Hedges to keep the neighbors out

Thorny rugosa roses can fortify garden boundaries

By Amy McDowell

It was an otherwise quiet evening at the garden center. The after-work crowd had slowed as people headed home for dinner. The summer sun far in the western sky cast long shadows across the parking lot. I was monkeying with the bird feeder display when the bell on the door jangled, and I turned to greet a well-dressed woman in a tailored brown business suit. She approached with a frown.

“Do you sell poison ivy plants?” she asked.

“Poison ivy?” Surely I had heard her wrong. She must’ve said Boston ivy.

“Yes, poison ivy,” she said. “Can I buy poison ivy plants?”

I lifted my eyebrows and mentally reminded myself how stupid I look standing with my mouth hanging open. “Um, no, we don’t sell poison ivy,” I said, studying her brown eyes closely for signs of insanity.

“Oh.” Her shoulders fell a little. “Then how about seeds? Do you sell poison ivy seeds?”

“Uh, no.” I said, and finally caved in to my bafflement and asked why she wanted to grow poison ivy.

“It’s my neighbors,” she said. “They’re always cutting through my back yard. It’s even fenced and they climb right over!” She waved her flawless painted nails in the air and her diamond ring glittered under the fluorescent lights. “I yell at them and they act like they don’t understand English,” she said, “but I know they’d understand the international language of ITCH.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. She was not a lunatic, just bonkers and sick of being trespassed. When I couldn’t help her, she left the store exasperated.

I’ve since come up with the perfect remedy… rugosa roses. These fast-growing beauties are covered with barbaric thorns. The stiff stems are ferocious from ground to tip. Rugosas form a rounded thicket four to six feet tall and wide. Planted three or four feet apart, they make an impenetrable hedge.

Better yet, the fragrant fuschia, pink or white blooms in the summer are followed by red or orange rose hips in the fall. In Latin, ‘rugosa’ means ‘wrinkled,’ a name fitting the crinkled dark green foliage. Fall color is usually short lived and yellow, but some rugosas turn orange or red. Rugosas are among the most disease free of all roses, so they don’t need any pesticide sprays. Annual deadwood pruning in spring is the only care they require.

Rugosas prefer well-drained soil in full sun or light shade. Hardy from zones 2-7, rugosas are wintertime tough. They’ve “been seen 100 miles from the Arctic Circle in Siberia where the temperature regularly falls to –50 degrees Fahrenheit,” writes woody plantsman Michael Dirr in his Manual of Woody Landscape Plants, 1990, Stipes Publishing Co.

Because of their vigor and easy care, rugosas are used in hybridization programs for new roses.

Next time someone asks me about poison ivy to keep interlopers from the yard, I’ll be ready with a suggestion. The wicked prickly thorns of beautiful rugosa roses will keep even the most brazen intruders at bay.

Repotting Houseplants

Houseplants on the Windowsill

By Amy McDowell

Houseplant is such an ordinary name for something really wonderful. They are one of the delights that sustain my itch to garden in winter. My favorites are the philodendrons, and I have a collection of ten different kinds. There are hundreds of species of philodendrons, from tiny vines with thumbnail-size leaves to climbing monsters that can cover a home in a tropical environment.

There are two main reasons I dearly love philodendrons. I love the way the new leaves emerge and uncurl. That tender new growth reaching out reminds me of spring. And best of all, philodendrons are rarely targeted by insects. I have never had insects on my philodendrons, although some of my other houseplants get to be a mess with pests.

This is the time of year I work on repotting. With only mountains of catalogs, books, and magazines to keep me occupied, I enjoy working my hands into the potting soil.

Most houseplants are happiest when their roots are somewhat snug in their pots, but it is a good idea to slip the root ball out of the pot annually to take a look. I generally repot a plant once every three to five years.

The standard rule of thumb is to only go one pot size larger when repotting. If you transplant into a much larger pot, the plant sits in the center of all that new soil and struggles to overcome the transplant shock. The excess soil surrounding the roots holds too much moisture, and that can lead to root rot.

Many gift plants come in decorative sleeves that don’t drain. You’ve got to toss the sleeves right into the wastebasket and give your plant a pot with good drainage and a saucer underneath so you can dump out the excess water. The pot doesn’t have to be fancy—a healthy houseplant will become the focal point and a plain plastic pot will fade into the background.

Tending to houseplants is one of winter’s joys. With a little care, your windowsill garden can carry your spirit through until spring.

One born every minute

Suckering trees and shrubs

By Amy McDowell

In horticulture, there’s one born every minute. And there I was in the front yard in the chilly knee-deep February snow, pruning the suckers from around the base of my spring snow crabapple. I had read that if you prune suckers during the winter months they don’t grow back as quickly.

As the weather warmed in spring, tiny red buds emerged at the base of the trunk, and soon enough skinny suckers were growing up at the base of the tree again. Exasperated, I realized I’d been had—the only thing that had delayed the new shoots was winter.

Suckers are not all bad. Most of my favorite shrubs have a suckering habit that results in a broad mound of growth and a beautiful shape when mature. There are a great number of suckering shrubs, including lilacs (Syringa species), Hydrangeas, Spireas, pussy willow (Salix discolor), serviceberry (Amelanchier arborea) and bottlebrush buckeye (Aesculus parviflora). Many of these form dense thickets that create wonderful privacy when used as hedges. Frequently, you can dig the suckers from around the base of the original plant and use them to extend plantings around the garden.

