Rayless Sunflower

It has been a glorious weekend here in east Texas. For the first time in months our temperature dipped below 70F yesterday, and then Sunday morning, the thermometer registered 59F. I adore days like these where a chill hangs in the air.

The return of fall and the arrival of cooler temperatures and rain revitalizes the garden. After months of watching plants struggle, it is so nice to see them perking up and many fall performers beginning their show. One species that is becoming a favorite of mine for autumn is rayless sunflower.

I first saw it on Instagram a few years ago when Andrea England posted a picture of it in a shortgrass prairie in her suburban meadow. At first, I thought I was seeing just spent flowers and seedheads. However, after some sleuthing I realized that this photo was the rayless sunflower in bloom with its black licorice colored disks held on acid green stems. With a brief review of flower morphology, you can see where rayless sunflower gets its name. Many Asteraceae family members have a head inflorescence with two types of flowers, rays that comprised the outer row of colorful “petals” and the inner disks that form the bulk of the flower. The reason the flowers have their orb-like appearance is because they are largely absent of any rays.

The flowers of Helianthus radula emerge in autumn and are a wonderful companion to the ghostly colored Liatris elegans.

The flowers of Helianthus radula emerge in autumn and are a wonderful companion to the ghostly colored Liatris elegans.

What a novelty in the plant world! I was intrigued. I contacted her offering to trade some seed, and soon I had an envelope ready to sow. Seeds germinated quickly, and I transplanted them into a sandy spot since they are native to the gulf coast. They have the most interesting foliage. For much of the growing season their orbicular leaves hugged the ground until the crowns began to elongate later in the summer. And, then out of nowhere these antennae-looking flowers pierced through the fray of grasses and forbs in my garden and attracted pollinators. I was delighted. And, the seedheads stood through wind and rain with very few bending over. Even into the winter, the seedheads were persistent until the spring mowing, although I will add a few were decimated by the birds as these frugivores foraged.

This year is the second that it has been growing in my garden, and there are even more flowers. I haven’t discerned yet if this plant is a reseeding annual or perennial, but either way it is delightful. I should know in the next few years. They are planted in a bed near our driveway, and I’ve noticed the shadows the circular flowers cast on the blacktop when the sun is at an angle in the sky. I really like to pair it with white flowers or those that have hints of white, and the strong texture pops with the more fine textured grasses.

One last note. Jenks Farmer argued that this plant needs a better name. I agree since rayless seems to hint that there is something lacking to this plant. Perhaps button sunflower or lollypop sunflower, something, really anything to better convey how wonderful this plant is.

A closeup of Helianthus radula flowers

A closeup of Helianthus radula flowers

Rain Lilies and Hawkmoths

I witnessed the most amazing spectacle in the garden one evening.  I had just finished transplanting a few perennials when I noticed some flying crepuscular creature darting around in my garden patch.  Against the waning twilight of late summer, I could see that it first appeared to be the size of a small bird, but it wasn’t flying smoothly like our avian friends typically do.  No, it had more jerky movements like a grasshopper. And, it was coming my way.

It flew to five feet behind me.  Whirling around, I saw it start to hover and steady itself above the rain lilies that had just opened from the soaking five days prior.  I stood and watched the beautiful dance between hawkmoth and salverform flower.  Flying about six inches above the plant, it prodded and probed to find the entrance, almost like when you try to plug an electrical outlet into the wall in the dark.   

And, then the second surprise of the evening came.  It descended towards the flower to barely an inch above the petals.  The nectary and ovaries were really that deep?!  Wow, I had never noticed that!  I didn’t grow up with Cooperia drummondii (aka Zephyranthes chlorosolen) in west Tennessee, and after transplanting a few last year into my garden, this time was the first I’ve watched them be pollinated.

Finally, it hit me to pull out my phone and record the spectacle.  I watched as it went from flower to flower to flower repeating the same pattern.  The search for the tube, the dive in, and the move on.   I noticed with this first round of feeding the hawkmoth took its time, perhaps spending 15 to 20 seconds or so per flower.  And, the wings and proboscis were so powerful they were moving the surrounding flowers. 

After the hawkmoth had perused the line of Cooperia, it flew off to another white flower in the garden that wasn’t a rain lily as it soon discovered.  As I gathered my tools, I noticed it then returned for a second round, but this time the visit at each flower was only a few seconds.  I suppose the first pass it had drunk the flowers dry.  It flew off into the night, and I headed inside to try to ascertain which hawkmoth friend I had just made.

