Category: gardening

gardening, nature

The first snow of the season

suzielinn

“I’ll know I am growing old when I no longer thrill to the first snow of the season.” ~ Lady Bird Johnson

North Texas had their first – and maybe only – snow of the season yesterday, January 9th. Mother Nature’s gift to me on my 57th birthday – inches and inches of white fluffy snow. The forecast called for the snow to end overnight but, at noon, it was still softly falling.

“He brewed his tea in a blue china pot, poured it into a chipped white cup with forget-me-nots on the handle, and dropped in a dollop of honey and of cream. He sat by the window, cup in hand, watching the first snow fall. ‘I am,’ he sighed deeply, ‘contented as a clam. I am a most happy man.'” ~ Ethel Pochocki, from Wildflower Tea

A Texas snow day is the perfect time to slow down, brew a pot of tea, pull out the seed catalogs and dream of warmer days ahead.

“Anyone who thinks that gardening begins in the spring and ends in the fall is missing the best part of the whole year, for gardening begins in January with the dream.” ~ Josephine Neuse

A garden is never “finished” for it is ever evolving, changing over the seasons, as either the gardener or Mother Nature intervenes. I continue on my wellness journey with dreams and plans to grow even more of our food this year, as the work and the harvests nourish and strengthen both my body and soul. I am still enamored with the concept of food forests, mimicking Mother Nature in the suburban fruit and veg garden, but changes will be made this year for I have realized that I tend to let the garden grow feral by late in the summer. I don’t have the heart to pull out the aggressive reseeders. Passionvines that scrambles and smothers everything in its path yet feeds the caterpillars of the gulf fritillary butterfly. An unknown variety of salvia that draws bees from far and wide. Garlic chives that attract and feed late summer butterflies. My solution is to strategically add raised beds, dedicated areas just for vegetables – no aggressive reseeders allowed zones. Will this work? I don’t know. But I am hopeful that this also will give me more areas to grow root crops that struggle in our clay soils. I have amended our soil with organic matter constantly over the nearly 30 years at this property but it simply remains too heavy in wide sections of the property. If nothing else, it further proves that, yes, a crazy plant lady lives here!

“I suppose it all started with the snow. You see, it was a very special kind of snow — a snow to make the happy happier and the giddy even giddier… for it was the first snow of the season. And as any child can tell you, there’s a certain magic to the very first snow.” ~ Romeo Muller’s Frosty the Snowman

“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, ‘Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.'” ~ Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking-Glass And What Alice Found There

I have collected Campania statuary for more than a quarter of a century now, which is an odd thing to say. A quarter of a century. Y2K. Wasn’t that just yesterday?

The birdbath above is not mine, though it presently resides in my front garden, a daily reminder to live each day to the fullest. I am bird bath sitting for a friend, married in the year 2000, as her life has taken some unexpected turns due to cancer and fulfilling dreams. We worked together many moons ago, pre-motherhood for both of us. Our children are grown now, though in my mind my boy still loves Ralph, the motorcycle riding mouse. (Photograph below.)

The year 2000 seems so long ago and yet feels like yesterday. My friend and I now share a connection no one wants – both of our husbands have cancer. I am reminded of the quote, “To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.” Gardening is an act of hope – an act of defiance! – that even though dark days may lie ahead, spring will come again. And with it, the season of renewal, of rebirth. Just as the plants again spring forth from the ground, so does our belief in tomorrow. It’s no coincidence that seed catalogs flood our mailboxes in the longest nights of winter.

While I have battled chronic autoimmune issues most of my life, my husband had always been so healthy. In a blink of an eye, that changed. One beautiful sunshiny May day in 2024, he was healthy. The next day, he was a cancer patient.

My husband is a hardcore cyclist, often biking 50 or more miles after working a full day in the office. Biking is in his veins. He loves the adrenaline of the open road, powered by his own two legs and the energy within two thin wheels.

