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Archive for the Janet’s Journal tag

Janet’s Journal: The Value of a Garden

May 17, 2018   •   1 Comment

This “rain garden” full of wetland plants was installed to catch run-off water and let it be filtered by soil and roots rather than sluiced directly into the storm drains with its full load of road-collected pollutants.
This “rain garden” full of wetland plants was installed to catch run-off water and let it be filtered by soil and roots rather than sluiced directly into the storm drains with its full load of road-collected pollutants.

Standing in my garden where she’d come to see a plant and size it up for inclusion in her own collection, my client spread her arms to encompass the whole yard and said, “Let’s have it all. What would it cost to do all this at my place?”

Given the size and basic composition of a garden—mostly perennials, perennials and annuals, shrubs and perennials, etc.—I can answer with a dollar figure. Yet I hate to, as it puts such a definitive edge on a garden. With a price tag neatly tied to one corner, a garden seems comparable to any other item that can be bought and sold.

Call me a gardening addict, all mixed up by too long an association with landscape architect Thomas Church’s proclamation, “The only limits to a garden are at the edges of your imagination.” For I think putting a dollar figure on a garden is too simplistic, that the other strings attached are more important and make it a far more complex consideration.

For my client, under the impression that a checkbook could transplant my garden to her property, I would say, “It’s not just the money, it could change your life, and your family, fundamentally, in many ways we should talk about.”

What is it worth toward family harmony that there is an outdoor room where people made memories together?
What is it worth toward family harmony that there is an outdoor room where people made memories together?

Diversity is a great mental stimulator, and attraction to life in general. The more species diversity there is in a landscape, the more interesting will be the life forms that gather there. A garden has far more diversity than basic lawn and shrubs, so it can support butterflies and their predators as well, like the praying mantis shown here.
Diversity is a great mental stimulator, and attraction to life in general. The more species diversity there is in a landscape, the more interesting will be the life forms that gather there. A garden has far more diversity than basic lawn and shrubs, so it can support butterflies and their predators as well, like the praying mantis shown here.

How much value can be assigned to the health of the gardener, who is drawn to go outside and putter. It’s been estimated that gardening and jogging burn an equivalent amount of calories, but gardening uses more muscle groups and imparts less forceful impact on the knees!
How much value can be assigned to the health of the gardener, who is drawn to go outside and putter. It’s been estimated that gardening and jogging burn an equivalent amount of calories, but gardening uses more muscle groups and imparts less forceful impact on the knees!

Shouldn’t the garden get credit when a child steps into an exciting, influential career in life sciences?
Shouldn’t the garden get credit when a child steps into an exciting, influential career in life sciences?

Hidden value to the person and the family

What is it worth, after all, that families stay together through shared memories because they have an outdoor room to enjoy and recall as stage and backdrop for important events?

Health is priceless, but poor health’s costs are harshly defined in drugstore and doctor bills. Should we begrudge the money spent on a garden whose upkeep brings us physical well being? It gives us better muscle tone through bending and stretching, strengthens our respiratory and circulatory systems by providing regular opportunities to rake and wheelbarrow, and when we’re ill, helps us recover more quickly. (Studies in hospitals have linked shorter stays and lower use of pain-killers to the view from a patient’s room—those in rooms with a view to greenery left sooner, having taken less medication, than those with windows looking out onto other buildings or hardscapes.) Should we simply use our gardening money for a health club membership instead? Or invest it wisely since eventual health care costs will be exponentially greater?

What about the value of stress relief, mental health and imagination? Just looking at greenery has been proven to slow the heart rate and increase the alpha brain waves associated with relaxation, creative thinking and problem solving. Being in direct physical contact with plants is even more powerful, as any mental health care practitioner will tell you who uses horticulture as therapy for patients.

Let’s add something for that one child who lives in or visits that garden and takes an important mental leap after a gardener explains something like the fact that a seedling plant may not be just like its parent. When that first peek into the field is the child’s stepping stone to a career as a top level genetic researcher, why not credit his or her lifetime salary and awards to our garden’s output?

Connectivity and resources for the community

Influence is worth something, and gardens are notably influential in a neighborhood. Eventually most gardeners see it, how their use of flowers or attention to lawn and shrubs catches on in nearby properties. Even in the most dilapidated neighborhood, it’s the home with the neat yard that garners respect and gradually raises the standards for everyone. The existence of a garden is both incentive and deterrent—studies in urban Los Angeles indicate that graffiti and other building defacement happens less where there are diverse, tended plantings.

Communication is more lively and there’s more camaraderie in neighborhoods where people are seen in the yard and lean on the fence to exchange news. The gardener who is outdoors regularly is likely to be an essential link in passing the word during emergencies small and large, from lost dogs to missing children. That person is more likely to notice and sound an alarm when things look wrong. Little things like a nod and a greeting, more important ones like acknowledging big changes in one’s life from the birth of children to loss of loved ones—these are the vital links that bind us, activities more likely to involve gardeners than people shuttered with their home entertainment systems.

To save time and money you can change front yard gardens (above) back into sod (below) but what will you lose in mental stimulation, wildlife habitat and eye-relief by reducing the species diversity?
To save time and money you can change front yard gardens (above) back into sod (below) but what will you lose in mental stimulation, wildlife habitat and eye-relief by reducing the species diversity?

gardens-without-plant-diversity-lack-stimulation-0518

Cleaner environment

Gardeners tend to reach out and spread the green. Every year, garden clubs, Master Gardeners, volunteer foresters and informal teams in southeast Michigan are responsible for hundreds of new trees and acres of colorful displays, planted free or at a very low cost. These plantings open minds at libraries, heighten the image at civic centers, increase enjoyment and learning at zoos, parks and museums, and help ease the pain at hospitals and convalescent centers.

Where diverse plantings are, there are more birds. Proven by federal studies to be highly effective weed-seed eaters and bug catchers, they’re also heart-lifting singers of song who just can’t survive on grass alone.

Cleaner air is one of the benefits we all reap from gardens. The gas-scrubbing powers of green growing things has been proven many times over, but the garden’s effect on air quality goes beyond that. Every square foot of garden is one foot that might be tended without the use of power mowers and string trimmers, machines that are dirtier than cars in terms of emissions—and noisy to boot.

Gardens purify water, too. At a conservative estimate, every 100 square feet of garden in Michigan can absorb and filter 720 gallons of water per year that would have run rapidly off of hardpan sod or paved surfaces. As run-off, that water would have sluiced away into storm drains loaded with pollutants such as oil drips from vehicles and animal feces. As we’ve learned through increasingly common notices of beach closings, what goes into storm drains often flows directly into streams and lakes, and sometimes finds its way back into the drinking water supply. Absorbed into the loose, receptive soil in a garden, that water will not run but fall gently through a cleansing filter of soil particles and roots to have all or most of its pollutants stripped away before it returns to groundwater, wells, streams or lakes.

Every day in one way or another, a garden increases in value.

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

Filed Under: Janet’s Journal Tagged With: exercise, health, Janet Macunovich, Janet’s Journal, price, value of a garden

Janet’s Journal: An Introduction to Green Roofs

April 29, 2018   •   Leave a Comment

Left, Liatris, butterfly weed and 148 other drought- and heat-tolerant species cover 20,000 square feet atop Chicago City Hall. Green roofs fight smog by cooling the buildings under them and the city as a whole.
Left, Liatris, butterfly weed and 148 other drought- and heat-tolerant species cover 20,000 square feet atop Chicago City Hall. Green roofs fight smog by cooling the buildings under them and the city as a whole.

Here’s what I’ve learned about green roofs for you and me.

Going green does cut heat, thus reducing smog and its attendant miseries. Tests in Toronto, Chicago, Seattle and other cities prove this cooling effect. Chicago City Hall went green in 2001 while the county building, a mirror image twin next door, still cooks under asphalt. Air temperature, humidity and the intensity of solar radiation are monitored on both roofs, but I was there and did not have to look at a thermometer to know I was 50 to 55 degrees cooler on City Hall. In Evanston, Illinois, the difference between the leaf-topped Optima Building roof and its neighbors’ has been almost 100 degrees on occasion. In Toronto, a billion square feet of roof absorbs and radiates enough heat to keep the city 7 to 18 degrees hotter than the surrounding countryside. Readings from test buildings there have fueled computer models that show there could be 3 degrees of cooling if just 6 percent of the roofs went green.

The conventional asphalt roof on Cook County Building is now in stark contrast to Chicago City Hall, its mirror image twin next door. Temperature, humidity and stormwater runoff figures collected from building pairs like this provide the proof that green roofs can make a big improvement in air quality.
The conventional asphalt roof on Cook County Building is now in stark contrast to Chicago City Hall, its mirror image twin next door. Temperature, humidity and stormwater runoff figures collected from building pairs like this provide the proof that green roofs can make a big improvement in air quality.

