Dont Tread on Me!

I was starting to clean out the last garden bed on the terrace a few weeks ago. I found an uprooted plant tag from the new peony I planted late last year. Now, where did I plant that peony? Did it survive my neglect after I planted it?

I didn't see any sign of it where I thought I'd put it, so I kept on weeding. When I stood up, I realized I'd bee nkneeling right on top of it! Unfortunately, it had already started growing, and I'd broken off its two emerging shoots:

Oops! What are the chances it will regrow?



...



Pretty good, it turns out. Here's what it looked like this evening:

Whew!

I doubt it will flower this year, but at least it is alive. Hopefully it will gain some strength this year and give me flowers next year.

Declining Daffodils

My daffodils are declining.

Not just because it is mid-April and their peak bloom time has passed. I mean I have fewer of them. Lots and lots of foliage, but not a lot of flowers.

See all that beautiful foliage? Those few flowers in front are all I got.

Have the bulbs increased too much and crowded each other out, not allowing bulbs to form large enough to flower? Have the increases gone ever-deeper into the soil and prevented blooms? Is there some other problem?

I think I need to dig them up and divide them, I just don't know when to do it. I don't think I should do this now, that would stress them too much when they need to be storing up for next year. Can I divide them in early summer after the foliage has faded? That would be the best time for me, as I'd know exactly where they are, and they will still be on my mind. But new bulbs are planted in mid-late fall, so is that the best time to divide as well? Probably.

So I'll try to remember to do that in the fall. The bulbs will already be formed at whatever size they are going to be, so I doubt I'll get many flowers next year, either. But I have to start somewhere.

I started cutting the faded flowers in the side garden today, for my great daffodil count (which won't be so great this year). Today's cuttings: 80. I've gotten most of the yellows and the early whites. The later whites along the front walk are still going strong.

Why are these spread out and full of blooms? Because every time I plant something in this bed I accidentally dig up a bunch of bulbs and have to replant them. So they've been accidentally divided many times over the last few years. I even moved some to below the wall. They are in too much shade there, but many are blooming.

So I think I have an answer to one question: divide those daffodils!

4/29/2011 update
Final 2011 daff count: 175
2010: 282
2009: 347

Thriving on Neglect

So I didn't get out to the yard much this weekend. The poor weather Friday and Saturday (combined with working) meant I got into some indoor projects. While it was warmer today, the forecasted sun never materialized to beckon me outside. I managed to drag myself out there this afternoon to take a look around. Guess what? Spring is springing even without my help.

Here's my garage garden, in various shades of purple

There's moss phlox, anemone, muscari, creeping phlox, violets, and a very early geranium bloom.
Here's a closer look at that far end:


A few struggling tulips in the side garden


A few tulips and moss phlox, with some leftover crocus, on the patio terrace.


Blueberries!

This one could be problematic - the other blueberries haven't opened their buds yet, so I don't know if this plant will get pollinated.

I haven't even started the spring cleanup in the right terrace bed (I always seem to leave one part of a chore undone), but the Iberis (candytuft), Euphorbia myrsinites, and moss phlox are putting on their spring show anyway.

Yes, my garden thrives on neglect!

Snow Foolery

My parents live in New England, where they've had a great deal of snow this winter. Even more than normal. To give some perspective, here's a photo from their house in January, the day before another 10" of snow fell:


By late March, the snow was finally melting. There were even swaths of bare ground in the sunniest spots. Then Mother Nature played an evil April Fool's trick. Here was the scene when my parents awoke this morning:


Back in northern Virginia, it was a cool but (fortunately) dry start to April. But just last Sunday we had our own dusting of snow. I'd thought it was safe to put away the winter gear. I was wrong.







The snow was already melting by the time I went out to take pictures, and was all gone my mid-morning.

Organization

Organization is a wonderful thing. Too bad I'm not very good at it.

I spent most of last spring and summer not being able to use my garage, due to a project I'd started (and not finished) that took up much of the interior space. Since I couldn't put the car in, the garage became a repository for a lot of other stuff. So even when I eventually cleaned up from the project, I still couldn't put the car in.

