Effortless Grace of Bridalwreath Spirea

Bridalwreath spirea - tiny bouquets!

Cascading white fountains are popping up all over town. It's bridalwreath spirea (Spiraea x vanhouttei)  time. I live in an old suburb with a big mix of houses from Victorians to McMansions. Many of the older homes have at least one of these Victorian grand dames of blooming shrubs, including mine. This is the only spirea that I absolutely adore. Part of it is sentiment - I used to pluck the flowers to use as bouquets for my Barbie's weddings. They were the perfect size and shape. Mostly, I am fond of this shrub for its exuberance. I think bridalwreath spirea looks best when left to its own fountainy devices in all it's flowing glory. This is not a small shrub.  It is virtually impossible to kill. It even tolerates shade, though it prefers full sun. I cut mine almost to the ground about every five years or it would eat the porch.

This spirea is also an important indicator plant. What does it indicate? Well, when it blooms, it means that it is warm enough to treat certain pests and diseases. For example, when bridalwreath spirea begins to bloom, it's the time to treat euonymus scale because the tiny litte caterpillars (or crawlers) are out and about. You can kill the crawlers with insecticide, but not the adults. Indicator plants give us a good guideline as when pests and diseases are vulnerable so we don't spend time, money and chemicals wastefully.

So, not only is it pretty, but I can use it to predict when to treat a number of things. In the Chicago area, my pest and disease teacher, Don Orton is a local legend. He compiled Coincide: The Orton System of Pest and Disease Management which is an invaluable book about when and how to treat a huge range of common problems.  In class, inevitabley, the answer to a question about indicator plants was a chorus of Spiraea x vanhouttei! If you've got enough space and enough sun, consider adding this old fashioned, tough as nails, beauty.

My beauty

The Further Adventures of Dave the Elm

Dave the elm has lost his virginity. This spring, for the first time he has seeds! Why is this exciting? Have I gone completely off my nut? Why do I want baby elms? Because Dave (Ulmus davidiana) isn't sold in nurseries, or at least not around here. It's his twelfth spring with us and he's doing very well after a bumpy planting and a hardcore pruning. Dave is from China and is highly disease resistant. He's toughed it out with two neighboring elms going down to Dutch elm disease, and by neighboring I mean about 100 feet. We watch Dave like a hawk, but so far nary a sign of DED. He's developing into a lovely vase shape. Really, so far, everything to love about an elm. I'm not sure it will get much above 40 feet, but heck, that's still a good sized shade tree. So...who wants some seeds?

Spring Blossoms into Summer?

How pretty is this iris?

I'm starting with a picture of one of my favorite spring bulbs - Katherine Hodgkin iris. They are small and sweet and this year popped out of the ground in about twenty-four hours. They bloomed for a couple of days and then our 70s and low 80s caused them to wither and fade. They don't usually last more than a week, but our ridiculous temperatures have accelerated everything. I'm wearing shorts! In March!

The bees are moving too fast for a picture.

The boxwood at the back door is blooming, much to the delight of bees and bugs. Some folks hate the scent, but I rather like it. This one came with the house and is some kind of Korean. It's about six feet high.

Fragrant forsythia

It is a glorious year for forsythia. The mild winter meant that flower buds were not killed off and warm sunny days sent them bursting into bloom. I'm just not used to seeing magnolia and forsythia bloom at the same time. My redbud is seriously considering flowering, too.

Early kaufmanniana tulips

I adore spring flowers, but I plant in a succesion on purpose. These are early waterlily type tulips.  However, early is usually APRIL! I like to cut daffodils and tulips for bouquets for a good six to eight weeks. Usually, I can do this. This year? All bets are off.

Signs of Spring

Look! Crocus! They're only about an inch and a half tall.

It's been a goofy winter, but I'm still glad that spring is coming. The monotony of brown is beginning to get to me, so I'm seeking out any signs of life in my garden. The witchhazel and snowdrops have been blooming since January, but now I'm seeing more little signals that spring is in the air.

The daffodils are impatient.

The snow crocus has pushed out buds and is considering blooming. My early tulips are up and so are the early daffodils. The pulsatilla has returned and may bloom this year. Buds are swelling on the trees. The chipmunks have made an appearance. Our cardinal couple is back and hopefully this time will not nest in the golden privet by the back door. They were very perturbed that we passed by every day, multiple times a day. I warned them that though it's a nice dense shrub, it's like Grand Central Station. Maybe they'll figure it out this year.