Green roofs have direct payoffs, too. The building beneath stays cooler so air conditioning costs drop. The thick top is good insulation, so heating bills may be less. It insulates against sound, too—airport neighbors, take note.

A planted roof lasts longer since the planted layer buffers wind, sun and fast temperature swings. Flat and minimally-pitched roofs, the best candidates for green systems, may last twice as long as conventional caps. In Germany, where green roofs have been in place over thirty years, 14 percent of new buildings in this style are going green. Building owners no longer plan to reroof every 15 years, but expect upper crusts to remain sound for 30 years.

All these numbers are good, but don’t come cheap. A green roof costs $9 to $18 per square foot—excluding soil mix and plants. All told, topping a building this way is a 30 to 60 percent bigger investment than conventional roofing. Just look at the construction details to see why.

More conventional rooftop gardens, like this one designed by the author, are also valuable in reducing air temperatures, purifying the air and improving the view and attitude of the neighbors. In every green roof, 50 percent or more of the water that falls on planted surfaces is taken up by the plants, reducing the strain on overloaded, contamination-troubled storm drains.
More conventional rooftop gardens, like this one designed by the author, are also valuable in reducing air temperatures, purifying the air and improving the view and attitude of the neighbors. In every green roof, 50 percent or more of the water that falls on planted surfaces is taken up by the plants, reducing the strain on overloaded, contamination-troubled storm drains.

In the north Milwaukee suburb of Shorewood, a retail store named The Garden Room is roofed with an intensive planting system, meaning it has deeper planting areas than those with extensive systems. Its 18-inch depth of soil mix can support trees, shrubs and perennials.
In the north Milwaukee suburb of Shorewood, a retail store named The Garden Room is roofed with an intensive planting system, meaning it has deeper planting areas than those with extensive systems. Its 18-inch depth of soil mix can support trees, shrubs and perennials.

A green roof consists of up to ten layers. First, a protective mat goes down on the roof itself—not to protect the roof but to prevent punctures to the second layer, a waterproof membrane. Over the waterproof membrane is another protective mat, then a root barrier, perhaps some insulation, a drainage layer of gravel or waffle-like panels, and a filter pad to keep fine particles of soil out of the drainage layer. Then there’s the planting medium—usually soilless and 3 to 18 inches deep. Last come plants and a woven mulch blanket to keep the planting medium from blowing away until the plants cover it completely.

There are two kinds of green roof. Extensive systems consist solely of shallow rooted plants like sedum. Ford Motor Company’s huge building in the Rouge Complex has an extensive system. An intensive system has deeper planting spaces able to support many kinds of plants, even small trees.

I’d like to walk on and dabble in my own roof plantings, so the roof must be engineered to hold more weight. I once computed the weight of a roof garden I designed, which meant estimating saturated weights of soil mixes, root balls, perennials, trees, mulch, planter boxes and statuary. An engineer from the architectural firm added my garden’s weight to snow load and other factors, and designed for a “dead load” of 250 pounds per square foot. That’s twice what some roofs are designed to hold and it’s all reflected in construction costs.

The Garden Room’s roof is a sales area, where decorative pots, plants, art and furniture can be displayed among more permanent plantings chosen for drought and heat tolerance. Community groups are also encouraged to make use of sitting areas on the roof for meetings.
The Garden Room’s roof is a sales area, where decorative pots, plants, art and furniture can be displayed among more permanent plantings chosen for drought and heat tolerance. Community groups are also encouraged to make use of sitting areas on the roof for meetings.

Yet I still think this idea is worth pursuing. I’ll be proud to do more toward water purity, by living beneath plants that will use half or more of the water that falls on the roof. Every drop they use is that much less water cascading through downspouts and into storm sewers. Less water running that route means fewer pollutants swept into rivers and lakes.

Maintenance details are still elusive. Roof owners and industry promoters I’ve interviewed admit that care is required – weeding out undesirable plants, for instance. Since weed trees sprout even in our gutters, it’s no surprise to hear they’ll grow on a green roof. What no one seems yet willing to describe are the tactical details. Does killing a weed up there mean spraying it with a herbicide—not my bag!—because pulling it would disturb the soil mix? If I pull weeds do I have to keep carting replacement soil mix up to the roof?

There’s plant replacement, too. Even the most drought-tolerant plants above the most clever water-reserving drainage system may fail and need replacing. I’m still seeking figures, which may just mean waiting a year or so. Chicago’s very helpful, education-oriented project began with 150 species and the project managers intend to publish performance evaluations on all of them.

That leaves only the roof repair angle. What if the membrane springs a leak? It’s vulnerable at the same places my old roof is—where chimney and roof meet, for instance. Will calling someone to make repairs be like trying to find someone to fix our solar panel? A solar panel fixer’s as rare as a blue poppy, even though solar technology was supported by government incentives in the 1970s. America’s green roof industry is light years behind Germany’s where 43 percent of cities offer incentives to build them.

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

Filed Under: Janet’s Journal Tagged With: environment, green, green roof, Janet Macunovich, Janet’s Journal, sustainability

Janet’s Journal: Troubled times for the white pine, Michigan’s state tree

April 3, 2018   •   5 Comments

It is important to differentiate between white pine decline, and normal fall color, shown here.
It is important to differentiate between white pine decline, and normal fall color, shown here.

A healthy white pine is full and dark green.
A healthy white pine is full and dark green.

Many people in Michigan have noticed the yellowing and thin appearance of white pines that have stood sentinel and provided shade for decades. Some who didn’t recognize those earlier symptoms will see the first sign of this region-wide white pine problem as a dead tree.

What horticultural professionals have noticed in the Midwest, including southern lower Michigan and some areas further north on the mitten, is best described as white pine decline.

Decline is reduced vigor, below-normal functioning and slower growth in a tree when those symptoms can’t be attributed to a specific disease or insect. Trees in decline may fall prey to insect or disease problems because they are weak, but those are additional complications rather than causes of decline.

A tree may decline for many years. If its situation doesn’t improve, it may exhaust its lifetime starch reserves and begin to exhibit dieback—which looks just like it sounds and often ends in death.

I first noticed white pine decline in the mid 1990s. Many white pines yellowed suddenly, alarmingly and at least one 40-year-old tree on a property I garden died. Based on the positions of the most afflicted trees relative to northwest winds and open ground, and a severe winter that had just passed, I attributed the problems to cold-related root damage. Others came to the same conclusion and experience since then seems to support this.

When placed side by side, braches from stressed and unstressed pines exhibit noticeable differences.
When placed side by side, braches from stressed and unstressed pines exhibit noticeable differences.

Advanced dieback has occurred on this white pine tree.
Advanced dieback has occurred on this white pine tree.

Do you remember February, 1996? The white pines do! On the night of February 2-3, temperatures from the Great Plains to New England dropped to lows never seen before or not seen for 40 years. That week, the outbreak of Arctic air set nearly 400 record daily minimums and at least 15 all-time lows in the eastern U.S. Wind chills of -50 and -100 degrees were common.

In southeast Michigan, the mercury plummeted 15 to 20 degrees in just a few hours on a night when there was not even a trace of snow to insulate the soil. Branches and trunks of some plants died, and the frost knifing suddenly and deeply into the unprotected soil killed roots even on hardy, established plants.

This healthy branch shows the normal retention of needles for three years.
This healthy branch shows the normal retention of needles for three years.

By spring, gardeners would be mourning the loss or severe damage of thousands of decades-old Japanese maples, and finding privet hedges, rose of Sharon shrubs and even stalwarts such as old junipers dead or killed to the ground. Plants hurt but not killed would begin the slow process of regenerating roots and limbs only to be socked with drought years, one after another.

Shallow-rooted plants like white pine may have been worst hit. Left with fewer roots than they should have, they were not likely to take up enough water and nutrients to fuel regrowth. They were in trouble even if drought had not begun to compound the loss.

Six years later, my tally sheet of all the white pines I see regularly in my travels and those I tend reads this way: Some of the first-affected died and many are still struggling. Some which did not initially show symptoms developed them during subsequent drought years. Only a few recovered. Very few escaped all damage.

This white pine, next to the spruce on the right, is yellow and thin—signs of decline.
This white pine, next to the spruce on the right, is yellow and thin—signs of decline.

In its bulletin, “Decline of White Pine in Indiana,” Purdue University Cooperative Extension reported, “white pine decline… has been a problem for many landscapes in Indiana. …Declining trees usually look a pale green, or even yellowish, compared to healthy trees. Needles are often shorter than normal; sometimes the tips of needles turn brown. Needles from a previous season often drop prematurely, giving the tree a tufted appearance.

