Dayflower Difficulties

 While the rest of the world is occupied with either embracing or avoiding the inevitable summer heat of July and August in the Northern Hemisphere, ProfessorRoush is additionally fully engaged in my annual war with the Common Dayflower, Commelina communis.  Not as strikingly blue as its cousin, the Erect Daylily (Commelina erectus), C. communis is described in KSWildflower.org in unglowing and uninspiring terminology as "A common weed. The flowers bloom for one day, wilting into a moist, blue mass after a few hours."   I would add that if a "weed" is benignly considered to be any plant that is growing in an unwanted place, then the Dayflower is an overachiever; pernicious to its neighbors, invasive, impervious to glycosophate, and seemingly impossible to eradicate.

As an aside, the Wikipedia entry regarding Dayflowers is a model of "more than you ever want to know," and was obviously edited by some wild-eyed and socially questionable Dayflower fanatics.

Dayflower is supposed to be an annual (I'm not as convinced about that as Internet sources seem to be), so my primary angle of attack is to rip it out before it goes to seed.  Unfortunately, it has an uncanny ability to hide among irises and daylilies as it creeps along on the ground, popping up only as it gains the unsanctioned support of an neighbor plant, so I have to watch closely for the light blue flowers and rip them out at first appearance.  Equally unfortunately, the plant blooms during the hottest days of the year, so I battle both the plant and heat stroke simultaneously during my periodic forays into my garden beds.

Often, I find the Dayflower imitating and then trying to replace a desired plant (like an alien pod of 1950's science fiction) while mowing the lawn, as I did the weedy clump pictured above.   Beneath all those Dayflower stems and leaves is a desired 'Vintage Wine' daylily, which was blooming without care only the week before.  So, in this instance as in many others, I stopped mowing and attacked, wiping sweat away from my eyes periodically so I could discern daylily foliage from dayflower, and just generally resembling a bulldog attacking a bowl of soup.  Anyway, the final result looks much better (photo at right), a relieved daylily with a chance at survival.

 I'll finish by taking this moment to show you my latest lawn tractor modification.  I took this old 5-gallon bucket and have attached it to the tractor "hitch" point in order to always have immediate access to pruning tools and spray bottles of "Grass-B-Gon", yellow nutsedge herbicide, and brush-killer.   In other words, all the things I can't live without as a gardener in Kansas.   As I mow, I often spot a random clump of wild dogwood in a rose bush, or some yellow nutsedge in a bed, and it is much more effective to hit the brake and take care of it in the moment, rather than try to remember later what it was that offended me, where it was, and then make another trek to get the tool or spray I need to fix it.  I love my new bucket-basket!

Published Serendipity

Serendipity is defined by the Oxford dictionary as "the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way."   As we travel down that serendipitous rabbit hole, we learn further that the term was coined in 1754 by Horace Wadpole when, writing his friend Horace Mann, he related a surprising discovery in a painting he received from his friend that he related to a Persian folk tale, the "Three Princes of Serendip".  And while I could have continued my meager existence without knowing the etymology of serendipity, I was intrigued by a list of serendipitous inventions in Wikipedia which include Corn Flakes, safety glass, Popsicles, Teflon, superglue, LSD, the microwave oven, and penicillin.  I knew of the latter due to my veterinary training, but I would rather not know that Corn Flakes were created after John Kellogg inadvertently left out some wheat dough overnight and didn't want to throw it out.  I used to like Corn Flakes.

'Austrian Copper' watercolor by Nanae Ito

It was certainly serendipitous, however, that I chose to make a quick stop by a Half-Price Books on a recent weekend trip because I happened across a couple of texts that I've never seen before and was unlikely to look for.   The first was a worn hardback copy of Roses of Yesterday, by Dorothy Stemler, the latter a well-known name to any Old Garden Rose afficionado.    Roses of Yesterday is a scant 54 pages, but it contains passages about 18 Old Garden roses written by Mrs. Stemler and illustrated with water color prints of Nanae Ito.  The 18 roses chosen include my beloved 'Madame Hardy', 'Celsiana', 'Koenigin von Daenemarck', 'Austrian Copper', and 'Charles de Mills'.

'Madame Hardy' watercolor by Nanae Ito

About 'Madame Hardy', named for his wife by the breeder, Monsieur Hardy, Mrs. Stemler wrote "This rose is considered by many people the most exquisite white rose in exisence.  It has the elegance of emeralds and old lace....If he had never produced another rose in his lifetime, his name would still be famous." 