Staghorn sumacs (Rhus typhena) ablaze in red and orange right now, and elderberry (Sambucus canadensis) sucker to form large, open colonies. Both are fairly aggressive for a small garden, but regular lawn mowing at the edge of the colony is all that’s needed to fight back their spread.

Suckers are a sign of a plant’s genetic vigor. A non-suckering shrub like purple-leaf sand cherry (Prunus cistena) can fall prey to collar rot in heavy clay soil, but if it had the ability to sucker, young new stems would keep the shrub alive as the older stems succumbed. If sand cherries suckered, it would vastly improve their durability and longevity in central Iowa landscapes.

Despite all of the great suckering plants out there, it’s still tough to come up with an advantage to the raggedy suckers at the bases of crabapple trees. Tender rabbit fodder, I guess, to slow their attacks on the tasty trunk bark.

You don't always have to plant in drifts

Rebel against the rules of gardening

By Amy McDowell

“Welcome to Plant Collectors Anonymous” announced the crinkled paper sign on the door. One edge was smudged with what looked like a dirty thumb print. A ring of beige metal folding chairs sat in the middle of the room, cold on my tush as I took a seat. Before long, the circle filled and latecomers had to dash to another room and clumsily drag in a few more chairs. The gardeners were a motley crew—young and old, tailored and frumpy. They sat and smiled awkwardly at one another, hands in their laps carefully twisted to hide the dirt that was, without exception, under their fingernails.

And the confessions began. One after another, each gardener rose and gave his or her first name, followed by that aching mantra, “and I’m a plant collector.” Oh! The shame! Would we ever conquer our collecting ways and plant properly, that is, in drifts? It was embarrassing, for sure. In our rambling plant passion we bought what we loved and we loved whatever little beauty caught our fancy on our many, many garden center junkets. Our gardens, packed with a hodgepodge of plants, wantonly violated the rules of good garden design.

It wasn’t until I heard Tony Avent speak at the Western Nursery and Landscape Association that I shook off my shame and proudly, defiantly, lifted my chin. Tony owns Plant Delights Nursery in Raleigh, NC, and confessed that he grows thousands of different plants at his home. And no two are the same. None. No plants in masses or odd-numbered drifts. Onesies everywhere. And he showed slides to prove it. Slides of a gorgeous garden.

“I admit it, I’m a plant collector,” he said. And then he said if we think plant collecting is bad, our whole value system is screwed up. “What gets people more excited than plants?” he asked. They grow bigger and more beautiful and you can divide them and share them with your friends. You can’t do that if you collect antiques, he says. Then he even trumped the old “you shouldn’t buy a plant unless you know where it’s gonna go” nag with a sharp, succinct, “What kinda crap is that?”

Aaah. Now that’s my kinda guy. Let loose the “should” and “shouldn’t” gardening rules and have fun again. Like when I was a girl of seven in my favorite Bugs Bunny jeans planting marigolds. (Before I learned that growing marigolds is taboo or amateurish or just not done.) Back to when I planted my first Clematis and delighted in every leafy tendril, every bud and, as they opened, every bloom.

Whoever made up the rules needs to learn to love gardening again. And the rest of us need to learn to follow our passion and forget the restrictive rules for gardening. I’m thrilled that I have the audacity to say this with pride: “My name is Amy, and I’m a plant collector.”

Oooh, that awful dry air in winter!

Houseplants and humidity

By Amy McDowell

When I was in charge of watering inside the dome at the Des Moines Botanical Center, I watered more than just the plants. I also soaked the concrete walls and pebbled paths. The plants, screaming for moisture, needed more than just a drink of water—they needed high humidity like the tropical rainforests of their origins.

During these cold winter months, the dry outside air is sucked into our furnaces, heated, and pumped through the heat vents throughout our homes. And just as we suffer with dehydration such as thirst, dry, itchy skin, tired, burning eyes and tender sinuses, our houseplants are suffering with dehydration that shows itself as curling leaves, dry brown leaf tips, yellow leaf margins, shriveling, wilting, bud drop and limp, weak growth.

The water that houseplants take up through their roots is used for growth, but much of the moisture is released, or transpired, through tiny holes in the stems and leaves called stomata. Winter air pumped through our furnaces is so dry that it rapidly taxes houseplants beyond their capacity. There are a number of things you can do to raise the humidity level and aid plants, and it doesn’t even require watering your walls and floors.

·        Humidifiers are the simplest and most effective method to raise humidity.

·        Group plants close together so they can benefit from each other’s transpired moisture.

·        Make pebble trays. Fill sturdy plant saucers with pebbles and water and place them around your houseplants. The pebbles create more surface area than just a dish of water so it will evaporate quickly.

·        Turn down the furnace. Plants will transpire less moisture if the furnace isn’t running as often. Also, keep plants away from heat vents and drafts.

·        If the kitchen or bathroom is bright enough, move plants there, where humidity is often higher than the rest of the house.

·        Misting plants is the least effective option. It is a short-term, temporary solution that must be repeated frequently throughout the day to even make a difference. In addition, water droplets on the leaves may lead to disease.

