February 2010

Planters Punchlines
Men's Garden Club of Wethersfield
February 2010
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Next Meeting - Monday February 22nd
@ The Pitkin Community Center @ 7:00 p.m.

Ellen Moriarty of Lady Bug Landscaping in Glastonbury, will speak about organic and sustainable gardening methods suitable for our climate. Bring a friend / potential member.

Compostable Matter
By Jim Meehan

A Persian Flaw

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

Joyce Kilmer may have been many things - a writer of rhyme, perhaps a silly person - but he clearly was not a gardener. Had he been, he might have added one more enjambment to his opus.

Yet though He may hath breathed it life

Gard'ners improve it with their knife.

If you ask people why they garden you will probably get reasons such as, to be creative, to learn new things, to meet people, or to get outdoor exercise. But it seems to me that all of these answers just dance around the edges of why horticulturalists really horticult. They do it in order to create their own private floral Utopia - that idyllic kind of place that they personally want to live in - a world in their own image and likeness. In other words, they do it to put the final finishing touches on nature.

Makers of Navajo blankets, on the other hand, purposely weave a mistake into each of their creations. Other artists and craftsmen apparently create similar deliberate defects in their icons, paintings, statues, etc.

It is called a "Persian Flaw".

Legend says that Persian rug makers, being deeply religious, believed that only God could make something perfect. To demonstrate humility before their deity, these carpet crafters deliberately incorporated a small error into each rug. This "Persian Flaw" revealed the craftsman's devotion to the Supreme Being.

Doesn't this act of faked fallibility seem a bit disingenuous? I mean it's like "Sorry. My bad! Didn't mean to be perfect."

I'm a gardener and I belong to a garden club with men of a similar persuasion. Trust me on this one. No disrespect, but there are definitely no "Persian Flaws" in our flowerbeds.

I asked the Internet site Google "should gardens be perfect?" The great Answerer of Queries told me to be more specific. Did I mean "perfect herb garden; perfect vegetable garden; picture perfect gardens; simply perfect gardens; perfect garden tool; perfect home garden; [or] perfect garden party"

Clearly the answer was yes.

Clicking on any one of these suggested shortlists of flawlessness brought up a long list of self-confident websites averring: "The Perfect...", "Creating the Perfect...",
"5 Tips for a Perfect..."

In the real world, if a non-gardener were to check out the backyard of any one of us plantsmen they would see (depending on their mood and biases) either: (a) an out of control herd of plants tripping over each other in a packed-solid, overflowing, tapestry of color and texture, or (b) the Garden of Eden.

Meanwhile what we tenders of the land observe are: the perennial plant that could be moved three inches to the left to provide a more perfect contrast; and that errant weed worming its way through the otherwise pristine splendor; and the branch that needs a partial pruning in order to excise its dead portion or to eliminate its intrusion onto its neighbor; and the underperforming shrub that needs replacement. And we always notice that there is "room for at least one more" - even though we don't know where that room is until we return home with that plant we didn't know we needed until we saw it.

Psychiatrists might suggest that this compulsive quest for horticultural perfection is no more than plain-old delusions of grandeur. Others of a different intellectual bent might consider it a legitimate philosophical pursuit of Platonic Ideals. Our spouses tend to believe that it is just a sneaky way of avoiding real work, and playing in the dirt instead.

Here is what I think. Everybody has his or her own personal strengths and weaknesses. And in many instances the same trait that is someone's greatest asset can also be their greatest shortcoming. And thus it is with "green thumbs" - the outer sign of an inner obsession - the pursuit of perfection that makes all gardeners imperfect.

When Seed Selling Was A Seedling

A Brief History of Mail Order Seeds in the United States
By Carrie Lamont davesgarden.com

We've all gotten them, whether or not we grow plants from seeds: mail order catalogs with pictures of bigger, tastier, vegetables with higher yields and prettier, brighter flowers, if only we use seeds from THIS company. How and when did this all start? Let's go back in time together.

