August Assessments

Boy did it rain last week. A line of thunderstorms brought almost two inches (!) of drenching rain last Thursday evening. It came down in windblown curtains. Noisy waterfalls ebbed and surged, stopped and then started again, pouring down and sounding like trains running over tracks. It was needed.

Summer is racing by. It's time to make assessments of what needs fixing next season. Here's what I think:

I don't need two sweetbay magnolias.
There are two sweetbay magnolias at the north corner of the house. The one in front of the window is taller, flowers more, and is just a statelier shape. The one at the corner is smaller. It was a smaller sapling when planted and was moved twice before it landed here at the corner.

It's too close to the house, it looks funny paired with its larger sibling, and somehow the form of one sweetbay looks nice, while this one looks weedy. It needs to go. I'll take it out.

Clematis Jackmanii 'Superba' has to move. 
It has outgrown its tower. It's eye catching in bloom, but the thing looks densely congested and it looms oddly in the open garden.

It needs to be taken out of this spot. I want to transplant it somewhere else, but I have no structure it could climb to its heart's content. That pillar standing in the middle of nowhere is unnatural looking, although when the little gray dogwood (Cornus racemosa) right next to it gets taller than the tower, maybe it won't loom so. Even so, the clematis is too big here and I'll move it.

The lone bottlebrush buckeye is really, really annoying me.
I can't help it, this just drives me nuts and I keep writing about it in this diary. That mislabeled rogue cultivar does not belong in a row with its species cousins.

I do think I will take it out and let the other Aesculus parviflora shrubs fill in the gap for a coherent and consistent hedge. I just have to for my sanity and nerves.

One of the pair of black gums has a distinctly weeping habit.
There are two in the front yard. The one on the left wants to droop over. I have trimmed the branches repeatedly and the remaining lower branches then arch downward even more. The leader has gone awry.

Several other black gums (Nyssa sylvatica) I have planted have stiffly pyramidal shapes and upright leaders. This one is the only one with such a weeping tendency.

I kept thinking it was immature growth and as it matured it would stiffen up and take on the usual form. It has been growing in this spot since 2010 and was a large specimen when planted. It is not outgrowing the droopiness, and in fact it is getting more noticeable.

It's paired with another black gum for symmetry in the front yard, but the two trees look so different. My assessment is that this one is genetically a weeper, but my solution is to do nothing, as I'm not sure what can be done about it.

A large baptisia needs an intervention.
Baptisias have clean, fresh looking foliage all summer, and are not bothered much by pests or diseases. They are always described as indestructible, easy plants. But the Baptisia 'Twilite Prairieblues' outside the bedroom window has a lot of grayish, browning foliage at the top, and the soil under it is carpeted with dried discarded leaves.

It turns out to have spider mites -- nothing else around it is infected and baptisias in general are not susceptible. Go figure. A miticide spray is needed.

My other false indigo, Baptisia pendula, planted in the Birch Garden, looks fine.

At least the spider mite problem on 'Twilite Prairieblues' is fixable, but the reason it became infested is a mystery.

The 'Orange Dream' Japanese maple is struggling.
I was so pleased it made it through the winter when other small trees did not. I pruned off winter kill, and thought I'd escaped further trouble. But now it's pretty fried at the top, and the heart shaped canopy is forming even more of a gap in the middle.

It always gets this way in summer -- it is in too much sun -- but it looks worse than in other years and the shape is starting to deform.

Extra deep watering and more frequent soaking may help. Of course this tree is at the back of the Birch Garden at the very edge of the yard where no hose can reach it, so frequent deep watering is something I've already decided to just feel guilty about not doing enough.

The Blackhaw Viburnum is half dead.
The rounded green tree next to the wine colored redbud is a Blackhaw (Viburnum prunifolium) that I limbed up rather artfully, and I've been so pleased with how the trunks look opened up. But this summer half the tree in back has died off.

The tightly twisted trunks are actually compressing each other, and the trunk that supports the branches at the back of the tree is flattened and unable to support its canopy. Frost nipped the back branches this spring, and now this summer it's dying back even more. I can wait to see what develops -- maybe it will resprout more fully next year. But in my assessment, this tree is half gone.

I will lop off the compressed trunk, leaving just the single stem to grow. That will remove half of the structure and all of the graceful look of the stems. To even it out on the fuller side, I'll have to take off branches in front too.

If it kills the tree I'll start over and plant something else.

I am no stranger to do-overs and raising baby trees.

Reverse That

The end of June had ample rain, but in July we've gone too long without rain and it has gotten hot, in the 90s. Lawns are browning in places now.