My second acquisition was a paperback copy of a similarly short (103 pages) self-published 2016 monograph, The Complete Guide to Gardeners, by Joseph Tychonievich.  Subtitled "The Plant Obsessed and How to Deal with Them, Tychonievich brings a highly tongue-in-cheek attitude into a semi-organized list of the trials imposed on a nongardener  who is living with a gardener.   There is dry, sarcastic humor throughout, as the author approaches the topics of the Notable Behaviors, Seasons, Care and Feeding, and Subspecies of Gardeners, as well as some advice on Troubleshooting Your Gardener.  I found Tychonievich's description of "gardener's myopia", a term referring to gardeners who can only see the weeds on their home turf rather than the beauty of his/her/their garden, to be very accurate.  I was also driven to thought by his advice regarding "gardener's paralysis," the tendency of a gardener to become complacent over the years and the garden to stagnate as a result.   I'm certainly self-afflicted by "gardener's myopia", but am I also guilty of "gardener's paralysis?  Hhhmmmph!

Weather Thou Goest

On his way home from work Friday night, ProfessorRoush turned onto the road leading to his house and, facing west, the sky ahead was this:

My first thought was "that's a rain cloud forming."  My second? "But there's no rain predicted until at least Sunday."  I took the picture from my front windshield to capture the moment.

Such, my friends, is the fickle nature of moisture in a Kansas summer.  Six weeks ago, we hadn't had any rain for several weeks after a fairly dry spring and the prairie grasses were showing some signs of drought.  Then it rained 6 inches in thirty-six hours and filled the ponds and soaked the ground and on a day no rain had been predicted.   Following that we had no rain for a month and the grasses were going into dormancy.  Earlier this week, we had 1.5 inches, predicted as a 30% chance, but the previously predicted late week and weekend chances all faded away as the weekdays passed.  Just this morning, the local weather channel and my phone app predicted only small chances on Sunday. And nothing today (Friday) or tomorrow.

But the cloud pictured above came in and provided a 30-minute heavy downpour, dumping an inch of badly-needed rain in that period.  To further illustrate our fickle weather, as I wrote these words, the radar looked like this as another storm moved in and yet, by the time I finished, the sky had cleared and this storm had evaporated, providing no moisture to ground level.  How could it miss?  How could it not rain?  The leading edge of that rain is only 5 miles from my location!

Eastern Giant Swallowtail butterfly

But enough nonproductive ranting and on to more pleasant topics.  I was pleased, recently, to have this perfectly formed Eastern Giant Swallowtail butterfly (Papilio cresphontes) cross my path while I was weeding, allowing me a brief "hello" and photo opportunity with this member of the largest butterfly species in North America.  I'm convinced God made no creature more fragile yet more exquisitely colored in a detailed pattern of intricate color than this butterfly.  Dante Alighieri was most certainly correct when he said "Nature is the art of God."

Arrowhead Orbweaver spider

I was a little less pleased, but still fascinated, that very same afternoon when I noticed this Triangle Orb Weaver (Verrucosa arenata) hanging out around the garage door as I passed by to enter the house.  Once I determined it was harmless, I returned its favor of benevolence and merely paused there for a photo of its adornment.  It is easy to see why one of the other common names for this spider is the Arrowhead Orbweaver!  One wonders the purpose of such a visible signpost, when surely matte black would suffice for a spider's garb, but, perhaps, its purpose is just that; to leave me wondering about the purposes of the Divine.

Baker's Daylilies

'Old Barnyard Rooster'

I think, today on Garden Musings, we'll just let the photos of  these 13 beautiful daylilies speak for themselves, borrowing, without shame, the meme of a fellow blogger who does a "Wordless Wednesday."  I captured these images walking along the border bed in back of the house all in about 20 minutes on a single morning (7/12/2025) as the sun rose. Which is your favorite?

'Prairie Blue Eyes'

'Timbercreek Ace'

'Awfully Flashy'

'Beautiful Edging'

'Storm Shadows'

'Big Rex'

'Blackberry Sherbet'

'Cosmic Struggle'

'Cream Desire'

'Joan Derifield'

'Laura Harwood'

'McBeth'

 

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.

Photographic Evidence

ProfessorRoush is absolutely certain, 100% positively sure, that other avid amateur photographers/ gardeners/ astronomers/ BIRDERS have looked at the countless advertisements for those inexpensive telephoto lenses that can be attached to your phones to take perfect pictures of distant objects and wondered "do they really work?"  I'm a little eccentric, yes, but I am fully aware that I'm not uniquely unhinged and that I'm in good company in all my hobby interests.  Besides, you know as well as I do that if you pause a second at a photo of a bird on, say, Facebook, the social site will then follow up with an ad for a telephoto lens to tempt you, and if you pause again, then God Help You;  you'll be bombarded with similar ads for weeks.