Statesman, inventor, author, and publisher, Benjamin Franklin also had the first mail order catalog in 1744, which sold scientific books from Philadelphia, complete with a money-back guarantee, says Wikipedia. But not long afterward, in January of 1784, Englishman David Landreth established the first mail order seed catalog, and his company still exists today (unlike Benjamin Franklin's). The D. Landreth Seed Co. introduced the zinnia in 1798, the first white potato in 1811, and the tomato in 1820. David and his son went on to help found the Pennsylvania Horticultural Society in 1828.

Judging from the dates of most of the Smithsonian's collection, the 19th century saw an explosion of seed catalogs. It was an exciting time of westward expansion by new Americans. Think of Lewis & Clark's travels to the Pacific ocean, Horace Greely's admonition to "go West, young man," and of Conestoga wagons, of the Transcontinental Railroad (completed in 1869) and of the Oregon Trail. All those people on the move needed seeds in their new homes, didn't they? Starting with the D. Landreth Co. in Philadelphia, mail order seeds were there for them.

You know how excited you feel when those first seed catalogs start to arrive in January, or even earlier. And you probably have internet, telephone, television, and a grocery store and friends nearby. Imagine if your only other reading material was the family Bible! How precious would a book-sized catalog of horticultural information and black-and-white engravings have been? Bostonian Joseph Breck established Joseph Breck & Co. in 1818. His 1840 seed catalog was 84 pages long, a small book packed with information as well as a treasure trove of seeds to be ordered, according to Marca L. Woodhams, at the Smithsonian.

Settlers bought seeds for vegetable gardens to feed their growing families, and as they got established in their new homes, had time to grow flowers too. Seed catalog companies catered to these pioneer farmers' needs and in many cases, created the need. Nobody had ever heard of a love apple (the original name of the tomato) so nobody knew they needed them, at least not before the D. Landreth Co. introduced them. Nowadays, where would we be without our tomatoes? Not just for BLTs but also for spaghetti sauce, pizza, ketchup, chili, salsa-you can see, the list goes on and on.

The D. Landreth Seed Co. and others were key participants in what is known as the Columbian Exchange. Before the Western Hemisphere had regular contact with the Eastern Hemisphere, there was no chocolate in Switzerland, no paprika in Hungary, no tomatoes in Italy and no potatoes in Ireland. Likewise, cotton, sugarcane, and most vegetables other than squashes are introductions to the New World. Seedsmen, as they are still sometimes known, imported seeds from Europe and sold them to settlers, as well as providing seeds from the newly explored territories for expeditions to Asia and the North Pole.

For example, Irish immigrant Bernard McMahon arrived in 1796 and began collecting native seeds and exporting them. His 1804 catalog (pictured at right) listed around 1,000 different plant species for sale. He helped distribute seeds collected by Lewis & Clark.

But some of the names I think of as major players in the mail order seed business today didn't get started quite as early. Beginning in the 19th century, mail order seed companies and catalog seed houses were springing up all over the country. Ferry-Morse was started by Dexter M. Ferry in 1856, and in 1930 merged with C. C. Morse & Co., while Park Seed Company was founded in 1868 (and is still owned by the Park family), and W. Atlee Burpee in 1876.

In particular the Burpee company, now owned by the Ball family, was renowned for introducing new and improved varieties of vegetables every year. Stringless string beans! Iceberg lettuce! Fordhook (bush) Lima beans! According to the Burpee website, W. Atlee Burpee was the first person to hybridize vegetables, catering to the wants and needs of European settlers who found that their European varieties didn't do as well in this new American climate. Of course, now every seed company may claim to have the next greatest seeds.

Seed catalogs and mail order marketing of seeds played an important role in American and world history. Without potatoes from the New World crossing back to the Old World, there would be no Irish Potato Famine in the 1840s and hence fewer Irish immigrants to North America. (And my best friend-my husband-is the child of Irish immigrants, so let's keep him.)

