A Host of Daffodils

Daffodils are blooming in fragrant sweeping waves around the house and down the hill, lighting our woods with a blaze of gold, white and orange, thousands of them; every shape, variety and size from big golden yellow King Alfred, huge frosty white Mt. Hood, pink trumpeted Mrs. Backhouse, fancy doubles and split coronas, to dainty multifloras, miniatures and tiny three-inch tall Hawera. They normally flower in succession starting with February Gold in late January, to orange-centered Poeticus in early May, but winter lasted so long that early varieties were delayed and are blooming along with their on-time midseason cousins. Late season bloomers still hold tight to their buds. Smaller bulbs, ferns  and wildflowers weave a magic carpet at their feet.

 Most of these daffodils are the offspring of a hundred or so bulbs planted in the woods long before we made an actual garden there; when it was still a wild tangle of honeysuckle, euonymous, poison ivy and gooseberry bushes. Bulbs were dropped in holes poked in rocky ground with a heavy pointed bar, and covered with a handful of topsoil. They thrived undisturbed for years, multiplying into huge masses, piling on top of each other so thickly that they stuck out of the ground. As the garden was expanded, some of those clumps were divided, many of them yielding up to a hundred or more bulbs of all sizes. (I’m not exaggerating, I counted!) We replanted them all, scattering bulbs everywhere under trees, singly at first; finally resorting to dropping four or five tiny immature bulbs in the same hole when we ran out of patience. We did this for several years, a clump or two at a time, sticking them in the ground until we were tired and our backs were sore; finally giving away bags and buckets full of them until our friends started avoiding us for fear of being gifted with another load of bulbs.

 

 Many old clumps still need dug, but these days I mostly just pull off the top ones that are above ground to replant. This year I’m thinking they can go under a newly planted row of oak leaf hydrangeas at the end of our property. Daffodil bulbs are toxic, so deer and other critters won’t eat them. I have read that they might serve as a repellent.

 I don’t store harvested daffodil bulbs to plant in fall; when they are dug in June they go straight back into the ground. No fertilizer has ever been applied except what nature gives them. 

 All those young daffodil bulbs have finally matured into flowering size, and they are putting on an exceptional show. Last spring when they were growing, plentiful rains and cool temperatures helped them develop an abundance of buds for this year.

But I have a love-hate relationship with these bulbs that make such a wonderful spring display. I am so thrilled to see them bloom, but then, when their party is over and the flowers are gone, those long strappy leaves keep on growing into big floppy masses that fall all over everything else that is coming up. They need that foliage to grow and provide food for the next year’s buds, however, so they have to be allowed to mature and turn yellow. When gardeners complain that their daffodils don’t bloom very well, it is usually because they are mowed down or cut off right after the flowers are done.
To keep them from smothering and killing their neighbors, tomato cages cut in half or foot-high rings of fence wire are put around the bigger clumps for support until the leaves ripen. I like to do that when they first come up, before they get big and unwieldy. This year bad weather prevented me from getting out there early so not a one is propped up yet. It will have to be done soon, before the leaves start to stretch.

 

 Virginia bluebells have colonized among the daffodils, just starting to bloom this week; another plant which must be allowed to grow and ripen after it flowers, but they are not a problem, disappearing in only about three weeks after the flowers are gone. Woodland phlox will be following soon to add more blue. Bloodroot, trilliums, anemones, Dutchman’s breeches, hepaticas and wood hyacinths are in full flower; wild ginger and crested irises are up and Mayapples are unfurling leafy umbrellas.

 A few years ago I began planting a “stream” of blue grape hyacinths to wander down the slope through the woods, inspired by Keukenhoff Gardens in Holland. My little rivulet is not quite so spectacular as the one pictured there, but I keep adding more bulbs each year, digging them from paths and other places where they have spread underfoot. Grape hyacinths transplant easily, even when in full bloom. I’ve scattered their seeds at the end, so maybe one year soon I too will have a bright river of blue, flowing through the dogwoods, past the giant Solomon’s seal, under the pines and into a “pool” at the bottom of the woods.

You’ll have to excuse me now, the sun is shining and I must see if the apple tree is budding, trailing arbutus is going to bloom, poke around to see what hostas are coming up, and look at all those daffodils some more. It’s spring!





“Every gardener knows that under the cloak of winter lies a miracle …
a seed waiting to sprout, a bulb opening to the light, a bud straining to unfurl.
And the anticipation nurtures our dream” -Barbara Winkler


The Joplin Globe "Speaking of Gardens" column by Sandy Parrill, April 5, 2014 

 

 

 

Lovin' the Natives, Anyway!

