Spring in the garden: observations and a retrospective

Spring of 2022 is now in the history books, for today is the first day of summer. I’ve decided to welcome the arrival of summer by taking a look back at the show the garden put on over the spring months.

What a show it was!

But before we get to the pictures of the show, please bear with me as I post a few rambling observations of said garden.

Death in the garden

Plants, like all living organisms, sometimes die. Some die from old age, some die from disease, and some die for no apparent reason at all. C’est la vie.

Winter can sometimes be especially brutal on the garden.

Here along Colorado’s Front Range, we had slightly weirder than usual weather during autumn & winter. Autumn was very warm and dry, a pattern that continued well into December. I was seriously worried that we wouldn’t get any snow at all. Then January arrived, and we got hit by snow every 8 days or less for two months straight!

Taking that into consideration, I am fairly pleased at how few plants of my plants perished over the colder months. By my tally I only lost two ornamental grasses, one butterfly weed (not really a weed), several blanket flowers, and one ‘Ironweed’. The last one doesn’t surprise me much. I planted it in mid-autumn, and I don’t think it had a chance to get established in time for the cold weather.

At one with nature.

A pair of robins had a nest somewhere in or near the VintageGarden. I never actually saw the nest or the chicks, but I know there was one nearby because the parents were extremely aggressive, almost suicidal, at chasing away possible threats.

Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

I watched them swoop and dive at a hawk and until it finally flew away. A cat in my neighborhood likes to perch on my fence so it can survey its kingdom. These robins relentlessly divebombed it until it slunk away in shame.

Plus, they were pure hell on the squirrels, which amused MrsVintage and I to no end.

Yet they never attacked me once. Were they able somehow to sense my benevolence? I would be out in the yard watering or pulling weeds, and they completely ignored me. I would lounge in my hammock or in a chair on the patio, and the robins would get surprisingly close to me. Not pigeons eating popcorn at my feet close, but they would sometimes get to within 10 feet of me.

Not an earth-shattering observation. I just thought it was interesting.

On with the show

Today may be the first official day of summer, but here at the Vintage domicile, the temperatures have been in mid-summer mode for the past three weeks. You might be thinking that the early onset of hot temperatures must’ve diminished the garden display, but you would be wrong. The spring garden was a smash hit!

‘Princess Irene’ tulips and the sky-blue flowers of false forget-me-not (Brunnera) provide a study in contrasts of color and form.
Blue columbines and irises in stately harmony
Chocolate flower in bloom, so named because the flowers give off a chocolate aroma. Either I need more of these plants clustered together, or else the fragrance is muted, because I certainly didn’t notice a chocolate aroma. The daisy-like flowers are a cheerful sight though.
More blue harmony, except in a deeper hue. ‘Grand Mesa’ penstemon and an un-named iris hold sway in the birdbath garden.
Different angle of the scene above, but I actually took this picture to show the orange flower in the foreground. That’s a California poppy. I sowed California poppy seeds last spring, and I was quite disappointed when not a single one germinated. Imagine my surprise when I saw this one in bloom this spring. Several more have germinated, including in areas where I know I didn’t put them. Hmm.
The old veggie garden is filling in quite nicely, don’t you think? ‘Coronation Gold’ yarrows, Jupiter’s beards, ‘May Night’ salvias and catmints all mingling together happily.
A late spring snowstorm flattened MrsVintage’s peony, even though I have it in a hoop. The flowers are all setting bloom on the ground. The plant itself is ok, just a weird display this year.
I’m attempting to grow tomatoes in buckets again this year. So far, so good.

Plant sick bay

I’ve had to rescue a few plants, such as this tiny variegated feather reed grass, that have not been doing well where I initially planted them. I’ve been putting them in places where I can keep an eye on them and nurse them back to health. Hopefully, they will all recover and next year I will be able to put them in locations more conducive for them.

Speaking of rescuing, two of my shrubs were nearly destroyed by rabbits last year. I put hardware cloth around both shrubs in early spring this year, and so far it looks like they may stage a comeback.

