Super Hollyhocks!

My in-laws lifted their house and put a basement underneath in 2006. As a result of the construction, all of the gardens around the foundations had to go. Anticipating a garden make-over, the majority of the plants were taken to the compost/dump. (seems so sacrilegious....)

Anyway, on a subsequent trip to said dump, my husband (Luke) and I happened to see two or three hollyhocks standing tall in full bloom among the piles of discarded yard waste, as if to say "You can't get rid of us that easily!" Knowing my mother-in-law wanted hollyhocks for her Victorian / English garden, we came back with black plastic pots and shovels. The base and root ball (yes, root ball) was quite big so they were growing at the dump for at least a year. They barely fit in our largest pot, a #15, I think.

The garden where the hollyhocks were to be wasn't quite ready for plants, so we plopped the pot in a spot where it would be out of the way of the final construction touch-ups until we could plant them before winter. Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men.... The hollyhocks remained in that out-of-the-way spot, toughing out our Minnesota winter in a pot above ground...and in spring I was amazed to find new growth. They had survived. That summer (2007) turned out to be their dormant year so no flowers but lots of leafy and rooty growth.

June 13, 2010 - Me in the hollyhocks. I'm 5'6".

2007 came and went, and so did many other projects that claimed priority over the hollyhocks. In 2008 it was time to transplant them to their final home. We dragged the #15 pot to the other end of the house and properly planted them. That year they had a small flower show - the flower stalks weren't much higher than three feet. .

That year we started seeing some plants springing up in that out-of-the-way spot where the pot had been. Baby hollyhocks! We allowed them to grow where they were, treating the area as an unofficial nursery. 2009 came, the babies got taller and added more leaves. The original plant, uh, plants, also grew taller and added many more leaves. Again its dormant year, it looked more like a hollyhock bush.

Enter 2010. This year we began revamping the gardens along the sidewalk and one of the projects was to transplant the baby hollyhocks to the garden with the original hollyhock. The babies had sent up the first flowers stalks of their young lives.
Note: It is not a good idea to transplant hollyhocks while in bloom, nor is it a good idea to bare root said hollyhocks during the transplanting process. Ours survived, but barely. Fall is a better time for transplanting hollyhocks.

June 13, 2010 - Almost 7' tall

The big hollyhock pulled out all the stops this year. The foliage was almost three feet tall by the end of May and had at least 24 flower stalks that were 4 1/2 tall and covered with buds. June came and the stalks kept growing...5 1/2 feet tall ....6 feet.... the tallest stalk actually grew 6 inches in one night - no lie!.... the first color peeked out at 6 1/2 feet... 7 feet....

June 13, 2010 - 6' 8 1/2" tall

July 1, 2010 - Over 8' tall

When Luke and I returned from a three week vacation, we came back to a giant hollyhock over 8 feet tall in full pink and white blooming glory. Luke is 6'4" and he can't reach the top of the flower stalks!





July waned into August and its intense heat and humidity. The majority of the flowers have long since faded away and are now setting seed, but there are a few late bloomers that are pleasant to see.

August 11, 2010 - 10' 2" tall

Today, I measured the tallest flower stalk at 10 feet 2 inches tall.

August 11, 2010

I know hollyhocks are tall, but is this normal?!

Plants on the Hill

This week we mulched our hill. It's actually my in-law's house. Three years ago they lifted the house and stuck a basement underneath. The front hill was cut through during the process. Since it was a horrible (and dangerous) thing to mow, we decided to plant it with prairie-like plants. This is their third year on the hill and it's looking great. We leave everything up during winter and cut it back in spring. We've discovered which plants self-seed and which do not. As a result we have many new freebies! Always a bonus. The randomness of where the new plants grow adds to the prairie look. Here are the descriptions of our hill plants.

