The First Signs of Spring: Mud

Spring arrives in South Turkey Creek on the bottom of my family's boots. Long before I see my Spanish bluebells, I see mud.

“Mud is spring and spring is mud,” I so vividly remember my grandfather saying—a Haywood County man who never missed a gardening season in his 70-plus years. A glance at my kitchen floor reveals the timelessness of his observation. Spring is right around the corner, and my floor is proof of it.

These days, “Take off your boots!” has become as much a cry of anticipation as of annoyance for me. I wonder why the teen doesn’t use the handy garden bench—but then I remember that it’s buried under garden catalogs, backpacks and muddy soccer shoes.

Another clear sign of spring's soon arrival is the plant clutter. I’m sure I am the only mother that keeps the science projects. The latest one is growing in the sole remaining free spot in the house: a corner of the kitchen counter.

Squash plants? I kept repeating to myself. I am keeping the squash plants?

I can already picture myself come mid-August, tossing squash over the garden fence into the creek. By that time, I'll be sick of them, yet here I am refusing to toss the project into the compost pile.

Adding insanity to clutter, I wasn’t content to keep only the test group—the ones grown under “continual light.” I kept the control group, too—the ones that saw light for maybe 15 minutes a day. These poor, deprived plants are now drooping so far down over their Styrofoam cups that the cat jumps up at them and bats them around.

And then there are the hydrangeas, which reside in my office. There are two of these shrubs, parked right in front of the French doors. My bird feeders are on that porch, and every time I go to feed the birds, I have to slide these huge—and I do mean huge—plants around on the carpet, revealing the water stains beneath, and scoot my way past.

I bought the hydrangeas three springs ago and still can’t decide where to put them. They do well in pots on the back porch, though, and that’s exactly where they’ll be again when spring arrives.

Spring may bring mud, but it also brings space. All winter long, my house is home to porch plants, seedlings and houseplants. Add a teen, a dog and two cats, and it gets a little crowded. Spring beckons, and I’m dying for all these plants and seedlings to be released to my yard, where I can better tend to them. I look forward, too, our natural migration outdoors as the weather warms.

Still, desperate for some other sign of spring, I walk outside to look for my glory-of-the-snow (Chionodoxa luciliae)—beautiful small, blue flowers that are the first blooms in my garden. One year, I got carried away and planted 500 of them. But I’m forever grateful to my much younger self’s extreme behavior in the garden: They cover the perennial bed in a mass of blue, pushing up through leaves and twigs that haven’t been swept yet. The sight makes me want to weep for the sheer joy of spring—and of course, as I walk back inside, I forget to remove my own shoes.

But I’m so eager for spring that I’ll accept this annual mud-track through my house as the stamp of the season. It’s my first whiff of lilacs—that first paused moment out-of-doors—and my reminder to start looking soon for the bloodroot in the mountains around me and the crocus in my yard.

After all, behind the mud lies the spring.

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Yard Art, Part One!

A few (just a few) pics of some fav yard art....

Champagne Stand with platter for bird bath

Bowling Ball = Gazing Ball


Turn Right at the Fork (hehe)


A Close-up of the Fork, done by John Payne


And here's a few more of my favs

Trailer Park Gardening

For some, trailers are a blight on our mountains. When I was a city planner, I attended copious meetings to eradicate trailers, or at least clean them up with underpinning and decks. Often it was my job to go to visit the trailer and recommend (read require) that the owner move it to a less-offensive site or make it a “permanent dwelling” by installing underpinning. There's something about the transitory aspect of a trailer that's unsettling to some. They're not concerned about pipes freezing — it seems to be purely aesthetic. Or, perhaps they fear gypsies?

I don’t know why some folks dislike them, but here’s what I do know about trailers: They're often permanent dwellings. An obvious sign? When the owners plant gardens.

I’m not talking elaborate, Biltmore-esque lay-outs here. For many trailers, a pot of begonias sits besides the steps. Alberta Spruces seem popular, clustered around the foundation, and peonies and butterfly bushes are a certainty.

