This might be Creme Upstar, though not double enough.
Nothing lasts forever. Beauty is fleeting. You’re heard these hackneyed sayings many times. But maybe this year they’re worth taking a little more seriously. Maybe the past few months have provided further compelling emphasis that it can all be taken away—just like that.
My big time to plan for a brief few weeks of beauty in the garden comes now, at bulb-planting season. And, no, I don’t care that hybrid tulips falter after two–three years—I don’t expect mine to remain even that long. Every year, I fill big containers with various hybrid tulips and stash them in the garage until April. Then they come out and get placed where they’ll have the best impact, close to the house. This, you will surmise, keeps them away from bulb-eating creatures, though it’s not my main concern. Tulips look best in tight, colorful groups, not scattered about or—worse—lined up, and I don’t care to have the big hybrids cluttering up my perennial beds (though I’ve softened on that and they are creeping in).
As I often forget which ones I’ve put in which pots, it’s always fun to watch them come up and see what mixtures work and which do not. I also have them in equally crowded circular raised beds, where they are replaced by big tropicals for the summer.
The big question is what to do after they bloom. I should add that this is a big question for others, not for me. I have to get my summer annuals into those pots, so the tulips have to fade away into the compost. Bye, tulips: I’m done with you until next year. Well, at least until August, anyway, when my new bulb catalogs arrive and I try to find interesting varieties I’ve not tried yet.
Judging from what I’m seeing on social media, many more gardeners are turning to bulbs; I see a lot of newbie questions and the usual amount of bizarre advice. I also saw this, on the Brent and Becky’s website: Due to an unprecedented volume of orders that we have been receiving, we have suspended accepting any new orders until Tuesday, October 6th. Thank you for your patience and understanding.
That tells you something.
Welcome, unprecedented bulb buyers! I hope they get as much enjoyment from your fleeting weeks of beauty as I do.
I hadn’t been downtown DC since last year, so with glorious September weather upon us, I was determined to go. But I’m not using public transportation unless I absolutely have to, so taking the usual subway right is not an option – until further notice.
Then a friend who’d driven downtown for a BLM rally told me how easy it is to pay and reserve a parking spot. Driving is actually faster from my house – just under 30 minutes, off-rush, which barely exists anyway. One problem solved. And there are now some accessible rest rooms in the area – a big concern for many, including me.
How-To for Locals
If you happen to be local or visiting, check out my other version of this post with visitor details, like how to reserve parking and where those critical rest rooms are. Most of the museums have opened up – with timed reservations – but I’m sticking with the abundant outdoor attractions for now because they’re safer and I want to take advantage of this weather!
Smithsonian Gardens
Janet Draper at work in the Smithsonian’s Ripley Garden
On my first trip downtown I was lucky to run into Janet Draper tending her Ripley Garden next to the Smithsonian Castle. Janet’s a hort-world superstar you may have heard of, thanks especially to her leadership role in the Perennial Plant Association.
So Janet, what’s it like working in a Smithsonian garden these days? She responded that “strange” is word of the year. While normally there would be “chaotic bus loads of tour groups,” this year there are very few visitors. She found it eerie at first but has gotten used to it. “It’s going to be hard when masses are back!”
This year it’s been mainly locals who’ve been “exploring their own back yards,” some mentioning to her that “they would never venture to the National Mall during ‘normal’ times due to traffic/ crowds and no time. So it’s a silver lining for them.”
There’s been a silver lining for the garden, too. “Currently I’ve taken the opportunity to gut and overhaul areas I would never dare to when crowds are present.”
Smithsonian’s Ripley Garden
In the beginning, she and the other Smithsonian gardeners were “told to stay away from the garden – during spring! – and that was really, really hard.”
Thankfully, at least some watering was being done, but if that’s all the care her garden was getting, she could well imagine the weeds she’d be dealing with later on, and she wasn’t letting that happen.
“Isn’t it awesome that I love my job so much I would do some ‘covert’ gardening?!” Of course she did! who among us would be able to stay away?
Oh, and no volunteer gardeners have been allowed this year, which is a big loss for the gardens.
Janet added by email that “I’m so fortunate to work for Smithsonian. Our Secretary (Lonnie Bunch) has been amazing and has kept us all safe and informed of what is happening. He’s made it clear that the employees at Smithsonian are just as important as the artifacts.”
I was sorry to see that my favorite sculpture there – Miro’s “Lunar Bird” in a sea of Stipa grasses – is gone, and its replacement now sits on a bed of turfgrass. Oh, well!
I made a second trip down to the Mall this week, taking my bike this time and seeing SO much more. It’s never been easier to ride around this city – now relatively car-free and totally crowd-free.
Brand New Ike Memorial
I wanted to see the Eisenhower Memorial that opened last Friday, having followed it over the 20 years of its design and approval process. It covers 3 whole acres of prime real estate facing the Air and Space Museum along Independence Avenue.
Now we all know not to judge brand-new landscapes on their opening day appearance, or to at least put on our future eyes before making any pronouncements. In this case starchitect Frank Gehry designed this entire space, including its landscape, dominated by rows of trees along open turf panels that allow for an unobstructed view of the Capitol. So let’s imagine it years from now providing shade and other urban canopy benefits.
The largest feature in the memorial is a humongous scrim attached to giant pillars, visible here behind the trees but seen much better in this night photo. (And night is when the Washington Post’s critic recommends seeing it.) The scrim features a drawing of the cliffs over Normandy Beach but in the daytime it resembles nothing. That’s too bad because the original design used a photo of the cliffs, rather than a drawing, and they were recognizable even in daylight.