‘Tor’ spirea is bouncing back nicely
This ‘Low-mound’ black chokeberry is also recovering, but at a slower rate.

The two tubes of hardware cloth are a little distracting, but what can you do? Rodents are going to…rodent, I guess. I will probably keep the hardware cloth around them all the way until next spring. Hopefully by then the shrubs will have grown large enough so that the damn rabbits won’t bother them anymore.

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Garden chores, howling winds and arctic freezes

Spring is returning to my area in fits and starts. Which is of course not unusual. The transition between the seasons is always unpredictable. The transition from winter to spring seems to always have the biggest swings. Cold one day, warm the next, then a deep freeze.

The winds here have been unrelenting. Weeks of gales that have made everybody cranky. I exaggerate a little, but this has been one of the windiest springs I can recall. Steady winds from 15 to 35 miles an hour, with gusts up to 60 mph, for days on end.

I am not very inclined to work in such weather.

Springtime chores

On the days when the winds aren’t howling, and the temperatures have been pleasant, I have been able to get some of my springtime chores accomplished. I’ve cleaned up all the garden beds, gotten the lawn aerated, and put fertilizer down on the grass.

I’ve also pruned back several shrubs, including my ‘Blue Mist Spirea’s’. I really like Blue Mist Spirea. Their deep blue flowers provide a splash cool color in the late summer garden. Some years, if the weather cooperates, their leaves can even put on a decent show in autumn. Added bonus, they are drought tolerant.

But they do require an annual haircut in the spring.

Below is the “before” picture of one of my Spiraeas. Quite a mess, am I right?

Blue Mist Spiraeas are one of those shrubs that typically die back partway over the winter. In really hard winters, they can die back all the way to the ground. So, it is a good idea to prune them back in early spring, at least down to where there are buds showing. Not just for aesthetics, but because this shrub sets its blooms on new wood.

In the picture below, the red arrows are pointing at a couple of emerging buds to give you an idea of what they look like.

I took my secateurs (we Americans call them garden pruners, but the British call them ‘secateurs’ and I really like that word. So fancy!) and went to town. Below is the after picture. My Blue Mist Spirea is now ready for the growing seasons ahead.

Ta-Dah! Much better, no?

Aerifying the borders

Another project I’ve undertaken this spring is aerifying the borders. Aerifying is a fancy way of saying “sticking a turning fork in the ground and wiggling it back and forth”. I’m doing this to uncompact the soil.

Is this necessary? Absolutely not. But the soil in the Vintage yard is fairly heavy clay. In fact, the area I live in has earned the sobriquet “Bentonite Manors”. Bentonite is a type of clay. Clay has its positives; for one, it holds moisture really well. A useful characteristic when one is trying to grow drought tolerant plants.

Stick a fork in the ground, and rock it back and forth to help loosen up the soil.

On the other hand, one of clay’s biggest downsides is that it can get easily compacted. Which prevents air and moisture from penetrate down to where the roots can access it. Not good.

Snow is very heavy, and parts of the garden were under a layer of snow for several months. Perfect condition to create compaction issues. While earthworms and other soil fauna will eventually loosen up the soil, I figure aerifying can’t hurt and may even help speed the natural process along.

You want to do this in spring, however. Temperatures are cooler then, and the rain is usually more plentiful. If you aerify the soil in summer, you risk having the heat and low humidity dry out the soil at the root level, which is a surefire way of killing your plants.

This is also why you only aerate the lawn in early spring or mid-to-late autumn.

A stranger appears

While doing some of my chores, I spotted a lone stranger in the garden.

A single, yellow crocus smack dab in the middle of the long border. I know I didn’t plant it. Where did it come from? How did it get there? A mystery that likely will never be solved.

I do have some purple crocuses nearby, but these bulbs are at least 10 feet away from the new guy. Plus, as I just mentioned, they’re purple and definitely not yellow.

Well, as Dr. Ian Malcom says, life finds a way.

Purple crocuses

Artic blast cancels the show

Finally, I’m a bit bummed out. I’ve been planting ‘Lemon Queen’ daffodils in the former veggie garden for the past couple of years. Last year’s display was quite good.

