Discerning palates

Perhaps this is why deer seem to seek out and devour my cardoon.
They've also been known to eat the carrots and parsnips. This sign is
from the herb garden in the fabulous New York Botanical Garden.
More about that adventure in a post-to-come.

The buffet at sillydoggarden was open for business last night. The deer visited. Again.

I knew I was courting trouble by planting the last of the cardoon in the unprotected front beds. But I couldn't help myself. Sure enough, this morning all four transplants were found uprooted, tops all gone. Damn deer. And the parsley transplanted last week -- all gone. Damn, damn deer. At least the parsley transplanted Sunday afternoon is still intact. Perhaps the rudbeckia will shield it from those long-legged fiends. But I thought the lady's mantle, euphorbia and witch hazel would shield the cardoon, too. Time will tell, I guess.

Here's what's left of the front-yard cardoon. Notice the
one remaining leaf and formerly healthy roots.

But there's more. Or, actually, less. The Cramers' Amazon celosia, first spotted last year at The Garden House in Solon Springs, Wis., and seed ordered this year from Johnny's Selected Seeds, was chomped. Also on the menu last night, the variegated burnet and the seed dahlias ('Black Beauty' from Thompson & Morgan). The burnet, a perennial, will recover but those dahlias are toast. Fortunately, I also planted them in several other locations and in pots so I'm confident I will get to inspect some blooms at some point. I have more cardoon, too, in pots and in the back beds protected at night by motion-detecting sprinklers. It always pays to plant more than you think you'll need or want.

This one is gone, but not forgotten. I was excited to find the seed for this celosia this spring after buying transplants last year at The Garden House. The maroon and green foliage is what's really killer -- the magenta spiky bloom is merely a bonus. Two neighboring Cramers' Amazon transplants are intact. Keep your fingers crossed
that they'll survive the summer.

California dreaming

Eschscholzia californica comes in shades of white, red, pink,
yellow and orange. I prefer the common orange.

Legend has it that the petals of the California poppy filled the soil with gold. If only that were true, California could find some relief from its budget woes. Nevertheless, the plant is putting on a high-dollar show in my garden. Maybe it's the lack of rain (which is beginning to exact a toll on some plants); the plant flowers better when it's kept on the dry side.

The seeds for these plants arrived in a Christmas card several years ago. A gardener friend of some friends was visiting from California one summer and they brought her by to check out the garden. That winter she sent us the seed and we haven't done without them since. Care is too easy; they germinate each spring and I thin aggressively, pulling out seedlings by the handful. It's hard not to smile when you round the corner and see the pool of sunshine.

I pulled out handfuls of seedlings to give the daylily (left)
a little room to breathe.

These poppies moved themselves here without any help
from me. That red plant in the back is a
columnar barberry. I like this mix of hot colors.

No more Smith & Hawken

This is kind of a bummer. Smith & Hawken is closing down. I always loved getting the company's catalog because it was full of beautiful things for the garden. A tad expensive, but sometimes you could get a good deal on a sale. There used to be a store on Grand Avenue in St. Paul -- I remember visiting it when shopping with friends in The Cities and seeing the most beautiful amaryllis display -- but the store locator only lists one in Edina.

Here's more interesting stuff about the store, via gardenrant.com, where guest ranter Maureen Decombe has a well-done essay.

No-name irises

The first bearded iris to bloom.

As much as I like knowing the specific variety of a plant, sometimes, in the end, it doesn't really matter. Take these two bearded irises for example. The gold one is the first to bloom here; the first bud opened a week ago. It came from a stand of irises at my father-in-law's Chicago-area home. They were planted many years ago and the name has long been forgotten.

Found in a Nebraska cemetery.

The name of the pale yellow iris, which started blooming just a day later, also is unknown. It's from a country cemetery in southwestern Nebraska, where it rings the graves of my great-grandparents. The tiny graveyard is in the middle of nowhere, and who knows who originally planted the iris or how many springs they have bloomed. We sliced off a couple of pieces of rhizome when we visited about 10 years ago. It was one of those perfect fall Nebraska afternoons, when everything was blue sky and burnished earth, and it seemed appropriate to take a piece of the day back to Minnesota with us. From those first few pieces of rhizomes we now have six sturdy, beautiful clumps.

