New Year's Garden Resolutions

It's that time of year again when we promise to improve ourselves and our lives in the freshness of a brand new year. I try to keep those promises rather modest because, well, if I set the bar fairly low it's tough to be disappointed in myself. So there will be no grandiose declarations about new workout regimens or truly life-changing activities. But before getting bogged down in the challenges the year throws at us, I will set our some modest yet worthwhile (and achievable) resolutions for being a better gardener.

1. Mulch frequently. Smothering weeds, retaining moisture, and adding organic matter--mulch has the garden trifecta. Not only is it totally worth the time and effort to reap these benefits, but mulching doesn't cost me a dime. There is a municipal mulch pile literally at the end of my street. It's locally recycled brush ground up by the city, so it's environmentally easy-going on a number of levels (few resources used for transport, no packaging, etc.). Also, it's completely free to whomever takes the initiative to shovel it into his or her car/truck/bucket. Sure, I find the occasional piece of metal debris, cigarette butt, or un-mulched branch that made it through the chipper inexplicably unscathed, but it's free and did I mention it's down the street? Basically I have no excuse for not keeping this garden mulched constantly, and I am reminded of that each time the weeds threaten to overtake the place. In 2010, I will mulch frequently.

(This is not OK.)

2. Plant a Japanese maple. Yes, I've chosen to go with a Japanese maple for my empty shady corner after a minimally exhaustive quest for a shrub. Dogwoods and dwarf conifers sounded appealing, don't get me wrong, but I think this is the only spot in the garden where a Japanese maple could conceivably thrive.

I shouldn't pass up that opportunity. I'm still on the fence about the particular cultivar, although 'Bloodgood' is a frontrunner. This spring will entail a search of local nurseries that will hopefully lead me to a lovely weeping variety. Regardless of what the exact specimen turns out to be, in 2010 I will plant a Japanese maple.

3. Fix that @$!# front border. The tiny strip of solid, nutrient-free clay that I call my front border has been the bane of my gardening existence for five years. Over that time I've reclaimed some small swathes of land from the lawn and planted as much as I could, from the dry shade under the red maple to the scorched, sunny area next to the driveway. But this year I laid down newspaper and mulch to smother enough grass to make this a respectable garden border.

(Perhaps those basils need a little more space?)

Hostas, coleus, and more woodland wildflowers are on tap for the shade area, and some Hakone grass (Hackonechloa macra) may find its way behind the bearded irises. For the sunny part, purple and white prairie clovers (Dalea purpurea and D. candida), various phlox, more salvia, prairie grasses, and some sweet alyssum (which is tougher than its name implies) will fill the newly cleared space. If last year's additions move to the "creep" phase of the perennial cycle, "sleep, creep, leap," then the border will continue to make strides. "Finishing" this part of the garden is not what I intend or desire (because I don't believe a garden is ever finished). In 2010, I will fix that @$!# border.

4. Grow more vegetables. I've got the raised bed, I'm choosing the seeds, it's time to increase the edibles in this garden. People contributed wonderful advice during the seed giveaway contest, reminding me that there is no shortage of resources or support. All that monitoring of the sunlight in the southern portion of the yard will hopefully pay off, and I must remain diligent about watching for pests and diseases. In a bit of serendipitous timing, I've been working on an article about vegetable gardening, so I have no lack of familiarity with the subject. It's time. In 2010, I will grow more vegetables.


There are all sorts of other goals I want to accomplish in the new year, such as dividing a bunch of houseplants, chilling bulbs for forcing in October, establishing a second compost pile, moving some herbs to a different location, and planting halfway decent containers, but I know better than to resolve for more than I can handle. These four resolutions represent the most important changes needed in the garden this year. In 2010, I will accomplish them. What about you? What are your garden resolutions for 2010?

Book Review: Gardens, An Essay on the Human Condition

It is an odd thing to read a book about gardens that is written by someone who is not actually a gardener. But, then again, this book is about much more than the growing and arranging of living plants that comprises our notion of a garden.