I have a thing for old wheels. I, too, love the energy that is held within each circle, though from a philosophical point of view and not a physical one. In the weeks after my husband’s diagnosis, I stacked up the old bike wheels scattered about my garden and created a trellis of hope. (Photograph above.) The energy within each simple wheel is the energy that powers us through life. My trellis of hope is leaning a bit at the moment, a wayward passionvine is frozen in place, but it still brings me comfort and peace. None of us make it out of this life without some troubles and traumas. We can either perish under the weight or we can ride on, looking for sunnier days ahead.

“The first fall of snow is not only an event but it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of world and wake up to find yourself in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment, then where is it to be found? ~ J. B. Priestley

(All photographs taken today, Friday, January 10, 2024, in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden.)

gardening

Beauty is all around us

suzielinn

The new year – 2025 – is here, along with bright sunshine and crystal clear blue skies. Alas. An Arctic cold front is lurking in the forecast, a reminder that it is, after all, January in Texas. Time to find the outdoor faucet covers and frost cloth for pipes and plants will need tucked in for a few nights. (As do our pets.)

I was wandering about the garden this afternoon, assessing the chores that need tackled this weekend. One of the roses that survived the early waves of rose rosette disease is now inflicted and must be bagged and removed immediately. Leaves are a constant chore this time of year. As much as I would love to “leave them all be” (bad pun intended), we would be knee deep in leaves if we didn’t do something about them. Plants were bought in early fall to redo a few shadier spots of the property and they really need to be tucked in the ground sometime soon. I have space remaining for a few more winter vegetables and herbs, if I am inclined to add some. The upcoming freeze will mean even more open planting space, as the last of the tomatoes and peppers can be cut back now and carted off to the compost pile. But the first order of business tomorrow – Winter Protection. There is always something to do in the garden, isn’t there? Sometimes enjoyable work. Sometimes not so much. I dread removing yet another large, well established rose bush, yet I am looking forward to planting more winter vegetables, knowing I will appreciate them come February. One must find that balance in the garden – and in life! – to keep the spirit alive and energized and not too overwhelmed. Sometimes we need a little reminder that beauty is all around us, for it is easy to get bogged down in the chores and overlook the beauty that surrounds us.

“It is the beauty within us that makes it possible for us to recognize the beauty around us. The question is not what you look at but what you see.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

The verdant greens of winter, such as the collards above and the mustard greens below, are especially captivating. So much flavor and nutrition packed in every deeply veined and textured leaf. Greens – including kale, lettuce and Swiss chard, can be planted from fall through winter in North Texas. They are easy to start inside to transplant outdoors as weather and space permits. Transplants are also readily available at most garden centers. Cilantro, a cool season herb, can also be planted outside this time of year and only needs winter protection when the temperatures drop in to the 20’s as they will this weekend.

“If you truly love nature, you will find beauty everywhere.” ~ Vincent Van Gogh

I am constantly amazed at the beautiful fungi that grow on the logs that edge my vegetable beds, proving that there is beauty even in the decomposition of nature.

“Every man should be born again on the first of January. Start with a fresh page. Take up one hole more in the buckle, if necessary, or let down one, according to circumstances; but, on the first of January let every man gird himself once more, with his face to the front, and take interest in the things that are and are to be, and not in the things that were and are past.” ~ Henry Ward Beecher

Tomato seeds were sown indoors in the first few days after Christmas and a few are already poking up out of the soil. It is always good to remind myself not to count my chickens before they hatch, but it is hard not to feel overly optimistic about the upcoming spring garden season when those first tomato seedlings emerge.

The edible garden in January:

Watch for onion slips/sets to arrive at garden centers soon. They can be planted outside this month.

Swiss chard can be sown either indoors or outside.

Lettuce, kale and collards are best sown inside then transplanted outdoors. (Be sure to harden off young transplants.)

Sow tomato seeds indoors, for spring planting.

Eggplant and peppers can be sown indoors in mid-January for spring planting.

Fruit trees and berries are arriving at garden centers now. Shop early for best selection. Be sure to research best varieties for your area and mature sizes for your garden space.

January is also a great time to prepare new vegetable beds for spring planting.