To my surprise, I learned it was the adult form of the tomato hornworm, the five-spotted hawkmoth. Even though I detest their destructive habits on my tomatoes, I suppose I could start leaving one or two to enjoy the fall feeding frenzy on rain lilies.

Cooperia drummondii flowering approximately five days after a rain. If you look at the bottom of the photo and follow the scape up, you’ll see the ovary where the green fades to brown.

Cooperia drummondii flowering approximately five days after a rain. If you look at the bottom of the photo and follow the scape up, you’ll see the ovary where the green fades to brown.

A few weeks later, the seed heads rupture. I collect seed and scatter it to make more plants. If you look closely at the immature ovaries, you can see the wilting tube attached at the top through which the hawkmoth’s proboscis would have descended.

A few weeks later, the seed heads rupture. I collect seed and scatter it to make more plants. If you look closely at the immature ovaries, you can see the wilting tube attached at the top through which the hawkmoth’s proboscis would have descended.

 
Seems hawkmoths aren’t the only insect that likes to pause at rain lilies.

Seems hawkmoths aren’t the only insect that likes to pause at rain lilies.

 

Presto, It's Pesto!

Most of our summer garden is winding down due to the insufferable heat and lack of rain. But, the basil has been growing gangbusters through it. Karen and I have been making pesto this summer with an abundance of foliage from cultivars like ‘Dolce Fresca’ and ‘Aroma 2’. It is delicious for dips with pita chips or Italian bread, as a sauce in paninis, and as a melt-in-your-mouth topping on grilled steak. Of course, the question is how do you capture this essence of summer? We prefer to freeze it for use later in the year.

Basil, wet from the morning dew. Cutting it frequently for pesto results in plants that are more bushy. Even if it gets out of hand and flowers, don’t be afraid to cut it back hard.

Basil, wet from the morning dew. Cutting it frequently for pesto results in plants that are more bushy. Even if it gets out of hand and flowers, don’t be afraid to cut it back hard.

I use the New York Times recipe and have copied and pasted it below for your convenience along with some helpful notes. The big difference from their recipe is how I store it frozen.

INGREDIENTS

2 cups fresh basil leaves (no stems)

2 tablespoons pine nuts or walnuts

2 large cloves garlic

½ cup extra-virgin olive oil

½ cup freshly grated parmesan cheese

Basil cut and brought in from the garden. I try to get it before flowering, but even if the plant has bloomed, leaves can still be used. I prefer to process it soon after cutting. I’ve placed it in the fridge before, but it developed black spots on …

Basil cut and brought in from the garden. I try to get it before flowering, but even if the plant has bloomed, leaves can still be used. I prefer to process it soon after cutting. I’ve placed it in the fridge before, but it developed black spots on the leaves from the cold temperature.

I rip the leaves off the cut stems. Usually, lower leaves have some blemishes and yellowing on them, so I don’t use those. Also, in the process of riping leaves off the stems, some will be bruised and turn a little dark.

I rip the leaves off the cut stems. Usually, lower leaves have some blemishes and yellowing on them, so I don’t use those. Also, in the process of riping leaves off the stems, some will be bruised and turn a little dark.

I put the leaves through two or three washes of water in the sink, and dry them off. Next, I process them through the food processor. After running the food processor, I always find that some leaf petioles and plant roughage is left on top, and I scrape that off the blade. Next, I put in the garlic, walnuts, olive oil, and cheese. I then transfer it to a cookie sheet or 9 × 13 pan for freezing.

The final product after running everything through the food processor and spreading it out on a cookie sheet with parchment paper. This batch is from six cups of basil or triple the above recipe.

The final product after running everything through the food processor and spreading it out on a cookie sheet with parchment paper. This batch is from six cups of basil or triple the above recipe.

And, this step is where my recipe deviates a bit from the New York Times because I freeze the basil in sheets and then cut it or break it up. I find that trying to get it in ice cubes is cumbersome, and this process is fast and easy. I freeze the pesto in the freezer over night and cut it the next morning. Then, when we need it, we can pull out the perfect amounts and heat it up. Having it cut into similar-sized shapes helps us gauge how much we need for recipes.

Voilà! Pesto brownies! Now, we can easily choose how much of a portion to make.

