Starting an Organic Garden

I've been an organic gardener for so long that I can't even imagine growing plants the conventional way. I wrote a short essay about starting an organic garden for Main Line Gardening that I think you will enjoy. Please click the link below to read the full essay. Don't forget to look at the home page of their site - they often have contests with cool garden giveaways, and their store has wonderful English-made gardening tools and accessories (I love it; can you tell?)

Here's the link to the essay:


Landscape, Landscaping and Gardening Advice For the Main Line

Landscape, Landscaping and Gardening Advice For the Main Line

I've been an organic gardener for so long that I can't even imagine growing plants the conventional way. I wrote a short essay about starting an organic garden for Main Line Gardening that I think you will enjoy. Please click the link below to read the full essay. Don't forget to look at the home page of their site - they often have contests with cool garden giveaways, and their store has wonderful English-made gardening tools and accessories (I love it; can you tell?)

Here's the link to the essay:


Landscape, Landscaping and Gardening Advice For the Main Line

Help from the Potato King of Pamplin

Well, it's official: the watermelon bed in the vegetable garden is now officially the potato bed. After two years of disappointing watermelons and last year's success with the sweet potato crop (beginner's luck I am sure), we decided to grow more root vegetables and stop growing melons and squash. Between the swarms of hungry squash beetles laying their eggs and devouring the plants, the heat and the drought, I'd rather spring for a few bucks worth of zucchini at the Farmer's Market in Farmville (yes there really is such a town, and I live near it) than struggle again with my crops.

When it came time to plant potatoes, John and I visited our neighbors M and J. I have nicknamed M the Potato King of Pamplin, which makes him blush and makes J, his wife, laugh.  But what else would you call a man who created a huge root cellar in his basement to hold basket after basket of gorgeous Yukon Gold potatoes?

I don't know how many potatoes M plants each spring, but he gathered hundreds of pounds of potatoes in the fall.  When we stopped by for a visit a few weeks ago, I asked Mfor advice on planting potatoes. I'd bought a bag of Russet seed potatoes at the garden center but M quickly ran down to his basement and returned with a bag of his very own Yukon Gold seed potatoes and a bag of sulfur for us.  Sulfur, he said, would keep the bugs away.  He showed us how to dip the seed potatoes into the sulfur bag,  "like Shake n'Bake" he said,  and told us the proper way to plant potatoes.

We got the potatoes into the ground last weekend.  Half of the bed contains M's gorgeous little Yukon Gold spuds, grown only a few miles from here, and the other half has the pieces of the Russet seed potatoes.

According to the Potato King, there's really not much else we need to do except hill the potatoes or push some soil up over them once they sprout.  Cover them if we anticipate a freeze, he said, or the freeze might kill the new green growth.

Mother Earth News has some good information on planting potatoes, if you are interested.

So far, so good. Our plan to transform the vegetable garden by growing what we have learned does well out there - root crops, greens and beans primarily - is underway.  The onions are growing by leaps and bounds, and the garlic shoots M and J gave us have taken root. Beets are up to two leaves and looking happy and healthy.  Rain and showers over the next several days should water everything in nicely, and hopefully I will share pictures of the REAL potatoes soon! (today's images are thanks to Morguefile.com)

And thank you to the M team for your constant generosity of time, spirit and gardening stuff!

Surprise Frost

We got so spoiled by the 70 and even an 80 degree days that the snow showers and heavy frosts on Sunday and into Monday night seemed like a surprise. Technically though the calendar still says March 29, and we are zone 6b or 7 (depending on the year and weather patterns), which means don't get complacent with the garden!  Luckily the raised beds in the vegetable garden area do keep the soil temperature slightly warmer than the ground temperature.

