Ads proudly proclaim: The Only Azalea That Blooms Spring, Summer & Fall!
Well, I disapprove.
Azaleas are minor miracles in northern gardens when, after many months of short days and snow-covered landscapes, they come alive with flowers in dazzling shades of rose, coral, pink and pale lavender. Who needs--or wants--that effervescence in summer? Who needs--or wants--blossoms that would seem garish and totally out of place against the background of fall leaf change?
While spending time in northeastern Oklahoma last winter, I attended the Garden Fair at the Tulsa Garden Center and listened to a horticulturist speak about soils. It was a wonderful and passionate presentation, mainly. At one point, he excitedly referred to Encore Azaleas and the audience erupted with cheers and claps.
I wanted to boo.
What are Encore Azaleas?
Encore Azaleas are evergreen azaleas that came about when, as usual, a plant breeder was fiddling around. Robert E. "Buddy" Lee developed azaleas that bloom at the normal time in spring and then set flowers buds on new growth which will open later during the same season. They are a cross involving a Taiwanese summer-blooming azalea, Rhododendron oldhamii. The plants are hardy to Zone 6.
In container gardening–whether indoors or out–drainage is crucial to the health of the plants.
And convoluted drainage is the reason I intensely dislike the newfangled plastic pots sold as hanging baskets.
For decades the most common pot had a saucer, albeit an ugly saucer, with prongs that attached to holes in the bottom of the pot. Even if the container and saucer was left intact, watering and draining was easy. All one had to do was tip the whole thing sideways and excess water drained out of the saucer.
My method was even simpler. As soon as the basket came home with me, I ripped off the saucer and tossed it. I used to save them thinking, someday, I might want to dress up my hanging baskets when company visited. Eventually, though, even the stack of saucers was pitched.
What happened? Perhaps consumers complained that water dribbled onto their Berber carpet and product engineers were put to the task of developing a new, improved, drip-proof pot.
If the hanging baskets I've bought in the last couple years are the new standard, I don't approve. Manufacturers dreamed up names for the fancy features including "water reservoir" and "internal capillary dish." For me, they are merely obstructions to good drainage and increase the likelihood of overwatering.
The new pots have a hole in the center of the bottom that is higher than the surrounding area. Water collects in that area and only drains out when the space is full. Even if I tip the pot sideways, it only drains from one part of the bottom. I have to tip it all different ways…not an easy feat with a huge ivy in a 10-inch pot. Water drips down my arm and gets my sleeve wet and the ivy messes up my hair!
The final, most pitiable aspect of the new pots? They have an indentation around the bottom of the pot that is supposed to indicate a saucer.
I've tried different things to make these pots work and so far, no good. I have one last idea inspired by Tim Allen. Plug in the electric drill, install a big bit and make my own holes.
Ok, I have to comment. Trees, due to poor planning and/or stupidity by humans, can look ridiculous.
Yesterday I noticed a paper birch (Betula papyrifera) which, through no fault of its own, had been planted under a power line. Instead of a magnificent specimen reaching to 50' or more in height, the top half of the tree was lopped off.
Far too often I see another absurd site while traveling along an interstate, state highway or even a county gravel road: the interior branches of an entire row of evergreens have been sheared off because they were planted too close to a power line. They resemble a movie set for a western–a mere fa?ɬßade.
Perhaps a single person can't do much about the millions of one-sided trees across the country but individual homeowners can set an example and put neighbors and passing motorists out of their misery.
Chop the tree down! Buy another tree and follow my first Dazzle Garden Rule: plant the right plant in the right spot. Know the mature height and width of the tree and plant accordingly.
It is sometimes hard to imagine that such a slender, wispy seedling will grow into a 200' tall white pine (Pinus strobus). With good luck and good care, though, that majestic tree will live several hundred years in that new, perfect spot.
If you're contemplating the addition of a rose plant to your garden, insist on scented cultivars. I'll never understand horticulturists who breed rose plants with admirable attributes like spotless foliage and season-long flowers but ignore fragrance. What's the point?
Catalogs and magazines are full of representative photographs. I've been shown slide after boring slide at seminars and symposiums. Many gardeners rave.
But not me. Have you noticed? The trend has been on the rise and is now, perhaps, reaching its apogee. Lush container gardens are full of plants but they are all foliage plants. There are no flowers!
