Butterfly Weed
I planted some butterfly weed early in the summer and it has totally taken off. It is thriving in dry, sunny soil. Unlike my other praire plants, the rabbits don’t seem to like it one bit.
Autumn Joy Sedum
Oh, Miss Autumn Joy. Everyone has at least two of you in their gardens. I vow to replace you in the spring, but your pink blossoms are a wonderful in fall.
Do have a plant in your garden that never seems to bloom? You know, that one perennial that gets eaten by rabbits, destroyed in a hale storm, or run over by the lawn mower?
Rough Blazingstar, Liatris aspera
Meet Liatris aspera, a native prairie plant known commonly as Rough Blazingstar. I got this beauty from a Greengirls plant swap in 2009. Due to a series of unfortunate circumstances (see above), this late bloomer never got a chance to bloom. In fact, it never got more than six inches tall.
This year, whether by luck or by pluck, I finally outsmarted the elements (okay, I caged it with chicken wire). Now I have four foot tall stalks with some pretty fantastic blooms. Bees and butterflies can’t get enough of this plant.
In Minnesota, late bloomers at wonderful interest to a garden, but can be really frustrating for the gardener who needs instant gratification (eh hem, like me). The other native species of Liatris in my rain garden (Liatris mucronata, Texas gayfeather), bloomed two months ago.
So, what late bloomers do you have in your garden? How do you protect these plants all season so you can enjoy them?
The monarchs are back!
I have a confession. I love milkweed — the fuzzy leaves, pink star-shaped flowers, and rough seed pods. They remind me of summer camp Helmer Myre State Park. We’d find an old pod, marvel at the silky fibers, then run through the fields. We’d watch as seeds slipped through our fingers and took flight in the summer air.
I guess you could say that I was an easily entertained third grader.
I know there are better behaved, more aesthetically pleasing members of the Asclepiadaceae family, but I simply do not have the heart to pull these out. They are the primary food for the monarch caterpillar.
The caterpillars start out as ravenous little stripes. In a few weeks, they are fat and happy. If I am lucky, I catch one as it builds a bright green chrysalis, but I’ve never seen one emerge as a full grown orange butterfly.
This year, I’ve counted three. I hope they all make it.
Tray of Misfits
Yes, we’re about half-way through the growing season and I STILL have seedlings that need to get into the ground.
Every morning this hodgepodge of misfits greats me from the back steps, just a few feet from the nearest garden bed, but miles away from actually getting into the ground. Brussels sprouts, black cherry tomatoes, blue fescue, lupines, and a orange impatient (given to me for my birthday ON MAY 9) have lived in this tray for at least two months while I decide their fate.
I feel terribly guilty, but I have good excuses and good intentions. Really. I do.
As of this post, the tomatoes are with a colleague who raises beef with her husband. Every year on their farm, they plant a few acres with veggies and donate the produce to a local food shelf. In a month, they’ll have black cherry tomatoes coming out of their ears.
I am saving the sprouts for Cowgirl Nikie who has extra room in her garden. Will they actually produce sprouts? I’m doubtful, but she is known for growing GIANT veggies. She’ll appreciate the challenge.
The lupines and fescue? They’re natives that I started from seed. I just want them to be a bit bigger before I put them in the ground. Our rabbits are hungry and relentless.
I have no idea what to do with the impatient.
So, are you a procrastinator, too? What garden to-dos have you been neglecting?
Cold treating prairie lupine seeds
In our home, March Madness has nothing to do with hoops, balls, pep bands, or face paint. It’s not a competition with between Big Ten rivals or small southern baptist schools. It’s a battle between northern gardeners and our short growing season. The cheating isn’t on the court or in the classroom, but in our basements and backrooms, under the quiet hum of grow lights.
One thing we gardeners and b-ball players have in common? We’re all trying to beat the clock, to savor sweet victory against unspeakable odds.
It begins with a bag of potting soil, a few seed packets, and a bad case of spring fever. If I succeed, I start the growing season with healthy seedlings — and the hope of an early heirloom tomato, a rare prairie flower in bloom, or some serious bragging rights. If I fail, it all ends with an unceremonious walk of shame to the compost pile. Broken dreams decaying with forgotten take-out dinners and freezer burned bread.