Voilà! Pesto brownies! Now, we can easily choose how much of a portion to make.

So, with all that basil you have left in your garden, consider making some pesto with it. No matter the time of year, pesto is a flavorful addition to many dishes, and freezing extends the enjoyment of the harvest.

Guest Gardening at Chanticleer, Day Three

This post is the third and final post in a series on guest gardening at Chanticleer. Reflections on the first day can be found here and reflections on the second day here.

Day 3, Wednesday 22 June 2016

My last day guest gardening at Chanticleer I spent the morning with Joe Henderson. I have known Joe since I interned at The Scott Arboretum in Swarthmore, PA in 2008, and it was great to catch up with him and hear his rich perspective on gardening. Joe is an incredible gardener and artist; his media not only includes plants but also metal and glass as he once apprenticed as a jeweler. He helped make several ornate pieces at Chanticleer like the front fence and gate and the handrail up near the house.

Joe Henderson, a man outstanding in his planting

Joe Henderson, a man outstanding in his planting

We started at the rock ledge, a beautiful wildflower planting that connects the gravel garden with the pond below. A narrow gravel path winds through this wildscape. Joe talked about how all the space in a garden matters and how he strives for multilayer interest by planting through time.  He said he once did a presentation on a small part of the garden and how he worked that area to get as much out of it as he could.  For example, he planted snowdrops for color in late winter, ferns for interest in spring, and then colorful perennials for summer through autumn.

Looking down on the rock ledge at Chanticleer

Looking down on the rock ledge at Chanticleer

At the base of the rock ledge one looks out onto the ponds at Chanticleer. Only one is visible from this angle.

At the base of the rock ledge one looks out onto the ponds at Chanticleer. Only one is visible from this angle.

Daucus carota and other plants catch the morning light on the rock ledge.

Daucus carota and other plants catch the morning light on the rock ledge.

A gravel path winds down the rock ledge so that visitors can immerse themselves in the planting

A gravel path winds down the rock ledge so that visitors can immerse themselves in the planting

Part of making the garden perform is that his beds are packed with plants.  He enjoys the ever changing nature of the garden and noted that it doesn’t matter what happens with the plants as long as the appearance is nice.  Joe gives the garden free domain and unless what he sees is bad, he works with it.  He noted that sometimes the less you know the better because rules and norms in horticulture confine you.  Joe also shared the wisdom with me that he is never going to make everyone happy. If he likes the planting, he is happy.  

Joe Henderson’s approach to gardening employs the management style over maintenance. He is not interested in preserving a planting as it is. No, he embraces change and steers it as needed.

Joe Henderson’s approach to gardening employs the management style over maintenance. He is not interested in preserving a planting as it is. No, he embraces change and steers it as needed.

But, to create a sense of order in his plantings, Joe said he focuses on designing with color and color schemes.  He searches for colors and considers intricate details of even something like the color green.  He asked, “What color green is it?  Red, blue, yellow, etc.”  Paying attention to such details allowed the garden to feel more intimate and connected.  

Notice how this planting of pink Papaver and the golden Pleioblastus near the ponds echoes the pink Tamarix and yellow Verbascum olympicum up on the rock ledge. Attention to such details with color create harmony and repetition in a planting, even t…

Notice how this planting of pink Papaver and the golden Pleioblastus near the ponds echoes the pink Tamarix and yellow Verbascum olympicum up on the rock ledge. Attention to such details with color create harmony and repetition in a planting, even though the plants are different.

 
Note how the salmon-colored Echinacea in the background helps combine the orange Asclepias tuberosa and the pink Echinacea tennesseensis.

Note how the salmon-colored Echinacea in the background helps combine the orange Asclepias tuberosa and the pink Echinacea tennesseensis.

 

I asked Joe about his approach to new plantings.  He said he takes inspiration in the patterns of how plants appear in the wild and their natural distributions.  Then, he emulates nature while taking advantage of horticulture minutiae of space, light, color, texture, foliage, and drifts.  When adding plants on the rock ledge, he tried to tie his planting together with other parts of the garden using color since it can be seen from a distance.  He talked about tying together his rock ledge with the elevated pathway and how he planted more pink and purple in the rock ledge to connect the two spaces. He said once he has a design, he plots out plants in a grid.  On the grid, there is a dot everywhere that a plant occurs.  He puts that species out and then goes back and repeats for other species.  