Photographs taken January 3, 2025, in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden.

gardening

Goodbye 2024

suzielinn

As 2024 closes out, I find myself wandering about the garden, reflecting on what this year has been and looking ahead to 2025. I am filled with a gardener’s optimism at new opportunities and new adventures that await in the coming year.

2024 was a year of lessons and growth, filled with good times and challenges and many unforgettable moments.

Perhaps the most unforgettable moment of all was in January when we (finally!) removed three large cedar elms from the back section of my gardens. (Photo below…) The trees sprouted some years prior, seeds blown in from a neighbor’s tree. As junk trees tend to do, these grew fast and furious, a daunting task to cut down.

This is forever an unforgettable moment as the last of the three trees twisted as it fell and landed with a Plop. Right in the neighbor’s in-ground hot tub! Thankfully the tree didn’t damage anything and the neighbor wasn’t too upset at us. But it was quite a chore getting the tree up and out of the water and up and over the fence.

The trees were cut into long sections and now edge my latest vegetable bed. (Photo below…) I had plans to construct a greenhouse out of an old metal gazebo but record rainfall this spring led to a rather lush garden by June and I didn’t have the heart to remove or cut back any of the plants to make room for the project. Perhaps this will be my first project of 2025, as nothing is stronger than a gardener’s wintertime optimism.

2024 was my 29th year gardening this same patch of earth and what a year it was – for rain! By early June, the ground was so saturated and water was standing the entire length of our property along the west side of our house. I ended up digging a trench to push the water away from our garage to the ditch that runs behinds our property line. (Photo below…) Eventually, I will need to decide what to do with the trench – fill it in with soil or construct a dry creek bed? It currently sits much the way it was in June, though thankfully drier now.

This last day of 2024, we are now roughly six weeks past our average first freeze of the season, a good example of the extremes that make up an average. We have been down near freezing a few times and have even had a few mornings with a light frost on the ground, but nothing cold enough – or not cold for long enough – to kill off tender plants. Sure, the tomato plants look brutal, nearly ten months now since their planting date, and the harvests are much smaller now, but these bonus harvests are such a treasure in wintertime. (Photo below…) Eggplant and peppers are also still growing and producing, though the first full week of January looks to finally bring us a killing freeze.

Not to be outdone by the tender vegetables, even the tropical mandevilla vine is still blooming. (Photo below…)

One of my gardening goals for 2025 is to reign in the self-seeding passionvine. I have vowed to only let a handful grow, as they have a habit of popping up everywhere and scrambling over everything in their path. I love the blossoms and the fact that the vine is the host plant for the gulf fritillary butterfly. Alas. The vines sure can get out of hand by the end of summer! Our weather has been so mild lately that a few caterpillars are still munching down on the foliage.

This spring and early summer, many of my noontime meals were entirely from my garden, though the heat of summer and sudden switch from too much rain to not a drop of rain was quick and intense and brutal on the garden. Fall rains have been nicely spaced out and many of the “winter greens” are doing quite well, including the Red Dragon cabbage. (Shown in photo below…)

Red Giant mustard (shown below) is also doing very well. In 2025, I would like to write more about my chronic health issues and what prompted me to switch from ornamental gardening to edible gardening, along with my reasons for growing vibrantly hued vegetables.

I planted a number of dwarf ornamental pomegranates (shown below) about six years ago when I was in transition – a former ardent rose gardener but not yet a veg and fruit gardener. I have yet to decide what to do about these pomegranates. Yes, they are beautiful! Alas. The fruits are not suitable to eat and they are taking up valuable real estate. I have since planted a number of edible pomegranates, though they are still a few years away from producing a crop.

And on that note – Here’s to a healthy and active new year. May 2025 be filled with many happy days spent in the garden, either hard at work or simply meandering about barefoot. Be well, my gardening friends.

(The first two photographs were taken in January 2024. The third photo was taken in June 2024. The remaining photographs were taken December 30, 2024. All photos taken in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden.)

gardening

November comes and November goes…

suzielinn

November comes and November goes and with it, 2024 is nearing its end.