Plants grown primarily for foliage have a definite place in garden design. Hostas, ferns, ivies, coleus and ornamental grasses are all attractive plants. But after six months of winter, I want to see flowers. I need to see flowers.
Let's hope this fad, as with many others, soon fades. In the meantime, plant flowers!
Houseplant conjures up such dreary images… • dusty African violets on a lace doily. • a snake plant in a crusty pot on the floor (the only living plant in my husband's bachelor house). • a cast iron plant languishing in a dark corner.
Instead, when I look at the plants in my home, I see… • lush ivies trailing over the edge of a fluted, cast iron (as it should be!) container. • from the top shelf of a bookshelf, long tendrils, curling almost to the floor, of a shiny philodendron. • a delicate maidenhair fern in a beautiful stone container on another shelf. • in the corner hanging between two windows, a frothy, frilly asparagus fern. • a plant usually reserved for summer container gardens, Euphorbia 'Diamond Frost', producing masses of pure white flowers.
These plants speak to me of gardens. They are the plants I grow in my indoor garden. From now own, they are indoor garden plants.
Hey! The holidays are over now so all relevant décor should be removed. I'm sick of Santas and red bows! It's January and time to move on.
Before you dash about ripping everything down, let's be sensible. I'm advocating the removal of "holiday-only" decorations, including, but not limited to, the previously mentioned red bows and Santas, stockings, partridges in pear trees, elves, sleigh bells and anything red.
Here are some simple ideas to nicely transition outdoor décor from holiday to winter.
• Wreaths, Containers and Window Boxes. Remove holiday-themed ornaments, shriveled berries and yellowed or dried evergreens. Replace with branches of delicate birch, curly willow or yellow-twigged dogwood, fresh pine and spruce boughs or dried blossoms of hydrangeas.
• Themes and Colors. With the holiday bric-a-brac now back in storage, the decorations that are winter oriented can remain: snowmen and snowwomen, snowflakes and pine cones. Choose a color other than red. Try neon bright spring colors, rich warm tones, or sparkly silver and gold.
• Lights. Keep the lights on! Just be prudent…you're not trying to land an airplane. Some lighting on trees and buildings is cheerful for long, winter nights.
Recently I noticed the lovely site of a border of shell pink shrub roses in full bloom. As I always do, I bent over to breathe in an intoxicating fragrance. But instead I smelled nothing. There was no scent at all!
Breeding is big business in the horticulture industry (only Snow White could have missed the debut of much-ballyhooed hydrangea, 'Endless Summer') but sometimes the goals become skewed. Selections to improve color, form, longevity of bloom and disease resistance are all wonderful but should never, in my opinion, be at the expense of fragrance. Scent should be an equally important attribute and consideration.
Breeding snafus don't just happen to flowering plants but to fruits and vegetables also. We've all bought tomatoes that looked perfect but had no flavor. Every spring, I'm a sucker for those huge California strawberries that look delicious but taste like cardboard. Selective breeding has produced a berry that is big, bright red and travels well but completely lacks in that quintessential strawberry sweetness and juiciness.
There's not much one can do about it–fighting City Hall and all–but I do protest in my own small way. I'll never buy a rose that has no fragrance.
We're all bound to some degree by our professions. Hair stylists notice hair. Dentists notice teeth. I notice gardens.
Generally it's extremely pleasant and even educational but when I see a good practice gone awry, I get irked.
Have you ever driven by a landscape where every evergreen–spruce, fir, pine–has the lower several feet of branches pruned off? The trees look silly and deformed, like stiff gumdrops on pegs. Sure, it's easy to wheel around the entire yard, never getting off the riding lawn mower and never worrying about those pesky branches that hang too low. But that homeowner has traded away, forever, the aesthetic appeal of the trees in exchange for a small amount of time. Plus, ironically, by allowing more light and air to the base of the trees, the homeowner is actually facilitating weed growth.
Evergreens will naturally drop needles which in turn produce a rich organic layer of mulch that in the short term will inhibit weed growth and will help retain soil moisture and in the long term will slowly break down and replenish the soil. Isn't that cool? Plants have developed their own way to ensure their needs are met.
One final thought. Conifers grown in a natural forest setting where there's competition for sunlight will eventually loose their lower limbs but one of my favorite sights is, in full sun, a specimen white pine with long, sweeping, graceful lower branches intact.