Verbascum olympicum occur singly or in very small groups in nature. If we crammed hundreds in here, it wouldn’t look right. (By the way, I use this image in my classes to help teach this concept of looking to nature for inspiration.)

Verbascum olympicum occur singly or in very small groups in nature. If we crammed hundreds in here, it wouldn’t look right. (By the way, I use this image in my classes to help teach this concept of looking to nature for inspiration.)

Echinacea planted on the rock ledge. In nature, Echinacea tend to occur in larger groups of ten-to-twenty individuals. That’s why you need to plant more Echinacea in your garden!

Echinacea planted on the rock ledge. In nature, Echinacea tend to occur in larger groups of ten-to-twenty individuals. That’s why you need to plant more Echinacea in your garden!

Joe took me up to the far southwest hillside past Asian woods and we turned and looked back at the rock ledge that was about 500 feet away. I could still make out the Verbascum spears in the distance. He showed me how at Chanticleer they have been working on creating vistas. The idea is that these long views make a place feel bigger and yet more intimate because it appears all connected together. Had one not already visited the rock ledge, just walking up here and seeing something in the distance would encourage exploration. This vista was one, but others including the view from the house and elevated walkway were also important.

I put two of these photos into this post showing the vista from the picnic table. One so you can appreciate the distance…

I put two of these photos into this post showing the vista from the picnic table. One so you can appreciate the distance…

… and the other so that you can see the detail more clearly on the rock ledge and gravel garden. Having such views makes the garden feel larger and yet more intimate.

… and the other so that you can see the detail more clearly on the rock ledge and gravel garden. Having such views makes the garden feel larger and yet more intimate.

And, I couldn’t wrap up this discussion on Joe’s part of the garden without showing this lovely sitting area down near the ponds.

And, I couldn’t wrap up this discussion on Joe’s part of the garden without showing this lovely sitting area down near the ponds.

Just look at how simple these bamboo strips demarcate the path.

Just look at how simple these bamboo strips demarcate the path.

After a great morning with Joe, I met up with grounds manager Jeff Lynch around lunch. Jeff and I first met when I keynoted at the New York Botanical Garden the previous year, and during this trip our friendship really grew. I came to realize that we were both organic farming enthusiasts and shared many views on enriching soil for plants. I was so excited to learn about their O2 composting system they had built at Chanticleer.

Jeff Lynch discusses the O2 composting system at Chanticleer. In the background is Nate Pinelli who oversees the composting at Chanticleer. Nate gives a rough scale of the size of their huge compost bins.

Jeff Lynch discusses the O2 composting system at Chanticleer. In the background is Nate Pinelli who oversees the composting at Chanticleer. Nate gives a rough scale of the size of their huge compost bins.

The O2 composting system forces air into the compost pile using a greenhouse fan and drilled pipes under the pile. This oxygenation allows them to heat the pile based on how often air is introduced into the compost, and it removes the need for turning, which can be an issue in small spaces with large amounts. Jeff also said they introduced a small amount (~5% by volume) of biochar into the compost. Jeff noted that biochar that goes directly into the soil can make nutrients unavailable. With my background in soil science, I assume that putting it in the compost first fills those binding sites with nutrients.  

Nate Pinelli managed the compost, and he kept detailed records on temperatures and time. Jeff mentioned how ardent they were about making sure that only organic matter went into the bins as soil and soil mix were too stable. Once filled, they cap it with old compost and cover the bins with compost fleece that allows air in but not moisture. That way, they can control how much water enters the pile, too. Once mature, they would sift the material and use it in the garden. I was blown away seeing this simple yet creative system.

Fresh material goes into the compost piles.

Fresh material goes into the compost piles.

 
Here you see a box housing the greenhouse fan and piping that leads to the bins. Note that some of the pipes in this photograph have been pulled out because those bins are not currently active.

Here you see a box housing the greenhouse fan and piping that leads to the bins. Note that some of the pipes in this photograph have been pulled out because those bins are not currently active.

 

I saved one of my favorite plantings from my time at Chanticleer for last—the elevated walkway. When I was there in 2016 the planting and pathway was roughly 1 year old, and I so appreciated the design and thought that went into making it amazing. In mid-June it was a floral explosion.