Seed catalogs provided vital connections between the education centers in the eastern part of the U. S. and the frontier settlements which stretched across the West. They are an important part of American history. Luckily, there are a couple of excellent collections of vintage seed catalogs online. One is the Smithsonian's, to which I have already alluded several times. Another is the Ethel Z. Bailey Horticultural Catalogue Collection, curated by Sherry Vance at Cornell.

FYI

"The United Society of Believers in Christ's Second Appearing", a.k.a "The Shakers", are a Protestant religious sect well-known for their handcrafted furniture and baskets. They also were among the first purveyors of home garden seeds and herbal medicines. An exhibit currently at the New Britain Museum of American Art, "Inspired Innovations: A Celebration of Shaker Ingenuity" (Jan. 16 - Apr. 11), includes 350 to 400 examples of their seeds, foods, herbs, and woodenwares industries. Well worth the trip!

Top 10 Perennials
Better Homes & Gardens (bhg.com)

No droopy, mopey petals here, just our top 10 perennials that will keep your garden beautiful for years to come.

By now, you're hooked. Your garden is increasingly a perennial one. Your yearly investment in annuals gets smaller and smaller, and every year more and more of your plantings return in the spring. Who was it who said, "Friends don't let friends plant annuals"? Well, that may be a tad harsh. Because many perennials have shortcomings, especially in the frustratingly short length of bloom time. Most annuals bloom all season long, but your standard perennials -- what, four weeks? Gardeners can have flowering perennials in their yard all season though, as long as they plant a select group of easy-to-grow, long-blooming perennials.

A worthy trade group called the Perennial Plant Association has a yearly "plant of the year" award simply to let gardeners in on this trade secret. The group has picked a perennial annually for 13 years now, beginning with the ground cover Plox stolonifera back in 1990. Here we list the 10 perennial plants of the year -- a decade of all-stars, chart-topping charmers all, a veritable Top 10 of the horticultural world.

Blue Speedwell: Veronica Sunny Border Blue The 7-inch, dark blue spikes of this veronica bob atop a plant that grows low enough that you can actually place it at the front of the border. And when was the last time you saw something this vertical placed way up front?
Bloom Time: Early summer to late autumn. Height: 18 to 24 inches. Hardiness: To 40 degrees F below zero. Light: Full sun to very light shade.

Purple Coneflower: Echinacea purpurea Magnus This prairie wildflower achieves a level of sophistication in the Magnus variety, which throws its petals out horizontally daisy-style, instead of thrusting them downward like a tattered slip. A great cut flower.
Bloom time: Midsummer to early autumn. Height: 2-1/2 to 3 feet. Hardiness: To 40 degrees F below zero. Light: Sun.

Black-Eyed Susan: Rudbeckia fulgida Goldsturm Here's another prairie wildflower that often gets a bad rap because of its overuse. Common, you say? Well, of course! Goldsturm, despite its Czech and German origins, is truly an American icon. And it's an endearing pass-along plant. Plant three and soon you will have seven. Then it's time to share.
Bloom Time: Midsummer to late fall. Hardiness: To 30 degrees F below zero. Light: Sun. Height: 2 to 2-1/2 feet.

Purple-Leaved Beard-Tongue: Penstemon digitalis Husker Red These pink-tinged white flowers and the maroon-red foliage are quite a display in and of themselves. But, really, they pair nicely with almost anything. As with all purple foliage, a backdrop of lighter color foils that "black hole" syndrome.
Bloom Time: Early to late summer. Height: 2-1/2 feet. Hardiness: To 40 degrees F below zero. Light: Sun.

Pink Astilbe: Astilbe Sprite These feathery plumes top fernlike foliage, a wondrously dainty combination. The leaves often take on a bronze cast, making this plant all the more interesting. An aside: kind of thirsty.
Bloom Time: Midsummer to early fall. Height: 18 to 20 inches. Hardiness: To 30 degrees F below zero. Light: Partial sun to full shade.

Blue Pincushion Flower: Scabiosa columbaria Butterfly Blue While this plant does seem to flower forever, it looks kind of lost all by itself, giving you the perfect opportunity to pair it with

Coreopsis Moonbeam: The blue-yellow combo is classic.
Bloom Time: Midsummer to early fall. Height: 12 to 14 inches. Hardiness: To 30 degrees F below zero. Light: Full sun to very light shade.

