Random thoughts from a wilted gardener

Must be my Viking blood. I don't do heat well. Was up Sunday morning early to douse the garden with my watering can and soaker hose before peak evaporation kicked in. Even laid down a couple of bags of mulch, now that I know where the volunteer seedlings are. (Mulch can be a major destroyer of self-sown volunteers, a fact you can use to your advantage or disadvantage.)

When the heat dials up, however, I dial down. Sitting in the shade of my umbrella is a good time to observe, and to think random thoughts.

Random thought #1: Hummingbirds like Allium christophii. Who knew! They'd appear to be the least trumpetlike flower in my garden, but today a lovely irridescent green hummer spent a few minutes sipping from every star. (Every garden needs more alliums.)

Random thought #2: That white Baptisia I bought a few years ago; the one that has never bloomed? It's blue! I'm actually happy about that mis-labelling.

Random thought #3: Thanks to this heat spell, the garden's at least two weeks ahead of this time last year. Flower scapes on the Astilbe at least 18" (46 cm) tall, whereas in a photo taken May 25, 2009, there was no sign of them at all.

Randomly related thought: On the other hand, our infant Metasequoia glyptostroboides in the guerrilla garden might not make it through its fourth season. It prefers a moist location. Despite being watered every three days through the heat, its foliage is stressed. Down by the lake, closer to the water table, it might survive this kind of weather. Up here at the top of the hill on about a mile of inert sand, it's having a tough time. You can sometimes cheat with cultural or zone denial, but in the long run you're safer not to.

Random thought #4: Pinching back the Sedum 'Blackjack' does keep them more compact. However, the new foliage lacks the dark purple colouration... which is the plant's main feature, and the only reason I used them to replace old reliable and much more vigorous Sedum 'Autumn Joy.' Pity. Sometimes old reliables are better choices than "improved" cultivars.

Random thought #5: Amsonia tabernaemontana was one of the first plants that I fell in love with by description alone. I looked for it for years before finding it. After all that, I was quite disappointed the first time it finally bloomed. This year, I'm realizing that some plants must be waited for. It's now beginning to clump up enough to show that it's the lacy effect of a mature plant that's the key to its beauty. And it's quiet, rather than flashy. Mine isn't there yet, but my patience has been renewed.

And, at last, the weather has moderated on this final day of May. So my thoughts can become more collected.

Warning: Hosta Virus X

Take a close look at the mottled colour on this hosta leaf, a pattern known as inkbleed. It's one of the first signs that a hosta has been infected by Hosta Virus X (HVX), for which there is no cure.

Photos of other telltale symptoms of this disease – which has become a silent epidemic in the hosta world – can be seen on this page from HostaLibrary.org. Follow the link to more info at the bottom of that page. I stumbled on their info a year ago when researching hosta varieties. That's how I was able to recognize it yesterday on the leaves of my Hosta 'Janet'. To my great alarm.

HVX is spread by contact with sap from other hostas, but can take years to develop. Likely my 'Janet' came into the garden already infected. Simple garden chores, like cutting off spent flower scapes, can spread HVX from plant to plant. As I said, there is no cure. My only option is to carefully dig up 'Janet', with all her roots, and destroy her. Sob.

That will leave a massive hole in my small, shady garden. Now I'll watch the other hostas like a hawk for signs of HVX. My collection includes known infected varieties, such as 'June' and 'Striptease.' And 'Janet'.

But I do denial well. She is one big, beautiful hosta at the moment, and the infection only shows on a couple of leaves. Before getting rid of her, I'll be looking around, desperately, for alternatives. Sadly, I doubt I'll find any.

For more reading on HVX, check out this article from Reilly's Country Gardens and this article from Dave's Garden, which adds to the details from the Hosta Library.

So much for my cool weather crops

Our little 0.0018 acre looks a whole lot neater than it did last year. If you were reading Toronto Gardens then, you might recall our very late start in July 2009 as brand new plot owners at the East York Community Garden.