Jeff and I walked the elevated pathway later my last day discussing how the design went through several iterations before planting and how the staff had prepared the ground after construction using augers and air spades to get the soil just right. Jonathan Wright had done the design for the planting. The top of the walkway was planted with an open prairie habitat that faded into edge habitat and finally into woodland. While some plants were the same as I had seen just hours earlier on the rock ledge, the blues and grays created more of a cool-color scheme.

I loved seeing several of my favorite plants integrated together. Color echoes abounded. The glaucous foliage of Rudbeckia maxima and Eryngium yuccifolium. The mauve-to-pink Salvia sclarea and Echinacea species. The fading Allium with Nassella tenuissima. And, then you had things that just popped out like the massive leaves on Silphium terebinthinaceum or the crimson Silene virginica glowing under the quaking aspens from the setting sun. During my three-day guest gardening stint, I kept finding myself returning to this spot in different light and at different times of the day to appreciate its beauty.  

The elevated walkway with porous pavement winds through this diverse perennial planting at Chanticleer. The rusted steel is such a good neutral, earthy color to go with this planting.

The elevated walkway with porous pavement winds through this diverse perennial planting at Chanticleer. The rusted steel is such a good neutral, earthy color to go with this planting.

Another dazzling display near one of the landings on the elevated walkway at Chanticleer where visitors can pause and rest.

Another dazzling display near one of the landings on the elevated walkway at Chanticleer where visitors can pause and rest.

 
Here’s the view looking down from the upper landing onto the hillside. Notice how your eye flows through the planting.

Here’s the view looking down from the upper landing onto the hillside. Notice how your eye flows through the planting.

 
The rosy-colored Echinacea species and Salvia sclarea create a good color combination.

The rosy-colored Echinacea species and Salvia sclarea create a good color combination.

Here we begin to approach the woodland. I love how massive those Silphium terebinthinaceum leaves are. Note the color echo between the fading Allium seed heads and the Nassella tenuissima.

Here we begin to approach the woodland. I love how massive those Silphium terebinthinaceum leaves are. Note the color echo between the fading Allium seed heads and the Nassella tenuissima.

 
I enjoyed these fading Allium schubertii infructescences along the elevated walkway.

I enjoyed these fading Allium schubertii infructescences along the elevated walkway.

 
I love how full and layered this photograph shows this elevated walkway planting to be.

I love how full and layered this photograph shows this elevated walkway planting to be.

The floor under these Populus tremuloides is lit with Silene virginica.

The floor under these Populus tremuloides is lit with Silene virginica.

So, there you have it. Three incredible days of guest gardening at Chanticleer. If I’m honest, I have been trying to write about my experience for the past four years since my visit. I would start and stop only because I felt it hard to describe three perfect days in one of the best gardens with some of the finest horticulturists I know. And, it is funny because as I have gone through photographs and notes, I see many threads of knowledge that I gleaned during my time at Chanticleer that I’m already applying. I weave experiences I had not only into my own garden but also into stories and inspiration for my students and for my greater learning audience out there.

So, in case you haven’t picked up on it yet, if you’re ever in the Philadelphia area, take a day or two (or three!) and visit Chanticleer. It will enrich your gardening soul.

 
I hope that you enjoyed my reflections from my three days guest gardening at Chanticleer.

I hope that you enjoyed my reflections from my three days guest gardening at Chanticleer.

 

Guest Gardening at Chanticleer, Day Two

This post is the second in a series on guest gardening at Chanticleer. Reflections on the first day can be found here.

Day 2, Tuesday 21 June 2016

The next morning, I woke again before sunrise to get out in the garden and retrace some of my steps from yesterday.  I focused on exploring the teacup garden and the plantings around the main house at Chanticleer.  Often, these displays are full of color, texture, and wow factor to tickle visitors senses when they first enter.

The entrance to the teacup garden at Chanticleer

The entrance to the teacup garden at Chanticleer

A close up of the Fagus sylvatica ‘Purpurea Tricolor’ that frame the entryway

A close up of the Fagus sylvatica ‘Purpurea Tricolor’ that frame the entryway

Looking down on the teacup garden

Looking down on the teacup garden

This photograph is a wonderful study in texture and colorful foliage. Very few plants are in flower, and yet the scene is so pleasing to the eye.

This photograph is a wonderful study in texture and colorful foliage. Very few plants are in flower, and yet the scene is so pleasing to the eye.

Emergents like Gaura and Verbena erupt out of the flowery lawn behind the Chanticleer house

Emergents like Gaura and Verbena erupt out of the flowery lawn behind the Chanticleer house

 
An excellent example of color echo between the Crambe, Agave, and pool house roof.

