Daylily Delirum

'Raspberry Eclipse'

Okay, ProfessorRoush tried to be cute here, but the blogging program just wouldn't allow me to format the text below with the pictures.  I couldn't even get the font of "Wisteria" to show up right.  Sometimes, the correct formatting just isn't worth the time it takes.  I gave up after spending hours of wasted effort.

But I was trying to let you know I just can't stop taking pictures of daylilies this year!   Click on any picture to enlarge!

'Rocket Man'

'Timbercreek Ace'

'Redmon SDLG 08-25'

'Storm Shelter'

'Wisteria'

Unknown

'Laura Harwood'

'Sonic Analogue'

'Swallow Tail Kite'

'Bestseller'

'Beautiful Edging'

'Alabama Jubilee'

'Awfully Flashy'

(Raspberry Eclipse is my newest daylily.  I purchased it ready to bloom this week and it was the most pot-bound plant I've ever seen.)

 ('Rocket Man' was a dazzling red surprise to me and quickly became a favorite.  It's not large, but it has a striking presence, orange-red to a burnt red eye.)

('Timbercreek Ace' is a consistent performer for me, full of flowers and a treasured gift from a client.)

('Redmon SDLG 08-25' is the designation I think goes to this one, from a local breeder.  I have a weakness for spider daylilies.)

('Storm Shelter' has a fabulous coloration with the petal edges matching the darker eye.)

(Isn't 'Wisteria' just subtly gorgeous?

(I don't know what this one is but it's planted next to 'Laura Harwood' and makes a striking contrast of form and complimentary color palette with her. A happy accident.)

(It's easy to stop and stare at 'Laura Harwood'; fetching lass, she is.)

('Sonic Analogue' is uniquely marked, right?) 

('Swallow Tail Kite' takes my breath away with her lavender eye.)

('Bestseller' is a daylily I lost after planting and then found again when it bloomed because of its unique coloring.)

('Beautiful Edging' is, to me, the most beautiful of all on the right day in the right lighting.)

('Alabama Jubilee' is quite a striking bit of orange, eh?)

(A fitting end picture,'Awfully Flashy' is just that, isn't it?)

Hubris, Weather, and Climate

ProfessorRoush and his lovely wife, Mrs. ProfessorRoush, were in a Topeka restaurant Saturday evening around 4:15 p.m. when the wind-caused whipping undulations of the umbrellas outside the nearby window captured my attention.  Something about their flapping pattern and my years of prairie-honed instincts said "storm", even though the sky out the window was light blue and cloudless.    

I did not recall any forecast chance of rain at all and a quick check of the Manhattan weather on our iPhones, 50 miles west of where we sat, showed no chances of precipitation for the evening, but I was still uneasy and a further look at the regional radar showed a thin squall line of strong storms west of Manhattan and bearing down.  Quickly estimating the speed of advance and distances involved, we paid our food bill and hastened to the Jeep, in which we proceeded, sometimes slightly above the speed limits, to head with all due haste for home.  

A nail-biting and knuckle-white drive commenced.  I glanced repeatedly from radar to road as the western sky darkened in the direction I was driving and the increasing winds rocked the Jeep.  And I'm happy to shorten your suspense and report that we beat the storm, pulling into our driveway just as large drops began to pummel the windshield.  The only one of us, Jeep, driver, or passenger, to suffer the storm was Mrs. ProfessorRoush, who got a quick drenching as she quickly took Bella out to potty before some light hail commenced.

That was it for the time being, 30 minutes of storm and then calmer winds and skies and clear radar from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m.   During the night, though, a repeated series of storms formed directly to our west and periodic rain and thunderstorms crossed over us heading to the northeast throughout the night.  All that time, the weather apps forecast a lack of precipitation or else, while it was raining, the rain ending soon.  The last rain was still falling as I ate breakfast at 7 a.m.     

I relate all this not to gain any admiration for my prediction prowess and impressive weather intuition (I self-admired enough at the time), nor to rant again about the constant surprises of Kansas weather, but merely to point out, despite all the advances of modern science, that experts still can't accurately forecast weather an hour ahead, let alone a day, a week, or a hundred years into the future.  My head is not in the sand and I don't deny the possibility of climate change, but it's a much longer stretch for me to take on faith 100-year or even next-year forecasts when weather forecasters repeatedly fail on the next hour's weather.   

