Sweetness

Beautiful June day today, sunny and in the low 80s.

A perfect day for a tour of 5 wonderful Collinsville, CT gardens with some good gardening friends. A little antiques shopping and a great deli lunch too!

The upper white garden at Riverbend - photo by Judy Butler

My beautiful strawberries, which are coming in bounteously every day now, have no taste. Last year they were intensely sweet with a little tang.

This year they are just as pretty, firm, and juicy, but the taste is watery and bland. Consensus of the gardening group today is that they need more warmth than this cold spring has provided.

Nights have been consistently chilly, and there have only been a few really warm days. Do strawberries need some hot weather or warmer nights to sweeten up?

Here's something good in my garden: for the first time in years the Aruncus dioicus (goatsbeard) looks great. It's at the back of the Birch Garden, under the Orange Dream Japanese maple, and it is big and leafy and sporting big white plumes.

This goatsbeard (great name) was moved multiple times, looking for a spot that it could tolerate without throwing a hissy fit. Every year it shriveled, refused to grow and looked awful. A year ago I moved it here and finally it is happy.

We saw several nice Aruncus plants today on the garden tours, but mine is just as nice now. That's sweet.

On the garden tour we saw places with way too much grass and places that had absolutely no lawn, only sitting areas surrounded by plants and stonework. My garden has both grass and garden, but it's a fine balance between having too much lawn and none.

But in certain lights early in the day or late in the afternoon, the interplay between flat open lawn and garden is absolutely right, completely in balance.

In fact, it's the light at either end of a June day that has all the intensity and sweetness my strawberries lack this year. I can almost taste the light.

Breakfast

We got a quarter inch of light rain yesterday, enough to wet things well, but we could use a soaking. Today the sun is out, it's refreshing, and guess what's for breakfast ----

Strawberries! More than I can eat in one sitting.

It's a good thing there are so many, because I found about half a dozen nibbled on the vine. But that still leaves me with plenty so I won't argue with whoever is raiding my strawberry patch.

No Coffee

There was no coffee this morning. I got up, went through the usual morning rituals and opened the cupboard to get the ground coffee out to fill the drip machine. Gasp. The cupboard WAS BARE.

How does this happen? Who controls the inventory here?

There was no coffee to be had. Jim doesn't drink Starbucks, we both dislike Dunkin Donuts, and there is no bistro type coffee shop in town that we could go to in our jammies at 7 in the morning.

I went outside and cried.

But look.

The red peony still shimmers. I planted a bubblegum pink lupine in the empty spot at the center of the Birch Garden and it welcomed me brightly.

The strawberries are starting to come in, there were about four or five little red jewels, some half eaten by an as yet undiscovered critter, but most are full and plump and waiting for me.

White clover has started to pop up in the lawn.

The groundcover Weihenstephaner Gold sedums are putting up rich golden yellow flowers now.

The Birch Garden is lovely with purple columbines and catmint and pretty forms and colors.

If I walk around to the other side of the house, empty handed because I have no coffee cup, I see pretty white dwarf deutzia and giant dappled willows looking like they are blooming all white and frothy, but it's just their amazing spring foliage.

It's all good, but without coffee the morning was off.  Jim went to the store and bought more. The day got quite hot and humid, and storms are approaching this evening. It feels very summery.

Tomorrow, with coffee ready to brew, will be a better day. My garden disagrees, and says today was perfect just as it was.

Poppies and Peonies

There are poppies.

California poppies in a pot on the deck. Paper thin, translucent, pale yellow.

They are in my pot garden, a collection of flowers, herbs and vegetables in containers on the deck.

And there are peonies.

'Blaze', a shimmering red peony that reflects and radiates light.

It's at the side of the Birch Garden, with deep purple 'May Night' salvia and white 'Immortality' irises.

Poppies and peonies turn the calendar from May to June.

As we turn the corner into June, the clear blue forget me nots are beginning to fade and the rich purple ajuga is too. But both are still colorful and pretty.

As they go by, others take over and open their blooms. Besides the poppies and peonies, there are clematis flowers, at least the big white stars of 'Henryi' along the front walk at this point. It's the first of the clematis vines I have to open.

And dwarf deutzia 'Nikko' is beautiful. I have planted it everywhere since it is such a great ground cover plant for me. It's easy to propagate, covers ground and completely shades out weeds, mounds in a nice arching form, has pretty flowers, neutral summer color and deep mahogany fall leaves. I like this plant.

There is more red. Dianthus has spread around among a gold leaved caryopteris and purple columbines. It's kind of small and shy, but calls attention with its bright red color.