My parents visited for a few days in late summer. While I don't always intend to put them to work, they are good at finding projects. We started off doing something else (I don't even remember what, now), but ended up spending two days cleaning out the garage. By the end, not only could I put my car in, but some junk that I had moved from the last house and thrown in there was gone, too. And nearly everything had a place, thanks to Mom's organizational skills.



Fast forward three seasons. Here I am, doing spring clean-up in the yard. I've cut down the Buddleia (further than I've ever dared cut it before, btw).




Now I need to tie up the twigs to go out with the trash. The city requires <4 ft length, <50lb bundles, tied up. Off to find some twine. I think there's some in the garage.

Oh, look! A box labeled "Rope and Twine" - I wonder if there's any twine in there?



There is!



I love organization.

Spring Stats

When I started this blog, I didn't do an intro post about the blog, my motivations for starting it, what I hoped to accomplish, or anything like that. I just dove right in. Like much in my life, doing is preferable to planning. So I did.

A year and some later, it's time to highlight one of the things this blog does for me: it is a repository for my meager record-keeping. But without it, I'd have even less in the way of records.

One fun thing I can do now that I have a little bit of history, is compare signs of Spring in the yard. Last year, I posted that on the first day of Spring my first white daffodils opened (yellow had already started), the first dandelion bloomed, and the mint appeared. Oh, and there was one lonely moss phlox flower.

This year, I've had daffodils for over a week already (both colors), I first saw the mint sprouts nearly a week ago, and I've been picking off dandelions for 2-3 weeks. (No phlox, but that was an oddity last year) So is my yard ahead of schedule this year (I think it is), or was everything late last year? With only one year of history, I don't really know (I just have a feeling, but that's not very scientific). So I'll have to keep this blog going long enough to make another comparison next Spring.

Meanwhile, let's look at what's noteworthy on this year's first Spring day. Since Spring represents the promise of things yet to come, here's what's about to happen in my yard:

Virginia Bluebells are emerging from the ground in the side yard.



And next to them the bleeding hearts are coming up, too.



There are reddish buds on the redbud.



This is the week I call the plum tree the Popcorn Tree:




Pop!



Happy Spring, y'all!

Sprouting Peas

Peas are my favorite spring vegetable. My parents started me early. When they worked in the garden when I was very young, they taught me how to pick and shell peas. I kept busy, and out of their way, eating fresh peas while they worked. I still love peas, as long as they are fresh and raw.

Unfortunately, my climate is not conducive to growing peas. Sugar snap peas, maybe, but shelling peas just don’t like it here. Spring just isn’t long enough - it gets too hot too fast. Fall is supposedly a better season for peas here, but that means planting them toward the end of summer, and I never seem to have free space in the garden then. So I plant spring peas, and do what I can to cheat. Peas grow just fine in cool, even cold weather. Frosts are no problem. But they sprout better when the soil isn’t frigid. So I sprout them inside, then plant out into the cold in mid-March.

I put some peas on a moist paper towel, cover with another moist paper towel, and put the whole thing in a recloseable plastic bag. Set it on top of the fridge for a week, and they sprout. The trick is in the timing, and here’s where I have trouble.



I did the paper towel thing with the peas on March 1. Then I went off to Phoenix for 5 days. When I got home, the peas were just starting to sprout. Another 2-3 days would do it. Then it rained. Then I was working late. So it was Sunday, March 13 before I had a chance to put them in the ground. Here’s what they looked like after 12 days in their “sprouting chamber”:



Those are some long roots! And the leaves are emerging. I don’t think I’ve planted them with leaves before. I was unsure how deep to plant these. Peas normally go 2 inches down. Would that be a problem to bury the emerging leaves? Should I keep them closer to the surface?

I decided to go with the 2 inches, give or take. Planting seeds is easy: dig a trench, drop in the seeds, cover the trench. But planting sprouted peas is a bit tedious. These must be planted one-at-a-time. I stick in my skinny trowel, move the soil enough so these super-long roots have a place to go, and drop in the peas root side down. Sometimes I dig too far, and the whole pea falls in. Then I have to fish it back out, trying not to break the roots. But all that labor is worth it when I can eat fresh peas in late spring!

I planted three rows (my rows are short, 4-5 feet) this way, then sowed a fourth with unsprouted peas. Just to see if my method really gains my peas some springtime coolness. We’ll see.