I understand satellite maps and El Niña and El Niño cycles and receding glaciers as well or better than the average educated person, but it takes only a season in Kansas to expose the audacity of anyone who thinks they have all the variables of climate accounted for, the solar cycles and the CO2 levels and the effects of increasing expanses of pavement and population bombs and pandemics.  Millions of predictions can be instantly dispatched by the next unpredicted volcanic eruption which can alternatively either throw up enough dust to shade the planet or expel enough CO2 to shame the entire output of the industrial revolution.  

I swear I am not prone to jumping onto every conspiracy.   In fact, I'm not quick to jump on any wagon at all until I'm certain the axles will hold.  Too many old, rickety, hay wagons have been under my butt in my past life as a farm boy to not remember the bruises.  My words today will not please some of my readers, but I'm bone-tired of experts who can't say "I don't know."   Whether it's COVID spacing or climate change or the dangers of avian influenza, human hubris holds us back from the real truth.  Those in authority should learn to say these important words and mean them; "I don't know, but we'll keep looking."  It's okay to admit uncertainty and we can all handle the truth better than adamant speculations that are ultimately wrong.   And even dangerous. 

 I believe in science, the real science where you can freely question anything and seek truth through experimentation and gain knowledge through experience.  But I'll believe the climate and weather predictions when they can beat the marrow-held instincts of the dirt- and wind-sniffing farm boy.

(Some may be asking, what does all this have to do with the daylilies pictured here?   And the answer is: "Nothing.  They are just pretty pictures to keep you calm and happy."  Which makes me just one more person who can't say "I don't know. but it seemed like a good explanation at the time.")  

Rant over....now back to your regular programming.  I hope, as someone just told me, you could hear the smile in my voice" while I ranted. 

What's Wrong With Dark?

'TimberCreek Ace'

ProfessorRoush is gravely disappointed in both mankind in general and in the thousands of electronic engineers who design our modern appliances and circuits and he has a question.   Why, oh why, does every thing that plugs into a wall need to shine at night?  I mean, quoting our aged President, "Cmon man!"  Is mankind, long established as the primary predator on the planet, still that afraid of the dark?   I know the light-emitting diode (LED) was a near-miraculous invention and it puts out a lot of light compared to its electricity use (9 times more efficient than an incandescent light source), but does everything have to have one?   Efficient or not, they still use electricity.   And they're plain irritating when they're just randomly stuck onto electronics.

'Black Stockings'

I woke up early and wandered on a still-pitch-dark night into my living room and kitchen this morning (the rooms are roughly contiguous) only to realize that I could quite clearly navigate by the indicator LED that turns on when the TV is off (of all the stupid ideas), by the two LEDs on the wifi extender, by LEDs on two kitchen safety sockets (if I wanted to know if they were powered, I COULD plug something into them), and by the clocks on the microwave, double oven, and an undercabinet radio.  Of yeah, and by the lighted panel on the refrigerator (lest I not know which button makes ice or water) and from the "Clean" notification on the dishwasher (Mrs. ProfessorRoush had run a load).  

'Night Embers'

A similar problem exists in our master bedroom, where each of three surge protectors have LEDs to assure me that everything is okay (one glows from both a switch and a blue light by the USB connections), the satellite cable system has a small red light to let me know it is OFF (it has both a white and blue one when it's ON), and a bedtable alarm clock glows orange.   This is in addition to the fact that opaque blinds are insufficient to block out the light pollution from town that floods the room and that the previously mentioned alarm clock projects on a ceiling so I can know the time without turning over.   I never use the alarm by the way, blessed with an internal clock that is always running, even away at conferences.  This year we at least eliminated one light source; a Vizio TV with an LED that turned on when the TV was off.