Trees look limp and garden soil is dry. When I pull weeds a puff of dusty powder comes up. The tenacious ones won't be rooted out from their rock hard homes at all.

But the air is full of moisture. Humidity is high. When I am out there in the mornings I am drenched with sweat running down me even as the ground I kneel on is dry and thirsty.

How about we switch that? Some good damp soil would be nice and some dry comfortable air.

And another thing. My delicate pink Knockout rose by the front steps is reverting. There are cherry red blooms in there. Let's reverse that right away, before the whole shrub goes red.

I had red Knockout roses several years ago and could not tolerate their cherry syrup color or the way the ever blooming things were so relentlessly in flower all summer.

This I could not:

I took those red Knockouts out a long time ago.

But the pink variety I do like. The color changes from clear pink to blush white, it has a wonderful scent, and the shrub isn't as densely mobbed with roses all season long the way red ones are. The individual pink Knockout blooms are even a prettier, more whorled shape than the open flat red roses.

I can't do much about humid air and not enough rain, but I can take off the stem that is reverting on my pink rose. I need to clip that down to the base. I'll get the pruners and go out there just as soon as the humidity goes down a bit.

The Contrarian

For late July, it's been pleasant. We've had cool nights in the high 50s! Several days have been sunny and comfortable and dry. Very nice weather for summer.

Late July means the bottlebrush buckeyes (Aesculus parviflora) open their rocket blooms.

The show is amazing, butterflies love the spikes, and the light always catches the bottlebrushes and illuminates them beautifully.

I love the way this hedge looks. It is lush and big enough now to make a definitive boundary between my garden and the meadow beyond.

But every year I go nuts about the one lone bottlebrush shrub that is not like the others. There was a mislabeled plant among the batch of A. parviflora that I got mail order in 2007. It looked like the others as a baby plant, but once they all started growing, it was clear that one was different.

It's that lighter one second from the left -- it won't bloom for another two weeks, it is a different leaf color, and the form is different. The darker green shrub to its left is about to bloom and the others flanking it on the right are already in bloom, but they are all the same species plants and all open up their flowers about the same time. The middle one is very different.

It's still Aesculus parviflora, but it is a named cultivar that is known for its larger size, and two week later bloom period. And apparently the foliage color is not the deep dark green of the species. And it has a droopier habit.

I've written about this before, every year in fact. Because every year it gets more obvious.

Jim likes it. It's the contrarian in him that enjoys the way one lone individual can fight the masses. Politically this hedge pleases him. Horticulturally it drives me batty.

He's willing to help me take the offending shrub out -- we could cut it down and let the species plants on either side continue to sucker and fill in the gap, which might happen quickly now that the hedge is mature. But he thinks we should leave it as is.

I've gone back to photos of my original planting to see if it was obvious when I put this hedge in that one plant was different. But they all looked alike in the beginning.

The circled one is the bad boy. I guess it showed its droopier habit even then, but who could really tell?  They all looked like leafy blobs at that stage.

It would be sort of drastic to take out that big shrub at this point. I'm trying to adopt Jim's untroubled view that it gives the hedge personality, it's a quirky bit of garden mishap, it celebrates diversity, and we should enjoy the contrarian disruption to the uniform line of the hedge.

Can I accept that?

A Nap and a Drink

Sometimes on a nice summer day, you have to just lie down and take a nap.

And sometimes you just get so thirsty out there you need to dip in for a long drink.

And sometimes you need to stand very still and not move, especially if you are supporting someone's livelihood and moving would destroy their work.

It's a warm July day. Let's all go lie down now on a cool slab of stone, or maybe on the porch.

Yes, let's.

A Proper Wall

Hot and humid. We've had some cool days and some chilly nights, but more typical July weather has finally arrived I think.

The stonemason who put in our bluestone steppers in the grass around the Blueberry Garden came back last week and built me a wall.

It borders the strip of plantings on the east side of the house which has always been a problem. That side of the house is a flat, wide expanse. No one ever goes around to this part of the yard, and my only intent here was to hide the black waterproofing line that ran along the concrete foundation just above the soil line.

My first attempt was a line of dwarf forsythias that did not work out at all. They came out. My second attempt was a low line of dwarf groundcover willows, Salix yezoalpina, which were striking plants but never flourished and they came out.

Then I tried mixed plantings and finally settled on dwarf deutzia 'Nikko' to hide the waterproofing line, and some taller plants for vertical contrast -- a 'Dawn' viburnum, a Rose of Sharon, some boxwoods for density. It looks better now.

But it never looked finished or even intentional. The plantings bled into the lawn along a raggy edge. All the other foundation plantings around the house are bounded by walkways or the patio, so there's a finished edge to where the house meets the lawn.