One of my favorite single-wide trailers has two gorgeous crepe myrtles that bloom full of deep red bloomsd. In my rounds of trailer parks and trailers, I’ve also seen golden chain trees, scarlet oaks, sugar maples, hibiscus in so many colors, Japanese maples and large vegetable gardens

It’s been almost 20 years since I worked as a planner. It’s been almost 20 years since the hostility toward trailers brought them to my notice and I began a hobby of photographing their gardens. My pictures were my silent acknowledgement of their right to be considered a home, just as the 5,000-square-foot rock foundation house across the street had the right to call itself a home.

I am asked a lot, “What is your favorite garden?” My answer is always the same — and always unexpected — “I love trailer-park gardens.”

Out of all the gardens I see, I appreciate them the most, because to my eyes, they come with the most care. These are simple gardens designed to bring beauty to a small place called home, a word that connotes permanence.

But permanent is not necessarily good anymore, is it? Permanent and carbon footprints go together. So perhaps my favorite garden homes are coming into their own?

My friend, Robin Smith, an environmental scientist, wrote this to me:
“Manufactured housing is actually one of the more 'green' options out there, based on the amount of raw materials required to achieve each square foot of living space. No matter how much reclaimed barn wood and bamboo flooring you install, a brand-new, 5,000-square-foot house is not green, unless there are 10 people living there.

Even then, building new is problematic; increased energy efficiency in the house's operation must be measured against the energy and environmental impact of obtaining and manufacturing new materials and delivering them to the job site. This is not to say that we shouldn't build “green”, just that there is a whole lot more to the equation than most people realize.”

It’s a simple concept. To Smith’s way of thinking, trailers have about as much space as any of us need in order to live. A single-wide is roughly 700-800 square feet, and a double-wide is, well, double that.

One of my favorite trailer gardens is currently thriving. I drive by it every day. Right now, the peonies are pink and white and stunning, and the rhododendrons are red and glorious. I am looking forward to the butterfly bushes, phlox, liles of a thousand sorts and colors, iris and dahlias I know are to come. I literally have the place memorized. The trailer, that non-permanent dwelling, is long gone. Nothing was ever put in its place.

The elderly couple who lived there all their married life died, and all that remains of their home is its lovely garden. The carbon footprint has vanished — recycled by the family elsewhere — but the flowers and trees remain.

Columbines Galore!

I got carried away last year and propagated a ton of columbine, now so glad I did!

Gardening Isn't for Sissies

This one was written for WNC Magazine's on-line content. It's for all you hard-core exercising weekend warriors, you've got nothing on us gardeners. Read, and hang your heads in shame and defeat.

Gardening Isn’t for Sissies
Usher in spring with gardening tips from a grower
who’s learned from her mistakes

written by Cinthia Milner


Garden season is here, and though it may be the number one hobby in America, it isn’t for sissies. How would I know? This season marks my 20th anniversary of taking up this sometimes brutal, but highly rewarding, backyard pastime. So, while I'm not a pro, who better to give you tips on surviving your garden than a woman obsessed with her own, and with the bruises, bumps, scrapes, and yes, an empty pocketbook, to prove it?

Tip #1: Wear long sleeves, pants, a hat, and gloves. And, even though that grass feels great between your toes, closed-toe shoes are a must.

Here’s why: My first garden inspiration began with a pile of rocks and a newly cleared bank (the former spot of said rocks). With a sigh of contentment and the determination of a novice, I envisioned a cottage garden—a sea of delphiniums, foxgloves, daisies, and peonies—on that slope, bordered by my rocks. I began with no forethought or knowledge, wearing shorts, flip-flops, and a tank top. I didn’t own gardening gloves, and I don’t look good in hats.

Halfway through the project weariness set in, and I dropped one of the very large rocks on my pedicured toes. Hobbling indoors to find the Neosporin, I noticed I’d acquired a severe case of sunburn. I was scorched with a busted, swollen foot and no toenails, which brings me to tip two.

Tip #2: Curb your enthusiasm. Take breaks in the shade, drink lots of water, and periodically slather on the sunscreen.

Next came my trip to the nursery—not easy with a busted foot and still-stinging sunburn. Before leaving the house I perused a gardening book, which instructed me to have a plan prior to setting off (I did not). It said I needed an outline for the garden (That seemed tedious). It said to know my soil type (I did, it was red clay). Lastly, learn my cold hardiness zone (Wouldn’t the nursery know that?). I mean, come on, let’s go shopping.

