Good news, there will be spring flowers

Excellent news. Buds are forming on the variegated leaf, red flowered ‘Cherokee Sunset’ dogwood (Cornus florida ‘Cherokee Sunset’, below). For whatever reason, there have been no flowers on the dogwood in recent years. I’ve been resigned that perhaps there would never be flowers again, so this is a pleasant surprise. Also unusual is that the leaves, that are prone to powdery mildew, are mostly clean at the end of August, which is remarkable after a rainy summer. I suspect that the lack of mildew could be related to flower buds forming, with more energy devoted to bud formation rather than working just to survive. I can’t see anything else that’s changed, though the gardener should never say that nothing’s changed, since changes are often not obvious.

Small flower buds can be seen at branch tips of this Cherokee Sunset dogwood. Though outermost leaves have bleached in the summer sun, there has been little sign of powdery mildew that has plagued the dogwood in recent year.

Otherwise, the garden is about as good as could be expected for late summer. Roses are a bit beaten up from leaf spot that is unavoidable without spraying, even ones that claim not to require spraying. These typically look very good until July, when leaf problems appear to varying degrees. Now, they’re not horrible, but it would be impossible to argue that they are immune to foliar problems.

I’ve noticed that paperbushes (Edgeworthia chrysantha, below) have grown exceptionally this year, crowding neighbors that I supposed were safe from their spread. Many references list the mature size of the shrub as four feet tall and wide, but several are now six, maybe seven feet tall, and at least ten, probably twelve feet across. Obviously, this was not planned for when they were planted, and years ago some neighboring plants were moved to accomodate their growth.

No doubt, the recovery of the paperbushes from freeze damage several years ago is complete. After consecutive cold winters, several feet of dead wood was pruned, reducing the large shrubs from ten feet across to three. Now, they’re back, bigger than ever, and I wonder where they’ll go from here. Fortunately, perennials and smaller shrubs have been moved out of the way except for a yellow leafed spirea that cannot be transplanted and will probably be lost in another year. There are two more in better spots, so this isn’t much of a bother.

On occasion, the gardener must decide to remove an overgrown shrub, or not, but there is no consideration that the treasured paperbushes will be removed. There are few enough flowers in the garden in late winter, and if temperatures are mild, paperbushes can begin flowering as early as late January, though a month or six weeks later is more typical. I am baffled that paperbush is not more popular, even a bit further to the south where it is best suited. As is typical of many gardeners, I suspect, the more uncommon a plant, the more it is favored, and so it is.

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The perplexing yellow toad lily

While toad lilies (Tricyrtis) grow like weeds in this garden, with numerous seedlings and some requiring transplanting to avoid overcrowding, I am continually disappointed that yellow flowered cultivars have not survived more than a year, and occasionally weakly into a second. Certainly, this is not for lack of trying.

While yellow flowered toad lilies are far from the only plant to fail, or to fail more than once in this garden, I am confounded that an otherwise vigorous perennial should be more fragile due only to flower color. Very likely, the culprit to blame in these failures is me, despite pledging with each loss that the next would be given preferential positioning.

Undermining each pledge was my near certainty that toad lilies are tough enough to tolerate my neglect, so there is little doubt that I did nothing besides provide a location that seemed well suited to any toad lily. The first plantings of common cultivars were puchased from the garden center in one gallon containers, and with a larger pot of roots there was never a problem. More unusual types have been purchased by mail order from specialty nurseries, and while I appreciate their efforts to offer out of the ordinary plants, the smaller two and three inch pots are not well suited to my lack of attention after planting. But, I am compelled to try again, possibly for the last time. 

So, another order has been placed to arrive in mid September. I’ve planned the spot for planting in part sun, with shading from the late afternoon heat, and before the new toad lilies are planted I’ll work a bit more on soil preparation than in the past. I suspect that the failed toad lilies were planted into any old soil, which is fine for long term survival, but possibly a problem if they’re allowed to dry out soon after planting. By working in some extra compost, I hope to make the soil more moisture retentive, and with cooler temperatures in September the situation should be as ideal as I can make it. 

