If it wasn’t for Gail’s lists and ability to prioritize, I’d probably have lost my tiny mind by now. There is so much to do that seems to need doing right-this-minute that without the lists, I’d feel pulled in a gajillion different directions at once. Like I am at home. (Let this be a lesson to me.)

Our priority for this week was to plant annuals and tender perennials — to get them out of their confining nursery pots and into the ground, now that the nights are suddenly and consistently warm. But first, before we could do that, we had to take the tulips out of the gardens. (We plant annuals in the tulips’ place, which is great because it keeps the soil we plant in fluffy and easy to dig.) The timing worked out perfectly: most of the tulip flowers that held on into this week were shattered by rain so we had no remorse digging them up for summer storage down cellar. (We’ll let the foliage die back for a week or two before detaching it from the bulbs. Then we’ll keep the bulbs dry and dark in labeled paper bags until we’re ready to plant them again in the fall.)

But first, to make room downstairs for the tulips, we had to bring up the dahlias. Again the timing was just right because they’re beginning to grow. We potted some up and will plant the rest directly in the ground in the next week or two.

But first, to make room in the greenhouse for the dahlias — and to harden off the plants that needed planting this week — we had to move them outside. And then we had to place them where we wanted to plant them in the gardens. I wish I had gotten pictures of everyone working so hard to accomplish all of this but I had plants or a spade in my hand the whole time too. (I wish I was better at multitasking…) Instead here are the Rose and North Garden after tulips-out and planting.

If planting (with its attendant to-dos) was all we had to keep track of I could probably keep my head and post a blog or two. But we were also pulled towards the plants already in the gardens, which have responded to the change from spring to summer with a burst of growth. Keeping up with the weeds is one thing but it’s also time to do the Chelsea Chop (so named because the timing coincides with the world famous Chelsea Flower Show in London). Mid-to late-summer bloomers can use a trim by a third to a half now (and even again a time or two before the end of June) to keep them from becoming leggy or top heavy and splaying open as they bloom. It takes hard-core optimism to whack back beautiful new growth but after forgetting to do it, I can say it’s well worth it. Especially for plants like agastache, beebalm, rudbeckia, coreopsis, asters, boltonia, helianthus, kalimeris, Sedums like ‘Autumn Joy’, … Their flowers might come out a little later and they might be smaller but there will be more of them and the plant will look lush. And if we don’t have to run around staking things later, it’s time well spent.

And to top off “planting week”, Betsy and Gail added container design to yesterday’s list so that we could plant them today while a little more rain waters the gardens in.

What’s on your to-do list right now? (Do you write one or do you go a little nuts like me?) Do you remember to stop and enjoy it?

I think we outdid ourselves. In the last couple of weeks Gail, Betsy, the volunteers, and I planted about 700 perennials and a handful of shrubs. Going into our planning season this past winter, Gail and I both thought that we wouldn’t place big perennial orders this year. Then the catalogs arrived and we couldn’t help ourselves. Our excuse is that we want these gardens to be wow-full and inspire visitors. We want to stay au courant, plant what the kids are planting now, try new things to see if they really are as great as their write-ups, and retry old favorites that might deserve a comeback. So we didn’t hold back when we went to nurseries and plant sales either.

I’m pretty excited to finally try bowman’s root (Gillenia trifoliata a.k.a Porteranthus), a native described as “tough” with delicate gaura-like flowers and red fall foliage. We placed it both in the pollinator garden and the Rock Garden where seriously tough conditions will give it the true test. I can’t wait to see if the ‘Blonde Ambition’ blue grama grass (Bouteloua gracilis) is the stunner I think it might be, and I have wanted blackberry lily (Belamcanda chinensis) for ages but had trouble finding it. Here’s hoping it takes off like this regular old passalong plant is supposed to.

Our new “foliage bed” was too much fun to shop for. Of course we have to try new heucheras and were assured that ‘Citronelle’ (both Gail and I are suckers for chartreuse foliage), ‘Encore’, and ‘Dark Secret’ are as awesome as they come. We finally have the perfect spot to try shredded umbrella plant (Syneilesis aconitifolia) but we still haven’t found the exactly right place for sycamore-leaf false nettle (Boehmeria platanifolia), which by all accounts is one of the coolest, hippest foliage plants for partial shade. (Why didn’t we have that yet? It doesn’t matter. We have it now. ) Catchfly (Silene latifolia ‘Rollie’s Favorite’) is already earning its keep in the Rock Garden. Even if it doesn’t survive (and why wouldn’t it? — drought maybe?) I’d use it like an annual especially if it continues to bloom all season like the description says it will (after a shearing).

Even though it seemed last year like our gardens were getting saturated perennial-wise, somehow, miraculously, there’s always room for newbies in May. (It’s not so miraculous actually. Removing giant patches of place-holding rudbeckia and Shasta daisy is my favorite way to open up new plant slots, especially at home.)

Have you been planting perennials too? Any you’re especially excited about?

Daffodil Days culminates this coming Sunday with our annual Fairy Festival and we expect all of Blithewold’s fairies to come out for the party. Conditions should be just right. A warm and sunny day is in the forecast and there will be plenty of believers on the property… I’m pretty sure I know where they’ve been hiding lately too. If I was a fairy I’d probably hang out with the daffodils in the Bosquet (they’re still in peak bloom) probably under the open parasols of the mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum) and kicking back on trout lily leaves.