Eisenhower as a farm boy, and a general.
This memorial took forever to be agreed on and the greatest disagreement between Gehry and the Eisenhower family was over his focus on Eisenhower’s youth, portraying him solely as a Kansas farm boy. I’m glad the family demanded his presidency and military career be portrayed, as well. D’oh!
U.S. Botanic Garden
Cycling on down the Mall, I stopped at the USBG and was surprised to find even its outdoor gardens mostly still closed. At least this streetside view of the conservatory here is glorious.
The USBG’s renovated Bartholdi Park across the street IS open, but somehow didn’t move me to take a photo of it.
Gardeners’ Favorite Memorial – the FDR!
With my speedy bike I cruised down to the more distant memorials, including the FDR. This particular sculpture of the president caused a stir because it hides his disability but I still love it, and the statue of Fala is beloved by kids. (A second statue of FDR in a replica of his homemade wheelchair was added later.)
Now seeing the photo, I read the quote and wonder what in particular he meant by the “regimentation of all human beings.” The memorial is packed with great FDR quotes, many of which are as relevant as ever – or even more so now.
I’ll either leave this or rip it out and replace it because it is really too much.
Pick a side, because the middle ground is disappearing. What’s true on the political front is equally true on the gardening front. Over the summer, I have watched gardeners in my region go all out for natives, ruthlessly getting rid of plants they—admittedly—like, once they find out their buddleia/shasta daisies/forsythia/clematis are “useless.” The daisies especially made me sad, because I’d love to have a big patch of daisies and have not yet been able to make it happen, through too much shade and likely too much incompetence. Native vs. non continues to cause heated and unnecessary conflict in the gardening world.
Another polarizing issue for many US gardeners is about to take center stage as we pass the autumn equinox, deciduous trees start to shed their leaves, and summer perennials finish up their decline. The discussion has already begun here, and it’s interesting. There are the traditional gardeners who love a fall clean-up. That means cutting back almost everything so the snow will have tidy beds to fall upon. Anyone who hires a mow ’n’ blow landscaper will see their perennials—and many shrubs—cut back to nothing.
And then there is the other side. “Leave everything!” they cry. “Don’t cut back anything!” It’s really just rumblings, now, but soon it will be a roar. And then the leaves. Who’d like to start a pool on when the first “Leave the leaves” post or meme will appear?
We have to clean up our maples leaves or they’d form a thick, sodden mat that—without decomposing at all—will smother small spring bulbs and emerging perennials in the spring. We put them out for the municipal compost program, which picks them up. But I was surprised to see that the crew who did the leaves also took it upon themselves to cut some mature hydrangeas (arborescens) way back and remove many perennial stalks and foliage. I was at work, and didn’t know or I would have stopped them. This year, I’ll be on the spot.
I just don’t see the point. Old man winter will beat the hell out of those perennials, and I won’t have that much to remove in the spring. Lazy gardener=wildlife advocate, in this case.
Gardeners who have diverse landscapes with abundant trees, shrubs, and perennials should likely not worry about what and what not to clean up. Just be lazy; do what you have to or really want to (your choice!) and leave the rest. Only the individual gardener can decide how much cleanup/lack thereof makes sense. Polarizing directives do not help them.
While most of your lawn is probably in direct sunlight for most of the day, there will be patches that remain in the shade, especially as the seasons change.
In the winter, for instance, the sun doesn’t rise high in the sky. This pattern creates long shadows for several months, leading grass in some parts of your lawn to be deprived of the light it needs to thrive.
Often, there’s nothing you can do to remove the source of the shadows, either. It could be your two-story house or a large, protected tree (or something on your neighbor’s property). Thus, your only option is to adopt proper lawn care. But what does that involve when parts of the lawn experience a lot of shade? Here’s some advice.
Keep The Lawn Hydrated
The first step is to keep the lawn hydrated, especially in the summer months. If grass doesn’t have sufficient water, it will brown more quickly.
Choose Shade-Loving Species Of Grass
Next, you’ll need to be selective of the grass species you choose. While most varieties need around six hours of sunlight per day to bounce back in the spring, some species can survive low-light conditions for extended periods.
Savvy gardeners, therefore, vary grass species across their lawns according to expected light levels. If they know a particular corner will struggle to get the sunshine it needs to thrive, they sow more robust seeds here.
This strategy is one that many stately homes use to keep their lawns looking fresh and verdant year-round. They’ll vary the species they plant according to the expected conditions. If light levels are going to be low, then they will scatter more seeds of grass species that can survive them.
Hire Professional Help
Have you ever been to a friend’s house and marveled at how they managed to get a perfect lawn? Well, usually, the state of their grass has nothing to do with their personal efforts. Instead, they’ve usually hired professional help.
Affordable lawn care might be the right option for you if you’re a busy person who doesn’t have enough time to spend in the garden, tending to your lawn. Professionals put your grass on a schedule, feeding and watering it periodically according to the prevailing weather conditions and climate.
Make Weed Removal A Priority
The combination of shade and weeds will immediately kill patches of grass, trying to survive in low light conditions. Invasive plant species steal resources from the grass, causing it to die back. Be sure that you operate a robust weeding schedule to remove unwanted plants the moment that they appear in vulnerable spots on your lawn.
Grass near borders tends to receive more shade than grass in the middle of your lawn. Furthermore, it has to compete with neighboring plants for resources. Therefore, professional gardeners suggest that you find ways to increase the gap between the plants in your borders and the grass. The more significant the distance, the less likely the grass will die.