Can I survive without the yellow flowered toad lilies? Of course, but I’ve enjoyed considerable success with other toad lilies, including a handful or two that are not common varieties. All flower for extended periods in late summer, with flowers of several extending until the first frosts of early autumn. I’m delighted to try again with a few yellow flowered toad lilies.

Greener than usual

Heck, here it is late August and the grass is green. Not that I care much if the lawn turns brown for a month, but this never happens, or at least rarely, and there’s no secret why the lawn and garden are much greener than usual at this time. Rain, lots of it, and milder temperatures, with few days in the nineties and fewer days of more extreme heat.

While the garden is not irrigated, most plants are long established, and these suffer only a little even in the driest and hottest summers. Typically, there are more problems with summer maladies such as mildew and black spot than fading due to summer’s heat, and happily, this August there’s hardly a sign in the garden that we’re heading into the last few weeks of summer.

There’s always something flowering in the garden, and it should not be much of a challenge for the gardener to find sturdy shrubs and perennials that flower dependably in late summer.

At one time I nearly swore off azaleas. This is long ago enough that I don’t recall if there were a dozen, or two, but between insect and clay soil problems the number dwindled each year. Finally, only a group of three Delaware Valley Whites remained, with no plans to ever plant another. There are plenty of flowers in April without having to bother with azaleas, but then, I began testing repeat blooming Encore azaleas, and trying out a few became a dozen, then more.

Fortunately, something about Encores made them more resistant to lacebugs, which were my biggest problem, so now there are azaleas blooming in spring, but also late summer into early autumn. With plenty of moisture and mild temperatures more typical of September, several of the Encores are flowering weeks early.

Recently, I wrote about bluebeards (Caryopteris) that were once crowded, so stems have grown several feet into the driveway. Every afternoon my wife tells me that she’s headed out with her pruners, but so far I’ve been able to distract her, and possibly the chopping will wait until flowers begin to fade. I believe that with radical pruning in early autumn I’ll be able to encourage branching into open space, and away from the driveway, or at least that’s the story that’s saving the bluebeards for now.

Unrelated to the two bluebeards along the drive, the later flowering ‘Hint of Gold’ is approaching its peak bloom, though one of three is having a problem, possibly due to too much rain. I’ve seen this before, and usually the effected parts must be pruned out before the problem spreads. I’ve delayed too long on the one, so only a stem or two are left, and I’m hoping that it will be okay next year. In fact, the spot is so congested that I’ll probably not even remember it’s gone next spring, but I’d rather it stay.

Thankful for diversions from real life

There are, of course, goings on of much greater consequence than reporting on the status of toad lilies, or to update that mild August temperatures have encouraged more and earlier blooms on Encore azaleas. I view these matters with great concern, but also must escape for hours to the garden where invading nutgrass is the day’s aggravation.

It strikes me today that the latest attempt to grow Japanese anemones (Anemone × hybrida ‘Whirlwind’ , above) seems destined for failure. Certainly, there are gardeners who complain about their aggressive nature, but I’ve experienced repeated failures finding a spot for this vigorous perennial to take hold. Fortunately, I’ve enough successes not to feel a complete failure, but still I am occasionally distressed not to be able to grow anemones and a handful of other common perennials that should be foolproof.

I’ve planted single and double flowered whites, and the pink ‘September Charm’ (above), and to the best of my recollection none has managed more than a few years. Unwisely, the most recent planting of ‘Whirlwind’ was done in July, and even with extraordinary rainfall since this is perhaps asking a bit much. More than once I’ve resigned to accept that some things are meant to be, but here’s one last try, and I’ll be overjoyed if a year from now I’m whining that anemones have become a bother.

Happily, many plants thrive in this garden, with toad lilies (Tricyrtis) currently at the top of this list. In recent years, seedlings have been transplanted through the garden, and clumps have slowly spread and become increasingly dense. Only ones planted into deeper shade have struggled, though I’ve not attempted to plant into damper parts of the garden.