My recent trip to the Quivera National Wildlife Refuge awakened a desire to have a real telephoto lens on a digital camera, to be able in a few months to reach out and photograph Sandhill cranes from across the salt marshes, but I'm just too cheap to spend multiple thousands of dollars right away on a lens for my Nikon.  So, I got to thinking about these little iPhone lenses and soon purchased one:  this one.   The $72 package contained the lens, iPhone mount, lens cap, and a little light tripod.

In due time, it came in and I began exploring what it can do.  The actual 30X lens is heavy and feels well-made, and the mount lets you switch from vertical to horizontal format without detaching the camera.  Surprisingly, if you know a little photography and have a good tripod, the pictures from this thing are not half-bad.  There is a bit of a learning curve, and it is imperative that your iPhone camera is set at 2X or you get a "vignette" photo, but the images are passable for the cost. 

This house finch photo was taken during my learning phase last weekend through the closed kitchen window and I took all the other  photos on the page with the camera and phone on a tripod out the window within a 5 minute timespan yesterday evening.  I was excited when the red-bellied woodpecker made an appearance.  The photo below, taken without the lens through the window and with the iPhone camera set at "1X" gives you an idea of the power of the lens.   I've circled the distant garden bench in red and the near feeder and red rose ('Hope for Humanity") in white.  The yellow thistle feeder is the small one to the right of the red rose.

So, the APEXEL lens is a decent tool and a cheap tool at that, and I got what I hoped for and expected;  a chance to capture reasonable photos of some distant wildlife up close and personal.   I'm satisfied, yes, but I also now know, with certainty, absolutely 100% certainty, that I'll use this lens this fall, be mildly satisfied and yet mildly dissatisfied, and likely, by spring, I'll be the owner of a massive and expensive telephoto lens for my Nikon D3300 digital camera.  

Maybe, however, I'll try to grab a few photos of the next full moon first.  This garden bench is about the same apparent width at that distance.

Lily Daze

These are the days when ProfessorRoush stumbles out each morning and is dazzled by the sight of his tall, statuesque Oriental and Orientpet lilies, lured to them around the corner of the garage by their strong fragrance carried on the morning breeze.  My daily first chore of letting Bella out and making sure she attends to her business away from the house is much more pleasant while the lilies are in bloom.

The Orientpets and Orientals and Trumpet lilies bloom with the daylilies here, temporarily stealing the show from their more diminutive cousins, the former groups taller, larger, more fragrant, and simply more voluptuous than the latter.  One can look into these bountiful blossoms and lose oneself in their perfection as they open.  Lost too, you can become, if you breathe in that heavy perfume too deeply; it is overwhelming up close and cloying and some say almost sickening.  I myself enjoy the fragrance of Oriental lilies and Orientpets outside where it is diluted by flowing air, but one blossom inside a room can be too much for me.

I think of all these lilies pictured here as Orientpet lilies, but, in fact they're not.  'Yellow Dream', prevalent in the picture below, is just a tall and tough Oriental lily, while 'Purple Prince', pictured above, is a bonafide Orientpet cross.  The pure white lily here is perhaps an Oriental whose name I've lost, but I also have some "Lily Regale Album', a mostly white Chinese Trumpet lily with a very light yellow throat.  

'Yellow Dream'

As I view these lilies, I feel only sorrow for the unimaginative breeders who chose the name "Orientpet" for these crosses between Oriental and Chinese Trumpet lilies.   Viewing them, one wants a better name, more memorable, more intense.  Offhand, however, I can't do any better.  "Marvelous Lilies",  "Wondrous Lilies," Astounding Lilies" and just plain "Gosh Wow Lilies" are the best I could think of.

They're here and they're gone, fabulous flowers fading, browning and dropping and then the dark green foliage become merely a backdrop for the daylilies that outlast them.  Thankfully, they're nearly trouble free here in Kansas, untouched by disease, left alone by rabbits and beetles, and viewed as a moderate delicacy only by brave deer.   In my front yard, near the house, they're safe, but in the far beds of my yard the buds are eaten before they bloom.

What I need more of, perhaps, are 'Kaveri', which seems to be one of the least troublesome of all the bulbs I grow.  I'm still not crazy about the brash colors of this Asiatic and Oriental lily cross, but it has proliferated on its own and maintains a presence in my backyard even in the shade of a volunteer Redbud.  I'll give the glaring red-orange-yellow a pass, lighting up the shade as it does, but it still lacks the fragrance and elegance of Orientals and some "Gosh Wow" Orientpets.

Maybe, just maybe, I also should be less picky and more thankful for what survives the Kansas climate. 

  

Addendum:   And just this morning, fully opening after a small rain shower, the luscious watermelon pink of Orientpet 'Robina'.  The photo doesn't do this plate-sized bloom enough justice!

Popillia Repopulation

'Marie Bugnet' with Japanese Beetle

Once again the annual plague has returned, defiling, defecating and fornicating in ProfessorRoush's garden; the Popillia japonica, better known as Japanese Beetles, are back along with the summer heat.  This time, however, I am ready for the hell-borne horde.

I saw my first, a lone male, just 6 days ago, a single beetle on 'Blanc Double de Coubert', and easily hand-picked from the bush.   I carefully placed that advance scout lovingly onto a nearby stone and then stomped it to oblivion.  I've been scouting, watching and waiting, and here it was at last, the waiting over, the battle enjoined.  This year I'm also cheating early, because the bushes that await them are, I hope, poisoned platforms for them, luring them into the embrace of waiting, long-acting pyrethrins that promised 3 months of protection on its label.  I sprayed them 2 weeks ago in hopes of eliminating the first hatchlings.

'Lambert Closse' with Japanese Beetle

Yesterday, despite my hope for a low enemy turnout, I noticed the full army had arrived and, in twos and threes and fours, were staging orgies in the best rose blooms available all over the garden.  I had vowed to trust completely in the residual action of a pesticide that promised death of and is specifically labeled for Japanese Beetles, but when I found them still alive and copulating, on pure, virginal 'Marie Bugnet' and perfectly pink 'Lambert Closse', I abandoned my resolve and I confess that I resprayed the most prolifically-blooming roses, bolstering their protection and acutely killing the indecent squatters.  

'Lambert Closse' 06/26/2025, pre-beetle

I've already become quite fond of 'Lambert Closse', you see.  In her first nearly mature summer, she has, so far, bloomed continually, keeping those clear pink flowers on display (yes, I'm aware the namesake of this rose was a famous male Canadian explorer, but the bloom is female to its core and it even forms hips after it blooms).   She's a lanky rose, a tall, awkward lass, with several massive canes sprawling in all directions, but she is beautiful nonetheless and I can overlook her poor posture as long as she blooms and stays healthy.  And I refuse to allow a bunch of bugs to make her their simultaneous coital bed, toilet and food pantry.

Pray with me, please, that Japanese Beetles don't evolve and begin to include daylilies in their diets.  No matter their sins, no gardener deserves such horror.  

Hunter Tribute

ProfessorRoush is trying his best this year to bring Garden Musings back to its focus on my first love (beyond, of course, the beautiful Mrs. ProfessorRoush!); roses.   In that spirit, he has compiled a number of comments, thoughts and photos from the just-finished first flush of blooms, and would like to start by updating my assessment of a previously-discussed rose; the Hybrid Rugosa 'Hunter'.

My specimen of 'Hunter', planted in 1999 in my front landscape bed, seemed to peak during the 2012 season.   As I recall, its decline started after damage by an ice storm in 2015, and, surrounded by a bright red Monarda and burgundy Knautia macedonia, it struggled to compete, lingered and seemed weaker each season, and finally perished in 2017 or 2018.  Although I'm not sure if competition, poor sunlight, or old age contributed the most to 'Hunter's loss (or all three, equally) I can state with some confidence that the rose never showed any signs of Rose Rosette Disease and it remained only minimally affected by blackspot.  

I'll spare you the over-enthusiastic attempt at a poetic tribute this time, but  I missed 'Hunter' enough that I replanted a small band in 2022, this time in a more southern exposure, protected from the north winter winds by the house and near my bedroom window where I would see it more often, although the new site is also subject to more severe crosswinds and the ground is more dry in that area.  

Once again, the second coming of 'Hunter' in its now third season has grown into a spectacle, as you can see in these first 4 photos.   These were taken during first bloom cycle of 'Hunter'-2, around the 2nd week of May, when it opened every bud and petal all at once, a mass of "almost crimson", and became a show-stopper at the end of my back patio.   At 2.5 feet tall and 4 feet wide, it seems to be reaching full adulthood and is enjoying the current spot.  It shows absolutely no disease and had no winter dieback these past two winters.  

And now, 5 weeks later, it appears to be heading into another bloom cycle, slightly less flamboyant on its own, but this time accompanied not by 'John Cabot' and 'Konigin von Danemark' behind it, but by the daylilies 'Bubblegum Delicious' (left) and a yellow-green spider daylily whose name I've lost to history.  'Hunter' has also sprouted a couple of vigorous new canes that are reaching higher.  I can't wait to see what it does next!

(Non sequitur; has anyone else noticed that the iPhone 16 seems to have better representation of the reds than previous iPhones and digital cameras?  I'm much happier with the red tones of digital pictures these days!)