Unknown, but dark

It is no mystery to me that the number of sleep-deprived people is growing rapidly and why we are all ready, between our various tribes and political groups, to tear down civilization.   For goodness sake, I beg you, join me in the revolution to eliminate LED's on "off" electronics in the bedroom and to turn off street lights and other polluters outside.   Please engineers and politicians, give us back our dark nights, so we can sleep properly and deeply, albeit perhaps troubled still by dreams of saber-toothed cats and cave bears. I'm willing to chance it.

'Vatican City'

By now, Dear Reader, you've realized that I'm just on a rant and this blog entry has nothing to do with the somber dark daylilies pictured here.  In my defense, without the labels, I'm not sure anyone could tell the first four apart anyway.  I'm sorry for luring you into a rant with false pretenses of daylily pornography, but I had to get it off my chest.   Also, I need to correct a previous blog error in that this last daylily is 'Vatican City', not 'Popcorn Pete' as I said recently.   It's still pretty, even though it isn't perfectly dark, isn't it?   And now I'm really done because I just used 5 variations of "it" in the last sentence and I've obviously spent my anger and I'm fresh out of writing talent for the day.  Good Night!

Edged Wonders

'Storm Shadows'

It is quite definitely Daylily Season, and ProfessorRoush is both enjoying the show and lamenting his poor records.   As usual, my maps are only approximate, even though I thought them precise, or names were lost on planting or moving, so in this blog entry, I can be reasonably sure of about half of these daylilies.   Regardless, as I've noted before, the daylilies that I may have liked one year are not so appealing the next and I often have a set of similar favorites in a given year.   One year apricots, the next reds, the next light yellows, and so on.  This year, it's the edged daylilies that are drawing me in.

'Cosmic Struggle'

I'm reasonably sure of 'Storm Shadows' and 'Cosmic Struggle' and 'Bubblegum Delicious' here, but I'd be hard-pressed to tell one from another without the map.  'Storm Shadows' (Mitchell-K, 2004) has an incredibly thick ruffled cream-yellow edge and it holds up well in the heat. 'Cosmic Struggle' (Emmerich, 2009) opens early, but seems to be spotted easily by rain and it tears in high winds.  

'Bubblegum Delicious'

'Bubblegum Delicious' (Mitchell-K, 2009) was a solo purchase I made at a local nursery, so it was easier to keep track of (and more likely correctly labeled), than the inexpensive fans from the local annual Daylily Society sale.

'Popcorn Pete'?  Nope it's 'Vatican City'

I'm much less sure of 'Popcorn Pete' (later correction, it's 'Vatican City') and 'Bestseller' and 'Indian Giver', however.   My notes on 'Bestseller' are actually just an entry that I once held it in my hand and an "I don't remember where I planted it" statement.  Each is in the general vicinity of where I think I planted it, and each vaguely resembles the internet pictures of the flower, but I'm certainly not an expert at daylily identification.  Sometimes neither are the experts, because 'Bestseller' is of unknown providence to everyone.  I'd be more sure of 'Indian Giver' if one of its many descriptions would talk about the petals being "recurved."  I do wonder what's eating the petals of 'Popcorn Pete', however.   I haven't seen the Japanese Beetles bother my daylilies yet.

'Best Seller'?

'Indian Giver'?

'Mulberry Frosted Edges'

There are two unedged daylilies I'm going to show you just because they're especially beautiful right now.  'Mulberry Frosted Edges' (Hansen, 2000) is a nice, large, showy daylily with lots of character and, bonus, I'm reasonably certain of it's identity.   Her white edge is often understated in my garden, but I love the lilac halo around the golden throat.  

'Laura Harwood'

'Laura Harwood' is a treat that can't be mistaken for nearly anything else, so I'm quite sure of Laura.  She's a show piece, 5-9 blooms of 7" diameter coming each day on a nice compact healthy plant.  Hybridized by Harwood in 1997, 'Laura Harwood' is a keeper, one of those daylilies that I've already determined will eventually move with me to retirement.   I've got a list of plants for that, a special list kept in my head for a small garden to grow old with.   Provided that the Good Lord gives me that gift of growing old with a smaller garden, of course.  