After last week’s rant on planting natives, I should make it perfectly clear that I’m all for it, in case anybody takes me to task. I just want to make sure that when I plant them in our own garden, I know what I’m in for.  Just as non-native or Old World plants can become invasive here, so can local natives if they are planted heedlessly. In their natural range, natives are subject to disease, insects, animal predators and grow with other plants that help keep their populations in check. But when a single native variety is planted in a garden and released from the limiting factors that keep it under control, it too can become invasive when provided with fertile soil, plenty of water and room to roam.

That’s a hard lesson I’ve learned as our garden and I get older. One bed must be extensively re-done this spring because it is so infested with native goldenrod, spiderwort, black-eyed susans, blue star grass, and penstemon that other, smaller desirable natives are having a hard time of it. Shooting stars, native sedums, crested irises, and trilliums are being sorely tested. These native invaders have severely crowded non-natives; iris tectorum, lilies, peonies, clematis, creeping thymes, and columbines that I really want there. And they spread seed so wantonly that even with regular deadheading, they shortly get totally out of control. Their deep roots cling tenaciously to this rocky soil, making them really hard to remove, especially after a winter’s growth. They refuse to be pulled, giving up their top leaves like a lizard losing its tail; having to be dug out, disrupting desirables along the way. Inevitably they insinuate themselves into crowns of other plants, replacing them quickly if they aren’t dealt with. I must admit responsibility for some of them, but I blame birds and wind for the rest.

Not to say that they shouldn’t be planted in a garden. Those aggressive natives are beautiful with echinaceas, monardas, daisies, grasses, phlox and others that can compete well in thoughtfully planned beds.

I love them anyway as a mother loves her incorrigible child, but this year they are all going to be banished to a meadow area where they can merrily reseed and I don’t have to deal with them. It’s way too much work. My goal is to make Chaos less labor intensive as we grow older.  I just want to walk down the paths, tell the flowers how beautiful they are, piddle with them a bit, plant some new things once in a while, watch the birds and butterflies; you know, the fun stuff. I have been mostly successful with some areas, and still tinkering with the rest.

I wish some natives were a little more aggressive, especially out in the woods where I keep dividing and transplanting them so they will carpet the ground under the trees with our hostas, hellebores, heucheras, and other shade perennials. Many wild woods plants are spring bloomers; ephemerals that come up early, put on a show, and then disappear until next year. Trout lilies, Mayapples, Dutchman’s breeches, gingers, Virginia bluebells, hepaticas, ferns, false Solomon’s seal, Jacob’s ladder, violets in every color, bloodroot, false rue anemone, and Jack-in-the pulpit grow out here with woodland phlox, a little annual yellow corydalis, that cursed Virginia waterleaf—I don’t divide or transplant that one however—, and too many others to name, all keeping company with thousands of daffodils, crocuses, grape hyacinths, scillas, pushkinias and azaleas that turn the woods into a blaze of color. This garden is a place to visit to see spring in all its glory.

Virginia Bluebells 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pink Dutchman's breeches

 By the end of May, though, most of them are gone and only a green carpet of gingers, Solomon’s seal and ferns remains with the hostas and their perennial companions. Other mostly well-behaved natives and non-natives such as creeping veronicas, golden moneywort, tiarellas, leadwort and succulents take their places for the summer.

I add more spring-blooming natives as I find them. Last year it was trailing arbutus (epigaea repens), loved from the Michigan woods of my childhood. An endangered native of the east coast, it is a low-growing member of the heath family, pink-flowered and sweetly scented. Acidic, humusy soil in an oak forest is its natural environment so it was placed at the foot of a white oak where it lived through last season, though this is probably a bit far west for its range. My hopes are high for it, so three more were ordered this spring, along with pink shooting stars (dodecathion) to join existing clumps of white ones.

Early-blooming native serviceberries have been planted under tall hickories along the south edge of the woods. The fruit is tasty in pies and jam, but I doubt we will get any of the fruits to eat as robins love them better. They are all sprouts from a serviceberry that I once planted closer to the house, not taking into account its suckering ways. Now, those suckers must be dug out each spring to keep them from crowding out a hydrangea that is its bed-mate, and making a serviceberry grove out of the whole area. If I was a harsher mistress of the garden I would pull it out, but I love its delicate white flowers and watching robins plunder the berries in summer.

Planting anything just because the tag says “native” without researching it can cause serious trouble in a small garden. Like with any plant, native or otherwise, find out its habits beforehand to use the right natives for a situation. Plant for wildlife but remember, gardens are for people, too. It’s not fun if the plants make you work too hard.

