HAPPY HOUSEPLANT DAY!

At the beginning of a new year, it's a good idea to scan over the list of major holidays and circle the important days requiring special attention. For example the most obvious celebrations are Christmas, New Year, Easter, Thanksgiving Day, not to mention holidays marking special achievements in the vein of Johnny Appleseed or Saint Valentine for example.

While these holidays should and do get the recognition that they deserve, gardening and houseplant aficionados merit a special day put aside to honor "our kind." It is with this in mind that I propose the establishment of a new celebratory event called, "Houseplant Day."

The impetus for the creation of this holiday is to set aside a specific day once per year in which to acknowledge the contribution of houseplants to our lives. What would our lives be like without these living organisms that give us so much pleasure and ask nothing in return but habitual doses of water, fertilizer, leaf cleaning, re-potting, insect control from their caregivers?

As the caregiver to a droopy leaved Christmas Cactus, which is the grand-old-dame of the collection, a beloved prayer plant that folds its leaves together in prayer-like stance at the end of the day and a new and sassy addition in the presence of a selaginella kraussiana, keeping these three remaining friends of the chlorophyll-kind alive is a challenge. Over the past three years a finicky ficus bid me a fair adieu as did a sassy schefflera, thanks to of a horde of bugs that decided to call their soil home. Let's just say that the plants and their tormenters have returned to the earth.

Meanwhile, downstairs in the rec. room some senior plants are living out the remainder of their lives stationed in front of a small window, their only source of light. Admittedly, it's not a gracious end for these now tall and gangly plants, which really deserve the prime spots upstairs. The reality is that I've run out of windows and although any respectable houseplant lover would always find space, he-who-is-not-a-plant-lover has issued an ultimatum: it's an either “me or…” situation, the answer to which I'm still pondering.

The actual celebration of Houseplant Day would include an extra dose of food although upon reflection that may not be such a good idea, given their delicate constitution. Perhaps promote the idea of putting a day aside where sports enthusiasts would bring houseplants to a major sports event culminating in a giant fertilization ceremony at half time. Through marketing and publicity politicians could be convinced to promote an “adopt-a-houseplant” scheme since they are known never to pass up an opportunity to be seen by the public in a positive light. With enough publicity we might even convince political leaders to adopt a houseplant. They could hold up a houseplant in the air and address the public while sprinkling manure, which many voters would say is quite appropriate…

So, d'ya think it'll fly? Kind of a love it or leaf it situation.

(Whad'ya think? Should there be a Houseplant Day? Comments welcome!)

IT'S CLOSING TIME: THE UN-COMPLETE GARDENERS DIARY

You know the summer is really over when you hear the squawks of flying Canada geese making their annual trek south (smart geese!). There is something majestic about the way they fly en masse in "V" formation, changing positions to conserve their strength. Sad and yet comforting at the same time. (http://www.hww.ca/hww2.asp?id=35&cid=7)

Even though the temperature will reach the mid '50's today, the time has come as it always does, to pull the annuals and shut down the garden for the season. How I dread this every year but particularly this season since the annuals are still quite perky and colorful. The perennials in the back garden including the Brown-eyed Susans are somewhat dull and moving into that shrivelled-up phase and the gigantic hosta leaves have turned soggy and yellow-ish in color as a result of evening frost, so it's time. Although the rock garden perennials have long since lost their flowers, the leaves are still fresh and crisp. I always wait until the last moment to cut these back and cover them with earth. Makes me feel like an undertaker! A few hollyhock plants (http://www.silkartist.co.uk/hollyhocks.jpg) on the sunny side of the house are still growing and producing flowers. This year I swear, some of the plants reached the 7 foot level. The problem with hollyhocks is that it is impossible to stake them especially since they're growing up against the wall of the house. I found some old hockey sticks under the sun deck and used them for support. They also made some visual statement for onlookers and locals walking by.

"Oh look! Hockey sticks growing in the earth! How original! Real Canadian spirit those Tylbor's have!"