The few cultivars that are occasionally found in garden centers have proved to be the best performers, which is not always the case, but others that I’ve collected are not appreciably different, and often less vigorous. With a small collection of toad lilies, I expect flowers from early August into October, and sometimes through early light frosts. While flowers are not big and showy, toad lilies make a sufficient show of delicate spotted flowers that should distract any gardener from the traumas of the world.

Hard to figure

I figure that I’m of average intelligence, though certainly my wife will have a thing or two to say about this, but often it seems there are fewer answered than unanswered questions here in the garden. Why is it, I wonder, that a year ago there were many dozens of Tiger swallowtails, and this year there are few in the garden? There are just as many flowers that are favored by butterflies, probably more with abundant seedlings of Joe Pye weeds that are in bloom, and several others that I’ve planted.

No pesticides are used in this garden, ever, or at least none in the past twenty years, so I must presume that the explanation is natural cycles, and next year they’ll be back. This is not the first time that swallowtails have been in short numbers, but sometimes it’s honeybees or bumblebees that come up missing. A year or two, dragonflies seemed fewer darting above the koi pond. This year, the number of bees is astonishing.

I’ve been corrected by a reader that ones I presumed to be bumblebees are actually carpenter bees, but this year and most years these are seen in abundance, and with Mountain mint flowering over the past several weeks and Winterberry hollies before that, the number of other bees in the garden seems substantially increased over recent years. By doing nothing new on my part.  

Probably, there’s someone out there who’s able to explain these things, but for now I’ll just accept that this is a completely natural cycle, and there’s little or nothing I can do to change it. Don’t tell me to plant more of anything, or something different. That’s not the problem.

I’ve noted the lack of caterpillars on redbuds this summer. I don’t recall exactly, but it was last year or maybe the year before that I was stung by caterpillars as I brushed against low hanging branches to pull a weed. I researched to find out the name of this particular stinging caterpillar (White Flannel moth, below) since I don’t think that tent caterpillars in general are stinging types, but after seeing them on the redbuds in consecutive years, this year there are none. Certainly, this is not due to anything I did since I let the caterpillars do their thing, which defoliated about half of the large redbuds before they moved on to the next cycle in their life. I’ve always figured that part of the cycle would be to lay eggs on branches or in the ground below the host tree that would be next year’s, but that’s been skipped over this year. I can’t explain. 

There are now tent caterpillars on one of the Winterberry hollies (below) that are in the same vicinity as the redbuds, but the caterpillars are too small to tell if they’re the same stinging ones. Again, I’ve no plans to pull the tents out of the hollies, which is the friendliest way to be rid of these rather than spraying something to kill them that might be a problem for something else. Today, there are lots of tiny caterpillars, and not much foliage as been damaged, but that will start soon. Why let the caterpillars eat the hollies’ leaves?

The deciduous hollies will start into dormancy in another month or so, and other than looking at the caterpillar-ravaged shrub, this is not really a problem as far as the hollies’ well being. I don’t think the caterpillars will bother the nice crop of berries, so why not let them live? Without identifying the caterpillars, I don’t know what kind of moth or butterfly these will turn into, but whatever they are, they’re welcome in this garden.

Remarkably, very little to complain about

Always, the gardener can find something, or many somethings to complain about. Certainly, there are a few perfect weeks, but then there’s every other day. If not the weather, which is only occasionally ideal, there are weeds, bugs, rabbits, deer, and snakes to disturb the paradise. Being of sturdy constitution, the gardener makes the best of less than ideal circumstances, and is thankful for each day.

Gordlinia approaches peak bloom with hardly a beetle in sight. If the shrubby tree flowers a few weeks earlier the white blooms are marred by Japanese beetles. Gordlinia is a hybrid between Franklinia and Gordonia. Until one was removed in failing health a few years ago, Franklinia bloomed earlier in the summer so that beetles were a constant presence.

After a brief period of typical Virginia heat in early summer,  mild temperatures and plentiful rainfall have prevailed in recent weeks. Severe storms have dumped buckets of rain, with a few washouts but otherwise quite welcomed, and a few days ago disaster was averted as a tornado veered a few miles to the north.