Robert Pogue Harrison's book is a discussion of the essence and significance of gardens in literature, including poetry, prose, and religious texts. As such, it explains how gardens reflect and embody the human soul. It ranges from different philosophical interpretations of gardens to depictions of them in Renaissance Italian literature to contrasting the symbolism of gardens in the Bible and the Koran, and much more in between. Twentieth-century and twenty-first-century garden imagery is addressed as well, creating a whirlwind of garden interpretation through many continents and centuries in barely 200 pages.

The variety of subject matter sometimes gives Gardens an uneven tempo; the book periodically lurches from an elegant, cogent discussion to a sudden critique of an entirely different era in time or aspect of humanity. Unsurprisingly, Harrison is at his best when discussing Italian literature, which he teaches at Stanford. (I must admit at this point that Renaissance Italian history was my concentration in college, and therefore my familiarity with this subject matter may bias my opinion that these chapters are the best.) Quality expositions on other writers abound, however, particularly Harrison's explanation of Epicurean philosophy and its contortion by modern readers. This chapter alone makes the book worthwhile.

I enjoyed how Gardens taught me about writers whose works I haven't read, such as Pablo Neruda and Karel Capek, the latter who shares with me an understanding of the frustrations of bad soil: "And if you have no appreciation for this strange beauty, let fate bestow upon you a couple rods of clay--clay like lead, squelching and primeval clay out of which coldness oozes..." (31). Harrison's discussions of ancient Greek philosophy and Italian literature also informed and even enthralled me. But while I enjoy reading cantos of The Divine Comedy in Italian (or trying to, because Dante's work is so difficult), other readers might not share my sentiment. Likewise, Harrison's penchant to occasionally veer off into overly academic territory, such as the "objective correlatives" in modern literature, detracts from the garden-based interpretations rather than complementing them.

This book is a lovely read for those interested in philosophy, literature, poetry, and thought-provoking, unorthodox discussions of religious texts. A traditional gardening book it is not; a learned treatise it is.

Dear FTC: I received no compensation for this review. I bought the book with my own hard-earned cash. Thank you.

Contest Winners!

I would like to say a huge thank you to everyone who participated in the seed giveaway contest, which was generously brought to us by Renee's Garden! I really appreciate all the tips, ideas, and encouragement from my fellow gardeners. I am truly thrilled to be starting this vegetable garden, and I will be sharing my successes and failures with it right here all season long next year!

So without further ado, our first winner of the Rainbow Kitchen Garden Collection is Miss Nessa!


And our second winner of the Basil Lover's Bonanza is Dee at Red Dirt Ramblings!


Congratulations to the winners, and I will contact you for your mailing address. Thanks again to everybody who commented and to Renee and Nellie at Renee's Garden!

Could it be?

It is!


It's my forced hyacinths beginning to do something!! Now, for those of you who are experienced at forcing bulbs, my excitement probably seems a little overdone, but this is my first attempt at forcing and I can't believe it might be working! I am a bit of a bulb skeptic; don't get me wrong, I like tulips, hyacinths, crocus and all those, but they're not topping my list when I think of favorite plants. And honestly I'm not a big fan of lilies (apologies to lily-lovers out there!).

However, if I actually get these hyacinths to bloom in bleak, miserable February, then a shift in my relationship with bulbs might be underway!

So here's my question--do I water them now? The soil is pretty dry to the touch, but I don't want to water them at the wrong time. Come on, bulb experts, help me out! It's only been about 4 weeks since I potted these, so what do I do now?


Like many others around the country, we were greeted by this landscape this morning. The snow is continuing to fall and we may have 8-10" total by the time it's all over. At least it's lovely for now!


Don't forget to enter the seed giveaway contest if you haven't done so already! The contest closes at 7pm CDT on Sunday Dec. 13th so there is still plenty of time!

Seed Giveaway Contest!

What is this random rectangle?


It's the new vegetable bed! Tech Support graciously constructed this beauty to my specifications, and now its soil, compost and topping of leaves (hidden under the snow) are mixing and hopefully making a rich base for next year's veggie crops. (I didn't fill the entire raised bed because I got worn out by hauling 40-lb. bags of topsoil and compost, so it's still a work in progress and yes I am lazy.)