Waiting for the Grass to Dry

Hemerocallis 'Blue Racer'

This morning, as often happens during the seasons of warm days and cool nights, I'm waiting for the dew to dry from the grass so that I can poorly attempt mowing.  Poorly attempt, I say, because the lawn has barely grown, only a few aggressive weeds sticking their heads above the carpet, and the border edges of the lawn forming seed heads, encouraged by the greater runoff of waste water from the driveway.  I intend only to swing the mower around the edges, leaving the weeds alone until the cooler and wetter days of fall reawakens more general growth. 

Hemerocallis 'Cosmic Struggle'

This day, a beautiful day is promised, coming from a low of 61ºF last night to a temperate high of 85º forecast.  I certainly find no fault with that, beckoned outside by sunlight and calm winds, chased from the indoor shadows by duty and commitment.  Lawn work for ProfessorRoush is a self-imposed obligation to be civil, to join in the continental-wide community of mown yards and tasteful homes.  My lawn is reluctantly mown, its owner a slave to convention and sometimes resentful of it.  The haphazard and naturally-grown flower beds of my garden are for me, a better representation of the inner self, the solitary and less-restrained id.

Hemerocallis 'Rocket Blast'

This week, the colors of the hills and grasses are changing fast; drier, yellower, heading towards their autumn tones and hinting of cooler days to come.   Vegetative growth slows while the frantic formation of fruits feverishly continues and accelerates.  The imperative to complete procreation, to ensure the passage of genes is upon every living thing, the products of sunlight and rain passed to the next generation as darkness falls.

This season, I enjoyed the days of daylilies, the hot colors of summer exploding into view, but as I've often found before, the season's favorites were defined by a certain hue, a new appreciation for some daylily palettes that I've overlooked before.   It seemed this year to be the "wines", the purple-reds, who replaced my previous fascinations with the oranges of last year, or the yellows of the year before, or the reds of three years past.   With some exceptions made, of course, for the occasional fiery orange or pastel perfect bloom whose beauty can't be so easily overlooked in any year.

This year, my garden and I have been easy friends, neither too demanding of the other, the garden accepting the little care I chose to provide and I happy with its parade of beauty, the sequence and progression of growth and species.  A balance and agreement made, I hope, for the future, of societal expectations ignored, and personal wishes granted.   My garden is not Eden, and far from perfect, but it returns the time I give it and I appreciate the gifts it gives me. 

This life, I'm content with, happy each morning and grateful each night for the day and daylilies that have graced me.  It's enough to welcome the rains as they come, to feel the warm sunlight on my skin, to accept love from outside, and to provide care in return. It's enough to see life flourish, from me, around me and within me, as the years go past.   It's enough to be part of it all, a cog in the wheel or a puppeteer of the play, it matters not, it's enough just to be here, present in the day.    

Changelings and Oddities

When one gardens long enough, and within a large enough garden, mislabeled plants and unexpected seedlings and woebegone cultivars will eventually apparate at will and often in surprising numbers and places.  And I'm not referring to the occasional 'Doctor Huey' rootstock that takes the place of your favorite rose after a long cold winter, nor to the frequent peony seedlings that I encounter in the garden and have spoken of before.  I'm talking specifically about those Flying Dutchman- and Mary Celeste-type mysteries that befuddle the mind and are spoken of later in soft-whispered legends after nightfall.

This Viburnum lantana pictured here and, at fruit, above, was once a green and gold-leafed variegated form that pleased me so much for a few years and has now been replaced by this more bland-leafed but still beautiful shrub.   The original plant just seemed to wither and die two years ago as this changeling sprung up a couple of feet closer to the edge of the bed.  I don't know if this imposter is a seedling or some rootstock from the plant I purchased, but the taller it grew, the more the original plant faded.

I'm never surprised when a variegated plant gets overwhelmed by a reversion to a fully-chlorophyll-ed mutation, having seen it in sedums and euonymus, and lots of other perennials, but I was initially disappointed at the loss of the variegation in the V. lantana.  Now, however, I'm reconsidering that disappointment while the contrast of foliage and bright red fruit is providing a fine ornament to the garden, whether the weather is wet and cloudy, as above, or bright and sunny, as it was this morning.  A gardener should never look a gift wayfaring shrub in the seed head, to mangle a phrase.

