Magnificent Magnolias

Magnolia 'Jane'

I still linger in wonder, sometimes, that I have not only one but three magnolias growing in my Kansas garden.  I associate magnolias so strongly with the true Southern United States, that I simply have trouble accepting these large leathery petals will survive on the Kansas prairie.  If the cold doesn't kill them in the long run, surely the dryness and wind will.  I wasn't much of a gardener at the time, but I don't recall them growing in the zone 5B area of my Indiana childhood, so I never expected them here.  I was only experimenting when I first attempted Magnolia stellata 'Royal Star' here, pessimistically expecting only a wasted effort, but it is difficult to argue with success.

'Jane', on the prairie

They're all blooming now, all three of my magnolias, causing me to daydream of dinosaurs and foot-wide dragonflys, coal swamps and pterodactyls.  Something about those large leathery tepals and the deep musky scent evokes a memory from deep in my brainstem, instincts and dreams from times past.  This is one of the early flowers, the Dawn Flowers, as Earth's flora leaped into the sexual reproduction revolution and left the cycads and conifers behind.  Magnolias, evolving before the appearance of bees, were forced to toughen up their carpels into these rigid toothy mounds so the heavy, ungraceful beetles of the time could facilitate pollen transfer.  The glorious center organ of my young 'Jane', pictured above right and as a whole bush to the left, just seems to scream of warmth and dampness and sex, does it not?

Magnolia 'Yellow Bird'

Every year, I hold my breath until my Magnolias bloom, particularly until my baby 'Yellow Bird' (Magnolia acuminata 'Yellow Bird') shows signs of life, always hoping against hope that this year will not be the one I'm taught a painful lesson about the dangers of zonal denial.  Magnolias always burst into bloom naked, with no warning by accompanying leaves that life has begun again.  This year again, 'Yellow Bird' became, for a short time, the focus of my garden, tiny though it is, even prompting Mrs. ProfessorRoush to ask me what the beautiful yellow shrub was in the back garden.  I always know I've got a hit on my hands when it registers on the consciousness of my horticulturally unaware spouse.  I personally thought the yellow hue was a little less bright this year than last, perhaps "washed out" by the extremely wet weather a few days before these buds opened, or perhaps less developed when the rapid onset of heat pushed these flowers into an early Spring.  I was shocked to reread last year's post on the first bloom of 'Yellow Bird', dated April 18th, 2011, knowing all the while the tree has almost finished blooming this year at this end of March.   Again, evidence of an extremely early Spring.

'Yellow Bird' at 2 years

Magnolia stellata 'Royal Star'

And, as always, Magnolia stellata 'Royal Star' was the anchor of the Spring season, opening a couple of weeks back with the first scented bloom of Spring.  It always preempts the stage before the Witch Hazel here, before the tulips, almost before the daffodils.  This year it bloomed only briefly but gloriously, showing the ground with fresh clean white tepals during the strong winds and rains a week past.  Right now, unusually, some tardy buds are blooming again, making sure that this shrub makes its statement in my garden for another year.  A last brief shout before the rapidly developing summer heat makes this Magnolia dream again of dinosaurs past.

Mulch Madness

In the midst of "March Madness" but in contrast to the Final Four frenzy of sports fans, ProfessorRoush spent last weekend in a state of Mulch Madness, made more acute this year by the early and compact Spring here in Kansas.

I find the annual Spring Mulch Madness both cathartic and soul-satisfying.   I welcome this activity as a paradigm shift in my gardening year, signaling to me the change from the early days of preparing, improving, and modifying the garden for another year with the later, less participatory period of observing and enjoying the garden's growth and bloom through the Summer.   My garden, a chaotic shamble of winter remnants just a few days earlier, is transformed by The Mulching into a neatened and livable space, an idyllic world without weedy interlopers or uncultivated, raggedy plants. The pampered plants seem happier and somehow more wholesome, like children dressed in their new "back-to-school" clothes.  The garden now looks, and feels, CLEAN, a signal to my gardening soul that I'm free to move on towards Summer maintenance.  I'm past the planting and the pruning, beyond the weeding and the fertilizing.  My nest is empty and the babies are out among the world, growing in the sunshine.

The Mulching is one of the bigger annual efforts in my garden from a physical standpoint.  I only use "store-bought" mulch in the beds adjacent to the house and around individual trees, but those are still some pretty substantial beds.  The majority of my garden beds are mulched throughout the year with mown prairie grass clippings from my "lawn", an activity that helps me to feel both environmentally friendly and "organic", as well as moderately frugal.  Yet, I still use approximately 90 bags of hardwood mulch every year in the house beds because I like something more formal and presentable here for home and garden visitors. This year in a single day, I loaded, unloaded, and emptied out 86 bags of mulch, leaving me sore and sunburned, but fulfilled.  I'm admittedly still a few short here and there, but most of the work is done.

There are so many choices in mulchy regards;  generic hardwood, cedar, or cypress?  Colored red, colored black, colored brown, or natural?  Bagged or delivered in bulk?  I'm sure most or all gardeners go through similar choices every year.  Generic hardwood is the thing for me, both because of the lesser cost, renewability, and the rapid breakdown of the material.  I formerly spread cypress mulch exclusively, feeling it more "up-scale," but I always had misgivings relating to the loss of cypress swamps and habitat that cause extinction of the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker.  What really made me change, however, was realizing that the cypress mulch broke down extremely slowly and that I had accumulated about 6 inches of caked, inert cypress mulch on top of the beds.  I choose brown hardwood mulch simply because I like the brown against the green plants and brick house.  I employ pre-bagged mulch, although it's slightly more expensive and of less quality than bulk mulch purchased from a local vendor, due to an innate streak of laziness that I disguise as efficiency.  As long as I'm willing to drive on my lawn, I can throw the bags off my trailer within inches of where they'll be used, saving me from untold injuries by an errant, overloaded wheelbarrow, from dumping mulch more by accident than by design, and most importantly, saving me from the labor of wheeling the mulch up and down and around the Flint Hills surrounding the house.