I squeaked by in high school chemistry doing little more than fiddling around with the Bunsen burner so it would throw flames like a tiny oil refinery. I was easily distracted in class, but I never saw any reason to dispute the science behind the periodic table.
What little do I know now?
Chemistry was hard to grasp.
Addressing the alarming consequences of climate change is harder.
Too hard for the President.
Numbing out is easier.
Late May
Bless a few of my Trump-loving friends who have turned a corner and, now, at least, acknowledge that POTUS is crazy, but insist: “If your plumber can fix a leak, who cares if he’s crazy?”
I care.
Also he’s not fixing the leak.
Our crazy President gaslights science as counterfeit and remains unbudgeable on climate change.
This is scary.
Mid-July
Our two-acre melting pot of native pollinators is inconsequential in any larger environmental sense, but I feel healthier and happier walking through a diverse meadow of colors, scents and hummingbirds.
Is this an illusion—the doping effect of a do-gooder?
Late August
Goldenrod, ironweed, green milkweed and frostweed have crossed into our meadow. That’s OK. They join big bluestem, greasy grass, prairie coneflower, New England Aster and other native species that were originally sown late in 2011.
Wind has blown in box elder seeds, and squirrels have buried walnuts. The meadow seems stubbornly determined to return to the central Kentucky forest it once was.
Mid-September
Our meadow won’t save the earth.
The planet can only be preserved with personal, and powerful, worldwide leadership.
Let me introduce a national park you’ve never heard of – the Greenbelt National Park, 1,200 acres of woods, trails and campsites just 10 miles outside of DC. It’s even near a subway station, so no wonder it’s popular with visitors to the area, domestic and international. City residents sometimes camp here, too, enjoying an easy get-away in nature.
The park is less than a mile from my house, so I’ve visited many times and written about its volunteers, its events and its superintendent.
Retirees serving as campground hosts for a 3-month stint.
So imagine my surprise when I heard that the park is one of four possible locations for Trump’s “National Garden of American Heroes,” announced by Executive Order on July 3.
That’s a few scandals ago, but remember when the removal of Confederate statues was in the news? This “garden” idea was one of Trump’s least offensive reactions to all that, to just pick his own “heroes” and put up statues for them. The announcement said that preference would be given to “the Founding Fathers, former Presidents of the United States, leading abolitionists, and individuals involved in the discovery of America.”
The first 31 “heroes” are: Billy Graham, Antonin Scalia, Ronald Reagan, John Adams, Susan B. Anthony, Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett, Amelia Earhart, Alexander Hamilton, Abraham Lincoln, Douglas MacArthur, Christa McAuliffe, George Patton, Betsy Ross, George Washington, Wilbur Wright, Orville Wright. Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, Henry Clay, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, Dolley Madison, James Madison, Audie Murphy, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Clara Barton, Booker T. Washington, Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, Martin Luther King Jr., and Jackie Robinson.
The list was described as not exhaustive, and our mayor was told that the number of statues could rise to several hundred!
Statues of Ronald Reagan and Antonin Scalia, and statue of Billy Graham being removed from downtown Nashville.
Not just the names but the sculptures’ style would be dictated, too. “All statues in the National Garden should be lifelike or realistic representations of the persons they depict, not abstract or modernist representations.” Because no Modernism! (This is consistent with Trump’s draft Executive Order – called “Making Federal Buildings Beautiful Again” – requiring that all new federal buildings be Classical in style.)
Now in my first career I attended dozens, maybe hundreds of meetings about proposed memorials and statues in DC, so I’d read the “Garden of Heroes” announcement with interest but shrugged it off in the “never gonna happen” category, knowing it takes years for these things to be approved, and Trump would be gone soon, anyway. As one tells oneself these days.
Even if he won re-election (I know, I’m shuddering as I type those words), this would surely go the way of that other expensive vanity project of his – the Wall.
But then shit got real when I got the email from our mayor: “It has come to my attention that one of the locations that the Department [of Interior] is most strongly considering is Greenbelt Park.” He announced a town hall on the subject, which I attended, of course (virtually, like everyone).
Issues Raised in our Town Hall
Legal
The mayor noted the park was commissioned for its “greenery,” which is especially important for a town famous for the green belt around it – it’s “part of our brand!” And when he heard there may be hundreds of statues he wondered, “Are they going to be miniatures?”
So he declared the proposal “legally suspect” and said he assumed it could be tied up in courts, “certainly until January, when things will work out.” (More cautious optimism.)
Political
“The list is horrible! Really insulting.” “It’s a show of force, and very worrisome.” Seems like they’re “sticking it to the liberals.”
“Why not include FDR?” (whose administration created Greenbelt). And it’s “odd to have Scalia without Marshall or Warren.”
Many expressed concern that it would be “very politicized” – no shit!
“Feels like a whim.” “He’s claiming grandeur for himself.” Ditto.
“People will be up in arms about this!”
Someone mentioned the environmental impact statement taking a long time to prepare, and “hopefully Trump would be in jail by then.”
Practical Implications
Is there the infrastructure for all the new traffic?
“Who would be attracted to it?” was a concern that hadn’t even occurred to me but yes, I can imagine people coming here to show their support for the Confederacy. Think Charlottesville. “This feels like infiltration and is very threatening, honestly.”
“It’s a misappropriation of resources.”
The mayor mentioned that lots of cities are actually asking for this! So why not let some other city reap the imagined economic benefits from such a “garden.”
Having solicited input without comment until the very end, the mayor finally declared that “I stand strongly against this project.”