Earlier this year, I described how Mr. TG created raised beds using cedar planks. Since then, we've marked out our 4x8 plots for Square Foot Gardening. It's our first time trying this.

Some of those squares have been planted with cool season crops such as lettuce, peas and spinach. We also planted sets of shallots. This heat spell is probably going to stress the cold-lovers out, however. If that's the case now, we'll have another chance to try them after midsummer.

Soon, perhaps tomorrow if the rain comes as promised, the tomatoes, beans, carrots and other warm-weather fans will go into the ground. We'll be spacing our sowings of seeds at one- or two-week intervals, for a more continuous harvest in smaller batches. That's the theory, in any case. Stay tuned to see how that works in practice.

Tamarix: One of the Dirty Dozen

Pretty, isn't it? Tamarix ramosissima, also known as tamarisk or saltcedar, is blooming with extra vigor here and there around the city. When not in bloom, it looks unassuming, and sparsely feathered – as if a shrub had disguised itself as asparagus fern.

Don't be fooled. I used to wonder why it wasn't more widely planted. Now I know that tamarisk is one of the Nature Conservancy's Dirty Dozen most invasive ornamental plants – and one of the World Conservation Union's 100 worst alien invaders.

Already a big problem south of the border, the threat hasn't yet reached Ontario, from what I can see. However, western provinces such as Manitoba (see link above) and Alberta are issuing warnings. Most at risk are areas with ample water, such as riverbanks, as the tamarisk has a wicked thirst – up to 750 litres (200 gallons) per day. That's per day.

The tamarisk shrub or tree produces salt secretions that make growing conditions inhospitable to other plants. In that way, it muscles out native riparian species.

A quick Google search shows that Tamarix is still available for purchase in local nurseries. As pretty as these frothy flowers are, I'd think twice before buying.

Lust List: Japanese Umbrella Pine

The Japanese umbrella pine isn't a pine; it's Sciadopitys verticillata, and like the ginkgo tree it has a prehistoric history. You can read all about it in this article from the University of Arkansas and this article from Conifers.org.

What it is, though, is stop-in-your-tracks gorgeous. Yes, that's the correct botanical term. Those crazy upside-down umbrellas of long, flattish, whorled needles are highly decorative, and should be sited where they can be admired up close.

As slow-growers (it will take 100 years to reach its mature height of 25-40 feet), these trees well suited to small gardens, especially if you can provide it with moist but well-drained acid soil with protection from drying winds.

This one is stopping foot traffic in an East York garden, and looking dramatic against dark Japanese maple foliage. Wish it were at my house, but I have too much shade, too much sand, and not enough moisture. Story of my sad, sciadopitysless life.

Red Alert: Lily Leaf Beetle Eggs

Nip your lily leaf beetle problem in the bud, or in the egg, by squishing this pest's red, shiny ova before they hatch. Here's what they look like... laid in a line, on the underside of lily leaves.

Oriental and Asiatic lilies are particularly yummy to the lily leaf beetle, and the three successive generations of these bugs per summer can denude a lily as quickly as that.

No leaves, then no food production to feed the bulb. Soon, no bulb.

In my garden, 2009 was the worst invasion yet of these pretty, but voracious, red beetles. For info on safe control of the adults and larvae (fingers may be involved), see my posts from June and August of last year, here and here. But the best defense is at the egg stage, when they'll hold still long enough for the Flying Squishing Fingers of Fate to do their business. Get to it.

Red Admiral butterfly's Blooms Day tour in May

Hello, I'm a Red Admiral butterfly, and I'll be your host on May 15, 2010 for Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day.

As you can see, I'm enjoying the last of the lilac nectar this sunny morning. Now that I'm a butterfly, it's one of my favourite foods. (When I was just a caterpillar, I preferred eating nettles.) There are a few of us Red Admirals flitting about today. In fact, it has been a bit of a garden party.