“With loss of needles, the tree has a reduced ability to produce the energy it needs to survive…

“With severe or compounding stress factors, the tree may gradually decline and eventually die. Decline may be gradual or rapid, depending on the number and severity of stress factors.”

University of Missouri Extension made similar reports like this one from August, 1999: “We have received many white pine samples into the Extension Plant Diagnostic Clinic this year… from mature white pines, about 20 to 30 years old that are in a state of decline. …Other Midwestern clinics have also seen (this) and have been unable to explain most cases of decline…”

“We therefore believe… that the problems we are seeing with white pine may be related to environmental factors and site conditions… such as heat, stress, drought, flooding and sudden extremes in temperature and moisture.”

Note that experts don’t lay full blame on the cold but on a combination of causes. Ironically, reliable cold and snowier winters may have worked in some trees’ favor.

Missouri, Indiana, Ohio and the southeasternmost part of Michigan, which have all seen many white pine problems since the 1996 freeze and subsequent droughts, are south of white pine’s native range. Since a species’ native range is delineated at least in part by climate, we know that something about the weather in our area is probably not optimal for white pine. A record-breaking warm-up that came after the 1996 cold snap may be one of the climatological events these trees can’t handle. Two weeks after the freeze, all across the area affected by decline, temperatures jumped into the 70s, 80s and 90s. For the most part, white pines growing where there was the usual reliable snow-cover or where the warmest air didn’t reach, fared better.

What happened to the white pines was outside current experience, on a scale so broad that few had the perspective to be able to recognize it. Now that we look back and know how long a tree has been declining which we just noticed this year, we can wish we knew more earlier, but it won’t get us anywhere.

So if you have a troubled white pine, have it inspected by an arborist. Rule out disease and insect problems. Give it the help it needs to fight any secondary problems. Do what you can to alleviate underlying stresses.

Establish a regular watering routine and fertilize the tree in early spring to see if it responds. Aerate the soil if it’s compacted. Be pleased if the tree reacts positively, but be realistic about its chances and your needs. Many of these trees are years past their point of no return. Even those which respond positively to treatment may take many years to recover.

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

Filed Under: Janet’s Journal Tagged With: decline, Janet Macunovich, Janet’s Journal, Michigan, Southeast, White Pine

Janet’s Journal: Fertilizing Tips

May 16, 2017   •   1 Comment

Simple suggestions for wiser fertilizer use

Exotic species such as rhododendron and azalea that wouldn’t normally be found growing in Michigan’s alkaline soils need special fertilization every week or two from early May until late July. Use a water-soluble fertilizer that includes micronutrients. Products range from seaweed solutions to acid-loving plant powders that dissolve in water. Spray the solution onto the plant’s foliage, so some nutrients can be absorbed directly into the leaves.
Exotic species such as rhododendron and azalea that wouldn’t normally be found growing in Michigan’s alkaline soils need special fertilization every week or two from early May until late July. Use a water-soluble fertilizer that includes micronutrients. Products range from seaweed solutions to acid-loving plant powders that dissolve in water. Spray the solution onto the plant’s foliage, so some nutrients can be absorbed directly into the leaves.

  1. The basic idea of fertilization is to supplement the soil rather than the plant. Just because the label says “Lawn Fertilizer” or “Rose Food,” it doesn’t mean that fertilizer must be used exclusively on that plant, or that plant must have its namesake fertilizer. Specialty fertilizers in general were formulated to meet greenhouse growers’ needs, providing enough nutrients in the right proportions for the named plants when those are growing in soilless peat-bark mixes. A Michigan State University Extension soil test is a better guide for choosing fertilizer for field-grown plants. It pinpoints nutrients present and lacking in a soil. You may correctly use lawn fertilizer on roses and vegetable formulas on trees if those products most closely match the nutrient ratios prescribed by the MSU soil test result.
  2. An excess of any nutrient can be wasteful, or even harmful, to plants or the wider environment. Avoid “bloom builder” fertilizers with an extremely high middle number (10-30-20 and 5-30-5 formulations are two examples) unless you know your soil is deficient in what that middle number measures, phosphorus.
  3. Learn to recognize needy plants by diminishing leaf size, paleness or washed-out bloom color. Use water soluble products as mid-season supplements for these plants – kelp and fish emulsion sprays or water soluble powders.
  4. Accept the fact that some plants are so far removed from their forebears that they need more nutrients than nature can supply. Varieties of rose, delphinium, clematis, dahlia, tomato and corn bred for enormous flowers or fruits won’t live up to their catalog descriptions without fertilizer supplements.
  5. Likewise, plants that you plant in soil that is very different than their native habitat will probably need special attention. Rhododendrons, azaleas, pieris, mountain laurel and heather cannot obtain essential nutrients from alkaline soil and so require “acid-loving plant” fertilizers that supply micronutrients in water soluble form.
  6. Use MSU Extension’s soil testing lab to learn what nutrients your soil really needs. (Contact your county’s MSU Extension office for a soil testing kit and instructions.) You may be surprised. Some soils have everything a plant needs except nitrogen, so the fertilizer recommendation from MSU’s soil lab may call for a simple nitrogen source such as 20-0-0 lawn fertilizer.
  7. Don’t use it if you don’t want to. Keep your soil’s organic matter content high by continual sheet composting – layering nutrient-rich plant matter such as fallen leaves and kitchen parings over the soil. Organic matter decomposes into nitrogen and other nutrients. One percent of organic matter in the soil yields nitrogen at a rate comparable to fertilizing with one pound of actual nitrogen per thousand square feet. It takes 3 pounds of 33-0-0 or 100 pounds of 1-0-0 fertilizer to do the same for that 1,000 square feet.
  8. Microorganisms and other soil-dwelling creatures must digest slow-release organic fertilizers such as cottonseed meal and feather meal before the nutrients in these products become soluble and available to plant roots. So apply such fertilizers a month or two before you expect the plants in that area to begin rapid growth.
  9. “Organic” and “inorganic” (manufactured) fertilizers often look very similar and other distinctions between them are also fuzzy. A plant can’t use either type of fertilizer until it has been dissolved in water. Most “organics” must be broken down by fungi and soil-dwelling creatures before they dissolve, while many “inorganic” fertilizers dissolve immediately. Yet fish emulsion, kelp and compost tea are organic and water soluble.

Flower color may be deeper in some species when the plant is given supplemental fertilizer. But fertilizer isn’t necessary if the flowers and colors in your garden measure up on the yardstick that counts most—your own appreciative eye.
Flower color may be deeper in some species when the plant is given supplemental fertilizer. But fertilizer isn’t necessary if the flowers and colors in your garden measure up on the yardstick that counts most—your own appreciative eye.

The queen of vines, large-flowered clematis, has a reputation for loving alkaline soils. Although this myth has been dispelled by experts, many gardeners continue to spread agricultural lime or gypsum at the feet of their clematis. In Michigan’s naturally-alkaline soils, this repeated liming can be counterproductive, blocking other nutrients from reaching the plant.
The queen of vines, large-flowered clematis, has a reputation for loving alkaline soils. Although this myth has been dispelled by experts, many gardeners continue to spread agricultural lime or gypsum at the feet of their clematis. In Michigan’s naturally-alkaline soils, this repeated liming can be counterproductive, blocking other nutrients from reaching the plant.

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

Filed Under: Janet’s Journal Tagged With: Fertilizer, fertilizing, Janet Macunovich, Janet’s Journal

Janet’s Journal: A Veggie Smart Perspective

May 2, 2017   •   Leave a Comment

Harvest time at Ernie Bergeron’s—beautiful as well as tasty and fragrant.
Harvest time at Ernie Bergeron’s—beautiful as well as tasty and fragrant.

One man’s successful transition of backyard lawn to vegetable garden

Rainwater can be collected for irrigation. Bergeron’s downspouts fill rain barrels. The barrels are elevated on blocks so they can be tapped to supply the garden.
Rainwater can be collected for irrigation. Bergeron’s downspouts fill rain barrels. The barrels are elevated on blocks so they can be tapped to supply the garden.

Being laid off from your job can certainly change your perspective. In the early 1970’s, trucker Ernie Bergeron received a lay-off notice. Perhaps it was because the future wasn’t looking too bright that a new, dim view of lawn overtook him one day. He recalls standing in his backyard and wondering, “What am I growing all this grass for? I can’t eat grass!”

So he started digging, and planted a vegetable garden. 30 years later, retired but still digging, he improves his techniques every year. The vegetable “bed” now fills every inch of his 750 square foot backyard. It lives up to Bergeron’s description—“my country garden in the city,” partly because it’s completely walled off from the neighbors by lush, bird-planted grape vines and black raspberry bushes that grow along the enclosing fences.