Politics aside, I bet most would agree that putting dozens or hundreds of statues in a forested national park isn’t exactly showing them off to their advantage. To say the least.
About Style
Now I’m pretty inclusive in my artist tastes and would hate to see modernist or abstract works banned. However, I wonder if such a ban would have blocked my least favorite new statue in DC – this one of Martin Luther King Jr. as a Chinese emperor, so tall that visitors rush up to it, only to get a view of his knees.
A favorite of mine is this statue of Frederick Douglass, installed at the University of Maryland campus in 2015. It’s realistic and downright fiery! And at 7.5 feet tall, it’s majestic but still reachable.
I knew full well what I was getting into. My dormant gardening genes from my father’s side kicked in back in 1987, soon after my wife and I bought our first house. I had grown up around gardens. My Dad had a rock garden in the backyard and also a vegetable plot in a nearby community garden. I loved working in that veggie garden until I reached an age where sex, drugs, and rock and roll became a distraction. But I did have that early exposure to both vegetable and ornamental gardening as a kid, and when I got that first piece of ground and those genes reared their ugly heads, for some reason I focused on food. Later on, at our second house, it turned to all things ornamental.
My Great Grandfather in his vegetable patch.
That first vegetable garden quickly became all-consuming. It started large and then got larger. Began with a few tomatoes and peppers. In three or four years, we grew every vegetable, had a small orchard, grapes, and raised rabbits. We were tapping our maples and making wine. The joke is that things got so out of control that we had to move. And so we did. To a house we had long admired only a tenth a mile up the street.
Young, dumb, urban farmers. Circa 1987. So sweet. So innocent.
Although I had every intention of starting a new, albeit scaled down, veggie garden at the new house, it never happened for a variety of reasons. The main reason was that the space I had set aside for the veggie garden we later learned had been at one time a gravel driveway. Compacted beyond belief. Almost like concrete. So it became my propagation area/mini nursery until June 2019, when we wound up hosting my son’s wedding in our back yard. The listing, rusting frame of my hoop house was deemed a poor backdrop for such an esteemed event, and so it went to the scrapyard. In its place, finally, went some raised beds, a grape arbor, and some veggies. Last year, I dabbled a bit. This year I dug in deeper.
The new house, which was in fact way older than the old house. A Dutch colonial whose ground lured me into ornamental gardening. The old nursery before it was removed. In the background is my neighbor’s backyard.
Again, I reiterate, I knew full well what I was getting into. I have always enjoyed irony, and my favorite ironic moment in the world is when, having learned that I work in Horticulture, someone says, “Hey, I’m thinking of getting into gardening, but nothing hard. Just some vegetables. Maybe a fruit tree. Possibly some roses. Got any tips?” “Yeah, think again!”
So, yes, I knew a return to vegetable gardening would have its ups and downs. I expected some disappointments. Still, two things wound up catching me by surprise. First, was just how emotionally invested I became in this new part of the garden, and, second, just how total was my failure! I tried denying much of it for a while, but then my humiliation was complete when I recently had cause to visit a nearby community garden. There, in plain sight, I could compare the overflowing bountiful harvests being enjoyed by some twenty or thirty area residents, all of them mere amateurs, as the image of my own barren wasteland periodically appeared in my head. As we walked about, I posed as respectable horticulturist and did not mention anything about my troubles and doubts to the woman who was showing me around.
The barren wasteland. A field where dreams go to die but where shame and humiliation flourish.
In my defense, my garden is prettier than any that I saw there, and we did harvest some lettuce, beans, and garlic. And my tomato plants are beautiful. Ten feet tall, they are tied up to a bamboo frame in a straight row. They even screen the view of my neighbor’s yard from where we sit on the patio. It’s just a damned pity that the neighborhood cartel of squirrels got it in their stupid, disturbed little squirrel brains to cut off and partially eat my entire crop of beautifully developing green tomatoes.
And then there was a deer. I never have deer in my backyard. We have a four foot fence which is heavily planted on both sides with all kinds of trees and shrubs, so, having no place from which to launch and nowhere to land, they never visit. Until one day this summer. Like a bonehead, I removed one little extra shrub to make more light for my veggies. Never even occurred to me that I had just created a hole in the defenses. Two nights later, the world’s most observant deer, but also a very clumsy one, found the breach, got in, and busted off the one tomato plant whose loss could embarrass me.
At a master gardener’s conference 2-3 years ago, I met another speaker whose name is Heather Pariso. She wound up offering to send seeds of a tomato that she had bred herself for me to grow at the Cincinnati Zoo & Botanical Garden. But then I lost the seeds, and then suffered shame when Heather checked in to see how they were doing. But then I found the seeds, and started them over winter in my basement at home. Sent Heather a happy email telling her so. I thought I would plant them at the Zoo, but then COVID-19 hit. Because I was working from home, I wound up planting one plant in my garden. How could I know then that spot where I put it would soon be the very place where a klutzy deer would stumble around like a belligerent drunk? Of course Heather texted a month later to see how the plant was doing, and, once again, I suffered shame.
Me, more recently, receiving adoration from the master gardeners who attended the conference where I met Heather.
We’ve all known that person who brings in hundreds of pounds of zucchini and begs everyone to take some? Well, that sure wasn’t me. My squash plants grew beautifully, put out hundreds of flowers. Know how many squash we enjoyed? Exactly one. That’s all that developed from all those flowers. WTH?
