Studiology

Stay Calm and Enjoy the Grandchildren

How did big families ever manage?! That has been my ongoing question. My mother was one of 6, and is some cases that was a small family. After 4 days with 3 grandchildren and family, 1 granddog (part time) and parent, cooking, cleaning etc.. I'm befuddled! I guess everyone had a task or a job in the family unit. For my sweet daughter it's baby time, light sleep, diaper changing, feeding, cleaning and begin again. For 2 year old Quinn it's a constant "I don't want to" or "I want to", "not enough" or "too much".  

Cuddles help. Sweet moments in between chaos and adorable smiles can melt the heart. This is how my last 4 days transpired. It's all good!

Now back to work where I can relax....

Seed

Seed, the gardener's world has gone to seed. Berries, floating puff balls, the dispersal is upon us. As these varied embryos fall or fly, they are prepared to wait for the perfect set of circumstances to occur before they risk the one chance they have to sprout. So many days of cold, cycles of freezing and thawing, even the correct shade of light; bright, totally dark, or somewhere in between say grow. 

Trees and shrubs are often sealed with a hard coat. The shell that protects the interior, hard as a rock (literally), it may take two years, a passing of two winters before the seed walls are weakened enough. Think of that and then understand that water lotus seeds have sprouted after waiting two thousand years! 

Annual plants, those that live a growing season and then die have simpler seed, naked in comparison. Produced in such abundance, literally falling in heaps, if one emerges too early, there are hundreds, thousands to take their place. These are the first to arrive in open spaces, the first in succession. A trigger is often sunlight, a bright level of light says grow, grow while nothing else resides here. And they do, out pacing others as they rush to fill the vacancy. Exuberant in their pursuit of life, optimistic and carefree.

Most gardeners grow some plants from seed. Well, we all grow plants from seed by simply gardening, but I mean intentionally. Do you have a seed collection? Envelopes, partly used seed packets, or the random plastic prescription bottle devoted to zinnia seeds? Some of these seeds are viable for a very long time (as pointed out), others may weaken or lose their ability to sprout. Storing seeds in a cool, dark place is helpful, also using paper envelopes or glassine envelopes to maintain even temperatures. 

You can always check the viability of your annual seed by rolling some up in a moist paper towel and placing them in a sealed bag (like a ziplock bag). Moisten the towel, squeeze so it's not dripping wet, line your seed along the top, do about ten, roll it up and slide into your bag. Check every other day or so, some may sprout in a day, others three to ten days. This test for viability will determine the percentage of seeds that are good and you can sow accordingly. Much better than the pot, soil, and wait method. 

With hardy seeds, perennial or woody, I prefer to sow in fall, now to be exact. Freeze cycles send clear messages and seed coats weaken. In separate pots I will line them up outside. Maybe cover them in chicken wire to keep out hungry squirrels. A general rule for planting is three times a seed's size deep. Small seeds can be surface sown (like draba),  something as large as an acorn would be two to three inches deep. Letting the natural cycles of winter take their course helps mightily. 

Hard seed can be fooled into sprouting by nicking the hard shell. A rub between sand paper or a nick with nail clippers lets water permeate the outer shell. This technique may work if you are intent on indoor sowing. Nursery operators have many methods to coax a seed to sprout, everything from gibbrellic acid baths to cold stratification, which mimics the outdoors but speeds up the process. 

Now is seed collecting time. If you wait, berries may be gone, annual seed will have fallen, and many others will have been blown away. Find them before you can't. For outdoor sowing of hardy plants, finish by mid-December. Too long in warm storage will certainly hamper their ability to sprout, confusion for the seed and exasperation for the gardener.

Krampus and Company

That not so jolly Krampus is back. He's a smaller version of the three I created last Christmas, but certainly no less menacing. White hair is a departure, more like the original nut crackers, those totally innocent nutcrackers which lack the teeth, the claws, the horns!

Also added to the new line-up is a small piece I titled "Figurehead" after the figureheads of ship bows, the wood carvings of  figures that guide each ship. The top is an eyepiece with compass points behind.

