Queen Matrona

September, in the Flint Hills, is the time that sedums become the stars of the garden, or at least they become the stars of my garden.  In my "add no extra water" garden, sedums are a great group of plants to propagate again and again throughout the garden, tying it together and allowing you to fulfill that "repeat theme" fundamental of good garden design.

'Matrona', pre-bloom, mid-summer

My favorite sedum, and one I'd recommend for every garden, is  'Matrona', full of gray-green foliate,  dark red stems and pink flowers.  This one is a four season performer for me;  tall, strong and disease free through Summer, colorful in Autumn,  a copper-brown support for snow in Winter, and then with the cutest little purple buds in early Spring as I clean off the beds. I've copied 'Matrona' over and over in my garden, and just this year I started a hedge of it on the southeast edge of my newest rose bed.  I'm hoping the 10 or 12 clumps planted there will make a nice and neat, if tall, border to its rose backdrop next year.  The entire 20 foot line cost me just one clump from my front garden, divided a dozen ways with a shovel early this Spring. 

The foliage of 'Matrona' always acts as a foil for its neighbors, either through the fleshy, thick character of the leaves or by color contrast with the purple-blue-green color of the leaves and red stems.  Look at it at the upper right, planted alone as an accent among green shrubs and daylilies, or as pictured to the left, in the garden and in full pink flower in front of 'Wine and Roses' Weigela and between Blue Lyme Grass (Elymus arenarius) and 'Emerald Gaiety' Euonymus.  Isn't she just the center of attention?

'Matrona' was a 1991 selection from Germany, and she received recognition as the "Perennial of the Millennium' from Europe in the year 2000 and also received the Royal Horticultural Society 2006 Award of Garden Merit.  The name comes from the German word "matrone", which means "lady of well-rounded form", so just in case your spouse spends a lot of time on the Internet, I'd suggest that all the male gardeners reading this resist any temptation to compare their wives to the beauties of 'Matrona.'  In the Netherlands she is known as 'hemelsleutels', which supposedly translates as "keys to heaven", so perhaps we should refer to this sedum by that name. 'Matrona' grows trouble free to about 2 feet tall in my garden in a nice compact clump, and she gets no extra water or care.  The one mistake to avoid with 'Matrona' is NEVER overfertilize a mature clump.  Fertilization with high levels of nitrogen just causes her to grow lanky and sprawl over her neighbors, a little too voluptuous for her own good.  If she is in extremely rich soil, it often helps to give her a little beheading in late June, to keep her compact, and I sometimes use peony supports on the bigger clumps so that the Kansas wind doesn't flatten her out.  Mainly, just keep her in full sun and leave her parched and 'Matrona' will be a star in your September garden.

What Took You So Long?

Helianthus 'Lemon Yellow'

All summer I've been anxiously awaiting signs of life from a pair of related plants that I planted last Fall.  Seduced last year by the high prose and beautiful photography of High Country Gardens into purchasing  and planting a pair of Helianthus maximilliana cultivars, I watched anxiously in Spring for the return of their foliage.  When they finally came up, planted as they were in my "native" wildflower area, which gets no extra water at all, I then spent the summer worrying that my single specimen of each would be cut down by some dastardly grasshopper, broken over by a rampaging dog, or that they just wouldn't make it through the heat and drought of this past summer.  But all summer, they grew, slowly and, to me, in an agonizing fashion, but they did grow, to their current four feet or so in height.  I was tempted several times to provide them a little extra water, but I'm proud to say that I practiced tough love gardening.

I expected them to bloom in late July or early August, but they never did.   I think that was all my mistake, assuming wrongly that most flowering plants stop developing buds here by October except for the asters and an occasional rose that tries to open in December. Recently however, as the leaves on decidious trees are changing color, the burning bush euonymous is already aflame, and the nights are approaching the low 40's, I noticed buds on both.  Buds which recently broke open for me like a heaven-sent promise that Summer will return next year.  

Helianthus 'Sante Fe'

My two Helianthus maximiliana  cultivars are ‘Lemon Yellow’  (pictured above right with its insect stowaway) and 'Sante Fe' (pictured at left).  'Lemon Yellow' is supposedly the daintier of the two, said to grow into a mature clump three feet by three feet, although vegatively, I still can't tell my two cultivars apart and both are at four feet tall with single stems at present.  High Country Gardens states that 'Lemon Yellow' "grows easily in hot, full sun locations."  Based on my experience with it this summer, I might not agree that it grows "easily," but it did survive the worse drought year I've seen here.