This strip of foundation plantings needed a similar defined transition from the long side of the house to the lawn. So when I had extra fieldstones left over from a low wall I built in 2013, I used the extras to edge the strip. But there weren't nearly enough and you can see how paltry that looked below:

I finally decided to do it right, and hired someone to bring in an entire pallet of stones and build me a proper wall. A professional job with an adequate amount of material. What an improvement when it is done right.

It's hardly a wall at all, only a few courses high, just enough to define the edge of this strip along the house.

Now the plants need to do their job to complement this new stone wall. The dwarf deutzias were all rooted cuttings I took from my original plants and they need a year or two to fill in.

I planted a golden Japanese plum yew this spring for some bold foliage color and vertical height, but it is only a funny stick so far, standing among the still small deutzia cuttings.

And the bane of my gardening existence, the wildly out of control 'Dawn' viburnum, has to do something other than flail about looking deranged and spastic. I've pruned it severely and this is what I got.

This viburnum is supposed to be narrow, upright and vase shaped, reaching maybe 10 feet tall. Elegant and vertical. Lovely in all seasons. Does this eruption of exploded shrubbery fit that description in any way?

With a proper stone wall dressing up the scene, the plants in here now need to step up their game.

I See Improvements

Today was a lovely day -- dry and sunny and cool. Perfection.

I was pleased on my tour of the garden this morning to see some improvements in plants that had disappointed me in the past.

Like the 'Bluebird' hydrangea serrata that has never bloomed well. In past years the buds were either frost nipped or deer nibbled, reducing the flowers to one or two hidden deep inside the shrub. What did bloom was pinkish purpley. This year I am seeing pretty lace caps of clear blue.

There still aren't very many, and they are peeking out from under leaves, but it's a big improvement. Some day I hope my plant will bloom like the 'Bluebird' hydrangea we saw at Chanticleer two years ago, with flowers above the leaves, carpeting the whole shrub in deepest blue.

The 'Henryi' clematis that got clematis wilt last year has come back. That's an improvement. It has climbed the little metal structure and there are several big white blooms at the top. It is nowhere near as full and robust as it should be by now, and there are only just those few flowers, but it did come back.

Like the 'Bluebird' hydrangea, this plant should be carpeted in flowers and perhaps it will be some day. In its year of recovery from wilt, though, it looks promising.

Crocosmia 'Lucifer' has disappointed me for years. It has a hard time surviving winters, and no matter how many corms I plant, only a few come back. But I was pleased to see what did show up this year. Two clumps came in and they look nice next to the lamp post.

The shocking red is so intense that it actually looks better with only these few stalks arching next to the white post rather than the big stand I had intended.

I was surprised to see that the 'Becky' Shasta daisies were still so fresh looking. They are never a disappointment, but they do start to brown in mid July and don't rebloom reliably as they are advertised to do. They only look good for one show, but happily the show is still going on this year.

Garden phlox 'Nicky' is mildew free. That's an improvement over some years. The color, though, is a shade of magenta that does not rest easy on my eyes. I try to like it but I can't. But it brightens the middle of the Birch Garden in summer.

Every year I lose daylily flowers to the deer. The buds form and the deer eat them. This year is a big improvement with all the different colored daylilies open now and blooming in several spots around the garden. The deer left them alone this summer!

In addition there are reliable standbys that never fail -- sweet pink roses are still opening, and the perfumed white nicotiana is still in flower. A starry yellow dahlia with red stripes is happy looking.

As of mid July we've had hot days and humidity but no lasting heat wave. There has been enough rain, although we could use a little more soon. Plants that have struggled for me in other years look better now, and the garden looks great.

So far summer has been gentle.

Snacks

We were away for five days. Before we left I had been bringing in big bowls of blueberries every day, but I took the netting off while we were gone to let the birds have their share.

When we got back there was not a berry left on any of the four shrubs. We obviously had some happy birds while we were gone. I also saw the chipmunk sitting on the tree stump that is near the blueberries -- he probably had something to do with stripping the bushes.

I had harbored some fears that the black bear would discover the blueberries, but there was no evidence of a big berry eater anywhere, so I think it was just a bonanza for the birds and some good snacking for the chipmunk.

I'm glad they enjoyed them when we couldn't.

Sweet Birch

Typical July -- we swing between hot sticky weather and cool damp conditions, with a pelting three minute rainstorm in between.

Two weeks ago I noticed a that the skinny sweet birch sapling in the meadow looked wilted all over. We've had plenty of rain, but I watered it and waited.

A week later it looked even wiltier and most leaves had browned.