With abundant moisture and with few periods of extreme heat, the garden has not faded as expected in a typical summer. Yes, beebalms (Monarda didyma) are mildewed, and foliage of native dogwoods (below) is spotted (though no powdery mildew, a surprise in August), but that’s a pretty short list of grievances for August. Oh, there are tent caterpillars in one of the Winterberry hollies (Ilex verticillata), but this shouldn’t amount to much and there are no plans to do anything about this minor infestation.

Leaves of native dogwoods are spotted, but this is typical for summer and in mid August there is no sign of powdery mildew that frequently afflicts dogwoods. By mid September leaves will begin to turn to their autumn color, and spots will not be noticeable except close up.

With plenty of moisture, weeds are a constant aggravation, and particularly nutgrass in the damp rear garden. I don’t worry at all about it invading the small areas of lawn, but as soon as small clumps are removed from the edges of planting beds, there’s more the next day, and the next. There’s always something, but any weed is easier to pull in damp soil than when it’s dry, and at least it’s not blazing hot.

Toad lilies are flowering on a typical schedule with Samurai flowering first, and others beginning to bloom. Peak flowering will be through September, with blooms often persisting into October.

Summer Ice daphne does not flower as heavily as its neighbor in the garden, Eternal Fragrance, but there will be scattered blooms from late March until frost.

Too far astray

I’ve been informed by higher-ups in this household that two yellow leafed bluebeards (Caryopteris × clandonensis ‘Worcester Gold’) have strayed too far onto the driveway. Something must be done, immediately. My wife says four feet, and even our small cars can’t get past without scraping the shrubs, or the Japanese maple on the far side. To be contrary I say it’s only eighteen inches, which is hardly anything to be bothered about. But it is.

Crowded for years by a cypress that was cut out earlier this year, Worcester Gold bluebeard inched towards the driveway. Now, it’s too many inches so that cars must drive over branch tips.

No matter, if some action is not promised, and soon, she will chop out the shrubs herself. I know from experience, the result will not be pretty. Instead, I’ll do the chopping, but more gently, and this will wait several weeks until the bluebeards are past bloom. Is this too much to ask?

No doubt, the bluebeards were not planted at the edge of the driveway as they seem, but as neighboring plants grew the branches inched further in that direction so that the center of the shrub appears to be a foot onto the asphalt. Neighbors have now been removed, or cut back so that there’s room to grow, so after flowering the bluebeards will be pruned to encourage growth into the bed and away from the driveway.

The yellow flowered passionflower (Passiflora lutea, above) has not yet made an appearance, and I worry that it has perished beneath the cover of a wide spreading Oakleaf hydrangea. Last year the vine was particularly vigorous, climbing past the hydrangea and far up into an Okame cherry. This part of the garden is so overgrown that I haven’t ventured into the bushes to find out for certain, but I would expect the passionflower to have climbed into daylight long before now. This vine should be hard to kill, but perhaps I’ve done it.

The purple passionflower (Passiflora incarnata, above) is late to flower this year. For whatever reason, the vine did not grow from its crown until very late, though sprouts regularly emerged from root suckers several feet from where they should be. These were removed from between stones in the patio and eight feet away growing up through a dense clump of toad lilies, and finally it’s growing as it should. But, flowering will be weeks later than usual. There is some small benefit to this late bloom. Japanese beetles that flock to the flowers are gone by several weeks.

Waterloo Blue passionflower is planted with a support for the first four feet, and then it will climb into a green leafed Japanese maple.

In recent weeks I planted a new passionflower, ‘Waterloo Blue’ (Passiflora caerulea ‘Waterloo Blue’), which already has a few blooms. I planted it where it’s likely to get sun, even as the garden grows, and as it reaches the top of its support it will grow into a green leafed Japanese maple. This seems like a wonderful idea, and with blue and white flowers it is a distinct contrast to the purple flowered passionflower.

Stems of the passionflowers are not woody, so they die back to the crown each winter. I’m surprised that many gardeners expect these are not cold hardy, and while there are tropical passionflowers, I’ve found that a cold winter only delays their appearance to later in the spring. While some woodier vines can be troublesome, passionflower never strays further than expected.