Our neighbors and friends, the Hertzlers, gave us some heavy gigantic windows from a gymnasium their construction company remodeled.  The big metal-framed windows need two people to carry them over to the beds but they made an instant cold frame and protected my seedlings quite nicely.  This morning we checked on them and moved the windows off since today will be sunny, and I don't want to cook that chard just yet.  The seedlings all looked perky and happy.  So far, I have broccoli rabe, Swiss Chard Bright Lights, fancy gourmet lettuce and radish seeds, and beet seedlings all up and running.  I think the horse radish made its debut today, although the single leaf could be a weed. I had a giant weed plant in my herb bed hiding under the oregano.  I plucked a leaf and gave it to John - "Here, smell this, is it lemon balm or oregano?"

"Neither," he frowned. "I don't smell anything."

After swearing it "had" to be oregano, I realized that some obnoxious weed had crept into the herb bed and settled down.  It was the same size as both the lemon balm and oregano - both several years old at this point - so I assumed it was an herb I'd forgotten.

Out went the weed, but I'm still wondering what THAT tea would have tasted like!

Rain, Rototillers, and Waiting for Plants

Sometimes I think spring should be called the "hurry up and wait" season. I love spring; don't get me wrong. What gardener doesn't love spring, or for that matter, who doesn't love spring after a winter of ice, slush and snow? March entered not like a lion but like a lamb, bringing unseasonably warm weather to Virginia.  My peach trees are in bloom alongside the pears, and I'm grateful that the trees were buzzing with bee activity.  Maybe, just maybe, we'll get some fruit this year, although the trees are still very young.  Everything is blooming - tulips, daffodils, crocus, forsythia, heather, peach trees, pear trees, Redbud trees.  Even the grass has taken on a twinkly emerald hue as the frequent rains and thunderstorms bring much needed moisture before the heat parching begins in a few months.

We managed to find a neighbor willing to lend us a rototiller; thankfully, they had two, a narrow one which we borrowed and a big one which they plan to use.  Thank you Joan and Mel for your kindness and generosity to us!  After a frustrating session last weekend where my sudden inspiration to actually read the directions printed on the handle got it started (don't ask; starting this rototiller is like an evil game of Twister, only if your foot slips it's going under the blade. The engineer who designed this thing had a sadistic mind.)  We got the areas near the existing flower beds rototilled, with just one area left near the entrance to the driveway left to weed...and yes, there are more big, ugly, thorn-filled, nasty bramble bushes, ragweed and you name it left in this pile.  Its days are numbered.

Not my weeds, but might as well be!

And that's where we're stuck in terms of getting outside work done.  The plants I ordered from the mail order catalog not only aren't here yet but their phone isn't answered. I managed to get hold of customer service via email, who keeps telling me my order is with the shipping department, but they can't give me a better idea of shipping times.  Every time we decide "tomorrow is the day we will tackle the last weed pile", it rains.   Same for the pathways in the garden, which require us to haul out the cement mixer and mix fresh mortar.   I keep looking longingly at the paths, but every time we start thinking about finishing up the edging, rain is predicted.  And you can't dry cement in the rain!

Rain might be a good thing, however, since rainy weekends means the house gets cleaned...and spring means the pets are shedding.  Shadow, the long haired German Shepherd dog, has begun the annual spring shed, which means gigantic tumbleweeds of dog fur the size of guinea pigs in the corners and on the rug.  I stocked upon vacuum cleaner bags and the current one is already half full; normally they last months, but at this time of year, thanks to the annual fur shedding, I could keep the company in business alone through my orders.

Spring is here, rain, dog fur, weeding and all.  Come to think of it, I'm sort of in the mood to clean....well, about as in the mood as I ever get to clean.....but that will bring me full circle back to weeds and dog hair, so I think I'll hide in my office and do more work and writing today.

Happy spring! What's on your gardening agenda this weekend?

Celebrating the First Day of Spring in Pictures

Bluebird in vegetable garden

I'll let these photos speak for themselves.  Welcome, Spring. Cast your green mantle speckled with flowers upon the Earth. We welcome you with open arms!

Peach trees in bloom in the orchard....

