We’ve been so intent on planting the Display Garden that we’ve – not forgotten exactly – and not neglected certainly – but perhaps put off the Rock Garden a little lately. Since it’s at its very cutest now we made sure that the Rockettes (after planting the entire checkerboard bed in the Display Garden) got a chance to fuss a little over the precious Rock. I’m not entirely sure what makes the Rock Garden so “cute” – it’s not really diminutive, and although rock gardens are often a showcase for tiny alpines that you have to bend down with a magnifying glass to see, ours is not that exclusive – there are sizeable clumps of geranium and iris and columbine and hosta of an average rather than microscopic size along with the wee Alchemilla alpina and tiny campanulas and dianthus. I think there must be something about the poetry in the relationships between the plants and rocks and light and shade that makes this garden too adorable for words.

Lilah and I saw the poets themselves in some of the plant combinations. The ghostly pale spirea and skeletal columbine is Poe of course and the fleshy hosta combinations are as evocative as Neruda. Edna St. Vincent Millay recites the geraniums and Emily Dickinson always has something to say about an “admiring bog”. The violas remind us of Blithewold’s own dearly missed poet, Mary.  And for me there was at least one painterly association but then who doesn’t see Monet in the waterlilies?

Do you ever find yourself reminded of an author or artist as you look around your garden?

Positive visualization is a skill we gardeners get a lot of practice in. I think for any of us, whether we’re planting one or two things or designing beds, visualization goes way beyond garden-variety optimism to a creative knack for soothsaying. We totally have ESP. Gail, Lilah and I placed “the big empty” yesterday for the volunteers to help plant today and we talked about how we can actually see in our minds’ eyes what it will look like in August. Never mind that the plants that will grow the tallest, widest, burliest are the wee-est, spindliest specks now. We can see them in their ginormous glory.

I have heard that there are people in the world willing to pay an arm and a leg for an instant garden – and I freely admit to having a gracious plenty of impatience for a gardener – but would gardening be as gratifying if there wasn’t a process from dream to fruition? In any case, for us this was a really exciting part of the process. It’s one thing to have the plants on lists of paper and randomly scattered throughout the greenhouse and quite another to see how they’re all going to fit together in a big showy – soon to be purple-centric – bed. And if there are surprises and changes along the way, so much the better. (The gardener’s mind’s eye must always allow for some unpredictability.) I know I’ll talk more about our lavender/purple experiment as the garden grows but I can tell already (because I can read the future) that I’m going to love it.

We can see the future too in caterpillars munching on their favorite butterfly weed (Asclepias tuberosa) and we can predict that Fred and Dan’s new creation in the container garden will be one of the visitors’ favorite spots. Lilah has dubbed it “The Tanning Bench”.

Do you foresee your garden’s glory as you design and plant it?

As gaps go, this wasn’t a bad one in my book. Just now I seem to prefer a garden in budded transition – I think it satisfies my need for a glass is half full optimistic outlook (which may be followed all too closely by the half empty pessimism as soon as the buds open and I begin to mourn their passing). And just as the gap started to close on its own in the North Garden, we started planting annuals to help fill it up. Placing annuals is a mental toughness test for Gail and me – tempers can flare, frustration ensues, ennui sets in. Every year we have to relearn how to make the soup with “too many cooks” but the truth of the matter is we’re dependent on each other and wouldn’t want to attempt it alone. So we hemmed and hawed and placed and planted annuals (we couldn’t have done that without the volunteers!) in the annual pockets vacated by the tulips last week and in other open slivers of ground. And it will be beautiful. I’m especially proud of a little coup – a new color in the garden. We placed annuals in the Rose Garden the same morning and a tiny dahlia ordered for the Rose was switched at the last minute to the North. After all, what is a more divine complement to the prevailing french blue-y purples than a delicious apricot orange? We’re only a little nervous that it could look vile with all the pinks…

Here are a few of the May gap perennials in bloom just this week.