Until now my edible gardening has consisted of containers, my herb garden, and a failed attempt at growing peppers in the spot where the rain garden now resides. It failed because that location is way to shady to grow any vegetables, especially bell peppers, but it was our first year in the house and I hadn't thoroughly evaluated the sun situation around the whole yard. Live and learn!

But for the past few years I've been watching how and when the sun's rays sweep across different parts of the garden and how long they stay there in the various seasons. Not surprisingly, the south side of the yard has the most light, and hence we literally squeezed this raised bed into this little patch of the yard. My containers of vegetables grew well on the south side of the house this past summer, and that was in a weird summer with relatively few sunny days, so I'm fairly confident I'll get adequate light here.

What does this have to do with a seed giveaway contest? I'm getting there. I'm already voraciously planning what will grow here next year and how I can maximize this bed, which measures 9x3. I have a trellis for the cucumbers and summer squash so as to get some plants growing upwards. (It's getting put in after the winter so it is not pictured.)

I am focusing on vegetables that I am confident my family will eat, so some decisions were pretty easy. For example, neither of my kids like peas or beans, so I am not growing either of these popular crops next year. Rather than try to heroically turn them into legume-lovers, I'm going to wait until the following year and maybe by then they'll be so excited to eat what they grow that I can slip some peas past them. Plus by then the soil will really need the nitrogen-fixing. But for this year I'm devoting the space to carrots and broccoli, which I know will get consumed and which I spend considerable money on at the grocery store.

Of course there will be bell peppers, but the chili peppers will be relegated to the containers where I can make sure they're in the absolute sunniest spot. I will probably only grow 2-3 tomato plants (gasp!). Why? Because they take up a lot of space, and in general I'm trying to follow the maxim of starting small. I don't want to bite off more than I can proverbially chew. Spinach, onions, Swiss chard and various lettuces will likely round out the menu, although some beets may make a random appearance as the outlier plant.

So, what does this have to do with a seed giveaway contest?? The folks at Renee's Garden sent me two lovely seed collections for two lucky readers, which you saw pictured above. One is the Rainbow Kitchen Garden Collection.

It contains Bright Lights Chard, Tricolor Bush Beans, Garden Candy Cherry Tomatoes, Jewel-Tone Sweet Peppers, and Monet's Mix Mesclun Lettuces.


The second is Basil Lover's Bonanza, which includes Scented Basil Trio, Italian Pesto Basil, Mrs. Burns' Lemon Basil, Salad Leaf Basil, and Green Windowbox Basil. Fabulous!

So here's how it works: leave me a comment with your best vegetable-growing tip, and I will draw two numbers on Sunday, December 13, to decide the winners! Your tip can be general advice about edible gardening, or it can be something specific to the plants I discussed. What should I know about growing and caring for those particular vegetables? What pests or diseases could really get them? Or what's the best variety out there that I should choose? I mentioned I'll only have a couple tomato plants, so what are the downright best heirloom varieties that you just couldn't live without? Or, is there a glaring omission in my choices? Is there something I must grow that I'm not thinking of? Let me hear it!

I will close the contest at 7pm CDT on the 13th, choose the numbers and announce the winners. Your comment will be assigned its number by its order, obviously. Only one comment per person will count for the contest, but you're welcome to keep telling me other ideas if you want!

So let's hear what you got! And you might win a nice present for yourself, just in time for Christmas!

(Many thanks to Nellie and Renee of Renee's Garden for our lovely prizes!)

The quest continues...

When I last left off with my quest for the right shrub, I had narrowed down the choices to sweetspire (Itea virginica) and pagoda dogwood (Cornus alternifolia). The particular front-runner was 'Golden Shadows' dogwood, whose yellow leaves would complement the purple and yellow color scheme of the newly planted border.