Flowers greeting you as you step on to my porch.

Poppy Fascination

I've loved poppies since spying the rare Himalayan blue poppy at a botanical garden in New England many years ago while on vacation. I had a postcard purchased at the gift shop there pinned to my bulletin board at work along with photos from other gardens so that my Manhattan office could look pretty!

Poppies never grew well for me on Long Island and the blue poppy only grows in cold climates, but the first year I cultivated the flower garden next to the driveway here in Virginia, I bought a cheap package of 20 cent poppy flower seeds from Wal Mart and sprinkled them on a little bit of hillside next to the foxglove. I forgot all about them until weeks later, a nodding pink-red flower with delicate, fluttering paper-thin petals and attractive foliage peeked out from the shelter of some Echinacea that dominated the bed. I ran to my plant encyclopedia to look it up and was surprised to learn that it was my poppies, all grown up and blooming! Since then, I have added poppies to the garden each year.  I have two varieties of exquisite large red and pink poppies started from seeds under the plant lights in the basement. These will go into the rose bed, which is rapidly becoming the "whatever roses live" bed, to supplement the straggly dying roses. And of course, I've got my 20 cent Wal Mart seeds again.

Poppies fascinate me because they have been cultivated since antiquity. I'm still reading that book about the Gardens of Ancient Egypt and poppies played a significant role in their culture. They grew them as ornamental flowers outside of their templates, and some were found in the tombs of the dead.  They are listed among flowers used to make bouquets for worship too.

The Romans used poppies in their funeral rites as well as the Egyptians. I can't help but think of Flanders Field - and the use of poppies in modern times to symbolize the fallen heroes of our time.  I always give as much as I can to the veterans selling poppies outside of the stores in November and hang the paper poppies in my car.  I say a little prayer of gratitude for freedom and for our military when I see the poppy.

One little flower holds so much significance, doesn't it? Flowers tend to do that, along with trees, shrubs and other plants. I suppose it's because so many flowers have a lengthy history of cultivation and enjoyment. Poppies are one such flower.

Will you grow poppies this year?

Planting Peas and the Folklore of Peas

Plant your peas on St. Patrick's Day....longtime readers of my blog know that every year, St. Patrick's Day reminds me not of the good Irish saint nor of Irish things but of Mr. Hoffman, my next door neighbor in Floral Park, who taught me so much about gardening when I was a little girl. He was like an adopted grandfather for me and on St. Patrick's Day, I'd race home from school to find him ankle deep in his old workboots in the muddy field next to his garage where he grew so many vegetables.  He'd hold a paper sack in his left hand and neatly drop peas into long furrows in the mud. Weeks later he would knock on our back door and hand my mother a giant pot of pea pods.  I'd sit on the back stoop and shell the peas, pushing the sweet tender peas into a collander so that my mother could rinse them.

One year, my elderly grandma who lived with us tried to cook the fresh peas in the pressure cooker. I do not remember this but my father told the story over and over again. Poor grandma either shouldn't have cooked peas in the pressure cooker or she did something wrong because the steam blew the lid right off the pot, spraying green pea mush all over the kitchen!  Took days to clean it out and I think my dad had to repaint the ceiling!

I write regularly for MainLine Gardening, a lovely upscale garden center and design service out of the Philadelphia area. Today's essay is all about peas - from my memories of Mr. Hoffman to some tidbits and folklore I picked up by searching online. The photo today is stock photography from Morguefile.com, alas not from my garden. I have little baby onions peeking up through the soil today but I did not grow peas this year.  Sorry, Mr. Hoffman.

Enjoy the essay - Planting Peas on St. Patrick's Day.