Aaahhh, those bloomin' indoor vines!

Blooming indoor vines

By Amy McDowell

The Linnaean House at the Missouri Botanic Garden is the most enthralling building I have ever set foot in. It is a brick-sided greenhouse built in 1916, proudly touted as the oldest continuously operating greenhouse this side of the Mississippi River. A brick path snakes through the center of the earth floor and plants on both sides of the path sink their roots directly into the ground. Vines clamor up the brick walls inside and outside the building. When the large wood-frame windows are left open in the summer, the scents of camellias and jasmine wisp in and out.

The earthen floor anchors plants and gives my soul an indoor soil connection far beyond potting soil in containers. Planting beds in the dome at the Des Moines Botanical Center are similar, but the scale of the Linnaean House creates an intimate, homey atmosphere. If only I could live in such a building.

I am left to recreate the divine environment on a pot-bound scale, but a handful of blooming vines cooperate with the conditions in my home. The following tender vines are some of the simplest. They require very bright light, like that in a southern- or eastern-facing window, and are content with average home temperatures and humidity. Most will bloom all winter with regular water, little fertilizer and an occasional trim. Spray to keep the bugs at bay. Once a month, use insecticidal soap or mix your own with a drop of dish soap and a teaspoon of rubbing alcohol in a 16-ounce spray bottle filled with water.

Black-Eyed Susan Vine (Thunbergia alata) originally bloomed golden with a dark eye. I grew it in that loud clashy color, but now they are available in tamer citrus colors, pink blush and pure white. The new colors look great beside the cool colors of Browalia (B. speciosa major) and trailing Lobelia (L. erinus). Browalia blooms with 1-inch blue stars all winter, and the Lobelia has dainty dark purple flowers.

Other vines that bloom indoors include smelly Lantana (L. montevidensis), ivy geranium (Pelargonium peltatum), red-and-white glory bower (Clerodendrum thomsoniae), finicky Fuschia (F. magellanica gracilis), delightfully fragrant snail vine (Phaseolus caracalla) and fan flower (Scaevola aemula).

Trees and Construction

Building your dream home on that wooded lot

By Amy McDowell

Wooded residential lots cost thousands more than treeless lots, but if those trees aren’t protected during construction, they can be severely damaged. Often the damage isn’t visible and the slow physiology of trees means they may live for four to seven years after construction crews have left the site, slowly spiraling into decline and finally death.

Soil compaction from heavy equipment and building materials is the most common damage. Ninety percent of a tree’s roots are within the top twelve inches of soil. Soil compaction may crush or tear the fine roots, but the loss of air space within the soil profile can be long lasting and even more devastating. Soil organisms can take decades to loosen compacted soils and return them to a healthy environment for tree roots.

The most important step to protecting the trees on your building lot is to ring them with a barrier that is not easily moved by construction crews. Metal stakes and bright orange snow fence works well. Place the barrier at least one foot from the base of the trunk for every inch of trunk diameter. For example, a tree with a two-foot diameter trunk must have a barrier at least 24 feet from the trunk.

Even after construction is complete, continue to guard the root zone. Don’t let a finish grader add or remove soil within the barrier zone. If you seed or sod the new lawn, use care not to drown the tree by irrigating too frequently. After the turf is established, water no more than once or twice a week.

A three-inch-deep mulch ring around the tree will protect the trunk from mower and string trimmer damage, and the wider the ring the better it is for the tree’s roots. Some arborists say a mulch ring that runs clear to the drip line of the branches would be a tree’s dream-come-true, although they realize that much mulch is unrealistic for most homeowners.

For large construction sites with complicated traffic patterns around trees, you might want to consult with an ISA certified arborist on how best to protect the trees. Information is available at www.isa-arbor.com or 800-ISA-TREE.

What Birds Want

Feeding our Feathered Friends

By Amy McDowell

When we moved my husband’s bedridden grandpa into a nursing home, we hung a bird feeder outside his window. Then each time family members visited him, they filled his feeder. His care center was in Polk City, and flocks of goldfinches visited the feeder every day.

He was unable to talk after suffering a stroke, but he would often point out the window at the feeder and smile tenderly. From his bed, he could see the TV and the bird feeder, and although watching TV passed the time, watching the birds obviously gave him great joy.

Grandpa is not the only one who enjoys feeding birds; more than 60 million people in the U.S. spend nearly a billion dollars a year on bird seed, and that figure does not include feeders or accessories like shepherd hooks and squirrel baffles.

What Birds Want

The most popular seed among birds is black oil sunflower seed, according to a 1980 report compiled by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. They watched 13 different kinds of birds choose seeds from specially-designed feeders and found that all of them, including goldfinches, cardinals, chickadees, mourning doves, purple finches, and tufted titmice, chose black oil sunflower seed above all other seeds. The black oil sunflower seeds beat out striped sunflower seeds, red and white millet, sunflower hearts, cracked corn, peanut hearts, safflower seed, and milo.

Suet is popular among insect-eating birds like woodpeckers, robins, and wrens. Store-bought suet cakes are inexpensive and simple to slip into cage-style feeders. Many people make their own suet cakes, and recipes abound online. Most recipes include fresh ground suet, peanut butter, cornmeal, and a mixture of nuts, raisins, and seeds.