- Isn’t this the most OMG! iris? I swear I have never caught this bloom before and have no identification for it.  All I know is it’s one of Julie Morris’ favorites and I always wondered why.

Is your May gap filling up? Have you started planting annuals? Are you feeling pretty optimistic about it all?

After the tulips have gone by and before … everything else starts up in the North Garden, we cross The May Gap. It’s almost as if the garden is taking one last deep inhale before singing the high note of early summer – a note that sustains at least until … The July Gap. Gail and I annually focus at least 73% of the sum total of our garden design energy on creating and maintaining the look of peak bloom in that garden throughout the growing season but we are thwarted by late May. According to Gail, it was my predecessor, Sheila, who coined the phrase – probably with a sigh of resignation. There must be something that would bridge it. Perhaps we could tuck in cool season annuals – if we weren’t so consumed with moving and planting perennials in all the other gardens… Perhaps there are 3 or 4 early early blooming perennials we just haven’t thought of yet – that don’t take up too much room or are otherwise handsome for the rest of the season. Do you have any suggestions?

But just because the North Garden is on the quiet side doesn’t mean the rest of the property isn’t shouting out. Even though I’m here everyday to witness the transformation, I’m still amazed that -all of a sudden- it’s definitely fully late spring already – I would even call it early summer since Memorial Day is right around the corner. If you haven’t come to see the dove tree (Davidia involucrata) yet, ahem… what are you waiting for? It might not be as floriferous as last year but it’s still a beautiful beautiful thing. The empress trees (Paulownia tomentosa) are starting to scent the air with ode de cough syrup – good thing the blooms are gorgeous candelabras or I might not like them at all. And the tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipfera) buds will be open any day – I’m determined to catch them this year. Here is more evidence of visit worthy vistas:

And there are other May transformations around the property as well: New trees and shrubs planted, sculpture installed and gardens in the process of renewal. Every gardener knows there’s no lull now in the workload and not enough time in the day to accomplish everything on the list. Although we’ll switch gears next week from planting perennials to annuals, we can’t lose any speed. But if I happen to go quiet and miss a post or two now and then, you could call it The May Gap and know I’ll be gathering breath (and pictures) for a big shout.

Do you and your garden bridge The May Gap?

For the next few weeks Gail and I will plant, divide and move perennials in any kind of weather short of a monsoon-style downpour but we both had to agree that, even though we are Spring-sun junkies like most people, yesterday’s weather was perfect.  Overcast, spitting rain here and there, somewhere in the 50’s or low 60’s – the plants hardly noticed that they were being messed with and we warmed up as we worked. And the weather for the rest of the week looks ideal for a stress-free settling in. With rain and cloud-cover, plants can concentrate on repairing roots rather than urgently putting on green growth and photosynthesizing (and wilting from the exertion). It’s perfect weather for garden gazing and photography too – gray skies make colors pop. As usual, hover over for captions and click on for larger view.

We picked up where we left off last October when we rearranged the furniture in the North Garden, and took out a few more Phlox paniculata ‘David’ and added in our favorite (OK, my favorite) Phlox paniculata ‘Natural Feelings’. We replaced the standard pink Japanese anemone with white, early flowering Anemone ‘Honorine Jobert’. We tucked in a few sweet flag (Acorus calamus ‘Variegatus’) for some bright spears to break up the monotony of a predominantly billowy garden. And we plucked out a few of the front row catmints (Calamintha nepeta) and replaced them with a 12″ speedwell (Veronica ‘Twilight’) that we have high hopes for.  And everything we took out (aside from the potentially mildewy phlox) will be replanted in another garden. Gail calls it “Musical Plants” and we do a different version of that cake walk every year. There’s nothing like moving boring old perennials to another garden to rejuvenate our interest in them. Do you do that too? (- Do you ever move them to a friend’s garden and then want them back again?)