Maximillian Sunflower 'Santa Fe' should eventually grow to be an 8 foot tall and 4 foot wide clump, a warning to me that I've got it planted in the wrong place at present, but if it continues to survive, I can always divide and move it.  It blooms with large golden-yellow flowers as pictured, and the flowers seem to open from top to bottom on the single stem that I've got at present.  According to the High Country Gardens website, it is hardy to Zone 4 and should grow well in "any soil including heavy clay."  I can only hope that broad statement includes my limey-stony-clay soil.

Given time and a few years, I hope that both H. maximiliana clumps eventually become mainstays in the tall backs of my borders, fighting it out with the Miscanthus sp. to see who drapes over whom.  With the late bloom, however, I'm a little worried that an early frost might occasionally allow me only to enjoy the foliage however. This is my first attempt with this genus, although I've long grown a similarly tall False Sunflower, or Heliopsis helianthoides, which grows well for me and which I've divided several times over in my peony bed.  Now with the new Maximilian Sunflowers looking to make a stand, I guess I'd better prepare to have a much more yellow Fall garden than I've had in the past.  The only question is, do I want that much yellow?  Even in Kansas, one can overdo the sunflowers.

Anonymous Aster

As I'm somewhat of a scientific mindset, I take some pride in being able to identify most of the plants in my garden and the surrounding prairie on sight, and each its proper (albeit often mispronounced) Latin name. So it is doubly frustrating to me when I forget to write down the position and name of a new plant.  Furthermore it is triply frustrating when the new plant turns out to be a keeper.

I'm quite chagrined, therefore, with this new very double white Aster-like thing that popped up in the very front line of my front border the past couple of weeks.  This was a small green blob most of the summer, growing slightly over time and requiring absolutely no care, and then recently, it stood up and shouted for my immediate attention with the extremely profuse bloom. 

At about 18 inches in height and width, it is undoubtedly well-placed in its site, prominently displayed now in fall in front of the  taller, and now spent, peonies, sedums, and various shrubs that make up the majority of this border.  But what, pray tell, is the variety?  I have grown a number of asters over the years but they are all blues and pinks, no whites ever, and most of them survive a year or two and then dwindle in a harsh winter or summer.  I have absolutely no recollection of planting this one, although it is obvious that I agonized over the site and potential size of the plant, and I evidently neglected to note down the pertinent information in a timely fashion.  My best guess is that this was a $6.00 gallon pot, grown by the KSU Horticulture students as a fundraiser, that I bought on a whim about this time last year while I was walking to the 2010 State EMG Continuing Education meeting.  If that is where I obtained it, I guess it stands as a good demonstration of the judgement of the Hort. students, but not so much as an example of the diligence of the gardener in recording his world.

Regardless of my consternation, my Anonymous Aster is a pretty little thing, isn't it?  Perhaps in this instance, I should let Beauty be a reward in itself, and not care so much about the name.

Final (Touch) Daylily

'Final Touch' daylily

Whew!  One of my favorite daylilies, dual clumps that lie next to either side of my front steps, had not bloomed at all this year and I had given them up as bad drought actors until yesterday.  Daylilies, however, are as dependable as the sun in Kansas and finally these late actors both bloomed, taking center stage as my landscape begins to take on Fall tones.

This is 'Final Touch', a late-blooming daylily as one would expect from its name, but I never expected it to start blooming quite THIS late.  This beautiful diploid has 4 inch soft bicolored pink and cream flowers with a green throat and it is quite fragrant.  It is classified as winter dormant, but of course that means nothing to gardeners in Kansas since every daylily is dormant here.

'Final Touch' belongs to a group of daylilies labeled as "Trophytakers®."  I had never heard the term before, and my Gogglefoo powers must be weak today, because I still can't definitively find out what organization or individual is behind it.  The original website for the group seems to be down.  From hints here and there, I think these may be selections by famed daylily breeder Darrell Apps of Woodside nursery;  not all are his daylilies, but I believe he was the evaluator of all of them.   I was able to find out that it is a group of 50 outstanding daylilies that must all bloom for a minimum of 42 days, more than double the average daylily.  I can't find what climate they are supposed to bloom for 42 days in, but if Mr. Apps selected them all, it must have been in Kentucky.  Certainly, any daylily that starts to bloom in Kansas in late August may not have 42 days left until first frost.  Trophytaker® daylilies must be vigorous growers and hardy to Zone 5.  They must be "beautiful" (however that may have been determined), the foliage must remain attractive till late in the season, and they must be insect and disease resistant.  I don't know why I've never heard the term, because I grow a number of the other Trophytaker® daylilies; 'Barbara Mitchell', Red Rum', and 'Joylene Nichole', among others.

