Hardy Begonia

begonia grandis

A friend gave this to me last fall, not knowing if it was hardy or not.  I planted it in the shady, moist bed on the north side of our garage.  In the spring it failed to reappear and I thought "oh well" and moved on.  Only in the early summer did I notice its distinctive leaves rising up from the ferns and Solomon's Seal.

I've been warned that this spreads very, very easily by little bulbils at the leaf axis.  I did notice that a small new plant sprouted where I dumped the extra potting soil from the pot that I had used to transport the plant.

I'll be watching this one.

New Troughs

 I've been casting a lot of troughs lately, now that all of our vacationing is over.  I was hoping that it would be nice and cool but we've been having the hottest spell of the summer.

Above is a rectangular trough that's about 18 hours old, photographed as I removed the sides of the mold.  I've already removed the inner core and the foam blocks that make up the spaces around the feet.

I'm never sure if people understand how much of my handwork is visible in the trough and how much is inherent in the process.  For the record, the left side of the trough above reflects how it looks as it comes out of the mold.  The right side is after I've given it a good scrubbing with the wire brush.

I made these three in one long, sweaty session in the garage.  They are about a day and a half old in the picture.  Right after the photo, I sealed them in plastic and slid them under the deck, where they can cure for a month.

It's the Little Things...

daphne cneorum 'Blackthorn Triumph'

I've always loved daphnes, even with their femme fatale reputation.  I ordered this teensy one from Arrowhead Alpines in the spring.  I knew that it would be small when I ordered it but was sort of shocked to see how tiny the cutting actually was when it arrived.  I planted it at the edge of a big trough and it's settled in nicely, even blooming this week.  What a treat.

Back from the Beach

We arrived home yesterday after a week at the Jersey shore.  My daughter got right to work sorting shells.  

New Plants. Old Trough.

I cast this trough about 6 years ago.  In its former life it had dianthus and other things that I've forgotten.  Gradually it got overgrown by a chamaecyparis pisifera 'Boulevard', so this spring I relocated the trough and replanted it.  I've read that hypertufa can have as short a life span as a decade, but this trough seemed totally healthy and solid.

That's ilex crenata 'Dwarf Pagoda' (back R), vitaliana primuliflora (front R), gypsophilia cerastioides 'Pixie Splash' (front L), arabis blepharophylla from Home Depot (back L) and armeria juniperifolia 'Alba' (center).

Weedy, yes, but...

I confess, I love thalictrum rochebruneanum, even though it self-seeds everywhere and tends to fry out in the hottest heat.  When it works, like this summer, we get clumps of airy pink flowers at my eye level and above.

And I'm 6'2". 

Rattlesnake Master

Eryngium yuccifolium seed heads

I'd always admired eryngium yuccifolium, more commonly known as Rattlesnake Master, whenever I'd read about it in the prairie plant section of all those recent Piet Oudolf books.  I'd think "Hey, I never noticed that growing up in Iowa" about the same time that I'd think "I want that! How come I never see it in nurseries?".  It was on my plant lust list for many years.

Three years ago I was visiting dear friends on the way south side of Chicago...think suburban Chicago, closer to the cornfields than the Loop...when I saw Rattlesnake Master on a hike with my buddy.  It was going to seed...perfect.  I collected some seed, packed it in my carry-on and promptly planted it in a small pot when I got home.  

Then I waited and waited.  Sure, the seed sprouted the next year, but the plants were tiny so I left them in the tiny nursery pot in which they were sown.  The second year they were still small, but I'd read enough to know that the plant develops a deep tap root and hates being transplanted.  It was now or never.  I dutifully planted the seedlings out into the garden, marking each one so that I wouldn't absent-mindedly weed them out.

Weird leaves, right? (two Rattlesnake Masters in front, but that's a hesperaloe in back)

This year they finally bloomed.  It reminded me that good things come to those (gardeners) who wait.  I hope that the plants clump up and come back sturdier and showier each year...without self-seeding everywhere and becoming a scourge.  It's a fine line, I know.

And, oh yeah, it doesn't treat Rattlesnake bites.  Sorry.