The birds will appreciate fresh water. During the winter you can use a heated bird bath or insert a heater into the bowl of your bird bath to keep the water thawed. A cheaper idea is to dump the ice every day and fill the bird bath with warm water. Of course, this won’t work with a heavy concrete birdbath, and it won’t stay thawed for long, but the birds will appreciate your efforts.

The leanest time of year for birds is spring, because their natural food sources from the previous season are gone and plants are not setting seed or producing berries in the current season yet. The months of March through June are more crucial than the winter months.

Your Secret Garden

Planting for Privacy

By Amy McDowell

The garden is a place to get away from the world—to escape from everyone and everything. Shed that cloak of stress and step into nature’s embrace. Your deck or patio can be an intimate, private retreat. It doesn’t matter if your neighbors are delightful—you can engage them in conversation if you choose—but you must create a space in your garden that is isolated from the outside world.

Privacy fences are tremendously popular because they create a visual barrier that takes little space and little care. There are many wonderful plants you may use to create a softer barrier. Here are a few shrubs to help create privacy in your garden. They are just about as easy to install and maintain as a fence.

Emerald arborvitae (Thuja occidentalis ‘Emerald’) is a narrow, upright evergreen commonly used for screening. It creates an attractive deep green backdrop for other plantings—flowering perennials look stunning in front of arborvitae. Emerald arborvitae grows slowly, reaching twelve feet tall and four feet wide at maturity. Pruning is not necessary to keep them looking sharp. Some arborvitaes suffer winter burn that creates brown patches, but emerald arborvitae is hardy and durable.

Lilacs (Syringa vulgaris) form a terrific hedge as long as you have the space for them. The deliciously fragrant blooms will fill your garden in May. You can find lilacs that bloom in every shade of purple, pink, and lavender, and even white or pale yellow. The common lilac grows fifteen feet tall and about eight feet wide. The best way to prune a lilac is to cut out no more than one third of the oldest, woodiest branches close to the ground. This will encourage new suckers to sprout at the base, keeping the overall size reduced and the blooms within range of your nose, rather than above your head.

Viburnums come in many shapes and sizes. Arrowwood viburnum (Viburnum dentatum) is named for its arrow-straight upright branches, and Koreanspice viburnum (V. carlesii) is named for its fragrant blooms. Arrowwood viburnum will grow to eight feet tall and six feet wide, and Koreanspice viburnum will mature to about five feet high and wide. Viburnums have rich dark green foliage and are extremely hardy here in central Iowa. In addition to these two, there are many other excellent varieties to choose from; each with its own wonderful characteristics.

Your list of plant choices is blessedly long and diverse. If your deck is elevated, your site may call for a small tree or a cluster of them. Imagine your deck or patio embraced in privacy. Picture a lush green barrier in your mind. Your new plantings may not give you the instant privacy of a fence, but it won’t take long. Take a deep breath. Soon you will have that delightful, secluded pocket of heaven in your garden.

Perfection is an Illusion

No such thing as perfection in the garden

By Amy McDowell

Catalogs packed with photos of dreamy plants and immaculate gardens arrive in the mailbox every day, reminding me of the first time I ever ordered plants by mail. The photos, of course, were so beautiful I had trouble choosing what to order—I wanted it all. But when the plants arrived they were nothing like the lush and colorful catalog images I had daydreamed over for hours. I unwrapped clumps of roots packed in stringy peat and wet shredded newspaper and it was two years before the little plants began to resemble the catalog photos.

The flawless images in garden catalogs and magazines are just as misleading as the flawless models in fashion magazines. That kind of perfection is unachievable in the garden—at least if that’s what you expect every day of the season. The garden is ever changing: sometimes immature, sometimes overgrown and sometimes just a little rough around the edges. The moments of sheer garden glory are nestled somewhere in between.

Gardens, by their very nature, are supposed to be a little messy. We all know that the healthiest soils are those with bits of decaying plant matter strewn about. Outdoor fabrics do fade and fray, and the flat-tine pitchfork always ends up with one finger out of alignment. And even if the garden appears like a perfect Eden to visitors, the gardener can always name at least a half dozen flaws they plan to work on.

My garden is comfortable. I’ve spread shredded leaves over the beds again this fall and when I walked by one of the beds on a recent chilly evening, I noticed a leaf had tumbled from the bed onto the grass. I smiled and felt goofy about it. The disarray of decaying fall leaves sent a shiver of pride down my spine. My garden will never be perfect, but I love it for all its flaws. The joy is in the evolution of it and the insight that I glean from growing right along with it.

Amy McDowell is an Iowa Certified Nursery Professional. She has a degree in horticulture and has worked in the field for ten years. She lives and gardens in Polk County.

Where are the labels?

Show or no – your garden’s purpose

By Amy McDowell

I stepped forward to the railing and the garden that unfolded below me was one I had seen in a calendar photo some fifteen years earlier—the image so beautiful that I’d saved it and pinned it on my office wall for better than a decade. Vast fluid strokes of color washed through the valley below. It was the famous Sunken Garden at Butchart Gardens in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, and it took my breath away.

Wordlessly, I ascended into the garden like wandering through a dream world. The grating voice of some crotchety tourist behind me broke into my mind. “Where are the labels?” she complained loudly. “None of the plants have any labels on them!” In the wonder of it all, I couldn’t have cared less about plant labels. They were ordinary plants, after all; common, everyday annuals planted in spectacular sweeps of color.