I mean, I just can't...lop off their heads if they're making an effort to produce more flowers! Be that as it may - a gardener has'ta do what a gardener has'ta do... To quote the Queen in Alice in Wonderland: "off with their heads!"

"Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature— the assurancethat dawn comes after night, and spring after winter."

- Rachel Carson

GARDENER'S LAMENT - I'M FEELING NEGLECTED!

Given the copious amount of rain we've had, add to that the hot summer temperatures and my garden is doing splendidly. Now I'm feeling neglected.

Every year at this time there are the usual gardening touch-ups to be made like removing the weeds, dead-heading the flowers, lots of watering...the usual stuff. However, I've barely touched the garden because - well - the garden is thriving on my neglect! All that thinning out done last fall has paid off and the perennials are growing exactly where they are supposed to grow.

Darn!

The rock garden has never looked so good and all the perennials planted over the years is paying off. In fact there is hardly any more room for new additions. Maybe one or two. Three at the most.

Meanwhile, in the flower bed the older perennials are a blooming success and then some, with the newer additions kicking in as soon as the older blooms die. The rose bush that was about to be dug up has obviously received my mental image of the composter loud and clear and this season produced five fist-sized blooms. There aren't even any signs of fungus or black spot on the leaves, which eliminates the necessity to spray.

How demoralizing.

Even the 7 foot-plus hollyhocks whose stems usually bend in half being top-heavy, are remaining upright. This means I don't even have to support them as in past years.

The best I can hope for, generally, is that the annuals in the flower boxes will soon become leggy and require some extensive cutting and trimming. So now it's just a question of time. They'll all need me, eventually. They always do.

DEAR MOTHER NATURE...I'M REALLY UPSET WITH YOU!

Dear Mother Nature,

I'm writing to you today in near desperation. I know that this may seem like an unorthodox method in which to communicate with such an omnificent power, but desperate times calls for desperate measures.

Y'see Mom...Mother N - Mother Nature (don't wanna be disrespectful at this point since I'm asking for a favor) it has been raining daily here in Montreal for almost two weeks now. The fact that it's morally depressing is a given but it's about the tomato plant I bought two weeks ago. It's only one small plant growing in a large patio pot on the back sun deck (I use that term loosely given the amount of sun that we've received of late) but to me it represents the hope and dream of sinking my teeth into a blemishless, pink beefsteak tomato. Add a sprinkle of salt and it's heaven here on earth.

Okay. Forget the blemishless and I'll settle for a fully-ripe tomato. Okay. A tomato, period.

Thing is 'MN' - the blurb on the plastic information blurb supplied with the plant indicates that it takes 78 days from the day of planting for the tomatoes to be ripe and ready for eating. Given the fact that there has been a 2-week delay already due to the lack of sun - I'm in biggg trouble. If I had read the small print accompanying that beautiful colored photo of huge pink tomatoes on the vine, I would have realized that given our "normal" growing period of 3-4 months in a good year, this was not a wisest choice of species. Factor in the variety of insects that enjoy eating tomatoes 'al fresco' and it's an unachievable dream at best.

So now you understand the rationale behind my communicating with you: desperation. Whad'ya think, Mom? Can you help? It won't be a big effort on your part. I'll even settle for three days of pure, unadulturated sunshine. I mean - I don't wanna be greedy or anything.

With visions of tomatoes dancing in my head,

Eleanor

SO HOW DOES YOUR GARDEN GROW? NOW THAT YOU ASK...

Every Spring as has been my habit since moving in our house, I conduct what I call "the walk-a-bout" to see if there have been any deaths of the chlorophyll kind. It's not a job that I relish since a death in the garden is like a personal loss having planted, coddled and fed the various species in the hope that they will flourish.