More red -- it isn't very showy yet, but the buckeye, Aesculus pavia, has firecracker red candles. It's such a small tree, skinny and little, but it has three or four deep red flowers and promises more as it grows. Chives in a pot below the buckeye are blooming.

It's not all fire reds and pure whites punctuated with deep purple, though. There is pink too.

The dwarf weigela 'My Monet' continues to bloom and bloom in a way it never did when it was on the other side of the house. I'd only get a few of the vivid pink flowers, and grew this for its variegated foliage. This year it has bloomed profusely.

It's still an odd shape, from having been crowded where it was before, but it will fill out. Best thing I did for this little plant was move it out into the open.

June has opened with a spectacular sunny day, full of poppies, peonies and other pretties everywhere!

My Noisy Oasis

Since Memorial Day we have had a hot humid day in the 80s, a cold overcast gloomy day well below 60 degrees, and some pleasant sparkling sun. How's that for changeable weather?

This morning is pleasant and I like nothing better than a cup of coffee in the early morning in my garden. It's cool, the sun is warm and everything looks so nice.

But the noise!

We live in a suburban development of 60+ homes. There are lawns. They need to be mowed. The landscapers come with their giant machines and they roar.  The weedwhackers and blowers have a high whine that drones.

I truly cannot sit out in the garden while this goes on.

(This is not passing any judgement on lawns . . . a fraught topic . . . Jim mows our lawn and that makes noise too, although nothing like the roar of the commercial behemoths.)

Add to the lawnmower noise the busy road behind us, with school buses, garbage trucks, cars on the way to work, landscaping trailers, delivery trucks.

It's a narrow country road, twisty and hilly, but it carries a lot of neighborhood traffic and a lot of through traffic going to other neighborhoods. I had no idea when we moved in it would be so busy.

My reforestation plan to screen the back of our property with trees has worked really well, and now, going on 10 years later, when the leaves are out I can't see the road. But I hear it.

I really love the green, enclosed oasis of my garden. Although we are in a neighborhood, our house is situated so we don't have houses directly to either side, and with the trees becoming forest behind us, we have no houses in back.

But the noise!

A few updates:
> no strawberries yet. Last year at this time I was bringing in bowls of them. This cold spring they are late. There are lots of white berries ripening, none ready yet.

> the red peony has opened, the white Henryi clematis has a big bloom (and puckered leaves, not good), and the morning glory vine has a couple flowers although it is still small. The flowers are pink! Pink morning glories --- I wanted clear blue, but oh well.

> the new styrax looks terrible. Limp leaves, bare branches. I am despairing.

> in contrast with the styrax, the Forest Pansy redbud looks okay after my initial despair. It leafed out and there is some branch dieback but nothing too bad.

> planted mixed jewel color nasturtium seeds in some empty spots around the garden on Memorial Day. Not sure the ones I planted around the gravel garden are going to play well with pink morning glories.

> the lettuce in the herb bowl is not doing much. It's a cool weather crop, but doesn't seem to like so much cold. It's fine, just not bulking up at all. One plant keeled over, roots in the air, but the rest of the lettuce is just sitting there not growing much.

> amsonias are blooming, and the flowering dwarf deautzias are the prettiest ever.

> and the Kintzley's Ghost honeysuckle is blooming. What an interesting one this is. Later the round bracts will turn silver. A little focus trouble, but these blooms were down at the bottom, on the ground and hard to see, much less photograph.

> the Orange Dream Japanese maple has never stayed this bright orange this far into the season. The color has stayed intense with the cold nights all spring.

So much is happening, this is only a partial update of things I observe as I cruise the garden in the morning, coffee cup in hand, cursing the noise all around me.

Equipoise

It's overcast and humid today, Memorial Day, but the weekend was that rare moment of balance when everything is just right. The air was dry and cool and 72 degrees.

The meadow has greened up but is not yet a jungle of goldenrod and ragweed.

The lawn is green velvet, not burned out yet, not yet overrun with clover.

Plants are still small and perfect, just opening, just blooming. Doublefile viburnum 'Shasta' is graceful and perfectly formed.

The Birch Garden has frilly hyacinths in front, tall white aronia blooming in the center, and white irises. Everything is still small and tidy.

The itea in the middle layer is starting to leaf out. I was worried about it.

Columbines stand up tall and sturdy.

The dappled willows are right at their blowzy fullest and the white and pink tinged leaves are their most colorful, making them almost look like they are blooming.

Globe alliums stand sentry among the still small hydrangeas in the driveway garden.

Weigela My Monet is blooming and looks better than before. I moved it from its crowded spot in Northern Exposure, and it is still a little misshapen from years of shading in that space. But now it has some sun and an open spot and it looks better.

