'm privileged to have two of them that were given to me as seedlings.  If you ever see one at a nursery, buy it immediately!

Proof that God has a sense of humor

Only God could imagine creating a flower without petals.  These strange little flowers are commonly called Little Brown Jugs because that is exactly what they look like.  They are found under the fallen leaves in quiet woodland nooks and crannies during the early spring.  If you go for a walk in the woods you won't even see them unless you know to brush aside the dead leaves to look for them.  

A little research revealed even more of God's hysterical sense of humor because the lovely brownish maroon color is designed to look like decaying meat in order to attract the ants which pollinate the little jug-like flowers.  Fortunately, God didn't decide to add a roadkill fragrance to his little joke.

In a few days, the new foliage for the little brown jugs will begin to appear.  The foliage is known as heartleaf, a form of wild ginger.  The foliage is prettier than the flowers but the flowers are what make me smile at the wonder of God's creative sense of fun.

Ephemeral beauty

Botanists label many of our native spring plants as ephemerals, plants that live, bloom, and die back in just a short time.  While their days are short, the ephemerals are some of the most uniquely lovely plants in my garden.   It's difficult to find these plants in nurseries because their visible growing and blooming season is so short--it's hard to sell what looks like a pot of dirt.  Most of my ephemerals were carefully harvested from meadows and woodlands and transplanted to my own woodland garden.

While I only see these plants for a few weeks each spring, I feel their energy beneath the surface of my garden's soil.  When spring arrives, I watch eagerly for their foliage to appear and diligently keep watch for their delightful blooms.

I love the mysterious beauty of my ephemeral garden.

My orchid bloomed!

All of my adult life, I have attempted to grow orchids.  I've received them as gifts, gotten babies from other gardeners, and even purchased two of them at a yard sale.  The story has all been the same; they finished blooming (if they were blooming when I got them), looked puny for several months and died.

When I became a Master Gardener, I developed friendships with several expert orchid fanciers.  After listening carefully to their advice, I decided it was time to try again.  Right now, I own three orchids:  a night-blooming cereus, a small orchid of unknown parentage that I received as a cutting from a Master Gardener friend, and a phalaenopsis that my husband bravely gifted me for my birthday last year.

Orchids need highly aerated medium in a container that breaths well, bright (but not sunny) light,  humidity, lots of fertilizer and consistent watering.  I have been diligently neglecting my orchids, desperately trying to give them everything they need without killing them with too much attention.

About eight weeks ago, I noticed a bud stalk beginning to grow in the phalaenopsis.  The process was very slow but I ended up with two surviving buds.  Yesterday, the flowers bloomed!  

I am SO proud of myself.  Please don't remind me that just like germination, the gardener has nothing to do with blooming flowers.  Today, I just want to be proud of my hard work and determination.

Landscape design gone wrong

When I redesigned my foundation landscape design, I included two dwarf crape myrtles, the idea being that the blooms would create some colorful vertical interest in the summer and the trunks some architectural interest during the winter months.  I planted one of them on a sunny corner, the dwarf height of ten feet was important because this corner is the utilities connection.  I planted the second shrub in front of a blank brick wall; once again, the dwarf mature height was important to avoid having the branches growing into the windows and eaves of the house.

This plan seemed successful in the beginning.  The colors were brilliant and as the shrubs grew, the pale trunks were lovely in the winter.  However, someone failed to tell these happy crape myrtles that they were supposed to be dwarves that mature at ten feet.  The corner tree grew right through the power lines to a much taller height of about 15 feet (so far).  The central shrub grew to a massive height, climbing well over the roof line of our two story home.

For the corner tree, I evaluate the structure each spring, carefully pruning out any branches that touch or hang over the power lines.  Once it leafs out, the v-shaped opening in the canopy isn't obvious.  The giant crape myrtle quickly became a troublesome tree, requiring me to climb on a ladder or lean from our upper story windows to prune branches that were scraping the siding or trying to grow through the soffits.

Sadly, the large tree had to come down.  Not owning a chain saw meant that I had to take it out using my pruning saw.  It took a few hours but with some help from my parents, we got the job done.  The new plan will be to allow the crape myrtle to regrow, but this time I will let the tree grow in a multi-trunk form, pruning the individual trunks to the ground as they reach 10-12 feet in height.

Landscapers teach that it is important to plant the right plant in the right place but sometimes even the most careful landscape plan goes wrong because plants to know how to read their own labels.