Does all this failure, humiliation, and shame mean I’m going to quit? Absolutely not. I’m nowhere near that smart, and I’m already making plans for next year. I might need more light, so I’m thinking of cutting down the gingko. Or the coffeetree. Maybe both. Maybe I need a truckload of manure. Maybe I need to buy a gun, learn how to hunt, and develop a taste for squirrel. I’ve got ideas. I can go all kinds of directions, but I can’t go back on the vegetable garden. Not now. It’s on, and I’m all in.
The latest of the Virtual Summer Garden Tours we’re assembling instead of holding in-person tours is the cool oasis created by the talented gardener Sandra Lange.
Luckily for us, Sandra’s son David Barnes is a professional videographer and was available to work with her to create a PBS-quality tour, with Sandra providing the narration. It’s embedded below. But first, an introduction.
About the Gardener
Sandra did not have a garden until she moved to Greenbelt in 1966 when she discovered her love for the natural world and her proximity to Behnke’s Nursery. Over the years, she visited many gardens, including several in Japan and China. She attended flower shows—Floriade in the Netherlands, Chelsea in London and, of course, Philadelphia.
Over the past 50 years, she and her gardening buddy, Mary Lou Williamson, toured many gardens and nurseries throughout Washington, Virginia and Delaware, and shopped plant sales near and far. Inspiration for her own garden has been influenced by her travels, gardening publications and programs, as well as by meeting many dedicated gardeners.
About the Garden
The primary focus of Sandra’s garden is her pond. She and her husband David moved into their present home in 2003. In 2005, they engaged Meadows Farms to design a free-form, irregularly shaped 12′ x 18′ pond with two waterfalls that cascade into stream beds that flow into the main pond. Weathered limestone rocks of various sizes and shapes surround the pond. There also is an 11 x 17 foot shaded flagstone patio and walkways.
Sandra planted a variety of trees and shrubs—Zelkova, Japanese maples, Chinese fringe tree, Heptacodium (Seven Son), Chaste trees, Japanese willow, viburnums, oak leaf hydrangeas, camillias, all of which have matured over the past 15 years. She has a collection of peonies, including four Itohs, an edgeworthia (paper bush), varigated deutzia. There are many varieties of ferns, astilbe, azaleas, hostas. A Japanese style arbor frames the entrance to the garden. A collection of pots feature banana plants, amorphophalllus lillies (corpse flower), pineapple lilies, hibiscus.
The pond is host to burgundy colocasias, deep red irises, acorus, ginger and lotus plants, three koi, frogs and an occasional black snake.
The lawn was eliminated several years ago and replanted with Japanese ferns, variegated liriope, brunnera and epimedium. The entire yard is surrounded by white and red oaks and hollies that transport one into a lush and peaceful environment.
Rant reader Dale Leeper posted the comment about his home-made bird bath in a comment to my bird bath story, and it sounded great to me. I emailed right away asking for photos, and here they are!
Watching the video, it is apparent the bird is afraid of falling into too deep water. Unfortunately, bird baths are often made with human aesthetics in mind instead of the bird’s need. The sides are steep and slippery.
I made my birdbath from a terracotta 16-inch pot saucer. The edges are thick and provide good gripping. The bottom is flat and only a little over an inch deep. Birds have little fear of it.
I placed it on a pedestal I made from an old tree stump cut to about 3 to 4 feet. First I placed an inch of sand on the ground, tamped it down, and leveled it. On top of that a $1, 16-inch cement stepping stone from the home store. The stump sits on top of that, keeping it off the soil.
Then I put 3 galvanized screws in the top of the stump about 8 inches apart in a triangle. The screws can be screwed up or down to make them level with each other using a bubble level. Place the pot saucer on that and fill with water that will be level.
It’s easy to clean since the saucer just sits on the screws and the terracotta is heavy enough to keep it in place even if a squirrel visits.
I’ve had it for at least 10 years and the stump has not deteriorated yet.
It looks natural in the landscape, too.
The screws are raised or lowered to keep the saucer flat.
Through our ongoing letters and because of the few times we’ve hung out, I must admit I have become rather fond of you. Despite having a few lingering concerns caused mainly by your fixation on all things British, I pretty much consider you a friend. Yet, I was surprised by how angry I got when I read in your letter about the woman (who will be from now on referred to as “Clueless Lady Critic”) who had reacted to a recent post on your website by stating that she was, “Looking for something more positive.” In an earlier draft I wrote something here my wife made me remove, but let’s just agree that that was an incredibly rude and ignorant thing to say!
One of the things we have in common is whatever that mental disease is that causes someone to garden too much. People like us always want to do more, and have just enough drive to almost get it all done. The void, of course, causes stress, which is relieved, of course, by one of two spirits and tonic water. On one hand, this is okay. This, along with our unwavering commitment to journalistic integrity, is what gives us such cred with our loyal readers, who are, each and every of them, elite gardeners and amazing people. They appreciate our honest and heartfelt attempts to find and express absolute gardening truth. Yet, on the other hand, it sets us up to periodically crash and burn, which, sure as hell, happens every August.
Spring is a breeze. Lots of work, but it feels good. Like it’s making a difference. Like it’s setting you up for a beautiful summer. You feel creative and in control.