The bed of iris's, a specie that is almost impossible to kill and the main reason for its inclusion among my floral choices, haven't let me down. I anticipate yet another stunning bouquet of wine-colored blossoms, which I will share with my neighbors. The only draw-back if one can call it that is the ants who hide deep in the flower's interior and suddenly scatter like...ants when the stalks are placed in a vase of water. Nothing quite as attractive as ants crawling accross a beautifully set table when guests sit down to eat. On one occasion a few were spotted doing the dead man's float on a glass of white wine. Not a nice scene.

The honeysuckle shrubs cut down to 12" last month are at last growing some leaves and there are some pink flowers on a few. The neighbor who we call Mrs. Poopsy, owner of Poopsy the dog, continues to praise our decision for a radical cut in the hope that we'll keep them short. As she tells us at every opportunity, Poopsy has problems smelling (and presumably pooping) on rambling 6 feet high shrubs with long branches that can scratch Poopsy's bum.

This year there are signs that the one remaining rose bush is on its way to nature's equalizer known as the composter. The reality is that it should have been removed years ago but remains since there is always one stalk that is green at the base, although this year there is more brown than green. Green is the symbol of hope for we gardeners.

There was particular bad and sad loss in the rock garden. Our pride and joy, the yew shrubs are half dead. Of course a more positive way to look at it would be that they are half alive but I digress. The entire lower part of the shrubs is ghastly shade of grey and something will have to be done. More than likely the dead parts will be cut away with the end result looking like small trees growing in a rock garden. Let it not be said (or written) that we're not different.

On the shady side of the house Argy our gardener, over-raked again. This is an on-going spat with Argy assuming that dormant perennials are weeds or dead plants. This year's victim is the dianthus that have thrived in the bed for ten years. In spite of his denials of "You tell me don't rake - I no rake!" - he's a known plant murderer and in denial.

Today since the rain finally stopped and the sun is out, I'm going to finish the walk-a-bout. We'll see how the back garden bed made out. It's better I get there before Argy spots bare stems.

www.icangarden.com

ZONING IN FOR GARDENING SUCCESS

After years of speculating as to the reasons why my garden doesn't thrive in the same way as do, it’s possible that the answer may lie under my feet, so to speak. Note the usage of the word "may", which is frequently followed by the words could have, should have, would have and that old favorite, might have been, since gardening is frequently a speculative undertaking at best. In fact the explanation is so obvious that it’s surprising it’s taken so long to arrive at this simple conclusion: I’m in the wrong zone!

Go know!

As a seasoned gardener I've rarely felt the need or desire to consult with the plant hardiness zone guide. That’s not exactly the truth. Thing is - and let’s keeps this from one gardener to another - I’m directionally-challenged! For me “south” conjures up visions of mint juleps and plantations, “north” is snow and mukluks, “out west” is tumbleweed and oil wells and “back east” is home base.

At this point you’re probably shaking your head in disbelief and astonishment, wondering how I can call myself a gardener and not know in which area my plant zone is located. Simple: I just never bothered to check for one reason or another. My philosophy is and has always been a plant is a plant to be popped into dirt along with a sprinkling of fertilizer and a dose of water. Leave it alone and chances are it'll grow or produce something interesting and green-colored. It now appears that I've been living under a misconception.

This fact was brought to my attention recently during a discussion with a successful plant person, about a new plant specie entering the market place, this summer. Concerned as to whether it would "take" or survive in my garden soil, the question arose as to the hardiness zone in which our house is located. No one had ever asked this question before and my credibility faded as fast as a hosta growing in sunny location.

Attempting to pass myself off as a credible source and being somewhat knowledgeable when it came to growing things, I spun a zoning tale.

"Perhaps zone five…” I lied, “but they’re in the process of making our area zone four or stretching it to zone six.”

The wonderful thing about the Internet is that it supplies information on just about everything a person needs to know about gardening at one's fingertips. Finding the plant hardiness zone map was simple enough but deciphering it was a whole other issue. What struck me was that visually, the map has a lot of eye appeal with pretty colors ranging from your earth tones of browns, beige and yellows, purple and soft lavender, lime to leaf green and for one reason or the other, an unimaginative dull black. There was also a zoom-in and zoom-out device presumably for verifying the exact location of the area in which a garden is located. According to the map we're situated in a light-ish green to mint-green area known as 5b…or maybe it could be 5a…it's a close call… At least we're in a region that's located in a decent color shade and one that's fashionably acceptable. Things like that are important to gardeners – alright to me.