The redtwig dogwoods by the creek bed are blooming profusely, but the wild shrubs have not yet encroached on everything. The redtwigs by the front steps are also blooming heavily.

It's all in such perfect equipoise right now -- the size of the newly emerging plants, the tininess of leaves and flowers, the balance of sun and air and humidity, the intensity of colors.

Nothing has yet overgrown or run wild or encroached on anything else, and in fact I'm still waiting for some things to show up or leaf out. The long cold spring has kept everything in check.

For now.

Quonochontaug

aerial view

We stayed in Weekapaug at the head of Quonochontaug pond, just  a few miles past Misquamicut beach.

We drove down, passing through the town of Pawcatuck to get to Wawaloam Road on our way to find the inn.

I ate tautog (blackfish) and we watched men in chest high waders clamming for quahogs.

Place names and foods all up and down the Rhode Island coast are constant reminders of the Niantic Indians whose lands these were.

Now it's inns and beaches and restaurants, clam shacks and boat slips and the tasteful shingled summer homes of people who live somewhere else. We stayed at the old Weekapaug Inn, newly restored after 70 years.

We had the beach to ourselves. It was late May at the shore in Rhode Island, so of course it was cold and wet. It always is.

Beach plums were in abundant bloom all over. It is amazing what grows in pure sand. Storm Sandy picked up most of the sand on the ocean side and washed it into the salt ponds behind the beach in 2012. The grasses and beach roses and plums and poison ivy simply moved over and started growing where the sand got deposited.

The walk to the beach disorients --the sky and the sea are indistinguishable. Borders dissolve, the horizon wobbles. The air is fresh. There is always a salt tang to ocean air in New England that no other beach in the world has. Not Maui, not any Pacific beach, not Florida. Nothing smells as salty and sharp anywhere else.

We had a truly warm and lovely stay despite the brooding skies and cold damp.

Quonochontaug -- it's easier to say than it looks, even with a mouthful of fried quahogs and Narragansett beer.

Can't Shake the Unease

Sourwood just leafing out -- seems slow this year

Beautiful days lately, in the 60s or low 70s and pleasant, wonderful days for just sitting on the patio or in the gravel garden. It's still very cold at night, in the 40s.

I can't shake a funny feeling of unease as I wander around the garden. It's late May and I know the cold spring has delayed many plants. Others have bloomed or leafed out right on schedule and there is a lot of spring beauty going on.

But some things are more sensitive to the conditions and are slow to get going. And some just don't look good this spring.

I keep thinking "wait, be patient, we're a week or two behind". But as Memorial Day weekend approaches, I am feeling unsettled about waiting much longer.

In addition to what I already mentioned that died or struggled this winter, I know I lost the dwarf abelias (Fairy Dance) at the top of the stone wall. Abelias leaf out late, so I have been patiently watching, but there is nothing at all.

The Albury Purple St. Johnswort has been such a great plant for me along the west walk, but I can only find one or two leaves at the base this year. St. Johnswort can be a short lived plant. I think this one is gone.

I can see a little bit of red unfurling on the Forest Pansy redbud that I feared was lost. But it is skimpy and only on a couple branches, and by late May the tree should be full of tiny red heart shaped leaves opening up all over.

I know the smokebush will take off soon, but in late May, after being coppiced this winter, it is slowly putting out just a few stubby red leaves at a time. Last year I coppiced it as well, and it was really leafy and brightly colored by this time, and growing fast.

Dogwoods all over town look gorgeous right now, and our pink one looked bright and lovely until today, when it turned muddy. It's the effect of the emerging green leaves now hiding some of the flowers, and the blooms are fading.

The iteas, as I mentioned earlier this week, are bare stemmed with dead branches in a lot of places, and have just tiny leaves opening now. They have looked better in other years but I am waiting for them to fill in and see if they will be all right.

The bayberry (Myrica) in Meadow's Edge is always a pile of sticks until Memorial Day, and no different this spring. The doublefile viburnum in front of it is starting to bloom beautifully -- that's always going to be an unfortunate pairing, though, with the pretty white blooms on the viburnum and the bare twiggy plant behind it.  I blame the garden designer for that.

The persicaria affinis (fleeceflower) still looks awfully brown and ratty, and I am waiting for it to green up. I think it will -- it took a while last year too. There will be a few brown spots that I can dig out when it does fill in, but it seems like it takes forever to start looking ok.

Orange milkweed (Butterflyweed) is just now poking through the soil, its tiny shoots peeking up as if to say "is it Memorial Day yet? No? Still too soon?"

Most things are okay. Some plants I lost. But this waiting and waiting for things to improve is making me so uneasy.

I'm going to get my coffee now and go sit in the dappled shade on the patio and wait some more.