This year, the show has already been cancelled.

The buds of the flowers were just getting ready to bloom when we got hit by an unseasonably cold arctic blast. Temps at the Vintage home hit 15 degrees. Those cold temps froze the moisture in the buds, creating ice crystals. Those crystals literally tore up the plant tissue.

Which means no flower display from ‘Lemon Queen” daffodils this year.

Fortunately, the plants themselves will be fine. I’ll plant a few more in the autumn and hopefully, if next year’s the weather cooperates, the ‘Lemon Queen’ daffodils will put on a fine show.

Nature has a way of reminding the gardener just how much he or she is NOT in control.

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Saying goodbye to a very dear friend

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,

Then you will find—it’s your own affair—
But… you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.

The power of a dog – Rudyard Kipling

I have had several dogs in my life, and I have loved them all. But there was a dog who came quite unexpectedly into my life, and yet stole my heart in a way no other dog ever has.

His name was Chance.

Rescued by my eldest daughter, Chance came to us as an adult, with a fully formed personality that made him the most unique dog I have ever had the honor to know.

He was tiny yet fierce. A real fighter. He had a huge Napolean complex and would not hesitate to take on dogs several times his size (which is why we couldn’t take him to dog parks).

He was fiercely protective of those he loved. Strangers had to be slowly introduced to him, and he never quite let go of his suspicions. He was mortally offended by the fact that other dogs and people existed in the world. Our poor neighbors: he never took a liking to them, no matter how long they lived next to us, and he never hesitated to let them know he was always keeping an eye on them.

For all his fierceness, he was also a lover. He was the most empathic and affectionate dog I’ve ever known. He had an almost ESP ability to sense when his loved ones were distressed. In those times, he would quietly lay next to his human packmate to console them.

Other times, he just wanted to love and be loved, and he was very insistent about it. If I happened to be lying down, he would often climb up on my chest and allow me the honor of scratching his butt or belly. Other times he would join me in the bathroom, as I performed my morning ablutions, and offered his ass for me to scratch. While I was eating dinner, he would stand next to me and offer me the opportunity to scratch his ass.

He seriously overestimated how much I wanted to scratch his ass.

Chance was also a very good big brother to his “sister”, Bailey.

Chance and Bailey “rassling”

Guardian of the Garden

Chance appointed himself the Guardian of the Garden. His job was to ensure that squirrels, bunnies and cats were kept out our territory. And he was very good at his job. Squirrels that needed to get from one yard to another had to haul ass along the tops of the fence, as the noisy beast with the razor teeth pursued them.

On warm summer or autumn evenings, as MrsVintage and I sat out on the patio, Chance would do his nightly patrol of the perimeter. He would carefully check the fence line along the whole backyard for any potential intruders, and you could track his progress by the swaying of the flowers and grasses. He would finally emerge from the far end of the border, covered in twigs and seeds, and we could rest easy knowing that the backyard was secure.

Silence

The house seems so quiet now. I feel his absence acutely, especially on the weekends. It’s like there is a hole that follows me everywhere I go. (Bailey is a sweetheart, but she is a momma’s dog. She doesn’t have much use for me, except to feed her and give her an occasional belly rub).

Before, in the mornings, I used to put food in his bowl and he would happily chomp away on his breakfast as I devoured mine. Now I eat my cereal in silence.

When I go into the library to read, I look for him but his little bed in front of the fireplace lays empty. I listen expectantly for the familiar sound of him running down the stairs to join me, but he never does.

When I work in the garden, he is no longer there to keep me company. I pause in my labors and look up, expecting to see him sunning in the grass or eyeballing nervous squirrels, but I work alone now.

A boy and his dog.

Farewell

Farewell Chance, my very dear friend. You were loved, and you are already missed.

You were brave, goofy, annoying, affectionate, intelligent, playful, dignified, a clown.

Above all, a loving and loyal companion.

You truly were a prince among dogs.

And I will never forget you.

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