Achillea millefolium 'Paprika' (Paprika Yarrow) Very tough little plant. It is very free-form and would be considered scruffy or unruly anywhere but a prairie setting. Bright orange-red flowers

that don't stay as long as I hoped. This is one we've allowed to

self-seed to fill in the gaps. The Achillea is very happy to oblige. And it grows fast, too. The original plants have more than doubled in width since we planted them. Very good for soil stabilization and erosion control. Very drought and "crappy soil" tolerant. Just wish they bloomed longer.

Echinacea purpurea 'Magnus' and Echinacea purpurea alba 'White Swan' (Magnus Purple Coneflower and White Swan Coneflower) When we first planted the coneflower we quickly saw evidence of Aster Yellows* - on all the plants. Greatly dismayed, we pulled up the worst ones, which left many gaps. We allowed the remainder to self-seed. The following year many baby coneflower dotted the hill. Now, in the third year, we have healthy patches of coneflower with minimal Aster Yellows sightings. As you can guess in the photo, a Magnus seedling grew up through a White Swan ....or is it the other way around? The stems of the coneflower are incredibly stiff and strong; I caught the tines of a garden rake under a flower head - the flower didn't pop off nor did the stem break. These characteristics make Echinacea a perfect choice for our very windy and exposed hill.

*Aster Yellows is a virus that causes bizarre distortions in the flowers, sometimes preventing the petals from expanding, and the foliage to turn a funny yellowish color. It is spread by leaf hoppers and is untreatable. Infected plants aid in spreading the disease and will become worse in ensuing years. UPDATE: For photos of Aster Yellows click here.

Juniperus sabina 'Monna' (Calgary Carpet Juniper) The only true shrub on the hill. Very tough plant that laughs at the terrible soil. A little slow in growing, but has grown noticeably this year. As suggested by the 'Carpet' in the name, this variety of Juniper grows out instead of up. The evergreen nature offers a nice visual rest from all the color and billowiness of the perennials. We have some situated near the top of the hill; they don't look quite right there so we're considering moving to the lower parts of the hill. Not really looking forward to that job....

Perovskia atriplicifolia (Russian Sage) Wonderfully silvery-purple and billowy. It is the largest plant chosen for the hill. Although a marginal Zone 4, it withstands Minnesota winters quite well - and the hill is exposed to the harsh winter winds. I think the secret is to have adequate snow cover. By leaving the plants standing during winter they act as a snow fence, preventing the snow

from blowing away and, therefore, providing the necessary snow cover. I do cut them back by 1/2 - 1/3 every fall. In spring I inevitably have to remove more so it actually ends up being 1/4 height. But it never ceases to grow up to its 4-foot height each year. In the three years it's been on the hill only one has died. Unexpected bonus - readily self-seeds! Yay for free plants!

Rudbeckia sp (Black-Eyed Susan) Today I was surprised to find a rogue Rudbeckia in the Echinacea. "What are you doing here?" I asked, because I really do talk to plants! I'm actually quite delighted he decided to join us on the hill; his yellow flowers will be little spotlights scattered among the lavender-purple and silver blue. Having similar traits to Echinacea, they are also well-suited to our hill. They begin blooming about 2 weeks after the Echinacea and continue about a month after the Echinacea has gone to seed. A great way to keep the color coming!

Schizachyrium scopulorum (Little Bluestem) I have had more people ask me to identify "that grass" than any other plant on the hill combined. As the name suggests, the blades are a delightful blue-green. Very vertical presence. In fall the blades turn a striking red-purple - which is when I get the inquisitive passers-by. In October the flower plumes open a delightful silver. They're not as showy as a Miscanthus (Feather Reed Grass), but the effect of silver above purple is lovely. As winter approaches, the blades turn a buff color with a hint of orange. We leave them up all winter. Sure, they get flattened by heavy snow, but they bounce back up in spring. We actually use the grass as our winter weather vane and wind sock. Since the trees have no leaves it isn't immediately clear if it's windy. Then we look at the grass. If the bitter wind is blowing them around, we know it's better for us to stay inside.

Plants on the Move?