Seed Starting Update and Some Thoughts

We've been working diligently at the weedy mess at either end of the long flower beds that flank the driveway, and have the battle scars to prove it. Given an inch, blackberry canes, wild sumac trees, and all types of invasive weeds take a yard. Literally. We had to take a pick axe to the ground to dig up the roots. I'm happy to report that we have at least cleared away the detritus around the pallets of stones for the walkways. The next step is to borrow or rent a rototiller and make sure that all the roots of the plants are taken care of.  We weeded the areas at the back of the garden too for good measure, clearing and placing big chunky mulch around the wisteria and forsythia. We even used landscape fabric on several sections to keep weed seeds from sprouting.  No more weeds!

We have lots of plants on order this spring. Our idea is to plant as many ground covers as we can among the perennials so that weeds won't stand a chance. I have on order a grab bag of perennials, several trees including weeping cherry and magnolia, and ground covers including sedum, phlox, and Mother of Thyme or "walk on me" plant.  Drought tolerant and deer-resistant sedum should survive in the back of the garden where nothing else grows; phlox will cover the hillside; and I have no idea where my hubby wants to put the Mother of Thyme. In other spots in the garden, I've got pink Oenethera (Evening Primrose) running amok, so I'm going to have to dig some of that up and move it about.  I think I will plant it on the edge of the woods and see what happens.
 In the vegetable garden, horseradish, onions, beets, various lettuce, radishes, broccoli rabe and Swiss Chard seeds are all sown, and the strawberry plants divided and replanted to spread them out. Now we await only the warmer spring weather to add the rest of the vegetables. I have several heirloom bean seeds on order, good for storage and cooking, and potato sets for russet potatoes to get in.  We are waiting until the local Southern States has sweet potatoes and asparagus plants and I am converting a bed into asparagus.

Inside the house, all five seed trays have shown life.  I have perennial seedlings now including Gaillardia, Echinacea, Poppies, Penstemmon, Monarda, and yellow Missouri Primrose.  Vegetables that are already thriving include several types of tomatoes, parsley and basil. I'm surprised that my pepper seedlings haven't emerged yet, but I planned to supplement any seeds that aren't doing well with plants from the garden center, along with one or two plants such as eggplant. We don't eat enough eggplant to justify seed starting, but it's not expensive to add a few to the garden.

All in all, things are going well.  Last week we had two inches of rain - two inches!  If we get a little rain each week, the garden and I will be happy.

*   *   *

Like you, I've been drawn to the television set and the images streaming out of Japan. I find it difficult to comprehend entire villages, families, livelihoods washed out to sea and gone in the blink of an eye.  Give thanks now for what you have. This morning I stumbled over pet toys on the bedroom floor - Pierre had dragged up his fuzzy black baby, his jingle mouse and a few soft toys and left them in my path.  After tripping over them and stubbing my toe on the dresser I got angry. Then I stopped and gave thanks. Thanks that I am alive and well and have a healthy, mischievous cat who leaves toys everywhere. I am grateful for my blessings and I invite you to express your gratitude today too.

Eastern Bluebirds: Do We Have Tenants Yet?

Our friend Phil gave us a cedar bluebird house two years ago, and John mounted it on a post on the edge of the vegetable garden.  We fenced off the raised beds to keep hungry deer and other creatures from devouring the plants, and the posts make a great spot for the bluebird house.  From my plant room on the Eastern side of the house where I sit for morning meditation, prayer and coffee (hopefully in that order), I can watch the bluebirds dart in and out of their house. They are so lovely and funny at the same time, and their sweet, warbling trills are the sound of spring to me.

We took down the bluebird house in the fall to clean it out. They had layered nests in it so it was a good thing that we did. It's as if instead of tearing down your old house and building a new one on the lot, you just piled a new house on top of the old!  The nesting material was to the top of the little opening.

John cleaned it out, then had the idea to make new houses. He used Phil's as a template, which was the easy part. The hard part was getting my dad's old table saw, dusty and unused for the past decade, to work again.  Finally the happy sound of a table saw and the rich tang of cedar and pine dust filled the air.  Hammering, sawing, and a triumphant shout from the cellar an hour later, and John emerged with another bluebird house.