Blue Perennial Sage: Salvia superba May Night Not to be confused with your herb garden sage, May Night is both cold hardy and showy. The blue-black flower is lustrous and darkly sinister at the same time. Site this so that the coloration does not recede in the distance.
Bloom Time: Midsummer to fall. Height: 22 to 28 inches. Hardiness: To 25 degrees F below zero. Light: Full sun.

Purple Coralbells: Heuchera micrantha Palace Purple Here's a plant with a multitude of virtues. Chief among them is the crinkly multicolored foliage. Really spectacular, especially up front and en masse. The tiny, tiny flowers have their fans, but those folks probably carry power lenses. This plant can really stand up to abuse, too.
Bloom Time: All summer long. Height: 12 to 14 inches. Hardiness: To 30 degrees F below zero. Light: Partial sun to partial shade.

Threadleaf Tickseed: Coreopsis verticillata Moonbeam Maybe Moonbeam coreopsis is not the most impressive weapon in a gardener's quiver, but its soft yellow color and ferny foliage complement absolutely everything.
Bloom Time: Early summer to fall. Height: 16 to 18 inches. Hardiness: To 35 degrees F below zero. Light: Full sun to very light shade.

Russian Sage: Perovskia atriplicifolia This large-scale perennial can tower over garden beds in much the same manner as some of the more imposing ornamental grasses. But Russian sage combines colored foliage with honest-to-goodness flowers.
Bloom Time: Midsummer to fall. Height: 3-1/2 to 4 feet. Hardiness: To 30 degrees F below zero. Light: Full sun.

Trimming and Pruning Ornamental Grasses
thegardenhelper.com

Grasses which die back completely in the winter can be rejuvenated by cutting the entire plant back to within about 3-4 inches of the ground in early spring (and composting the waste material). Don't wait too long, or you risk cutting off the tips of the new seasons growth.
Evergreen varieties which survived the winter in reasonably good condition should not be cut back, but rather just cleaned up in early spring by removing any dead growth and trim off any foliage which shows signs of fungus or disease.

After a few years, the new growth may only appear at the sides of the clump, leaving a naked center. This condition indicates that too much woody, old growth has smothered the room for new growth. It's time to divide and replant your stock.

It is generally best to divide grasses in the spring just as they are beginning to break dormancy. Dig the plant up completely, then cut the clump into divisions with a sharp knife, spade, or if necessary, an axe.

Replant the new divisions in the same manner as a new, container grown plant. You will be surprised at how quickly the grasses root and rejuvenate themselves!

How to Divide and Renew your Ornamental Grass
thegardenhelper.com

No matter which type or size of Ornamental Grass you have in your landscape, there will come a time when it becomes necessary to rejuvinate your plant by dividing and replanting it!.

After a few years of growing, it may become necessary divide your ornamental grass plants. It is generally best to divide grasses in the spring just as they are beginning to break dormancy.
New growth may only appear at the sides of the clump, leaving a naked center.

This condition indicates that too much woody, old growth has smothered the room for new growth. Even if a new shoot emerges from the woody core, there is little chance for it's survival.
Cut off the foliage to about 4-6 inches above the crown. Dig the plant up completely and remove it from the ground.

Cut the clump into divisions with a sharp spade, a large knife, or... if necessary, an axe. Begin by using your spade to cut through the core on one side. Use a second spade to cut the opposite side. The two spades should face opposite directions. Pull the spades in each direction to pry the first divisions apart.

Begin by cutting the clump into halves, then quarters. The first cut will be the toughest because of the hard texture of the core. As it becomes possible, remove smaller divisions from the clump, by pulling them away from the parent plant by hand.

Remove dead or diseased material from each individual division. [This] operation [will result] in a large pile of debris, which is destined for the compost pile.

As well as a good supply of varying sizes of new plants. Even a single stalk will produce a new plant if it has a few healthy roots.