But enough about us. You're here to see what's blooming, aren't you? It doesn't seem like a lot when you're flying around, but when you get up-close, like I do, it's very pretty. The human with the camera has tried out some little black marks under some of the pictures to explain. Perhaps they'll make more sense to you.

While you're figuring that out, I'll have a little sit in this nice warm spot. The sun has been MIA for about a week, and it has been unseasonably cold and rainy, so it's a change to spread my wings. Ahhh. That feels good.

However, you know me. I never sit still for long. Soon, my antennae noticed something different over there in the Microgarden (that's what the human calls it). It was a whole, expanding family of Allium christophii. I remember them when they were just seeds. Can't wait till they open.

And the Hesperis or dame's rocket that matches their colour so well looks a little less vigorous this year. (Don't be surprised. We Vanessa atalanta butterflies always know the Latin names of things.) Butterflies like Hesperis, but humans think it can get very invasive, especially in wild spaces.

What else is going on this Blooms Day? We'll, I noticed the human taking pictures over by the wall where that reflecty thing is.

She was putting some new plants in that spot the other day. The purple Helleborus looks pretty good with the colours of the Japanese painted fern, Athyrium niponicum.

I think she tucked the purpley-leafed Ranunculus 'Brazen Hussy' in that area, too, as well as the Corydalis 'Golden Panda.' That one has blue flowers with yellow leaves, with a little bit of burgundy to match the other foliage. Nice.

Uh oh. Gotta watch out for that green-eyed grey beast. She tried to eat me. Twice! Fortunately, I was too fast. I think the human helped a few times, too.

I had other company in the garden. The Dicentra spectabilis was getting a thorough examination from a bumble bee.

But seeing all that activity makes me feel kind of sleepy. Think I'll catch a nap over by the lilacs again. After a short slurp of nectar, that is. Whooo. That makes my tongue curl.

For Garden Bloggers' Blooms Day reports from other butterflies, and probably from one or two humans, too, visit Carol at May Dreams Gardens. I hear she hosts that party every 15th of the month.

Oh, no! Rust on my roses

Rust! I have rust. For the first time ever, rust on my roses. Not on my tough-as-old-boots Rosa 'New Dawn', but on my I-had-such-high-hopes-but-it-seems-they're-coming-to-naught David Austin rose, R. 'William Morris.'

Rust is a fungal disease, which spreads by spores. Sometimes, rust on roses is co-hosted by junipers, so I'll have to inspect the tree in my neighbour M's back yard.

As nine-tenths of pests and diseases have a cultural basis, however, I think I have only myself to blame: I moved 'William Morris' earlier this year, reducing its root system. Then we had that hot spell in April. It's likely that the combination weakened the rose. With the recent cold, wet weather, the rust was ready to move in and found a willing host.

Here's what the rust fruiting bodies look like on the back of the leaf.

You can control rust with a sulphur treatment, which is one of the things still permitted under the Ontario Pesticides Ban. So far, as it's not too widespread, I'm taking the first line of defense, which has been to carefully remove the rusty leaves and discard them. Hopefully, that will delay the spread. Cross your fingers.

World's Largest Lilac Collection (not at our house)

Set in the Arboretum of Burlington's Royal Botanical Gardens, the Lilac Dell is bursting with early blooms in 2010, due to the unseasonably warm spring.

The RBG boasts the largest collection of lilacs in the world, 800 species and varieties from around the world. At dusk, apparently the best time to bring your nose to a lilac, the perfume is cupped in the bowl of the dell like an offering. We recommend you inhale.

So many specimens are here, that the differences between them can be slight to the untrained eye. But all are labelled, and the interpretive walk at the entrance features informative signage.

That's how we learned, for example, that the lilac's colour and fragrance can depend on the previous summer's weather, as that is when lilacs set their buds. Too hot or too wet, and the fragrance will suffer. So it's possible that the 2010 vintage isn't the best year.