Regardless, I view 'Final Touch' as a fitting end to my daylily season. If there has to be a rear end to the long string of daylilies, at least it's a beautiful rear end.

The Biggest Disappointments

Sometimes it doesn't pay to get your hopes up, does it?  As my own example for tomorrow's inaugural "Thirteenth Tribulations" blog party, I'll give you a look at a plant that I had the most tremendous hopes for.  Early this spring, the yellow-foliaged plant pictured at the right popped up in one of my beds and I couldn't remember planting anything like it for the life of me.  I was able to identify it later from my plant maps as Coreopsis tripteris ‘Lightning Flash’ (introduced in 2007), which I had planted in 2009 but don't remember seeing at all in 2010.  All spring and early summer it grew up, keeping the delicious yellow foliage until a few weeks ago.  The picture is from April 27th, but the clump eventually got over 3 feet tall and kept that yellow hue to the foliage, a fine counterpart to the bluish Panicum it was planted near. 

Well, at least it kept the yellow hue until it got ready to bloom.  At about the 3 foot height, this beautiful plant turned a nondiscript green and disappeared into the border. I was still hoping for a spectacular bloom from it, but alas, the pretty yellow flowers, pictured up close at the left as they began to bloom last week, are lost from a distance as you can see below to the right.

Talk about your letdowns. None of the published descriptions of  'Lightning Flash' that I could find suggested that it would have a disappointing bloom, although the Kemper Center website suggested that it is "perhaps better known for its foliage than for its yellow flowers."  The plant IS drought tolerant and needed no extra water in full sun, so I'm not going to throw it out of the border, but it has left me wanting.  I'm hoping that all those buds that remain open simultaneously to give me one last, large peep show.  I never expected such an exhibitionist plant would turn so shy as it flowered. 

Daylilies Still

Hemerocallis 'Chorus Line'

I note that my earliest post about daylilies blooming this year is on June 23rd, but here, over 8 weeks later, a number of daylilies are still bravely holding on even after one of the hottest July's on record.  And I'm not just talking about 'Stella de Oro' or 'Happy Returns', either.  Despite the heat, the colors seem to be more vibrant than ever.  Now, I give you 'Chorus Line', a 1981 diploid, in brighter and more refined color than any of the thirty or so pictures of it I found on the web:

Hemerocallis 'Old Barnyard Rooster'

Tetraploid 'Old Barnyard Rooster', a red self, is holding up well and bright as the dickens.

Hemerocallis 'Dream Legacy'

Tetraploid rebloomer 'Dream Legacy' bloomed throughout the season, but seems to have lost most of its purple edging to the heat.

Hemeroclalis 'Frans Hal'

And then, of course there are the oranges.  Old standby 'Frans Hal', introduced in 1955, is a late bloomer that performs well despite the browning foliage supporting it, as does the unnamed orange daylily below.

And, proving once again that you don't need to know your name to be both beautiful and tough, this lovely lavender in my front bed is numbered "7", but I have no idea what its name is today.  Gorgeous, though, isn't it?   

Honoring Hollyhocks

I went to bed last night to the sight and sound of lightning and thunder from a storm 30 miles to the west.  We didn't get any rain from it. I awoke this morning at 5:45 a.m. to the same western lightning and thunder and hurried outside to put some inorganic fertilizer (I know...so sue me) on a few new pet roses. And then I ran into town to fertilize the K-State Rose Garden.  All the time wondering when the lightning, now easily within my horizon, was going to stop me in my tracks.  I had to worry about the lightning, but I needn't have worried about getting rain.  We didn't get rain. The radar showed it raining on us but nothing was reaching the ground;  I guess it was boiling off  in the early morning heat.  The storms just fizzled out in the face of the  104F temp predicted today.  It is going to be a long week of  plus-100 temperatures in the garden.

While I was at the KSU garden this morning, in between dodging the lightning, I had to admire the wisdom of a real gardener, one with a degree in horticulture to add to his experience, who planted the small island bed in the center of the parking lot.  It is filled with hollyhocks and flanked by low airy grasses on the edges. There is no water to this bed (pictured at right) other than the meager July rains and what can be hand-carried to it, but here it is, happy and healthy and the hollyhocks beginning to bloom.  The bloom above is a closeup of one of those single hollyhock blooms, beautiful in its simplicity, intricate in its color shading.  And the grasses around the bed are framing it well, transitioning to the taller hollyhocks.