I received a number of encouraging comments with helpful recommendations! Ninebark (Physocarpus opulifolius) and oakleaf hydrangea (H. quercifolia) came up repeatedly, and these are both certainly great shrubs. I had considered ninebark at the start of the search, but I'm concerned this site is too shady. I believe ninebark can thrive in partial shade, but this location leans to the "full" side of "partial-to-full shade." Oakleaf hydrangea is on my radar screen, but I wanted to consider some other options before going with a hydrangea. (I think I'm suffering from hydrangea overkill. I see them everywhere, and I'm feeling a little burnt out on them. That's not to impugn anyone else's love for hydrangeas, but for me it's a maybe...)

Some of you fabulous people even offered me shrub seedlings right away! And I intend to take you up on those offers of St. John's Wort (Hypericum frondosum) and species pagoda dogwood (you know who you are!). In fact, while evaluating those shrubs' chances in this location, I realized how many other places I could put flowering shrubs in my yard. (Isn't garden blogging great?) But I decided there are indeed other places for those shrubs: a sunnier spot for the Hypericum and another currently bland, shady border for the dogwood. (Bland shady borders are not lacking around here, apparently!) Those are topics for another day, however, and I still felt something else was needed for my problematic place by the fence.

So I started to think of other types of woody plants that could perhaps grow here...trees! Why just have a shrub when I could have a tree? But it would have to be a diminutive one; I don't think an oak or hickory would be appropriate for this little spot. But as I mentioned before, this site is very sheltered from the wind, so I wondered if I could indulge my desire for a Japanese maple?

Japanese maples are notoriously fussy, but perhaps this oddball location could work. Fortunately, Chicagoland Gardening magazine ran a cover story on Japanese maples in September (along with my piece on native sedges, sorry for the blatant self-promotion!). Deb Terrill's article stated, "A taller tree canopy, large evergreens, buildings and fences can all offer some protection." Perfect! I have all of those things here! My soil may need some amending with leaf mold or mulch to bring the pH down little, but this is a real breakthrough! With the Siberian irises I planted near this spot, I could have a little Eastern/Eurasian vignette going here.

Then I started to think of the downsides to a Japanese maple: What if it died? I would be horrified to have a tree die. A little perennial here and there is one thing, but a beautiful (and expensive) tree?? And what about wintertime? How interesting would more bare branches really be? If it's a tree I want, how about an evergreen? There's no better winter interest than that!

And I am sorely lacking good evergreens. There are my hated yews that I keep complaining about, and two scraggly spruces near the edge of my driveway that aren't aging gracefully. But what about this?


I could have purple cones to match my purple coneflowers! I am in close proximity to a nursery specializing in rare dwarf conifers. (Remember Rich's Foxwillow Pines, all you Spring Flingers?) I could finally have some delicious weeping conifer, preferably a Canadian hemlock (Tsuga canadensis). This photo is of a spruce (Picea spp.), but you get the idea:

It would have a unique shape, provide structure, and of course have the winter interest factor. But would it get enough sun?

That idea slowed me down. According to Rich's catalogs, Tsuga canadensis 'Pendula' can take partial shade and prefers protected sites. But what if this site is too shady and I end up with a midget conifer that looks really disproportionate? Oh, the risks of gardening! Why do I feel like I'm gambling?! So I set two tasks for myself before getting further confused. First, I need to research Japanese maple cultivars to see if there's one that might be happiest here. Second is to find out if my preferred Tsuga is even available and get some honest feedback about its sun requirements. And of course I could just go find that 'Golden Shadows' dogwood and be done with it, but I'm not quite ready to end the quest yet...

The Thankful Gardener

I'm thankful for tulips that know they're perennials and act like it.


I'm thankful for reliable performers...


...and pleasant new surprises.


I'm thankful for the few butterflies we had this year, and that my garden could offer them some food and respite, even if only for a moment.




I'm thankful for garden buddies who provide blogalong passalongs.


I'm thankful for botanical oddities that keep me guessing...


...peppers that did the best they could in adverse conditions...


...and plants that remind me to pay attention to them, even when they're relegated to a less-than-perfect spot and deserve better.


I'm thankful for the rewards that gardening provides...




...and the continual promise of more beauty to come, year in and year out.


Most of all I'm thankful for you, dear readers, because without you I'd just be talking to myself! Happy Thanksgiving!