We've hung the second house far enough away from the first, we hope, so the two families won't mind one another.  It's on a pine tree on the edge of the big clearing, a great spot for bluebirds. They love to perch atop the fence posts around the vegetable garden and dart down to the ground to snag an insect or two. Because I use only organic gardening methods, I don't worry that they're getting a beakful of pesticides with every beetle or insect they munch. And hopefully they will munch plenty!

This morning as I sat in my plant room watching the rain wash the garden, the bluebird returned. They darted in and out of the old house as if they were young married couples with a real estate agent comparing properties.  An hour later I was at the kitchen table eating breakfast. The kitchen windows also face East and the vegetable garden.  I saw more bluebirds perched on top of the fence posts and a male flew over to John's newly made nest box. He didn't go inside yet, but sat on top and look down, cocking his head as if curious about the new box.  I hope we have tenants soon!

We found a very inexpensive cedar bluebird house at Lowe's yesterday, which will be placed on a pine tree at the back of the flower garden next to the driveway. Like all of our bluebird houses, it will face south, and I hope that it has tenants soon, too.  The sooner my bluebirds come, the sooner spring arrives...and the sooner I recruit my volunteers to eat up all the insects plaguing the garden!

For more about the Eastern American Bluebird, visit Cornell University. 

Gardening in Harmony with Nature

One change I've noticed in my behavior since moving to the country from the city is that I'm starting to adapt to nature's rhythm and timing. It's as if I'm becoming more in tune with the seasons and gardening in harmony with nature rather than fighting against it.  Instead of trying to force the vegetable plants earlier under cold frames, I'm waiting until the soil feels warm to the touch; instead of ticking off dates on a seed planting calendar, I'm walking around the orchard and noting the swell of the pear and peach tree buds and planting the cool weather vegetables accordingly.

Nature has its own timing and pace. Yesterday afternoon John and I took Shadow for a walk.  The sunlight was warm but the breeze was cool. We walked past our neighbor's huge cattle farm. It is several hundred acres of rolling green hills dotted with a large herd of pure and mixed Black Angus cattle.  There's one mama we nicknamed "mean Mommy" not because of her behavior but because she has white markings on her face that make her look like she's scowling all the time.  Well, Mean Mommy had her calf this week. A tiny, fuzzy little future bull frolicked by her side.  Each day this week we noticed more and more calves joining the herd. You can spot them a mile off by their spindly little legs and furry baby coats and their silly bovine behavior.  They jump and leap for joy, and just as suddenly collapse in a heap of exhaustion, snuggling up to whichever cow is closest while Mama gazes patiently from across the field.

John asked me if I knew whether cattle gave birth during specific times. Did they have more babies at night or during the day? I had no idea.  Watching the newborn calves at play, and listening to the trilling burble of bluebirds returning to the fields after their winter hiatus, I began to realize that all around me nature unfolded her patterns according to her own plan. We think we've got nature all figured out though, don't we? We learn every day about new advances in science that do miraculous things. 

Yet I can't help but marvel at the soft fuzzy muzzle of the calf, the delightful song of the bluebird, the daffodils breaking the hard clay soil among the apple trees in the orchard.

I find myself watching the weather reports, noting the moon phases, and planting according to both - but more based on weather than anything else.  Yesterday I spent a few minutes and planted beet seeds, broccoli rabe, Swiss chard, various lettuces and radishes, all to take advantage of another weather front moving in that promises a day and a half of rain.  Rain; we live by this rhythm of water, the soft sound of rain and the way it nurtures the garden.

Gardening in harmony with nature makes me slow down. This spring, I feel more connected to the gardens here at Seven Oaks than ever before, as if I am slowly but surely coming to know a little bit of this land, and it of me. 

