Keep the Faith

"Keep your faith in

beautiful things;

in the sun when it is hidden,

in the Spring when it is gone." ~ Roy R. Gibson

A nice little quote in one of those catalogues we get in the winter, tempting us to spend our cash on knick knacks for the home or garden. While I definitely have too many things in the house, I do have faith in the beautiful things I've planted in my garden. Spring is getting close. It tempts us by slipping in and out; waxing warm for a day or two and then dropping to a 24 degree night again. The signs are all around now. The buds at the top of the saucer magnolia are swelling. The perennial's green crowns are pushing up just a little under those gray twigs and narcissus foliage and buds are rocketing up everywhere! The smell of spring isn't there yet. That damp earth, mossy smell is still keeping itself secret under the leaves. The buds on the bigleaf magnolia shown here are still tight, looking like large silver candelabra tips. This one blooms a little earlier and overlapping the blooms of magnolia grandiflora. These flowers are huge, sometimes over a foot across from petal tip to tip. They unfurl, the pointed tips falling outward. The fragrance is somewhat sharper, and more narcotic than grandiflora. We've noticed bees tumbling around in the center, drunk on the nectar. If we don't help them out, they'll die in there. Pretty poison or something else? We've noticed the same behavior with bees and datura , but no dead bees. Winter is less restful for us in the South. Warm days and lots of evergreen shrub choices mean gardening can go on all year without any snow cover. This is good and bad. It's bad, in that frost heaving due to temperature extremes can expose plant roots and they'll have to be pushed back down. It's good, in that we get that dose of green all year and even in January, Spring is not all that far away.

Star Performer

Time and energy have limitations. As I find myself solidly sitting in middle age, I face the fact that it isn't possible to tend to everything equally well. As a single gardener on an acre and a half, I can no longer pretend to be meticulous about maintenance. A certain amount of laissez-faire is required. So OK. Let's look for players that get along fine on their own (mostly), don't need a lot of water, fertilizer or get all pissy about benign neglect. This Bluestar (Amsonia hubrectii) is such a love! Soft fluffy green in the spring with delicate grey-blue flowers and a nice way of pouffing around the siberian iris and the baptisias. It's a nice contrast in the summer to the bolder foliage around it. In the fall, it casts a golden glow all around and shimmers in the late afternoon sun. The bed that contains this plant received only two supplemental waterings all summer, no kidding! The baptisia 'Carolina Moonlight' in the header above is also a good drought tolerant plant. Baptisia australis is also a great performer with varied seasonal interest like great seed capsules and an interesting lead like color in winter. As I have no irrigation system and have to pull hoses around, some beds in the far reaches are going to get less attention than others. These droughts are likely to continue and some plant materials are just too hard to keep looking good. I believe you can plant for beauty and practicality. I'm learning.

Size Matters!

These six-spotted hawk moths have been visiting our ginger lilies the last 4 years, usually in October. Look at the length of that proboscis! You can usually tell in the twilight when they have arrived, as the ginger stalks will be waving back and forth. They literally throw the tube into the blossoms with such vigor that the whole plant appears to be tossed in a breeze. I eagerly wait for this extra reason to be outside in the autumn evenings. This ginger is Hedychium 'Elizabeth' and is fragrant at night. The moths also love the old butterfly ginger Hedychium coronaria.

More light play. This Bigleaf Magnolia has a number of interesting features. I love the way those big leaves capture intriguing shadows at various times of day. The underside of the leaves have a matte, white appearance; sort of a bloom that is very reflective. Mine sits to one side of a swimming pool. When the light hits the moving water, the underside of those leaves reflects a shimmering blue. Absolutely mesmerizing!

As gardeners we attend workshops, meetings and design seminars that describe the interplay of mass, movement, color and form. Selecting a variety of each of these and the artful juxtaposition of them, gives our gardens a certain mood and allows each plant to shine in optimal fashion. One important point that is rarely discussed is the effect of light on our designs. Ornamental grasses are great garden subjects. They can be statuesque, colorful, drought tolerant and fairly low maintenance. I think one of their best features is how they play with light in the garden. This miscanthus 'Cosmopolitan', is great to look at from the front, but from the back at sunset, it simply sparkles! Those fronds capture sunlight and wave in the smallest breeze. I've seen no sign yet that it's an invasive seeder. During the terrible drought in the upstate this summer, this plant stood proudly with just about zero watering from a tired, hot gardener. I'll be adding another couple of these to my beds this year!

Sitting here in winter, looking back, I am reminded how important the trees are to this garden. Providing food, shelter, shade and character, they are the workhorses of the property. They are my stalwart friends of comfort and largesse. Without them, nothing else I plant would make sense. The butterflies love the nectar from these tulip poplar flowers, as do the hummingbirds. In fact, they produce so much nectar, they weep tears of honey in the late spring. Butterfly larvae feed on the tender leaves. Hawks sit in the top to patrol for rodents. The exposed roots on one side of a drainage channel, house a local groundhog. The roots also stabilize the soil in a very slopey garden. So many practical things to notice. On a more romantic note, I love how they ask my eyes to rise up and seek the sky in all seasons. Even in the grey of winter, those skies are worth looking at if you tone down your expectations a little. As I stroll down the hill into the lower garden, the shade deepens and air cools by degrees. I can't imagine a garden in the South without big trees. And for all that, I see these friendly giants being cut down or topped every year, leaving the homes they sheltered naked and baking in the sun. How can a few leaves or twigs falling be worth the loss of energy savings and cool comfort? Yes, some trees were planted in the wrong place and have to be dealt with for safety's sake, but cutting down your channel to blue heaven because you don't want to pick up leaves?