The planting season is here and armed with the knowledge that I'm living in zone 5a or 5b bordering on 6, I'm convinced there’s a chance of a successful growing season ahead. At least that's what I'm telling people. In the end it's all a number’s game, anyway.

CUTTING BACK...OR...HOW LOW CAN YOU GO?

When it comes to gardening everyone has an opinion. More to the point, they offer it whether it's asked for or not.

A couple of weeks ago we cut back our thirty-eight year old honeysuckle shrubs to where they are now approximately 12” high. They weren't supposed to be that short but in gardening as in life, the path is filled with good intentions.

The shrubs were planted during the first year we moved in our house as a natural means of closing in our back garden instead of a fence.

"A fence is so confining," was the story we used at the time but if truth be told, planting shrubs was a cheaper alternative. Honeysuckle was selected due to its hardiness and adaptability to all situations. The specie also has a lot going for it producing pretty pink flowers in the Spring that turn into ripe red berries in the autumn, a big hit with the birds. They also provide shelter for the birds from the cold and snow of winter.

Although the tops of the shrubs are trimmed on a regular basis, the branches never reached their full potential. A severe trimming was necessary - at least we thought it was - in the hope that they would grow back thick and lush. At least thick, anyway. Given the scope of the job, Argy, our occasional gardener, would be asked to do the job.

Thing is, Argy doesn’t like cutting shrubs that he deems to be too high, which is anything at the four-and-a-half feet and over level necessitating a ladder. Messages left on his voice mail are inevitably ignored and it’s a wonder he has a thriving business. The best means in which to communicate with him is to catch him actually working on the job. You would have thought that he was being asked to cut down a forest.

"Your shrubs are too high. Too much work. I'm too busy. Maybe," he commented while zipping across the lawn on a tractor/lawnmower.

In retrospect he should have been instructed exactly how short to go given his aversion to cutting shrubs, period. One minute they were...there, and the next all that remained were 12” high almost-bare, more-or-less leaf-less twigs jutting out of woody bottoms.
When questioned as to the extreme cut back, Argy was quick to point out that he was never given any specific guidelines how much to cut off. He insisted while bundling up the bushes that they would grow back in no time and that they would look better than ever.

Did I mention that Argy doesn't believe in sweeping up? Too bad since it would have eliminated a lot of the ensuing aggravation.

So we’re raking and sweeping the sidewalk and along comes neighbor, Mrs. Busybody, accompanied by a small dog on a leash. She stops and trades small talk while the dog sniffs what’s left of the shrubs.

“So you finally cut the shrubs,” she told my husband pulling on the leash as the dog watered a shrub. “It’s about time.”

This is a neighbor who rarely comments about them – or anything else. A rant followed, focusing on how high and wild they were allowed to grow and getting more vocal with each statement.

“Sometimes ‘Poopsy’ here had to walk on the road because your shrubs blocked the sidewalk,” she stated matter-of-factly. “You should have more consideration for our four-footed friends.”

No sooner had she finished her lecture, Mr. Neighbor Three Doors Down loped over to join in the fray.

“You cut your shrubs too short and it’s too late in the season,” he offered bending down to touch a leafless branch. “They’re probably going to die!”

Mrs. Busybody and Mr. Two Doors Down then had a lively discussion regarding the merits of allowing shrubs to grow tall versus keeping them low. Soon more neighbors joined them with the honeysuckles being the center of the conversation.

In the middle of it all Argy drove by. He slowed down and smiled approvingly. Smart guy our Argy. He knew that he wouldn't have to do a major shrub cutting for a long time.

Did I mention he's not answering his voice mail again? Not surprising after the message we left him.