When I decided on the title for this post it occurred to me to mention conditioning flowers for arranging. Our volunteer flower arrangers are starting work this week and tomorrow Gail or I will cut tulips for Terri who is leading the pack. (Once or twice over the course of the season, each volunteer arranger will make two arrangements for the house with flowers and foliage we cut from the grounds.) Tulips are pretty easy as cut flowers go: Cut them before they’ve opened and place in plenty of water with a leaf or two still attached. They’ll keep growing in the vase and according to Garden to Vase: Growing and Using Your Own Cut Flowers by Linda Beutler, they prefer sugary water to bleachy and should last 10 days. My favorite trick for keeping the stems straight is to drop a penny in the vase – but sometimes a graceful flop is a lovely development. Do you cut your tulips or leave them in the garden?

The landscape is changing before our very eyes. Plants have taken advantage of the recent heatwavelet to push out leaves, flowers and seeds like it’s their job and they’re putting in for overtime. I’m astonished to look up and see nearly fully clothed trees – I thought I had been paying attention but it’s happening so quickly now. I’ve been told that it’s every New Englander’s birthright to complain about the weather and we are given special dispensation to whine about the brevity of spring. I have to admit that even though I like to think I have a Pollyanna-ish appreciation for all kinds of weather and a keen eye out for spring, I’ve been whining a little louder this year too. Wouldn’t we all like the tulips to hold on, the cherry trees and magnolias to keep blooming, and the trees to stay nearly naked in their feather soft lingerie a little longer? – Or is it just me?

Like the trees, we’ve taken advantage of the sun and warm temperatures too and are keeping ahead of schedule. Gail’s new mantra is “we’ll plant something everyday and it will all get done.” We’ve got another 8 weeks or so of planting ahead of us and if we keep up our industrious pace, we’ll be done in … I would guess … maybe 7 weeks. On Tuesday the Deadheads planted the sweet peas right on schedule – they graciously allowed me to take my annual chorus-line shot of them. And Wednesday the Rockettes tackled planting lettuce, cabbages, Swiss chard, beets, pansies, orlaya and calendula in the Display Garden bed that we have designated The Potager.  Gail and I wrestled the crowning agave into the (almost) exact center of the ellipse and are crossing our fingers that we won’t have a frost. The weeds, of course, are putting in overtime too and the Florabundas had their work cut out for them yesterday in the Rose Garden. (Gail and I planted peonies. – Plant something every day!)

Now that the weather has turned gray and rainy, we’ll complain a bit about that too. But everything recently planted will take the opportunity to get straight to work.

What is working overtime right now in your garden? – Are you?

The William F. and M. Kathleen Church Cutting Garden (I love using its whole name) went full circle yesterday – from spring’s tulips to spring’s tulips.  Last Tuesday, after cutting buckets of bouquets from the still blooming garden, the Deadheads made quick work of clearing out the beds.  Toni, a volunteer who claims to be older than God, said, “We may not be good gardeners but we sure are good at tearing it apart!”  I disagree with her assessment of the group’s gardening skills but I think she’s absolutely right about the Deadheads knack for tear down.  They had the garden emptied (except for dahlias which ought to be hit by a frost, and a few perennials); the fence cleaned of spent summer vines; and the long row of peonies all cut back all within about two hours.

Way back in early August, while I was on vacation, Gail and Lilah placed a massive tulip order.  And I’m so glad that Lilah made notes (collages actually, complete with cheeky comments and pictures cut from the catalog) about which gardens they were all intended for.  Do you ever place bulb orders and then wonder what the heck you were thinking by the time they arrive?  Not having to stare blankly at the boxes while scratching my head in search of a memory made bulb sorting so much easier.  Thank you, Lilah!  In the Cutting Garden we’re trying a bunch of new-to-us colors and a few combinations that, if they are gorgeous (I’m pretty sure my combo choices will be especially stunning, Lilah!), might make it into the North Garden next year.  And again, the Deadheads made quick work of a tedious job.   We’ve got-it-good in the Cutting Garden though -  the soil is soft and crumbly and there’s not even the challenge of roots and rocks to break the zen trance of planting in rows.