So if “Clueless Lady Critic” was expecting to read airhead happy, peppy, dopey, dumb as hell garden writing that came from anywhere other than the UK or PNW in August, then what she really wants is to be lied to. Obviously lied to. Like from a millionaire African Prince who loves her madly and needs only a small loan to unlock his tremendous wealth so they can live happily ever after. For some reason, I picture this woman at home in a big fancy house. She is, of course, inside, air-conditioned, hydrated, drinking wine in the afternoon, and unsuccessfully trying to amuse herself by micromanaging her gardener by text, writing vicious, hateful remarks in the comments section of online news articles, and, when the opportunity arises, ripping the heart out of a fragile, honest, earnest, and truthful garden writer. A garden writer who lives in Virginia of all places, and whose one mistake was posting something she wrote in August. By the way, I totally apologize if this description of “Clueless Critic Lady” critic in any way resembles how you might have looked as you composed your recent rant on Martha Stewart earlier this week. If that is so, it was purely an unfortunate coincidence.
Until mid-July, everywhere you turn is exuberance. Color. Life. Growth.
Marianne, I don’t know your opinion, but 2020 has been a big disappointment to me. This, of course, only made August worse than it usually is. I started at least five blogs and articles which experienced absolutely no quality of life at until they began an extended period of suffering before, mercifully, I killed them. They all started with good ideas, I thought, but it was impossible to find one redeeming thing about any of them. The more I tried, the worse they got. Even now, midway through September, I’m still feeling the effects. This letter had multiple false starts. It has taken almost two weeks, and I still don’t like it. But, I now know that it served a very useful purpose. Only by writing this was I finally able to see that these struggles had nothing to do with my limitations as a writer. They were entirely caused by August’s endless capacity to crush one’s spirit. And although it was mortifying to miss my August Garden Rant deadline, I’m glad that I did. If I had posted anything more than a grocery list (which even on its fifth draft would have been cliche-ridden and full of mistakes), our loyal readers, each of them elite gardeners and amazing people, would have seen right through it. Every effort at humor? Flat as Kansas. The hope for some fragment of insight? A false hope. And anything that feigned that I still cared about anyone or anything at all would have been an obvious lie. Our loyal readers would have revolted! I would have looked like a complete fraud, and I’d really prefer to keep everyone guessing about that for as long as possible!
The issue here is the divide between readers who know about trying to garden in August and those who don’t. Over 90F days all over the place. Humidity. Lots of work to do, but none of it is the fun, creative stuff you do in spring or fall. Nope. It’s just hard labor. Tasks like dragging hoses around and defibrillating your spouse who unwisely offered to help out. And, although the garden is still functioning, the reward is greatly diminished. It pretty much looks as bad and tired as you do.
Then there’s August.
What we really need is for a celebrity gardener to inform the general public about what to expect from honest garden writers in August. Someone willing to scream it in profanity-laced streams of invective at Master Gardener conferences. Martha Stewart would have been the obvious choice, but I think you might have nipped that one in the bud with your hatchet job on her a few days ago. Maybe we can get P. Allen Smith to record a public service announcement that might sometimes run on PBS between 2:00 and 4:00 AM. “P. Allen Smith here, telling y’all to skip your chores in August, and remember to go a little easy on our garden writing friends.” Might help.
I’ll see what I can do. I know a guy from Arkansas. They’re probably related or something. In the meantime, I need to get rolling. August has left me with a backlog of life to get caught up on. I suppose I’d better try to get some of it off my plate. I’ll be following with another note soon about my adventures trying to grow a vegetable garden this summer. Another reason my will to live needs resuscitation.
The Heart of Darkness exploring the vegetable garden in spring. We give him a home. We feed him. But will he chase off squirrels? Turns out, no.
By the way, I’m having further doubts abut your friend Beth Chatto. If you’re already gardening in the hottest, driest part of England, is it such a great idea to put a gravel garden on top of a parking lot? I think it would have been smarter to find a better spot, amend it with organic matter, and maybe install irrigation. But, hey, what do I know? That’s just me.
Your Friend,
Scott
PS-I may be rather fond of you, but I fell over the top in love with your wickedly smart and sharply efficient response to “Clueless Critic Lady’s” snarky comment and notification that she would be blocking your posts. If I should live long enough and type enough random letters to ever string together six words as brilliant as, “relieved me of her reading services,” it will be over. From that moment on, I will be impossible to live with!
In our continuing effort to keep you informed about the White House grounds – not because those 17 acres are important in the grand scheme, but because it’s our beat!
On Aug. 27, Trump delivered his address formally accepting the Republican nomination on the South Lawn before an estimated 1,500 supporters seated on chairs. The president spoke from an enormous stage built in front of the South Portico of the White House. It was flanked by massive television screens and illuminated by scores of hulking spotlights — all particularly heavy equipment to position on grass.
So the turfgrass there has to be redone.
Two nights earlier, first lady Melania Trump delivered her convention address in the newly reconstructed Rose Garden, with dozens of supporters seated in chairs. *Turf was laid atop the grass as a protective measure, according to one White House official, who spoke on the condition of anonymity because aides were not authorized to discuss some details. *Emphasis added; interpret it as “wtf?”
More new sod is needed.
CNN had the story, too. “The Trump campaign told CNN ‘The tab for the repairs to the grass will be paid for by the Trump campaign.’
No comment from ME. But y’all go ahead.
“Great American Lawn” on CBS Sunday Morning
CBS This Morning is a beloved show – especially by me, even more so after I was ON the show in a story about about coaches of various kinds, including garden coaches.
So I know this isn’t “60 Minutes,” where exposés are a regular feature. I know “Sunday Morning” is for feel-good stories, but I have to vent anyway. Their story about lawns, with correspondent Martha Teichner, includes:
Lawns like these. On the left is a lawn on top of a 24-story building in Chicago.
Ted Steinberg, author of the excellent book American Green, saying that “Coronavirus has made Americans lawn-care crazy” and “You could argue that the perfect lawn is the perfect coping mechanism in a world that’s turned upside down.” Wish he’d been used to touch on the problems. But again, not “60 Minutes.”