One frenetic month to go before we usher in a new year, a new beginning, a time when hope springs eternal and the seed catalogs flood the mailbox and the promise of a new gardening year begins again.

November comes
      And November goes,
      With the last red berries
      And the first white snows.
With night coming early,
      And dawn coming late,
      And ice in the bucket
      And frost by the gate.
The fires burn
      And the kettles sing,
      And earth sinks to rest
      Until next spring.
~Elizabeth Coatsworth

Thankfully my North Texas garden hasn’t seen snow yet – or even frost by the gate – as Elizabeth Coatsworth’s poem flows. Our earth never truly sinks to rest as it does it does in colder gardening climates. Winter gardening in this region can be that Lagniappe – that extra little something – Mother Nature’s way of saying, “You made it through another Texas summer! Here is a little extra, your reward, a little something.” Some gardeners retreat inside, happy to curl up with a cup of hot tea and dream of the spring garden… Others are planting collard greens and kale and preparing new garden beds for the seasons ahead. Both are perfectly acceptable. That is the joy of gardening – You do you! Because… She who plants a garden plants happiness.

(Photo above: I am always on the hunt for preowned garden items, whether from estate sales, thrift stores or antique markets. This little plaque came from an estate sale, out of a dusty old greenhouse. Oh, how I wish I knew the gardener! But her spirit lives on now in my garden.)

You Do You may well be my garden motto, though I am quite unsure how to put that in the first person. My garden is unique. Not everyone’s cup of tea. But I am good with that. I garden for my self – both for my physical health and my mental health. This year, I opened my garden for three garden tours, two formal tours and one very informal tour. Each time I had the same apprehension. I know my garden can be… a bit much. But I love it that way. It is free spirited, much like myself. A bit wild around the edges.

Last year, I joined the local garden club, which is still in its very early years of existence. For background: We bought our home 29 years ago, knowing how I wanted to garden. For that reason, we sought out a property tucked away from street view and without an HOA. Our property – and my garden – are not the norm for this area and especially not for this suburban garden club. When I offered my garden as a stop along their progressive supper/garden tour, it was with a disclaimer: My garden was anything but a standard suburban garden! The garden club visited my garden in early May, the final stop of the evening and the ladies lingered over tea and homemade rosemary orange cake. The feedback was all lovely and I do hope that many were encouraged to think outside the box, to have some fun in their own gardens.

A few years after we bought our home, I attended a garden club’s plant sale in a nearby suburb. I loved the club and the gardeners so much that I decided to join, as our suburb was still small at the time and we didn’t yet have a club. This year marks my 25th year as a member of that garden club and the third time I have opened my gardens for a tour.

I have said before that gardeners are a fickle lot when it comes to the weather, so it goes without saying… Between the first garden tour in May and this second garden tour five weeks later, it rained….

And rained.

And rained.

We swung from historic drought to historic flooding rains in a matter of weeks. Our garage flooded for the first time ever. Two days before the June tour, I was up to my ankles in mud, digging a trench along the side of our property, trying to get the water to drain away from the house, in hopes that the main path to the back gardens would dry out enough to make it passable for garden visitors.

As more rain was falling and even more rain was forecast, I spent the day before the tour hauling in mulch and placing a new stepping stone path along the other – slightly higher – side of the house.

With even more rain falling, I decided on Plan C.

I posted a note on the front door: Please come through the house. Don’t worry about tracking in mud. Seriously. Do Not Worry! Mud Happens!

The rain that fell that June morning would be the last that my garden would see until late October. But that June day was glorious. The rain cleared off, the sun came out and I had 80 or so garden club members through my garden.

The third garden tour of the year was quite unexpected and very informal. A neighbor wanted to organize a block party over the Fourth of July weekend and asked if we would mind if it was held outside our home, our property being tucked away at the end of the subdivision and away from vehicular traffic. I had long assumed that most of our neighbors simply put up with me, the eccentric gardener at the end of the street, so I was unprepared for all the requests for garden tours. I didn’t have the chance to reign in the weeds or to tuck in some of the crazy…

(… because every free spirited garden needs a disco ball!)