But there’s really no better fairy camouflage than epimedium. Especially now while it displays tiny blooms that look enough like real fairy wings to earn that as one of its common names. — Or is it the leaves that look like fairies’ wings because, come to think of it, to me the flowers look more like court jester hats. But then the leaves look more like hearts… Maybe on Sunday, when we get a better look at the fairies, we’ll be able to tell what’s what.

In any case, anyone who wants to attract fairies to their garden should definitely consider planting epimedium. And even if you’re allergic to fairy stings, you might fall for epimedium just because it’s one of the prettiest groundcovers of all time for shade. Our biggest colonies are planted in the Rock Garden and just outside the Rose Garden moongate, in a bed we refer to as the “dry shade bed”. The ground under the Pagoda tree (Sophora japonica) is dry and compacted but these dainty and delicate looking plants have been perfectly happy to spread their wings (so to speak — rhizomes, actually) over the last few years to fill in where not much else wants to. They’re a whole lot tougher than they look. If you’re not already a fan, here’s another point in their favor: most are practically evergreen and need no more attention than a once-a-year haircut in late winter/early spring to make way for these spectacular (and sometimes speckled) new leaves and adorable flowers. And if you are already a fan, you know that planting one leads down a slippery slope to craving a whole collection. (There are about 40 species and who knows — I certainly don’t — how many cultivars.) Rarity though, is another point in their favor — despite their willingness to spread, they are not always easy to divide, which makes them a little bit precious and sometimes hard to find to buy. (Our favorite local source is Avant Gardens.)

Do you have fairies or fairy wings in your garden? Any favorites?

These last two days have been so spectacular — soft, sunny, and warm — that I can’t stand the thought of anyone being stuck indoors. I know I’m lucky (in a previous life I worked in a windowless office) and I wish you all could be out here with us. (If it’s any consolation, I’m inside now to work on this. But the door next to my desk is wide open and the greenhouse is behind me. I’m totally lucky.)

I had to include the above daffodil pictures in this post — they’re on their way towards peak — but before they blare every trumpet I feel justified in focusing on the spring tinies. Ephemerals like the trout lily (Erythronium americanum) that has speckled the Bosquet and every garden and is just beginning to bloom; tiny primroses (Primula veris vulgaris), and European ginger (Asarum europaeum) blooming almost invisibly in the Rock Garden; weird octopus’ garden foliage and buds of Muscari armeniacum ‘Valerie Finnis’; and the innocent-looking flowers and newly emerged foliage of butterbur (Petasites japonicus). There’s no indication that in 2 or 3 weeks time the butterbur’s leaves will be as big as tea tables…

(Click on any picture for a showier show and/or mouse over for captions.)

Speaking of innocent-looking, we started taking out, dividing, and moving around perennials that have grown close together in the Idea Garden. Everything is still so tiny that it’s hard to believe they’ll ever be shoulder height (some of them) and a lot of them look exactly alike (to me) at this stage. It was like a memory test to remember what’s what. And in fact it was hard enough for me to distinguish between the mountain mint (Pycnanthemum verticillatum) — which we want to replace with a showier P. muticum — and the Monarda fistulosa ‘Claire Grace’, planted side by side that I had to resort to the sniff test. Mountain mint definitely smells mintier… And we had to do some fancy footwork to avoid stepping on all of the perennials still so tucked in that we can barely even see them. But this is the perfect time to start to play musical perennials. We can even get away with stashing The Unplanted in bags in the shade for a week or two (I don’t mind making daylilies and rudbeckia wait even longer) until we figure out where they’ll live next.

Please tell me you were able to get into your garden to dig into (or just enjoy) spring’s tinies. (I’ll feel better if you have.)

Hurricane (Superstorm, Frankenstorm) Sandy hit others much worse than it hit us. We were very lucky. It wasn’t even as bad as Irene last year when we lost something like 19 trees. Only one came down with this storm that I saw along with a lot of leaves and twigs. But even that was no worse than the average fall bluster and blow. We even still have power. (Oops. Should have knocked wood. As soon as I wrote that the power went out and I’m forced to finish the post by phone.)

One of the most hyped and scary predictions was for an epic tide and storm surge. We did get that, but again, not nearly as disastrously as some. The water had receded by the time I checked the Rock Garden this morning but it was clear that it had been inundated. Everyone talks about how Hurricane Bob (1991) covered the Rock Garden in seaweed and salt marsh hay. There was none of that this time. The garden was covered instead in the top layer of leaf litter from under the junipers. It was inches thick in some places, and higher up on the “little Mt. Hope” slope than I’ve ever seen water rise. I also don’t ever remember seeing so many drowned worms before, which either means my memory is faulty or the garden was under water for longer than ever (in my time) before, which is quite possible since I heard that low tide was as high as a high tide. As far as the health of the plants is concerned, time will tell. But coming this late in the season, when they are regrouping anyway for a winter’s rest, I imagine most will be right as rain come spring.

How did you and your garden come through the storm? (Safe and sound, I hope.)