In a few years, each of these divisions will, with luck and care, develop into a healthy, happy specimen plant!

Horti-Culture Corner
From "The Grass" by Emily Dickinson

The grass so little has to do, --
A sphere of simple green,
With only butterflies to brood,
And bees to entertain.

A Host-a Names
Susan Reimer - The Baltimore Sun

Hostas are easy to grow and, apparently, even easier to propagate. There are hundreds of species and thousands of cultivars out there, and they all have to have names.

That's where the hosta growers jump the rails a bit.

It is good for business if a hosta's name is memorable - gardeners readily admit they purchase hostas that share names with loved ones. Or they purchase a hosta with a name that makes them smile.

Garden Variety did a casual survey of hosta names, and we are still laughing.

And we are hungry.

Apparently the propagators were hungry, too, because lots of hostas are named for food: Banana Puddin', Guacamole, Spilt Milk, Cracker Crumbs, Fried Bananas, Key Lime Pie, Fried Green Tomatoes, Sweet Tater Pie and, of course, Blue Plate Special.

Hostas are often named like thoroughbreds, too. The offspring's name is a derivative of the parent's name: Tears of Joy from Tiny Tears; Cathedral Windows from Stained Glass; Stitch in Time from Embroidery, and Singin' in the Rain from Blue Umbrellas.

Hostas are named for television characters: Barney Fife, Andy Taylor and Captain Kirk, as well as TV shows: Northern Exposure. And they are named for holidays: Fourth of July and Night Before Christmas.

There is Surfer Dude and Swamp Thing and Elvis Lives. Red Neck Heaven. White Wall Tires and Swoosh.

Some names recall the bedroom more than the garden: Big Kahuna, Little Stiffy, Get Nekkid, Nooner, Striptease, Feather Boa and Risky Business.

Some suggest a purer kind of love: Her Eyes Were Blue.

And there is my favorite. A blue hosta named, of course, I Bluit.

Elizabethan Garden Q & A
(www.folger.edu)

Q. Did gardeners in Shakespeare's time grow the same kinds of plants we do today and use them in similar ways?

A. Commonly known fruits, vegetables, and herbs were used in ways that would not surprise a contemporary cook, but they were also put to household uses that might today involve a trip to the pharmacy or hardware store. For example, the catalog for the Folger exhibition The Housewife's Rich Cabinet: Remedies, Recipes, & Helpful Hints explains how dill-seed was used to cure hiccups, lettuce to prevent drunkenness, and oregano to prevent an ant infestation. Herbs were used to scent clothing and sweeten breath, and to treat ailments from toothaches to the plague.

Radishes were especially useful. When applied to the soles of the feet with vinegar and salt, they were thought to draw out melancholic vapors. A liquor made from salted radishes could be used to get rid of unsightly warts:

"Anoint your warts 3 or 4 times in a day (the oftener the better), and in 5 or 6 days they will consume away."

Another tipster recommended them as an effective way to eliminate snakes:
"Strike them with a large radish, and one stroke kills them."

That same source suggested a vegetarian solution for driving out moles:
"Take a head or two of garlic, onion, or leek, and put it into their holes, and they'll run out as if amazed."

Filler Plants
(gardening.about.com)

Good garden design relies heavily on the choice of filler plants. Filler isn't a very respectful term, but filler plants can make or break your garden. They need to perform well over a long period of time and complement each other, while highlighting the focal points in your container garden.

Great foliage is often the key to a great filler plant. Colorful or textured foliage provides interest all season.

Fillers: Abutilon (Flowering maple), Agastache foeniculum (Anise Hyssop), Basil, Caladium, Celosia (plume flower), Coleus, Cuphea (Firecracker Plant), Eucalyptus, Euphorbia marginata (Snow-on-the-mountain), Fuchsia, Iresine (Blood-leaf), Lantana, Ornamental Cabbage and Kale, Perilla frutescens (Shiso), Plectranthus, Painted Tongue, Dusty Miller, Persian Shield, Swiss Chard