Signs of Spring: Spring Flowers

Purple crocus

Today's photos are dedicated to people living in areas where spring isn't even peeking over the horizon yet. I stepped outside and photographed my garden. Please enjoy these signs of spring,

Peach tree blossoms swollen against a blue March sky

 

 

 

 

 

Forsythia, like golden bells blooming in a hedge

Planting Horseradish

It's been a long, cranky kind of day, capped off by doing the business accounting and taxes - as you can imagine not the kind of "Gee! Can't wait to do that again next month!" kind of office activity I love(er, loathe).  I have half an hour before I need to post my last story for the day, and then it's off to dinner, errands and choir practice.  But before I rush to the next set of tasks, I thought I'd update you on the progress of the vegetable garden.

I've been so consumed with tales of the flower garden lately that I nearly forgot to mention that we finished topping off each of the raised beds with compost - all 10 of them are done!  On Saturday, I planted 80 yellow onion sets and my very first horseradish roots.  The weather report looked grim for Sunday and indeed, we had pouring, "somebody in heaven turned on the faucets and forgot to turn them off"  kind of rain all day, so it was a good thing I got those horseradish roots in early.

Here in the south, we've had a hard time finding horseradish in the supermarkets but back on Long Island where I used to live horseradish was in the deli case next to the pickles and other deli-style condiments.  Now it's growing in my backyard. I hope.....

I bought a boxed set of roots and after a few false starts, we patted down the long, pencil-stick roots into the soil. One of the roots looked like a centipede with legs sticking out, but the legs were actually small roots.

According to a horticultural extension website I found,  you're supposed to plant your horseradish in a spot where it can grow about two feet deep and just leave it. That's it.  Keep it watered and in about a year I can dig up my horseradish root, grate it, and enjoy it with a pot roast (okay, I added that part, but that's how we love our horseradish!). 

In my research for information about horseradish, I found a group called the Horseradish Council (I kid you not. Seems like in this day and age, there's a council or group for everything.)  The humble horseradish has been cultivated for over 3,000 years, and at one time or another, it was viewed as an aphrodisiac, a cure for rheumatism, and more. I was happy to see that my friends, the ancient Egyptian gardeners of whom I continue to read in my new book, cultivated horseradish too.  Seems like everyone from the ancient Jews to the Egyptians and beyond enjoyed horseradish!

Now it lies sleeping under the compost, well watered by yesterday's deluge. I have no idea what to expect. I planted it in the herb bed, next to the catnip so that if Farmer Pierre's catnip crop takes over, it can battle it out with the horseradish. Sort of an animal theme going on there - horse radish versus cat nip.  Given what I know of cats, I'm betting the catnip will win.....

Gardening as a Contact Sport

I love picking wild blackberries to eat each June, but boy, I sure don't like the plants. Especially today. We are reclaiming two areas of the flower garden that have been completely overgrown with weedy mats of grass, sumac trees, and blackberry bushes.

Blackberry bushes are MEAN.  If you have never encountered a wild blackberry bush, let me introduce you.

They start out all innocent looking...like a wild rose. Rose-like white flowers, long slender canes. Ah, spring, you think, and enjoy a few white flowers. 

Then there are berries...kind of sour, but a bit of sugar and they're great on waffles.

And then....there are more...and more.....and the damn things just keep coming.

They grow slender canes. Little shoots. Big gigantic thorns.  Heck, even the LEAVES have thorns.

We pulled them up....and they kept coming back. They grew among the stones in the garden, they grew up among the pallets of stones, they grew anywhere.

Today, John took a pickaxe to them. I wore heavy gloves, but it didn't matter. Every time I'd grasp a shoot I'd get stung.  Everywhere the blackberry thorns pricked my skin, I have welts like blisters.  I look like I have the freaky chicken pox on my arms, my legs, my hands - everywhere. The darn thorns pricked through my jeans, through my sweatshirt and through suede - yes SUEDE - gloves.

I tossed them in the woods. I seriously considered, for one fleeting minute, erecting a barricade of blackberries and brambles along our property line. That way if we have, say, a Zombie invasion, the Zombies will be stopped at the perimeter by ugly, thick blackberry thorns.