An excellent example of color echo between the Crambe, Agave, and pool house roof.

 

Once the work day started, I met up with Eric Hsu.  While Eric serves as Plant Information Coordinator at Chanticleer, he told me that he wears many hats like overseeing bulb orders.  

Curation of plant names and pertinent information like their origin is crucial for a botanic garden’s inner workings.  Hey, it’s even important for common gardeners like you and me.  Anyone who has ever recorded plant information knows how meticulous and time consuming getting it right can be.  But, it is essential for reference and education.  As I tell my students, plants can’t talk to us (at least not yet!).  So, we have to make sure that we keep good records and information about them to educate and share their stories with others.  

Eric said that plants were accessioned as they arrived at the garden and that only one person had access to editing the data.  Individual gardeners kept seed records and also documented any self sowers that occurred in the garden.

Eric saved this accession note (aka a stem or perhaps a scape) that a gardener brought to him. He said anything that contained plant information was helpful!

Eric saved this accession note (aka a stem or perhaps a scape) that a gardener brought to him. He said anything that contained plant information was helpful!

I had long wondered about the plant lists at Chanticleer and why labels weren’t plentiful.  Eric told me that there was a fine line between education and the purpose of the garden being a pleasure garden.  Having labels everywhere can detract from the overall presentation of plants.  However, labels were made for plants that attracted frequent visitor questions.   

After I met with Eric, I headed to the gravel garden to help Chris Freimuth, one of the interns for the summer.  The gravel and nearby ruin garden is one of my favorite parts of Chanticleer. I don’t think I realized it at the time, but working in the gravel garden was probably my first good perspective at plants growing in gravel, and spending time in this garden made me realize that gravel was an easy way to force plants to grow under stress to reduce weed competition and increase plant diversity.     

I love the perennial plantings in the gravel garden. Here, Orlaya grandiflora dances around Centaurea macrocephala and Asclepias tuberosa.

I love the perennial plantings in the gravel garden. Here, Orlaya grandiflora dances around Centaurea macrocephala and Asclepias tuberosa.

Another shot of the gravel garden closer to the ruin. Another common plant that was woven through the plantings was the ever airy Nassella tenuissima.

Another shot of the gravel garden closer to the ruin. Another common plant that was woven through the plantings was the ever airy Nassella tenuissima.

Such dynamism here between the lines of Consolida ajacis and the curves of Nassella tenuissima. Note their fade as you approach the path on either side, which creates a sense of layering.

Such dynamism here between the lines of Consolida ajacis and the curves of Nassella tenuissima. Note their fade as you approach the path on either side, which creates a sense of layering.

Our task for the day was removing Orlaya grandiflora from a bed in the ruin garden.  It’s a self sowing annual.  The volunteers had been left just long enough to allow good seed set for next year, but at some point self sowers become a bit unsightly, and these had hit that mark.  I also have to add there was a bit of whimsy in seeing the planting change over the course of a late morning.

Here’s a photo of the bed that Chris and I worked in to remove the Orlaya grandiflora. Notice there are still blooms to see, but much of it has gone to seed.

Here’s a photo of the bed that Chris and I worked in to remove the Orlaya grandiflora. Notice there are still blooms to see, but much of it has gone to seed.

I pause from helping Chris Freimuth remove the Orlaya to snap a photo of the process.

I pause from helping Chris Freimuth remove the Orlaya to snap a photo of the process.

Here is the after. With the Orlaya gone, you can more clearly see the other perennials that comprise the planting.

Here is the after. With the Orlaya gone, you can more clearly see the other perennials that comprise the planting.

 
And, I love photographing minutiae like the edge here between the grass and gravel.

And, I love photographing minutiae like the edge here between the grass and gravel.

 

In the afternoon I spent some time with Przemek Walczak in Bell’s Woodland, the native plant garden that runs along the creek called Bell’s Run.  We discussed his efforts to channel wilderness through the garden. The entrance to this part of Chanticleer is a faux log bridge covered with vines and other plants to blend it into its surroundings. We also discussed his handwork with wood from structures made in the garden to a simple bee hotel made out of kindling.

The entrance to Bell’s Woodland is a bridge that is designed to resemble a fallen tree. Note the plant list box on the left that resembles a hornet nest!