Rounding a bend in the path, we came across a gardener planting mums. The grump pounced on him about plant labels. With a loose swing of his arms, the gardener flung his hands out, palms up, and said, “This is a show garden, not a botanical garden!”

That simple statement made clear the garden’s mission. No apologies, no question about it—Butchart and the gardeners on staff there know exactly what they want to create. And I have no doubt that their clear vision is how they do it so successfully.

So what about your garden? Do you have a clear idea of what you are trying to create? Of course, there is much to be said for tottering in the garden somewhat aimlessly, whiling away the time and loving every moment of it. But a mission statement for your garden is the one way to assure that you eventually achieve what you set out to do. Without one, you never actually “set out to do” anything.

Every garden has some purpose; it may be something simple like dressing up the home, producing edibles or for personal enjoyment, solace or healing. The mission may change over the years as your family grows or your lifestyle changes. With a mission statement, you won’t waste time, energy, money or even thought on plant labels when your garden’s purpose is for show.

Amy McDowell is an Iowa Certified Nursery Professional. She has a degree in horticulture and has worked in the field for ten years. She lives and gardens in Polk County.

Amaryllis

Showy and Vibrant Amaryllis

By Amy McDowell

My first amaryllis only bloomed once and then it died. Yes, I followed the directions. I tucked the bulb, pot and all, into a cool dark closet and left it there—too long. Oops. By the time I pulled it out of the closet, the bulb had shriveled up to a dry papery husk. It turned out the directions were poor and I had guessed wrong on a few of the important details. It was years before I grew amaryllis again, but I’m so happy I gave them another try. Here’s how to do it right so they will bloom year after year for you.

Potting Amaryllis

·         Amaryllis blooms are stunning, but buying three bulbs and planting them all in a wide, shallow pot is even more breathtaking.

·         Buy quality potting soil. It will work much better than that light, dusty peat mix that comes in amaryllis kits.

·         Place the bulb so that the top half is above the soil level. The bulb needs to have about an inch of space on all sides.

·         Water it well over the sink, and then set it in a warm location. If you set it on top of a warm appliance, like the refrigerator, the bottom heat will push it to flower more quickly. Don’t leave the pot on a bottom heat source for more than a week.

Care after Blooming

·         You can remove the blooms as they fade, but wait until the bloom stalk starts to whither and collapse before cutting it off.

·         The bulb will still have leaves, so treat it like a regular houseplant until spring.

·         In late May or early June, set the pot outdoors in a shady spot where you will remember to water it. You will have healthy green leaves all season, which are making energy for the next bloom cycle.

·         In late September, let the pot go a little drier, and then in early October, take it into a cool dark basement. You are pushing the bulb to go dormant and rest for about eight weeks. Don’t cut the leaves off until they have turned brown on their own. Little or no water is needed.

·         In early December, bring the pot out. You only need to repot the bulb if it is bursting out the sides of the pot. Water thoroughly, and the blooms are on their way again.

Amaryllis are available with single blooms, double blooms, and in miniature. They come in red, orange, pink, peach, blush, white, and bicolors. You can find amaryllis at the local garden center, or by contacting any of the following sources: Amaryllis Bulb Co. at 888/966-9866 or www.amaryllis.com; McClure & Zimmerman at 800/883-6998 or www.mzbulb.com; John Scheepers, Inc. at 860/567-0838 or www.JohnScheepers.com.

Amy McDowell is an Iowa Certified Nursery Professional. She has an associate’s degree in commercial horticulture and has worked in the field for ten years. She lives and gardens in Polk County.

 

Forcing Bulbs

Flowers for your winter windowsill

By Amy McDowell

Snowflakes are flying and the tulips I ordered last spring sit naked in the breezeway, huddled together in their mesh sack. Shame on me. They should’ve been tucked snugly in the ground a month ago. But I know I’m not the only one. During a potting soil expedition to the garden center two days ago, I saw crate upon crate of bulbs—and they weren’t even on clearance sale.

Now, with my huge 3-cubic-foot bag of potting soil, I’ll pot those leftover tulips, chill them and force them to bloom indoors this winter.

Tulips, Daffodils, Hyacinth, Crocus and Muscari are all great for forcing into bloom indoors. Their tender presence will usher spring into your home.

Any pot will do—potting can be as simple as placing one bulb in a disposable plastic party cup with decorative aquarium gravel for support and water to the bulb’s base. I’m not sure how tulips would fare in this environment; they seem to require potting with a little more dignity, but most Daffodils, Hyacinth and Crocus bloom easily when grown in a simple setup. Hyacinth and Crocus vases designed to suspend the bulbs above a water reservoir are another easy solution, and with extra bulbs stored in a paper bag in the fruit drawer of your refrigerator, you can pop a new bulb into the vase each time the bloom fades.