Then it turns into a full unpaid (or maybe paid?) ad for Scotts Miracle-Gro:
Scenes from actual ads were included in the story.
Called the company that “rallies the weed warriors,” Scotts ads are shown while we’re told its annual sales are $3 billion/year but that its lawn and garden product sales are up 24 percent this season!
I wonder – did they just coordinate with the Scotts PR team without a moment’s research into the company? They sure didn’t read my round-up of valid reasons the company is SO HATED in the gardening world: Who’s more controversial, Michelle Rhee or Scotts Miracle-Gro?
And they sure didn’t see this take-down of the company in Espoma’s brilliant video launching its organic lawn care products.
Finally, we meet a real “lawn nut” who creates perfect shapes as he mows – like the American flag above. Sigh.
But wouldn’t it be nice to see mentions of the “Great American Lawn” include the whole picture, like how Scotts ads promote unnecessary and harmful use of synthetic fertilizers, especially in the spring? Not to mention promoting the need for perfect, monocultures in the first place, instead of lawns like Ted Steinberg’s, which Teichner describes as “not perfect.”
I DO appreciate the opportunity to show off this photo of correspondent Rita Braver with her crew, my coaching client and me in 2007.
Here’s Rita sitting on my front porch during an unexpected visit. After the planned filming in a coachee’s garden, she asked to see MY garden and filmed the show’s opening from my porch. That required first moving a used toilet from said porch, where it was ready to be carted away. Glamorous times!
As a nation, we are so starved for American garden programming that we are willing to accept that a woman worth over $620 million dollars, stuck for 82 days on her 153-acre estate in Bedford, NY; with her gardener, one of her housekeepers, and one of her drivers; and joined as needed by groundskeepers and their foreman, is going to fill that need and leave us hungry for another season of down-to-earth gardening advice.
So starved, that we are willing to accept HGTV promos that tell us that this immaculately dressed and fully made-up celebrity, sans sweat, sans grimy hands, and sans, apparently, a production assistant to create some small illusion of same, is relatable; and “puts the G back in HGTV.”
So starved, that we are willing to overlook her frequent – and historical – transposition of the pronouns “I” and “they” when discussing the nitty-gritty of projects undertaken on that 153-acre estate.
So. Starved.
Six episodes worth of gilded crumbs. And I’m afraid this gardener has lost her appetite.
It’s not about the money…
Perhaps the best way to launch into my review [and accompanying visual aids] of the first season of HGTV’s Martha Knows Best, (which I watched in its entirety after Susan’s recent review here) is to make it perfectly clear that I have no problem with the [legal] accumulation of wealth.
What wrestling a tiller really looks like.
I have no problem, as it were, with the wealthy.
You earned it. You spend it. Martha Stewart is not just an extraordinary business woman, but a talented creative with an expert eye sharpened over many years.
She also has the genius to recognize, nurture, and promote that spark in other creatives.
If she insists that the 1000+ containers on her property be of the same color family (stone, concrete or marble), and never wishes to see an artistic vegetable in a flower arrangement, and lines utilitarian pathways to peacock enclosures with cut blocks of granite, who am I to criticize her from enjoying the whims that whacking great wads of cash can indulge?
I’ll have to tell my insanely talented friend Louisa Zimmermann-Roberts at Thanksgiving Farms in Frederick, MD, that her summer arrangement of Swiss chard, sweet pea, red raspberries, grapes eggplant, okra, chives, black-eyed peas and banana leaves is not officially sanctioned. She’s going to take it really well.
If I lived across the street as one of her “very many fancy neighbors” I would raise a glass to her abilities at the neighborhood block party, and conscientiously ask her advice when it came to pairing champagne and stemware for a well-lubricated celebrity crowd of twenty on a Saturday night.
I might even ask which echeveria to use in the tablescape.
Wickedly, I’d also try to tempt her hardworking gardener, Ryan McCallister, to cross the street and become my personal gardener. My current gardener, Cutout Andy (though versatile and well-traveled), doesn’t have the same twinkle in his eye.
Cutout Andy and I discussing plans for the garden.
All this to say, I respect what she has achieved and have no desire to set up a mini-guillotine in the exquisitely designed cobblestone courtyard of her horse stables. I won’t even debate aspects of her gardening advice. Susan did that already.
I also respect the fact that she is a 79-year-old woman who is a damn sight more active than your average 79-year-old American.
Let Them Eat Cake
What I don’t respect however, is this laughable attempt to appear ‘relatable’ as someone who is just like me, or like 99% of the gardening public.
I don’t respect the producers of this show having so little awareness of the current suffering going on throughout the country that they felt that a conspicuous display of fabulous wealth could feed the public’s very real (and in many cases, economic) need for gardening advice.
At a certain point it goes from being laughable, to being downright offensive. From the intro:
“I’ve lived on this farm for about 17 years. And like you I’m spending more time at home than ever before. So I’m going to take you behind the scenes as I do my gardening projects. I’m going to help my celebrity friends. And surprise new gardeners.”
Here’s one of my gardening projects – Endlessly Weeding. On my knees. On my own. And I’m one of the lucky ones.
It must be horrific to spend 82 days on 153 acres. With a modified staff.
What about 82 days on a tenth of an acre (like my last house)? What about 82 days in an apartment with a philodendron?
Uhhh….there’s a pandemic going on?