Gagh.  Hate those plants. Out they go!

Oh, and the area we cleared today?

It's getting a nice, sweet weeping cherry.

Thank God it's Friday. I can't take any more of this.

Harbingers of Spring: Daffodils

I'm a blogger for Main Life Gardening, a garden center near Philadelphia, contributing an essay or two per week to their website. I think you will enjoy my essay, Harbingers of Spring, posted to their site today (click the underlined words to read the essay.)

Yesterday the temperatures soared into the 60s again, so we spent about an hour and a half cleaning up the flower garden.  Last year the weeds had overtaken a section near the back along the treeline where we had planted wisteria and forsythia.  Along with the weeds come the brambles - wild blackberries along with other thorn-filled plants that send runners underground and emerge with long, pliable stems replete with thorns several centimeters long. Once those plants appear, we're in trouble.  The only way to get rid of them is to dig them out entirely.  We use a pick axe on the hard clay soil and dig, dig and dig.  I wear heavy suede gardening gloves.  My job is to pull the thorny stems up and discard them in the woods.  I always get stung by the thorns and develop a rash for an hour or two afterward.  It's really no fun.

But tackling these tough chores now is the best course of action.  In a few weeks, the ticks emerge, and clearing brush and weeds when the ticks are out just isn't smart. It's cold enough at night and warm enough during the day to keep those ugly, disease-ridden insects at bay, plus we're still wearing long sleeved shirts to protect our skin.  When it gets hot in Virginia, it gets hot - and even though ticks are a risk, I can't garden in a long sleeves shirt when it's hot!

Despite feeling sore and tired from all that weeding, we did uncover a surprise.  More spring bulbs were hidden underneath all the weeds along with daylilies that crept down from the hillside to naturalize on the forest edge.  We dug up the daylilies since they were growing where we are going to continue the pathways this spring.  We moved them into position underneath the forsythia, where we're trying to have a nice band of yellow starting in early spring, then continuing with orange-yellow daylilies during the summer.

Last night we made up another garden catalog order. We are adding more trees to the property - as if 13 acres or so of timber and 2 acres of hardwoods aren't enough - and adding a few Colorado spruce, more redbuds, and magnolias to the property.  I've got a "matchstick" mum on order, what my dad used to call a "spoon" mum because the petal ends have little spoons on them, and we ordered tons of ground cover plants. Our latest plan (to avoid weeding next year) is to plant lots of perennial ground covers such as sedum, phlox, and Mother of Thyme on the slopes.  We noticed that in spots where the ground cover has taken over, such as the pink Evening Primrose, it chokes out the weeds.  Any plant that prevents weeds from taking over the garden is a friend of mine for sure!

Please enjoy the essay today on daffodils and spring bulbs over at Main Line Gardening.

Growing Sweet Peas

The very last year I gardened in Floral Park, I grew sweet peas. I grew them near the backyard faucets in a tiny patch of earth. They climbed up and onto the thick black telephone wire, hanging upside down in curtains of pink and white as they marched like tiny acrobats across the wire to the garage.  I love their old-fashioned fragrance and Victorian charm but have had the worst luck trying to get them to grow in my Virginia garden.  I had the bright idea to grow them next to the arched trellis that marks the entrance to the flower garden next to the driveway.  My morning glories reseed the spot every year, so my bright idea was that the sweet peas would flower in the cool spring weather followed by morning glories in June.  I think the spot is too hot for them, for last year they grew just about 10 inches before turning yellow.  I also think Mosaic virus strikes them in that spots.  This year, I am hoping to grow them along the fence that marks the vegetable garden.  When we sit at the kitchen table we look right at the vegetable garden, so I might as well make it pretty!

Please enjoy my latest article on growing sweet peas.  I hope you too have the sweetly scented curtain of flowers like I had growing in my garden in Floral Park.


Growing Sweet Peas - article