For potting, use quality lightweight potting soil. Press soil into the bottom of the pot, set the bulbs in snugly with the pointy side up and cover with soil. Vigorous bulb roots in containers will heave the soil, so leave the soil an inch below the rim of the pot. Cover the soil with decorative pebbles or moss if you wish. Then place the potted bulbs into a cold storage area. Temperatures between 35 and 48 degrees Fahrenheit are ideal. If you store them in a cold frame, unheated garage, attic, porch or breezeway, you’ll have to insulate them with several heavy blankets or a generous layer of mulch or straw. Allow a 15-week cold period for Tulips, Crocus and Muscari, 14 weeks for Daffodils and 12 weeks for Hyacinth.

Here’s hoping every one of those leftover bulbs at the garden center brings a scent of spring into someone’s home this winter.

Amy McDowell is an Iowa Certified Nursery Professional. She has a degree in horticulture and has worked in the field for ten years. She lives and gardens in Polk County.

Add a little curb appeal

Forays into the front yard

By Amy McDowell

The 100-foot tall honeylocust in my in-laws’ front yard was the tallest tree in their neighborhood. It had a trunk nearly 4 feet wide. It stood on the corner of their front yard and shaded their two-bedroom cottage for all of the 15 years they had lived there. Leafing out golden yellow in spring, it filled the sky with a light green canopy of dappled shade during the summer and showered the ground in the fall as tiny golden leaflets fluttered down like confetti. A wren house mounted on the side hosted a dainty couple and a new brood of hatchlings each season.

Then an October ice storm eight years ago brought the honeylocust crashing down in a shattered wreck of jagged wood and leaf litter.

Although devastated, my in-laws took little time to grieve. Ever anxious to keep a tidy yard, they sprang into action. They bagged leaves and twigs and piled branches on the curb for city yard waste pickup, hired one company to drop and haul off the decapitated trunk that had been left standing, and hired another company to grind out the stump.

While I was still mourning the loss of the tree, my mother-in-law was brushing the sawdust from her gloves and envisioning something new for her front yard. “I’d like to put in a new bed,” she said. “Something with a lot of color.” And off she went to the garden center. She returned with a tree, a half a dozen shrubs, some annuals, a concrete birdbath and a new wren house.

We hauled in three granite boulders and edged the two lower sides of the bed with stone pavers. My in-laws planted the ‘Autumn Sunset’ maple first, about five feet from where the honeylocust had stood. My mother-in-law hung the birdhouse on a high branch with the hope that her annual visitors would return to the strange new surroundings. Groupings of red pygmy barberries and golden privet fill the bed with color, and clusters of bright red annuals sing along the sidewalk. The wrens did return, and the birdbath drew crowds. My mother-in-law so enjoyed the activity through her kitchen window that she added a bird feeder.

Before their front yard venture, their neighborhood had nothing but garnish-around-the-turkey, home-hugging landscapes and driveway-to-driveway turf. My trendsetter in-laws were the first to break ground with an island bed in the front yard, but by the following spring, many neighbors were following suit and planting new front yard beds.

With this one bed, my in-laws added curb appeal, reduced their mowing and maintenance, attracted wildlife and began a new landscaping movement in their neighborhood. The loss of their immense shade tree ended up turning into something wonderful. “Yeah, it was pretty amazing,” says my mother-in-law.

Amy McDowell is an Iowa Certified Nursery Professional. She has a degree in horticulture and has worked in the field for ten years. She lives and gardens in Polk County.

Monster Spider in the Praire

Prairie Life

By Amy McDowell

My little brother and I saw the giant sinister spider at the same time, and our voices combined into one terrified, high-pitched squeal. Screaming nonstop, we raced through the prairie up the hill towards home, Mom, and safety. I was perhaps five, so Jeremy would’ve been four, and the tall prairie grasses towered several feet over our heads. The prairie was a labyrinth, but we knew home was up the hill.

We spewed, screaming, from the wild prairie onto our neatly mown lawn. Wide-eyed and breathless, we told Mom about the horrific spider. She was fascinated, and said she’d like to see it. Jeremy and I stared at her with our mouths hanging open. Surely, she was joking. Nope – she wanted to see the grotesque monster spider.

We agreed to go only after Mom promised that she would stay right by us. Reluctantly, we led her back into the prairie, seeking the spider. We looked and looked, but couldn’t find it. Our fears subsided and it became a challenge to find it, to prove to Mom how really scary it was.

Finally, we gave up and went back to the top of the hill. Mom returned to her laundry on the clothesline, and Jeremy and I stood on our tiptoes peering down the hill over the prairie. It was the next season before we had the guts to venture in by ourselves again.

My memories of the fear are distinct, but details of the spider’s appearance are long gone. Today I think the spider we saw was probably an orb weaver. The black and yellow argiope orb weavers have bold markings and perch in the center of their large flat webs. They can grow to be three inches from toe to, well, toe.

These days I see orb weavers in the summertime garden frequently, but my reaction to them has changed. I feel joyous, for I take them as a sign that my garden is environmentally healthy. I know they won’t harm me; they are predators of the insects in my garden. They are doing me a favor.

I have grown to love prairies and the fascinating hum of life within them. When I visit the 5,000-acre prairie at the Neal Smith National Wildlife Refuge near Prairie City, the sound of the wind through the tall grasses soothes me to the soul. It is so peaceful it takes my breath away.

Amy McDowell is an Iowa Certified Nursery Professional. She has an associate’s degree in commercial horticulture and has worked in the field for ten years. She lives and gardens in Polk County. 