Today was one of those days when I absolutely love my job and can't picture myself doing anything else. Approximately 80*, low dew point / humidity, bright blue sky, and a pleasant breeze just strong enough to keep the mosquitoes at bay - weather so vastly different from yesterday (96* air temp + 70% humidity = 103* heat index, so humid clothes are drenched in 15 minutes, air so thick you felt like you are moving in slow motion) it feels like we've fast-forwarded to October!

It was my Deephaven clients' day for garden maintenance. As a preface, their property is surrounded by woods. As I walked around the house I startled a doe who went bounding off, but not too far. A little further down the path I startled her fawn. Actually, I think we startled each other because he didn't run away. I stood stock-still and he looked at me with his big black eyes as if to say, "Hey, I've never seen something like you before! What kind of animal are you? You look sort of friendly." He actually took two or three steps closer to me! We were about 15 feet apart, and there we stood. He was so cute and spotted! I decided to press my luck and slowly reached down for my camera, which was close by. But just as I began to move, the fawn bounded away. This meant I would be spraying Liquid Fence today. yippie.

My project today was to dig back the Astilbe that had over-grown a flagstone path leading from the driveway down the hill into the back yard. Since I leave the flower stalks up during winter, the Astilbe has self-seeded very freely and very well. When the seedlings were small, they didn't pose a problem along the path. But after two years, they started to gain size, over-taking the path and all but hiding it from view and making it difficult to navigate - even for me. Today was the day. I dug and I pried and I scraped and, finally, lo! behold a path! No more gingerly high-stepping to avoid damaging a plant, no more foliage pulling at pant legs, no more flower stalks slapping arms. The path is now visible from the driveway and once again beckons a garden wanderer to come explore.

As for the plants I pulled up, I had Astilbe coming out of my ears! I didn't realize so many had grown! Thankfully, I had many wonderful places that had been plantless for too long and they welcomed the little Astilbe gratefully. That is what I love about gardening - finding plants that sprang up on their own, usually under other plants where they would be crowded, not get enough light, and grow into a funny shape; and then relocating them to a place in the garden where they can have all the space they need, where they can be seen and appreciated; and create a new garden in the process - for free!

I love how gardens always change - I wouldn't have much of a job if they didn't!

Holy giant geranium, Batman!

Today we traveled from Granada to Nerja on the Mediterranean coast. Along the way I noticed all the plants on the roadsides and in courtyards.
Lots of vines. Bougainvillea covered entire walls and so thick with purple flowers that no green could be seen. Jasmine crawling it's way up and across stucco walls, filling the air with it's delightfully sweet perfume. Plumbago flopping over the top of a wall in a cloud of blue.
And all the plants are huge! Not just the height, but the leaves, flowers, everything. Lantana is as big as a dogwood and is used for hedges! Oleander is a large shrub, grows wild and is planted on roadsides like sumac.
And the wild geranium. Yes, wild. A patch of it was on the shore between the sidewalk and the rocks. I did a double-take. The leaves were as big as a maple's, had trunks 4 inches wide, and were as tall as me. I saw it and I still don't believe it.
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Oranges aplenty

Spain has the best orange juice. Every morning we watch our waitress put two orange halves in a huge stainless steel orange press and viola! Fresh orange juice!

But I started to wonder at how much it would cost the cafe owners; how many oranges do they go through in a day? How can they afford it? Then I saw that the oranges were much larger and juicier than the ones back home. One orange made enough juice for a large glass. What makes these oranges different?

Because orange trees line the streets. They are everywhere and used as ornamental trees. Ripe fruit falls to the ground and lays there. It seems like such a waste, but orange trees are as common as crabapples.

The cafes can afford mass quantities of oranges because they can go out the door and pick them. The fruit is larger and juicier because they are allowed to ripen on the tree. We, on the other hand, need our oranges shipped to us. Those oranges are most likely picked green and are therefore smaller, less juicy, and artificially ripened.

I plan to enjoy as much Spanish orange juice as I can drink.

If only we could find such a wonderful use for all our crabapples....
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