Sarah was on the hunt for the definitive "grape-popsicle" shade of dark purple. I was just there to enjoy.

Both of us chose to visit the RBG rather than a garden centre, as has been our Mother's Day tradition for many years, so that we could remove ourselves from plant-buying temptation. It worked!

And it might be the beginning of a whole new tradition, starting next year.

The lilacs in this post, from top to bottom, include: the pretty-in-pink Syringa x hyacinthiflora 'Maiden's Blush',  the double white and nicely fragrant S. vulgaris 'McMaster Centennial', the pretty-close-to-grape-popsicle purple S. vulgaris 'Znamya Lemina' silhouetted against the white of a massive, native Cornus florida, and the dainty and fragrant double pink S. oblata dilatata hybrid 'Annabel'.

Baby, it's cold outside (bring in those tender plants)

Mother's Day weekend is proving to be windy and cold. Hope you weren't fooled by the recent Floridian weather into planting too soon.

Tomatoes, peppers and eggplants are among those pre-started plants that must be protected, especially overnight, when temps dip to near zero, as they could tonight and tomorrow. Certain vegetable seeds, including beans, might also be extremely unhappy in this kind of cold, wet weather.

Peas, lettuce and spinach, however, count themselves as cool-weather crops and can usually tough it out.

To protect your tender plants, here's advice from Veronica Callinan, a Toronto Master Gardener and president of the East York Garden Club:

If your plants are in containers, move them into the garage or close to a house wall. Regardless if they're in containers or in the ground, cover them with an old bed- or painting-sheet, or big sheet of plastic (like dry cleaner bags) and secure with bricks or stones, as it is expected to be windy. 

Won't be long till we're back to planting season. In Toronto, the Victoria Day weekend is the traditional safe planting date. Closer to Lake Ontario, you can often move this date forward a little for most plants. For tomatoes, however, if in doubt, don't plant them out. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound (or more) of tomatoes.

Heirloom-ish tomatoes from the Toronto Botanical Garden

I feel virtuous about spending at the Toronto Botanical Garden plant sale (which remains on till Sunday). Virtuous because what I bought* was tomato plants, mostly heritage ones at that. Three of them will find a home at my allotment in the community garden. One will probably stay home with mamma, churning out cherry tomatoes.

I picked varieties that should produce fruit in stages throughout the season, although if things go better than last year (hopefully, avoiding late blight), there'll be a glut of tomatoes at the end of the season.

Staying home will be Lycopersicon (or Solanum – I wish taxonomists would cut out all these name changes) 'Sweet Million', said to be an improved version of the 'Sweet 100' cherry tomato, producing millions of sweet fruits, even in part shade. Well, we'll put that to the test in the Microgarden. It matures in about 60 days, the earliest of my picks.

Next is 'Fireball', which matures in 65 days – very early for a beefsteak type tomato. Like me, it was introduced in 1952, so calling us heirloom or heritage tomatoes might be a little much. Still.

Then we come to 'Arkansas Traveler', a mid-season tomato noted for its drought resistance. I've read it's a good producer of small to medium-sized pink tomatoes. Although the label says "pre-1900s heirloom," other sources say this is a late-20th-century release by the same name as a heritage tomato.

Finally, there's the late-season tomato 'Black Krim', which really is heritage.  I've read rave reviews about its flavour, so am eager for the first bite of this black tomato, in about 75-90 days.

Pictured here, besides my baby tomatoes, is celebrity checkout guy Paul Zammit, the TBG's director of horticulture. Also, a scene from the plant sale. Lots of goodies to tempt people.

*Okay, I admit to buying two more plants: Epimedium rubrum and a Baptisia 'Purple Smoke.' I'll find a home for them somewhere.