Composting Leaves

Keep Your Leaves

By Amy McDowell

Asters, mums, and plump orange pumpkins are adorning our porches and perching on our steps.  There are corn stalks, straw bales, and gourds – evidence of a generous fall harvest.  It’s beginning to look a lot like autumn – everywhere you go.

This is a great time of year to begin that compost pile you’ve been thinking about.  Composting is simple, and it keeps valuable resources on your lot that you can never replace, no matter how much money you spend.

Healthy soil is loaded with organic matter – that is, decaying plant debris – and all kinds of microscopic organisms. One gram of healthy soil will have 37 billion bacteria and 4 million fungi, plus larger organisms like protozoa, paramesei, and nematodes. Healthy soil means healthy plants, whether they are flowers, shrubs, trees, or turf.

Composting can be as simple as raking your fall leaves into a pile and tossing a few shovels full of soil on top. The leaves will break down more quickly if you shred them first. There are several styles of inexpensive leaf shredders on the market, or you can shred the leaves by running over them with your bagging mower. Shredding the leaves is not necessary, but it is helpful and speeds up the composting process.

If you are wondering where to get the extra soil, consider digging a shallow pit for your leaves and leaving the excess soil around the edges to sprinkle over the top.

You can always till leaves directly into your garden or spread shredded leaves across the surface if you don’t want to make a compost pile. Whatever your method, the key is to keep your leaves, grass clippings, and all of your yard waste except sticks and branches.

Why is your yard waste such a valuable resource for your yard?  In the soil, bacteria and fungi break down plant debris into smaller and smaller pieces for microbes to feed on.  With no plant debris, there is no food source. The soil is unhealthy and barren. In the typical urban environment, the soil is starving because there is no organic matter. Chemical fertilizers are a temporary fix, and they cannot replace precious organic matter.

If you live in an area where the soil has been disturbed by new construction, rest assured that the soil can recover, but it may take decades. The more organic matter you can add to the soil, the more quickly the soil organisms can heal the damage.

As the trees are beginning to shed their leaves, now is a wonderful time to begin composting and recycling your yard’s priceless resources.

Amy McDowell is an Iowa Certified Nursery Professional. She has an associate’s degree in commercial horticulture and has worked in the field for ten years. She lives and gardens in Polk County. 

Spring-Blooming Bulbs

Spring blooms come to those who plant fall bulbs

By Amy McDowell

After tearing down the fall bulb display at the garden center where I once worked, we swept up two dozen miscellaneous bulbs from the floor. “You want those?” my boss asked, ready to pitch them from the dustpan into the garbage. Smiling, I gathered them into a paper bag and took them home. It was late in the season and the weather was chilly, but the ground was not yet frozen. I planted them in a small cluster where some annuals had collapsed after a frost. The ragamuffin group would bloom in a haphazard tapestry in the spring, I imagined, but better that they create a goofy patchwork of color in my garden than rot in a landfill.

In the spring, to my surprise and delight, that little cluster of leftover bulbs charmed both me and everyone else who visited my garden. Tiny purple and yellow crocus trumpeted spring from just four inches above the earth, followed by eight or ten daffodils in gold and white and a dozen crisp tulips in red, gold and purple. The sweet fragrance of purple and pink hyacinths could seduce me to visit the riotous hodgepodge bed from the moment I stepped outdoors.

You can’t go wrong with spring bulbs, it turns out. Springtime success will greet you whether it’s 7,000 bulbs in vast beds of color, as I once planted for an employer, or a handful of delicate bluish-purple Scilla siberica next to a path.

Daffodils are my favorite spring-flowering bulbs because they return loyally year after year. Pests won’t dig them up and eat them like they do with tasty tulips, so they multiply over the years, forming generous clumps where a single bulb was once planted. Among the thousands of varieties, you’ll find trumpets, large-cupped, small-cupped, doubles and split coronas. I went crazy for miniature daffodils for several years, growing every one I could find. The most darling, in my book, is 'Tete-a-Tete' for its bright little blooms and short stature. It blooms beautifully with the purple Crocus tommasinianus ‘Ruby Giant’.

I plant a couple dozen tulips each fall to please my husband, who loves them as much as I love daffodils. The peony-flowering varieties planted in the front yard are visible more than a block away.

Finally, I’ll plant a dozen bold orange ‘Treffer’ Asiatic lilies this fall because I’ve been crazy over the Asiatics all season. You won’t find a lot of orange in my garden, but I can surely find a spot for a vivid orange zing. Orange, after all, is the new black, according to my friend Katherine.

Plant some bulbs this fall; the time is right. Plant daffodils, tulips and lilies. Fill the nooks and crannies of your perennial borders with little cuties like Iris reticulata, Pushkinia, Scilla, Galanthus and Crocus. Bulbs are fun, foolproof and rewarding.

Amy McDowell is an Iowa Certified Nursery Professional. She has a degree in horticulture and has worked in the field for ten years. She lives and gardens in Polk County.

Fall Spectacular - Ornamental Grasses

Ornamental grasses for the masses

By Amy McDowell

Rippling gently in the breeze and shimmering in the sunshine, ornamental grasses enliven landscapes in late summer and fall. Grasses come in every size, shape and color, and the plethora of choices may overwhelm browsing shoppers at the garden center.