Who knows what this year will bring? Our warmer winter means not as many pests were killed off. I suspect we'll have more Japanese beetle and bagworm. The welcome back party for work was at the local VFW this past weekend and their arborvitae hedge is brimming with bagworm. The tree and shrub staff will probably swing by again, just to check it out. We're that kind of plant/bug geek.

So as today's temperatures seem set to top 60, I've unloaded the 40 pound bag of cat litter from the trunk of the convertible (It seems to help when driving in snow and if I ever get stuck, instant grit!). The rule of the roadster - if it's above 50 and sunny, the top comes down!

Wonderful Witchhazel

Spring is coming.

How do I know? The snowdrops have been blooming for nearly a month and the witchhazel has decided to flower. I planted them on purpose to save my sanity after our long winters. This winter, of course, has been very mild. I still miss not getting enough snow!

Buds just cracking open

I have a spring blooming witchhazel (Hamamelis vernalis) that has finally reached a decent size after a couple of winters of rabbit munching. They don't grow especially quickly, which is unusual in my garden. Most of my trees and shrubs grow at fantastic rates, far quicker than they should. Not the witchhazel. It is taking its sweet time. Some day it will be 10 to 12 feet, but not for many years. I'm very fond of its big ruffled leaves that turn brilliant gold in the fall and its explosive seed pods that send seed far and wide (not that it reseeds, they can be tricky to propagate).

What pretty little dazzlers

I fell in love with witchhazel's strappy star-like flowers and its lightly astringent scent. With a few more sunny days, it will be truly lovely, but for now the petals are only about halfway extended. Its a cautious shrub. The snowdrops will fearlessly brave wind and snow, but the witchhazel needs convincing. That's how I'm sure spring is coming.

Primroses Are Too Cute

Hello, lovely!

February sometimes seems like the longest month. This year we don't have the excitement of a blizzard to break up the monotony of grey skies and bare branches. I get a little desperate for green, growing things and fall for the primoses every time. My local grocery store chain tends to sell them for about a buck and a half (two for $3!). How can I resist?

Nifty flower structure too!

There's no way I'm going to be able to grow primoses (Primula sp.) in my yard. They tend to prefer a moist, cool, woodland site - think England. Our Midwestern summers are too hot and too dry. And, well, everything grows better in England. Ask anybody. I've got my wee pot on the kitchen windowsill so it can get a good dose of sun, and it actually prefers the coolness. It gets watered nearly every day to keep it nice and moist in the dry house. As long as we keep deadheading it, this cheerful plant will bloom for weeks. Once it's done, off to the compost pile! In the meantime, I'm more than a little in love with its bright blooms.

A Mini Jungle: Terrariums

Here in the winter-bound Midwest, I get a little twitchy by the end of January or so. We're still locked down under snow and ice, or in the case of this odd winter, brown grass and mud. I start longing for green and growing things besides the rosemary (which is still alive, sort of). About this time of year the husband and I start hitting conservatories. However, this year I decided after a series of discussions at work, to build my own little conservatory - a terrarium.

I'm not a big miniature gardener. As a die hard tree geek, I like my plants huge and preferably climbable. There is, though, a charm in gardening on the small scale. A recent visit to my friend's lovely home gave me lots of inspiration. Joannie Rocchi is the Perennial Manager at The Growing Place in Aurora and a passionate plantswoman. Her house is filled with terrariums, luxuriant houseplants, and herbs. It was a glorious chance to satisfy my plant-deprived senses.

Joannie's newest endeavor is the water garden terrarium. In the giant jar she has duckweed and frog bit floating among pretty glass bubbles. A scattering of activated charcoal on the bottom keeps the little ecosystem healthy.

I loved this tiny clay house with its little clay stones and seed pods. This miniature moss garden lives under a glass cloche. Under the glass, it becomes a misty mystery.

Joannie prefers clear glass containers. Looking for a use for that old punch bowl? Why not fill it with plants? Add a ceramic mushroom or two, and you have your own personal jungle.

There are many resources for terrarium ideas. Here's my step by step process for my own little garden. I like Tovah Martin's book, The New Terrarium, in particular. I also found a nifty blog, The Fern & Mossery for all things terrarium that's packed with information and inspiration.