Fred and Dan took most of the vine fence down this week too and with that gone and the beds mostly empty (looking), it’s just like a blank page for fresh thoughts.  Or maybe a new year’s resolution or two.  I enjoyed that garden this year but for next I’d be inclined to say it needs More.  More color.  More rows filled to busting.  Maybe because some of the other Display Garden beds were so exhuberant and bright, the Cutting Garden seemed almost pale and empty in comparison.  Our list of cut flower favorites keeps growing – I’m not ready to give up our favorite asclepias (you know the one), and it’s not possible to grow that garden without zinnias, dahlias, gomphrena and scabiosa.  I’m pretty sure it just can’t be done!  But there’s always room for new tries and who knows, maybe some of the cutting garden favorites will find their ways into other beds…  It is a new year after all.

Are you thinking about new year’s resolutions yet in your garden?  Do you grow any flowers to cut?  Are there any you would love to recommend?

Maybe it’s the influence of living through the hoopla surrounding the 4th of July in Bristol, RI (home of the longest running – and longest marching – 4th of July parade in the country) but it seems like life is eventful at the moment.

Last Friday Gail and I celebrated the last hurdle hurdled before our July 4th week got-to-get-the-gardens-in deadline by a marathon planting of the newest Display Garden bed. Even though we were still tucking things in today, it feels like a major event to be officially finished planting!

After finishing that on Friday (and after scraping the most of the dirt from my fingernails and elbow wrinkles) I tagged along to the last garden in Blithewold’s Intimate Garden Tour Series. Our hosts welcomed the group with open arms and showed us what it means to actually live within the landscape – this was no mere garden! (Not that I’m dissing mere gardens – I, myself have one of those.) I have to say honestly that I didn’t expect to covet the house or even the property – 40 acres along a branch of the Westport River (erm, why wouldn’t I want that?). The house is ultra moderne but so site specific – it was designed and built for exactly that spot, no other – and really blurred the boundaries between inside and out which is what they were going for. It works in the dreamiest way possible. One of the couple is a landscape architect and rather than build things like a lot LAs do, he talked about “editing” the landscape. Sure there were elements they added but most of their touch was felt in care-full revealing of views. Sublime and sweet and magnificent all at once and although I can’t bring much of what they did “home” with me, I feel richer for seeing how elegantly it can be done. I’m only sorry that this was the last tour of the season and can’t encourage you to join the group for the next one.

I can encourage you to join us for Blithewold’s evening soirées – the next one is in the North Garden on July 16th – click here for details. That same week the Rhode Island Federation of Garden Clubs is presenting a flower show at Blithewold. Their gala is on July 17th and the show is open on the 18th and 19th. I haven’t found any information on line about how to or whether you can enter your own arrangements and horticultural specimens (and win as many blue ribbons as possible) so if you’re interested in finding out more, ask your favorite garden club member. Meanwhile, I’ll do the same and hopefully have more to tell you about it next time…

Seeing this fellow (and many others) in the last of the shredded leaf pile was eventful for the volunteers and me this morning. Anyone know what it’s going to grow up to be?

Finally the most major event in my recent days is a visit from none other than the famous and favorite Layanee of Ledge and Gardens! Thank you for the strawberries and I hope the sweet peas made the long ride home without wilting!

Gail doesn’t want me to admit this but we’ve both hit The Wall. It’s a June wall and I think we hit it every year as we finish planting and every year we think there’s something really the matter with us. We’ve been so wiped out for the past couple of weeks that Gail’s convinced that she has the flu and I’m so prone to inappropriately timed naps that I’m pretty sure I’ve developed narcolepsy. But what ails us is probably nothing more than “the slows”. Our slows generally coincide with summer humidity to which we haven’t yet acclimatized and that has made the blood in our veins turn to fluffernutter. And we’re ready to be done with the digging, heavy lifting and mental strain of design and placing plants. The good news is we’ve almost finished planting and moving out of the greenhouse. We just have one… more… new bed in the Display Garden to plant up as soon as Fred, Dan and Matt (their summer intern) finish creating something magical. Look out, kiddos – this one’s for you!