Both varieties feature smallish blossoms, very different from some of the highly-bred varieties you see in many catalogs. But they possess a simplicity and a grace that can't be duplicated. Plus, every summer they are a reminder of where we came from.

Purple 'Joan Elliot' campanula glomerata is a friendly companion
for the Nebraska immigrant.

Favorite plant of the day: Clematis

Claire de lune is the only clematis I'm growing. That's crazy; I need more.

So much to catch the eye right now: bearded iris, Siberian iris, sweet woodruff, ajuga, forget-me-nots, veronica, viburnum, roses. But this morning it was the clematis Claire de lune Evirin. The surprise factor made it the clear winner. Enjoying the morning ritual of a stroll through the garden, I turned a corner and there it was with three open blooms. It's taken several years for this clematis to reach this point. I was tempted several times to pull the darn thing out; it seemed a waste of the copper trellis, a handcrafted birthday gift from my husband. At one point it appeared to have died. But it stayed and persevered and now I know that pale lavender is the color of patience rewarded.

The color works well with the blue-purple Ajuga reptans (bugleweed)
in the background. The clematis is growing in a semi-shady spot
on the north side of the house.

A salad with bite

For years, I'd seen French sorrel (Rumex) in the herb books but never bothered to try growing it until a few years ago. It's not the most attractive plant, but the tiny seedling I plopped in place then came up early and strong this year. It had to be used. While there are recipes for sauces and soups (none of which I've attempted so far), I've taken a liking to using the leaves in salads. The tangy, citrus flavor adds some nice bite to the more mellow lettuce. Just pick a few leaves, wash, tear into bite-size pieces and toss with the other greens in your salad. My sorrel is thriving in a sunny spot in the herb garden; I even spotted some seedling progeny when I was weeding there the other day. But happy though it may be in its current location, I think a move to another, less visible spot may be in order.

Meanwhile, its cousin bloody dock (Rumex sanguineus) is making a return appearance in the front bed but didn't survive the winter in the courtyard berm. Go figure. I love the foliage on this plant, but it's not recommended for eating. I love the name even more: "bloody dock!" It's a nice substitute for cursing.

Tulips on my mind

The calendar may say June, but it feels more like fall today. Daytime temperatures in the 40s aren't unheard of this time of year, but that doesn't make them any more palatable. So, if the weather conjures up visions of autumn maybe it's an appropriate time to think about fall planting. I'm thinking about tulips. Of course, it helps that the Beauty from Bulbs catalog from John Sheepers arrived last week and with it Brian's announcement that we need to plant more species tulips. Indeed we do. We've dabbled with species tulips and so far have been very happy with the results. They're undemanding and beautiful. Here's a sampling of the show we enjoyed this spring, in order of appearance:

1. Tulipa turkestanica: This cool little baby has multiple flowers on each stem. It strikes me as an incredibly happy flower, probably because it blooms early when I really need a dose of optimism. It flutters and dances beautifully in a light breeze.

2. Tulipa humilis violacea: Lovely pools of magenta-purple. Rabbits got some of them this year, but not too many. That's tall garden phlox off to the right. It will help camouflage the tulip's dying foliage. Like other bulbs, you want to let the foliage of species tulips ripen before cutting them back.


3. Professor de Monsseri: This Greigii tulip has mottled foliage and red and yellow blooms. That's Sedum cauticola coming up between the bulbs. Another way to help camouflage dying/unattractive bulb foliage.


4. Tulipa dasystemon: The yellow center with white tips reminds me of fresh fried eggs. Delicious!

5. Tulipa hageri 'Splendens' (above and below): Love the skinny leaves and rusty red, dainty blooms. That's pussytoes (Antennaria) surrounding the tulips. I don't really care for the flowers of pussytoes so I'll whack them off and enjoy the silvery mat-forming foliage.