[Update: I hit "Publish" too soon, because I meant to link to this comprehensive tomato-growing article from Fine Gardening magazine. Everyone growing tomatoes should bookmark this resource, with its easy-to-understand instructions for growing your best tomatoes ever, regardless of which variety you're tempted by.]

Almost Wordless Wednesday: Texture

You can add texture to your garden in many ways. Here, we have a tulip with fringed petals, one of the many forms (or textures) available in hybrid tulips today.

Imagine having two tulip varieties blooming together in the same colour, but with different textures – simple but dramatic.

Or try contrast. I don't know the name of my red tulip (it was labelled "red fringed tulip"), but it's a mid-to-late bloomer alongside the elegant, lily-flowered Tulipa 'White Triumphator'. Red and white. How Canadian.

A bouquet of tulips

At the Toronto Botanical Garden on Sunday, we visited the Ontario Rock Garden and Hardy Plant Society plant sale. Wow. Wall-to-wall plants and people make for a floral feeding frenzy. Considering the temptations, Sarah & I were restrained, coming home with only three and two plants. (The members' preview for the TBG's own plant sale is this Wednesday, May 5th; that, and the 10% discount, are great reasons to join.)

The so-called rain made only a brief show, and soon the day was baking. TBG's Piet Oudolf-designed entry garden seems to be a month ahead of schedule. Facing south, sheltered, and slightly elevated, this little microclimate seems to be in the Carolinas. Baptisia two feet tall. Peony buds, dewy with nectar and visiting ants. And tulips, of course, already nearing their apex.

The season is accelerating at an alarming pace. Better get out there and enjoy the spring bulbs. Shown at the top, I'm guessing the pink one is the peony-flowered Tulipa 'Angelique', but unsure what the orange fellow is making this particularly brazen display.

Above and below, two shots of renegade colours from the purple tulip beds at St. James Cathedral.

Gotta love those orange tulips. Above is Tulipa 'Prinses Irene'. Yes, that's how you spell it. Its purpley flashes at the base are subdued in this photo by the full cup of sunshine.

Lily-flowered Tulipa 'Ballerina', which is welcome to dance in my garden anytime it likes.

This year, the TBG volunteers and staff were a little too previous (as our Gran would have said) about cutting back last year's grasses from amongst the tulips in the Garden Hall Courtyard garden (here are some images from last year). One little patch remained in a small bed by the parking lot. Analogous colours and contrasting textures made a picturesque meeting of the seasons.

Crown Imperial Fritillaria in St. James Park

Because the trip took me through St. James Park beside the cathedral, I'm glad I decided to walk to the subway from my meeting yesterday, despite my inappropriate shoes. I won't dwell on how I suffered.

Instead, I'll wax mildly poetic about Fritillaria imperialis, the crown imperial fritillaria. What an exotic bulb this is, with its pineapple-like tuft of leaves atop pendant orange (or yellow) bells with their prominent white stamens. Even the stems are decorative; a mottled purple.

Here, I'll risk using the extra-large photo feature. They really are worth a close look.

Perhaps the only demerit against crown imperials is their scent, if scent we can call it, which is rather skunky. In a large garden, that might not be a problem. In a Microgarden like mine, it could be a little oppressive.

So great to know that all I'll need to do is head down to King and Church Streets for a bit of a fix.

Crown imperials are a relation of the pretty checkered lily (much nicer name than the snake's-head lily, by which it is also known; see the link below for other history details from Paghat's Garden). We saw an enviable display of checkered lilies or Fritillaria meleagris in Barry Parker's garden last Sunday (pictured here).

Crown imperials like a well-drained soil, good sun, and not too much moisture. Checkered lilies, on the other hand, prefer the semi-shade and moisture of woodland gardens.

At one time, the St. James Cathedral gardens were a project of the Garden Club of Toronto. Unsure if they're still maintaining the spring display, which is pretty spectactular at the moment. If you happen to be downtown, take a walk and grab some ideas for your own garden. It isn't too early to be making lists for next year.