It’s as self-contained as any farm, too. It includes some perennial crops as well as the more standard annual vegetables. There’s a compost area, rainwater collectors and a gravity-fed irrigation system, storage for equipment, plus many practically ingenious and whimsically inspired inventions. A salvaged 55-gallon drum is the main element in an elevated, rotating compost bin, which he turns daily to reap a steady supply of crumbly dark compost. His latest project was once a truck cap. It sits on a cinder block frame now, its black sides absorbing heat and windows oriented to admit light. Bergeron’s fitted it with shelves and is nearly ready to put it to use as a greenhouse.

Vegetable gardening isn’t so popular as flower gardening, but you wonder why, when you stand in Bergeron’s domain and sample the produce. One bite of a fresh-picked cuke or whiff of a warm, ripe pepper and I’m ready to redesign some flower beds to make room for potatoes, corn and beans. It’s like trading one sense for two or three—less visually exciting, perhaps, but heavenly in scent and taste, and much more likely to draw me in to touch and fondle.

And as for the possibilities – the sky’s the limit in this oldest of gardening pursuits. In the 6,000 years that beans have been cultivated, gardeners were not sitting still but selecting and passing on their favorite varieties. Although commercial farmers in North America now restrict themselves to just six potato cultivars, hundreds of types still exist, legacy of ancient New World gardens that provided a range of potato-y flavors from nutty to tart.

It would be a shame, on many levels, to let that legacy pass. European explorers of the 18th century found far better gardens in the Americas than they had known back home. Native Americans grew more species and varieties than most Europeans had ever seen, and in many cases used more advanced techniques. It’s likely that Bergeron, keen on treading lightly on the Earth by growing organically, would have enjoyed comparing notes with those gardeners. They would both know from experience that thorough soil preparation and the plant’s own health are the best defense against any pest.

Bergeron worked hard on his soil preparation at first, but now he works smarter and less hard. “What I found when I first started digging was that this lot was used once for a dumping site. A manufacturing plant that was near here seems to have just dumped truckloads of scraps. It was disgusting. I knew I had to do something to make the soil better.

“Now I cover the whole yard with 10 to 12 inches of leaves in the fall. I wait until it dries in spring then sometime in May I turn the leaves and till them in. Maybe I’ll till them twice if they weren’t all the way dry the first time. Then I level it all and make my raised beds.

“I use string to outline my paths and then dig down, taking soil from the paths, throwing it on the rows and leveling it off. I usually make the rows no more than four feet wide so I can work in them without stepping in them. I can work two feet into the row from either side without stepping on it. It’s important to stay off the rows because the plants grow so much better in loose soil.

“I don’t start seed in the house, usually. The plants are too spindly when I grow from seed in the house. I buy my plants already started, although this year I’ll try out my new greenhouse. Some things I sow directly, of course—beets and carrots, for instance. I make my little rows and start the seed right there.

“I cut some rhubarb and horseradish in May. How do I manage to work around perennials like horseradish and rhubarb when I till in the leaves? I just till right over the horseradish – small pieces come up all over; enough for me to use if I watch for them. The rhubarb grows along the edge with the raspberries and the grape vines on the fence, where I don’t till.

“I don’t do much to the fruit. I prune the raspberries when I have time. I cut the dead canes out and throw a shovel of compost over their roots once in a while. I actually don’t dare go right in with them because I’d be sure to cry and because of what I’d look like—a guy trying to wrestle a wildcat!

“I grow way more than I can eat—here, have some of this cabbage, and some cucumbers. And I eat things other people might not think to try—here, taste this,” he says, pointing to the weed purslane that covers a bare area. “Really high in vitamin C, and tasty!”

“Learn how to make compost instead of using those chemical fertilizers – it’s free. Who fertilizes the forest? No one!,” says Bergeron.
“Learn how to make compost instead of using those chemical fertilizers – it’s free. Who fertilizes the forest? No one!,” says Bergeron.

Ernie Bergeron’s suggestions for the vegetable gardener:

  1. Don’t plant too early. “I usually wait until the latter part of May to plant. I’d rather be late than early.”
  2. “Learn how to make compost instead of using those chemical fertilizers—it’s free. Who fertilizes the forest? No one! I shovel compost onto the beds, and also make compost tea. And not only do my plants grow, but they grow well, even though I’ve been growing the same things in the same places all these years. No rotating—there’s really not room to rotate in a yard this small, anyway. It’s the compost and all the leaves I add that does it. If I have to buy fertilizer, I use fish emulsion and use it sparingly, maybe one or two times a season if the plants look a little pale.”
  3. “Get away from chemicals. You don’t need them if the soil is in good shape. And encourage birds—a bird feeder I made from a metal trash can lid brings lots of birds in here. My friends the sparrows eat lots of bad bugs!”
  4. “Keep weeds down by mulching with grass clippings or with leaves. You can store the leaves in bags from the previous fall. Just put the leaves in trash bags then cover the bags with a tarp so moisture doesn’t get in.”

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

Filed Under: Janet’s Journal Tagged With: Janet Macunovich, Janet’s Journal, vegetables

After the Fall: Late-Season Plant Staking

June 28, 2016   •   2 Comments

Many of the players in this scene owe their upright stance to the gardener who took a few minutes in May to position a grow-through support above the plant.
Many of the players in this scene owe their upright stance to the gardener who took a few minutes in May to position a grow-through support above the plant.

Save grace and flower with these restorative plant staking techniques

by Janet Macunovich / Photos by Steven Nikkila

This article is not about proper plant staking, that pre-meditated placing of supports. It’s about staking after a plant falls or when a plant flop is imminent.

Surely you’re familiar with the situation: it takes place in high summer. It involves a perennial whose progress you’ve been following with pleasure—by its fullness and vigor it has made it clear that this year’s bloom is going to be the best ever. The action begins as you step outside to look over your garden and find it, the promising star, leaning drunkenly against a neighboring plant or sprawled flat like a worn out puppy on a hot day.

The next time you find yourself playing this scene, resist the urge to grab all the stems, stuff them together in a string girdle and tether them to a stake. Few things look more ridiculous than bunched, crooked-tip stems with foliage turned inside-out, torn or flattened by the encasing cord. Not only are your efforts sure to produce a visual disaster, chances are you’ll crack stems or flower stalks in the process.

Before you take that route, try one of the following methods of restorative staking.

Left, a grow-through support is a simple, effective device—if it’s used in May. Right, the globe thistle (Echinops ritro) stands tall and straight in July. If you look closely you can see the edge of the support that was placed in May and keeps the plant in line.
Left: a grow-through support is a simple, effective device—if it’s used in May. Right: the globe thistle (Echinops ritro) stands tall and straight in July. If you look closely you can see the edge of the support that was placed in May and keeps the plant in line.

Stakes and crutches

First, gather a dozen or more stakes that are just as tall as or a bit taller than the plant was before it fell. Round up a small hammer. Put your pruners in your pocket, along with a roll of string or wide, soft ties—I prefer to use green- or straw-colored hemp. Often you will need some crutches as well, so take out your loppers and prune a shrub or two to get a half dozen sticks that are at least half the height of the fallen plant and have forked tops.

This globe thistle was not staked in May. By July 1, it’s leaning drastically, inches from a full fall.
This globe thistle was not staked in May. By July 1, it’s leaning drastically, inches from a full fall.

Now, lift a stem of the fallen plant you’ll be staking. Raise it gently toward vertical to see how far back you can push it without cracking it. Lay the stem back down again.

Insert 4 or 5 bamboo canes, straight sticks or hooked-end metal rods in the center of the plant’s air space. Imagine a spot about six inches underground, directly below the center of the plant’s crown. Insert the stakes as if they would meet at that point below the plant. Angle them so they are not straight up and down, but lean outward slightly to match what your test lift said the stems can bear.

Insert 6 or 8 more stakes to make a ring around the first. Lean these stakes outward to match the angle of the inner ring. An important note: You must be happy with the stakes’ positions before you start to work with the stems. The stakes should cover space evenly and gracefully—I aim to make them look like the spray of a fountain. I have learned that if I am not pleased with the stakes alone, I will not be happy with the finished staking either.

Tap the stakes into the ground with a hammer. I’ve found that if I use my weight to force them in, it’s too likely that I’ll lose my balance at least once and end up stepping or falling into the plant’s prostrate stems.

Set the stakes just deep enough to be steady. They don’t have to be driven to China, because each one is only going to support one or perhaps two stems.

To position the stakes well, you may drive them right through the crown of the plant. Don’t worry too much about this. Most of the time, the stakes will go through without serious damage. Once in a while a stake will pierce an important root or stem base, in which case the stem will tell you by wilting the next day and you’ll just cut it out then.