But – from what I heard – the gardens lived up to everyone’s expectations of what the rest of my gardens would look like. From the driveway food forest to the (shh… back garden annex…), the neighbors loved what they saw. A little fun, a little wild, packed full of plants of every sort.

I don’t know quite how it happened, but then – in a blink of an eye – that early July day is now… almost December? Summer and autumn went by much too fast.

(Photo above: This morning’s harvest, what may be the last of the summer vegetables from 2024.)

I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December,
A magical thing,
And sweet to remember:
“We are nearer to spring
Than we were in September.”
~Oliver Herford

The first seed catalog arrived in the mail just a few days ago and I have yet to find time to sit down and dream and plot and plan, but I know cold wet days are ahead and seed catalogs always make one feel hopeful and cozy when most needed. The garden walk this morning was good for the soul, a sunny yet crisp cold day, this last day of November.

(Photo above: cypress vine growing over a pepper plant.)

By this time of year, the gardens are late season feral and overgrown, vines scampering and rambling, smothering everything in their path. It makes harvesting an adventure, a real life Jumanji meets Easter egg hunt. I have made a mental note to keep the vines in check next year, to not let them get out of control. But I know… I will see them in full bloom, hummingbirds and butterflies flitting about, and let them be. You do you. And this is me.

This morning, I harvested roselle hibiscus, which I will dehydrate to use this winter in teas and in dying papers and fabrics.

November is usually such a disagreeable month…as if the year had suddenly found out that she was growing old and could do nothing but weep and fret over it. This year is growing old gracefully…just like a stately old lady who knows she can be charming even with gray hair and wrinkles. We’ve had lovely days and delicious twilights. This last fortnight has been so peaceful…. ~ Lucy Maud Montgomery

The garden is growing old gracefully this year. We have had cold nights, but have yet to have a freeze. The roses (above) and salvias (below) are still blooming, as if they know December and colder days are coming. But, until then… I am out enjoying the garden, feral as it is.

gardening, nature

Rome wasn’t built in a day

suzielinn

And neither was a garden!

One of the comments I hear most often about my garden is, “You must spend a lot of time in your garden!”

I hear that with both inflections…

Good: This is such a beautiful, peaceful retreat you have created, you must spend a lot of time in it!

And

Not So Good: This looks like a lot of work! You must spend a lot of time out here taking care of it!

My general answer is, Well, Yes and Yes but also… Not so much.

Yes, my garden is a lot of work. For the most part, though, it is very enjoyable work. Gardening soothes my soul and calms my mind. Yes, I do spend a lot of time in the garden, both for pleasure (relaxing) and because the weeds aren’t going to pull themselves. But also – not so much, because what visitors to my garden see is… 28 years of work.

Yes, I often spend entire days outside in the garden, especially in late winter and early spring when I am cutting back the previous year’s flower stalks and resetting my vegetables from cool season crops to summer ones. And I did just spend ten hours weeding and mulching the Saturday before a garden club came to tour my gardens. Where many people might see that as work, I see that as (mostly) pleasurable. The few exceptions are junk trees, briars and trumpet vine, but that is where the ritual morning and/or evening garden stroll comes in handy. Newly sprouted cedar elm or oak trees, for example, are easy to spot and pluck up. Give them a season and they are a chore to remove.

I (even? especially?) enjoy the physical aspect of hauling mulch, as it reminds me to be thankful for the ability to do such tasks. It wasn’t that long ago (four years ago, to be exact) that I didn’t know if I would ever be strong enough to haul mulch again. Our bodies are designed for movement and physical work, something that is often overlooked in today’s world.

But Rome wasn’t built in a day and it takes time for a garden to develop, to come together, to mature and evolve and settle in. I can look back at photographs taken of our property 20… 25… 28 years ago and think, I have put a lot of work in to this garden! But what I see is the evolution of both the garden and the gardener. I don’t now remember the back breaking work of removing so much sod, hauling in bricks and rocks and dump truck loads of compost and mulch. This garden wasn’t built in a day. It grew day by day and season by season until I am now approaching 30 years of living and gardening here. A labor of love perhaps, but a sanctuary for this gardener and for the visitors that flutter through.