We have been six months at this pandemic. After years in cramped quarters, I now live on ten beautiful acres in a four-bedroom house. And I’m ready to bury my husband’s work-from-home body in a remote corner of the property at this point. It might even be classified as a COVID death.
And no doubt my husband feels the same way.
And yet, every evening of this mess, when I watch the news and see cities in such turmoil, I think of my 10×12′ apartment in New York, when I was 100% dependent on food service jobs and student loans to make my bills.
Each and every morning when I walk through the garden I think of our little upstairs flat in Southeast London when my son was a toddler, and how desperate I was for more than a window box and a few pots by the door.
My very first vegetable garden – a 2x17ft unpaved strip in the parking lot outside our tiny apartment in Southern California. (Photo from Big Dreams, Small Garden, 2017)
And each morning I am deeply grateful for the space around me, and painfully aware that others are struggling in this pandemic under terrible conditions with no end in sight.
No awareness from Hollywood apparently. Or from Bedford.
“When the pandemic started and quarantine became de rigueur,” says Stewart, “I invited Ryan, my gardener, I invited Carlos, one of my drivers, and one of my housekeepers Elvira, to stay with me during this time.”
Quarantine. De rigueur. Alrighty then. So is a floor length gown at a debutante ball Martha. But okay, we’ll just go with it.
Lost in Translation
And if you didn’t study French in high school and are currently running to Google Translate – keep the tab open. To Martha, soil that is ready for planting does not resemble a palm full of pastry dough, but pâte brisée.
It’s actually an excellent analogy that falls short in its delivery. As does dropping mise en place to describe setting gardening tools in place for a project.
While you’re at it, you might want to check out Île de la Cité, where Martha gets “all her seeds.”
No Chanel or Dior for this everyday gardener when she arrives in Paris, she tells us, but straight to those lovely little seed markets.
I didn’t want to bring Marie and her cake into this, but damn.
My husband and I on our way to the seed markets. Regrettably he had to drive us due to some staffing issues.
I remark upon these Gallicisms as someone with five years of French under her belt, a fair amount of experience in the kitchen and garden, and an unfortunate history of dropping sans into conversation, but a young, beginning American gardener doesn’t know her pâte brisée from her pot of ease-ay.
99.9% of low or middle-income gardeners are not jetting to Paris for their seeds and will probably see what’s available at local garden centers before they consider even splurging on shipping fees for online sources, no matter how wonderful they are.
I know I did.
And here. Here is the issue. Pretending that this is a gardening show instead of a celebrity reality show.
The wonderful thing about Cutout Andy is that he is so incredibly portable. Here he is on his way to help my mother in her garden in California.
Just Ask Martha
A few moments of FaceTiming Mitch in Lemoore, California about soil preparation for his carrots; or telling Maggie in Mississippi that she needs “ferns” for the north side of her shady house; or letting Karlin from Florida in on the not-so-little secret that she needs a coop for her ducks to keep them safe from predators; does not constitute ‘hanging with the little people.’
Especially after each performs the requisite sycophantic prelude before speaking to “the Gardening Queen Herself”
Maggie: “I almost started crying but I did keep it together.”
And then there are the celebrity cameos. Hailey Bieber needing dog grooming tips. Jay Leno showing us the kitchen in his garage and asking what a pomegranate is. Zac Posen telling Martha he’s been gardening since March in Bridgehampton.
“Well. It’s SOOO easy to garden in the Hamptons” she laughs.
I’ll just leave that right where it fell.
Cutout Andy taking a few moments away from digging out a new pathway to enjoy a warm tomato from my mother’s garden.
I made my life-long gardening mother watch two episodes with me. When Martha begged Snoop Dogg to join her in Maine on her 63-acre estate, Skylands, for her next party post-COVID, Mom turned to me with a puzzled look on her face. “It’s like digging your heel into somebody’s face.” She said quietly. “I’d be embarrassed to say that.”
Even if I gave millions of dollars to charities each year – as no doubt Martha does – I would too.
To his credit, a tee-shirted Richard Gere sat cross-legged and underneath a tree in his father’s average suburban garden where he grew up – even if they spent the entire time discussing the shade beds at his exclusive Relais & Châteaux establishment, The Bedford Post Inn. He almost seemed a little embarrassed.
Perhaps we have his friendship with the Dalai Lama to thank for that.
She knows her stuff. But she’s forgotten her audience.
Martha’s smart. She’s exceptionally talented. She built an empire.
But she is not the person to put the G back in HGTV.
Ron Finley of South Central L.A., an activist gardener who has changed thousands of lives by inspiring people living in the food deserts of inner cities to garden (Source: www.RonFinley.com)
For advanced gardeners who have yet to watch ‘Martha Knows Best,’ do. I’d like to know what you think.
But if you’re a brand-new gardener – look to the shows, feeds and podcasts of those who garden with the resources and in the region that you do. I guarantee you there are hundreds on YouTube.
Or, depart these shores altogether and take advantage of UK programming that still respects its population enough to provide polished and professional gardening programs to inspire everyday gardeners, such as Charlie Dimmock’s new endeavor, Garden Rescue, classic episodes of Ground Force, or Monty Don and others truly getting their hands dirty in BBC Gardener’s World. (Please leave your suggestions in the comments for excellent gardening programming in other parts of the world.)
Martha Knows Best is not a gardening show. It’s a celebrity reality show that takes place outside. And in the middle of a pandemic, when millions are out of work, businesses are shuttered, and large segments of the population are watching their future dreams for even a modest home and garden sabotaged by something completely out of their control, we deserve better.
Let’s hope HGTV digs a little deeper and finds it.
CBS This Morning