All of the fallen stems will be tied to or contained within the stakes you see here. You should be happy with the arrangement of the stakes before tying stems to them.
All of the fallen stems will be tied to or contained within the stakes you see here. You should be happy with the arrangement of the stakes before tying stems to them.

Next, take a look at the fallen stems. Picture the crown of the plant as a bull’s eye target and pick 4 or 5 stems that emanate from the bull’s eye at the center. Raise them gently, one by one, to meet in the middle of the inner ring of stakes. This often requires patience to separate the stems from the heap and guide them past the stakes without breaking them or tearing foliage.

Tie these central stems together, loosely. Let them lean against an inner-ring stake. This is only a temporary arrangement, so it doesn’t have to be pretty.

From stems still on the ground, select some that arise from the first ring around the bull’s eye. Tie one to each inner-ring stake.

Each of the inner-ring stakes has a stem tied to it now, and several stems stand free in the center. Here, for demonstration purposes, the inner ring of stakes has been temporarily marked with orange sleeves.
Each of the inner-ring stakes has a stem tied to it now, and several stems stand free in the center. Here, for demonstration purposes, the inner ring of stakes has been temporarily marked with orange sleeves.

After the inner ring of stakes is full, release the string that holds the central stems together. Usually these will not fall but will rest against each other or the stakes. However, if it seems like they may slip through and fall to the ground again, take one turn of string around the inner stakes to corral the loose stems within.

Use a figure-eight tie to prevent crushing the stem and to allow it necessary swaying leeway in winds and storms. That is, cross the two ends of your tying string in between the stem and the stake.
Use a figure-eight tie to prevent crushing the stem and to allow it necessary swaying leeway in winds and storms. That is, cross the two ends of your tying string in between the stem and the stake.

Now raise a stem and tie it to each outer-ring stake. Clip out weak and flowerless stems.

Cut off the tip of any stake that shows above the plant.

You can obtain crutches by cutting branches from many common landscape plants, including burning bush, crabapple and spruce. All foliage is removed and soft twigs clipped off to turn this 36-inch piece of burning bush into a crutch.
You can obtain crutches by cutting branches from many common landscape plants, including burning bush, crabapple and spruce. All foliage is removed and soft twigs clipped off to turn this 36-inch piece of burning bush into a crutch.

Use crutches to support the outermost stems of the fallen perennial. These outside stems are often least flexible and most crooked since they were the first to fall. Raise the outer stems one at a time, push a crutch into the ground to support it, then let the stem rest there. Sometimes one crutch has enough forks to support several stems. If so, drop stems one at a time into the crutch—don’t bunch them.

Raise the fallen stem. Push a crutch firmly into the ground so its fork is beneath the stem, then let the stem rest on the crutch.
Raise the fallen stem. Push a crutch firmly into the ground so its fork is beneath the stem, then let the stem rest on the crutch.

Here’s the globe thistle, arrested from its fall and restored to nearly full glory.
Here’s the globe thistle, arrested from its fall and restored to nearly full glory.

If raised before its flowers are open, a stem’s tip will turn up to vertical again. Here’s the plant, proud and tall two days after being staked, its crooked tips already straightening.
If raised before its flowers are open, a stem’s tip will turn up to vertical again. Here’s the plant, proud and tall two days after being staked, its crooked tips already straightening.

Crutches alone

Sometimes when a plant is only beginning to fall or when it has very few stems, it can be returned to grace with just a few well-placed crutches.

Left, This milky bellflower Campanula lactiflora ‘Loddon Anna’ wouldn’t normally need staking but is growing away from the shade of big trees 25 feet to the west. Its stems are likely to descend further unless staked. Crutches are all that will be needed to bring the plant back up from its fall. Right, Each stem was lifted and a crutch pushed into the ground to hold it nearer to vertical. For crutches with multiple forks, additional stems were then lifted and guided into the crutch.
Left: This milky bellflower (Campanula lactiflora ‘Loddon Anna’) wouldn’t normally need staking, but it is growing away from the shade of big trees 25 feet to the west. Its stems are likely to descend further unless staked. Crutches are all that will be needed to bring the plant back up from its fall. Right: Each stem was lifted and a crutch pushed into the ground to hold it nearer to vertical. For crutches with multiple forks, additional stems were then lifted and guided into the crutch.

Lasso it, then crutch it

Throwing a lasso and cinching it around a plant is not attractive or even effective—the whole bale can still slump to one side or the other. However, I do sometimes cinch stems temporarily to pull a plant together while I set crutches.

Crutches are often simpler to place than late-season stakes and are much less visible than any kind of corral or police line you could construct around the outside of the plant with stakes and string.

Left: This culver’s root (Veronicastrum virginicum) was beginning to topple. Although it looks ridiculous in its string girdle, it’s only a temporary measure – a way to make the plant “suck it in” while crutches are placed. Right: While it’s tied up I can set crutches around the base of the plant. They’re sleeved with orange so you can see them better.
Left: This culver’s root (Veronicastrum virginicum) was beginning to topple. Although it looks ridiculous in its string girdle, it’s only a temporary measure—a way to make the plant “suck it in” while crutches are placed. Right: While it’s tied up, I can set crutches around the base of the plant. They’re sleeved with orange so you can see them better.

Left: I’m releasing the plant from its string girdle now, and the stems are relaxing against the crutches. Right: Don’t you think using crutches allows the plant to retain its grace? Just compare it to the strung-up culver’s root in photo number 1.
Left: I’m releasing the plant from its string girdle now, and the stems are relaxing against the crutches. Right: Don’t you think using crutches allows the plant to retain its grace? Just compare it to the strung-up culver’s root in photo number 1.

Another reason to temporarily tie up a plant is to work on a fallen neighbor:

Left: This yellow daylily and blue balloon flower (Platycodon grandiflorus) make a great combination when they bloom together, but the daylily has overgrown its neighbor. The daylily can be divided in fall or spring to reduce its size. For now, I’ll stake the balloon flower. Right: It helps to tie the daylily out of the way while I work on the balloon flower.
Left: This yellow daylily and blue balloon flower (Platycodon grandiflorus) make a great combination when they bloom together, but the daylily has overgrown its neighbor. The daylily can be divided in fall or spring to reduce its size. For now, I’ll stake the balloon flower. Right: It helps to tie the daylily out of the way while I work on the balloon flower.

Left: I’ve placed the stakes and am raising and tying the fallen balloon flower stems. An alternative would be to leave the fallen stems on the ground and use short stakes to keep the tips vertical. I decided against that option since I prefer to have the blue balloon flowers open at the same height as the daylilies. Right: Once the balloon flower was staked, I released the daylily from its bonds. I also clipped back some of the daylily’s leaves to make it less overwhelming.
Left: I’ve placed the stakes and am raising and tying the fallen balloon flower stems. An alternative would be to leave the fallen stems on the ground and use short stakes to keep the tips vertical. I decided against that option since I prefer to have the blue balloon flowers open at the same height as the daylilies. Right: Once the balloon flower was staked, I released the daylily from its bonds. I also clipped back some of the daylily’s leaves to make it less overwhelming.

Wrap-up: a time consuming thing

Staking after the fall takes considerably more time and skill than preventive staking. As an example, staking the blue globe thistle after its fall, including the time required to cut branches and make crutches, took about an hour. Placing the grow-through grid over the globe thistle pictured at the beginning of this article took less than five minutes in May. As my Dad always said, “If you do a thing right at the start, even if it seems like a lot of work, it will still save time in the long run.”

On the other hand, Mom must have told me a million times, “Don’t cry over it! Use your head and come up with a way to fix it.”

Out in the garden in July and August, I smile every time I stake after a fall. I’m not only salvaging a pretty plant, I’m proving my parents’ wisdom.

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

Filed Under: Janet’s Journal Tagged With: Janet Macunovich, Janet’s Journal, plant staking

An Expert Perspective: Making the Most of Garden Walks

June 1, 2016   •   4 Comments

You can ask for the names of the plants that thrill you as you tour a garden. But what if you were seeing those plants through the eyes of someone involved with breeding them? What would that expert see?
You can ask for the names of the plants that thrill you as you tour a garden. But what if you were seeing those plants through the eyes of someone involved with breeding them? What would that expert see?

by Janet Macunovich / Photos by Steven Nikkila

Live my life in the garden, that’s what I do. Work in others’ gardens. Teach in gardens. Write about gardens. With all the time I spend there, it seems like my great revelation about making the most of garden walks would have come to me there.

Nope. It came on a horse.