Photograph taken May 17, 2024, in my Southern Denton County, Texas, garden.

gardening, nature

No room? So soon?

suzielinn

I am afraid it has happened.

I have purchased plants and they need planted.

And. I have… no space for them?

It was bound to happen at some point. But so soon? I have only just begun my garden. (…twenty-eight years ago…)

I am hesitant to share this information around too much. I don’t want word to get out. (…to my Chief Financial Officer…)

It is sad to think that I may never get new plants again. It is sad to think of skipping spring plant sales. It is sad to think of walking right past the pretty plants at the garden center and none following me home.

In all that sadness, I decided I needed to sleep on my conundrum. To give the situation at hand a fresh new look in the morning, in the hopes that perhaps some space might magically open up overnight. (And not via a Vacancy sign popping up on a favorite plant, suddenly stricken overnight by disease or pests!)

And what should happen, but the following morning’s garden stroll revealed… a lightbulb moment…

It isn’t so much that I am “out of space,” rather my garden is full.

Full of winter bulb foliage that needs to die back naturally, in order to feed next year’s blooms.

Full of coneflowers and winecups that I have allowed to reseed and spread and sprawl and ramble about.

Full of daylily foliage, which have been loving our abundant spring rains and growing and doubling in size seemingly overnight.

My garden is equally full of rainlilies and passionvines, both super spreaders in my garden.

Yes. My garden is full.

But the bulb foliage will eventually be cut back and the bulbs will be dug and divided and replanted. The tall bearded irises also desperately need divided and thinned out.

And I really should thin the coneflowers and winecups, but both feed the bees and butterflies that visit my garden. The winecups will finish their bloom cycle soon enough and I will cut back their rambling vines and they will disappear beneath the ground until next spring. The coneflowers may well shrink in numbers, beat down by the summer sun, as is typical in years past.

(Shown below: Texas native winecups, rambling over dwarf Yaupon holly shrub.)

I could stand to pull a few of passionvines that pop up here and there about the garden. But just as I think that, a gulf fritillary butterfly happens by and deposits her eggs and – right before my eyes – nature is complete, right here on my own little piece of Earth that I garden. (Shown in photograph below.)

Am I out of garden space? Perhaps. But for now, I prefer to think that my garden is just bursting out at the seams and jubilantly growing, lush from inches and inches of spring rains.

(Shown below: Coneflower growing outside its flower bed.)

All photographs taken today, May 8th, in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden.

gardening, nature

April Showers And May Flowers

suzielinn

If April showers bring May flowers, I should expect a flood of flowers this month.

I know I have said this before – and I likely will say it a thousand more times – but we gardeners are a fickle lot.

It’s too hot. Or too cold. Too wet. Or much too dry.

I am sure someone somewhere is gardening in utopia, but a garden utopia Texas is not!

Much of the state experienced a record setting freeze in February 2021, which was quickly followed by a summer of record setting heat and drought. The following two summers saw us again experiencing record high temperatures. Much – all? – of the state has been in a prolonged drought, with little rainfall even in what are normally our wetter months of the year. Are gardeners fickle about the weather or are we just more aware of the weather patterns and the seasons? Many times over this past winter, I heard gardeners lament the lack of rain and the possibility of another unseasonably warm and dry spring. I am not so sure, I would counter. We are due for a really wet spring, we haven’t had one in a decade or so. It’s time for the precipitation pendulum to swing from drought to flooding.

Truer words (aka: armchair weather forecasting) may have never before been spoken.

Rain, rain and more rain seems to be our current weather pattern. My new rain gauges, purchased two years ago, are finally getting a workout.

And the flowers.

Oh.My.

The Flowers! The garden on May 1st is truly a flood of flowers!

Giant Imperial Larkspur, shown above, is looking especially stately and regal. I allowed last year’s flowers to reseed at will and the results this year are outstanding.

While the rains have left a few of the early season daylily blossoms looking a bit ragged, this one is beautifully perfect. (Unknown red daylily, shown above.)