The Mulching, for this year, is over.  My gardening soul is at rest for a time. The Garden is ready, gathering strength and momentum as it rushes towards Summer, clothed in new garments for a new year. 

Camping Caterpillars

Yes, I am aware that the gardening year has come early in North America.  And it has discombobulated just about every plant species and human gardener beyond any historical measure.  Now, similarly scrambled, it seems the insects are joining the parade.  Early, Early, Early.

I noticed this weekend that I already had two of these delightful little fuzzy caterpillar nests in a young ornamental cherry tree.  I tend to lump all these creepy, crawling little blights under the term "webworms", but a little research tells me that in my area, in the Spring and in a cherry tree, these are likely Eastern Tent Caterpillars (Malacosoma americanum).  The real webworms, (Hyphantria cunea) occurs in the fall and are less discerning upon which trees they inflict.  Of course, my invasion could be gypsy moths or Forest Tent Caterpillars, but to discern the differences, I'd have to let these barely visible white caterpillars mature a little bit, and I'm not about to do that.  Odds being what they are, for the sake of simplicity, let us just call these Eastern Tent Caterpillars. 

As an interested amateur biologist, I was fascinated to read how their tents are oriented to face the southeast, taking advantage of the strongest rays of the early Spring sun to warm them up in the cooler air.  And as a veterinarian, I was previously unaware that they have been linked to "Mare Reproductive Loss Syndrome."  It seems that when pregnant mares are fed the caterpillars, they abort.  No one is sure of the exact pathogenesis, but the causal link is well established.  I'm astonished that the link was even made; I mean, who sits around watching their pregnant mares eat Eastern Tent Caterpillar nests?

Regarding control of these little beasties, I find myself doubtful about the common recommendation to simply tear a hole in the silk to let the birds get at the caterpillars.  What would stop the caterpillars from reforming their "tent", since they reportedly add to its size every day?  I'm therefore sad and embarrassed to admit that I resorted to dousing these babies with a Sevin drench.

In my defense before the court of the WEE (Wild-Eyed Environmentalists), this tree is an ornamental and doesn't produce edible cherries so both the birds and myself are safe.  But them caterpillars are toast!

Working Day

No philosophical rambling yesterday, my friends, no time here to play.  Yesterday was a work day at ProfessorRoush's garden; mulching, weeding, transplanting, dividing, and general all around "leave the gardener aching" day.  Well, okay, there was a little play, since nearly everything I just listed is really playtime for me.  But, all in all, a pleasant and satisfying day of life.

I need to let you in on a big secret, however.  I've got a tool for you to add to your garden armory.  No, not one of those tools that you buy once and then leave hanging in your tool cabinet or shed unused.  This is not toolshed clutter.  This is shear genius of tool creation.

I'd like to introduce you to the Radius Garden Pro Weeder, found online at www.radiusgarden.com.  I first saw this gardening lifesaver at the annual Manhattan Garden Show, and thought it interesting but a little pricey at $50.00.  Then, fate intervened to send me exactly $50.00 of "mad money" recently and I took it as a sign from the gardening gods that I was destined to own it.

The second big secret is that, while I'm sure it is a nice weeder, weeding is not remotely its best function.  Think of this, those of you with clay soil interspersed with rocks, as a small spade, able to reach down deep between the stones and pry them up.  And more importantly, able to CUT THROUGH THE TOUGHEST MISCANTHUS CLUMP TO DIVIDE IT INTO NICE PLANTABLE PLUGS!  Forget about the team of sweaty muscular young men to lift the grassy clumps and the chainsaws to divide them. This baby let me transplant my Miscanthus, albeit minus a couple of growing years, where it needs to be rather than where I originally planted it.  I'm going to now burn out or Roundup the rest of the clumps.  No need to break my back anymore in a fruitless attempt to move mountains!

It's built extremely tough, with, as you can see on the back, a nice strong spine to prevent bending.  My pictures show a working weeder, dirty and smeared, but it is made of stainless steel and has a rubber molding around a steel core clear to the "O-ring" handle.  I don't know that it needed more than a "D" handle, but the O-ring is workable and comfortable to use.  It comes in several colors for those who care about the color of a gardening tool.  But, most important, there is no bending or breaking this baby. 

The real secret is in the tip.  It's about 2.5 inches wide and its not sharp enough to slice you inadvertently, but it is sharp enough to go easily through the tough clay and small enough to work between stones.  Think about the force on the tip;  a normal spade, with a width of 6-8 inches, distributes my weight along all of that width.  This baby multiplies my force by 3 times at a minimum.  Genius!   It's a pry bar with a handle!  It's a spade for the Flint Hills!  It's a bulb planter with wings!

Consider this just a tip of the gardening hat to a fabulous tool from a gardener who has no connection with the manufacturer nor who gets directly or indirectly paid for this endorsement.  This one will not live solely in your tool collection, but will become a real workhorse in your garden.  And worth every penny just for the savings in Miscanthus plugs.