Book Review: Flora Mirabilis

I had the chance to review a copy of Flora Mirabilis: How Plants Have Shaped World Knowledge, Health, Wealth, and Beauty, a collaboration between National Geographic and the Missouri Botanical Garden written by Catherine Herbert Howell. While there are a number of reasons to read this book, notably its plant profiles and resplendent illustrations, the foremost is its focus on the significance of plants to human civilization.

Flora Mirabilis summarizes the use of plants through history, from the domestication of cereal crops thousands of years ago to the modern utility of rubber and cacao. It explains how people have employed plants medicinally, gastronomically, economically, and culturally, and this book highlights 27 particularly important plants, such as wheat, rice, cotton, and orchids. With intellectual yet readable prose, Howell describes how plants drove the age of discovery and sustained international trade long before "globalization" was a household term. For example, the desire for black pepper (the seeds of a vine) fueled Columbus's voyage, and sugarcane maintained the triangular trade of sugar, rum, and slaves between the New and Old Worlds. The terrible consequences of such botanical commerce are not overlooked, and neither are the social changes engendered by the spread of plants now consumed worldwide, including potatoes, tobacco, and coffee.

Howell focuses most of the book on the pre-modern era and moves fairly quickly through the last two centuries. This is understandable, as synthetics have increasingly replaced the original botanical sources of food and medicine, but it changes the pace and focus of the narrative. Conservation, ethnobotany, and the cut flower industry become the emphasis of later chapters. However, the evolution of botanical illustration is an additional subplot woven throughout the book. It not only complements the beautiful illustrations but also rounds out the rich history of humans' relationships with plants, which was much more intimate and complex before the Industrial Revolution.

I have been gardening since childhood, but my true passion (and educational background) is history; therefore, this book spoke to my two favorite interests. It is not a traditional gardening book or a how-to, and it may not appeal equally to those less enamored with the study of history. But if you enjoy exploring the ways we use, periodically abuse, and interact with members of the plant kingdom, then Flora Mirabilis will be intellectually invigorating and visually stimulating.

This book is, as they say, "available wherever books are sold." Happy reading!

Dear FTC: I was provided a free download of a pdf version of Flora Mirabilis. I did not receive any other compensation, nor was I directed/asked/cajoled to provide a favorable opinion. I am a subscriber to National Geographic, but that is paid for with my own hard-earned cash. Thank you.

Love for the Houseplants

For much of the year, houseplants are second-class citizens. They're shuffled around, moved outside for their allotment of fresh air and sunshine (like convicts in a prison yard), or, if left inside, they're overshadowed by the sexier outdoor garden which commands attention with its changing colors, peaking perennials, and vegetable harvests.

In my house they are even crowded on poorly lit window ledges to make room for our Christmas tree because the only location that can accommodate the tree happens to be the best window for the plants. So which member of the plant kingdom gets priority? The dead conifer, of course!


(The houseplant classic: spider plants!)

But when the garden enters hibernation and the Christmas tree is being ground into wood chips, it's the houseplants that are still colorful, still verdant, still recharging me by bringing life and lushness to the surroundings. So it's time I show the houseplants some love. That doesn't necessarily mean pampering because most houseplants are unfussy to begin with (especially mine or else they'll die quickly). What they really need is some interested attention.


(Night-blooming cereus with overwintering coleus and my aloe in the background.)

In the months of low daylight, abundant water and fertilizer will only confuse or even damage houseplants by contradicting their natural tendency to slow their growth. Houseplants are tender perennials and they respond to seasonal changes just like their outdoor brethren. Rather than flood them or push them into artificial growth spurts, it's best to monitor houseplants and water them thoroughly only when they're certifiably dry. If you stick you finger into the dirt and it's dry to your first knuckle, it's time to water. Let the water soak through until it's pooling in the tray (you've gotta have trays and pots with drainage!). Then let the plant be until it passes the dryness test again.


(The largest of my three purple passion plants, with my Christmas cactus. Pardon those dead leaves.)

That time period varies, however, since heat in our houses can cause houseplants to dry out faster than during the summer months. That's why these plants need attention--are they remaining moist in a dim corner, or are they baking near a heat vent? Either way they'll probably survive as long as you're aware of their conditions and take appropriate steps to care for them.