I have had trouble for many years getting Betula lenta to grow. All the original saplings I planted in the beginning are gone, mostly due to poor siting and my lack of any horticultural knowledge at first.

I tried again with three new saplings in 2013. One died the first year, and of the two surviving, this one out in the open meadow is now looking bad.

I thought it might have verticillium wilt, a fungus that infects the sapwood and prevents water transport in the trunk. Leaves show marked droopiness, then brown, and then the tree dies.

It's common in many hardwood trees. Diagnosis is confirmed when you cut open the trunk and see telltale brown rings.

The trunk of my little sweet birch is only the width of a pencil, and the branches are even smaller. I didn't want to sacrifice the whole sapling by cutting open the stem, so I just snipped off a couple thin twigs to see if any brown rings were evident.

It was hard to tell on such small branches, but they looked clear. There was no evidence inside the slender twigs of any discoloration.

The problem may not show up in the side branches, though -- it may be limited to the trunk, but if the trunk can't carry water the upper branches die. You can cut a scar on the side of the trunk to see any damage without having to saw it in half, but there just isn't enough size to this thing to slice open the side of the trunk to see anything.

So should I cut down the sapling? Verticillium wilt is fatal. The fungus persists for a long time in the soil, so you can't replant the area with any other tree that is susceptible; the new planting will soon be infected.

My tree isn't completely dead yet, so I'll wait. But if I have to take it down, it will be an easy bit of work. One snip with the pruners will do it, and I can then see if verticillium wilt is showing in the trunk.

I guess I'm done trying to grow Betula lenta. One lone twiggy sapling survives, but my track record getting sweet birch saplings to grow is poor.

I really liked it as an addition in the woods-becoming-forest behind our house. It's native, it has a nice form and rich yellow fall color. The bark is shiny and interesting, and when scratched it smells and tastes of wintergreen.  How I wish I could grow a sweet birch here.

Garden Gate

Humid and gray today, but not hot.

I have a small gated arbor that forms the entrance to the gravel seating area. I like the way it is starting to look now.

In spring of 2013 I planted a hardy kiwi vine on one side. It is Actinidia kolomikta, which is grown for its pink tipped foliage, not for kiwi fruits.

The male vine is supposed to have the strongest splashes of color on the leaves, but it takes several years before it shows up. This plant is growing well in its third year here, but hasn't shown variegation yet.

Several years ago I had both a male and a female hardy kiwi and they did have some splashes of white and pink. Here were my original plants, just starting to show some paint splashes on some leaves.

The female plant also had fruits -- little tiny grape sized kiwis that looked like gooseberries. Sweet and yummy, but not really like the brown fuzzy skinned kiwis we know.

I took the original kiwis out, because I just did not have a good sunny spot for them where they could climb. Now, the new kiwi vine has an arch to climb up and it seems happy at the entrance to the gravel area. It will get to about 15 or 20 feet, and grows vigorously, but it can take hard pruning, which of course I will need to do to keep it from swamping the small arbor structure.

As you walk through the gate you step on fragrant thyme. It is Thymus serpyllum 'Albus'. It has tiny white flowers that bloom forever. Thyme hasn't done well for me. It browns out in our humid summers and looks patchy, but right now it seems to like being near gravel and stone steps and a rock wall.

The pink leaved dwarf weigela next to the gate is looking pretty good too. It is 'My Monet', with very strongly variegated pink, cream, and green leaves. I did not actually plan to have this pink tipped shrub next to a gate covered by pink tipped kiwi foliage, but there it is.

Once the kiwi starts to color up in a few years it might be a nice repetition to have two pink variegated plants paired up. The things I don't even think of turn out to be the best combinations in my garden sometimes.

The little weigela brightens up the dark smokebush at the top of the stone wall.

In earliest spring the gate is flanked by a star magnolia.

And in fall fragrant aster, 'Raydon's Favorite', takes over the job of welcoming you into the gravel garden.

At Christmas the gate doors are closed, the seating area furniture is put away, and the arch becomes the perfect place for a wreath.

The metal arbor structure is inexpensive and not very sturdy.

It is powder coated aluminum, so lightweight that a small animal could push the whole thing over. The gate doors are out of kilter and latch awkwardly. I got it on Amazon, assembled it myself, and the legs are simply pushed into the dirt to stand it up.

I'm not sure it will hold up to a big woody kiwi vine climbing over it, or whether it will even last another season or two before the legs give out or frost heaves pitch it askew.

The area around the entrance is finally coming together with pleasing plant combinations and a nice welcoming look. I really wish I had invested in a strongly built, permanently anchored arbor. Is it too late to replace it with something sturdier, now that the kiwi vine is draped over it?