“As full of spirit as the month of May, and as gorgeous as the sun in Midsummer,” William Shakespeare

The sunny bright yellow blossoms of Coreopsis, shown below, have been especially welcoming given the many April days of overcast skies and rain-heavy clouds.

“May, more than any other month of the year, wants us to feel most alive,” Fennel Hudson

Most days start with a garden stroll, my rescue mutt Princess Leia running out ahead of me, ensuring that the garden is safe from squirrels and rabbits. While she is dashing rapidly from corner to corner, I – still clad in my pajamas and not quite awake – take a more leisurely pace, stopping to see small details, such as a spider’s handiwork on a poppy bud. (Shown below.)

While some gardeners gravitate toward a formal layout and design, I prefer an informal approach. A cottage garden? A wildflower garden? So many ways to approach gardening or describe one’s garden, no one way necessarily better than the other. To each their own. I take the laid back approach, often letting plants wander about. This Nigella Damascena (Love-in-a-Mist) flower, shown below, has popped up directly in a pathway, but what a lovely flower to have to stop and carefully step around.

Geum canadense (White Avens), shown below, is another plant that has wandered a bit about the garden. My original plant was purchased at the Lady Bird Johnson’s Wildflower Center’s spring plant sale many years ago. It now pops up here and there, never a nuisance, always beckoning me to stop and take a closer look at its tiny blossoms. I have not seen Geum canadense available at garden centers, though it may come up from time to time at nurseries that specialize in Texas natives.

We may not live in a garden utopia, but embracing native plants, as well as older heirloom plants, may just be the way to beat Mother Nature at her game. These are the plants that don’t just survive our extreme weather, but thrive and come back year after year. Calyptocarpus vialis (Horseherb), shown below, is another favorite of mine, as it will grow in both sun and shade and attracts smaller butterflies and pollinators.

“May is the month of expectation, the month of wishes, the month of hope,” Emily Bronte

This May, Keep calm and garden on and don’t forget to make a wish for perfect gardening weather this summer!

All photographs taken today, May 1st, 2024, in my Southern Denton County, Texas, garden.

gardening

Ten thousand plants, more or less…

suzielinn

“Real gardeners buy at least ten thousand plants in the course of a lifetime without having the least idea where they will put any of them when they get home.” ~ Unknown

While I have no source for that quote nor research to back it up, I truly feel as if someone has been watching me…

In the horticulture world, there are two types of people. Those that have an eye for landscape design, who plan out new garden beds and carefully calculate how many plants will fit in a given area to have the desired effect. Then there are the gardeners, the ones that plant whatever strikes their fancy, the ones that push the limits, the ones that never colored inside the lines as a kid. I am that gardener.

If I had to make an educated guess about my own plant buying habits, I would say that 93% of my purchases fall in to the category of “I have no idea where I will ever plant this!” I have been known to walk around the garden, searching for a small space to squeeze in one more plant. I have also been known to dig a hole, tuck in a new plant, stand back to admire its new home, then promptly pull up the plant to try again somewhere else. I have even been known to plant something, then decide a week or a month later that I want to plant it somewhere else. A garden is, after all, always a work in progress, eternally evolving. I firmly believe that we should always remain flexible and open to the possibilities. Sometimes things works out. Sometimes they don’t. This happens to be one of those times that things worked out.

Oh, how it worked out!

I love tall bearded irises, though am not a collector, nor even an aficionado. I love them. I plant them. That is about it. Most of my irises are pastel colors, holdovers from my days of collecting pastel antique roses. Then there is this iris. Stunningly dark and bold.

Last spring, I was placing an order with Bluestone Perennials and made the impulse decision to add Clematis Venosa Violacea to my order. See above quote about gardeners buying plants, not knowing where they will plant them. This was one of the few times I knew somewhat where I would actually plant the item.

The irises were past blooming when my order arrived, so which color was where was not front and center in my brain. I planted the clematis on one of the triangular gazebo pieces that needed a little somethingsomething to liven it up.

And liven it up, it did.