A variation on that theme was a corner bed in the same parking area, pictured at left, daylilies planted at the feet of the hollyhocks and taller grasses to the fenceline, but no less water-wise or harder to maintain then the island bed pictured above.  I believe there are a number of lessons to take to heart here;  1) Choose the plant for the site.  2) The plants our grandmothers grew still have a lot going for them.  3) Step outside normal landscaping plants and practices when you can. 4) Visit your local botanical garden or University garden or the garden of a professional as often as you can because they are full of ideas.  5) Get a degree in horticulture if you really want to garden...because I'm quite impressed at the brilliance of this hollyhock plan and I would probably have never thought about it, amateur that I am.

Pet Daylily

In the midst of Garden Blogger's Bloom Day at May Dreams Garden, I will add a photo of my favorite daylily, 'Beautiful Edgings'.

At first glance, 'Beautiful Edgings' is just another cream daylily, but a closeup look at this one will reveal its beauty;  ruffled edges blushing pink, a diamond-glittered surface, and a perfect large blossom.  'Beautiful Edgings' is a diploid, released by Copenhaver in 1989. And awards?  You name it and 'Beautiful Edgings' has won it; Honorable Mention, 1999; Award of Merit, 2002; President's Cup, 2002; Lenington Award, 2006.   Although the Award of Merit is the most prestigious listed here, I would highlight the Lenington Award which is given to daylilies that grow well over a wide geographic area. 

I grow 'Beautiful Edgings' in a prominent spot right at the "edge" of my front walkway and I wait for her bloom every year to tell me the daylily season has hit the half-way mark.  Sometimes, when the air is not so hot around her, the colors in the blossom are more vibrant, but I'll take what I can get in this July heat.  'Beautiful Edgings' reblooms and is semi-evergreen, if you live in a zone where you care about the growth habit.  I don't because all daylilies are dormants in Kansas for all intents and purposes.

Revenant Returnings

Our vocabulary word for the day is "revenant," a new word (at least to me) that is defined in the Free Online Dictionary as:  1) One that returns after a lengthy absence, and 2) One who returns after death.

Buddleia 'Black Knight'

I discovered the term in a search to describe what had occurred when my truant 'Black Knight' butterfly bush (Buddleia davidii 'Black Knight') suddenly popped up this year again after skipping out last year entirely.  I've seen a similar circumstance or two where a plant barely hangs on for a year or more and then seems to regather its energy and burst forth, but I've never seen one just disappear for a year and then regrow.  At least I think it was missing last year and believe me, I searched.  It is in a spot surrounded by early peonies and late goldenrods, and although I looked several times for it last summer, the last time I saw this bush was in 2009.  Given the drought at the end of last year, I had given up on this handsome little bush entirely, but a few days ago it bloomed again, confirming the strength and the vitality of the life force within.  I know that the Butterfly Bush can reseed and it is actually considered invasive in some regions, but I've never had one reseed before in Kansas and this plant is in the same exact spot as the original.

In Kansas, Buddleia seem to be hit-and-miss perennials.  They usually die back in winter nearly to the ground and regrow each summer.  I've grown a number of cultivars, but although some seem to hang around for a few years, eventually most of them have succumbed to the combination of my lack of special care and the Flint Hills environment.  I've grown the diminutive 'Petite Purple' twice in two different spots and both times it has not made it into the 4th year.  I was fond of light blue and very fragrant 'Lochinch' and had high hopes for it since it thrived for 6 years in one spot, but then it died during a seemingly mild winter.  The current 'Black Knight' is my second.   Pretty yellow 'Honeycomb' didn't even make it to her third year, nor did 'Nanho Blue' or 'Pink Delight'.  The only consistently hardy Buddleia that I have grown is 'White Profusion', a large-flowered pure white variety that reaches approximately 6 feet tall each season.  'White Profusion' has survived now 10 years in the same spot in my landscaping, so I think I can recommend this one for Flint Hills gardeners without reservation.  Butterflies flock around it in late July and August and I love the delicate perfume as I walk by it.

If you'd like to see a pseudo-miracle of resurrection in action, then come over and see my 'Black Knight'.  I'm hoping it decides to hang around a few years this time because I'm really not that fond of ghosts or guests who appear and disappear without warning.

Daylily Beginnings

Amethyst Art

 Entranced by the beautiful daylilies from Sherry's blog in Florida, I've been anxiously awaiting the start of the main daylily season here.  I have a love-hate relationship with daylilies here in Kansas, but since they're the only reliable blooming thing in the July heat and require little care, I grow a lot of them.  In fact, I probably grow more daylilies than roses, but since daylilies are all orange, I don't know as many of them by name.

Now don't get uppity, you daylily connoisseurs, I understand that there are near whites, purples, spiders, almost reds, corals, and pink daylilies.  At least if you look at them closely.  Just sayin'.

  

LeeBea Orange Crush

The first of my daylilies have begun to bloom here, so I thought I'd pop some pictures of them up before the main stream hits and I get overwhelmed.  First lining up for pictures is  'Amethyst Art', pictured above, a double lavender-toned daylily I've had for most of forever.

And then there's the spectacle that 'Leebea Orange Crush', a big fragrant orange daylily, makes of itself:

I developed a thing for "spiders" in the past couple of years, so I have a number of them, among which are several plants of 'Crazy Pierre', deep purple 'Frankies Fantasy', and the enormous (9 inch diameter) ruby-toned Stout Medal winner  'All American Chief'.



Crazy Pierre



  

Frankies Fantasy









All American Chief

Seductor

'Seductor' is a Red self with big six inch blooms that I really do adore:

  

Irish Spring

And 'Irish Spring' is a very large, fragrant bright yellow with a slight green tinge that really lights up the garden:

Siloam Double Classic

I grow a number of the Siloam-bred line of daylilies.  'Siloam Double Classic' is a daylily that does well no matter where I divide it up and put it in the garden.

But there are a number of eyed, medium-sized daylilies that I suspect are of the Siloam lines, but I've lost the names:

Unknown Siloam

Unknown, perhaps 'Wild Mustang'?

  

Summer Dragon

And I grow a few really wild-looking varieties:  Visitors who view 'Summer Dragon' either love it or hate it; there seems to be no middle ground.  Heck, I'm not even sure where I stand on it.

I'll keep the daylily pictures coming as they come on, at least the varieties I can still identify and the exceptionally beautiful ones.  Stay tuned. 







Charlie Brown's Daylilies

I think just about everyone is aware of the iconic cultural image in the Peanut's cartoon strip where Charlie Brown cannot resist trying to kick the football held by Lucy, who pulls it away from him every time.  From now on, when you think of Charlie Brown with footballs, think of me with daylilies.

'Lady Betty Fritz'

 I am well aware that most daylilies are some shade of orange, despite what we want them to be.  Years ago, I read and took to heart the excellent summary of daylily colors by Cassandra Danz in Mrs. Greenthumbs, where she translates daylily color terminology for neophytes from "melon," "peach," and "deep red" to "orange", "light orange", and "looks like orange from a few feet away" respectively.  I don't really mind orange daylilies.  And I do believe that the red daylilies are starting to really look red, and there are some excellent purple daylilies out there, even though they do not stand out well in a dark green border in the garden. But, unlike the 200+ roses in my garden and numerous irises that I can identify on sight, there are very few daylilies I can differentiate.  The whites all look alike, the purples look similar, and I have no hope for the apricot-melon-oranges.

Yet, I cannot resist some naive impulse that allows me to believe the fantastically colored pictures on daylily plant tags.  Yesterday, Hemerocallis 'Lady Betty Fritz', pictured at the upper right, bloomed for the first time in my garden..   Although admittedly it is a first bloom on a small plant, it bears little resemblance to the fantastic coloring on the plant tag, as reproduced to the left, nor to pictures one the web.  Nor to the description on the back of the tag; "flowers ivory with a red eye and double-red gold edge above a green throat."  Now, I don't know about you, but I would call the eye "maroon" or "deep purple-rust", not "red."  And the "double red-gold" edge is barely present.  And there is no ivory that I can see.  I purchased this one at a reputable nursery, so I don't think it is merely mislabeled.  And I don't think that I've misplaced the plant;  it is one of only three new daylilies I've planted this year.  The bloom size WAS very large.  But I can only conclude that daylily describers are all just imaginative Lucy's.

I've been taken in again and again, long enough that I suppose I'm beyond hope for learning the lesson.  At least the local annual Hemerocallis Society sale, where I buy most of my daylilies at cut-rate prices, throws the fans on tables labeled "orange", "yellow" and "pink", and so I'm less likely to be disappointed.  I just need to stay away from catalogues and fanciful plant tags.  Perhaps a local Daylilies Anonymous would be helpful.  Anyone else care to join?

Charming Combinations

I've long been convinced that the best reason for anyone to take photographs of their own gardens is that it allows each gardener to look at the garden through the eyes of another.  My grumbling over weeds and overgrown edging and thrips and blackspot often go away under the camera's lens.  And I'm left occasionally believing I've accidentally done something right.

Last night, the plant combinations were I noticed the most through my viewfinder, some of which were planned and others that were happenstance from squeezing in one new plant next to another.  As a planned combination, I've always liked the juxtaposition of the 'Red Prince' Weigela, the white 'Sir Thomas Lipton' rose, and the yellow-foliaged 'Golden Spirit' smoke tree (Cotinus coggygria ‘Ancot’) at the end of this bed:

And I think I did okay with the 'Globemaster' Allium in front of shrub rose 'Carefree Sunshine':

I also like both of my accidental combinations of the dark iris in front of orange, red and white rose 'Betty Boop' (right) or next to bright red Papaver bracteatum (below).  Either, at peak bloom, are to die for, don't you think? 

Not everything always works.  The Salix integra ‘Hakuro Nishiki' to the right doesn't really contrast off the 'Emerald Gaiety' Euonymus in front if it (it was a replacement for a failed coralberry).  It will look better, I promise, in a week when the light pink English rose 'Heritage' blooms to the left of it.  The gardener keeps trying.....

Floral Turkeys

Peony 'Shirley Temple'

As filler, my local newspaper this week picked up an article on peonies written by Adrian Higgins from The Washington Post, originally titled "Best Peonies for the D.C. area".  It was, of course, retitled here in Manhattan, Kansas since the editors knew I wouldn't care which peony is best for D.C.  Higgins started out his discussion of peony gardening and new peony varieties with the most delightful statements:  "Before any of us were born, plant breeders looked at the Chinese peony and decided that if a variety had many petals, its offspring would look much better with far more....Gardener's describe these gluttonous flowers as fully double.  They're the floral equivalent of turkeys so meaty they can't fly."



I had to chuckle, because truer words were never written.  "Floral equivalent of turkeys so meaty they can't fly," Ha, Ha, Hah.  Mr. Higgins was referring at that point to the peony varieties that we all know, love, and think of as "real" peonies; the ubiquitous 'Sarah Bernhardt', 'Festiva Maxima', 'Felix Crousse', and 'Karl Rosenfield' that seem to be the major offerings at the big box stores and in those little bags of eyed-roots stored in wood shavings near the checkout counters.  It was a rant about how the large very, very double flowers of these peonies take forever to open and stand on such weak stems that they topple over with the first decent rain.  Higgins went on to say that "Gardeners who try to fix a rain-splayed peony bush may as well try to repackage a newly unwrapped dress shirt," provoking yet another giggle from me.  Mr. Higgins then introduces the unknowing reader to Tree peonies and Intersectional peonies and I have no arguments with his comments about the values of either of those advancements in breeding.

But, the main peony season is beginning here in Manhattan, and my first floral turkey, Paeonia lactiflora 'Shirley Temple,' has opened as you can see from the delicious picture above and she was followed quickly by 'Festiva Maxima'.   'Shirley Temple', introduced in 1948, often has a little more blush to the petals, but she's almost entirely creamy in this cold Spring. 'Festiva Maxima', of course, is an ancient and classic peony known to every gardener who aspires to grow peonies.  In deference to Mr. Higgins, I enjoy the easy maintenance and large blossoms and fragrance of  both these varieties and all their cousins in my garden.  I control their floppiness with peony supports placed early during growth and by planting them close enough together that the inner peonies don't have room to flop.  Yes, I have some newer single peonies and one Intersectional peony that seems to be doing well, and a Tree peony that just survived the Kansas winds for the first winter.  But I'll never stop loving or growing the turkeys.

I wasn't aware of Adrian Higgins before, since the "Post" isn't a common newspaper for viewing in Kansas, but after looking over a few of his articles, I'm going to be reading more.  Several of the articles I've already browsed contain just the right amount of cynical sarcasm to match the late Henry Mitchell, one of my favorite garden writers.  As an example, an article on Sarah Palin's fence was just perfect, and another gem, comparing the modern rose to "a matinee idol with too many demands and chemical dependencies" was just the ticket to tickle my fancy. Catching up on his many articles, though, is going to cut into my blogging for awhile.