My daughter wanted to go riding, but none of her friends could go. So I went. It was a pretty fall day, but a weekday. The stables were nearly deserted, and the same man who took our money and collected our insurance waivers saddled our horses and one for himself. We’d take his favorite path, he told us, the one he’d first cut through the woods ten years before.

It can be fun, mind-expanding or even shocking to hear what someone else is thinking as they look where you do. When you wonder about how long it took to plant it, they may be pondering what kind of finish those non-plant materials need to be weather-resistant.
It can be fun, mind-expanding or even shocking to hear what someone else is thinking as they look where you do. When you wonder about how long it took to plant it, they may be pondering what kind of finish those non-plant materials need to be weather-resistant.

What do you see? Pretty plant combinations that you wonder if you can grow? Intriguing garden art the source for which you’d like to know? Are those the same things someone else would see? You never know, and therein lies one of the greatest values of taking garden walks!
What do you see? Pretty plant combinations that you wonder if you can grow? Intriguing garden art the source for which you’d like to know? Are those the same things someone else would see? You never know, and therein lies one of the greatest values of taking garden walks!

Single file behind him, we rode into those woods. Quietly at first, enjoying the colors and the sush of hooves on fallen leaves.

Then my daughter pointed out a clump of baneberry just off the trail, turning in her saddle to be sure I looked where she pointed. I saw, and we made some just-to-talk guesses about what else we’d find growing there, if we waded in.

Our guide had not even turned to look, but my daughter, ever the sociable gatekeeper in conversation, called to him. “Don’t worry. We aren’t really going to stop. Way too much poison ivy in there!”

Then, he did stop. Reined right in. “You know what poison ivy looks like?” he asked us.

“Uh, huh,” we both said. I looked at the vines scrambling over brush and along the ground, some shed of foliage, others with a red leaf or two still clinging. Vines on tree trunks alongside the path were presenting their leaves so close that our horses were surely carrying some of the oil on their coats. How could someone who rode this path every day, who dealt with the effects of poison ivy all the time—as he was now proceeding to tell us—how could he NOT know what it looked like?

So we pointed out the vines, the leaves, and some telltale characteristics of both. Pulling a gallon baggie from my jeans pocket—as a dog owner and a cutting-snitcher, I’m rarely ever without one—I covered my hand, reached out and broke off a bit of leafy vine. “Here,” I said, reversing the bag on itself, to seal vine and oil inside. “We can hang this on your bulletin board. It’ll be safe enough in the bag, and people will know exactly what to watch out for.”

You’d probably be encouraged to take home not just the name of the plants, but the tonnage of stone and details of construction if your 70-year-old tour companion said, on seeing this stonework, “You know, Bonnie and I built our stone wall last year by ourselves and it was easier than it looks.”
You’d probably be encouraged to take home not just the name of the plants, but the tonnage of stone and details of construction if your 70-year-old tour companion said, on seeing this stonework, “You know, Bonnie and I built our stone wall last year by ourselves and it was easier than it looks.”

What a nice smile he gave us! So I dared to ask the burning question.

“I wonder,” I said. “I look into the woods here and the poison ivy jumps out at me. You’ve been scanning the woods as we ride, too, but you weren’t registering those vines until just now. What is it YOU see alongside this path?”

So, for an hour or so one afternoon, I looked into those woods through a horse-savvy, outdoorsman’s eyes. There was so much there I would have missed.

The butt of a large tree, sawed off nearly at ground level wouldn’t have interested me, but it made our guide chuckle. “Had to cut through that old tree twice. Once when it first cracked and leaned over the path. A second time when the horses kept shying and wouldn’t walk past the stump I left behind!”

Some tumbled rocks held another story. “I always take a good look around those big rocks because once there was a fox den up there. Those foxes, they sure take care of the mice around the barns.”

On a garden walk, there are so many eyes, and each pair sees something different.
On a garden walk, there are so many eyes, and each pair sees something different.

That eye-opener of a ride changed what I do before going on a garden tour.

I still make my standard preparations. That starts with admitting that no matter how impressive a plant or garden feature is when I see it, I will NOT recall its name, where someone said it came from, or even why it impressed me without a memory aid. So I round up a pencil, a pocket notebook and sometimes a camera, too. I don’t bother with pens anymore, having learned that pencils work even in the rain and graphite scribbles are legible even after something unfortunate like a dip in a water garden.

Then, I take a stroll through my own yard a day or so before the garden walk. The objective is to note my current stars—what’s in bloom or has other appeal such as great form, attractive seed pods or sweet smell. Why? Because my pre-tour perceptions will help me sift through all the beautiful things on the tour to develop a truly practical “must have right now” list.

On the tour, I consider each potential “must have” against that mental snapshot of my own yard. I don’t concentrate hard to do this, just let the visual stimulation switch on what every gardener has: great visual sense. Very quickly, the mind’s eye can tuck the item under consideration into a hundred different real spots, and critique it.

Fun garden art? Lush groundcover? Multi-stemmed tree trunk? A beautiful trellis/vine combination? For each viewer, it may be something different.
Fun garden art? Lush groundcover? Multi-stemmed tree trunk? A beautiful trellis/vine combination? For each viewer, it may be something different.

This process flags for me the things I can buy right away, even on the way home, because they can be added without rearranging a whole garden. I star those in my notes as “must have’s.” The runners-up are noted as well but not starred. I won’t make the mistake of hauling home a bunch of plants that may languish and perhaps die in their pots while I get around to moving a fence or adding a walk (those little details that can delay a planting).

Finally, I recruit a companion for these treks to peek into private gardens. Who? Anyone who would enjoy a pleasant walk who also sees differently than I do. She or he might not even be a gardener and that’s fine because what I hope they’ll bring with them, and give me a look through, is a perspective on gardens and plants flavored by a background in some field I don’t know. It might be that they travel a lot, practice embroidery, admire calligraphy, know how to jet ski or once studied astronomy. Whatever we don’t have in common, that’s what will make the day most interesting. Together, we’ll see more than we would have.

 

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

Filed Under: Janet’s Journal Tagged With: garden walks, Janet Macunovich, Janet’s Journal

Janet’s Journal: Gardens Talk

May 17, 2016   •   2 Comments

The garden can proclaim your profession or desired career. Would you say the gardener who placed this sculpture to repeat the lines of the tree is in a design field?
The garden can proclaim your profession or desired career. Would you say the gardener who placed this sculpture to repeat the lines of the tree is in a design field?

Our gardens are reflections of who we are as people

…and when you see a Harry Lauder’s walking stick shrub (Corylus avellana ‘Contorta’) pruned into a ball, do you suspect an engineer works on the premises?
…and when you see a Harry Lauder’s walking stick shrub (Corylus avellana ‘Contorta’) pruned into a ball, do you suspect an engineer works on the premises?

by Janet Macunovich /
Photos by Steven Nikkila

First, we talk to the plants. Then, they begin to talk to us. Simply at first—“I need water!”—but eventually they speak with more eloquence—“I would appreciate some micronutrients in my water, darling. And could you see to my friend here? He is making me itchy with his spider mite condition and I’d be greatly relieved if you’d rinse him thoroughly!”

Why was I surprised then, to find that the whole garden begins to tell tales on its gardener? Once I tuned in to the language, I found it was fascinating, a whole new dimension to enjoy.

General-garden and whole-landscape messages follow the same progression from simple to complex that individual plants use as they teach us their language. In the beginning, we may understand only the most obvious statements, such as “This is the door my gardener would prefer you use.” Given time and gardening experience, though, more subtle signs become clear and can apply to almost any issue. These higher-order statements may point us to the best seat in the yard or clue us in to how the gardener in residence really feels about guests—whether he or she truly wants visitors or would prefer they simply stand and look, then go away.

As the gardener becomes more experienced and his or her “vocabulary” of plants and materials grows, the garden becomes more vocal about its owner’s personality. It gives away the gardener who is playful...
As the gardener becomes more experienced and his or her “vocabulary” of plants and materials grows, the garden becomes more vocal about its owner’s personality. It gives away the gardener who is playful…

...an opportunist...
…an opportunist…

The language is most coherent in the true gardener’s garden. As a baby might delight us with playful use of a few sounds, so does a novice planter convey very basic messages of joy or frustration when they work with a flat or two of annuals. Advanced gardeners speak with a much greater vocabulary. Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves. Gardeners grow to display theirs in the landscape.

...an optimist, with new plants waiting to be planted even at Halloween...
…an optimist, with new plants waiting to be planted even at Halloween…

Gardenspeak is not alphabet-based, but more like hieroglyphic or Chinese writing. Since its individual characters are so complex, a good reader can form an overall impression of the message’s tone just from the quality of the writing—whether the glyphs are rendered crudely, with competence, or are works of art. Because the characters themselves are more fluid than letters in an alphabet, it’s possible for a master, using only tiny strokes, to change any ideogram into something quite different in meaning. When we garden we write in just such a complex, liquid code made up of our choice and placement of plants, the composition and condition of our paths, the siting and comfort level of seating, and much more.