And then there are the surprise volunteer seedlings of other plants than peonies in the garden.   I recently noticed that this brassy yellow daylily has sprung up in a bed composed entirely of irises (with only a few Asian lily bulbs scattered among them), and I have no idea how it got there.   Now, granted, some of these iris were moved from a bed that contained both daylilies and irises, but there are several reasons I don't think it was accidentally just transplanted.   

'Hesperus'

First, this volunteer seems to be growing in the middle of the 5 or 6 year old iris clump and it was never there before.  Second, there are no other yellow-ish daylilies in my garden, anywhere, that are identical enough to be the parent clump.   The most similar daylily I have at present is 'Hesperus', the 1950 Sprout Medal winner, but the latter has wider petals, is a little less brassy, and is more fragrant than my garden-crashing volunteer.  No, I think this is a new daylily, a random seed scattered by a bird or rodent that happened to like the soil here. 

My volunteer daylily

So, feel free to compare and contrast, 'Hesperus' above at right and the brassy interloper here at left, but I'm certainly not going to complain at a free daylily.  I'll move it, this fall, to a place on its own, perhaps into a new bed with other volunteer seedlings of my garden.   I consider it, as I stated before, an afterlife effort to drive the next owner crazy as they try to identify the plant or its provenance from my messy garden notes, a vain attempt to continue to influence the garden from places beyond.  If gardeners can't find satisfaction in this life, it's one way to have a good laugh in the next. 

And....I'm Caught Up.

Just like that, a perfect weekend of weather, and ProfessorRoush has caught up with spring.   There's always something magical about Easter weekend that brings the spring garden together.   Early or late, the plants seem to follow Easter's timing and so, evidently, does ProfessorRoush.  

Other than a few hours low of 25ºF one morning this week, spring has been a lamb this year, gradually warming up to today's 82ºF high and full sunshine, with few frosts or, even worse, late snows to set the plants back.  My Star Magnolia (Magnolia stellata) bloomed perfectly this year, not set back once by the weather and I'm already missing its warm scent.   All of the bulbs are up and out, with daffodils at their peak and the beautiful blue Scilla siberica and blue and white Puschkinia scilloides pictured above and the grape hyacinths to the left have delighted me for a couple of weeks and are just beginning to fade.  Both the Scilla and Puschkinia self-seed and spread here, and I now have Scilla in most of the beds around the house after planting them in only two little spots.  Thankfully, Scilla is easily controlled here, an unusually well-behaved and hardy plant in my garden.   Most plants that thrive in Kansas are rampant thugs, seemingly surviving on an overwhelm-and-kill-the-neighbors' philosophy.

To catch up this weekend, I purchased, transported, and spread over 70 bags of mulch bark in front and back, cut down all the ornamental grasses, fertilized everything  already green including over 100 daylilies, put up new Purple Martin houses, mowed around some early fast-growing edges, cut down the decrepit last-years-thrip-stricken Emerald Gaiety euonymus and sprayed them so they could rejuvenate, removed a 3-year-old dying Japanese maple from the front, spread another dozen hay and straw bales as mulch, sprayed the columbines to prevent Phytomyza aquilegivora (leafminers), planted 50 new strawberry plants and set up the system to water them, and probably did a few smaller chores I can't even remember. 

The photos above and left are of my now cleaned and mulched back bed from two sides, spoiled only by the serpentine hose I used to wet down the mulch (high winds are forecast here for Tuesday.  The prairie is still brown, but you can see the life beginning in my garden beds.  Notice the daffodils blooming here and there, the clumps of daylilies frantically growing, and the peonies coming up?  I can hardly wait for this coming week.   Sometime in the next two days, I'll entertain you with pictures of my 'Ann' and 'Jane' Magnolias, both just coming fully into bloom, and maybe, just maybe, 'Yellow Bird' will show it's pretty face this week.   The several days of recently warm weather has the entire garden growing on steroids right now, with redbuds, lilacs, and tulips all starting to break bud out there as I write this.  My soul is on vibrate mode, excited for a so-far normal spring.