And we’re starting to move on to the next phase of garden chores that are perennially romanticized for being therapeutic: We’re weeding and deadheading! The Cutting Garden got a thorough going over this morning by the Deadheads who made their way at a steady pace through the beds.

It’s also time to do battle with the bugs – Dick’s veggie garden has a bad case of potato beetles – shown here in the larval stage. He finds drowning them slowly to be wickedly cathartic (though back breaking). Some of the Deadheads who helped him did not get the same degree of enjoyment out of plucking and drowning…

And the gardens are looking amazing – everyone says so – not just me! It’s good for us to take a minute to really gaze at them and enjoy them at their June peak (so long as we don’t take stopping for a minute as a nap’portunity). In the next week we’ll be lost in deadheading the roses and Lady’s mantle (Alchemilla mollis) but right now, this moment, they’re pretty perfect.

We’ve been entertained by a rather exciting electrical rainstorm this afternoon that has brought back some chilly breezes and I’m feeling a titch more energetic all of a sudden (which isn’t to say I couldn’t nap on the bench right now). Do you hit a Wall or get “the slows” this time of year? What do you do to get over it?

And the plants are too. For the last few days we’ve been hit by summer like a sucker punch to the gut with no chance to acclimate – one day it was chilly sweater weather; the next sent us gasping to our storage closets to find a pair of shorts that still fit. Even though we had a good soaking rain at the end of last week, plants are wilted. New growth on things like daphnes (this is Daphne ‘Carol Mackie’ on the right) hasn’t had time to “harden off” and is too wimpy to stand up to early onset hot washcloth summer weather. And the beach roses (Rosa rugosa) are in a floppy full bloom – their scent mingled in the heavy salty air makes breathing deeply seem like a really good idea.

There are weather advisories to stay indoors but at Blithewold the work is outside no matter what the weather – because it’s planting time! We gave the volunteers the day off though to seek A/C and Gail, Joel, Cathy, Lilah and I finished (almost) planting the newest Display Garden bed and then we spread a cool shady layer of shredded leaves. And I pondered on all the ways we give our annuals a fighting chance (even when we plant during a heat wave). Spreading mulch on newly planted beds really gives new plants a leg up by cooling the soil (you might think a thick blanket would warm it, but no…) and slowing evaporation.

And then there’s care-full planting: Have you ever popped an annual out of the ground at the end of the season and noticed that, like canned cranberry sauce, its root ball is still in the shape of a pot? Teasing root bound roots seems like abuse but most of the time it’s a good idea (there are a few things that resent root disturbance – when in doubt, best to look it up). I start by loosening roots from the top down to encourage the spiraling feeders to go south and depending on just how bound the plant was, I scuff the sides and bottom until there’s little evidence the plant was ever in container jail.

I’ve also noticed that some plants fail to thrive when they haven’t been planted deeply enough. If you can feel the edge of the root zone above the level of the soil, it’s been planted too high. Dig again! No cheaters either – if you just pile soil on top and hope for the best, what you’ll probably get is a wash out and an dried husk of a snapdragon. As a matter of fact, if you plant deeply enough to create a pocket all around the plant for catching water you’ll save yourself the disappointment of runoff when you water. My last tip of the day (I’m full of them today, aren’t I?) is to cut back your annuals when you plant them especially if they’re in full forced bloom. I know it’s tough but I’m pretty sure you’ll appreciate the gusto of branching and new blooms later.

Phew. If I hadn’t already retreated to the (dis)comfort of home, I might be inclined to stretch out on the guys’ latest creation. (It’s another Fred Perry original.) You’ve heard of stepables? What about sitables?! The herbs they planted in their hypertufa bench will be an overstuffed cushion in no thyme.