(Tillandsias, my new favorite plants. I run these under the faucet once every week or two, but that's another post)

A great way to know if your houseplants are happy is simply to touch them. Do they feel floppy? You're probably overwatering. Crispy? They're likely dried out. If the leaves of your jade plant are mushy then it needs water. If the Christmas cactus is drooping, give it more light and less water. None of this is hardcore botany, just a careful eye and caring touch. Just show them some love!

The quest begins

I like shrubs but I lack shrubs. I have two little spireas that are still recovering from a shoddy transplanting job I did two years ago. I also have a lilac I adore, a honeysuckle that bores me, and a forsythia I weep for. I inherited these three when we bought the house.

(Bor-ing)

Why do I weep for the forsythia? Because I love these harbingers of spring that brighten up the muddy March garden when it's struggling for breath after getting bodyslammed by winter. Unfortunately, my forsythia was planted in a terrible location: soil filled with lava rocks in deep shade. Consequently, it blooms anemically every spring, nowhere close to its full potential.

(It looks happy enough, but...)

Why not move it, you ask? Because those who planted it put it directly over the electrical, gas, and cable lines! Digging up this shrub means risking life, limb, and destroying cable TV for the entire neighborhood, which would undoubtedly result in an angry mob swarming my house with torches and pitchforks.

But enough about anemic forsythias and angry mobs; I'm looking to the future! The north border that I reclaimed from the lava rocks is crying out for a shrub to anchor its corner (or at least that's what I think it's saying). It has a tree at one end (which I believe is a box elder) and a number of perennials waiting to burst to life next year: 'City of Haarlem' hyacinths and 'El Cid' tulips in early spring, nectaroscordums and 'Ruffled Velvet' irises in late spring and purple coneflowers in summer that will hopefully be joined by yellow coneflowers (Ratbida pinnata), provided that the seed I have is viable and the seedlings survive. There are also tufts of little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium), which are blogalong passalongs from Mr. McGregor's Daughter.


(One shrub, please! A specimen, not a traveling hedge-former.)

We'll see how that all pans out next year, but it will be a big improvement over the previous state of the border! As you've likely figured out, purple and yellow is the predominant color scheme. As you've also noticed, that's a lot of flowers and herbaceous material and not much (or really any) woody material. So I thought for a bit of symmetry and structure I should add a shrub to the currently empty corner. It would provide fall color and winter interest as well as a contrast to all the perennials. So I started searching...

This site is challenging, to put it mildly. It receives barely any sun because it's on the north side of the house and at the confluence of our fence with a neighbor's tree just above it. So shade tolerance is a must. The soil is my terrible clay along with a good dose of remnant lava rocks mixed in. On the bright side, there was a peony growing here when I moved in. I transplanted it and its brethren from this north bed to the front yard where they've exploded in the full sun, so I am confident that something can grow here. But what?

My first thought was goat's beard (Aruncus dioicus), which is actually an herbaceous perennial and would kind of negate the whole reasoning behind the shrub. But hear me out! Goat's beard grows up to 6' tall, thus is the size of a shrub, and it's a shade-loving native. It blooms with shaggy white panicles in early summer, hence the name. The problem would be lack of fall color and winter interest, which are two of the main reasons I want a shrub. It's a possibility, a fall-back, but not a lock.

Next I thought about a sweetspire (Itea virginica). It shares many attributes with the goat's beard: white panicles, shade tolerant, manageable size, North American native. Even better than the goat's beard, this one has gorgeous fall color and will provide more structure as a truly woody plant. Chicagoland Grows developed a particularly fiery specimen named 'Scarlet Beauty' that is proven hardy to the Chicago region. Perhaps a frontrunner?


(Lots of hibernating herbaceous stuff, could use some contrast.)

Then I started to think a little bigger. What about a pagoda dogwood (Cornus alternifolia)? It has a wonderful shape and would certainly add the structure I'm looking for. And I could just prune it to keep it at the correct size, right? I wouldn't neglect to prune a shrub, would I? That 'Golden Shadows' would look fabulous with the purple and yellow color scheme, that's for sure! But would this site be too shady for it? Does it maybe hopefully get more sun than I'm giving it credit for?