If you’ve got room in the garden for just a couple of grasses, plant a feather reed grass (Calamagrostis ‘Karl Foerster’) for its striking upright growth and compliment it with the rounded growth of a fountain grass (Pennisetum alopecuroides ‘Hameln’). Karl Foerster feather reed grass grows five feet tall and has dark burgundy seed heads in the summer that fade to beige in the fall. The mounded ‘Hameln’ fountain grass grows two feet tall and has pinkish-brown foxtail-like seed heads.

Regardless how much space you have in the garden, ornamental grasses soon get to be like so many new garden adventures—addictive. Soon you’ll want to experiment with the broad palette of different colors.

For white variegation, consider ribbon grass (Phalaris arundinacea), which tops out around two and a half feet. Striped feather reed grass (Calamagrostis x acutiflora ‘Overdam’) is roughly the same height with burgundy seed heads in the summer like ‘Karl Foerster’. Miscanthus sinensis ‘Variegatus’ has creamy white variegation and a rounded four-foot grass.

For yellow variegation, plant Alopecurus pratensis ‘Aureovariegatus’ or golden hakone grass (Hakonenchloa macra ‘Alboaurea’). Alopecurus grows upright to about one foot and has bright yellow variegation in the spring and red-brown foxtails. Golden hakone grass needs some shade, where the floppy golden grass looks terrific with blue hostas. It grows about 18 inches tall.

Everyone who grows annual purple fountain grass wishes it were a perennial, and the way plant hybridizers work, it won’t be long before we see it. In the meantime, the best red grass that will survive our winters is Japanese blood grass (Imperata cylindrica ‘Rubra’). It isn’t as striking as purple fountain grass, but its green leaves are streaked with blood red edges and tips.

Finally, ornamental grasses can add crisp blues to the garden. Blue fescues are the best known, but they require well-drained soil in order to survive our winters. Grasses are tough perennials and killing a blue fescue with heavy soil is aggravating. Panicum virgatum ‘Heavy Metal’ is a sharp blue-gray grass that grows to three feet. It has arching leaves and airy panicles of burgundy seed heads.

Don’t be afraid to dabble with ornamental grasses. Betcha can’t plant just one.

Amy McDowell is an Iowa Certified Nursery Professional. She has a degree in horticulture and has worked in the field for ten years. She lives and gardens in Polk County, Iowa, United States.

Trees are our Heroes

Super Trees to the Rescue! – Plant a tree for Arbor Day

By Amy McDowell

Crime fighters are standing sentinel over our homes, parks and gardens. But these heroes wear canopies of leaves and corky bark, not wind-cracking capes and spandex tights. It’s true: trees fight crime. Researchers at the Human – Environment Research Laboratory at the University of Illinois Urbana – Champaign have proven it.

When researchers Frances E. Kuo and William C. Sullivan began studying green space and crime statistics in central Chicago in the early 1990s, the Chicago Police Department (CPD) said they could predict the results. More landscaping equals higher crime, they said. Trees and shrubs can conceal perpetrators. Remove their cover and you’ll reduce crime, they predicted.

The CPD was wrong. In fact, the relationship between trees and crime was exactly the opposite: the presence of green space and trees around buildings reduced overall crime by 52 percent—that was 56 percent fewer violent crimes and 48 percent fewer property crimes during the 9 years of their exhaustive research project.

Trees apparently do much more for us than providing beauty, shade, shelter, wildlife habitat and resources like fruit, nuts, maple syrup and wood. In addition to increasing property values, converting carbon dioxide into oxygen and reducing storm water runoff, trees can dramatically reduce crime. So isn’t it time you plant one?

In Iowa, Arbor Day is the last Friday in April—that’s April 30 this year. However, many cities declare the following Saturday as their official Arbor Day to promote community celebrations and tree planting activities.

To plant a container or balled and burlapped (B & B) tree, first brush back the soil on the top of the tree’s root ball to find the first major roots. To get the planting depth correct, you’ve got to look for those roots because often when nursery trees are grown and prepared for sale, excess soil ends up on top of their roots. Because of this, trees are frequently planted too deep and they not only fail to thrive, but they often die. The planting hole should be just deep enough to place these roots at ground level.

Dig the planting hole at least twice the width of the root ball. If the soil is clay or compacted, three to five times the width of the root ball is better. Another option in heavy soil is to dig four or five trenches that radiate five feet out from the planting hole like spokes of a wheel. Fill the trenches with compost.

Set the tree into the hole. For B & B, remove the twine and as much burlap from the root ball as you can. Fill in the hole with the same soil you dug out, adding some compost if you wish.
Mulch with 2 to 4 inches of an organic mulch like wood chips, keeping it at least and inch or two away from the trunk. Water thoroughly and check the soil weekly through the first season. If it is dry, water it.

If you stake the tree, leave the supports on for no longer than six months. University research has proven that tree canopies need to sway in the wind in order to promote far-reaching anchoring root systems. Use canvas or burlap strips to tie the trees to stakes and check for girdling (strangulation of the trunk) every month until the supports come off.

This Arbor Day, invite a super hero to come live in your garden.

Amy McDowell is an Iowa Certified Nursery Professional. She has a degree in horticulture and has worked in the field for ten years. She lives and gardens in Polk County, Iowa.