Quite a few new Pez dispensers too. One of my favorites is the white rabbit of Alice in Wonderland. 

Joined by another hookah smoking caterpillar, participants in the same story.

And lastly the ornaments, altered light bulbs.

All available at Art A La Carte in Occoquan, Virginia.

The End

I have been averting my eyes as I pass by my raised beds, the garden that is a summer wonder. The death, the limp leaves, the loss of things I didn't save. I have aged and made decisions, cut some ties, hardened my heart. In comparison I guess I still kept more than most, the things that weren't saved had run their course, I had given them many years of happiness in a climate that is more severe than their life can endure. 

What was dug and lifted include 3 gigantic brugmansias, most of my tender bulbs, a huge begonia and my night blooming cereus 'Mark Twain'. Left behind were various tender bulbs, 2 other night blooming cereus, a sentimental pachypodium (almost as tall as me), and 1 brugmansia. 

One can't help but spend a little time considering the alternative of just planting perennials (and shrubs) that will reappear in spring and cause so little worry, provide sustenance for wildlife and do their thing with less maintenance. Well, I do that too, but to a much smaller degree. The summer garden is where my heart belongs and I suppose I should move to a tropical climate.

But since that isn't happening, at least not right now, I see that these decisions will become more and more of an issue. One considerations, outside of building a greenhouse, is to enjoy the gardens of places that do this tropical stuff well. On that note, I recently visited Green Spring Gardens in Annandale and was surprised to see so many new salvias. It was the eve of the killing freeze, which may or may not have laid them down, but there was certainly lots of joyous plants to see. One new line of hybridization is the Mexican sage or Salvia leucantha, which now comes in white on white (white bracts and flowers), pink and white and the (now old) purple and purple.  

With little hesitation, I already know that next year's garden will have some of these tender salvias. They flower on a short day schedule, which means you don't have a show till late summer, but that is a fine time in the garden. I rarely feel the anxiety, or possessiveness to actually dig them up or even make cuttings, so it's a win win. There have been salvia years, my gardener's clock arrives there and I think the span is every 4 or 5 years before I return. But my point was, we have some great gardens to visit and enjoy the fruits of their labor, as time marches on and the gardener reduces the load, joy can be found is something as simple as a stroll in these beautiful spaces.  

I on the other hand, will go a bit longer, have a summer garden for a few more years (lots more years), and maybe expand my perennial beds, just in case. And add more shrubs.  

 

November

Henry Mitchell once wrote that the first eight days of November are some of the finest of the year. Of course the gardener never thinks of these days as particularly memorable. Scenes of April and May are what flashes in our head. November seems like a winter month, a cold month.

And today, November the third, you have to wonder if Mr. Mitchell's observation might be accurate. He may have a point. The oak trees are beginning to color, cool season perennials are green and happy, and lots of shrubs are coloring or holding onto spent flowers, like Hydrangea paniculata or the oak leaf hydrangea. The sepals of Abelia mosanensis are poised on long stems, resembling little green and red flowers, an observation that is lost if you are not walking around in the garden in a month that is potentially forgotten. 

Some fields are rich in tans and browns, primarily from our native schizachyriums or little bluestem. Warm and warmer our colors grow. By month's end they may be less tan, the trees sparse. 

Would a gardener actually plan a garden for November? It's certainly not impossible. Beside camellias, there are the many berried shrubs. Hamamelis virginiana or our native witch hazel is in flower now. The foliage of the perennial amsonia is just beginning to turn yellow, far from its peak color. Oak leaf hydrangea leaves are plum and red, mine flowering over Crocus speciosus with its purple goblet shaped flowers. Seed heads of agastache and eupatorium are hairy puffs, absolutely incredible in a bed of bronze fennel.  

I suggest you walk around in your garden, take notes, maybe even photographs. Look to the sky, the deep blue sky of fall, walk on the soft, newly fallen leaves. Think about November as a month to plan for, or at the very least, a month to pay attention to.