The entrance to Bell’s Woodland is a bridge that is designed to resemble a fallen tree. Note the plant list box on the left that resembles a hornet nest!

Along the bridge are planters with sedum and mosses to soften the edges of the hardscape.

Along the bridge are planters with sedum and mosses to soften the edges of the hardscape.

This native insect hotel was one of Przemek’s creations. Such an easy project for kids to teach them about the importance of pollinators.

This native insect hotel was one of Przemek’s creations. Such an easy project for kids to teach them about the importance of pollinators.

Many have the concept that native plant gardens are all green and ho-hum, but this mass of Spigelia marilandica is certainly something to behold in Bell’s Woodland.

Many have the concept that native plant gardens are all green and ho-hum, but this mass of Spigelia marilandica is certainly something to behold in Bell’s Woodland.

 
Vegetation hugs the edges of Bell’s Run.

Vegetation hugs the edges of Bell’s Run.

 
An opening in Bell’s Woodland

An opening in Bell’s Woodland

We also discussed his approach to growing plants in Bell’s Woodland. One way that he propagates species is that he sows perennial seed on the ground to stratify and then covers it with mesh to keep hungry frugivores away. I thought this approach a clever way to take advantage of nature’s refrigerator. Przemek is also a fan of hugelkultur, the practice of creating garden beds using logs and other debris as a base and topped with growing media. It allows gardeners to quickly create elevated surfaces in their garden as well as hide fallen detritus.

A hugelkulture bed in Bell’s Woodland freshly planted with perennials

A hugelkulture bed in Bell’s Woodland freshly planted with perennials

The second day of guest gardening came to an end. I was excited to see what tomorrow had in store. Part three is coming soon!

Manicured lawn sinuously flows into wild plantings along Bell’s Runs.

Manicured lawn sinuously flows into wild plantings along Bell’s Runs.

In Praise of Ipomopsis

Ipomopsis rubra has started flowering in my garden for the first time this year. My genetics came from a single roadside plant near town that I saw blooming last year. I lucked out getting the seed just before the mowers came along for their annual July cut.

I sowed the seed last November into a cold frame and was surprised when they germinated within a week, an observation that suggested there was either no dormancy mechanism or that dry storage had allowed time for after-ripening. Three months later in early February, I transplanted the dew-collecting basal rosettes to a bed once they had had a chance to bulk up some foliage. And, now I’m able to enjoy the results of my labor.  

 
Ipomopsis blooming along the fence that surrounds our patch

Ipomopsis blooming along the fence that surrounds our patch

 

I like watching Ruby-throated Hummingbirds flit through my plants.  The red, tubular-to-salverform flowers and the high nectar content are tell-tale characters that these avian foragers visit the plants.  Researchers have even noted that the “trilevel orientation of the stamens” provide a close fit for the base of the bird’s beak, making pollen shed onto the pollinator even more efficient.

But, I should note that even before they flower, the plants have an interesting texture due to their heavily dissected foliage. Some say the leaf’s resemblance to Taxodium foliage is where this species gets the common name standing cypress. To me, they appear like giant green pipe cleaners thrust into the ground, and when the unfortunate wind storm occurs, they can bend just as easy. 

 
Ipomopsis rubra foliage resembles Taxodium leaves. Perhaps that’s the origin of the common name standing cypress?

Ipomopsis rubra foliage resembles Taxodium leaves. Perhaps that’s the origin of the common name standing cypress?

 

Next year, I’m going to sow seeds into some gravel beds to stress these biennials a bit more and keep them shorter to prevent the lodging issue.  Some of mine are up to at least my shoulders.  This species occurs primarily in xeric habitats across the southeast, and I wonder if our rich soil may have given them an extra boost.

Ipomopsis rubra thrives in a gravel garden in Denver.

Ipomopsis rubra thrives in a gravel garden in Denver.

 
Ipomopsis rubra growing amongst cacti, palms, and yuccas at The John Fairey Garden (formerly Peckerwood).

Ipomopsis rubra growing amongst cacti, palms, and yuccas at The John Fairey Garden (formerly Peckerwood).

 

I’ll also take some seed back to where I collected that first handful.  Just because I thieved some to get it started at my house doesn’t mean that others shouldn’t be able to enjoy roadside Ipomopsis during the summer.

Here’s to enjoying Ipomopsis for many years to come!

Here’s to enjoying Ipomopsis for many years to come!