In this code our gardens make it quite clear where we spend our time—not just what our favorite spots are in a garden, but where we most often are in the building the garden surrounds. They also describe what seasons of the year are important to us. In the landscape and garden are written a person’s life history—what environment they knew as a child, the schooling they had, what attachments they have to other people, whether they own pets, even what the person’s profession is or might be one day. With practice and a gardener’s eye we can decipher another gardener’s hopes and dreams, personal philosophy, and demeanor.

Before this season ends, while there is time to plan changes for next year, look at what your garden is saying about you!

...or an absent-minded person. (This iris survived over a month above ground!)
…or an absent-minded person. (This iris survived over a month above ground!)

Can this garden make it any more obvious that its gardener has her arms wide open in welcome?
Can this garden make it any more obvious that its gardener has her arms wide open in welcome?

Where you’ve traveled or wish to travel might be spelled out in your garden, in plants and accessories.
Where you’ve traveled or wish to travel might be spelled out in your garden, in plants and accessories.

This garden makes no bones about it, someone in the Knorr house enjoys this window!
This garden makes no bones about it—someone in this house enjoys this window!

Lots of gadgets in a garden might mean the gardener is wise to the ways of technology... or when the gadgets reside on shelves and remain in packages it may mean the gardener or gardener’s family wishes to be more technologically adept!
Lots of gadgets in a garden might mean the gardener is wise to the ways of technology… or when the gadgets reside on shelves and remain in packages it may mean the gardener or gardener’s family wishes to be more technologically adept!

Never be overly concerned about what your garden might say. Take a hint from these gardeners, who have relocated almost every major feature in their garden numerous times—we gardeners just keep on growing!
Never be overly concerned about what your garden might say. Take a hint from these gardeners, who have relocated almost every major feature in their garden numerous times—we gardeners just keep on growing!

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

Filed Under: Janet’s Journal Tagged With: Janet Macunovich, Janet’s Journal, personality, reflections

Janet’s Journal: Usual Plants, Unusually Grown

April 27, 2016   •   4 Comments

Part 2 of 2

Shrubs grown as perennials and perennials grown as shrubs

This shrub, golden elderberry (Sambucus nigra ‘Aurea’), is cut back to leave just one or two feet of its two main trunks every spring. The result is a compact, golden “perennial.”
This shrub, golden elderberry (Sambucus nigra ‘Aurea’), is cut back to leave just one or two feet of its two main trunks every spring. The result is a compact, golden “perennial.”

Shrubs as perennials

Dwarf spireas can be treated like herbaceous perennials. Cut back to the ground early each April, they still bloom that summer, although a bit later than otherwise. Cut hard in this way, they are also often denser, a bit shorter, and the foliage color may be more intense.
Dwarf spireas can be treated like herbaceous perennials. Cut back to the ground early each April, they still bloom that summer, although a bit later than otherwise. Cut hard in this way, they are also often denser, a bit shorter, and the foliage color may be more intense.

If we grow a shrub for its foliage (barberry, privet, smoke tree and others), or we like the flowers and they are produced on wood that grew just this year (rose of Sharon, beautyberry, potentilla and others), why not cut it back to stubs every April 1, treating it like the herbaceous perennials we leave standing for winter interest? That’s what we can do with all of those on this list. Some of them you already grow this way (butterfly bush, blue mist spirea, Russian sage), and don’t even give much thought to the fact that they’re shrubs. The others on the list are just as amenable to this treatment.

What can you expect will be different about a shrub treated as a perennial? Cut back to nubs every spring, a shrub may be only 2 to 4 feet tall at its height every year—shorter than otherwise, but tall enough for most gardens. Flowering isn’t usually affected except that it may come later in the season than on un-cut shrubs of the same type—not a problem if you added these plants to your garden specifically to continue the floral show after spring and early summer perennials finish their show. The foliage on first-year branches is often larger and more intensely colored than normal, which is a plus. Also, the new wood itself is often more intensely colored than older branches, so shrubs we like for their stem color in winter are even more attractive when treated this way.

Shrubs grown as perennials: 

  • Barberry* (Berberis thunbergii varieties)
  • Beautyberry# (Callicarpa japonica). Purple berries in fall are the attraction.
  • Blue mist spirea or bluebeard#* (Caryopteris x clandonensis)
  • Butterfly bush# (Buddleia davidii)
  • Chaste tree# (Vitex negundo)
  • Dwarf spirea#* (Spiraea x bumalda)
  • Elderberry* (Sambucus varieties with gold or bicolor leaf)
  • Golden vicary privet* (Ligustrum x vicaryii)
  • Panicle hydrangea# (H. paniculata) and snowball hydrangea# (H. arborescens). Please don’t confuse these with other types of hydrangea such as the blue-, pink-flowered or oak leaf types which need two-year-old wood to bloom.
  • Potentilla# (P. fruticosa)
  • Redtwig and yellowtwig dogwood (Cornus alba, C. sericea). Winter stem color is the primary show.
  • Rose of Sharon# (Hibiscus syriacus)
  • Smoke tree* (Cotinus coggygria)

* shrub grown for its foliage
# shrub grown for its flowers (on new wood)

Perennials as shrubs

Some herbaceous perennials are so large and sturdy that they can overwhelm the rest of a garden. Instead of shrubs, they can be used as hedges, specimens, or even foundation plants. The only catch is that they will vacate their spots once a year, either from fall when they die back until early summer when they’ve once again reached the desired height, or if their stems are sturdy enough to stand over winter, we lose them only from early spring when we cut them back until early summer.

One additional feature I require of perennials used this way is that they be long-lived and clump-forming. I want to be able to depend on them to be in the exact same place for a number of years, as I would a shrub.

Perennials grown as shrubs…

  • Boltonia (B. asteroides). 3 to 4 feet tall. White or pink flowers appear almost as a surprise every September.
  • Cup plant (Silphium perfoliatum). 6 feet or more. Produces small sunflowers in July.
  • False indigo (Baptisia australis). 3 to 4 feet tall. Contributes wands of blue flowers every June and can look like a black iron sculpture over winter.
  • Goatsbeard (Aruncus dioicus). 4 to 5 feet tall.
  • Ornamental grasses, particularly maiden grass (Miscanthus varieties) and feather reed grass (Calamagrostis acutiflora). Heights range from 2 to 8 feet. Fall and winter aspects can be stunning.
  • Peony. 3 feet. Hardly bears listing, since it’s almost a usual thing to grow it as a hedge.
  • Perennial sunflower (Helianthus x multiflorus). Cheery single or double sunflowers several inches across, every August. 3 to 5 feet tall.
  • Purple bush clover (Lespedeza thunbergii). 5 feet tall, with great showers of pink flowers every September.
  • Russian sage (Perovskia atriplicifolia). 3 to 4 feet tall.
  • Sedum ‘Autumn Joy’. 18 to 24 inches. Like peony, it hardly bears listing since it’s been in foundation plantings for decades.

Vines as shrubs, trees or groundcover

Climbing hydrangea (H. anomala petiolaris) is a very large vine but can be kept pruned to forms that range from shrubby to tree-form espalier.
Climbing hydrangea (H. anomala petiolaris) is a very large vine but can be kept pruned to forms that range from shrubby to tree-form espalier.

We think of vines when we need to cover a trellis or other vertical surface, but many vines are also happy to cover the ground. English ivy may come to mind right away, but keep an open mind to Hall’s honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica ‘Halliana’) and clematis that can be cut back in spring but still bloom that year (late-blooming species such as C. texensis and C. viticella and fall-blooming clematis C. maximowicziana, C. paniculata or C. terniflora).

If I want a vine to cover the ground and provide flower, too, there are some plants I have to strike off my list. Climbing hydrangea (H. anomala petiolaris), wisteria and trumpet vine (Campsis radicans) will clamber happily on the ground but won’t bloom there. Their flowers come after the plant has established a strong vertical framework with permanent (woody) horizontal side branches.

Some vines can also be convinced with regular pruning to stay in a relatively tight shape like a mounded shrub. With staking, they can even be a small tree. Evergreen euonymus (E. fortunei varieties such as ‘Ivory Jade,’ ‘Emerald Gaiety’ and ‘Sunspot’) is so amenable to use as a shrub that many people don’t even know how beautifully it climbs when given a chance.