Many native plants can be found at local nurseries. Missouri Wildflower Nursery will be at area sites this spring including our own Wildcat Glades with plants to sell. Their catalog and schedule is at http://www.mowildflowers.net/


Published in the Joplin Globe, "Speaking of Gardens" by Sandy Parrill   March 9, 2014

 

 

Keeping the natives under control

As much as I do love the native plants, I have learned over the last 25 years that all things must be kept in moderation. After spending all yesterday ripping out a huge patch of Virginia waterleaf (hydrophyllum virginianum) that had gotten totally out of hand--and by no means did I get it all, there are still great drifts of it--(that stuff is endangered in some areas? Really?) it was once again brought home to me that messing with Mother Nature is not to be undertaken lightly, or you may regret what you have wrought. I planted a couple of those plants in my woods about 20 years ago, and for years, it grew to be a nice, flourishing, pretty little patch, lovely spring blooms that the bees love. And then, little by little, it began creeping, then leaping. First thing I know, it's invading the ferns, shoving in among the hellebores, pushing aside the Jacob's ladder, popping up in the middle of the hostas, choking the lilies to death and swarming across the paths and making itself at home in the perennial beds. Besides being rhizatomas, making huge, solid, impenetrable mats that take a mattock to pry loose, it spreads by seeds so no telling where it will turn up. At least 50 feet away from the original patch. I moved a lot of it down to the bottom of the woods where it can spread to it's heart's content without making it's neighbors miserable and I will be working diligently to get it out of all the other areas where it has settled down. I do love it, but enough already!

That said, and while we are on the subject of  planting native, which I fully endorse, a little common sense and observation of nature is in order before you begin. If you see huge drifts of say, Queen Anne's lace along the road, or sweeps of black-eyed susans in a field, that will give you a clue of how they behave when they get established. I have them both in my garden, and usually I try to dead-head them before they go to ripen, leaving only a few to reseed. Some plants can reseed all they want without causing a real problem, like the columbines, of which I don't think there are ever enough, and woodland phlox, which is easily moved if it spreads too far. Spring ephimerals, like trout lilies, trilliums, Virginia bluebells, bloodroot, and hepatica, which belong in a shady woods setting anyway, where they won't be disturbed, can spread all they want without causing a problem. Mayapples, violets, certain ferns, and solomon's seal, beautiful as they are, should not be turned loose in a garden border unless that is all you want to have in a few years time. Native plants are like wild animals; beautiful, sometimes elusive, and we all want them for pets, but they can be terrible and not at all able to be domesticated!  There are many wonderful cultivars of  wild plants which ahave been bred to make good garden plants, and if you want a reasonably tidy garden, those are probably the ones you should seek out. If going totally native is what you're interested in, then neatness in a garden is probably not your style.  Growing native can be a lot of work!

You should also be careful what "native" plants you go for. Learn what is considered a noxious weed in your state, such as Canada and Scotch thistle, some varieties (or all) of lythrum, kudzu, multiflora rose, among others, and also know that they are NOT native plants, but like Japanese honeysuckle, have been imported and are vicious invasive marauders, and in some cases, it is illegal to grow them. Also, some true natives are considered rare and endangered (like the Virginia waterleaf) in some states and may grow prolifically in others.

Knowing your zone is also important. There is probably no way to grow ferns from the Pacific Northwest, in Missouri (ask me, I have tried), or desert sage in North Carolina. What you should look for are plants that are native to the area in which you live. Not only will they look natural in your setting, you will not be introducing a species that might go hog wild and try global domination in your good soil conditions that they wouldn't get where they normally grow. Or, just die because you don't have cool nights, or hot enough days, warm enough winters, too warm winters, or the elevation is wrong.
You will find that there is a lot of overlap between zones, and many wildflowers and lovely natives that grow in Minnesota or Canada will grow as far south as zone 7, possibly 8.  

But regardless of their zone, you probably cannot grow saltwater beach plants in the Ozarks, or freshwater swamp plants on the oceanfront. You need to give them the kind of soil and growing conditions they have in the wild, in order to be successful. But always take with a grain of salt what the books tell you; e.g. those Virginia bluebells? Books say they need moist, cool woodland soil. In my Ozarks plateau woods, they are happily making well-established colonies in rocky, dry soil in our hot summers, reseeding themselves in the gravel paths, between stepping stones, and in odd corners everywhere. They do go dormant in the summer, their beautiful blue bells only a brief spring show, so they never get to be a nuisance. Others, needing a lot of shade in the wild, may grow very well (too well) in part sun if they have extra moisture.

You just can't have them all, nor would you want them in a lot of instances. So do your research, choose wisely, grow native, and enjoy!