Returning home, my car was overflowing and my wallet empty. And once I got it all planted, what I anticipated as my lush cottage garden was, well, a sparse sight. There were numerous casualties. But don’t despair; abundance comes, just not overnight. Here’s tip three for encouragement.

Tip #3: Apply the “Cinthia 1/3 Rule.” Purchase three plants, all perfect for your spot, because one will die, one will barely survive, and one will thrive. Plan on it.

So it turns out my bank was 150 feet by 50 feet. Yeah, surprised me, too. But I realized the size when I started pulling up weeds. My Japanese knife, a handy tool capable of cutting down small trees and digging precise holes for bulbs, was very helpful, except when I lost it under a pile of weeds. A neighbor witnessing this sad scenario gave me a basket and roll of tape. This leads me to lesson four.

Tip #4: Put the weeds in the basket as you weed and tie red flagging tape on tools to make them easy to spot.

Sick of weeding, I wised up and bought mulch. The dark decaying organic matter highlighted my garden of blues and swaying pinks beautifully. Getting to gaze upon its perfection was only marred by the sudden itching sensation. Mulch is a harbinger of many good things, and a few unwanted; I’m talking about poison ivy. So while this next tip may seem obvious, I find it the most valuable.

Tip #5: Place a soap dish and towel holder beside the outside water spigot so you can wash your hands, arms, and neck several times a day. And before you crack open that end-of-the-gardening-day beverage, shower like you mean it. Good, old-fashioned soap does wonders for washing away the dirt, poison ivy, and who knows what else.

Now, when your ultra-marathon running or cross-country bicycling friends rib you about your homegrown activities, remember this: They have no idea the dangers we face, and, yes, the intense physical workouts we gardeners endure right in our own backyards.

Gardens are Beautiful, No Matter the Size

Spring has been all wonky and weird. 80 degrees one day, and 45 the next. Last year, I planted 1500 spring bulbs and progagated lots of columbine, and all those wonderful flowers couldn't tell what the heck to do. Still, a garden is rarely an ugly thing; it somehow turns out amazing, no matter the losses. I personally believe it's because it doesn't take much to dazzle or memorize us in a garden. Whether it's a small front yard with a few hanging ferns and a begonia or the Biltmore House--it's all the same to our eye, and our psyches. So, while most of those bulbs didn't survive the freakishly cold winter, the December to March snow, or the nerve-wracking spring, the garden is still showing signs of wonder. Check it out.

Enjoy!

Cold Hardy Camellias

April Tryst

Cold-hardy Caellias
April 4, 2011

Related topics: www.bbbarns.com camellias

If you’ve ever pined for camellias well, pine no more. New cultivars have arrived in Western North Carolina and they are tough, cold resistant and dazzling.

Local nursery BB Barns held a seminar one recent Saturday, and I went to check it out. I associate camellias with warmer climes in the Deep South, where it blooms in late winter. But the flowering tree is an Asian native that’s related to the tea plant (C. sinensis), and there are cold-hardy varieties, I learned at the seminar. With names like April Tryst, Pink Icicle, Snow Flurry and Carolina Moonmist, my desire to plant this winter-blooming was well whetted. All total, 60 varieties of camellias have been identified that tolerate the zone 6 mountain climate here in the Asheville area.

To ensure the greatest success, follow these cultural instructions.

When to plant: Camellias should be planted by mid-June to establish good roots while soil is still warm.

Location: Protect from wind and place in filtered bright light. Afternoon sun is preferred over morning sun, avoiding direct, hot sun. Note: deep shade will not produce blooms.

Planting Instructions: Camellias need excellent drainage, add small gravel to the soil if needed for better aeration (do not add peat moss). Similar to rhododendrons, they need to be planted a little higher, pot height or more and plant 6” on both sides of pot.

Fertilization: Camellias like acid, so try Holly tone to improve acid levels and stop fertilizing in late June to allow plants to harden off prior to winter.

Winter care: Wilt proof is recommended for first year plants to avoid dessciation, and in winters when severe weather is expected.
Finally, these camellias are good for Asheville proper, which is zone 6, and 2,400 ft in elevation. Planting them above 2,600 ft in elevation is not recommended.

To find out more visit BB Barns or go to http://www.bbbarnes.com.