A few, such as wisteria, trumpet vine, silver lace vine (Polygonum aubertii), evergreen euonymus and climbing hydrangea, can develop main canes so thick that they can serve as trunks. Strap a sturdy young cane to a strong post, cut off all suckers from the roots and shoots from low on the trunk-to-be, and give it a few years to thicken that cane. Don’t forget, though, that most of these are large plants and so their “crown”—once they’re trained as a tree—will need hard pruning at least once a year to keep it in bounds. Some, such as trumpet vine and wisteria, will also sucker like a wild thing, so it’s wise to site them where they will be surrounded by mowed lawn.

 

Filed Under: Janet’s Journal Tagged With: Janet Macunovich, Janet’s Journal, shrubs, trees, Unusual Plants

Janet’s Journal: Usual Plants, Unusually Grown

April 1, 2016   •   2 Comments

Favorite shrubs-as-trees are species with clean branching, such as this burning bush.
Favorite shrubs-as-trees are species with clean branching, such as this burning bush.

Part 1 of 2

Shrubs grown as trees and trees grown as shrubs

How much do you spend each year to stock your garden with unusual plants? How tall are the stacks of catalogs acquired in pursuit of the latest and greatest?

Here’s an alternative idea: spare your wallet and your green thumb by growing more common, easier things. You don’t have to give up your position on the cutting-edge, though—just grow your commoners in unconventional ways.

You’ve seen this approach if you’ve ever noticed a topiary juniper or Wisteria “tree.” Both are run-of-the-mill plants, one transformed through pruning, the other by staking a stem upright and clipping off all branches except those at the top until the stem is thickened and bare like a trunk.
The beauty of these treatments is that they involve plants that are dependably easy to grow, since all of their quirks and problems are well known. Ordinary plants are so widely available that they’re inexpensive to the point of being expendable. That’s important, since when we grow them in extraordinary ways we need to feel free to experiment. The very ordinariness of these plants also makes it more fun to identify them when people admire them as something special or unique: “Oh that?! It’s just an arborvitae!”

Evergreen euonymus (E. fortunei varieties such as this ‘Ivory Jade,’ ‘Emerald Gaiety’ and ‘Sunspot’) is so amenable to use as a shrub that many people don’t even know how beautifully it climbs when given a chance, or how striking it can be as a small tree.
Evergreen euonymus (E. fortunei varieties such as this ‘Ivory Jade,’ ‘Emerald Gaiety’ and ‘Sunspot’) is so amenable to use as a shrub that many people don’t even know how beautifully it climbs when given a chance, or how striking it can be as a small tree.

Shrubs as trees

My favorites in the unusual usual category are shrubs used as trees.

By “tree,” I don’t mean the horticultural definition of tree—a species generally taller than 20 feet but with just one or a few trunks that last its lifetime. I mean a plant in the form popularly associated with the word—a clean trunk or three, with leaf concentrated at the tops of the trunks. And what I mean by using a shrub as a tree is that we choose a shrub of suitable size—new or existing—and prune it to the classic tree form.

In that way, almost any shrub can be turned into a small tree. Just select one or a few healthy, well-placed canes, cut out all others, and remove side shoots up to the desired height. New canes or side shoots may appear and have to be removed in subsequent years. However, the best candidates for tree-dom, such as yews and bayberry, sucker very little and stop producing low side branches after the first year or two of training.

A definite drawback of tree-form shrubs is that a shrub’s canes are generally not so long-lived as a tree’s trunk. So when I cut a laceleaf buckthorn or staghorn sumac down to just three canes and limb those canes up to five feet to turn it into a small tree, it has to be with the understanding that those canes will last only a limited time – maybe ten years. Something will eventually happen to kill that wood, perhaps insect damage or dieback due to age. I’ll have to watch for the early signs of decline, such as reduced growth or premature fall color on a cane, and then allow a sucker or two to develop at the base of the plant as a replacement cane. Or when its canes begin to fail I’ll remove the shrub and start over with something new.

My favorite shrubs-as-trees are species with clean branching, such as burning bush and viburnum. To grasp what I mean by “clean,” just consider the opposite—something like tatarian honeysuckle (Lonicera tatarica) which consists of little more than a rag-taggle of criss-crossing limbs and clutter of short-lived twigs. It makes an ugly shrub and an even uglier tree.

Shrubs grown as trees—a plant list:

Bayberry (Myrica pensylvanica). Semi-evergreen, fragrant in all parts, glossy foliage. 6 feet tall, sometimes 10.

Blackhaw viburnum (V. prunifolium). 12 to 15 feet tall and wide. Pretty white flowers, fruit for the birds, great fall color.

Burkwood viburnum (V. x burkwoodii). Glossy semi-evergreen foliage and fragrant white flowers in spring. 8 or 10 feet tall.

Burning bush (Euonymus alatus, both the 8-foot dwarf and the 15-foot standard). Often mistaken for a Japanese maple for the horizontal branching and fall color.

Doublefile viburnum (V. plicatum). 8 feet tall with wonderful horizontal branches, double rows of lacy white flowers followed by brilliant red fruits and maroon fall color. Have admired it even as a single-trunked tree (at the Royal Botanical Gardens in Burlington, Ontario). Its stems are only marginally hardy in zone 5 so the trunks may die back unexpectedly unless it’s planted in a protected area.

Sargent viburnum (V. sargentii). Resembles a round-headed 12-foot crabapple, with bright red fruits that last into winter.

Shrub juniper (Juniperus chinensis, spreading forms). The initial task of cleaning off the lower portions of selected trunks can be itchy-scratchy work, but the flat-topped, 10-foot evergreen tree that can be made from a full-grown Pfitzer juniper is worth the effort.

Ural false spirea (Sorbaria sorbifolia). 8 to 10 feet tall with arching canes. I like it for leafing out very early, blooming with white sprays in midsummer that repeat if kept deadheaded, and having an overall lacy look. It is a non-stop suckerer, though, so the task of removing new sprouts from the base never ends.

Witchhazel (Hamamelis species and hybrids). 10 feet. The spring-blooming types have fragrant yellow or red-orange flowers in early spring and incredible fall color. Their branching is so clean they don’t even need pruning to look like a small tree.

Yew (Taxus varieties). Graceful, wide-spreading and feathery even in deep shade. The bark can be outstanding, like burnished cherry.

Part of the fun of growing common plants in uncommon ways is being able to answer, when asked about something that catches the eye, “Oh, that! It’s just an arborvitae!”
Part of the fun of growing common plants in uncommon ways is being able to answer, when asked about something that catches the eye, “Oh, that! It’s just an arborvitae!”

Trees as shrubs

Why turn a tree into a shrub? Usually because trees can be purchased large for immediate effect or offer fast growth that shrubs can’t match.

A tree that will ultimately grow to 35 feet, such as Eastern arborvitae, tends to have a faster growth rate than a shrub that will remain shorter, such as boxwood or Hicks yew. So arbs are widely available as tall plants at garden centers. Someone who wants an immediate, evergreen hedge is likely to buy and plant five-foot-tall arbs, then keep them clipped to size. This tree-as-shrub use is so common I won’t even list plants that can be used this way – just look for them in garden books under “hedges.”

Trees such as arborvitae, falsecypress and juniper are also frequently used to make fanciful topiary shapes.

The trees I want to call your attention to are some you wouldn’t normally think to hedge. Even as I list them you may gasp and say, “Oh, how could you put in such a gorgeous plant and then cut it!” To which I would answer, “If you don’t have room for it as a tree, why not have its leaf color or pretty bloom in a smaller space?”

Leaf color is why tricolor beech (Fagus sylvatica ‘Roseomarginata’) and red leaf Japanese maples make a beautiful hedge, rivaling barberry’s color without the thorns. They grow more quickly than you imagine, too. Of course, they can’t handle the wind and extreme temperatures that barberry can, so site such hedges carefully.

Fall color or bloom is another feature worth hedging for. I’ve kept a franklin tree (Franklinia alatamaha) cut to shrub size for four years now, just to have its camellia-like white flowers in September, without having to commit a tree-sized space to the effort. It often is still blooming in October when the leaves take on their outstanding red to purple fall color. Amur maple (Acer ginnala) and sassafras (watch out for its suckering, though!) can also be kept as hedges and light up the fall scene with their red-orange leaf color.

Then there are the trees that offer winter leaf color, and I don’t mean evergreens. English oak (Quercus robur), beech (Fagus species) and hornbeam (Carpinus betulus) grow faster than many evergreen hedge plants and hang onto their juvenile foliage through winter. Kept clipped as a hedge, they tend to have even more than the usual amount of juvenile foliage, which turns parchment color in late fall. The result is a solid, subtly colored hedge, even in winter.

Stay tuned for part 2 coming in late April.

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

Filed Under: Janet’s Journal Tagged With: Janet Macunovich, Janet’s Journal, Unusual Plants

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