The color combination is stunning. The bloom time spot on. It was as if… Maybe I actually planned it? I would love to take credit, but it is really just a very happy coincidence.

And. Yes. I am making a note to plant more clematis, as I am sure I have a few more vertical spaces that need some livening up.

All photographs taken on April 14, 2024, in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden.

bibliophile, gardening, vintage

There’s One In Every Crowd

suzielinn

With apologies to Montgomery Gentry…

If every bar has that one big mouth yelling, “Play some Freebird,” then every town has that one gardener that brings the party in us out… the one that makes everybody else look sane… out as far as you can get…

Garden author Felder Rushing would call them us Maverick Gardeners. Otherwise known as Determined Independent Gardeners. “(They) are not rebellious,” he writes, “they are merely other motivated.” It’s as if Felder took a gander at my garden and handed me a Maverick Gardener membership card, while Montgomery nodded in agreement. “Yup, she makes everybody else look sane.”

“There is no such thing as a weird human being. It’s just that some people require more understanding than others.” ~ Tom Robbins

The orange ranunculus shown above is the inspiration for today’s garden ramble, as it exemplifies “that one in every crowd,” as it was the only brightly colored flower to bloom among the pink dianthus earlier this spring.

Overplanted and over-accessorized are two boxes to be checked in order to belong to the Maverick Gardener club, both of which I surpassed a few plants and several rusty buckets ago. If something will hold potting soil or support a vining plant, the item may well find itself right at home in my melodious garden. Discarded? Past its prime? Seen better days? Even better!

Above, part of an old gazebo has been put to use as a trellis for clematis. All together, the gazebo has six rectangular pieces and four triangular pieces, all scattered about my garden. Step through the garden gate and you will see the piece above, plus two more of the triangular pieces. They rest against the house, trellises for clematis and – soon to be – passion vine. The fourth triangular section (shown below) is straight ahead, against the back fence, a trellis for annual vegetables. If good fences make good neighbors, colorful fences make a fantastic accent piece!

Old buckets are perfect for containing aggressive spreaders, such as mint. Below, variegated pineapple mint grows in an old minnow bucket.

Funnels are equally fun to plant up! Bonus, they have built in drainage!

Old light fixtures are also fun garden pieces!

The counterpart to “If it holds dirt, it’s a container,” is the “If it’s flat, it can be a plant stand!” This old metal spool makes the perfect table for a rusty bucket of mint. The spool also doubles as a hose guide, to keep the garden hoses from dragging across the flower bed. Mints can take heavy water logged soils, so no need to drill a hole in the container. In times of heavy rainfall, I simply tilt the containers of mint on their side for a few days to drain off any excess water.

One rule of over accessorizing the garden: If you don’t know what to do with it, just hang it on a fence!

A full book review of Maverick Gardeners may someday be written. In the meantime. Keep Calm and Garden On. In your own quirky way!

All photographs taken in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden.

gardening, nature

Earth Day 2024

suzielinn

“Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.” E. B. White

What better day than Earth Day to be on the lookout for the presence of wonder!

The delicate colorations on the underside of an onion chive blossom.

“We cannot protect something we do not love, we cannot love what we do not know, and we cannot know what we do not see. Or hear. Or sense.” ~ Richard Louv, The Nature Principle

The tissue thin petals of a poppy.

“I do not know if it is possible to love the planet or not, but I do know that it is possible to love the places we can see, touch, smell and experience.” David Orr, Earth in Mind

The purple veins on the hyacinth bean’s leaves.

“If you truly love nature, you will find beauty everywhere.” Vincent Van Gogh

The snow white of a daffodil, blooming so late in the season.

“To walk in nature is to witness a thousand miracles.” ~ Unknown

The cream colored accents on an amaryllis flower, as if a painter ran their brush across the red.

The contrast between today’s coreopsis blossom and tomorrow’s promise, the still tightly closed bud.

Nature is filled with so many tiny details if only we stopped long enough to take them in. This Earth Day, take time to step outside and take in the natural wonders that surround us.

All photographs taken April 22, 2024, in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden.