Singular Fleetation

ProfessorRoush was nonchalantly driving through Manhattan Thursday when, near downtown, I passed this tremendous, floriferous display of Hibiscus on a street corner.   My first thought was "Oh, how beautiful!"   My second was "Oh how unusual!"  And my third thought was "There's a message here that I've got to blog about." 

I was instantly captivated by the bravery of the unknown designer; instead of landscaping the corner for four-season structure and color with, for example, a common and unexciting planting of purple barberry, gold-tipped or blue-hued evergreens, and glaring yellow 'Stella de Oro' daylilies, some audacious landscaper or gardener had chosen to make this corner eye-catching for only a brief seasonal moment, for the relatively brief bloom period of this magnificent blushing Hibiscus.   Indeed, given the 95ºF heat and searing sun of this mid-July day, this could conceivably have been the peak hour of this grouping in the entire year, the blooms wilted beyond recovery shortly thereafter.  

These cheery Hibiscus were blatantly placed to flirt with the passing traffic, the horticultural equivalent of sticking a shapely, sheer-stockinged leg out to catch the driver's eye, sultry Sirens luring unwary road warriors off the pavement.  And I was not immune to their allure, braking to grab an iPhone photo, and then circling the block for another, and yet another, risking a collision and not caring, lost in wonderment.

Unusual.  Singular. Fleeting. Flirting.  I hereby dub this and similar displays to be "Fleetations";  fleeting flirtations intended to enthrall passing foot and automobile traffic.   "Fleetation," defined as "short-lived coquetry intended to capture attention." And there it is, my legacy for the world, a new English term perfectly fitting the moment and this display. "Fleetation".

My point is this:  instead of a conventional and ultimately unremarkable landscaping choice, the bold visionary responsible here chose to trade mediocrity and longevity for exceptionality and temporality; to replace apathy and artlessness with passion and perfection.  By doing so, the artist is rebelling against "modern" landscape norms and, why not?  The real purpose of space decoration is to prompt joy, invoke happiness, and display beauty, and all those goals were clearly accomplished here.   It may not be "four-season interest", but it did serve its purpose and it both drew my attention and elicited my admiration.  I tip my hat to thee, unknown genius, and I vow to explore the unique and unorthodox in my own garden; to create a world there more pleasing to me and less encumbered by what others think it should be.

Thistle Excite You

'Kaveri'

ProfessorRoush would have a more witty and winsome post this morning, but the evening stroll last night with Bella left him speechless at the beauty.  We had a brief rain this morning and, little as it was, the flowers were all the happier because of it.   We needed the rain; even the buffalograss was about ready to call it quits.  Besides, I'm tired from swinging steel (I'll explain at the bottom).  Now I'll shut up and let you enjoy:









This 'Kaveri' lily, an Oriental-Asiatic cross I've had in the garden for 5 years.  She's tough, about 3 foot tall, and blooms her head off.   I've got several clumps and comes back year after year.  She just started to bloom, a little later than the Asiatics, a little earlier than the Oriental and Orientpet lilies. 

'Spider Man' daylily

And here, the first bloom of a new daylily for me, Hemerocallis 'Spider Man'.  This Award of Merit winner has 7 inch blooms of the brightest, most soul-quenching red you would ever want in your garden.  I'm pleased this spider-type daylily has joined mine.













These perennial sweet peas have never climbed and covered this makeshift trellis as I envisioned for them, but they bloom a nice happy shade of pink in the down season between the first bloom of the roses and the blitzkrieg of the daylilies.












I didn't plan this combination of daylily and 'Tiger Eye's sumac, but the momma sumac seven feet away suckered over next to the daylily and embraced it.  This is one of those fortuitous moments in a gardener's life that won't ever repeat, because next year this baby sumac will be too big to allow it to stay here.











Another great combination provided by the wiles of fate, this grouping of orange Asclepias tuberosa, yellow-orange Black-Eyed Susan, and the young blood-red Hollyhock all self-seeded themselves to this spot; two natives and a cultivated garden escapee.  The only thing I planted in this picture was the low-growing yellow barberry, 'Gold Nugget' which has been there for years.

Wavy-Leaf thistle

So, why am I tired?  Well, that's the fault of Mrs. ProfessorRoush.  No stop it, that's not what I mean.  Yesterday, she photographed this Wavy-Leaf Thistle, Cirsium undulatum (at least that's what I think it is), and she posted it on Facebook.  I'd been eyeing the thistles in the surrounding pasture, knowing that they were close but hoping they would wait a week to start blooming.  But no, this one had to start early, and Mrs. ProfessorRoush had to post it on Facebook right away, thus providing photographic evidence for the county authorities that I was allowing a noxious weed to populate the prairie.  I discovered late in the day that she had literally forced my hand and so I spent an hour last night swinging a machete and chopping off thistles, in the wet grass no less.  Thistles are one flower I just can't tolerate proliferating in my prairie, any more than I can abide a wife serving as an unwitting spy for the county.