At this point I was thrilled with the possibilities and confused about what plant was truly right for this site. Yes, it's mostly shady thanks to the fence, but that also means it's a protected site, probably the most sheltered on our whole property. So then I began to think some more, and many other ideas swirled through my head above and beyond just shrubs. I'll share them with you in another upcoming post, as my quest for the shade border shrub continues...

Muse Day is graciously hosted by Carolyn Gail at Sweet Home and Garden Chicago. Please visit to see more thoughts on this first day of the month!

2009 MVP

As I watch the MLB playoffs inch closer to the World Series, my thoughts turn to the question of what makes an MVP? What are those qualities found in the best standout of the year? Sheer skill, nearing perfection, is certainly a factor. Often such a performance is lightening caught in a bottle, other times it's a perennial quality that makes itself felt year after year.

An MVP is a true leader, taking charge when needed but also knowing when to step back and provide support so other role players can shine. Most importantly, an MVP improves the group as a whole, whether that group is a baseball team or, as in my case, a garden.

So I reflected on the team members of my garden this past year to find my MVP--Most Valuable Plant.

The Canadian columbines (Aquilegia canadensis) launched the season with a floriferous start, as always.



The salvias bloomed profusely, albeit only for a relatively short time.

(Salvia nemorosa)


(S. nemorosa 'Plumosa' hanging over the dugout railing.)

The astilbe made a surprise comeback from what I had thought was certain death. But this would earn it Comeback Player of the Year, not the coveted MVP. It was far too weak and scraggly for that.


I raved about my Coleus all year.

It was certainly vigorous and colorful, and I'm overwintering a portion of it, making it into a sort of perennial. Is that enough to earn it the award? Maybe, but it did nearly kill my spearmint and it hasn't proven it can go the distance and make it into next year's garden.

My Joe-Pye weed (Eupatorium maculatum) was definitely a leader in this unusually rainy, gloomy season. He showed off his dusty purple blooms on tall, proud stalks. And he attracted the one measly Monarch that wandered into my yard this year.


But compared to his performance last year, 2009 was a bit of a letdown. Admittedly, the lack of sunlight and butterflies isn't his fault by any means, but he bloomed later than usual and just wasn't as vigorous as previous years or as covered in charming winged insects.


The lilac made a good showing with weeks of fragrant blooms that were so big they practically drooped off the stems. Since my forsythia languishes in shade, this is pretty much the only flowering shrub in my garden at this point.


But it wasn't just about flashiness. No, this year I decided, as the sole member of the awards committee here, that the 2009 Most Valuable Plant is...Great Blue Lobelia! (Lobelia siphilitica)


This plant has really come into its own in the past couple years, and now it's a reliable beauty despite its less-than-showy location, which is my fault for poor planning. It's reached its maximum height of about 3 feet, and this year it bloomed in late July, a little to the early side for this species, just when it was becoming apparent that the season would be unavoidably disappointing and other summer bloomers were running out of steam prematurely.

It was a nectar source for the bumblebees that hung around the Joe Pye and the goldenrod (Solidago flexicaulis). Speaking of other plants, the lobelia created a rich blue contrast to that goldenrod's cheery yellow and, simultaneously, a scatter of color amidst the foliage of spent peonies and obedient plants (Physostegia virginiana). For more proof, see the header photo.

(A team player with goldenrod.)


(Flowers among the foliage.)

While managing all this, the lobelia survived constant pummeling from gutter overflow. I sited it in a poorly drained, frequently flooded spot on purpose because of its water tolerance, and even in this year's exceptional rains, it never broke a stem under the weight of the mini waterfall above it, nor did it drown in its near-permanent puddle.

I don't have as many pictures of this team leader as I should, but I can assure you this plant shared its beauty with me every day. Located just outside my front door in the back of the border, the lobelia was the first plant that greeted me as I walked outside each day.


Congratulations, Great Blue Lobelia!